EVENTIDE

 A SERIES OF

 TALES AND POEMS. 

 BY

 EFFIE AFTON. 

 "I never gaze Upon the evening, but a tide of awe, And love, and wonder, from the Infinite, Swells up within me, as the running brine From the smooth-glistening, wide-heaving sea, Grows in the creeks and channels of a stream, Until it threats its, banks. It is not joy, -- 'Tis sadness more divine. "

 ALEXANDER SMITH. 

 BOSTON:

 FETRIDGE AND COMPANY. 

 1854. 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by

 J. M. HARPER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 

 Stereotyped by HOBART & ROBBINS, New England Type and Stereotype Foundery, BOSTON. 

 _To the_

 FIRESIDES OF THE WESTERN WORLD, _With the fond Hope_

THAT ITS PAGES MAY SERVE TO ENLIVEN OR ENTERTAIN SOME FEW OF THOSE EVENINGHOURS WHEN PLEASANT FACES GATHER ROUND WARM, GLOWING HEARTH-STONES, _This simple Volume_

 IS UNOBTRUSIVELY PRESENTED, BY THE

 UNKNOWN AND NAMELESS AUTHOR, WHO WOULD

 RATHER FIND WARM HEARTS AMONG HER READERS THAN WIN THE LAURELS OF A TRANSITORY FAME. 

 Transcriber's Note:

 There are two instances of illegible words in this text, both as a result of ink blots. They have been indicated as [illegible]. 

 PREFACE. 

When the sun has disappeared behind the western mountains, and the starssparkled o'er the blue concave, we have been accustomed to sit down tothe compilation of this unpretending volume, and therefore it is called"Eventide. " O, that its pages might be read at that calm, silenthour, --their follies mercifully overlooked, their faults as kindlyforgiven. 

Fain would we dedicate this "waif of weary moments" to some warm-hearted, watchful spirit, who might shelter it from the pitiless assaults of thewide, wide world. But will not our simple booklet prove too insignificanta mark for the critic's arrows?

In the language of another, we confidently say, melancholy is indifferentto criticism. 

Thus, "In our own weakness shielded, "

O, Reading Public, we steal upon you 'mid the falling shadows, and lay"Eventide" at your feet. 

 CONTENTS. 

 PAGE

WIMBLEDON; OR, THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS, 7

SCRAGGIEWOOD, A TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE, 245

ALICE ORVILLE; OR, LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST, 329

COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING, 401

ELLEN, 404

I'M TIRED OF LIFE, 405

LINES TO A FRIEND, ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE, 407

HO FOR CALIFORNIA! 409

N. P. ROGERS, 411

LINES, 413

HENRY CLAY, 415

THE SOUL'S DESTINY, 417

LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND, 419

NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS, 421

MY HEART, 423

OUR HELEN, 425

MY BONNET OF BLUE, 427

DARK-BROWED MARTHA, 429

 WIMBLEDON;

 OR

 THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS. 

 CHAPTER I. 

 "The stars are out, and by their glistening light, I fain would whisper in thine ear a tale; Wilt hear it kindly? and if long and dull Believe me far more deeply grieved than thou. "

Clear and loud on the hushed silence of the midnight hour rang the chimesof the village clock, from the tall steeple-tower of the quaint oldchurch of Wimbledon, while several ambitious chickens rose from theirneighboring perches, piped a shrill answering salute, and sank to theirnocturnal slumbers again. But nor clock nor chanticleer disturbedWimbledon. Still she slept on beneath the blossoming stars; and by theirsoft, inspiring light, with your permission, gentle reader, we'll enterthe sleeping village. 

Dim gleams of snowy cottages, peeping through a wealth of emboweringvines, steal on our star-lighted vision as we roam along the grassystreets, and we scent the breath of gardens odorous with the sweets ofdew-watered flowers. Above and around we hear the musical stir of thenight wind among boughs and branches of luxuriant foliage, while ever andanon it comes from afar with a deep-toned, solemn murmur, as though itswept o'er forests of cedar and mournfully-echoing pine. Still roamingon, the low rippling of flowing waters comes soothingly to our ears, andwe pause on the bank of a flower-bordered river that goes sweetly singingon its way to the distant ocean. A tiny sailboat lies in a shelteringcove, rocked gently to and fro by the swaying current. On a hill beyondthe stream we mark a large white-belfried building, relieved against adark background of wide-stretching timber-land. And turning our delightedfootsteps down an avenue of lofty cedar and linden trees, there rises atlength before our vision a splendid mansion, built after a most beautifulstyle of architecture, with deep, bay windows, long corridors andvine-covered terraces. Magnificent gardens, displaying the perfection oftaste, lay sloping to the southward. On the east the silvery river wasseen glancing through the shrubbery that adorned its banks. To the westlay a beautiful park and pleasure ground, while far away to the northwardstretched the deep, dense forest, tall, dark and sombre. 

And over all this lovely scene the stars shed their mild, ethereal light. O, Wimbledon! art thou not beautiful 'neath their soft, silver gleams?And doth not shadowy-vested romance roam thy grassy paths andflower-strewn ways to-night, and with her wild, mysterious eyes gloatingon thy entrancing scenery, doth she not resolve to dwell awhile, 'mid thyembowering vines, thy dewy-petalled flowers, mournfully-musicalcedar-groves, and web a fiction from the thousand tangled threads whichcomplicate and ramify thy social life?

We shall see what we shall see in Wimbledon; for gray dawn is alreadybreaking in the dappled east, and a man, closely buttoned to the chin ina gray overcoat, emerges from a large brick mansion on the outskirts ofthe village, and directs his steps toward an old, black, rickety-lookinghouse, which stands just on the bank of the river, surrounded by atangled growth of brush-wood. 

Here the gairish day at length disclosed what the modest night hadobscured with her diamond veil of stars. Squalid poverty glared throughthe broken window-panes, and want seemed clattering her doleful song onthe flying clapboards and crazy casements. A feeble, struggling lightfrom within showed the inmates were stirring as the man in the overcoatgave a loud, careless thump on the trembling door, which was opened by apale, gaunt-looking urchin, clad in garments bearing patches of divershues. 

"Is your mother at home, Bill?" inquired the man, gruffly. 

"Yes, sir, " answered the boy in a meek tone; "will you please to walk in, Mr. Pimble?"

"No; tell her I want her to come and wash for me to-day, " said the man, in a harsh, rough voice, as he turned away. 

The boy bowed and reëntered the miserable apartment, where a few soggychips smoked on a bed of embers that were gathered in the corner of ahuge fire-place. A woman, with a begrimed cotton handkerchief tied overher head, sat on the hearth endeavoring to blow them into a blaze, whilethe smoke, that poured down the foul and blackened chimney, caused thetears to roll from her eyes, and baffled her efforts. 

"Never mind the fire, mother, " said the lad, approaching; "I'll try andpick up some dry sticks in course of the day to have the room warm whenyou come home to-night. Mr. Pimble has just called, and wants you to goand wash for him to-day. "

"He won't pay me a cent if I go, " answered the woman moodily; "all mydrudgery for that family goes to pay the rent of this miserable oldshell. "

"I think he will give you something to-day, mother, if you tell him howneedy we are, " suggested the boy. 

"Never a cent, " said the woman, with a gloomy shake of her head;"however, I may as well go. I shall get a cup of tea and bit of dinner, and I'll look out to bring you a cake, Willie. "

"O, will you, mother?" exclaimed the boy, his wan features brighteningmomentarily at the prospect of a single cake to appease the gnawings ofhunger. 

The woman threw a coarse, threadbare blanket over her shoulders and wentforth, while the boy bent his way along the riverbank in search of drytwigs and branches with which to replenish their wasted stock of fuel. And he thought, as he picked up here and there the scanty sticks and laidthem in small bundles, of some lines of poetry he read on a bit ofnewspaper that blew across his path one day:

 "If joy and pain in this nether world, Must fairly balanced be, O, why not some of the _pain_ to them. And some of the _joy_ to me?"

And he could not settle the point in his youthful mind. He could nottell why David Pimble should go to school the year round at the great, white seminary on the hill, while he could only go about two months inthe cold, biting winter to a town-school a mile distant. He could nottell why said David should have warm woollen jackets, while his werethreadbare and patched with rags; nor why David should fare sumptuouslyon buttered toast and smoking muffins, while he starved on the cruststhat were cast from his well-spread table. 

All these were knotty points which poor little Willie Danforth was tooyoung and untaught to solve. When he should be older and wiser, would hebe able to solve them? He didn't know;--he hoped so; though he feared henever would be much wiser than now, if he was always to remain so poor, and be debarred from the privilege of attending school. 

There's one school whose doors are and have ever been open wide forWillie--the school of poverty and experience. Lessons swift and bitterare indelibly impressed on the minds of the pupils there. 

Thoughtful and abstracted, Willie wandered along, gathering his littlebundles of firewood, till he found himself at the foot of the hill onwhich stood the great, white seminary where David Pimble, his brother andsister, went to school month after month and year after year. He heardvoices, and, looking up, beheld the little group that were occupying histhoughts, on the hill-top, laughing and mocking at him as he toiled alongwith his bundles of sticks. His cheeks glowed with anger for a moment, and then grew ashy pale, as he plodded on toward his miserable home. 

Dilly Danforth, the poor washerwoman, had seen better days; but thedrunken dissipation of a husband, who was now in his grave, had reducedher to abject, despairing poverty. Her unfortunate marriage andpersistence in clinging to the man of her choice, and enduring all hisabuses, excited the displeasure of her family, and they cast her fromthem to suffer and struggle on as best she might. She knew not as she hada relative in the world. She surely had no friend, save Willie, herlittle boy, with whom she dwelt in the comfortless abode we have brieflyvisited. 

Alas for the suffering poor! How prone are the wealthy, by warm, glowinggrates, to forget their cheerless habitations, and turn inhumanly fromtheir pitiful tales of want and destitution!

 CHAPTER II. 

 "This work-day world, this work-day world, How it doth plod along!"

Tap, tap, tap, on the back kitchen door of Esq. Pimble's great brickmansion, and a clattering of plates and tea things within which quitedrowned the timid knock. A second and louder one brought a fat, red-facedwoman with rolled-up sleeves and a dish-towel in hand, to answer thesummons. 

"Sakes, Dilly Danforth!" exclaimed she, on beholding the well-known, faded blanket of the washerwoman; "what brings you here so airly in themornin'? If you are after cold victuals, I can tell you you can't haveany, for mistress--"

"I am not come seeking charity, " said Dilly, cutting short the woman'sbrawling speech; "Mr. Pimble wished me to come and wash for him to day. "

"_He_ did?" said the bold-visaged housekeeper, opening her large, buttermilk-colored eyes with astonishment; "well, for sure!"--and hereshe seemed debating some matter in her mind for several moments, her handstill holding the door in forbidding proximity to poor Mrs. Danforth'spale, grief-worn face. 

"Well, you can come in then, I s'pose, " she said, at length, flinging itopen spitefully, and returning to the wiping of her breakfast dishes, which she sent together with such a crash, that poor Dilly, as she stoodover the stove trying to warm her chilly fingers by a decaying fire, momentarily expected to see them scattered over the floor in a thousandfragments. 

"Sakes! are you cold this warm spring morning?" snarled the plump, well-fed housekeeper, as she thumped back and forth, carrying her pilesof plates to the cupboard. "Why don't you shut the outside door afteryou, then? For my part, I'm most roasted to death. "

"You have been in a warm room, while I have not seen a fire thismorning, " said Dilly, meekly, as she closed the door and returned to herplace by the stove. 

"Well, I wish I hadn't, " answered the ireful Mrs. Peggy Nonce;--"a hardfate is mine; sweltering over a great fire all my life, to cook for afamily that don't know nothing only to make the work as hard as they can. Now, here's Mr. Pimble goes and gets you here to wash; never tells me aword about it till you come right in upon me just as I have got mybreakfast things cleared away, settin'-room swept out, and fire all downin the kitchen. I s'pose you have had nothing to eat to-day, for youalways come half starved, though why you do so I don't know, save to makeme work and get all you can out of us. When Mr. Pimble rents you thatgreat house so cheap, too! I declare, I should think, with all that man'strials, he would get to be a hypocrite and believe in totalannihilation. "

Dilly made no reply to this speech. Probably the latter part was beyondher simple comprehension. 

Mr. Pimble himself, the man of trials, as his housekeeper affirmed, nowopened the sitting-room door and looked forth. He was habited in a long, faded, palm-figured bed-gown, all muffled up round his chin, andsheep-skin slippers without heels. He had a lank, pale, discouragedvisage, and thin, light hair, streaked with gray, in a very untidy statestraggling about his face. He pulled his wrapper up yet closer about hishead, when he discovered the washerwoman, and shambled across theclean-swept floor, his heelless slippers going clip-clap after him, as hestalked along. What a gaunt, unhealthy-looking personage was the richPeter Paul Pimble, Esq. , of Mudget Square!

"Well, you are come, then, are you?" said he, glancing toward the kitchenclock, which was on the stroke of eight; "pretty time to commence a day'swork. "

"And she has had no breakfast; and the water is not in the kettles, " putin dame Peggy. "I could have had that all hot for her, if you had justtold me she was comin' to wash. But some folks always like to be so slyand underhanded. "

"Stop your clack!" said the master, turning toward her with an angryglance, "and get a bite of something to eat while she is putting herwater on and building a fire. I shall be at home through the day tosuperintend matters and see that all is done to my wishes. "

Thus saying, he scuffled back to his warm fire in the parlor; for, thoughit was a bright morning in the early part of May, and odorous flowersopening their petals to the genial sunbeams, and groups of singing birdsmerry on all the foliage-covered trees, still Esq. Pimble wascold--always cold, summer and winter. No genial influence could warm hissluggish blood, or impart a glow to his dry, parchment-colored face. 

There he sat; his feet poised on the fender, and a newspaper in hisskinny clutch, from which he seemed to read. Now and then he yawned, stretched himself, approached the window, gazed forth for a moment withsome anxiety depicted on his expressionless face, and then sunk down inhis cushioned chair again. All the while the washing was going on brisklyin the kitchen. Peggy Nonce had outlived her morning's asperity, andconcluded to bake a batch of dried apple pies, as there must be a firekept in the stove for Billy, and it would save burning the wood anotherday for the express purpose of cooking operations. So it appeared damePeggy, with all her tempers, had one good point at least, and one butseldom found in servants, --a lookout for her employer's interests. Thebluffy housekeeper was given to gossip, too, as all of her class are; andwho could give her a better synopsis of the private affairs of half thefamilies in Wimbledon, than Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, whoperformed the drudgery and slop-work in many of the fine homes of theupper class? But, after all, Peggy had more to give than receive; for bysome means the poor washerwoman did not seem possessed of the "gift ofgab. " She was lamentably ignorant on many points where Peggy thought, with her advantages, _she_ would have been well-informed and able toanswer any question proposed. And so the news-loving housekeeper, thoughshe remembered her master's interests in the article of firewood, wasfain to forget them in a matter of far more importance, and broachedforth into a long tale of his trials and domestic discomforts. Warmingwith her discourse as she proceeded, her voice grew so shrill andvehement, that Mr. Pimble, had he not been deeply engaged in poring overthe trials his loquacious housekeeper was so eloquently setting forth toher silent and rather inattentive listener, he would have discoveredhimself the hero of a tale which might have lost Mrs. Peggy Nonee aplace she had occupied half a lifetime. But Mr. Pimble sat in bed-gownand slippers till dinner was announced at one P. M. , and the three youngPimbles tumbled into the hall in boisterous glee, just escaped from therestraint of school discipline. They all rushed to the table at once, and called for half a dozen kinds of food in a voice, which the glum, abstracted father heaped indiscriminately on their plates. There was nosound save the clatter of knives and forks for several minutes, whilethe interesting family discussed their amply-provided and well-preparedmeal. At length Master Garrison Pimble, a lad of a dozen years, declaredsister Sukey had got the biggest piece of venison pie. Susan, a littlegirl of seven summers, said she "didn't care if she had; she ought tohave. "

"No, you oughtn't either, " returned Master Garrison, "for you are nothalf as big as I. "

"I don't care for that, " lisped Susan; "mammy says women ought to havethe best and most of everything, and do just what they like to, and gojust where they want to. "

"Well, they shouldn't do any such thing, should they, father?" demandedthe argument-loving Garrison. 

"Eat your dinners quietly, my children, " returned the silent father, "andnot meddle with matters you do not understand. "

"But I do understand them, " continued the youth. "I know sister Sukeyought not to have the largest piece of pie, and she shan't. "

Thus saying, he made a dive at Miss Susan's plate, and bore off hergenerous slice of venison pastry on his fork. Susey screamed at the topof her voice, and, clutching her hands in her brother's hair, she pulledit so vigorously he was fain to drop his prize, which fell to the carpetand was devoured by a half-starved grimalkin, while he boxed his sister'sears soundly for her vixen attack upon his bushy black hair. 

"I'll learn you to pull my hair!" said he, with a very red face. 

"I'll learn you to steal my pie!" shrieked she, as, maddened by hersmarting ears, she flew at him and dug long, bloody scratches in hischeeks with her sharp little nails. The father now parted the combatants, and shut the warlike Susey in the closet, where she was loud inpronouncing maledictions against her brother, and heaping vituperationsupon her father; declaring, when mammy came home, she would tell her howshe was abused in her absence, and mammy would take sides with her, because she knew men were all cross and ugly, and tried to hurt and wrongpoor feeble woman. Garrison and David finished their meal in silence; andwhen the seminary bell rang to announce the hour for reöpening of school, Mr. Pimble liberated Susey, and all went shouting off together. 

Then he called in Dilly and the housekeeper, and, while they dined on thefragments, went out in the kitchen to inspect the progress there. Allseemed to be moving on well, and, as he was returning to his seat by thesitting-room fire, a covered buggy drove to the front piazza, and agentleman descended and assisted two ladies to alight. Directly theparlor was dashed open, and the trio made their entry. Foremost was themistress of the mansion, Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble. What a puny, trembling thing appeared the husband, as he stood there like a galvanizedmummy in presence of that tall, portly woman, with her broad shouldersand commanding aspect! Her first act was to smother the fire; her second, to throw open the windows; her third, to ensconce herself in her liegelord's easy-chair, and bid her guests lay aside their travelling garbs, and make themselves at home. Finding his comfortable seat appropriated, and no notice vouchsafed him, Mr. Pimble shuffled off into the kitchen. 

"Was that your husband, sister Justitia?" inquired the lady visitor, asshe threw off her shawl and bonnet, with an energetic toss. 

"Yes, " answered the majestic lady in her most majestic tone, "that wasPimble. You will not mind him at all; he is as near nothing as can be, --amere crank to keep the machine in motion, --you understand. He has hissphere, however. The lowest brute animals have theirs. Pimble's is tostay at home and superintend the minor matters of life, such as milkingthe kine, feeding the chickens, and slaughtering a lamb occasionally tosubserve the grosser wants of poor human nature. In brief, all thosetrivial and perplexing things in which a superior mind cannot be supposedto feel an interest, and by which it is not right it should be fettered, and prevented from soaring to its own lofty sphere of thought andaction. "

Mrs. Pimble paused for breath as she delivered herself of the abovevoluble speech, and the lady visitor replied:

"You speak heroicly, sister Justitia. I see you have obtained yourrightful position in your own household. O, would that all our crushedand down-trodden sisters were possessed of but a tithe of your energy andindependence of character! Then would our young Reform, which encounterson every side the swords and pickaxes of infuriate battalions of thetyrant man, ride in triumphal chariot over our whole broad country'sproud domain!"

"Ah, sister Simcoe, how doth your inspired language fill my soul withfire! I rejoice that you are come among us. How will your presenceencourage our ranks, and, in the triumph of your medical skill, vile maleusurpers of the healing art shall sink to rise no more! I long to readagain the proceedings of our late convention, the thrilling speeches, thesweeping resolutions!"

"Let us thus occupy ourselves, " said young Dr. Simcoe, turning toward aremote corner of the apartment where sat the small man who hadaccompanied the ladies, perched on a hard, uncushioned chair, his handsfolded in his lap, and his eyes bent studiously on the carpet. This wasthe personage on whom the accomplished young medical practitioner had, afew months previous, condescended to bestow the princely honor of herhand. 

"Sim, " said the eloquent wife, as she glanced carelessly upon him, "whereare the portmanteaus?"

"In the entry, " answered the small man, raising his eyes for a moment tohis fair consort's face. 

"Bring them in and open them, " said the lady, again sinking down in hersoft seat. 

The small man disappeared in a twinkling, and the portmanteaus were soonplaced on the table, and their contents spread forth. 

"I will now order some refreshment, " said Mrs. Pimble;--"and while it ispreparing, we can amuse ourselves with the documents. What would youprefer for your dinner, sister Simcoe?"

"Pea soup, " returned the lady doctor; "that is my uniform dish, --simpleand plain. "

"And Mr. Simcoe, what would he choose?"

"O, he has no choice!--anything that comes handiest will do for him. "

Mrs. Pimble glanced toward Mr. Simcoe. Mr. Simcoe simpered and bowed. SoMrs. Pimble swept into the kitchen to issue her commands. She started onbeholding Dilly Danforth bending over a wash-tub filled to the brim withsmoking linen, just out of a boiling suds. Darting one fiery glancetoward her forceless husband, sitting humped up over the stove, his headsupported on his hands, she exclaimed, "What does this mean?" Mr. Pimblelooked up vacantly; Peggy turned round from her occupation of washing thedinner dishes, and Dilly kept to her wash-tub. No one seemed tounderstand to whom the stately mistress addressed her briefinterrogatory. "Have you all lost your tongues?" at length exclaimed Mrs. Pimble, in a louder tone; and, seizing her husband's chair, she gave it arough jerk, and demanded, "Are you dumb, Peter Pimble? What is thatbeggar-woman, "--pointing toward Dilly, --"doing here?"

"Don't you see she is washing?" returned the husband, rather ironically. 

"Well, by whose leave?"

"Mine. "

"Yours?--and why have you brought a washerwoman into the house in myabsence, and without my permission?"

"Because all my linen was dirty. "

"What if it was?"

"I wanted it washed. "

"What for?"

"Because the spring courts are held in Olneyville next week. "

"What if they are?"

"I would like to attend. "

"You would, would you? No doubt, and confine me at home to superintendthe domestic affairs. No, Mr. Pimble, you don't enslave me in thatmanner. I'm a free woman, and acknowledge no man master. I'll see if I'mnot mistress in my own house. Here, Dilly Danforth, take your hands outof that wash-tub, and pack off home, instanter. There will be no morewashing done in my house to-day, or ever again, unless I order it done. And you, Peggy Nonce, make a pea soup and broil a nice steak, with allthe appropriate dishes, and have a dinner prepared in half an hour, toserve myself and guests. "

There was an instant commotion in the kitchen, and the mistress sweptback to her guests in the parlor. 

 CHAPTER III. 

 "She is a saucy wench, Somewhat o'er full Of pranks, I think--but then with growing years She will outgrow her mischief and become As staid and sober as our hearts could choose. "

 OLD PLAY. 

Mr. Salsify Mumbles was a grocer in a small way, and his good wife tookboarders, --young ladies and gentlemen from different parts of thecountry, who came to attend Cedar Hill Seminary, a school of high reputeand extended celebrity. Her number was limited to three this summer, because she conceived her health to be delicate, and because Mr. Salsifyhad communicated to her in private that he was certainly "rising in hisprofession;" and the quick-sighted lady foresaw the day speedilyapproaching when she would no longer be obliged to perplex herself withso ungrateful a class of beings as boarders, but should roll through thestreets of Wimbledon in her coach and four, the "observed of allobservers. "

Mrs. Mumbles had one fair daughter, Mary Madeline, upon whom she dotedwith true maternal fondness. This young lady was most perversely inclinedto smile upon one Mr. Dick Giblet, a clerk in her father's grocery. Mrs. Mumbles was inconsolable, and Mr. Giblet was banished from the premises, and taken into employ by the firm of Edson & Co. , the largest merchantsin Wimbledon. 

Rumor said these gentlemen were so well pleased with the young man, thatthey had offered him a yearly salary of several hundred dollars, andproposed, should he continue to perform his duties as well as hitherto, to take him into the firm, on his coming of age. Mrs. Salsify now beganto regard Dick with different eyes, as what prudent mother would not? Shesent Mary Madeline to the store of Edson & Co. , whenever she was in wantof a spool of cotton or yard of tape; but the young clerk had grown sovain with his elevation, that he looked very loftily down upon her, bowedin the most distant manner, and never exchanged more words with her thanwere necessary in the buying and selling of an article. So Mary Madelinetold her mother, and upbraided her as the cause of the young man's coldtreatment. Mrs. Salsify bade her daughter be of good cheer. "'Twas all afeint on Dick's part, to conceal his love till he was sure of hers, --allwould come round right in time. " But Mary Madeline would not believe it, and said she should die if she had to stay in the back store alone somuch, sorting spices and writing labels, for she was constantly thinkingof Dick, who used to be with her. She must have something to divert herattention; and, at length, Mrs. Salsify hit upon the project of sendingher to school at the seminary one term. It was fitting that the daughterof the rich Mr. Mumbles that was to be, should be possessed of suitablepolish and refinement to adorn the high circles in which her positionwould call her to move. So Miss Mumbles answered to her name among thetwo hundred scholars, male and female, that had assembled in the halls ofCedar Hill Seminary, for the summer term. Quite a sensation she producedin her gay muslin dress and fiery-colored silk apron; for Mrs. Salsifydeclared her resolve to dress her tip-top. She was not the woman to halfdo a thing, when she undertook; she always came up to the mark, or went alittle beyond. Better overshoot than fall short, was her motto. And whenMary Madeline came home, on the evening of her debut at the seminary, walking between the two young lady boarders, Amy Seaton and JennyAndrews, Mrs. Mumbles could not avoid drawing a comparison between thethree; and her daughter appeared to her like a blazing star between twosombre clouds, for Miss Seaton and Miss Andrews, who were both orphans, wore plain, dark gingham frocks and linen aprons. The third boarder was alittle brother of Miss Seaton's, about a dozen years of age. Charlie washis name; a bright, intelligent boy, brimful of mischief and fun. 

Mrs. Salsify kept no girl;--she could not find a good one, she said, --abad one she would not have, as long as she could manage to perform herwork herself, which she thought she could do with Mary Madeline'sassistance nights and mornings. It would not be for long, she trusted, this slavery to boarders, for Mr. Salsify continued to inform her, atstated intervals, that he was certainly "rising in his profession. "

The husband and wife sat alone one evening, indulging in confidentialdiscourse, as 'tis said conjugal mates are wont to do on certainoccasions. 

"Really, " exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, "it is astonishing, the quantity ofvictuals these boarders consume. It is so unfeminine and indelicate foryoung ladies to have appetites. I declare it quite shocks me to see thelarge slices of bread and butter disappearing down Jenny Andrews' littlethroat, and, as for that Charles Seaton, I believe he would eat a wholeplum pudding if he could get it. I left off making them long ago. "

"I have not noticed one on the table for several days, " returned Mr. Salsify, "and, as I saw the last one was sent away untouched, I fearedthey had detected the musty raisins. "

"O, la, no! the greedy mugs don't know the difference, I assure you, "answered the wife, "'twas only because they had stuffed themselves sofull of veal pie, that the pudding was not devoured. " Just then AmySeaton came in and asked if she might get a lunch for Charlie, as he wasnot in season for supper. 

"O, yes!" answered Mrs. Salsify, in her blandest tone; "here are thekeys. I lock the pantry because Mr. Mumbles is so absent-minded he oftenleaves the door open, and the cat gets in and devours the victuals. Getjust what you want for Charlie and a lunch for yourself and Jenny if youchoose. "

"Thank you, " said Amy taking the bunch of keys from Mrs. Salsify's hand. Wide swung the pantry door on its creaking hinges, and Amy's eyesbrightened as she stepped in, thinking of the little feast they were tohave up stairs on the good lady's sudden fit of generosity. She glancedher light eagerly along the shelves in search of pies and sweet cakes, for she had seen Mrs. Salsify baking a large amount of good things thatmorning; but nothing met her wistful gaze save a plateful of burntgingerbread crusts which had been picked over and left after theevening's meal, a plate of refuse meat, and a few bits of salt cod-fishin a broken saucer. She was about to go and tell Mrs. Mumbles her pantrywas destitute of victuals, when she recollected that lady superintendedher own work, and she should only inform her of what she already knew. Several similar instances of the lady's singular generosity now occurredto her mind. She recollected one day, on coming in unexpectedly fromschool, of finding Mrs. Salsify buying a large quantity of cherries, andof her saying she was going to pick them over, and would set them on thedairy shelf where she might go and eat of them whenever she chose. ButAmy could not find them anywhere, and when she innocently asked Mrs. Salsify where she had put them, that good lady, after blushing andstammering a good deal, said they proved so dirty she was obliged tothrow them away. This and other similar occurrences decided Amy to saynothing of the destitution of the pantry. So she returned the keys to herboarding mistress, and, without a word, ascended to her room, where shegave Charlie the bit of fish and crust of gingerbread she had obtained. 

"Is this all I'm to have for my supper?" said he, looking ruefully on thescanty, unpalatable food. 

"'Tis all I can find in the pantry, bub, " answered Amy; "can't you makeit answer for to-night? and to-morrow I will buy you something nice atthe bakery. "

"Why, " said Jenny, raising her dark, fun-loving eyes from a problem inEuclid, "I saw Mrs. Mumbles baking mince pies, and custards and plumcake, this morning. "

"Bah, " said Charlie, "I don't want any of her plum cake if she puts thesame kind of raisins in it she does in her puddings. But, Jenny, I thinkI know where she keeps her nice victuals. "

"Where?" asked Jenny, with an earnest look on Charlie's cunning face. 

"Have you never noticed that great tin boiler under her bed?" Jenny burstinto an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which Amy vainly endeavored tosilence, and directly Mary Madeline appeared and said, "Mother would liketo have a little less noise if they could favor her, as she had companybelow. " Then the three sat down on the floor, and Jenny and Charlieplanned a midnight attack upon the tin boiler. Amy, who was more sedateand cautious, advised them to desist; but 'twas just the exploit forJenny's frolicsome, mischievous temperament. Charlie was to take apillow-case, and creep softly under the bed, and fill it from thesupposed contents of the mysterious boiler, while Jenny stood at thekitchen door to assist him in bearing the precious burden to their room. How slow the hours passed after the plot was formed ere it could becarried into execution! Mrs. Salsify in the parlor below kept wishing hervisitors would go, for she had never seen the wicks in the camphene lampsof so surprising a length. They flooded the whole room with light, andshe recollected Jenny Andrews had asked the privilege of trimming themafter they were last used. She dared not rise and pick them down, forsuch narrow-souled persons as she are always fearful that the truth willbe known and their littleness exposed; so she sat in a perfect fever, watching the fluid getting every moment lower, and scarcely heeding theremarks of her guests. At length they took their departure, and Mrs. Salsify rushed in a sort of frenzy to the lamps, and dropped the capsover the blazing wicks. 

"Mary Madeline, " said Mr. Mumbles, reprovingly, "don't you know how totrim a lamp properly? Enough fluid has been wasted to-night by means ofthose long wicks to last two evenings with wicks of a proper length. "

"'Tis none of Maddie's doings, " returned Mrs. S. , "she is more prudentthan that. 'Twas that hussy of a Jenny Andrews who trimmed them afterMiss Pinkerton was here the other night. "

"Well, the girl ought to pay for the waste she has occasioned, " said Mr. Salsify, gruffly. "Let us retire now; I declare 'tis near eleveno'clock. " The conspirators in the room above heard with eager ears thedeparture of the guests, and sat in perfect silence till midnight chimedfrom the old clock tower. Then Charlie Seaton, pillow-case in hand, creptsilently down the stairs with Jenny close behind him. Mrs. Mumbles'bed-room opened out of the kitchen, and the door was always standingajar. Thus Charlie's quick eye had detected the boiler while sitting atthe dining table directly opposite her room. As he now paused a moment inthe kitchen before crossing the forbidden precincts, the deep-drawnsonorous breathings convinced him that Mr. And Mrs. Salsify Mumbles werelulled in their deepest nocturnal slumbers. Gently dropping on his knees, he crawled softly to the object of plunder. Lucky chance! the cover wasoff, and the first thing his hand touched was a knife plunged to the hiltin a large loaf. This he captured and deposited in his bag. Then followedpies, tarts, etc. , and last a small jar, which he took under his arm, and, thus encumbered, crept on all-fours to the kitchen door, where Jennyrelieved him of the jar. They softly ascended the stairs, where Amy wasready to receive them. 

"How dared you take that jar?" said she; "what does it contain?"

"I don't know, " said Charlie; "but I know what my pillow-case contains. It was never so well lined before, Amy. "

Thus saying, he commenced removing its contents, while Jenny pulled theknife out of the loaf, which proved to be pound cake, uncovered the jar, and pronounced it filled with cherry jam. "Ay, " said Amy, "there's wherethose cherries I saw her buying of Dilly Danforth went, then. She told methey were so dirty she had to throw them away. But I think you had bettergo and carry these things back. "

"Never, " said Charlie; "I am going to eat my fill once in Mrs. Mumbles'house. "

"But what will she say when she discovers her loss?"

"That is just what I'm anxious to know, " said Jenny. 

"So am I, " returned Charlie, chopping off a large slice of pound cake anddividing two pies in halves. "The old lady goes in for treating hervisitors well, don't she? I dare say these condiments were intended tosupply her guests for years. I wish we had some spoons to eat this cherryjam. "

"You had better carry that back, " said Amy. 

"No, I will not go down on my knees and crawl under Mrs. Salsify's bedagain to-night on any consideration. "

"Neither would I, " said Jenny, "the old adage is 'as well be killed for asheep as a lamb;' so let us enjoy ourselves to the utmost in our power. Here is food enough, of the best kind too, to serve us well for theremainder of our stay here, only a week longer you know. I'll keep itlocked in my trunk. "

So saying, they cleared away, and Charlie bade good-night, and allretired to bright visions of pound cake and cherry jelly. 

 CHAPTER IV. 

 "She was a lovely little ladye, With blue eyes beaming sunnily; And loved to carry charity To the abodes of misery. "

There was a tiny bark floating down the flower-bordered river that woundso gracefully through the beautiful village of Wimbledon, and a smilinglittle lady, in a neat gingham sun-bonnet, sat coseyly in the stern, beneath the shady wing of the snow-white sail. A noble-looking lad pliedthe oar with graceful ease, chatting merrily the while with the littlegirl, and laughing at her constant and matronly care of a large basketwhich was placed beside her, neatly covered with a snowy napkin. "Onewould think that there were diamonds in that basket, Nell, you guard itso carefully, " said he. 

"No, only nice pies mother gave me leave to take to Aunt Dilly Danforth, the poor washerwoman, " returned the little miss, again smoothing thenapkin and adjusting the basket in a new position. "I wish you would rowas carefully as you can, Neddie, so as not to jostle them much. "

"So I will, sis, " returned he; "let's sing the Boatman's Song as we glidealong. " And their voices rose on the calm summer air clear and sweet asthe morning song of birds. Now and then their light barge touched theshore, and Ned plucked flowers to twine in Ellen's hair. O, that ever, down life's uncertain tide, these innocent young spirits might float ascalmly, happily on to the broad ocean of eternity!

"Is that the old shanty where Dilly lives?" said the lad at length, pointing to a low black house, just beyond a clump of brushwood, whichthey were swiftly approaching. 

"Yes, " said Ellen, gathering up her basket. 

"Here I must lose you, then, " said Ned; "how I wish you would go fishingwith me down to the cove!"

Ellen smiled. "Are you going to be all alone, Neddie?" asked she. 

"Nobody but Charlie Seaton will be with me. You like him. "

"Yes, I like him well enough, " said Ellen, innocently; "but I would notcare to go a-fishing with him. "

"Why not, sis?" inquired Ned. 

"Because it would not be pretty for a little girl to go fishing withboys. "

"Ha, ha!" laughed the lad; "what a prudent little sis I have got! for allthe world like Amy Seaton. But I like Jenny Andrews better, she is sofull of fun and frolic. Did you know how she and Charlie Seaton robbedold Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, one night not long since?"

"O, no! robbed her? That was wrong, surely. "

"O, no! You see she nearly starved them, so they helped themselves to hersweetmeats without invitation. That's all; not very wicked, I'm thinking, Nell. "

"I think it was wicked for her not to give them enough food, and wickedfor them to take it without her knowledge, " said Ellen, after a pause. "But what did she say when she discovered her loss?"

"Not a word. What could she say?" asked Ned. 

"I could not guess, and therefore inquired, " said Ellen. "Will Jenny cometo school next term?"

"Yes, Jenny, Amy and Charlie, and board at Dea. Allen's. That will be agood place; only I fancy the deacon's long prayers and sober phiz willprove a sad trial to Jenny. Well, you must go, sis, " said he, pushing hisboat high up on the green, grassy bank, by a few skilful strokes of hisoar. Then assisting her out and placing the precious basket safely in herarms, he was soon gliding down the smooth current again. Ellen directedher steps toward the dilapidated dwelling a few yards before her, turningfrequently to catch a glimpse of her brother's little bark as it came inview through some opening in the shrubbery that grew on the river's side. 

One timid rap brought Willie Danforth to the door. The poor boy lookedquite embarrassed to behold pretty, neat Ellen Williams standing there onthe miserable, dirty threshold. "Good day, Willie, " said she, pleasantly;"is your mother at home?"

"No, miss, she is scrubbing floors at Mr. Pimble's, " said Willie, awkwardly enough. 

"O, I am sorry she is gone, for I wanted to see her very much. Will youlet me come in and leave this basket for her?"

"O, yes!" answered the poor lad, "or I will carry it in for you. "

"I can carry it very well, " said Ellen, "if you will only let me go in. "

"I would let you come in, Miss Ellen, " returned Willie, "only I am afraidit would frighten you to see such a sad, dirty place;" and the raggedlittle fellow blushed crimson, as he thus revealed his poverty anddestitution. 

Ellen pitied his embarrassment, and said, "I should like to go in, Willie, because, if I saw what you needed, I could tell mother, and shewould make you more comfortable, I know. "

The boy lifted the wooden latch of the inner room. The door opened with adismal creak, and Ellen entered. There was one old, broken-backed chair, which he offered her, and sat down himself on a rough bench, with asorrowful, embarrassed expression on his pale, interesting features. Ellen, still noticing Willie's painful confusion, knew not what to doafter placing her basket on the rude, wooden table, and began to regretthat she so strongly pressed an entrance. 

"I told you you would be frightened, " said the boy at length, in achoking tone. 

"O, I am not frightened!" returned Ellen, glad to speak now that he hadopened the way for her; "I am only sorry to find people living soforlornly in our pretty, happy village. I thought you had a good nicehouse to live in, for Mrs. Pimble said so, and that her husband rented itto you for almost nothing, and that your mother--but I won't say anymore, " said Ellen, stopping short in her discourse. 

"Yes, " said Willie, "tell me all she said, and then I will tell yousomething. "

"Well, then, she said your mother only went out washing to make folksthink she was needy, so they would give her food and clothing. 'Twaswicked for her to say it, surely. "

Willie's face grew pale as death, and then flushed crimson to thetemples. 

"Don't look so, " said Ellen, approaching the bench and putting her littlehand on his hot cheeks. "O, Willie! you are sick and tired, " shecontinued, soothingly; "will you not lay your head down on my lap, andtell me all about your troubles?"

Willie's full heart overflowed. Those accents of kindness, so strange tohis ears, what a magic power they had! He leaned his dear bright head onher soft little palm, and his low voice told in broken accents a tale ofwant and suffering. Ellen wept, for her young heart was full oftenderness and sympathy. The hours sped on, while they thus heldconverse, till a hand on the latch aroused them. 'Twas Dilly returnedfrom her day's work at Mr. Pimble's. Willie sprang up to meet her. "O, mother!" said he, "a sweet angel has come since you left me, thismorning, crying because I was so hungry. "

"Alas, my boy!" said the woman, "I fear you must still go hungry, for Ihave brought you nothing. Mr. Pimble says my week's work must go forrent. "

Now was Ellen's moment of joy, as she bounded across the broken floor andlifted the napkin from her basket. "No, no, Willie, --no, no, Aunt Dilly, you shall not go hungry to bed to-night. Look what mother has sent you!How thoughtless of me not to have remembered my basket before, whenWillie has been suffering from hunger all these long, long hours!"

"O, no! I have not thought of being hungry since you came, " said the boy. 

Mrs. Danforth approached the basket and gazed on its contents withtearful eyes. She had not seen the like on her table for many a day, and, dropping on her knees, she breathed a silent prayer to God for hisgoodness in putting it into the hearts of his children to remember her inher need! Willie brought forth a small bundle of sticks and lighted afire, while Ellen ran and filled a black, broken-nosed tea-kettle, andhung it on a hook over the blaze. It soon began to sing merrily, and thechildren laughed and said it had caught some of their happiness. ThenEllen took some tea from the paper her mother had wrapped so nicely, putit in a cracked blue bowl, and Willie fixed a bed of coals for her to setit on. Dilly sat all the while gazing with tearful eyes on the twobeaming faces which were constantly turned up to hers, to see if she gaveher approval to their movements. At length the repast was prepared, and, after partaking with them, as Mrs. Danforth insisted upon her doing, Ellen set out for home, with Willie by her side. He hesitated some atfirst, when his mother told him he must accompany her, for his jacket wasragged and his shoes out at the toes. But when Ellen said soreproachfully he was "too bad, too bad, to make her go all the way homealone, " he brightened, and said "he would be very glad to go with her ifshe would not be ashamed of him. " So they set out together, each holdinga handle of the basket; Ellen bidding Aunt Dilly a cordial good-by, andpromising to come soon again and bring her mother. They met Mr. Pimble ontheir way, who scowled and passed by in silence. 

Ellen found her mother anxiously waiting her return. She heard withpleasure and interest her little daughter's animated description of hervisit; but when she said she had promised to visit Aunt Dilly soon again, and take her mother with her, Mrs. Williams looked sad. 

"What makes you look so, dear mamma?" said Ellen; "will you not go andsee poor Dilly?"

"I shall be very glad to do so, my dear child, " answered the fond mother, "if it is possible. You know your father has often wished to remove to aplace where his skill in architecture might be employed to betteradvantage, and an excellent opportunity now offers for him to dispose ofhis situation here, and remove to a large city, where his services willbe in constant demand. "

"And I shall never see Willie Danforth again, " said Ellen, bursting intotears. 

Childhood is so simple and unaffected, ever expressing with innocentconfidence its dearest thought, and claiming sympathy! Mrs. Williamstried long to comfort her little daughter, and at length succeeded byholding out a prospect that she might some time return and visit herearly associates. Ned was consoled by the same prospect. But then, wenever know, when we leave a place, what changes may occur ere we revisitits now familiar scenes. Mrs. Williams felt this truth more vividly thanher children. But few changes had marked their sunny years, and it neveroccurred to their youthful minds but what Wimbledon as she was to-nightwould be exactly the same should they return five or ten years hence. Themother did not disturb this pleasant illusion, "for experience comesquite soon enough to young hearts, " she said, "and I'll not force herunwelcome lessons upon my happy children. " So Ned and Ellen, when it wasdecided they should leave on the morrow, almost forgot the pangs ofdeparture from their rich, beautiful home, so intently were they dwellingon the joy of returning and meeting their schoolmates and companionsafter a period of separation. O, gay, light-hearted youth! What is therein all life's after years, its gaudy pomp, its feverish flame, orshort-lived honors, that can atone for the loss of thy buoyant hopes, andsimple, trusting faith?

Sad was poor Dilly Danforth when she heard of the sudden departure of thebenevolent Williams family, and bitterly she exclaimed, "No good thing islong vouchsafed the poor. Our poverty will only seem the darker now forhaving been brightened for a transient hour. "

Willie, who had returned from his walk with Ellen with severe pains inhis limbs and head, fell sick of a rheumatic fever, and suffered much forthe want of warm clothing, care and medical treatment. O, how often hethought of Ellen! "If she were there he would not suffer thus. She wouldbe warmth, care, clothing and physician for him. "

His mother was obliged to labor every day to procure fuel for the fire;and to warm the great, cold room, where the piercing autumn blasts blewthrough wide gaping cracks and chasms, and get a bottle of wormwoodoccasionally, with which to bathe his aching limbs, was the utmost herefforts could accomplish. With this insufficient care, 'twas no wonderWillie grew rapidly worse. One bitter cold night Dilly sat down utterlydiscouraged as she placed the last stick of wood on the fire. Her boy hadbeen so ill for several days she could not leave him to go to heraccustomed labor, and consequently the small pile of fuel was consumed. What was she to do? Willie was already crying of cold, and she sat overthe expiring blaze crying because she had naught to render himcomfortable. After a while he grew silent, and, softly approaching, shefound he had sunk into a quiet slumber. Carefully covering him with thethin, tattered blankets, she pinned a shawl over her head, and, softlyclosing the door behind her, stole forth into the biting night air, anddirected a hasty tread toward Mr. Pimble's great brick mansion. A brightlight gleamed through the kitchen windows as she ascended the steps andgave a hurried knock. Directly she heard a shuffling sound, and knew Mr. Pimble, in his heelless slippers, was approaching. Fast beat her heart asthe door opened, and she beheld his gaunt form and unyielding features. 

"What brings you here this bitter cold night, Dilly Danforth?" exclaimedhe, in a surly tone, as the furious blast rushed in his face, and nearlyextinguished the lamp he held in his skinny grasp. 

She stepped inside, and he closed the door. 

"'Tis the bitter cold night which brings me, Mr. Pimble, " she said, feeling she must speak quickly, for Willie was at home alone; "my boy issick and suffering from cold. For myself, I would not ask a favor, butfor him I entreat you to give me an armful of wood to keep him fromperishing. "

"Why don't you work and buy your wood?" asked he, angered by this suddendemand upon his charity. 

"I worked as long as I could leave my child, " answered Mrs. Danforth, "and I thought maybe you would be willing to allow me something for mywork here. "

"Allow you something, woman? Don't I give you the rent of that greathouse for the few light chores you do for us, which really amount tonothing? Your impudence is astonishing;" and Esq. Pimble's voice quiveredwith rage, as he thus addressed the trembling woman. 

Dilly stood irresolute, and Mr. Pimble was silent a few moments, when avoice from the parlor called out, imperiously, "Pimble, I want you!"

The man roused himself and rushed to the door in such haste as to loseboth his slippers. 

"What are you blabbing about out there?" Dilly heard Mrs. Pimble ask, inan angry tone. 

"Dilly Danforth has come for some wood, " was the moody reply. 

"And so you are giving wood to that lazy, foolish, stupid creature, areyou?"

"No, I am not. She says her boy is sick and she has no fire. "

"A pretty tale, and I hope 'tis true. She'll learn by and by her sin andfolly. If she had asserted her own rights, as she should have done, andleft her drunken husband and moping boy years ago, she might have beenwell off in the world by this time. But she chose like an idiot to livewith him and endure his abuses till he died, and since she has tiedherself to that foolish boy. O, I have no patience with such stupidwomen! They are a disgrace to the true female race. Go and tell her to gohome and never enter my doors a-begging again. "

Dilly did not wait to receive this unfeeling message, but pulled her thinblanket around her, and stole out in the chill night air, and ran towardhome as swiftly as possible. She stumbled over something on thethreshold. It was a bundle of firewood. How came it there? She could nottell, but seized it in her arms, ran hastily in, and approached Willie'sbed-side. He was still sleeping tranquilly, and that night a comfortablefire, lighted by unknown generosity, blazed on the lowly hearth. 

 CHAPTER V. 

 "There is a jarring discord in my ear, It setteth all my soul ashake with fear, Good sir, canst drive it off?"----

 OLD PLAY. 

All Wimbledon was aroused one cold November morning by a direfulconglomeration of sounds;--strange, discordant shrieks, ominous groans, a clanking, as of iron chains and fetters, a slow, heavy, elephantinetread gradually growing on the ear, and a deep, continuous rumbling as ofearthquakes in the bowels of the earth. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, nervous anddelicate as she was, clung fast to the neck of her liege lord when heattempted to throw open the sash of his window, to discover the import ofthis unusual disturbance of the nocturnal stillness of Wimbledon. GoodDeacon Allen, who was lying on his deaf ear, became restless, and visionsof the final retribution and doom of the wicked harassed his slumbers. Suddenly he awoke, and dismal groans and unearthly rumblings struck histerrified ear. "Sally! Sally!" said he, leaping from bed and giving hissleeping spouse a vigorous shake, "why sleepest thou? arise and don thydrab camlet and high-crowned cap, and prepare to meet thy Lord; forbehold he cometh!"

"Samuel, " said the good wife but half awake, "you are prating in yoursleep. Return to your pillow and be quiet till day-break. "

"You speak like a foolish virgin, Sally, " returned the excited deacon. "Do you not hear the roaring of the resurrection thunder and the wailingsof the wicked?"

"I do hear something, " said Mrs. Allen, now poking her night-capped headfrom beneath the blankets, and listening a moment attentively. "'Tis asound of heavy carts drawn by oxen over frozen ground. Ay, I guess it isthe new family, that bought out neighbor Williams, moving their goods. Just look out the window, --our yards join, --and see if there is not astir there. " The deacon obeyed. 

"O, yes, " said he, "I can distinguish several loaded teams and duskyfigures moving to and fro. "

"I thought 'twas the new-comers, " returned the wife, who possessed moreready wit and shrewdness than her amiable consort, and, withal, couldhear vastly better. "You had better come to bed again, Samuel;--'tis anhour to daylight. "

"I cannot get to sleep again, I have been so disturbed, " said thehusband, fidgetting round in the dark room to find his clothes. 

"O, pshaw!--put your deaf ear up and you'll soon fall off, " answered thewife, drawing the covering over her head. Deacon Allen, who had a veryhigh opinion of his wife's good sense, concluded to follow her advice, and the happy couple were soon enjoying as pleasant a morning snooze, asthough neither the resurrection nor the "new family" had disturbed theirslumbers. 

Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton, who slept in the room above, never heard asound, nor did Charlie in his cosey chamber beyond, and great was theastonishment of the young people, on opening their casements, to beholdthe long line of heavy-loaded teams drawn up in the yard of the splendidmansion which stood next above Dea. Allen's, the former residence of Esq. Williams. Teamsters in blue frocks were unfastening the smoking oxen fromthe ponderous carts, and as the girls hurried below to impart theintelligence of the arrival of the new family to Mrs. Allen, they heardthe voice of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and entering the sitting-room foundthat lady laying aside her bonnet and shawl. Mary Madeline was standingby the window gazing into the adjoining yard. Jenny and Amy had not seentheir former boarding mistress since they left her house at the close ofthe summer term, several months before. But she was so elate about thearrival of the new family that all memory of their former ill-usageseemed to have escaped her, and she grasped the hands of both and shookthem cordially. "I am glad to see you, " she exclaimed; "why have you notcalled on us this fall? Mary Madeline has often said I wish Jenny and Amywould come in, it would seem so much like old times. Here, my dear, " saidshe, seizing hold of the young lady's shawl and pulling her from thewindow, "don't be so taken up with the new family that you can't speak toyour old friends. " Mary Madeline now turned and spoke to her formerschoolmates. Then, drawing a chair close to the window, she resumed hergaze, with her gloves and handkerchief lying unheeded on the floor andher gay shawl dragging behind her. "O, mother! mother!" she exclaimed atlength, "there comes the family. "

Mrs. Salsify, who was engaged in telling Mrs. Allen of Mr. Salsify'sprosperity, and how he was "rising in his profession, " and how hemeditated adding another story to his house and putting a piazza round itnext spring, dropped all, even her snuff-box, and rushed to the window asa large covered wagon, drawn by a span of elegant black horses, droverapidly into the adjoining yard. First alighted a tall man in a blackovercoat, --the master no doubt, the gazers decided, --then a tall man in agray overcoat, then a tall man in a brown overcoat. And the man in theblack overcoat and the man in the gray overcoat moved away, the former upthe steps of the mansion and around the terraces, trying the fasteningsof the Venetian blinds, and examining the cornices and pillars of theporticos; the latter turned in the direction of the stables andouthouses, while the man in the brown overcoat assisted three ladies toalight, all grown-up women, one short and fat, the other two tall andthin. The gazers were a little puzzled by the appearance of the newfamily. As far as they could discover there was no great difference inthe respective ages of the six individuals who had alighted from thewagon, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles declared it as her opinion that thefamily consisted of three brothers who had married three sisters fortheir wives. The short, fat woman, who had a rubicund visage andturned-up nose, and wore a broad-plaided cashmere dress, drew forth abunch of keys from a wicker basket that hung on her arm, and with apompous tread ascended the marble steps, unlocked the broad, mahogany-panelled door, turned the massive silver knob, and, swinging itwide, strode in, the tall ladies in blue cloaks following close behind. Soon sashes began to be raised, blinds flew open, and the tall ladieswere seen standing on high chairs hanging curtains of rich damask andexquisitely wrought muslin, before the deep bay windows. The three tallmen threw off their overcoats, and, with the assistance of theblue-frocked teamsters, commenced the business of unlading the carts. 

"All the furniture is bagged, " said Mrs. Salsify, impatiently; "onecannot get a glimpse to know whether 'tis walnut, or rosewood, ormahogany. They mean to make us think 'tis pretty nice, whether 'tis ornot; but we shall find out some time, for they can't always be so shy. Well, Mary Madeline, " she added, turning to her daughter, "we may as wellgo home, I guess;--there's nothing to be seen here but chairs and sofassewed up in canvas. I thought I would run over a few minutes, Mrs. Allen, as I knew your windows looked right into the yard of the new comers, andwe could get a good view. Of course, we wanted to know what sort of folkswe were going to have for neighbors. I hope they'll be different from theWilliams'. "

"Why?" asked Mrs. Allen, looking up from the brown patch she was engagedin sewing on the elbow of the deacon's black satinet coat. "I only hopethey will prove as good neighbors and I will be perfectly satisfied. "

"O, I don't know but what the Williams' were good enough, but they weretoo exclusive, too aristocratic for me. Mrs. W. Never thought MaryMadeline fit for her Ellen to associate with. "

"How do you know she thought so?" asked Mrs. Allen; "for my part, I livedMrs. Williams' nearest neighbor for ten years or more, and alwaysconsidered her a very kind-hearted, unassuming woman, wholly untaintedwith the pride and haughtiness which too often disfigure the charactersof those who possess large store of this world's goods and move in theupper circles. "

"Well, you were more acquainted with Mrs. Williams than I was, of course;but she was not the kind of woman to suit my taste. There's Mrs. Pimbleand Mrs. Lawson now, both rich and splendid, keep their carriages andservants, but they are not above speaking to common people. "

"I am not personally acquainted with those ladies, " answered Mrs. Allen. 

"They are reformers, " said Mrs. Mumbles, in a reverential tone; "youshould hear their awful speeches. Daniel Webster could never equal them, folks tell me. "

"I have understood that they belonged to the fanatical class of femalelecturers that have arisen in our country within the last few years. "

"O, they hold conventions everywhere, and such terrible gesticulations asthey pronounce against the tyranny and oppression of the female sex bythe monster man!" said Mrs. Salsify. "I declare I wish they would haveone of their indignation meetings here, for I think the men are gettingthe upper hand among us. "

"Doubtless you would join their ranks should they do so, " observed Mrs. Allen, with a quiet smile, as she arose, gave the deacon's coat a shake, and hung it on a peg behind the door. 

"Well, I don't know but I should, " returned Mrs. S. ; "but come, Maddie, how we are wasting time! I declare, two carts are already unloaded, andthere goes the seminary bell. 'Tis nine o'clock. " Jenny, Amy and Charlie, ran down stairs all equipped for school, as Mrs. Mumbles and her daughterstepped into the hall, and all went forth together. Mrs. M. Repeated herinvitation for the young ladies and Charlie to visit her, and the girlslaughingly promised to do so at their first leisure. Mary Madeline wentto Edson's store on an errand, and her mother proceeded directly home. Great was her anger to behold the back kitchen door swinging wide. Sheshut it behind her with a slam, muttering some impatient exclamationabout Mr. Salsify's stupid carelessness. As she stood by the stovewarming her chilled fingers, a noise from the pantry startled her ears, and, opening the door, she beheld the great, shaggy watch-dog, thatbelonged to the store of Edson & Co. , lying on his haunches with a nicefat pullet between his paws, which he was devouring with evident relishand gusto. He turned his head towards her, uttered a low growl, and wenton with his breakfast again. Mrs. Salsify looked up to a peg on which shehad hung six nicely-dressed chickens the night before. Alas! the last onewas between the bloody devourer's paws. She glanced toward a pot she hadleft full of cream, under the shelves. It was empty; and toward herrolling-board, where she had left a pan of rich pie-crust, with which shewas intending to cover her thanksgiving pies. All had disappeared. Shetrembled with rage. 

"Get out, you thievish rascal!" she exclaimed, bringing her footviolently to the floor. 

The dog sprang toward her, and, seizing the skirt of her gay-striped, bombazine dress with his glistening ivories, rent it from the waist, flewthrough the parlor window, and rushed through streets, by-lanes andalleys, rending the flaring fabric, and dragging it through mud-holestill it looked like some fiery-colored flag borne away by the enemy indisgrace. 

Mrs. Salsify rushed down into her husband's shop in awful plight, herhair standing on end, and her great, green eyes almost starting fromtheir sockets. Mr. Salsify looked with amazement on his lady, as did alsothe half-score of customers that stood around his counters. Hersaffron-colored skirt was rent in divers places, revealing the black oneshe wore beneath, and the gay-striped waist she still wore was hung roundwith ragged fragments of the vanished skirt. 

"Lord, love us, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mr. Salsify, rushingtoward his wife. 

"Edson's dog has eat up six chickens, a cream-pot, a rolling-board, pie-crust, and all!" exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, with a frantic air, as shefell into her husband's outstretched arms, wholly unmindful of thelaughter her appearance and words had excited among her good man'scustomers. 

"Edson's dog, --how could he get into the house?" demanded Mr. Mumbles. 

"I saw him out with Dick Giblet, this morning, when he was leavingpackages, " said little Joe Bowles, with a mischievous leer in his blackeyes. 

The husband and wife exchanged a glance. The whole truth flashed uponthem, --'twas a trick of Dick's. Mr. Salsify ordered his customers toleave the shop, and locking the door, he led his terrified, tremblingwife up stairs, where they found Mary Madeline lying on the floor in afainting fit, with the fragments of her mother's skirt clenched tightlyin her cold hands. 

 CHAPTER VI. 

 "Her face was fairer than face of earth; What was the thing to liken it to? A lily just dipped in the summer dew? Parian marble--snow's first fall? Her brow was fairer than each, --than all. And so delicate was each vein's soft blue, 'Twas not like blood that wandered through. Rarely upon that cheek was shed, By health or by youth, one tinge of red, And never closest look could descry, In shine or shade, the hue of her eye, But, as it were made of light, it changed With every sunbeam that over it ranged. "

The midnight stars were over all the heaven, O, wildly, wildly bright!Orion, like a flaming monarch, led up "the host of palpitating stars" totheir proud zenith, while, far in the boreal regions, danced strange, atmospheric lights, with flitting, fantastic motions and ever-changingforms and colors. A young girl stood in the deep recess of a largewindow, with the rich, blue-wrought damask curtains wrapped closely abouther slight, fragile form, gazing intently on the splendors of themidnight heaven. Long she stood there, and no sound broke the stillness, save now and then a half-audible sigh. At length she said, "I cannotendure this solitude and the depression which is stealing over me. Wouldthat I had a mother to love and bless me! Father is often so strange andsilent, and Rufus cannot sympathize with my feelings. I must call Sylvato bear me company, for one of my nervous attacks is upon me, and Icannot sleep. " Softly opening a side-door, she said, in a voice scarcelyabove a whisper, "Sylva, are you awake?"

"Yes, " was the answer; "what is your wish, Miss Edith?"

"That you would come and sit with me a while. "

"What time is it!"

"I know not; but, by the stars, it should be little after midnight. "

"Return to your room, and I will soon be there with a light, " answeredthe one called Sylva. 

The young girl did as requested, and sank down in a large arm-chair whichnearly concealed her in its soft cushions. Presently the small side-dooropened, and Sylva entered, bearing an astral lamp and a few light piecesof kindling wood. 

"O, I don't mind a fire!" said Miss Edith. 

"Well, I do, " answered the woman; "you would catch your death, up herehalf the night with no fire. "

"'Tis a cold place we are come to, isn't it Sylva?" said the young lady, springing from her chair and wrapping an elegant cashmere dressing-gown, lined with azure satin, round her tall, delicate figure, and then againsinking down among the soft velvet cushions of her spacious fauteuil. 

"Yes, Miss Edith, it is, indeed, " answered Sylva, as she lighted a brightfire in the polished grate. "How your father expects to rear so fragile abud in this bleak region I do not know. "

"I have never seen him in such spirits as since we came here, " returnedEdith, toying with the silken tassels of her rich robe. "You know he wasalways so silent and reserved in our former home, Sylva. But sometimes Ifancy there is something unnatural in his manner. One moment he willlaugh wildly, and the next a dark frown will have gathered on his brow. Twice he has caught me in his arms and said, 'Edith! Edith, you have apart to play, and I rely on you to do it!' Then he would look on me sosternly, I would burst into tears, and strive to free myself from hisembrace. What did he mean by such words, Sylva?"

"Why, that you are coming on to the stage of action, and he desires youto be educated and accomplished in a manner to adorn the high circles inwhich you will move. "

"O, more than that, Sylva!" said Edith doubtfully; "he need not havelooked so stern, were that all; but still he is a kind, indulgent fatherfor the most part. I should not complain;" and the young girl relapsedinto thoughtful silence. The pale fire-light glowed on her delicatefeatures. One tiny white hand rested on the cushioned arm of the chair, and the large, melancholy blue eyes were fixed on the glowing blazewithin the shining ebon grate. The profile was strictly Grecian inoutline, and the soft, silken hair fell in a shower of golden ripplesover her small, sloping shoulders. Her lips were vermilion red, anddisclosed two rows of tiny pearls whenever they parted with dimplingsmiles. 

"Have you become acquainted with any of the village people, Sylva?" askedthe fair girl, rousing at length from her reverie. 

"No, save this young Mrs. Edson, who called yesterday, I have seen noone, " returned the woman, "unless I mention that sunken-eyed washerwoman, Dilly Danforth, as she is called. "

"O, I saw her on the steps one day! What a forlorn-looking creature sheis! I think she must be very poor. Still, it seems to me there should beno poverty in this rich, happy-appearing village. I fancy it will be alove of a place in summer, Sylva, when all the maples and lindens are inleaf, and the numerous gardens in flower. O, when father took me out inthe new sleighing phaeton last week, I saw a most magnificent mansion, grander than ours, even. The grounds seemed beautifully laid out, andover the arching gateway I read the words 'Summer Home' sculptured in themarble. It is closed at present, but when the occupants return in thespring, I hope I shall get to know them, for I would dearly love to visitat so delightful a place. Father said I should become acquainted with thefamily. He knows their names, and I think said he had met the gentlemanonce. " Edith grew quite smiling and happy as she prattled on, formingplans and diversions for the coming summer. Sylva listened to herinnocent conversation in respectful silence, and, after a while, as thefire burned low, and the cocks began to crow from their neighboringperches, the sweet girl ceased to speak. She had wearied herself andfallen asleep. 

The sun was shining brightly through the blue damask curtains when sheawoke, and Sylva was bending over her, parting away the rich masses ofauburn curls which had fallen over her face as she leaned her head overthe arm of the chair. "Your father and Rufus are calling for you, " saidthe attendant pleasantly. 

"Why, how long I have slept!" said Edith, opening her blue eyes with awondering expression. "What o'clock is it, Sylva?"

"It is half-past nine, " answered the woman. 

"I have been dreaming the strangest dream about that beautiful mansion Iwas telling you I saw in my ride the other day--that 'Summer Home, ' as itis so sweetly styled. I thought I saw a lovely young girl there, youngerthan myself, but far more womanly in aspect, and she said she was mycousin, and kissed me, and gave me rare flowers and delicious fruit. Didyou say father had called for me? Well, I'll dress and go down in theparlor. What are you doing there, Sylva?"

"Getting your muff and tippet, " answered she. 

"Is father going to take me out?" asked Edith with animation. 

"Rufus is going to take you to church, " said Sylva. "He said youexpressed a wish to go last Sabbath, but it was too cold. To-day is morepleasant, and he is ready to attend you. "

"He is kind, " said Edith. "Am I not a naughty girl to murmur when I havea brother so good, and a father who loves me so dearly?"

"You do not murmur, do you, Miss Edith?"

"Sometimes I wish I had a mother, or that she had lived long enough toleave her form and features impressed on my memory. "

A tear fell as the fair girl spoke thus, but she brushed it quickly away, and commenced arraying herself for church. 

"I shall be delighted to behold the interior of that antiquated lookingbuilding, " remarked she, as Sylva placed the dainty hat over theclustering curls; "and, besides, I can see all the village people, andform some opinion of those who are henceforth to constitute ourassociates and friends. "

"And all the people will see you, too, " said Sylva, smiling. 

"O, I don't mind that!" answered Edith; "they would all see me, sooner orlater, as I'm to go to school, in the spring, at the white seminary onthe hill. "

Thus speaking, the beautiful girl descended to the drawing-room. A tall, elegantly-proportioned man, with a magnificent head of raven black hair, which hung in one dense mass of luxuriant curls all round his broad, marble-like brow, and quite over his manly shoulders, was leaning in acareless, graceful attitude against a splendid mahogany-cased piano, thatstood in the centre of the apartment, and moving his white, taper fingersover the pearl-tipped keys, waking now rich bursts of song, and, anon, dwelling long on deep, solemn notes, that pierced the soul withmelancholy. He did not move when the door opened, and Edith crossed theroom and stood beside him ere he noticed her presence. 

"Where is brother Rufus?" she asked, drawing on her tiny, lemon-coloredgloves. 

The gentleman turned and gazed down upon the fair speaker. The clearcomplexion and soft blue eyes of the daughter were exact counterparts ofthe father's; so were the rich red lips and pearly teeth. Their onlypoint of difference was in the color of the hair. "What do you want ofRufus?" asked he, in a tone almost stern, after he had gazed on herseveral moments in silence. She turned her speaking eyes upon his face, and answered, "Sylva said he would take me to church. "

"To church!" said her father, now relaxing his features into a smile, "what an odd fancy! And are you arrayed in this fine garb to attendservice in an old, dilapidated country church?"

"Do you think me very finely-dressed?" said Edith, archly, as she for amoment surveyed herself in the large mirror which hung from ceiling tofloor between the eastern windows. She wore a crimson velvet dress andmantle, a muff and tippet of white ermine, and a chapeau of light bluesatin, with a long, drooping white plume. Her hair was gathered intoluxuriant masses of curls each side of her sweet face, and confined bysprays of pearls and turquoises. 

Rufus now entered. He was very unlike his sister in personal appearance. His hair was the color of his father's, but far less abundant, andstraight as an Indian's. Eyes and complexion were both dark, and hiscountenance indicative of rather low intelligence, and weak intellectualpowers. The father looked on him as though he was not quite satisfiedwith the son who was, probably, to perpetuate his name. 

"Are you ready, Edith?" asked the youth. 

"Yes, " she returned. He approached to give her his arm, and, as they werepassing out, Edith caught her father looking grimly on them, and saidquickly, "Do you mind our going to church, papa? We will stay at home ifyou wish. "

"No, go along!" said he. "I'll not thwart you in so small a matter, andhope I may never have occasion to in a greater!" Edith looked up in hisface as he uttered these last words. There was a dark shade flitting overit. It haunted her all the while she was walking to church; but so manythings occupied her attention, after entering, it passed from her mind. 

 CHAPTER VII. 

 "I fain would know why woman is outraged, And trampled in the very dust by man, Who vaunts himself the lord of all the earth, And e'en the mighty realms of sea and air. "

Winter was passing away, and Wimbledon was making but slow progresstoward the better knowledge of the new family that had come among them. The silver plate on the hall door announced the master's name as Col. J. Corydon Malcome, a sounding appellation enough; and he was often seenwalking up and down the streets in his rich, fur-lined overcoat and lacedvelvet cap, placed with a courtly air over his cloud of ebon curls. Hewas known to be a widower, and the woful extravagancies into which MaryMadeline Mumbles cajoled her doting mother, were enough to make oneshudder in relating. Wimbledon was ransacked for the gayest taffetas, thejauntiest bonnets, and broadest Dutch lace, till, at length, poor Mr. Salsify went to his wife with a doleful countenance, and told her hecould never "rise in his profession" as long as she upheld Madeline insuch whimsical extravagance. Mrs. Salsify looked lofty, and tossed hercarroty head; but her husband had waxed bold in his distress, and couldnot be intimidated by ireful brows, or pursed-up lips. So he proceeded tofree his mind on this wise: "As for Mary Madeline's ever catching thathaughty, black-headed Col. Malcome, I know better; she can't do it, and Iwould much rather have her marry Theophilus Shaw, who is a steady, modestshoemaker. He makes good wages, and can maintain a wife comfortably, andwould treat her well; which is more than I would trust thatmurderous-looking colonel to do. "

"Well, you will have your own way, I suppose, " said Mrs. S. , putting onan injured expression. "I see it is about as Mrs. Pimble and thesisterhood tell me. Men are all a set of tyrants, and the women are theirslaves. "

"Come, come, wife!" said Mr. Salsify, impatiently; "pray, don't get anyof those foolish notions in your head. Depend upon it, nothing could soeffectually put a stop to my 'rising in my profession. ' The piazza andsecond story could never be built, if you neglected your home affairs, and went cantering about the country, like those evil-spirited women, turning everything topsy-turvy, and mocking at all law and order; but Iknow my wife has a mind too delicate and feminine to commit such bold, masculine actions. "

Mr. Mumbles had chosen the right weapon with which to combat his wife'sinclinations toward the Woman's Rights mania. A love of flattery was herweak point. It is with half her sex. We too often say, by way ofexpressing our disapproval of a certain man, "O, he is a grossflatterer!" thus very frequently condemning the quality we most admire inhim;--or, if not the one we most admire, at least the one which affordsus most pleasure and gratification when in his society. But to our tale:

On a certain blustering January day, a sleigh, containing two ladies anda gentleman, drove to the door of Col. Malcome's elegant mansion, andwere ushered into the spacious drawing-room by the blooming-visagedhousekeeper. Col. Malcome arose from the luxurious sofa on which he hadbeen reclining among a profusion of costly furs, and received hisvisitors with an air of courtly magnificence, which might have had theeffect to intimidate a modest, retiring female; but not king Solomon inall his glory could intimidate or abash Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, orMrs. Rebecca Potentia Lawson. As for poor, insignificant Peter Pimble, helooked quite aghast with terror and astonishment at his own temerity inpenetrating to a presence so imposing and sublime, and cuddled away inthe most obscure corner he could find, while his majestic wife assumed avelvet-cushioned arm-chair, which stood beside a marble table. 

"Perhaps you do not know our names?" said Mrs. Pimble, bending a sharpglance on Col. Malcome from beneath her shaggy brows. 

"I certainly have not that pleasure, madam, " answered the colonel, with agraceful bow. 

"I do not like that style of address, " said Mrs. Lawson, arising from theottoman on which she had been sitting, with her broad, white palmsextended to the warmth of the glowing grate, and throwing her statelyform upon a crimson sofa; "it is a fawning, affected, puppyish manner, which men assume when speaking to women, as if they were not capable ofunderstanding and appreciating a plain, common-sense mode of address. "

"Ah, yes!" said Mrs. Pimble, "man has so long reigned a tyrant ofabsolute sway, that centuries will pass, I fear, before he is dethroned, and woman elevated to her proper stand among the nations of the earth. "

Here she tossed her bonnet on the table, smoothed her bushy hair, and, drawing a red bandanna from her pocket, gave her long nose a vigorousrub, and settled herself in her soft chair again. Col. Malcome sat boltupright among the furs which were piled up around him, and stared at hisvisitors. Yes, refined and polite though he was, he forgot hisgood-breeding in surprise at the coarse, singular manners of hisinvoluntary guests. The figure in the extreme corner of the apartment atlength attracted his notice, and placing a chair in proximity to thefire, he said, "Will you not be seated, sir?"

The muffled shape moved, but the brawny lady in the rocking-chair spoke, and it was still again. 

"O, Pimble can stand, Mr. Malcome, " she said, "that's his name, and mineis Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, author of tracts for the amelioration ofenslaved and down-trodden woman; and this is Mrs. Rebecca PotentiaLawson, my sister and co-operater in the work of reform. "

Col. Malcome bowed; but, recollecting the rebuff one brief remark of hishad received, remained silent. 

"The object of our visit, " said Mrs. Lawson, "is to see and confer withthe ladies of your household. "

"Begging your pardon, " said the colonel, "my family contains but onelady. "

"Ah, the one we met at the door, then?" remarked Mrs. Pimble. 

"No, madam; that was my housekeeper, " returned the colonel. 

"Well, what do you call _her_?" asked Mrs. Lawson. 

"My housekeeper, madam, as I have just informed you. "

"She has no other name, I suppose?" said Mrs. Pimble, in a loud, ironicaltone; "she is to you a housekeeper, as a horse is a horse, or a cow acow;--not a woman"----

"O, yes! a woman, certainly, " interrupted the colonel. 

"A woman, but not a lady?" continued Mrs. Pimble. 

The gentleman bowed as if he felt himself understood. "Well, sir, " saidMrs. Lawson, peering on him through her green glasses, "will you pleaseto inform us of the difference between a woman and a lady?"

Col. Malcome, who loved the satirical, had a mind to apply it here, buthis politeness restrained him, and he merely remarked, "In a generalsense, none: in a particular, very great. "

"That is, in _your_ opinion, " said Mrs. Pimble. "Now let me tell youthere is no difference, whatever. The wide world over, every woman is alady--(the colonel hemmed, )--every woman is a lady, " repeated Mrs. P. , "and every lady is a woman. "

"That is, in _your_ opinion?" remarked Col. Malcome. 

"In every sensible person's opinion. "

"Well, sister Justitia, " said Mrs. Lawson, drawing forth a massive silverwatch, by a steel fob-chain; "we are wasting time. There's but an hour tothe lecture, and we have several miles to ride. Let us state the objectof our visit in a form suited to this man's comprehension. "

The colonel felt rather small, on hearing this depreciation of hisintellectual powers, but said nothing. 

"Well, make the statement, sister Potentia, " said Mrs. Pimble, foldingher brawny arms over her capacious chest, and giving a loud, masculineahem. 

"Mr. Malcome, we would like to see the female portion of your household, "said Mrs. Lawson, in a slow, measured tone, with an emphasis on everyword. 

As the colonel, indignant at the coarse vulgarity of the intruders, wasabout to reply in the negative--the door opened, and Edith entered, accompanied by Sylva, who led a small, white Spanish poodle by a silvercord. The little animal capered gracefully about, cutting all sorts ofcunning antics, much to the amusement of the young girl, till at lengthdiscovering the muffled shape of Pimble behind the door, he ran up tohim, smelt at his clothes, and commenced a furious barking. 

"You had better go out doors, Pimble, " said his wife; "you are socontemptible a thing even insignificant curs yelp at your heels. "

Mrs. Lawson laughed loudly at this witty speech, and the poor man wasabout disappearing outside the door, when Col. Malcome prevented his exitby bidding him be seated, and ordering Sylva to drive Fido from the room. Quiet being restored, and Mr. Pimble having ventured to drop tremblinglyon the extreme edge of the chair offered for his comfort and convenience, Col. Malcome said, "You wished to see the female portion of myhousehold:--here are two of them; my daughter and her attendant. "

"Her attendant!" remarked Mrs. Lawson, "I do not know as I exactlyunderstand the signification of that term, as applied by you in thepresent instance. "

"Her waiting-woman, then, " answered the colonel, "if that is a plainerterm. "

"Ay, yes; her waiting-woman, " resumed Mrs. L. "Well, your daughter looksrather puny and sickly. She needs exercise in the open air, I shouldsay, --narrow-chested, --comes from a consumptive family on the mother'sside?"

"Madam, " said Col. Malcome, with a sudden anger in his tone and manner, "I don't know as it is any business of yours, from what family mydaughter comes. "

"O, no particular business, " continued Mrs. Lawson, with undisturbedequanimity; "I only judged her to come of a consumptive race by her faceand form. Public speaking would be an excellent remedy for her weaklyappearance. That enlarges the lungs, and creates confidence and relianceon one's own powers. Miss Malcome, would you not like to attend some ofour lectures and reform clubs?"

"I don't know, " answered Edith, tremblingly. "I think I would if fatheris willing;" and she turned her sweet blue eyes up to his face, as if toread there her permission or refusal. 

"A slave to parental authority, I see, " remarked Mrs. Pimble; "but thislady, grown to years of maturity; she, surely, should have a mind of herown. Don't you think woman is made a galley-slave by the tyrant man?" shedemanded, turning her discourse on Sylva, who looked confused, as if shedid not quite understand the speech addressed to her. At length, sheasked timidly, "What woman do you refer to, madam?" "To all women uponthe face of the earth!" returned Mrs. Pimble, vehemently. "Are they notloaded with chains and fetters, and crushed down in filthy mire and dirtby self-inflated, tyrannizing man?"

"O, no!" answered Sylva, innocently; "no man ever put a chain on me, oron any woman of my acquaintance, or ever pushed one down in the dirt. "

"Poor fool!" exclaimed Mrs. Pimble, with great indignation; "you aregrovelling in the mire of ignorance, and man's foot is on your neck tohold you there. "

The figure that trembled on the edge of the chair was now heard callingfaintly, "Mrs. Pimble--Mrs. Pimble. "

"Pimble speaks, sister Justitia, " said Mrs. Lawson. 

"What do you want?" asked the lady, turning sharply round. 

"'Tis four o'clock, ma'am, " gasped he. 

"Four o'clock! didn't I tell you I wished to be at the lecture-room atthat hour?"

"I didn't like to interrupt you, " he answered feebly. 

"What a fool of a man!" exclaimed the enraged wife. "Bring the sleigh tothe door, instanter;" and Pimble rushed out, the ladies following closeon his heels, vociferating at the top of their voices, without even aparting salutation to the family they had been visiting. 

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 "It is a hermit. Well, methinks I've read In romance tales of such strange beings oft; But surely ne'er did think these eyes should see The living, breathing, walking counterpart. Canst tell me where he dwells? Far in the woods, In a lone hut, apart from all his kind. "

 OLD PLAY. 

The pale moonbeams peeped through the rents and crevices of DillyDanforth's wretched abode, as the poor woman sat on the hearth withWillie's head lying in her lap, while he read by the flickeringfire-light from the pages of a well-worn Bible. The little fellow hadnever fully recovered from that long, painful illness that had nearlycost him his life, and from which it is very possible he would neverhave arisen but for those little bundles of firewood that were soprovidentially laid on poor Dilly's threshold, by some charitable, thoughunknown, hand. They still continued to be placed there, and it was wellthey were so, for Mrs. Danforth's health had failed so much she was notable to perform half her former amount of labor; and had it not been forthese small armfuls of fuel, which very much resembled those Willie usedto collect, the washerwoman and her boy must have perished during thelong, cold winter season. Yes, perished in the very midst of Wimbledon;within a stone's throw of many a well-filled woodyard, and under the noseof a Mrs. Pimble's philanthropic efforts for the amelioration of herspecies. Dilly's neglect on the part of the many arose, not so much frominhumanity and covetousness, as from a wrong bias, which a few words hadcreated in the people's minds. A report had passed through the village, several months before, purporting to come from a reliable source, whichrepresented Mrs. Danforth as not so poor as she appeared; that sheassumed her poverty-stricken garb and appearance to excite sympathy, andthus swindle, in a small way, from the purses of her wealthy neighbors. There is nothing of which people have a greater horror than of beinghumbugged, if they know it; so, for the most part, the Wimbledoniansturned a deaf ear and cold shoulder on the washerwoman's sorrowfulsupplications for charity. Little Edith Malcome pitied the pale, sad facethat appeared at the kitchen door every Monday morning, and always askedher father's permission to give her a basket of victuals to carry home, which were always received with many grateful expressions by the poorwoman. 

Edith sat by the drawing-room window, one bleak, stormy winter morning, watching the snow as it fell silently to the earth, when a man ofsingular appearance, walking slowly along the opposite side of thestreet, attracted her notice. 

"O, father!" exclaimed she quickly, "come here; the oddest-looking man isgoing past. "

Col. Malcome rose from his seat by the fire and approached the window. "What a disgusting appearance he presents!" said he, gazing on theslowly-receding figure. "It angers me to see a man degrade himself bysuch uncouth apparel. "

"O, not disgusting! is he, father?" said Edith, "only odd and droll; andhis face looked so pale and mild, I thought it really pretty. If he onlywouldn't wear that short-waisted, long-tailed coat, with those funnylittle capes on the shoulders, and leave off that great tall-crowned hatwith its broad, slouching brim, and have a little cane instead of thatlong pole he carries in his hand, he would be quite a pretty man, --don'tyou think so, father?"

"Well, really I don't know how he might look were he thus transformed, "answered Col. Malcome. "I only expressed my opinion of his presentappearance. "

"Don't you know who he is?" asked Edith. 

"No, " said her father, returning to his seat. 

"Well, I wish you would try and learn his name, " pursued the fair girl. 

"What for?" asked Col. M. , resuming the perusal of the volume he had leftto obey her summons to the window. 

"Because I would like to know it, " returned she. "I fancy he is somerelation of that pale Dilly Danforth's, for he has just such mournfuleyes. "

"I do not wish to see them then, " said her father, with some impatienceof manner, "for I don't like the expression of that woman's eyes. "

"They are very sad, " said Edith, "but sorrow has made them so. I thinkthey were once very beautiful. But won't you learn this strange man'sname? Perhaps he is very poor, and we could alleviate his wants by kindcharities. "

"No, " answered Col. M. In a tone which dismissed the subject; "I cannotrun about the country to hunt up old stragglers for you to bestow almsupon. "

Edith looked on her father's stern brow, and, feeling it was useless tourge her plea any longer, stole away to her own apartment, where shefound Sylva engaged in feeding her canaries and furnishing them withfresh water. The little bright creatures were singing sweetly, but Edithdid not heed their songs. She stood apart by a window, and gazed out onthe falling snowflakes. At length she saw Rufus enter the yard, and soonheard him ascending the stairs. "Where have you been, brother?" sheasked, as he came in, his face reddened by exposure to the cold, bitingatmosphere. 

"Down on the river, skating with some of the village boys, " answered he, drawing a chair close to the glowing fire; "and O, such a fine time as wehad! I shall be glad when we go to school, Edith; it will be so much morelively and pleasant. "

"I shall be glad when the snow is gone, so I can run out doors, and sowmy flower-beds, " returned Edith, thoughtfully. Then she sat gazing in thefire a long time, as was always her wont when thinking deeply on anysubject. Sylva had finished her care of the birds, and brought forth Fidofrom his little cot-bed in her room. He sprang into Edith's lap, theninto Rufus', kissing their cheeks and evincing his joy at beholding themin various pleasing, expressive ways. But Edith pushed him away and toldSylva to put him to bed again. So the brisk little fellow was carriedoff, looking very sorry, and wailing piteously, as if he pleadedpermission to remain by the warm fire. 

Rufus was younger than his sister, and of an intelligence and refinementso far below hers, that she seldom evinced much pleasure or enjoyment inhis society, but she looked towards him now with an eager expression ofinterest, as he said, "O, Edith, I saw the funniest man this morning!"

"Where?" she asked quickly. 

"Down by the side of the river among a clump of brushwood, gatheringlittle bundles of sticks. Charlie Seaton and I spoke to him, but he didnot answer us. "

"Did he wear a long overcoat with small capes on the shoulders, and aslouching-brimmed hat?" inquired Edith earnestly. 

"Yes, " said Rufus. "Have you seen him, then?"

"Passing along in the street, " returned she. "Did Charlie know his name?"

"No; but he said it was a man who lived alone in a small hut, far off inthe forest, made of the boughs and branches of cedar trees, curiouslytwisted together; and he is thence styled the _Hermit of the Cedars_. "

"A hermit!" exclaimed Edith. "I have read of such beings in old books, but I never supposed they really existed, or at least never expected Ishould see one with my own eyes. I shall like this place better thanever, now; it will be so romantic to have a hermit in our vicinity. Whatdo you suppose he was going to do with his bundles of sticks, Rufus?"

"Use them for firewood, probably, " said he. 

"But I should have thought he might have obtained that in the forestwhere he lives, and not been obliged to travel all the way down here, this stormy day, to pick up wood from among the snow, and then carry ittwo or three miles in his arms, " said Edith, in a ruminating tone. 

"O, hermits are strange beings, sis!" answered Rufus, whistling a vacanttune as he stood before the window gazing forth on the dismal storm whichdebarred him from his accustomed diversion of skating on the frozensurface of the river. 

While his children were occupied with the preceding conversation, Col. Malcome had donned his fur-lined overcoat and stepped across the yard toDeacon Allen's cottage. The good people were quite embarrassed to beholdso smart a visitor in their unostentatious little parlor, but thecolonel, by his gentlemanly grace, soon placed them at their ease. Aftera few moments' conversation on general topics, he asked, casually enough, who was the owner of the fine mansion he had noticed in his rambles abouttown, with the appellation "Summer Home" sculptured on its marblegateway?

"O, that is Major Tom Howard's!" answered Deacon Allen. "His family havemade it their abode for six or eight months every season since they ownedit; and I understand, after their next return, it is to become theirpermanent residence. "

"'Tis a delightful location, " remarked Colonel M. ; "a very large mansion. Has Mr. Howard a family corresponding with its dimensions?"

"O, no, only a wife and one child--a beautiful girl. "

"How old is his daughter?" inquired the colonel. 

"Well, about fourteen I should say; but seems much older from her maturedgrowth and manners. "

"Has Mr. Howard no sister living with him?" asked the visitor, carelessly. 

"No, " answered the deacon. 

"And has he not lost one?"

"Not since he came among us; though his wife, I have understood, alwaysdresses in black. She is a confirmed invalid and seldom seen. "

"Then the family do not mingle much in society?" said the colonel. 

The deacon shook his head. 

"Somewhat aristocratic, probably, " remarked the visitor. 

"I should judge so, " said the deacon. "They don't send Florence toschool, but keep three tutors for her at home. She is very accomplished, but rather wilful and proud, they say. "

"The effect of over-indulgence, perhaps, " said the colonel, rising. 

"Will you not honor us with another call?" asked Mrs. Allen. 

"With pleasure, " answered he, bowing a graceful good-morning to hisdelighted entertainers. 

 CHAPTER IX. 

 "A vestal priestess, proudly pure But of a meek and quiet spirit; With soul all dauntless to endure And mood so calm that naught can stir it, Save when a thought most deeply thrilling Her eyes with gentlest tears is filling, Which seem with her true words to start From the deep fountain of her heart. "

The fine parlors of Mr. Leroy Edson's tasteful mansion were brilliantlyilluminated. Warm fires glowed in the shining marble grates. Dim argandlamps bathed in soft light the rich furniture, carved cornices, and rarestatuary which decorated the mantels. The élite of Wimbledon wereassembling, and young Mrs. Edson moved lightly to and fro, receiving hernumerous guests with graceful self-possession, and welcoming them to herhome and heart with warm, earnest cordiality. They were nearly allstrangers to her, as she had been but a few months installed mistress ofMr. Edson's splendid mansion; but she felt they were the people amongwhom she was henceforth to live and find her associates and friends. Shehad made one call, only, since her arrival in Wimbledon, and that on Col. Malcome's family, who were later comers than herself. 

Louise Edson was graceful, brilliant, beautiful. O, what a wealth ofthought and intellect was hers; what a broad, generous nature; whatlightning-like perceptions, quick, far-seeing judgment, sparkling humorand sarcastic wit! She floated in a sea of exuberant life and beauty, which was fed continually from the exhaustless fountains of her ownthought-wealthy soul. Her calm, clear eyes mirrored the bright fanciesthat flitted through her brain. The chestnut hair, brushed away from theyouthful brow, revealed the tiny blue veins on the white expandingtemples; while the high, straight nose and curved nostrils, with thesweet little mouth and tapering chin that smiled below, made up a facewhose regular features were its least claim to beauty. It was the soulwithin which shone over these features and lighted them at times withsupernatural loveliness. And was this brilliant being understood andappreciated by the man who had won her for his bride? Faugh!--we blush atour own stupidity in asking the question. Are such lofty souls everappreciated by even one of the swarming masses that people the earth withtheir corporeal bodies? Let those answer who can. 

But Louise, soaring as was her nature, was yet cursed with that weaknesswhich too often possesses souls like hers, swaying e'en a more tyrantsceptre than in meaner breasts, as though in envious hate of thosesky-aspiring pinions, and a demon wish to make them lick the dust. Shewas an orphan, with no relative save a maiden aunt, with whom she dwelt. She felt alone in the wide world, and she wanted--O, pity her, reader, ifyou can!--she wanted somebody to lean on, somebody to look up to. Couldshe not lean on her own strong intellect, and look up to the stars?--orcould she not breathe forth her rich-laden soul in lofty song andromance, and lean upon the pillars of a world-wide fame? No, O, no! Withall her strength of soul and intellect, she had weak woman's heart. Shemust love and be loved; and when the wealthy Mr. Leroy Edson knelt, anenamored knight, at the shrine of her youth and beauty, she gave him herhand. He thought he had done a most generous deed in thus raising a poor, lone orphan girl from comparative obscurity to a position among thehighest circles of society. Her superior education and gem-freighted soulwere all the fortune she brought him; a fortune greater than thetreasures of Ind. , but of whose princely value he had not the power toform the most distant estimate. To behold her tall, graceful figureflitting through his elegant mansion, performing some light householdduty, receiving her guests or chatting and singing gayly through the longevenings, was, to him, life's whole of happiness. And was Louisealtogether content with the man of her choice? No, or she had notgathered Wimbledon about her to make merry the midnight hour. People donot give fêtes to display their happiness. They give them too often torelieve a tedious monotony, to silence a gnawing discontent, and forgetfor the moment in hilarious excitement some uneasy foreboding of evil tocome, or disquieting conviction that all, even now, is not as it shouldbe. 

Louise had not been many weeks Mrs. Edson, before she discovered the manshe had taken for "better or worse" till death should separate them, wasno helpmeet for her. They had not a thought or sympathy in common. Hehired servants to execute her commands; bought her fine clothes, and finebooks too, when he found these latter most delighted her; but he neverwished to hear her read from them, and invariably yawned if she spoke ofliterary subjects. He was good-natured and fond of display, with a fairestimate of his own importance and standing in society. He regardedhimself as one of the pillars of Wimbledon's wealth andprosperity;--remove him, and the whole structure would tremble andperhaps go down with a crash to rise no more. It took but a brief timefor Louise to read her husband's soul through and through; and with hersharp, critical nature, that could not understand and would not overlookfaults and follies to which her bosom was a stranger, she decided she had_married a fool_. What was to be done? The act was voluntary on herpart. True, a longer acquaintance between the parties might have led toa different result, but it was too late to think of that now. And thiswas the end of all her heart-longings for some one to love andreverence, to lean on and look up to! O, how intense was her agony! Allher fine feelings wasted, her soul's wealth poured idly forth, and herrich life in its blooming years given to one who could not understandone of her lofty dreams or soaring aspirations. A falcon with sun-daringeyes tied to a grovelling buzzard! Was't not a hard fate, reader? Pityher, all ye who can, --pity her a great deal; mourn over her cruel wreckof happiness; and if in future years the warm, impassioned nature, goaded by its own unuttered pangs, driven wild by its rayless, hopelessdesolation, is guilty of some irregularities, some acts which virtue andpropriety can hardly sanction, O, remember her early sufferings, and bemerciful!

Mr. Edson's party passed off pleasantly. All seemed delighted with theirentertainment. The lord of the mansion was in great good-humor, and hisbeautiful wife the star of the evening. In a simple robe of dark bluecashmere, which fastened low over her white, sloping shoulders, andfitted closely her slender waist, while the ample folds swept the richtapestry carpets, she moved among her guests like the embodiment of agraceful thought. Her luxuriant brown hair was gathered in bands at theback of her head; a massive chain and cross of gold ornamented herswan-like neck, and bands of the same material clasped her round, whitearms. Small wonder that Mr. Edson should feel proud of his wife. Thewhole evening she was the centre of a delighted group. All flocked aroundto hear her brilliant conversation and gaze on her animated, expressivefeatures. Col. Malcome and the gentle Edith engaged a large share of herattention and regard. The young girl was insensibly attracted by theaffectionate interest evinced in her manner, and the sweet voice andbeaming smile with which she addressed her. Col. Malcome expressed hisadmiration of the exquisite taste displayed in the furnishing of herparlors. 

"I cannot tell you, Mrs. Edson, " said he, "what I most admire in yourelegant drawing-rooms. They are one harmonious whole; but if you wereremoved, I think I would very soon discover what was wanting to renderthem complete. "

"Now, " said Louise, "let me tell you at the commencement of ouracquaintance, which I hope for my humble sake may continue to becultivated, that I detest flattery of all things;" and she turned asmiling glance on him, as these piquant words fell from her pretty, redlips, rendered more than usually charming by the slight sarcastic curlshe gave them. 

"So do I, " returned he; "but truth is not flattery. "

"In the language of the poet, " said she, laughing, "I will not seek tocope with you in compliment. Do you know I feel a lively interest in yourbeautiful daughter?"

"I am gratified to know it, " said he, glancing on the bright creature athis side with an expressive glance. "Edith is a timid little thing; shewould improve under your accomplished tuition. Not that I have thepresumption to ask for her your care and instructions beyond what shemight receive by a neighborly interchange of visits. "

"O, say she may spend a portion of every week with me, when spring opensand the earth is divested of its garb of snow!" said Louise, in a tone ofaffectionate eagerness. "You cannot tell how her innocent gayety wouldlighten many of my weary hours. "

Col. Malcome started as he heard these words, and turned a searchingglance upon her. A slight blush suffused her cheek for a moment, but shesoon regained her self-possession. It was one of her faults to give toofree, unrestrained expression to her thoughts. They came welling up toher lips, and escaped ere she was aware. 

For several moments he continued to gaze on her, and there was somethingin his countenance that instantly revealed to her quick eye that he hadnot only believed in the weariness she had so thoughtlessly expressed, but had also fathomed its cause. She felt displeased and irritated at herown want of caution and what she silently termed his presumption. 

"Why do you look on me so strangely?" she asked at length. 

"I beg your pardon, madam, " said he, suddenly averting his gaze. 

"Which I shall not give, " returned she, with a slight, dignified movementof her queenly head, "unless you tell me what you think of me. "

"_All_ I think of you, Mrs. Edson, " said he, turning his face againtoward hers, "perhaps would not please you to know. "

"Yes, all, " said Louise, "I will know all. "

"Well, this is not the time or place for the disclosure, " answered he. 

She looked at him sharply as he pronounced these words. He smiled andadded, "I should be monopolizing the time which belongs to your company. "

"Ay, yes!" said she, "your words recall the duty I owe to mycondescending guests;" and, bowing, she glided away and joined a companythat surrounded the piano. 

"You play, of course, Mrs. Edson, " said a portly man with a benevolentcountenance. 

"Occasionally, though I have rather a dull ear, " she answered, assumingthe music-stool. Several light songs were performed with fine taste andskill, and received the warmest encomiums of her listeners. Another andanother was called for, till at length she arose and said, "There aredoubtless others here who play far better than myself. I have led theway, let them follow. "

Col. Malcome arose from a sofa near by, on which he had thrown himself tolisten to the fair musician, and assumed the seat she had vacated. A fewprolonged notes, and then one of the most beautiful and intricatecompositions of Beethoven, poured its sonorous strains on the ears of theassembly. The performer at length seemed to forget all around him, and atthe end of the second chorus joined his own deep, rich tones with theinstrument. All were delighted; but Louise, with her quick sensibilities, was thrilled to the centre of her soul. And she felt piqued and angrytoo; not that he had excelled her, for she was above such small envy, but----she could not tell why. 

The party dispersed, and she found herself again in the solitude of herown apartment. That swelling chorus rolled through her midnight dreams, and echoed in her ears for many a day, as she superintended her domesticaffairs, or sat down to the perusal of some treasured volume. 

 CHAPTER X. 

 "I tell thee, husband, 'tis a goodly thing, To get a daughter married off your hands, And know she's found an easy-tempered mate; For many men there be in this rude world. Who do most shockingly abuse their wives; But of their number is not this mild youth Who takes our daughter for his wedded bride. "

Young Mrs. Edson's party was a three days' wonder. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, inasmuch as she was excluded from being one of the guests, availedherself of the next choicest privilege, and learned, as far as she wasable, the dresses and conversation of those in attendance; and how Mrs. E. Comported herself, and what she cooked for supper. She was shocked tolearn the young wife wore a low-necked dress, and set her down at once asa low, vulgar woman, in whose company she should consider it a disgraceto be seen. Mrs. Pimble said another milk-sop had come among them to fawnand giggle in the face of the oppressor, man. 

The Edson fête seemed to pave the way for others, and the winter seasonpassed gayly and pleasantly among the wealthier classes of Wimbledon. Col. Malcome, his daughter, and Rufus, were present at all the socialgatherings; and, in fact, the colonel's was getting to be a familiar andwelcome face at almost every door in the village. He even called on Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, one day, and addressed several civil speeches to theinteresting Mary Madeline, who blushed crimson beneath the glance of his_unresistible_ eyes, as she termed them, and trembled like an aspen, inher red silk gown. We do not know that we have ever spoken of thepersonal charms of this blooming young lady, and we will now attempt abrief daguerreotype for the reader's enlightenment and edification. 

Her hair was of that peculiarly brilliant color noticed in thatdelightful esculent vegetable, the carrot, when boiled and prepared fortable. She wore it twisted in a hard, horny knob at the top of her head, which strained her blue-green eyes, and gave them the expression of thoseof a choked grimalkin. Her nose turned divinely upwards; her blubber lipsturned downwards with a grievous, watery expression. Her cheeks were red;so was her nose; so were her eyes at times, when the horny knob took aharder twist than usual. She had small, hairy ears, ornamented withenormous jewels. Her neck was short, and three stubborn warts, of thesize of peas, stuck to its left side. Her waist might have been admiredin the fifteenth century; but it was some nine inches too short by asmany too broad, to elicit the admiration of the gallants of the presentage, who rave, and go distracted about gossamer divinities scarcely sixinches in circumference. She was about four feet four in stature, and herfoot would have crushed Cinderella, and used her slipper for a thumb-cot. Such was Mary Madeline Mumbles in her eighteenth year, and never waschild more like parent, than was this young lady like her doting, affectionate mamma. 

We have been at considerable trouble to sketch Miss Mumbles at fulllength, that the reader may be able to form a correct idea of herappearance when she steps forth in full glory of silken bridal attire, onthe arm of Mr. Theophilus Shaw, the promising young shoe-cobbler, uponwhom Mr. Salsify had long since set his heart, as the proper man tobecome his future son-in-law. And Miss Mary, who lost her passion forDick Giblet, after he shut the watch-dog in the kitchen-pantry, --a trickwhich had nearly cost her the loss of a beloved mother, --and finding shecould not captivate the handsome Colonel Malcome with checkered apronsand broad lace, began, like a dutiful child, to receive the advances ofthe mild Theophilus more graciously, and had, after much maidenlyconfusion, consented to become his wife, when, as we have seen, theuncompromising colonel called, and distracted her with fear lest she hadbeen too precipitate in accepting Theophilus, when a higher prize mightbe on the point of falling into her arms. But her apprehensions werebanished after a while, as the colonel did not appear a second time, andthe marriage was finally consummated; and Mary Madeline Mumbles became indue form Mrs. Theophilus Shaw. Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton officiated asbridesmaids, and a large party were invited to make merry on theoccasion. 

The bride's apparel was magnificent; so was the bridegroom's. We wouldattempt to describe it in detail, but dare not, knowing well we shouldfail to do it justice. Mrs. Salsify had the wicks of her parlor lampsfull half an inch in length, and never seemed to notice how swiftly thecamphene was disappearing, so elate was she with the prospect of marryingher beautiful daughter. 

The happy couple were to make a short bridal excursion, and then returnand dwell under the bride's parental roof for the present; Mrs. Salsifyhaving vacated her bed-room, which the young people were going to use forkitchen, parlor, and shoemaker's shop. And a little pasteboard sign withthe words, "Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker, " scrawled on it withlampblack, in an awkward, school-boy hand, was suspended by a string fromthe bed-room window. 

"I am glad to have Mary Madeline settled in life, " said Mrs. Mumbles, after the arrangements were all complete; "and the matter off my mind. "

"So am I, " answered her husband; "and I am glad she has made so good amatch, too. Mr. Shaw will make a much better husband than Dick Giblet, orthat black-headed Col. Malcome. "

"O, a better one than that scapegrace of a Dick, of course!" said Mrs. Salsify, quickly; "but as to a better one than the colonel, I don't knowabout that. The advantages of his position are very great. Maddie wouldhave been the tip-top of Wimbledon if she had married him. "

"So she will be now, in time, " returned Mr. S. , confidently, "for I am'rising rapidly in my profession. ' Next summer I shall build the piazzaand second story, and in ten years I'd like to see the man that can holdhis head above Mr. Salsify Mumbles. "

At these hopeful words, the wife fondly embraced her husband, and theloving couple fell to forming plans and projects for their brilliantfuture. 

 CHAPTER XI. 

 And yet this wild woods' man was happy once, -- Bright fame did offer him her richest dower, But disappointment blasted all his hopes, And crushed him 'neath her desolating power. 

Cold and bleak roared the fierce wintry blasts through the broad, denseforest that stretched away to the north of Wimbledon. The stars sparkledwith unwonted brilliancy over the clear blue firmament, as a quick stepcrackled along the narrow, icy path, and a dark form was seen hurryingtoward a faint light that gleamed dimly through a dense clump of cedars. Then there was a sound as of bars withdrawn, and a bright, blazing hearthwas revealed for a moment as the dark form entered, when all was hushedand silent again, save the dismal roar of the night wind through thesurrounding pines. 

"You are late to-night, uncle, " said a tall, dark-haired youth, as heundid the fastenings of the wanderer's long overcoat, and removed hiswoollen mittens and wide-brimmed hat. 

"What time do you conceive it to be?" asked the man, depositing his longstaff in a corner, and approaching the glowing fire. 

"Past midnight, I would suppose, " answered the boy, piling up a quantityof books that were scattered over a small table, and with which he hadbeen occupying himself through the long evening hours. 

"O, not so late as that!" returned the man, drawing a rude chair beforethe fire and extending his small, thin hands to the grateful blaze. "Thevillage clock in the old church tower at Wimbledon was on the stroke often when I laid my bundle of sticks in their accustomed place, and set myface homewards. I must have travelled at a laggard pace, if it is alreadymidnight. Are you lonesome when I'm away, Edgar?" inquired he, turninghis deep, melancholy eyes on the fair, open countenance of the youth. 

"Sometimes I am, " returned he; "I have been so to-night. A strange powerseemed to possess my thoughts, to lead them through most hideous scenes, and dark, awful glooms and shadows enveloped my soul in mazes of doubtand fear. "

"What a nervous boy you are!" said the man, "come and sit beside me, andI'll tell you of a project I've been revolving in my mind these severaldays. " Edgar did as requested, and after a brief silence the hermitcommenced:

"These six months, my lad, you have dwelt in this little hut in theforest, holding intercourse with no human being save myself. It is notright your boyhood and youth should pass in this manner. I have beenselfish in keeping you all to myself, to cheer my solitude. 'Twas yourparents' dying wish that you should receive all the advantages ofeducation and travel. Your life has been, for the most part, spent in thetoil of study, and I knew you needed an interval of relaxation andretirement to reïnvigorate your mental and physical energies. So Ibrought you to share the seclusion of my hermitage for a while. Gratefulas has been your presence to me, I should wrong you, and forfeit thepromise given your parents on their deathbeds, if I encouraged orpermitted this retirement for a longer period than is necessary for yourrestoration to health and vigor. You know I am your guardian, Edgar. Thefortune left for you by your father was entrusted to my care till youshould attain a suitable age to have it transferred to your own hands, and ample provisions were made for your education and instruction in thepainter's art. Do you see what I am coming at, Edgar?" he added, pausingin his discourse, and directing his gaze toward the boy, who satlistening attentively to his uncle's words. 

"No, Uncle Ralph, " answered the lad; "I don't know as I do, unless youare going to send me away from you to some distant school;" and his voicetrembled as he spoke. 

"Would you dislike to leave me, my boy?" said the hermit, a tear droppingfrom his melancholy eye. 

"Ah, that would I!" returned Edgar, "for I have none to care for me inthe wide world, save you. "

"Pshaw, pshaw, boy! don't prate in that way, with your bright, curlylocks, " said the man, laying his thin hand softly on the youth's light, clustering hair. "When these locks are gray, and you have toiled andlabored for fame and honors never gained, or that burned and furrowed thebrow that wore them; when you have engaged in the world's weary strifeand sunk by the wayside worn and disheartened by the contest; whenfriends have proved false;"--here the hermit's voice grew deeper and morevehement--"and when those who professed for you the fondest love turncoldly away to mock and scorn at your deep devotion, then, then, my boy, you will exclaim in bitterness, 'there are none to care for me!'"

He paused, and bowed his face on his hands. Edgar longed to comfort him, but knew not what to say. 

The night wind roared solemnly without, the fire burned low on the rudehearth, and the little apartment, but illy protected from the searchingblasts, grew chilly. Still the hermit sat silent, his bowed head restingbetween his small, attenuated hands. Edgar rose, brought the longovercoat and spread it over his shoulders, as a protection from theincreasing cold. Then wrapping a blanket around his own light form, hestole softly to the window, and turned his gaze upward to thestar-lighted heaven. He dearly loved to sit thus through the hushedmidnight hours, and listen to the deep, heavy roaring of the mightywinds, as they swept through the surrounding forest, while his soulseemed borne away on their rushing currents, up and upward till herpinions brushed the starry palaces of angels and beatified spirits; andon, and on, with new splendors ever bursting on her ravished vision, tillthe elysium of light in the high heaven of heavens poured its bewilderingglories upon her, and her weary wings fluttered to rest at last upon thebosom of the All-Holy. 

Edgar was possessed of a temperament of the most imaginative order, deeply imbued with lofty, poetic sentiment, and a tendency to reserve andmelancholy. His father had been an artist, and the sunny skies of Italycast their bright glory over his tender years, warming to impassionedardor the springs and fountains of his youthful bosom. Very few boys ofhis age and acquirements could have endured the seclusion in which he haddwelt for the last six months; but nothing could have been more consonantwith the reserved, romantic disposition of Edgar; and the prospect ofleaving the wild hut in the forest to go forth among the wide world'sjostling crowds, caused him heart-throbbing pangs. 

After a long silence the hermit roused himself. The room was cold anddark. 

"Edgar?" said he, in a low, broken voice. 

"I am here, " answered the youth, rising, and feeling his way through thedarkness to his uncle's side, "Won't you lie down now? The room is socold, and there is no wood within to replenish the fire. "

"Yes, my boy, I will lie down, " said the hermit, "but not to sleep; theghosts of past joys are with me to-night. "

"Drive them away, uncle!" said the lad soothingly. "I am not disposed tosleep either. Let us lie down and cover us warm, and then you tell me ofyour plans and projects for my future, as you had commenced to do a fewhours ago. "

"No, Edgar, not to-night, " answered the recluse. "Your young eyes willwax heavy with these midnight vigils. You must sleep, my boy, andto-morrow I will communicate my plans concerning you. "

"As you say, uncle, " returned Edgar, preparing to lie down. 

Young, and happily ignorant of the cares and sorrows that distract thebosoms of maturer years, he was soon asleep. 

The hermit moved to the window, and, after gazing forth some time insilence, murmured, "Wild, wild is the night! Heaven send she does notsuffer. I left two bundles on her lonely sill, though my fingers grewstiff with cold ere I had gathered them. Thus do I feebly endeavor toatone for past misconduct. How the wind roars through the pines! O, whatmemories of long ago rush o'er my soul! I think of Mary as the timeapproaches when she will be near me. Shall I see her face again? Godforbid!" exclaimed he, stamping his foot violently upon the stone floor. After a while he resumed his low soliloquy. "I fear for Edgar, " he said, "lest the cold world chill his heart and undo his usefulness, as it hasmine. He has my temperament, reserved, sensitive, and with the sameaccursed capacity for strong, undying attachment. What a fair prospect offame had I! What honors were ready to crown me when that monster came andblasted them all! Such do I fear will be Edgar's fate. But he must goforth into the world; such was the wish of his parents. I can keep himnear me a few months longer by sending him to the Wimbledon seminary, erehe must depart for some distant university or school of art. Then thegreat world will have opened before him, and I shall see him no more. "The hermit suddenly ceased. Tears choked his utterance. 

"Uncle!" said Edgar, starting quickly from his slumbers, "will you notcome and lie down?"

"Yes, my boy, " answered the sorrowing man, approaching the rude couch. 

The wintry winds wailed on with piteous, mournful voices; but the_Hermit of the Cedars_ slept at last, "A troubled, dreamy sleep. "

 CHAPTER XII. 

 "Lawyers and doctors at your service. We are better off Without them. True, you are, --but still You follow on their heels, and fawn, And flatter in their faces. If you Would leave your brawls and fights which Call for physic, very soon you'd be Beyond their greedy clutches. "

 OLD PLAY. 

Reader, do you wonder where's the doctor whose saddle-bags may besupposed to contain the divers specifics for the "ills" which the "flesh"of Wimbledon is liable to become heir to? He doth exist, and, whenoccasion calls, we'll trot him forth. 

And do you say this same Wimbledon has never a lawyer within itsprecincts, --and whoever heard of a village of several hundred inhabitantswithout at least half-a-dozen of these learned disciples of Blackstone tosettle its wrongs and right its abuses?

Permit us to inform you, friend, that we consider lawyers dangerousanimals; and the less men and women have to do with them, the better!

Nevertheless, there is one o' the craft in Wimbledon; and, if you had notbeen blind as a bat, you would have discovered, ere this, the sign of"Peter Paul Pimble, Esq. , Attorney-at-Law, " hung over the door of asmall, black building in Mudget square. True, Mr. Pimble don't practisehis profession much, for a very good reason; nobody is in want of hisservices; and that's the case with two thirds of the lawyers inChristendom. 

Mrs. Pimble has converted her husband's office into a committee-room, andreceptacle for hoards of pamphlets and papers, containing the proceedingsof divers conventions held for the advancement of the cause of "Woman'sRights, and promulgation of Universal Freedom and Philanthropy. "

Mrs. Pimble, the ardent reformist, is at present detained from her laborsby the illness of her eldest son, Garrison. She has sent for the youngfemale physician, Dr. Sarah Simcoe; but the word is, "pressing businessdetains that medical functionary at home, "--so, in direct violation ofher established principles, she has been compelled to send for old Dr. Potipher, who considers himself, par excellence, the Esculapius ofWimbledon. 

But Peggy Nonce comes blowing back from her hasty errand, and says thedoctor is down to Mr. Moses Simcoe's. Mrs. Pimble wonders what shouldtake a vile male practitioner to the house of an accomplishedlady-physician. Peggy looks wise, as much as to say she could explain themystery if she chose. But no one asks her to speak, so she goes into thekitchen, where Mr. Pimble sits in his dressing-gown and sheepskinslippers, shivering over an expiring fire. He lifts his head, as thebustling housekeeper begins to rattle the covers of the stove for thepurpose of putting in some more wood, and asks feebly if "Dr. Potipherhas arrived. "

"No, " answers Peggy. "He is down to Mr. Simcoe's. "

"Who is sick there?" inquires Mr. Pimble. 

"His wife. "

"Why, she is a doctor herself! Can't she cure her own ailments?" says Mr. Pimble. 

"Not always, I reckon, " is Peggy's reply, while she is evidently vastlyamused by something she does not choose to communicate at present. 

Beside the bed of her sick boy stood Mrs. Pimble. She laid her hand onhis forehead. It burned with fever, and his pulse was quick and hard. Shewas not much skilled in the "art medical, " but she resolved to do_something_ for her child, and forthwith proceeded to the kitchen andcompounded a dish of catnip leaves and ginger. It exhaled a savorysmell, and she felt quite confident it would cool off Garrison's fever. Placing a large bowl of the liquid by his bed-side, she bade him drinkfreely of it through the evening, while she was gone to the Reform Club, and when she came home she would call at Sister Simcoe's and obtain aprescription for him. The sick lad promised to do as she requested. Hisfever inclined him to drink incessantly, and ere his mother was tenyards from the house, he had guzzled the whole brimming bowlful. Andstill he called for drink, drink; which his insensate father carried tohim in copious quantities as often as he desired it. 

Mrs. Pimble proceeded on her way to the club room. For some reason therewas but a thin attendance. None of the prominent members were present, and the little company decided to adjourn. Mrs. Pimble hurried round toMrs. Simcoe's, to learn the cause of her absence and get the prescriptionfor Garrison. The lady-doctor had been lecturing for several months indifferent towns of the county, and was but recently returned. 

Mrs. Pimble entered without knocking, as was her wont, and walked intothe young doctor's office, where she beheld, not the fair, feminine faceof the rightful proprietor, but the ugly, rhubarb-colored visage of thevillage apothecary, Dr. Potipher, ensconced in the high-backed cushionedchair, fast asleep. 

She turned back and opened the sitting-room door, and there stood Mr. Simcoe before a bed, holding a tea-tray, containing several vials andglasses. Mrs. Pimble started on seeing the night-capped head of Mrs. Simcoe raised feebly from the pillow, and darting forward, exclaimed, "Mercy, Sister Simcoe! what has befallen you?"

A smothered wail from beneath the bed-clothes now met her ear, and, turning down the blankets, she discovered two red-faced, bald-headedbabies, wrapped in swaddling-clothes. She started back aghast. 

"What are those things--what are those things?" she demanded, hysterically, pointing to the infant strangers. 

"Simcoe's children!" groaned the pale lady-doctor, turning uneasily awayfrom the little things that lay squirming and making such grimaces, asonly very young babies _can_ make, in the face of Mrs. Pimble. Thealleged father stood there, chuckling over the smartness of his progeny. Mrs. Pimble darted one withering glance upon him, and walked awaywithout another word. She roused old Dr. Potipher, and took him homewith her. Well she did so, for Garrison was much worse than when sheleft him, and the doctor pronounced it a case of brain fever, whichwould require the nicest care and nursing. 

Thus a wet blanket was most audaciously thrown upon the Woman's Rights'Reform, which was fain to arrest its progress in Wimbledon for a while. We shall see how long. 

 CHAPTER XIII. 

 "Thy hands are filled with early flowers, Thy step is on the wind; The innocent and keen delight Of youth is on thy mind; That glad fresh feeling that bestows Itself the gladness which it knows, The pure, the undefined; And thou art in that happy hour Of feeling's uncurbed, early power. "

The spring dawned bright and beautiful over Wimbledon, and when the firstblue-birds sang on the budding boughs, and the grass was springing greenin streets and by-ways, the tenants of "Summer Home" returned; and abright young girl, with dark abundant hair hanging in a rich profusion ofshiny ringlets over her white, uncovered shoulders, was seen skippinglightly through the gardens and grounds, pruning shrubs, transplantingflowers, and training truant vines over arbors and alcoves. 

It was Florence Howard, resplendent in the light of her girlish beauty, and buoyant overflow of health and happiness. Often, in her morningstrolls, she noticed a tall, graceful boy, in a blue frock-coat, with ashining morocco cap placed over a head of light curly hair, passingalong, satchel in hand, to the seminary on the hill, and every night shesaw him disappear within the forest that lay to the northward of herfather's residence. 

She wondered what became of him, for the woods were wide and deep, and itmust be a long way to the other side. There surely could be no habitationwithin their precincts, and Florence's curiosity was strongly excited tofathom the mystery, which in her eyes surrounded the fair-haired youth. 

"Father, " said she one evening, as she sat beside him on the westernterrace, "I don't like being confined herewith these stupid tutors. Iwish you would let me go to school at the seminary. "

"Your advantages at home are far superior, my daughter, " answered herfather. 

"O, but I should like the air and exercise, and the company of childrenof my own age so much, " pursued she, poking her little fingers throughher father's silvered locks, and leaning up against his side in a verycoaxing attitude. "I shall become the saddest mope in the world if I amcooped up here. "

"I apprehend small danger of that, " returned her father, laughing, "foryou have appeared to me, since our last return, a wilder romp than everbefore. "

"O, that's only because I'm so glad to get to this delightful placeagain, and to know we are to go away no more!" said she. "It will wearoff after a while, and I shall become silent and solemn as a nun. Won'tyou let me go to the seminary just one term? I can still take my musiclessons of Mrs. Sayles here at home, and I know my French and Italianmasters would like a respite from their duties. " She stood lookingearnestly in her father's face. 

"You smooth the way very well, my little daughter, " said he, patting herrosy cheek; "but I incline to think you had better continue your studiesin the old way. "

Florence looked disappointed, and turned slowly from his side. Herdejected appearance touched his affectionate heart, and he called herback. She came bounding toward him, with new hope dancing in her darkliquid eyes. 

"If you can obtain your mother's consent, " said he, "I will not object toyour attending school at the seminary one term, as you seem so much todesire it. "

"O, thank you, thank you, dear father!" exclaimed the glad girl, puttingher arms round his neck, and giving him a grateful kiss on either cheek, "and may I commence to-morrow? that is, if mamma consents to my going?"

"To-morrow?" said he, "had you not better wait, as this term is so faradvanced, and commence with a new one?"

"O, no!" returned she, "I should rather begin at once. "

"Well, go in, little Miss Rattle, and see what your sage mamma says onthe subject, " said her father, smiling at her earnest countenance. 

Away went Florence, with the lightness of a bird up the hall stairs, and, giving a light tap at a closed door, stood dancing softly on tip-toe, asshe waited a summons to enter. "Who's there?" asked a low, tremblingvoice at length. 

"Me, mamma, " answered Florence; "may I come in? I've something to askyou. "

The door was opened by a short, thin woman, of dark complexion, smallpeering black eyes, and slick, shining hair of the same hue, which wasarranged with an air of nicety and precision. 

Florence entered and glanced with an expression of alarm toward the drawncurtains of a mahogany bedstead. "Is mother worse?" she asked in a voicebut a breath above a whisper. 

"She has had one of her bleeding spells, " answered the small, dark woman. "Where is your father?"

"On the lower terrace; shall I call him?"

"No, I will go to him, " returned the woman, "if you will remain by yourmother a while. "

"O, yes, I shall be delighted to stay!" said Florence, approaching thecouch. 

"You must not talk to her, " remarked the woman; "she needs to be veryquiet. "

"I won't speak a word unless she asks me to, " answered the young girl, sitting down by the bed-side, as the dark woman disappeared, closing thedoor softly behind her. 

After a few moments' silence the sick woman stirred and parted thecurtains slightly with her wan hand. Florence rose. "Do you wantanything, mother?" she asked. 

"No, my dear, I have been asleep. Where is Hannah?"

"Gone below. I think to send father for Dr. Potipher. "

"I hope not, " said the invalid; "it is not necessary. This is only one ofmy common attacks. I shall be as well as usual in a few days. "

"Do you think so, mother?" asked Florence, brightening. "I feared youwere very ill. I had something particular to say, but I was not going tosay it, for fear of hurting you. "

"What is it, dear?" inquired the mother. 

"Something papa and I have been talking about down on the piazzato-night. "

"Well, " said the sick woman, looking affectionately on the earnestexpression and downcast lids of Florence's large hazel eyes. 

"I asked him to let me go to the seminary this term, and he said if youhad no objection I might do so, " said the hesitating girl, at length, with a long-drawn breath, as though she had relieved her bosom of a heavyburden. 

The pale lady was silent a few moments, as if revolving the matter in hermind. Then she spoke suddenly. "You said your father had no objection?"

"Yes, " answered Florence. 

"Then, of course, I have none, " said the woman, turning over on herpillow and settling herself as if to sleep again. 

Florence was about to pour forth her gratitude for the favor shown herrequest, when the dark-browed woman entered, shook her finger at her, andbade her go below. Florence's eyes flashed back her answer. 

"I'll go at my mother's request, not otherwise, " said she. 

A dark frown gathered on the woman's features, and the invalid saidtremblingly, "I would like to sleep; perhaps you had better go and staywith your father a while, my dear. "

Florence kissed the pale brow, and then moved toward the door withnoiseless tread. The dark woman cast a glance of angry triumph upon her, which was returned by one of fearless defiance. 

Since Florence's earliest recollection her mother had been an invalid, shunning society and subject to long fits of depression, and, upon theslightest excitement, to severe attacks of palpitation and bleeding fromthe chest, which frequently prostrated her on a bed of suffering forweeks. Hannah Doliver had always been her attendant, though Florence, inthe simplicity of her young heart, often wondered that her parents shouldretain her in their service; for she was a bold, impudent, violent-tempered woman, who set up her will for law in the household, andseemed to exercise an almost tyrannic sway over the weak invalid, whoappeared to stand in awe of her slightest nod. She showed a markeddislike for Florence, and delighted in tantalizing her, when she was alittle child, and thwarting her wishes. As the fair girl grew older, sheresolved the arbitrary woman should not govern or intimidate her, and metall her attempts at petty tyranny with a bold, undaunted spirit, whichseemed to increase the woman's hatred. Florence once asked her father whyhe did not send Hannah Doliver away. 

"Your mother could not do without her, my child, " said he. 

"I think she could do better without her than with her, " returnedFlorence, "for she is cross to mamma, and makes her do everything just asshe says. "

"O, no, I guess not, " said her father. 

"But she does, " persisted Florence, "and I would not have her in thehouse. " Major Howard patted his little daughter's cheek and said, "Whenyou are older, Florence, you will understand a great many things thatseem dark and mysterious to you now. "

Florence was not satisfied, but she turned away, and never mentioned thesubject to her father again. 

Early the next morning the glad-hearted girl was astir, getting inreadiness for school. She gathered her books together and placed them ina satchel of crimson broadcloth, which she had just embroidered, withbright German wools, in wreaths of spotted daisies and wild columbines. Then donning a blue muslin frock, dotted over with small silver stars, and tying on a black silk apron with open velvet pockets, from one ofwhich peeped a snowy lace-edged handkerchief, she took satchel, glovesand gypsy hat, and descended to the parlor, ensconcing herself in a nookof the north window, where she stood gazing over the hill-tops toward thedistant forest with eager eyes to behold the fair-haired boy emerge fromits recesses. 

At length he appeared, and she watched him till he was descending thehill which sloped past her father's mansion. Then, hastily tying on herhat and seizing her satchel, she was hurrying through the hall to gainthe street, when she encountered Hannah Doliver. 

"Where are you going?" demanded she in a sharp tone. 

"To school, " answered Florence, rushing past her. 

"By whose leave, I wonder?" said the woman, running after her, to dragher back. But the nimble-footed girl was too swift for her, and shereturned to the house muttering angrily to herself. Meantime, Florencebounded over the gravelled walks, and was emerging from the gateway justas the lad, in the morocco cap, was passing by. He arrested his steps onbeholding her, and bowed gracefully. She returned his salute, and said, blushingly, "I am going to school up to the seminary. May I walk withyou?"

"Certainly, Miss Howard, " answered he; "I shall be grateful for yourcompany. "

"You know my name, " said she, advancing to his side; "I am ignorant ofyours. "

"Edgar Lindenwood, " returned he, and the two walked on together. 

 CHAPTER XIV. 

 ----"She has dark violet eyes, A voice as soft as moonlight. On her cheek The blushing blood miraculous doth range From sea-shell pink to sunset. When she speaks Her soul is shining through her earnest face As shines a moon through its up-swathing cloud. My tongue's a very beggar in her praise, It cannot gild her gold with all its words. "

 ALEXANDER SMITH. 

There was a neat, little vine-covered cottage standing a few doorsremoved from the elegant mansion of Leroy Edson, and in it dwelt Mrs. Stanhope, a widow lady and her maiden sister, Miss Martha Pinkerton, a female of uncertain age, as authors say, and possessed of thepeculiarities common to persons of her class. They were not poor, norwere they rich, but made a good living, as the world goes, by taking inneedlework. Young Mrs. Edson frequently dropped in to pass an hour insocial converse with Mrs. Stanhope, who was a pleasant, agreeable woman. Miss Martha, too, always wore a smile on her sharp-featured face whenthe lovely young wife appeared at the cottage. As they were simple, unostentatious people, living in a retired and quiet way, she laid asideall form and ceremony, and was accustomed to run in at any hour, inwhatever garb she chanced to be. 

On a bright May morning, as the ladies had made all things tidy, and wereseating themselves to their daily avocation of the needle, they heardthe garden gate swing, and beheld Mrs. Edson approaching in her littlewhite sun-bonnet and spotted muslin dressing-gown, open from the waistdownwards, revealing a fine cambric skirt, wrought in several rows ofvines and deep scolloped edges. Mrs. Stanhope met her visitor on theporch. 

"Good-morning, " said she, extending her hand; "I am happy to seeyou:--how beautiful and eloquent you are looking!"

"O, this glorious, sweet-breathed morning, with its birds and flowers, is enough to brighten the most torpid thing into animation!" exclaimedLouise, grasping her friend's hand warmly. "You don't know how I loveeverything and everybody to-day, Mrs. Stanhope, " she continued, in atone of earnest enthusiasm, as she entered the little parlor, stillholding the good woman by one hand, while she extended the other toMiss Pinkerton, who rose from her work to receive her, and drew anold-fashioned, straight-backed rocking-chair, cushioned and lined withgay copperplate, up before the window for her comfort. "I must not sitlong, " said Louise, assuming the proffered seat, "for I have left myhouse quite alone; the servants having gone out on errands forthemselves. I tried one thing and another to divert myself, but thebirds sang so sweetly, the sun was so bright, and everything seemed tosay, up and away. So I donned my sun-bonnet and ran over here as thenicest, quietest little nook I could fly to; and where I should be aswelcome in my morning-gown as in full dress of ruffles and satins. "

"And even more so, if possible, " answered Mrs. Stanhope; "simple peoplelike us are always a good deal put out and embarrassed by grandeur anddisplay. It has something awful and unapproachable in our eyes. "

"It has something servile and contemptible in mine, " said Louise; "Ialways shrink from a woman flaunted out in rustling silks, great, glaring rings on her fingers, and alarming jewels swinging likeponderous pendulums from her ears. I think what a poor, little, pinched, narrow-contracted, poverty-stricken soul is there, that seeks to atonefor the lack within, by rigging her poor body out like a veritable queenof harlots. "

Mrs. Stanhope and Miss Martha burst into a cordial fit of laughter, asLouise, with a good deal of spirit and sarcasm, delivered herself of thepreceding speech; and, before their merriment had subsided, a knock washeard at the inner door, and Col. Malcome stepped in, bowing gracefully, with a pleasant "Good-morning" to the three ladies. Mrs. Stanhope roseand offered him a chair. Depositing a large package he held in his armson a corner of the sofa, he sat down. 

Mrs. Edson blushed. She thought it was at being caught from home indishabille by a gentleman of the colonel's etiquette and high breeding. After a few casual remarks upon the beauty of the morning, he turned hisdiscourse to her, and remarked:

"I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Edson; we are getting to be quite strangersof late. Edith is lamenting that you do not honor us with more frequentvisits. "

"I have often wished to call on your family, Col. Malcome, " returnedLouise, in a calm, clear voice; "but since your daughter commencedattending school, have desisted, lest I might inconvenience her. "

"Edith does not go to the seminary after two o'clock, " said he; "herevenings are quite unemployed, and she would be highly gratified toreceive a call from you. "

"I shall be pleased to call on her, and also to receive more frequentvisits from her. She has less to confine her at home than I; so hervisits should outnumber mine. "

"Ay, yes; you speak sensibly, Mrs. Edson, " returned he; "you have morecalls on your time than Edith. Strange I can never remember you are amarried woman. "

"It would be well for you to remember it, " said Louise, with a dignifiedcurve of her graceful neck, and slight addition of color, which very muchheightened her beauty. 

"Mrs. Edson is so youthful in appearance, " remarked Mrs. Stanhope, "Ithink she might excuse one for forgetting she is a matron. "

"I'll excuse you, Mrs. Stanhope, " said Louise, rising; "I don't want tobe anything to you, but your little girl, and to run in here just when Ihave a mind to, and to have you chide me when I do wrong, and love mealways, whether right or wrong. So good-morning, " and, curtseyinggracefully, she glided from the room and retraced her steps to her ownmansion. 

There was a silence of several minutes after she left, during which Col. Malcome recollected his package, and, placing it on the table, politelyinquired if the ladies could oblige him by sewing a quantity of linen, ofwhich he should be in need in course of a few weeks, as he meditatedgoing a journey. They would be very willing to do it for him, could theyget it in readiness by the time he would want it; but they had a greatdeal of unfinished work on their hands. Miss Pinkerton was confident theycould accomplish the colonel's, however. 

"I am doubtful, Martha, " said Mrs. Stanhope; "you know the large bundleMrs. Howard's waiting-woman brought in, last night. "

"O, that can easily be put by, " returned Martha. 

"But Hannah said the major wanted it in a month at longest. "

"Pshaw! that's a phrase of her own making. It sounds just like HannahDoliver's impertinent manner of expressing herself. "

Col. Malcome gave a sudden start as Miss Pinkerton carelessly utteredthese words. 

"What did you say was the name of Mrs. Howard's woman?" he demanded, withan eagerness that astonished his hearers. 

"Hannah Doliver, " repeated Miss Martha; "do you know her?"

"No, " said he, suddenly assuming an appearance of composure; "that is, Ithink not; but I have frequently heard the name of Doliver before. Howlong has she lived with Major Howard?"

"A great many years, I believe, " answered Martha. "People hereaboutswonder at their keeping the ill-tempered, arbitrary hussy. They say sherules the whole house save Miss Florence. "

"Ay; the young lady must have a spirit, then, I should judge, if shedefies such a virago as you describe this woman to be. "

"No more spirit than she should have, " returned Miss Pinkerton. "A sweet, beautiful girl is Florence Howard as ever the sun shone upon. "

"Ay, yes, indeed, " interposed Mrs. Stanhope; "she used to call on us lastsummer, when her embroidery teacher was away, to get Martha to assist herin her tambour work; and I declare, I thought her the most lovablecreature I ever saw. "

"I am told these Howards do not mingle much in society, " remarked thecolonel carelessly. 

"No, " returned Mrs. S. , "Mrs. Howard never goes out. She is a confirmedinvalid, and her disease inclines her to quiet and solitude. I don'tbelieve there's a woman in the village who has seen her in all theseasons the family have passed at Summer Home. "

"O, yes!" said Miss Martha. "Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, saw heronce. When she was there a year ago this spring, putting the house torights, she cleaned the paint and windows of Mrs. Howard's room, and thusgot a sight at the invalid. She told me she was a pale, thin woman, witha distressed expression of countenance. Her hair was nearly white, andshe looked much older than her husband. "

Col. Malcome stood before a window with his back toward the ladies, listening intently to their words. 

"I have understood that Miss Florence is attending school at the seminarythis term, " remarked Mrs. Stanhope, at length; "do you know if it is so, Col. Malcome?"

"I think I heard Edith and Rufus say something to that effect, " answeredhe. 

"I hope she will drop in and see us some day, " said Miss Pinkerton. "Sheand Mrs. Edson are great favorites of mine, and I doubt not your prettydaughter would become one also, if I should get acquainted with her. Weare but humble people, but should be very happy to receive a call fromMiss Edith. "

"Thank you, " said the colonel; "'tis very possible she may some timevisit you, though she is rather timid and inclined to shrink fromstrangers. Well, ladies, shall I leave my work?" he added, laying hiswhite hand on the package as he stepped toward the door. 

"Yes, " answered Miss Martha; "I will engage to have it ready in seasonfor you. "

He bowed and withdrew. Miss Pinkerton peeped through the curtain, as hewalked down the garden path, and thought she had never beheld so handsomeand elegant a specimen of the genus homo. 

 CHAPTER XV. 

 "O, loveliest time! O, happiest day! When the heart is unconscious, and knows not its sway; When the favorite bird, or the earliest flower, Or the crouching fawn's eyes make the joy of the hour, And the spirits and steps are as light as the sleep Which never has wakened to watch or to weep. She bounds on the soft grass, --half woman, half child, As gay as her antelope, almost as wild. The bloom of her cheek is like that on her years. She has never known pain--she has never known tears; And thought has no grief, and no fear to impart; The shadow of Eden is yet on her heart. "

 L. E. L. 

"Father!" said Florence Howard, the second day of her first vacation, "had I not better study Latin next term?"

"Latin!" answered he in a tone of surprise, "why should you study that?"

"O, for discipline to my mind, " returned Florence. 

"I think you will find the acquirement of French and Italian sufficientdiscipline, " said he. 

"O, but they are so easily learned! I want something moredifficult--something I have to study hard on. "

"Why, you would be running to me to get your lessons for you half thetime!" said her father, laughing. 

"No, I wouldn't, " answered she, shaking her curly head cunningly. "Edgarwould assist me. "

"Edgar! and who is he?" inquired Major Howard. 

"Why, Edgar Lindenwood! You know him, " returned she. 

"No, certainly I don't know anything about him, " said her father. 

"Why, you have seen the tall boy with the morocco cap and light curls, that used to walk to school with me last term!" said Florence, lookingearnestly in his face. 

"O, yes! I have seen him frequently, " returned Major H. "What do you sayis his name?"

"Edgar Lindenwood. "

"And where does he live?"

"With his uncle. "

"And who is his uncle?"

"The Hermit of the Cedars. "

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Major Howard. "And so, this young hermit is goingto teach you Latin, Miss Florence? Romantic, upon my word!"

"Edgar is not a hermit!" said Florence, pouting her red lips and assumingan air of dignity which vastly amused her father. "He is brave, and bright, and handsome, and, our preceptor says, already a finerscholar than many a graduate from the university. "

"Well, well; I cannot argue the merits of this favorite of yours, Florence, " said her father; "but I promise to give him a larger share ofmy attention henceforth. "

"I wish you would, father, " said Florence. "I may bring him home with mefrom school some day, --may I not?"

"No!" returned Major Howard. "I can notice him in the street. "

"But you cannot judge of him so far off, " pursued Florence. "He looksbetter the nearer you approach him. "

"I shall judge him best at a distance, " remarked her father, movingaway. 

Florence did not exactly like the tone of voice in which he utteredthese last words; but she soon forgot all else in the contemplation ofstudying Latin, and having Edgar's assistance in learning her lessons. She had never in her life taken any note of time, --never felt it lagheavily on her hands; but it appeared to her now that these interminabledays of vacation would never come to an end. She passed one of them withEdith and Rufus Malcome, and this was by far the most insupportable ofany. "She loved Edith dearly, " she said; "but could not endure thechildish prattle and frivolity of Rufus. "

He was six months older than Florence, and Edith had seen seventeensummers, while Florence was only in her fifteenth; but she was so wellmatured in manners and appearance as to seem the senior of the delicate, retiring Edith. 

Col. Malcome paid her many courteous attentions during her visit, andexpressed an ardent hope that a friendship and intimacy might spring upbetween her and his daughter. 

Florence said she should be delighted to form a companionship withEdith. 

"We are located so near the seminary, " said Col. Malcome, as she waspreparing to return home, and Rufus stood waiting to accompany her;"while your father's mansion is so distant, that it will be veryconvenient for you, on rough days, to come and pass the night withEdith. Indeed, I should be highly gratified if you would make my house asort of second home, and come in, familiarly, every day, if you choose. "

Florence thanked him for his kindness, kissed Edith, and descended tothe street in company with Rufus. 

Col. Malcome approached the window and regarded the couple earnestlytill they passed beyond his view, while strange, dark, commingledexpressions passed over his face. Edith crept up to him and said softly, "What troubles you, father?"

He looked down sternly on her sweet, upturned face, and said in a toneof strong command:

"Edith, I desire you to cultivate the acquaintance of Florence Howard byevery means in your power. "

"I shall be glad to do so, father, " answered she, with a look and tonewhich deprecated his sternness. 

"'Tis well, then, " said he, relaxing his brow and imprinting a kiss onher soft cheek as he turned away and stepped forth upon the piazza. Thefull moon was just rising in the east; the river rippled sweetly in thedistance, and the whippoorwills piped their sharp, shrill notes on thehushed evening air. Suddenly he heard the garden-gate unclose, and, turning, beheld Mrs. Edson and her husband approaching. Descending themarble steps, he met them in the avenue, and, after a cordialinterchange of salutations, ushered them into the gas-lighteddrawing-room, where Edith, in a gossamer-like muslin, reclined on avelvet ottoman. 

The evening passed pleasantly to all but Mr. Edson, who sat like apantomime in a play, staring and grinning at what he could notunderstand or digest. Col. Malcome seemed, however, to take a maliciouspleasure in placing his guest in the most awkward positions, and showingoff his own superior grace and polish to the best advantage. Ifanything, he rather overdone. But perhaps he thought with Mrs. SalsifyMumbles in this case, "Better overshoot than fall short. " Louise wasgraceful and self-possessed as usual; and it must be confessed did notappear very much disconcerted when Col. M. Showed her husband in someridiculous light, or mercilessly uncurtained his crude, narrow-mindedopinions and ideas. 

Scorn and contempt for the man she had married were fast mastering allkinder feelings she once had toward him. 

 CHAPTER XVI. 

 "I bid you leave the girl, and think no more About her from henceforth. "

 "Ah, I can leave Her, sire;--but to forget will be, I fear, A thing beyond my power. "

It was midsummer, and the Hermit of the Cedars sat under his low piazza, curiously constructed of the enwreathed boughs and branches of evergreentrees. He held a volume in his attenuated hand, with the contents ofwhich, he seemed intently occupied. His appearance was melancholy in theextreme. A pale, thin face;--deep sunken eyes, and a broad, high brow, by sorrow seamed with furrows long and wide; for she doth ever dig withdeeper, harsher hand than time. A loose linen garment was wrapped aroundhis tall, gaunt form, and a white handkerchief tied over his head toprevent the passing breezes from blowing his thin, straggling gray hairabout his features. 

So intent was he on the contents of his book that he did not notice theapproach of the cheerer of his solitude. Edgar came along the narrowpath with a step quicker and more impatient than was his wont, and therewas an expression on his fine, manly face which had something ofmortification and anger, but more of regret and sorrow. He threw hissatchel on the ground, and sat down at the hermit's feet, who laid asidehis volume, on beholding him in that position, and asked him if he wasfatigued or ill. 

"No, " said the youth, "but I shall be glad when I am gone away from hereto the university. "

"Ah!" returned the hermit, "it is as I knew it would be when I placedyou at the seminary. Your desire for fame and honor has returned, andyou long to go forth in the great world and mingle in itsst[illegible]. "

"No, " said Edgar, "I would rather live and die within the walls of thishermitage, than ever go beyond them again; but I'm resolved I will notdo the foolish thing. I'll go forth, and if my life is spared, showthose who call me a foundling, and a wild cub of the woods, that I amsomething more than they suppose me to be. "

"Who has dared apply such epithets to you, my boy?" exclaimed thehermit, his pale cheeks glowing with anger. 

"Do you know Major Howard of 'Summer Home?'" asked Edgar. 

"That do I, " answered the hermit; "and did he call you by these names?"

"Yes, " returned Edgar. 

"_He_ talk of foundlings!" said the hermit. "Why did you not slap him inthe face, Edgar?"

"The words did not come directly from him to me, " said the youth, wondering at his uncle's anger, which far exceeded his own. 

"Ay, through a third person you obtained them? and that was"----

"His daughter, Florence Howard. "

"Florence Howard!" repeated his uncle, "and what do you know of her?"

"I have been to school with her four or five months, and have assistedher in her Latin studies this summer, " returned Edgar. 

"And shall never behold her face again!" said the hermit, in a tone ofangry vehemence, bringing his heavy sandalled foot down upon the woodensill with a violence that made Edgar start from his lounging posture onthe turf, and gaze with amazement upon the fierce workings of a face hehad never seen flushed by an angry emotion before. He feared his unclehad suddenly gone mad, and stood indeterminate what course to pursue, when the countenance before him changed, the eyes closed, and the hermitfell heavily on the green sward in front of his door. Edgar, in hisalarm, lifted the prostrate form in his strong, young arms, and bore himto the low, rough couch, which was their nightly resting-place. Then, taking a bottle from a [illegible] shelf above the huge, blackfire-place, he poured its contents in a cup, and bathed the temples ofthe deathly-looking face till the eyes opened with recognition, and thelips moved, though inaudibly. 

He watched by the bed-side several hours, and at length the hermit rosesuddenly to his feet, and bade Edgar retire. He obeyed, and closed hiseyes, but not to sleep. Opening them after a while, he beheld his unclesitting before the table engaged in writing. Again the lids closed, andhe fell into a light drowse, during which Florence Howard flitted beforehim in countless variety of forms. When again he looked around he wasalone. The long summer twilight had deepened into evening, and Edgarrose and lighted a lamp. On the table he discovered a small, foldedbillet, addressed to him. He sank on his knees, opened it, and read. Various were the expressions that flitted over his features as he didso. When he had finished he refolded it carefully, and, drawing a bunchof keys from his pocket, unlocked a small box which sat on the table, placed the letter within, then relocked it and returned the keys to hispocket. 

Then he extinguished the lamp and sat down in the window-nook to hiswatch of the stars. 

But his thoughts were different from what they once were when he gazedon their glistening faces. 

His soul-pinions had kissed the earth, and become fouled by contact witha grosser element; and heavy with a weltering weight of woe, that theycould not soar aloft and hover over the casements of angelic homes, torest at last on the glory-bright hills of heaven. 

 CHAPTER XVII. 

 "I only know their dream was vain, And that they woke to find it past, And when by chance they met again, It was not as they parted last. His was not faith that lightly dies; For truth and love as clearly shone In the blue heaven of his soft eyes As the dark midnight of her own. And therefore heaven alone can tell What are his living visions now, But hers--the eye can read too well The language written on her brow. "

 PHEBE CAREY. 

The yearly examination and exhibition of Cedar Hill Seminary wasapproaching, and teachers and pupils were busied with preparations inorder to pass the ordeal creditably to themselves and to theinstitution. 

Prominent among the list of performers stood the name of EdgarLindenwood, often in juxtaposition with that of Florence Howard. Sincethe scene in the hermit's hut, Edgar, as commanded by his uncle, hadstudiously avoided Florence, and she, for a still longer period, hadevinced a certain distance and reserve toward him. Edgar's knowledge ofher father's dislike might be sufficient cause to part him from her, butit could by no means justify his growing intercourse with Edith Malcome. 

As the time approached for the exhibition, Florence asked her father'spermission to absent herself entirely and remain at home. Maj. Howardthought she had better attend, as she had been to school several terms;but she said she felt too languid to take part in the exercises, andthus obtained the excuse of her indulgent father. 

Edgar's quick, impassioned nature regarded her absence as a directinsult to himself, for in all the parts assigned her, she would bebrought on the stage in company with him, and frequently obliged to holdsingle converse. If this opinion needed further confirmation it wasadded, when she appeared at the Scholars' Levee, held on the evening ofthe exhibition, in elegant dress and dashing spirits, with Rufus Malcomefor a partner. 

They passed each other in the dance without a token of recognition. Edgar attached himself to Edith for the larger part of the evening. After the first two or three cotillons he did not care to join them; andEdith, being too delicate to bear the excitement, they roamed throughthe hall, conversing together of the events of the exhibition, ormingling among groups of the village people who had assembled byinvitation to partake in the festive scene. 

"Ha, my little fairy!" whispered Mrs. Edson in the ear of Edith, as shewas sauntering past on the arm of Lindenwood, unmindful of her friend'sproximity; "are you so far skyward you can't see poor Louise? Introduceme to your princely gallant, an' it please you. "

Edith turned and presented Edgar to Mrs. Edson, who instantly found thema place in the group around her. 

"This scene brings vividly before me my happy school days, " sheremarked, tears welling up to her beautiful eyes, which she dashedhurriedly away, exclaiming, "but I must not begin to prose about myselfwhen I was young, lest I drive you all away by my tedious recitals. "

"Mr. Lindenwood, " said she, turning to Edgar, "though we have never metbefore, your vivid personations on the stage to-day have caused you toseem more like an old friend than a comparative stranger. "

Edgar expressed his pleasure that his poor performances had met herapprobation, and also that she condescended to recognize him as afriend. 

"What a graceful creature is Florence Howard!" continued Mrs. Edson, asthe fair girl whirled past her in the dance. "Edith, your brother shouldconsider himself most fortunate in securing the most brilliant lady inthe room for a partner; no disparagement to your charms, my dear, " sheadded, leaning over and bestowing a kiss on the soft cheek of theblushing girl. "You know what I think of you, darling. The spirit ofbeauty is everywhere, says the poet. She assumes the largest variety oftypes and forms, and, verily, she has given her most dangerous one toFlorence Howard. She is the brilliant dahlia, the pride of the gayparterre; but my Edith is the modest daisy blooming in some shelterednook. The stormy winds shall rend the one from its lofty stalk andscatter its wealth of purple leaves o'er the miry earth, while dews andsunbeams kiss the modest plant that blooms in the lowly vale. Is it notso, Mr. Lindenwood?" she asked, as, pausing, she encountered his gazefixed earnestly on her face. 

"I don't know, " he said; "that is, I have not considered the subject. Edith, I think the party are retiring, " he added, turning his eyes toseveral disjointed groups; "remain with Mrs. Edson a few moments and Iwill return to you. "

As he entered the ladies' dressing room, he saw Florence standing aloneby the window, in the very spot where they had often stood in theinterim of recitations, and studied their lessons from the same book. Hethought he would give the world to know she was thinking of those timesnow. Approaching softly he stood near her in silence a few moments. 

"O, Florence!" said he, at length, in a low, deep tone, tremulous withintense feeling and tenderness. Was there not enough of passionatedevotion breathed in that one word to convince her of his eternal, unchanging affection?

What poor, weak simpletons are we, to pine and languish for words, wherelooks and tones are infinitely more expressive! Some people affirm that"actions speak louder than words. " But we can't say much in favor ofthose, because, as far as we know, people in love invariably act likefools. 

Florence turned at Edgar's adjuration, and he saw, by the moonlight, twogreat tear-drops dimming her starry eyes. He was about to extend hishand when Rufus Malcome rushed into the room, calling her name. Changinghis purpose, he said, in a light conventional tone, "Have you been happyto night?"

"O, very!" answered she, with a gay laugh, which echoed in his ear longafter she had taken the arm of Rufus and tripped lightly away. 

When Edgar returned to Edith, he found Col. Malcome in livelyconversation with Mrs. Edson. Florence and Rufus had disappeared, andEdith signifying her wish to retire, he led her from the hall andescorted her home. He found Florence in Col. Malcome's parlor sitting ona sofa with Rufus at her side. 

"Come in, Lindenwood, " said he; "here's room for us all. "

"Thank you, " returned Edgar. "I have a long walk before me, and must nottarry. "

"O, stay with us to night, " said Rufus. 

"We should be pleased to have you remain, if agreeable, " remarked Edith, timidly. 

"It would be very agreeable, " said Edgar, politely, "but my absencewould alarm my uncle. "

"O, he wants to be off to his hermitage!" laughed Rufus, coarsely; "lethim go. You will stay, won't you, Florence?"

"If Edith invites me, " returned she. 

"Well, I do, " said Edith quickly. 

"Then the point is settled, " remarked Florence. 

"Good-night to you all, " said Edgar, moving hastily toward the door. 

Scarce ten minutes had elapsed, after his departure, when Florence roseand said, "Now I am going. "

"Why, you just promised to remain all night, " said Rufus, in a tone ofundisguised disappointment. 

"No, " said she; "I made no promise, and I am going. "

"Then I'll go with you, " returned Rufus, seizing his hat. 

"No, " said Col. Malcome, suddenly entering the apartment. "With MissHoward's consent, I'll be her escort home to-night. "

Florence said she should be honored by his company. So biddinggood-night to Edith and Rufus, she took his proffered arm and descendedto the street. 

"How have you enjoyed the ball to-night?" inquired he, as they walked ontogether. 

"Very well, " answered she, briefly. 

"This young Lindenwood, that burrows with the strange chap they call the'Hermit of the Cedars;' you are acquainted with him, I believe. "

"He has attended school at the seminary, since I commenced to go, "answered Florence, as calmly as she was able. 

"He has been paying Edith some attentions of late, " continued thecolonel, in a careless tone; "do you suppose he really cares for her?"

"I don't know, " answered Florence; and her voice trembled in spite ofher efforts to steady it. 

"Of course you don't know, " the colonel went on, still in that cold, indifferent tone; "I merely asked what you thought?"

"I never thought anything about it in my life, " said Florence, in achoking voice. 

"That's rather strange, " returned he. "I have thought of it severaltimes lately;--but here we are at your father's gate. Present myregards, and say I would be happy to receive a call from him whenever heis so disposed. "

Florence bowed good-evening to her gallant, and hurried to her ownapartment. 

The night was warm. A waning moon lighted the eastern terrace, and, notfeeling disposed to sleep, she stepped through a window that opened tothe floor, and, leaning against a pillar, stood silently gazing over thegardens and grounds below. 

She had not been standing long thus when she beheld the figure of a manmoving slowly along the gravelled walks, pausing frequently and fixingan earnest gaze on the windows of the apartment occupied by her mother. She grew alarmed, and was about descending the stairs to arouse herfather, when she heard the hall door open softly, and saw the figure ofa woman stealing down the garden path. She recognized the dark forminstantly as that of Hannah Doliver. The man met her and the two wentinto a green-house. After an hour the woman reappeared, and retraced hersteps to the mansion, but the man she saw no more. Securing her windows, Florence retired, resolving to impart to her father a history of whatshe had seen. 

When, she did so, he only laughed at her and said he supposed it wassome enamored knight come to pay his devoirs to the fair lady of hislove, and counselled her to say no more of the matter, as it wouldneedlessly irritate Hannah to know her secret was discovered. 

 CHAPTER XVIII. 

 "The world hath used me well, and now at length In peace and quietness I sit me down To feed upon the fruits of my hard toils. Ambition doth no more distract my breast, -- I've reached the height my spirit strove to gain; Here will I rest, and watch life glide away. "

It is quite time for us to call on Mrs. Salsify Mumbles again. We fearthe good lady, who is rather sensitive on such points, has feltneglected ere this; but we hope not, and, as her mansion heaves in view, we are convinced that matters of more importance than visits from ourhumble selves, have engaged our old friend's attention. 

The second story has actually gone up, and the piazza spreads its whitepalings along the sides of Mr. Salsify's dwelling. The pasteboard signof "Mr. Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker, " is no longer seen swingingfrom the bed-room window, but a new sign stretches its sublime lengthover the doors of Mr. Salsify's old grocery, announcing, in staringblack and yellow, to the inhabitants of Wimbledon, that "Mumbles, Shaw &Co. , wholesale dealers in pork, cheese, onions, dried apples, sausages, and verdigris, continue at the old stand, No. 9 Temple street, wherethey will entertain the trading public in a genteel and finishedmanner. "

Thus it appears Mr. Salsify's high hopes are at length realized. Mostfortunate man! He has "risen in his profession" to the topmost summit ofhis earthly ambition. 

Happy will it be for him if he remains content with his presentelevation, and goes not, like too many restless mortals, clambering to ahigher point, only to fall back, on some adverse day, into the slough ofill-luck and despondency. 

Mrs. Salsify sits in her parlor making caps for her thumb, at least weshould judge so, from their surprisingly small dimensions; and MaryMadeline is nowhere to be seen. But Dilly Danforth is in the kitchenbending over a great wash-tub, pale and sunken-eyed as ever. Now that welook at this woman attentively, it strikes us she is wonderfully likethat lank-visaged man, who dwells in the lonely forest hut, the "Hermitof the Cedars, " as he is called. But then it may be only the resemblancewhich all the sons and daughters of affliction have in common. 'Tis notlikely 'tis more than that. And gazing on Willie, who stands over thegreat arches, replenishing the fires, and at intervals poking the whiteheaps of linen beneath the fierce bubbling suds with a long woodenshovel, we fancy for a moment there's something about him like EdgarLindenwood. Of course, he is not so large or so well-dressed;nevertheless, he is greatly improved since we last saw him; and there issomething in the turn of the head, which is certainly finely shaped, though placed on the shoulders of a beggar boy; and something in the setof the rusty cloth cap over the bright, sunny curls, that reminds us ofthe tall, graceful lad we used to see winding his way over the hills tothe large, white seminary. But then, a great many boys havepretty-formed heads, and bright, curly hair; and, should we attempt, nodoubt we could find a large number with more points of resemblance thanwe have been able to make out between Edgar Lindenwood and WillieDanforth. We are full of conceits. Sometimes Edith Malcome is likeFlorence Howard, and Rufus' glistening, coal-black hair reminds us ofHannah Doliver, while the handsome colonel has a look we cannot fathom, and from which we turn with a creeping shudder. 

'Tis quite astonishing what strange fancies possess people at times. 

While we have been indulging in ours, Mrs. Mumbles has put away thoseimpossible caps, and come into the kitchen to see how matters and thingsare progressing, and just as she begins to tell Aunt Dilly, that she"wants her to get through washing in time to scour down the pantryshelves and scrub the oil-cloth on the dining-room floor, " in runs MissSusan Pimble, and says, "Mamma wants Mrs. Danforth to come and do alittle light work for her, to-morrow; for she has got to go to GoslinFlats to attend a great mass convention, and can't stop to do itherself. She will pay Aunt Dilly well, if she will oblige her. Garrisonhas been sick--Peggy Nonce is away on a visit to her son, who hasrecently been married, and mamma's public duties and household affairshave proved too heavy for her shoulders, " etc. , etc. 

Susy ran through a long rigmarole, with a volubility worthy the daughterof a fluent public speaker. 

We hasten away lest our mania for discovering resemblances should detectone between Mrs. Salsify Mumbles and pert Susy Pimble. 

 CHAPTER XIX. 

 "Ay, little do those features wear The shade of sin, --the soil of care; The hair is parted o'er a brow Open and white as mountain-snow, And clusters there in many a ring, With sun and summer glistening. Yet something on that brow has wrought A moment's cast of angry thought. "

In an arbor of Major Howard's elegant garden, the moonlight shimmeringits rich, clustering vines with silver, and the night-breezes murmuringin low, musical voices among the dark green leaves, sat a man ofcommanding aspect and handsome features. Light auburn hair, closelytrimmed, lay in short, thick masses of wavy curls around his high, palebrow. His mien and manner indicated the well-bred gentleman. A small, dark figure crouched beside him. It was Hannah Doliver. 

"We meet again at last, " said the man, after a considerable silence. Hisvoice was low and deep, and the woman trembled as she answered, "I marvel how you have discovered me. "

"Few things escape my knowledge which it subserves my interest to know, "returned he. "What in the name of all the fiends possessed you to enterthe service of Tom Howard?"

"A lone, forsaken female finds shelter where she can, " whined the woman. 

"O, don't babble in that hypocritical tone!" said the man. "I did notleave you so destitute; and I took the child off your hands that noincumbrance might fetter your footsteps. "

"Fiend!" exclaimed Hannah. "You shall not talk to me thus. What have youdone with my boy?"

"I have done well by him, " answered the man. "He has been reared as agentleman. No stain has ever been suspected on his birth. "

"Where is he?" asked she, in a voice trembling with emotion. 

"He is near you. I left him but an hour ago, well and happy. "

"Near me!" said the woman almost wildly. "It cannot be--you lie to me, Herbert!"

"By the heavens above, I utter the solemn truth!" returned the man. 

"What name does he bear?"

The man bowed his tall form and whispered in her ear. She sprang to herfeet, paced hurriedly to and fro down the little alcove, and at lengththrew herself on her knees and exclaimed, "O, let me see him! Can you be so cruel as to withhold the child fromhis mother's right?"

"It rests with you to decide whether you see him or no, " said the man, wholly unmoved by her distress and emotion. Swear to keep my presencehere a secret, and do my bidding in all things, and you may see your boywhen you choose. "

"I swear!" answered the woman, frantically. 

"Tell me first why you are here serving Tom Howard's wife?"

"I am not serving his wife. "

"Who then?"

"His sister. "

"His sister!" exclaimed the man, now evincing strong emotion. "And doesshe live?"

"She lives; and lives to palm herself off on the world as the wife ofher own brother. "

"What iniquity!" said the man. The woman burst into a low laugh. 

"Why do you laugh?" demanded he, fiercely. 

"Because iniquity comes so prettily from your lips, " replied she in asarcastic tone. 

"Take care, woman!" said he. "Remember you are in my power. "

The little dark figure trembled and was silent. 

"I wonder she would receive you again into her service, " remarked theman at length in an absorbed tone. 

"Fear is a strong motive. I threatened to reveal her deception to thepublic. "

"Ay, you have some skill and tact, I find!" said he, rising. "Nowremember, when I wish to see your mistress, you are to gain me anentrance to her. "

"What do you want to see her for?" asked the woman. "I believe a sightof you would throw her into fits. "

"It is none of your business why I wish to see her, " said he. "But mind, you do not look on your boy unless you implicitly obey all my commands. "Here he stooped and whispered again in her ear. 

"I hate the girl!" she said, after he had ceased speaking and stoodgazing down on her, twirling his velvet cap carelessly in his hand. 

"But you would like to see your boy so well married, " remarked he. 

"'Twould be a sweet revenge, " she said in a chuckling tone. He turnedto depart. 

"Herbert!" she called, softly. 

"What do you wish?" said he, pausing. 

The woman hesitated, and at length said, "The girl--her child I mean; isshe----?"

Again the man whispered in her ear. "None can say, " he added aloud, "that I have not been a kind parent to my children. "

"I'm glad there's some virtue in you, " said the woman, turning towardthe quiet mansion that stood in almost palace-like magnificence in themidst of the beautiful grounds that surrounded it on all sides. The manlingered behind, and finally left the garden by a path lying in anopposite direction from the one by which he had entered. He bent hissteps rapidly in the direction of the river. Either the warmth of thenight or his own emotions oppressed him; for, as he gained its banks, heslackened his pace, drew off his cap, and loosened his collar. Witharms folded across his chest, he moved slowly along, like one intenselyabsorbed in some dark and intricate train of thought. Sometimes hemuttered to himself, and made strange gestures, or tossed his head witha confident air, as though he saw onward to the success of some plan heconcerted. So occupied was he in his own thoughts, that he never saw thetall, gaunt figure of a man, crouching in the shadow of a small lindentree, that stood on the bank of the river, nearly opposite DillyDanforth's wretched abode, although he passed in so close contact as tobrush against the little bundle of sticks the unknown held in his hand, while his deep, sunken eyes glared on the passer till they seemed nearlystarting from their sockets. 

"'Tis he!" murmured the gazer, when the abstracted one was beyond thesound of his voice. "I must see where he goes;" and, stealingnoiselessly to the door of Dilly's abode, he placed the bundle of stickson her sill, and slowly followed the receding figure. 

 CHAPTER XX. 

 "And the clear depths of her dark eye Were bright with troubled brilliancy, Yet the lips drooped as with the tear, Which might oppress, but not appear. Her curls, with all their sunny glow, Were braided o'er an aching brow; But well she knew how many sought To gaze upon her secret thought;-- And love is proud--she might not brook That others on her heart should look. "

One pleasant autumn evening a social group were assembled in Mr. LeroyEdson's tasteful parlor. A tall, argand lamp on a marble table, shed itsmild, ethereal light over the rich furniture. A bright fire glowed inthe marble grate, and in the genial atmosphere of her own creating, young Mrs. Edson moved, a thing of grace and beauty. She wore a robe ofemerald Genoa velvet, with an open bodice, laced over a chemisette offine-wrought Mechlin lace. Broad, drooping Pagoda sleeves revealed herwhite arms encircled by quaintly-fashioned jet bracelets. Her guestswere not numerous, but select. Col. Malcome and his family were mostprominent among the number. Florence Howard was there, attended byRufus, and Edgar Lindenwood in company with Edith. Jenny Andrews, withno less a personage than our quondam, roguish friend, Dick Giblet, shop-boy of Mr. Salsify Mumbles' grocery; now Mr. Richard Giblet, of thefirm of Edson, Giblet & Co. A very respectable appearance Dick made, too, for he was a quick, sprightly young fellow, albeit somewhatover-fond of a mischievous joke; but this he would outgrow in timeprobably. Amy Seaton, sedate and modest as ever, with laughing Charliefor her beau, and several others, among whom we might mention MissMartha Pinkerton, made up the little party. 

Edith looked fragile and sweet as ever in a dress of azure thibet cloth, her light hair hanging in clusters of wavy curls over her smallshoulders. She leaned gracefully on the arm of Lindenwood, and looked inhis face with a gentle, artless expression of countenance. 

Florence, in her crimson cashmere, and dark, massy ringlets, looked ashade paler than when we last saw her, but more queenly and brilliant, if possible. 

There were many points of resemblance between her and Louise Edson. Bothwere endowed with superior mental and intellectual powers; bothaccomplished and beautiful; but there was at times a gentleness inFlorence's manner, a dreamy light in the far depths of her large, hazeleyes, that indicated less firmness and strength of character, withtenderer susceptibilities. Perhaps life's trials would sooner unnerveher spirit. 

Mr. Edson was not present, nor was it necessary he should be, to enhancethe enjoyment of his gifted wife. He was, in fact, very much the samesort of an appendage in his elegant mansion that Mrs. Pimble averred herhusband to be in his, --"a mere crank to keep the machine in motion. " Notthat Mrs. Edson monopolized her husband's sphere, as did the masculineMrs. Pimble. By no means. She appeared to give her lord full sway andsceptre in his own household, and the good-natured man thought neverhusband had so obedient, condescending partner as blessed his bosom. Consummate actress, to conquer where she seemed to yield, and use heradvantages so skilfully that the vanquished felt himself the victor. Mrs. Pimble stormed and blustered, but she exercised not half the powerover her household that Louise Edson swayed by a soft word or placidsmile. 

But we forget our party, which waxes merry as the evening progresses, warmed by the genial influences of social intercourse. Col. Malcome andMrs. Edson discussed the merits of different authors; Lindenwoodmodestly joined them, and Florence dropped an occasional word. Edith satsilent. Rufus yawned, and at length commenced a game of forfeits withDick Giblet, over which he soon grew so boisterous, that his fatherreproved him sternly for a violation of the rules of politeness. Theyouth's brow flushed with sudden anger, and for the remainder of theevening he sat apart from the company. When the party dispersed he didnot come forward to claim Florence, and she fell a second time to thecare of Col. Malcome. Edgar escorted Edith, and the couples wentdifferent ways to reach their destinations. Edgar took the street by theriver, and Col. M. That leading past the seminary. The latter had muchthe longer walk; but Edith, fragile and delicate, complained of fatigue, ere they had proceeded far, and Edgar proposed she should rest awhile onthe trunk of a fallen tree by the river's brink. She sat down, and he, after a few moments, assumed a seat at her side. Her veil was thrownoff, and her small silk hat had fallen back from her head, revealing infull her girlish features and wavy, auburn curls. Edgar was gazing onthe beautiful face, when suddenly a footstep met his ear, and, turning, he beheld his uncle, the hermit, standing before them, staring wildlyupon Edith; who, as soon as she discovered the strange-looking being, uttered a faint scream and sunk on Edgar's bosom. "Don't be alarmed, "said he, whispering in her ear; "this man will not harm you, "--and thenlifting his head to address his uncle, and inquire what brought himthere, so far from home at that late hour, he found the hermit haddisappeared. 

Calming Edith's alarm as well as he was able, he escorted her home, andthen set off for the hut in the forest, pondering, as he went, upon theevent of the evening, and wondering what could be the cause of thefierce and ireful expression which disfigured the usually placid face ofhis uncle, as he gazed so fixedly on Edith. It reminded him of theviolent passion evinced in regard to his intercourse with FlorenceHoward. He knew the recluse had experienced a severe disappointment inearly life, and concluded this had tended to sour his mind toward thewhole female race, and caused him to look with angry distrust upon themost gentle and lovely of the sex. In no other way could he account forthe repugnance manifested by his uncle toward his friendship andacquaintance with both Florence and Edith. Thus ruminating, he reachedthe forest habitation to find all dark and gloomy. The hermit had notreturned to his hut. 

Col. Malcome lingered a moment as he escorted Florence to the door ofher father's mansion, and, as he did so, Major Howard stepped forth, rather suddenly. Florence presented him to the colonel, and the twogentlemen shook hands cordially. 

"I have frequently desired to call on you and form your acquaintance, Col. Malcome, " said the major; "but frequent absences from home, and thedelicate health of my wife, have prevented me hitherto. "

A slight, cynical smile flitted over the colonel's face at these latterwords, but it was not observed in the obscure light of evening, and heanswered, politely, that he had often desired an acquaintance with themajor, and hoped that now their children had established a friendlyintercourse, the parents might soon follow the example. 

Major Howard expressed a wish that it might be so, and Col. Malcome, bowing gracefully, retired. 

Florence, after inquiring for her mother, and learning she wascomfortable as usual, ascended to her room, made fast the door, and drewforth her journal, which was the dearest companion of her lonely hours, the receptacle of her most treasured thoughts, and safety-valve for allunuttered griefs and hidden sorrows. 

She had scarcely touched her gold-tipped pen to the virgin page, when asoft knock on the door displaced her train of thought. 

"Father?" said she putting her lips close to the lock, for he was theonly one from whom she could expect a call at that late hour. There wasno answer. She hesitated a moment, and then opened the door. HannahDoliver slid in. 

Florence stood still, gazing with astonishment on the little wiry form, as it wormed around the apartment, touching the books, and giving suddenpulls at the curtains and bed drapery. She had never seen Hannah overher threshold before, and wondered what a visit from her might import. 

"I came to see if you wanted anything, Miss Florence, " said the woman, at length, fixing her twinkling eyes on the fair girl's face. 

"No!" said Florence, in an impatient tone; "what should I want at thishour, but to be alone?"

"O, I'm not going to intrude upon you but a moment, " returned Hannah. "Ithought, as you had been out late and 'twas rather cold, you might wanta fire lighted in your room, or a cup of warm tea, or something; so Iran up to see. " Florence grew more and more astonished. "Have youenjoyed yourself this evening?" asked Hannah. 

"Yes, " answered Florence briefly. 

"I am glad to hear it, " returned the woman. "This Col. Mer---- what ishis name?" she paused and asked abruptly. 

"Malcome, " said Florence. 

"O, yes! I'm bad at remembering strange names. Well, this Col. Malcomehas got some fine children, has he not?"

"Yes, " returned Florence; "his daughter is a beautiful girl. "

"And his son?"

"Is a loggerhead. "

At these words, a furious anger, flashed over Hannah's face, and, glaring fiercely on Florence for a moment, she darted from the room andslammed the door behind her. The young girl turned the key, saying, "I'mglad to be rid of her hateful presence. What possessed her to come hereis more than I can tell. " And in the surprise this unusual visitoccasioned, she retired and forgot her journal. 

 CHAPTER XXI. 

 "A mien that neither seeks nor shuns The homage scattered in her way; A love that hath few favored ones, And yet for all can work and pray. A smile wherein each mortal reads The very sympathy he needs; An eye like to a mystic book, Of lays that bard or prophet sings, Which keepeth for the holiest look Of holiest love, its deepest things. "

What an impetus was given to the cause of Woman's Rights, when the firstBloomer stepped upon the stage! With what tremendous huzzas of triumphand victory did the whole assaulting sisterhood mount the breaches thusmade in the great bulwarks of man's tyranny and despotism; infuriatelycalling on every woman throughout the length and breadth of the nationto rise in the might of her slumbering strength, make her petticoatsinto pillars of defiance, and hurl them on the weak, unguarded outposts, till the whole tottering fabric should go down with a crash to rise nomore. 

Mrs. Pimble and her coadjutors commenced rolling the ball of reformwith increased velocity. Mass meetings, of the most boisterous anddenunciatory character, were held through the community. It appeared awar was commenced which threatened to cease only with the exterminationof the masculine portion of Wimbledon. Mr. Salsify Mumbles, though asbrave as most men in common encounters, was afraid to step outside hisdoor lest his unmentionables should be seized by some of the new-fledgedmanhood, and a petticoat tied to his coat-tail. Even the green damaskcurtains and cushion-coverings that adorned the high, old-fashionedpulpit of the village church, were voted as ostentatious and calculatedto foster luxurious idleness in the pastor; and a committee appointedand authorized to tear them from their places and sew them into bloomersfor the comfort of the lady-lecturers, whose callings exposed them tothe most inclement weathers. And so green-legged Philanthropy stalkedthrough Wimbledon; but it never laid an armful of wood on the sill ofDilly Danforth's humble abode, though rough blew the storms of theinclement winter; nor did it put a cap over Master Willie's curly locks, or sew a charitable patch on the elbow of his ragged jacket. Because itwas philanthropy in the wider sense, which sought to relieve in the sumof thousands--not of units. 

Mrs. Dr. Simcoe figured not so largely among the sisterhood of reformersas she would have done had she not been encumbered by "Simcoe'schildren, " who were two of the most ill-natured, uncompromisingoffshoots of barbarism that ever tormented a meek, unoffending woman. 

Mrs. Lawson thought some reformer should arise to fill the place sonearly vacated by the persecuted lady, and fixed upon Mrs. Edson as hersuccessor. 

So, on a day, Mrs. Lawson, in green damask bloomers, black overcoat, anddeer-skin gloves, appeared on the steps of Mrs. Edson's mansion, andgave a herculean pull at the door-bell which brought the master of thehouse instanter, with staring eyes, to answer the pealing summons. "Ibelieve Mrs. Edson resides here, " said the lady-reformist, lookingloftily upon the man, who was evidently very much struck with hisvisitor's personal equipments. 

"She does, " answered he, at length. 

"I have come to hold a conversation with her, " said Mrs. Lawson, stamping the snow from her boots, and proceeding toward the open door ofthe sitting-room. 

Louise rose as she entered, glanced at the strange figure, then at herhusband, and then back to the figure again, with an amusing expressionof wonder on her beautiful features. 

"I do not know this--this person's name, " said he, at length. 

"Lawson--Mrs. Portentia Lawson!" said the lady-reformist, laying herwalking-stick on the piano, and unbuttoning her over-coat. "I amactively engaged in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and have cometo obtain your aid and coöperation, madam. " Here she made a lowinclination toward Louise. 

"My wife does not meddle in such matters, " said Mr. Edson, simply. "Ipay a stated sum yearly toward the support of the gospel, and give asmuch as people in general to the missionary and Bible societies. "

"It is nothing to me, " said Mrs. Lawson, turning sharply upon thespeaker, "what you give to support the gospel, or to endow Biblesocieties. I have nothing to do with such milk-sop organizations, or thedonkeys that draggle at their heels. Other and loftier objects engage myattention and claim my powers. My business is not with you, sir! It iswith the woman who condescends to acknowledge you as her husband!"Having delivered herself of the preceding harangue, Mrs. Lawson turnedher attention to Louise, and vouchsafed no further notice of Mr. Edson, who soon slunk out of the room and returned to his counter. 

"I suppose you are not wholly ignorant of the reform the more talentedof your sex are making efforts to effect in the social condition ofWimbledon, " remarked the nimble-tongued Mrs. Lawson to her fair auditor, who was sitting in a low rocking-chair before the glowing grate, withher tiny, slippered-feet poised on the fender. 

"Yes!" answered she, purposely ignorant. "I am confined at home by myduties as a wife, and know very little of what is passing around me. "

Mrs. Lawson proceeded to give a detailed account of the labors of asmall band of enfranchised females for the liberation of their enslavedand suffering sisters, whose weakness and timidity had hithertoprevented their rising and throwing off the yoke of the oppressor, man. So eloquently did she rehearse her tale, so still and patient was herlistener, that she felt confident of gaining a new coädjutor in theranks of female reform. As she finished her recital, she directed asharp, piercing glance toward Mrs. Edson, whose calm, clear eyes andplacid face evinced no disturbing emotions. 

"Will you join our ranks?" demanded Mrs. Lawson, "and aid us in rendingthe fetters forged on woman's wrists by the tyrant man?"

"No!" said Louise, in a quiet but determined tone. 

"Then you do not believe in Woman's Rights!" said Mrs. Lawson, half herenthusiasm falling off and leaving her coarse features blank and bare. 

"O, yes!" answered Louise, her face brightening as she spoke, "I believein Woman's Rights with all my heart and soul. Yet not in crowds, andcamps, and forums, where swarming multitudes are jostling to and fro;and brawls, and shouts, and loud harangues make tumult in the air, do Ibelieve she finds her proper sphere. Not in halls of legislation, oramong empannelled juries, or yet within the sacred desk, would I beholdthe form of woman. No, no! what sight so revolting to a refinedsoul--whether it dwell in male or female bosom--as unsexed womanhood, booted and spurred, parading over rostrums, brawling in debates, andspouting sophistical sentiments on subjects of whose true significationthey are as ignorant as an idiot of the laughter and derision his babbleexcites? O, 'tis woman's thrice-beautiful right to relieve and succorthe care-worn and distressed, wherever on this goodly earth they fallwithin the circle of her sphere and influence! To give sweet, unobtrusive charities to the children of want! By gentle words ofsympathy and hope, to raise and cheer the drooping souls of her erringsisters; and in dim-lighted rooms, where restless disease tosses oncouches of pain and agony, 'tis hers to move with noiseless tread, tosmooth the pillow, bathe the brow, and give the healing potion! Say nother sphere is limited, her influence small, her mission low, or herrights unacknowledged. "

Louise rose as she proceeded, her face glowing with the sentiments sheuttered. Mrs. Lawson stood before her, moving backwards gradually, tillshe finally receded through the open door, took to the street, and wasseen no more in the home of Louise Edson. 

 CHAPTER XXII. 

 "Babies are very well when they don't cry, But when they do, I choose not to be nigh; For of all awful sounds that can appal, The most terrific is a baby's squall; I'd rather hear a panther's hungry howl, Or e'en a tiger's deep, ferocious growl, Than sit in chimney-corner 'neath my hat, And list the screechings of an irate brat. "

We thought we would go to Mrs. Stanhope's this cold, starry, winterevening, but on passing the parlor windows of Dea. Allen's cottage, thecurtains being yet undrawn, we distinguished, by the blazing firelightwithin, the form of that good lady, and also that of her maiden sister, Miss Martha Pinkerton, both sitting at the family table, drinking teawith the good deacon and his amiable spouse. Amy Seaton and Charlie werethere, too, but we missed the laughing face of Jenny Andrews, and Mrs. Allen said she was gone on a sleighing excursion, which a number of theyoung people of Wimbledon were enjoying, this fine, bright evening. 

"I want to know, " asked Miss Pinkerton, sipping her bohea, "if youbelieve there's any truth in the report of Florence Howard's engagementwith Rufus Malcome, Mrs. Allen?"

"Well, I never thought much about the matter, " returned thatmild-visaged lady. "The young people's affairs don't interest meparticularly. The two families are quite intimate. We have the Malcomesat our next door, and can't well avoid seeing a large number of theirvisitors, as they come and go. "

"Col. Malcome is a very gentlemanly man, " remarked Mrs. Stanhope, asthey were rising from the table. 

"Yes, " said the good deacon, wiping his face with a yellow silkhandkerchief; "but sometimes I fear he is not the Christian he shouldbe. He never goes to church, and every Sunday that wicked-looking womanof Major Howard's is there the whole day, racketing about with Rufus andthe servants. I don't think a peaceable, pious man would counsel suchdoings, for my part. "

"That Hannah Doliver at Col. Malcome's every Sabbath?" said MissPinkerton, opening wide her large, light eyes; "I don't see what shedoes there; really, the impudence of some people is astonishing. 'Tislikely she wants to see all she can and gossip about the colonel'saffairs. "

Nobody replied to this pert speech of Miss Martha's, and Mrs. Stanhoperesumed the conversation by giving a brief account of Mrs. Lawson'sdiscomfiting attempt to convert Mrs. Louise Edson into a reformer; shehaving received an amusing description of the scene from Louise's ownlips. This was exciting considerable merriment among the group, whenthere came a rap on the door, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles entered with herdaughter, Mary Madeline; the latter carrying a bundle in her arms. Before the salutations were fairly over, said bundle began to squeal, and on removing several yellow flannel blankets, a baby was discoveredof nearly the same hue as the shawls which had enveloped it. 

And the baby became the toast on all sides; as what baby does not, whenmaking its debut among strangers? Mrs. Allen said it was the image ofits grandma, whereupon Mrs. Salsify laughed and looked supremely silly. The deacon patted its back and said, "Poor little innocent! what a worldof sin and misery it has come into!"

Mrs. Stanhope said it appeared very strong of its age, and MissPinkerton gave it a hasty, expressive glance, which spoke _her_ opinionmore eloquently than words could have done. 

Amy and Charlie approached in their turn, and, gazing on it, exclaimed, innocently, "What a _funny thing_!"

Verily, there was more truth than fiction in these words. It certainly_was_ a funny thing. On the crown of its long, bare, peaked head, stuckone of the little, furbelowed caps we once saw Mrs. Salsify engaged inmaking, which was tied down over its flapping ears with orange-coloredribbon. A receding forehead, little specs of eyes, a turned-up nose, andgreat blubber lips, adown whose corners flowed eternally two miniaturecataracts. O, what a face! Surely, nobody but a grandmother would bepleased to have it said to resemble theirs. 'Twas such a scowling, uncomfortable-looking baby, and had such a shrill, piercing squeal for acry; for all the world like a miniature porker. Mary Madeline tossed itup and down in her arms, trotted it on her knee, but still it squealed, and Mrs. Salsify said it was squealing for its father; it always did sowhen it was carried away from him, and they should have to take it home. So they bundled off, and then Miss Martha spoke. "It was strange peoplewould carry their squalling brats into their neighbors' houses to annoythem. "

"Children are usually more trouble among strangers than at home, " Mrs. Allen remarked. 

Then Charlie Seaton said, "Willie Danforth told him it was alwayssquealing when he passed Mr. Salsify's, which was several times a day, on his way to and from the seminary; and he thought they kept a pig intheir parlor, till one day he saw the baby's face at the window, anddiscovered the sounds proceeded from its noisy throat. "

"How happens it that Willie Danforth goes to school at the seminary, when his mother is so poor?" asked Miss Pinkerton. 

"Willie says his mother found a paper on her door-sill one morning, "answered Charlie, "and on opening it several bank-notes fell out. On thepaper was written, 'Use these for William's tuition at the seminary. ' Sohe is going to school till the money is spent. "

"Well, I declare, " said Miss Martha, "that was a strange incident. DoesMrs. Danforth know who left the money?"

"She thinks it was the same one who leaves little bundles of sticks ather door, every now and then, " answered Charlie. 

"Well, who is that?" inquired Miss P. 

"O, she don't know, " returned the lad. 

"I am glad some kind soul remembers the poor widow, " said Mrs. Allen;"for I have often feared many of us were too neglectful of the lonewoman. "

"You know, wife, " said the deacon, "what sad reports we heard of herhypocrisy; how she assumed an appearance of extreme poverty to createsympathy and wheedle people into deeds of false benevolence. I do notthink such sinfulness should be countenanced. "

"I know such reports were spread abroad concerning her, " remarked Mrs. Stanhope; "but I never could trace them to any other source than thatranting, blustering Mrs. Pimble. "

"What! that brawling, fanatical, crazy-pated, man-woman?" exclaimed thedeacon, vehemently; "pray, don't mention her. The wrath of God will fallupon her and all the guilty brood who have desecrated His sanctuary, bytearing down its curtains and converting them into garments to serveSatan in. " The excitable deacon was waxing warm, when his wife gave hima conjugal nudge, and he held his peace. 

 CHAPTER XXIII. 

 "From the hour by him enchanted, From the moment when we met; Henceforth by one image haunted, Life may never more forget. All my nature changed--his being Seemed the only source of mine. Fond heart, hadst thou no foreseeing Thy sad future to divine?"

Florence Howard sat in a deep-cushioned fauteuil, beside a marble tablewhich graced the centre of the elegant apartment she called her own. Aloose robe, of India cashmere, in superb colors, with a lining of thesoftest, rose-colored velvet, was folded carelessly about her gracefulform. One white hand toyed with the luxuriant chestnut curls, that hungin beautiful profusion over her shoulders; the other rested lightly onthe cushioned arm of the chair. A quantity of rich writing materialswere spread out on the table before her; but she glanced towards themlistlessly, and at length bowed her queenly head between her hands, andsat a long time still and silent, as if absorbed in reverie. Ever andanon her little foot tapped impatiently the soft carpet beneath it, asthough some harassing, unpleasant vision disturbed her brain. The clear, ringing chimes of the college clock finally aroused her toconsciousness. 

Rising, she drew aside the heavy folds of the damask curtain, and gazedfor a moment forth on the sleeping earth. The stars were bright, and aslender crescent rim hung just above the dark cedar forest that sweptand swayed to the northward. Florence dropped the curtain, and, returning to the table, opened a large morocco-bound volume, whichrevealed a virgin page. Twirling the silver top from a carved, mosaicinkstand, she dipped the golden tips of a pearl-handled pen in its eboncontents, and holding it between her small, taper fingers, rested herarm a few moments on the stand, as if waiting for her thoughts to formand arrange themselves ere she gave them expression. Suddenly the pendashed off, and line after line of graceful characters grew on the pure, white page till it was completely filled. 

"I have looked out on the midnight, " she wrote, "with all its countlessdiamonds blazing on its brow; and far on the verge of the northernhorizon hung the pale disc of the young crescent moon hurrying toobscure itself behind the dark, gloomy forest, --like as my hopes failwhen I turn my eyes toward those cedar-tops. O, earth, how soon thychildren learn the lesson of sorrow and distrust! But where is my oldpen taking me this evening? This journal grows a sad, ghostly thing, o'ersplashed with tears, and wo-fraught to the edges. 

"To turn the subject: What have I done to-day? Moped dismally tillevening, and then muffled myself in furs; sat down among cushions andbuffalo robes in the omnibus-sleigh, beside ----, shall I write it? yes!beside Rufus Malcome, and dashed away over the snow-clad earth to themusic of merry bells and merrier voices around me. 

"How finely Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet enjoyed themselves! Iunderstood their happiness well. Mrs. Edson was not quite so buoyantwith spirits as usual; but she conversed with Rufus in her charmingstyle. I was quite indignant to hear so much eloquence and refinementwasted on a churl like him, and just malicious enough to think the fairspeaker would have preferred to say her pretty things in the ear of onewho could have better appreciated their worth and beauty, namely, Col. Malcome. He is really a splendid man, though I hardly relish the powerhe seems to exercise over father, who is so infatuated with him Ibelieve he would scarcely be able to refuse any request he might chooseto make. I wonder so talented a father should own a dolt like Rufus fora son. Silly-pated fellow! he has made love to me several times. I say_made_ it, and truthfully; for no such simpleton as he could everactually _feel_ it in their bosoms. But then, no doubt, he thinks he isin love, --desperately so. I have no pity for him; nothing but contempt, and yet, should he propose for me to my father, I fear the result wouldbe his acceptance. He has wealth and position, and I know father has asuspicion that I have yet a lingering recollection of the hermit's boy, as he calls Edgar. O, name of all others! Have I dared write it in fullon these pages? I must draw an obscuring line over it. There! Now, 'One last, long sigh to hope and love, Then back to busy life again. '"

While Florence was occupied with her journal in the room above, Col. Malcome sat with her father in the parlor below, and that which she hadfeared might some time come to pass had actually occurred; and when shenestled down on her soft pillow and sank to sleep, if her slumbers werenot tranquil and dreamless, they were sweeter than any she might knowfor many a weary night to come; for she slept in blissful ignorance thatshe was the affianced bride of Rufus Malcome. Early on the followingmorning her father imparted to her the dismal intelligence. 

"I have accepted him, " said Major Howard, "on the conditions that theengagement shall remain a secret between the families, and the union notbe consummated for at least one year, as you are both young. Col. Malcome will give his son fifty thousand dollars on his marriage, andalso a splendid situation wherever he chooses to reside. "

He ceased, and Florence remained silent and abstracted. 

"This will be a match suitable for my daughter, " said the fond father, approaching and laying his hand affectionately on her bowed head. "Doesshe not agree with me?"

Florence lifted her face; the light seemed suddenly to have gone out ofher eyes and left them in utter darkness. No tinge of color glowed onher features, which worked with painful and scarcely suppressed emotion. The father started back on beholding her. "My child!" he exclaimed, "what is the matter?"

"Leave me alone, father, I entreat of you!" she said. 

"Not till you tell me what is distressing you so, " said he, chafing hercold hands in his. "Is this engagement so repulsive, so averse to yourfeelings, as to cause this appearance of agony and distress?"

But she only said, "Leave me, dear father, I entreat you, for a while! Ihave a sudden illness. By and by I will speak to you. "

Awed by her tone and manner, the fond father obeyed. An hour passed by, during which the grief-stricken girl never moved, when the door opened, and Hannah Doliver entered. She glowered on Florence with an expressionof hate and gratified revenge, which changed to one of fawning fondnesswhen the pale, tear-stained face was turned toward her. "Pray, don't sithere in the cold all day!" said she. "Your mother desires you to come toher. "

Florence wrapped her rich dressing-gown around her, stole down thestairs and entered the apartment of the invalid, who reached her wastedarm from the bed as she approached, and clasped it round the slender, graceful waist. The young girl bowed her head on the pillow, and burstinto tears. 

 CHAPTER XXIV. 

 "He held a letter in his withered hand Which brought good tidings of the absent one. O, what soul-cheering things are letters, when They come fresh from the hand of one we love, All brimming o'er with kindly-uttered words!"

The wailing winds swept onward with low and piteous sound, while the"Hermit of the Cedars" sat beneath his humble roof, beside a roughtable, and, by the light of a tallow candle, pored over aclosely-written page. In the recess of the small window, a bright-hairedboy was sitting, very like the dreamy Edgar who sat there in summers andseasons passed by, and watched the stars gleaming, like showers ofdiamonds, through the interlacing forest-boughs. But it was not Edgar, for he was far away, storing his mind from the mines of ancient lore. 

It was our little friend, Willie Danforth, the washerwoman's boy, forwhom the hermit had taken a large fancy since Edgar left him, and oftencoaxed him from his mother to pass a few nights at the hut in theforest. Willie, as we see him now, in the place where we were wont tobehold Edgar, is certainly wonderfully like him; and so thought FlorenceHoward, when she saw the tall, graceful youth, in the same morocco capand blue frock coat Edgar used to wear, wending his way past herfather's mansion to the seminary on the hill. She sought to learn hisname; and some person, not very well informed, said 'twas WilliamGreyson, another foundling of that strange hermit's. 

But we wander from the lonely man, who still pores over the sheet heholds in his attenuated fingers. It is a letter from Edgar Lindenwood. 

"Dear, dear uncle, " it runs, "gladly I turn from musty tomes of oldentime lore, to give to you the star-lit midnight hour. Fancy, on airypinions, flits away over mountain-top and valley, and rests upon thatlong arm of the tall linden, that stretches close to your lowly window, and gazes through the narrow panes on your dear form, bending over sometreasured volume, or sitting, with bowed head, before a blazing fire, lost in reveries of thought and contemplation. You express a fear that Imay have deemed you arbitrary and severe in the control sometimesexercised over my humors and inclinations. Your fear is groundless, uncle. Though some of your commands may have cost me a struggle ere Icould unmurmuringly obey, I have too high an estimate of your judgmentand discrimination to rebel against an authority I feel is grounded inreason, and only exercised for my benefit and welfare in future life. 

"I remember a tale, my mother oft breathed in my infantine ears, of abright star that once skirted the literary horizon, and ere long darklydisappeared; of a lofty, sensitive nature, that met a staggering blow, and reeled to earth, no more to soar aloft. And, though I have neverknown the details of that early disappointment, I regard, withoverflowing reverence, sympathy, and devotional affection, the suffering, uncomplaining heart that struggles silently on, with its wreck ofyouthful hopes and aspirations. 

"Shall I tell you, uncle, my university life promises to be a brief one?You will think it augurs badly for the erudition of the faculty of thisinstitution, when I inform you that they have placed me among the seniorclass, which will graduate in the coming spring. Then I propose to take abrief tour of travel, and amuse myself by sketching from the beautifulscenery of this country. I find the passion for art increases with myyears. Once I wished to be a poet, but now the painter's pencil yields memost delight. 

"Ere long I hope to return to that home among the Cedars, and sit down toquiet evenings by my dear uncle's side, with no sound in our ears savethe eternal roar of the mighty forest winds. 

"Far from experiencing a jealous pang, I rejoice to learn you have foundan object of interest in the youth you have taken under your care. May heprove a grateful companion to your solitude, is the sincere wish of, Yours, most truly, EDGAR. "

Such were the contents of the letter which the hermit perused severaltimes ere he folded it, and turned his attention to the boy, who wasstill sitting by the small window, gazing forth into the windy night. 

"William, " said he--and the lad approached. 

Something seemed trembling on the thin lips of the recluse which hehesitated to reveal. At length, as if suddenly changing his purpose, hesaid: "Do you think your mother is comfortable, to-night, my boy?"

"O, yes, sir!" answered Willie, "the large bundle of sticks you left ather door yesterday evening will keep her warm for several days. "

"I hope they may, " returned the hermit; "'tis a sad thing to be poor, Willie, but 'tis a sadder thing to be wicked. "

"You do not think my mother is wicked, do you?" asked the boy, turninghis blue eyes quickly on the hermit's countenance. 

"Why do you ask?" said he, returning Willie's startled glance with agrave smile. 

"Because I knew Mr. Pimble's folks said harsh things of her, and Ididn't know but you believed them, as you never chose to enter ourhumble abode. "

"My gloomy disposition is averse to intercourse with the generality ofmy species, " returned the hermit, in a solemn tone; "nor do I ever heedor hear the tales and gossipings of idle lips. In the last ten years Ihave held no converse with any human beings, save you and your ---- andmy nephew, Edgar Lindenwood. "

Willie gazed on the strange man before him in silent awe. "Has yourmother ever expressed a wish to see me?" inquired the hermit, after apause. 

"Often, " said Willie. 

"For what purpose?" demanded the recluse, in a quick, sudden tone, looking eagerly on the boy's face. 

"To thank you for all your kindness to her, " replied the lad, ingenuously. 

"O, yes!" returned the solitary man, his features relapsing into theirusual placid serenity. "I wish not, nor deserve, her thanks for thehumble charities given. Let us seek our couch, my boy. "

"Have you another name than William?" he asked, as they were lying down. 

"Yes, " answered the youth; "William Ralph is my name, --the first for myfather, the second for an uncle who went to distant countries, ere I canremember, and has never been heard of since. "

"Was the uncle your father's or mother's brother?" inquired the hermit, in a careless tone. 

"My mother's. Ralph Greyson was his name. "

"And does your mother appear to mourn his loss, or wish for his return?"said the hermit, still in the same careless, half-absorbed tone ofvoice. 

"She speaks pityingly of him sometimes, for he was a bright, promisingyouth, she says, when one distressful circumstance crushed his hopes andruined his usefulness; but I do not think she desires his return, for heleft his native shores cursing her as the cause of his misfortunes. "

"Ah! how had she caused his misfortunes?" asked the hermit, drowsily. 

"By marrying below her sphere, " said Willie, in a trembling, embarrassedtone; "a man who proved a vulgar sot, and thus disgracing him in theeyes of a proud family, with whom he sought an alliance. "

As Willie ceased speaking, the hermit breathed heavily, as if in deepsleep; so, turning his face to the cedar-plaited wall, the lad was soonwrapped in his own sweet, youthful slumbers. 

 CHAPTER XXV. 

 "Wasting away--away--away, Slowly, silently, day after day. Fainter, and fainter and fainter the flow, Of the current of life more sluggish and slow, And a ghastly glare in the glassy eye, And the wan cheek tinged with a hectic dye. "

In the dim gloom of a soft spring evening, a slender, graceful form bentsilently over a low, curtained couch, gently fanning the annoyinginsects from the pale brow of its slumbering occupant. The apartment wasfurnished with almost princely magnificence. Curtains of the richestblue-wrought damask, hung in massy folds from ceiling to floor, beforethe deep bay-windows. Rosewood sofas and fauteuils, in costly coveringsof the same soft color, rested on the brilliantly interwoven flowers ofthe Persian carpet, whose velvety softness echoed not the slightesttread. A fairy chandelier hung suspended from the lofty, cornicedceiling. Rare statuary decorated the mantel. Large mirrors and picturesin broad gilt frames adorned the walls. Marble stands, covered withdeep-fringed cloths of gold, on which lay books in superb bindings, graced the several corners, and the carved mahogany bedstead, behindwhose ample curtains of azure velvet the sleeper reposed, amongwhite-piled cushions of softest down, vied in elegant luxury with thecouch of an eastern princess. And there, with one white, wasted armthrown above the head, all shorn of its bright wealth of auburn curls, and the other concealed 'neath the silken coverings, lay Edith Malcome, the blue veins almost starting from her pale brow, and a bright crimsonspot on the sunken cheek. Alas, that earth's most lovely should fall theearliest victims to the withering hand of disease! The door did softlyasunder, and her father entered. With an expression of deep care andsuffering depicted on his handsome features, he approached the bed-side. 

"Is she still sleeping?" demanded he, in a whisper which would have beeninaudible to an ear less quick than that of the silent watcher. 

"She is, " was the ready answer, in the same hushed tone. He gazedintently for several moments on the attenuated form before him, whileevery variety of expression passed over his countenance. 

"If she dies, " said he, at length, in a voice broken with grief, "whatwill be left on earth to me?"

The watcher was deeply affected by his grief-stricken appearance. "O, speak not thus!" she said, bursting into tears. "She will not die; thedoctor has given us better hopes to-day. But even if she were to betaken to her home in the skies, you must not say there's nothing left onearth for you. You, so bright in soul and intellect, surrounded byadmiring friends and all the luxuries of princely wealth, with a son toperpetuate your name"----

"Say no more, " interrupted the afflicted man. "I cannot endure yourwords. "

Louise was grieved to see she had only wounded where she meant tosoothe, and, with a gentle, impulsive movement, placed her hand on thesoft black curls of the head that was bowed among the cushions of thebed, and said, "Forgive me, I meant not to afflict. "

Silently he took the little hand in his, and placed it on his throbbingtemples. Louise trembled. 

"Your brow is feverish, " said she at length, seeking an excuse towithdraw the imprisoned hand; "let me bathe it in some cooling lotion. "

"No, " said he, "this moist little palm is better than any lotion, " stilldetaining it, as she sought to reach the stand which contained aquantity of vials on a silver tray. The slight movements aroused Edith. Opening her large, spiritual eyes, she gazed up in the faces of thewatchers at her bed-side, with a vague, dreamy expression. 

"Don't you know me, Edith?" asked her father, bending quickly over her. 

"O, yes, father!" answered she faintly; "and that lady is my mother, "she added, staring confusedly upon Louise, as if not yet in fullpossession of her waking faculties. 

Louise looked embarrassed, and the colonel hastened to say, "That isMrs. Edson, my dear, who watches with you to-night. You are wandering alittle, I fear. "

"Well, where is my mother, then?" continued Edith, in the same strangemanner, which appeared to agitate her father deeply. 

"My child, " said he, in a soothing tone, "have I not often told you yourmother died when you was a very little girl?"

"I don't know, " said Edith, "but last night I dreamed she came with apale face and bloody lips and stared so mournfully upon me. I wish youwould go and bring her to me, father. "

"My daughter, do I not tell you she is in her grave?" said the father, trembling with emotion. "How can I bring her to you?"

"Hannah Doliver told Rufus she would come if you would let her, "continued the sick girl, in a reproachful tone, apparently notunderstanding her father's words. 

On hearing this, Col. Malcome started with a violent exclamation, whichalarmed Edith, and brought her at once into full possession of hersenses. Louise, who had marked, with her quick eye, the colonel'sstrange excitement, approached and administered a reviving cordial tothe invalid. The father soon retired, leaving the watcher alone with hercharge. 

As the hours dragged slowly on, many were the thoughts which passedthrough Mrs. Edson's active brain, as to the cause of Edith's singularwords, and the anger and excitement evinced by her father. At length thegray morning dawned, and Sylva, Edith's attendant, appeared to relievethe watcher from her post. 

As Louise was passing through the hall to gain the street, the doorsuddenly opened, and Col. Malcome entered in cap and overcoat. He pausedand inquired if his daughter had passed a comfortable night, and, onreceiving an affirmative answer, proceeded to the drawing-room. 

 CHAPTER XXVI. 

 "The old days we remember; How softly did they glide! While, all untouched by worldly care, We wandered side by side. In those pleasant days, when the sun's last rays Just lingered on the hill; Or the moon's pale light, with the coming night, Shone o'er our pathway still. 

 "The old days we remember, O, there's nothing like them now! The glow has faded from our hearts, The blossom from the bough. A bitter sigh for the hours gone by, The dreams that might not last; The friends deemed true when our hopes were new, And the glorious visions past. "

Rufus Malcome, as the accepted suitor of Florence, paid regular visitsto her father's mansion. Great was the glee of Hannah Doliver to beholdthe young couple together; and great the nervous disquiet evinced by theinvalided Mrs. Howard when she was aware of the young man's presence inthe house. She had never met him, as her health, which had in the lastsix months rapidly declined, confined her now entirely to her room, andindisposed her more strongly than ever to behold strange faces. 

The only person she had ever been known to express a wish to see, sinceher residence in Wimbledon, was Edith Malcome, --a wish excited, perhaps, by Florence's warm praises of the grace and beauty of her young friend, who was as different from Rufus, she said, "as a sweet pink from anodious poppy. "

But Edith, strange as it may appear, had never visited at the Howards', though often warmly invited by the whole family. 

The colonel invariably excused her in his easy, graceful manner, sayingshe was "a timid little thing, and dreaded to go for a moment from herfather's side. " Latterly, her illness had been sufficient reason for herseclusion. 

Florence was restricted from frequent visits to her sick friend by thestate of her own health, which had grown so feeble and delicate as toalarm her father exceedingly. Dr. Potipher was consulted, and stronglyadvised travel and change of scene as the most effectual remedy for thefeverish disease that seemed preying upon her constitution. 

Major Howard was very willing to take his daughter on a tour of travel, but knew not how to leave his invalid lady, whose strength he thought tobe gradually failing. She was far too low for him to indulge the idea ofmaking her one of the party, and he was about relinquishing the projectin despair, when, on mentioning the subject to the sick woman, great washis surprise to find her even more anxious and earnest for his departurethan he was to go. She said "she should do very well without him, --shealways mended as summer approached, and Florence was drooping from longand close confinement. She needed exercise and change of scene, and itwas his duty to do all in his power to restore her to health andcheerfulness. " Major Howard felt the only obstacle removed by theinvalid's assent and hearty coöperation; so Florence was informed of theproject, and preparations immediately commenced for her tour. 

It was a pleasant April evening as she sat in her luxurious apartmentwith her journal open before her. "The last of these bright springevenings that I am to pass at home is closing in around me, " she wrote. "My trunks are packed and closed down, and to-morrow I am to start on atour of travel. How my long torpid bosom bounds at the thought! I shallsail up that picturesque Hudson! I shall look on glorious Niagara! But Ifear my anticipations are too brilliant. Something will occur to dreg myexpected draught of happiness with sorrow. Thus it has ever been! Toowell I know I shall return to become the bride of one I detest; but Iwill not let that thought embitter my enjoyment of the wonders andbeauties I shall behold. Besides, in so long a time as I shall beabsent, what may occur? Ah, I have written words that make me shudder! Ifear I may return to find the snows covering my mother's grave. Why do Ileave her? Is it not selfishness to allow her to urge me away when it isher own generous care and affection for me which prompt her to do so?There is something strange in the way she speaks of my matrimonialengagement. I am sure it does not meet her approval, though she gave herconsent, as she always does to everything upon which father sets hismind. She evidently dreads its consummation, perhaps because she hasdiscovered my aversion for the man I am to marry. As to Hannah Doliver, she is wonderfully mollified toward me of late; but her fawning fondnessis more intolerable than her asperity and impertinence. Nothing seems todelight her so much as to behold Rufus Malcome in company with me. Icaught her watching at the parlor-door this evening when he called incompany with his father to leave his adieus. She accompanied them to thedoor and remained several minutes in conversation in the hall. I foundher in the kitchen a short time after, and she was muttering to herselfand slamming things about in a great rage. When she discovered me sheceased, and grew suddenly as sunny as summer. She is a strange, dark, intriguing woman, I fear, and wish we were well quit of her. I askedmother if she had not better discharge her, and get a new person toattend her during our absence; but she said, with a sudden expression ofalarm, 'O, no; she would not part with Hannah on any account!' So I saidno more, but fancied her preference was dictated more by fear than love. But I spin out a long record for this last evening at home. O, buddingvines and flowers! who will train your rich luxuriance into fairy, fantastic clusterings, or watch your opening petals in the summer whichis to come? Who listen to the babbling fountains, or roam the cedar-walksthat border the dancing river? And O, the far, far-stretching forest, from whose mysterious depths, in a bright year passed away, I saw _him_emerge, and hurried down the gravelled path to meet him at thegarden-gate, with happy, bounding heart! Will new scenes, however gladand gay, e'er dim the memory of those dear times? Never!"

 CHAPTER XXVII. 

 "It is a pleasant thing to roam abroad, And gaze on scenes and objects strange and grand; To sail in mighty ships o'er distant seas, And roam the mountains of a foreign land. "

In Mrs. Stanhope's pretty cottage, close by the vine-shaded window, satJenny Andrews, and she said Florence Howard had started on a tour oftravel. 

"Who is her companion?" asked Mrs. Stanhope. 

"Why, Rufus Malcome, of course, " said Miss Pinkerton, quickly. 

"No, " said Jenny, "her father. "

"Her father!" exclaimed Miss Martha, in a tone of surprise. "How in theworld could he leave his sick wife, I should like to know?"

"Mrs. Howard is getting better, I believe, " remarked Jenny. 

"Well, that's strange enough, " continued Miss Pinkerton; "with thatimpudent Hannah Doliver for a nurse, I wonder she has not died beforenow. "

Hannah Doliver was Miss Martha's utter detestation, though why, wecannot tell, as the little dark woman had never injured her, nor hadMiss Pinkerton ever exchanged above a dozen syllables with her in herlife. But it was one of those unaccountable dislikes which often arisein people of certain temperaments, on first sight of a particularindividual. 

Mrs. Stanhope said she was glad Florence had gone a journey, for thedear girl had looked pale and sickly of late, and she thought change ofscene might be beneficial to her health. 

Miss Martha inquired if Jenny knew how Edith Malcome was getting along. 

"I have just come from her, " said Jenny; "she is very much changed. Allher beautiful hair has been cut away, and she is, O, so thin and wasted!But they call her slowly improving. "

"Who takes care of her?" asked Miss P. 

"Her waiting-woman, Sylva, I believe, " returned Jenny. 

"Well, it must be very hard for her to do it all the time, " said Martha;"if they would just ask me, I would go any time and assist them. "

"Mrs. Edson is there considerable, " remarked Jenny. 

"I know she is; most too much for her credit, " returned Miss Pinkerton;"if a man has a wife, he wants her at home sometimes. "

"Why, Martha!" observed Mrs. Stanhope, mildly; "I never heard areproachful word of Mrs. Edson breathed by any person. "

"Neither did I, " said Jenny, rising; "and if I do, I shan't believe it, for I think she is the dearest, sweetest creature in the world. "

"With the exception of one Mr. Richard Giblet, " remarked Miss Pinkerton, in a tone she conceived to be vastly witty and piquant. 

Jenny's blush, as she bade good-morning, crowned the malicious maiden'striumph. 

On this same morning, Mrs. Edson sat at her elegant rosewood piano, carelessly striking the ivory keys, when she heard a light footstep, andturning, beheld Col. Malcome advancing to her side. She was a littleangry that he had entered unannounced, and her cheeks flushed, as sherather briefly bade him welcome. 

"I beg your pardon for entering so informally, " said he, at onceinterpreting the expression of her face. "Your doors were all ajar, andI saw no one to announce me. "

"Had you rung, some one would have appeared, " said Louise, with a slightcurl of her red lip. 

"Well, I beg your pardon for not doing so, " returned he. "Will you grantit?"

There was something in the rueful appearance he assumed, which forcedher to laugh in spite of her efforts at dignity and restraint, and thushe was reinstated in her good graces. 

"Are you playing?" he asked, touching his own fingers upon the keys, butat a respectful distance from hers. 

"No, " she returned. "I have practised so little of late I have lost allmy ear. Won't you favor me with that thrilling piece from Beethoven, youperformed on the first evening of our acquaintance?" She looked eagerlyin his face as she spoke. 

"What will you do for me if I will?" he asked. 

"O, anything in my power!" she replied, rising, and motioning him toassume the music-stool, which he did very readily. Skilfully runningover the keys, by way of prelude, while she stood leaning gracefullyagainst the instrument, intently regarding his movements, he commencedthe symphony. The swelling notes rose on the air in brilliant variety, and when, at the end of the second chorus, the rich, mellow tones of hisvoice were added, Louise dropped on her knees beside the performer, while tears gathered in her eyes and rolled over her beautiful face. Hedid not seem to heed her position, so intently was his soul occupiedwith the music his lips were breathing. At length the last magic straindied mournfully away. Then he rested his deep blue eyes calmly on herglowing features. 

"What shall I do for you?" she asked, smiling. 

"You promised, " answered he, "to do anything I wished, if I would singthe piece. "

"So I will, " returned she, earnestly. 

"Then, " said he, in a low, thrilling tone, "as Steerforth said to David, think of me at my best. "

She looked at him eagerly. "Is that all?" she asked. 

"That is enough, " he answered; "will you promise _always_ to do that?"

She paused a few moments, and then answered, in a tone which indicatedher whole soul spoke in the words, "Yes, I promise. "

"Thank you, " said he, extending his hand. 

She gave him hers. He held it a moment in his own. Then, pressing itrespectfully to his lips, bade her good-morning, and retired. 

 CHAPTER XXVIII. 

 "And when in other climes we meet, Some isle or vale enchanting, And all looks flowery, wild and sweet, And naught but love is wanting, We think how blest had been our fate, If Heaven had but assigned us To live and die 'mid scenes like this, With some we've left behind us. "

Shout, reader, on the hill-tops of deliverance, for you and I are out ofWimbledon. We have left behind us the Pimbles, the Mumbles, the Simcoes, and their multitudinous voices grow indistinct in the distance, as, borne by the rushing steam-steed, we fly on our way in search of ourfair traveller, who has got the start of us by several hours. We hardlyknow whether to go up the Hudson, or hold straight on over the Erie roadfor Niagara; but as we have no particular desire to see the former, ourremembrances of its picturesque scenery being marred by the unpleasantcircumstances under which we first beheld it, we incline to the lattercourse. 

So world-wondered-at Niagara shall be our destination, where FlorenceHoward and her father are already arrived and installed occupants of aregally-furnished suite of apartments at the Clifton House on the Canadaside of the river. 

The new arrival had created quite a sensation; as new arrivals at thesefashionable watering-places, where the masses resort to displaythemselves and behold and comment upon the display of others, always do. As Florence, dressed with simple grace, leaned on the arm of hernoble-looking father, and entered the spacious dining-saloon, wherehundreds of both sexes, all flaunted out in the gayest and richestattire, were already seated at the splendidly laid tables, every eyelevelled a critical glance on her garb and figure. Many an elegant lady, in startling silks and astonishing ear-jewels, turned her nose sublimelyskyward and exclaimed "No great fetch, --these folks!" Gentlemen, insurprising pants and prodigious vest buttons, said, with a princelycontempt, "Aw, an unsawphistawcated country gawl!"

But there were some, the precious few, who graced the saloons of theClifton House, not to gorge themselves on its spicy viands, or growinebriate over its sparkling wines, or yet to display their spindlinglimbs encased in miraculous tights, their alarming waistcoats andelephantine fob-chains; but who had come to look on and admire thewonderful cataract, with its surrounding scenery of wildness andgrandeur; who marked the elegant bearing of an accomplished lady in thesweet open countenance, simple dress, and graceful movements of the "newarrival. "

Florence seemed wholly regardless of the volleys of glances directedtoward her during the sumptuously-served dinner. She retired beforedessert, so great was her impatience of a nearer view of the sublimespectacle visible from the piazzas of the Clifton House. 

On Table Rock she stood, with her father's arm cast protectingly aroundher, and gazed, tremulous with intense emotion, on the tremendous sweepof rushing waters over the mighty horse-shoe fall, down, down forever, upon the floods that boiled and surged like fathomless seas of angryfoam in the depths below. Then she turned to the lofty American fall, spanned by its brilliant rainbow, like the bright wing of the Spirit ofthe Waters cast beauteously o'er her stupendous creation of power andsublimity. 

Florence gazed till the shades of evening obscured the magnificentscene, and then, clinging to her father's arm, returned to the hotel. Ongaining her room, she tossed off her bonnet and shawl and seized herjournal. 

"Are you not going to tea?" asked her father. 

"No, " answered she, almost sharply. "I cannot so suddenly descend to theactual, or come in so quick contact with the grossness of earth afterthe god-like sublimity I have been contemplating. "

Her father called her a little enthusiast, and walked away. Left toherself she drew forth her journal. 

"Eventful day!" she wrote. "I have stood among the mists of Niagara. Fain would I voice the tumult flood of emotions that rushed over my soulas I gazed on its wondrous sublimity: but language is impotent, and I amweak, --weaker than usual; I think from reaction of my overstrainedpowers. 

"I could lie down and weep like a tired child. The tremendous roar ofthe mighty waters is in my ear as I write. O, Niagara, Niagara! whathenceforth will be to me the brightest scene our country can afford--forI have looked on thee, and what is left me now?"

She closed her book, and, stepping out on the piazza, leaned her armsover the balustrade, and stood with her gaze riveted on the boilingcataracts, now flashing like sheets of burnished silver in the softmoonlight. While she was thus occupied a young lady approached andaccosted her. 

"You are just arrived at the Falls, I fancy, " said she, with a pleasantsmile. 

"I arrived to-day, " answered Florence, politely. 

"You do not know me, " remarked the young lady; "but I think I have seenyou before. "

Florence gazed on the eloquent features, but she did not detect aresemblance to any person she had ever known. 

"You have the advantage of me, " she said; "I do not recollect you. "

"Probably not, " returned the young lady; "but did you never reside in avillage called Wimbledon, at a beautiful mansion styled 'Summer House?'"

"I have just come from there, " said Florence, gazing with surprise inthe face of her fair interrogator. 

"So I thought, " remarked the young lady, "and your name, excuse myboldness, is Florence Howard. Mine is Ellen Williams. I once resided inWimbledon, and saw you several times at the village church. You, probably, did not notice me, or, if you did, my features would be easilyforgotten. Not so yours. I recognized you the moment you entered thedining hall. How do you like Niagara?"

"O, I am charmed, spell-bound!" exclaimed Florence. "Its glorioussublimity thrills to the centre of my soul. "

"Your enthusiasm reminds me of a young painter and poet we have had hereseveral weeks, " said Miss Williams; "he left us only this morning. I wasdown to the Suspension Bridge to-day, and read some verses he left inpencil on the painted railings. His sketches of the Falls from differentpoints of view were very fine. He was very handsome, and had a sweetname. I believe half the ladies were dead in love with him, but he neverbestowed a single encouraging glance on all their attempts to win hisfavor. "

"Quite an insensible young man, I should think, " said Florence, smiling. "What did you say was his name?"

"Lindenwood, " returned Miss Williams. "I do not know whence he came, butfrom some remote part of the country, I think. "

Florence heard none of the young lady's words after the name wasmentioned, and it is difficult to say into what awkwardness her emotionmight have betrayed her, had not her father appeared at this junctureand called her to her room. She recollected herself sufficiently to bidgood-evening to Miss Williams as she hastened away leaning heavily onher father's arm. 

Fastening her door, she dropped on a sofa, and exclaimed, "Alas, alas!one day too late at Niagara. "

 CHAPTER XXIX. 

 "Flow on forever in thy glorious robe Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on, Unfathomed and resistless! God hath set His rainbow on thy forehead, and the cloud Mantled around thy feet. Methinks, to tint Thy glorious features with our pencil's point, Or woo thee to the tablet of a song, Were profanation. "

Early the following morning Florence was astir, begging her father totake her to the Suspension Bridge. She hardly glanced at the magnificentappearance of the Canada fall, as the sunbeams changed its floods ofspray into bright showers of diamonds. 

There she stood on the piazza, her cheeks flushed with vermilion, andher dark eyes glowing with the animation and excitement within. 

"I cannot take you to the bridge till after breakfast, " said her father, in reply to her urgent appeals to set out immediately. 

"Must I wait so long?" said Florence dismally. 

While the father and daughter stood debating the point, Florence'sacquaintance of the preceding day appeared, attended by a handsome youngman, whom she introduced as her brother Edward. 

Major Howard recollected the Williams family, and seemed gratified torenew his acquaintance. 

"Col. Malcome occupies your old residence, " said he to the young man, asthey left the ladies to themselves and walked to the opposite side ofthe piazza. 

After a pause, Florence asked her companion if she "had ever visitedWimbledon since she left it. "

"No;" answered the young lady, "though I have often desired to do so. There was a poor washerwoman there, who had a little boy about my ownage, in whom I took a childish interest, and I would like much to learnsomething of his fate. "

"What was his name?" asked Florence. 

"Willie Danforth, " said Miss Williams. 

"I know a washerwoman by the name of Dilly Danforth, " returned Florence. 

"That is his mother. "

"I do not think she has a child, " said Florence doubtfully. 

"Then he is dead!" said Miss Williams in a trembling voice. 

Florence pitied her emotion, and after a few moments said, "There is atall, graceful lad, I think they call Willie Greyson, who lives with thestrange forest-recluse, of whom you have heard, perhaps. "

"Greyson!" repeated Ellen; "that I have heard was Mrs. Danforth's maidenname; but Willie was never called so; besides, why should he leave hismother to dwell with a hermit? O, no; my Willie must be dead! I said, when I left him, I should never see him again. " And the gentle girlwiped a tear from her sweet blue eye. 

The gentlemen now approached, and Major Howard invited the Williamses tojoin them in their visit to the Suspension Bridge; but they had anengagement with a party to visit Goat Island. Florence felt relieved tohear this, for she preferred, for reasons of her own, to be attended byno one but her father on the present excursion. They now descended tothe dining-hall, where an elegant breakfast was served. Florence ate buta few tiny bits of a delicate crisp muffin, and sipped lightly at hercup of fragrant Mocha. Her eager desire to gain the bridge destroyed allrelish for the dainty dishes spread in such variety and profusion beforeher. At length her father announced a carriage in readiness. Hastilyfolding a sheet of note-paper, and placing it in her pocket, she swungher gold chain over her neck, to which was attached a richly-embossedpencil, and followed him to the door. They were soon rolling away. 

Florence saw nothing till they gained the bridge, --frail, tremblingthing, thrown at such dizzy height above the wild, rushing river. Herfather asked if she would ride or walk over. She would walk, and heordered the driver to halt. Assisting her from the carriage, theystepped upon the swaying fabric. Florence kept close to the railings, though he cautioned her to walk in the centre, and called her attentionto the fine view of the falls in the distance. But she did not noticethem, and, pausing suddenly, drew the sheet of note-paper from herpocket and commenced writing. 

"What are you doing?" said her father at length, noticing her head bowedclose to the railing. 

"Wait a moment and I'll tell you, " said she. "There! I believe I havethem all correct now. Shall I read them to you?"

"What are they?" asked he. 

"Verses. I found them written in pencil on this painted strip. "

"Are they worth reading?" inquired he, carelessly. 

"O, yes!" she returned, earnestly. "Very pretty, I think!"

"Well, go on, then!" said he. 

She commenced in a low tone, which grew in depth and sweetness as sheproceeded. Surely, if the author had never had the vanity to deem hisbrief production possessed of merit, he would have grown into conceit ofit had he heard it falling so sweetly from those half-tremulous lips. 

 "Sea-green river, white and foamy, Madly rushing on below; While that fairy-looking fabric Bends, and sways, and trembles so; Fragile, frail and fairy fabric, Boldly thrown so wildly high; Wondrous work of art suspended Midway 'twixt the earth and sky!

 "Strong and firm the metal wires Stretch to Canada's green shores; As to link with bands of iron Queen Victoria's realms to ours. Passage-way for England's lion, Unborn ages may it be; While above him, in the ether, Sails the Eagle of the Free!

 "In the distance, dread Niagara, Thing of wonder and of fear, Pours its mighty flood of waters, While the echoes soothe the ear. Nature's wildest forms of beauty. All around profusely thrown; Bowing in her proudest temple, Beggared Art, we humbly own!"

As Florence ceased she refolded the paper and placed it in her pocket. 

"You did not read the author's name, " said her father. 

"There was no name attached to them, " answered she. "Nothing, only someinitials which were rather indistinct. "

"Some modest bard, " remarked the major, as they retraced their steps tothe carriage, "who, as Byron says, 'Like many a bard unknown, Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own. '

This poet sings of bridges, but does not sign his name to his songs. "

Florence was silent during their drive to the hotel. Niagara seemedsuddenly to have lost its interest for her, and after a few more daysthey departed, with young Williams and his lovable little sister intheir company. 

 CHAPTER XXX. 

 "O, why should Heaven smile On deeds of darkness--plots of sin and crime? I cannot tell thee why, But this I know, she often doeth so. "

While the bright summer passed over Wimbledon, matters apparently movedon as usual in the quiet little village. 

The Woman's Rights Reform lagged somewhat with the thermometer ateighty, as is frequently the case with benevolent organizations; perhapsbecause their zealous warmth, when increased by a high-temperaturedatmosphere, mounts to spirits' boil and evaporates. 

Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson sat on their respective piazzas, in nankinpants and open waistcoats, and flapped great peacocks' tails to and fro, to cool their feverish, perspiring brows. 

Mr. Pimble, in his wife's sun-bonnet, clappered his heelless slippers atmid-day along the garden paths, in the vain hope of warming his laggardblood to a brisker flow. Mrs. Dr. Simcoe was still harassed by thosesnarling, ill-tempered brats, "Simcoe's children, " who seemedcontagiously disposed to all the "ills which flesh is heir to, " as if totest the skill and try the patience of the lady M. D. 

One of the most brilliant moons that ever showered its silvery lightover a flower-covered earth, rode in the liquid zenith of a summerheaven. The splendid grounds of Major Howard's princely mansion neverslept, in their luxuriant beauty, beneath a lovelier sky. Thick trailedthe heavy vines in their leafy exuberance of foliage over arbors andgreen-houses. Whole parterres of brilliant flowers loaded the air withfragrance, and nightingales sang among the boughs of the lindens thatwaved against the wrought-iron palings of the terraces. 

Was there aught save the breath of love and peace abroad on the airto-night? Dared a vile vulture of sin to brush with polluting wing overthe vines and flowers of these odor-breathing, beam-lighted gardens?

There were low voices in one of the most obscure alcoves, and a man andwoman stood in close proximity in its dimmest recess. 

A low sigh or sob now and then escaped the woman, as though shestruggled to suppress some choking emotion. 

"Come, " said the man at length, impatiently, "this blubbering will notaid your purpose. "

"O, Herbert!" she exclaimed, in a tone which entreated compassion, "youhave ceased to love me. "

"Ceased to love you?" repeated he, with a low, ironical laugh, "I neveryet began. "

"You told me so, " said she. 

"What if I did?" returned he; "is my veracity so immaculate that myslightest word is received as an oath of probity? But I came not here tokeep a lover's tryst. You know, or at least I thought you knew, the bondthat unites us; and I ask you again if you will do my bidding and servemy interests?"

"I have done both, " said the woman; "but you have not fulfilled yourpromises to me. "

"Do you not see the boy when you choose?"

"I see him, but he does not recognize me. "

"The better for you that he does not, " returned the man. "Do yousuppose, with his position and prospects, he would acknowledge a lowserving-woman for a mother? He would kick her from his presence andcover her with curses. "

"And do you never intend to tell him who is his mother?" asked thewoman, in a trembling tone. 

"Certainly not, " answered he; "'tis not necessary the boy should knowhis own disgrace; but when the proper moment arrives, there are thosewho shall learn his parentage to their everlasting shame andmortification. "

"I see no prospect of that moment's ever arriving, " said the woman. "Here's the girl and her father gone off, the Lord knows where, orwhether they will ever return, and all things left unfinished andincomplete. I must say you manage as an idiot. "

"I will judge of my own management, " said the man, fiercely. "There hasbeen sickness in my family, and other things have indisposed me to hurrya revenge which will be the sweeter the longer 'tis delayed. "

"But it may be so long delayed as to fail altogether, " suggested thewoman. 

"I'll take care of that, " answered he. "I fancy I am not so great abungler as to overshoot my purposes and baffle my own designs; and, woman, " said he, raising his arm threateningly above her head, "Icaution you to beware. I believe you have already let drop someunguarded words; else why is your mistress so averse to this engagement, as I have learned she is, by the boy?"

The woman was silent. He seized her arm fiercely. "Have you blabbed?" hehissed in her ear. 

"No, " answered she faintly, and struggling to free herself from hisgrasp. 

"Has she no suspicions of my proximity?" he demanded. 

"None, " returned the woman; "as I live she has none. "

"Then I would look on her a moment to-night. "

"That you can easily do, " said she. "I left her sitting in a cushionedseat, drawn close before an open casement, with the full moon shining onher face. "

"A lucky position! I will show myself to her in a few minutes, " heremarked, as the twain parted. Hannah Doliver proceeded rapidly up thegarden avenue to the mansion, and hurried to the apartment of hermistress. 

The invalid lady was sitting in the same position in which she had lefther an hour before. 

"You have been absent a long time, Hannah, " she observed in a languidtone. 

"I went as far as Col. Malcome's to learn if they had any recentintelligence of Florence and her father, " returned the woman, divestingherself of bonnet and shawl. 

"Well, had he any tidings of them?" inquired the invalid. 

"At last accounts they were at Saratoga, intending in a few days tostart on a tour up the Hudson and St. Lawrence, to Quebec, and thence tothe mountain region of New Hampshire, " answered the woman. 

"Florence wrote to me from Niagara, " remarked the lady; "she seemed infine spirits. I wonder if she corresponds with Rufus Malcome?"

"Of course, " said Hannah; "a young lady would write to her affiancedhusband, if she neglected all others. " The invalid turned uneasily inher chair at these words, and her waiting-woman went into an adjoiningapartment under pretence of performing some duty. 

The lady sat listlessly gazing on the lovely scene without, when a darkobject moving up the garden path attracted her notice, and directly thefigure of a man in black, with cap removed from a head ofclosely-trimmed auburn hair that clustered in short, thick masses ofluxuriant curls around a high, pale brow, appeared before the casement, and fixed a bold stare upon her face. No sooner did her eyes encounterthose that glared so fiercely upon her, than she uttered a piercingshriek, and fell back in her chair with the appearance of one from whomall life had departed. 

Hannah rushed into the room and bore the insensible form of her mistressto the bed, where she commenced chafing her temples and pouring revivingcordials down her throat. At length the frightened lady opened her eyesand stared wildly around. 

"Secure that casement, " said she, pointing to the still open window;"and shut all the doors and lock them. "

"You will stifle without a breath of fresh air this oppressive night, "grumbled Hannah, as she proceeded to execute the orders of her mistress. 

"Better I should stifle, " answered the excited and still trembling lady, "than ever behold again the monster I have seen to-night. "

"Heavens! what do you mean?" exclaimed the attendant, appearing toexperience the greatest emotion. 

"I have seen _him_, Hannah Doliver, " said the invalid, shuddering as shespoke. 

"Who?" asked the hypocritical woman, breathlessly. 

"The destroyer of my happiness and your good fame, " answered the lady. 

"Impossible!" said Hannah, glaring on the excited features of theprostrate form before her. 

"I tell you I have seen him!" returned the invalid, shaking like anaspen on her couch. "I cannot be mistaken. 'Twas his face; the high, colorless brow, surrounded by thick, short auburn curls. He stood atthat casement, and gazed fiercely on me from his large, dark eyes. "

"Pshaw!" said Hannah, "'twas but a hideous dream, or a sudden attack ofapoplexy. The man you fancy you have seen to-night, has not been heardof these fifteen years, and is probably in his grave. "

"Then it was his ghost that I saw, " said the lady. 

"May be it was, " returned Hannah, smiling strangely; "though I don'tknow why it should have honored you with a visit. I am glad I was notdeemed worthy his ghostship's regards. "

The affrighted lady after a while grew calmer, and Hannah retired to herown apartment, which joined that of her mistress. 

In a few days, a letter was despatched to Major Howard by the invalid, informing him of the strange appearance which had alarmed her, andurging his immediate return. 

The letter never reached its destination. 

 CHAPTER XXXI. 

 "Ask why the holy starlight, or the blush Of summer blossoms, or the balm that floats From yonder lily like an angel's breath, Is lavished on such men! God gives them all For some high end; and thus the seeming waste Of her rich soul--its starlight purity, Its every feeling delicate as a flower, Its tender trust, its generous confidence, Its wondering disdain of littleness, -- These, by the coarser sense of those around her Uncomprehended, may not all be vain. "

A jubilant party were assembled in Mrs. Leroy Edson's elegant parlors towitness the marriage ceremony of Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet. 

Even Mrs. Salsify, as one of the groom's former acquaintances, receivedan invite to the bridal feast, and appeared in red morocco shoes and acap whose ruffles were the astonishment of the entire assembly. MaryMadeline's squealing baby detained her at home, and perhaps, also, shedid not care to see her former lover, recreant and unfaithful though hehad been to her, take the solemn vow of eternal constancy to another. 

The party was more lively than wedding parties usually are. Mrs. Edsonwas everywhere, gliding, like the spirit of grace and beauty, among herguests, enlivening them by her humor, and spreading a rich glow ofgeniality through the apartments. If she ever outshone herself, andsurpassed her own surpassing powers, it was to-night. Col. Malcome'seyes followed her wherever she moved, with an undisguisable expressionof admiration. He seemed rather cast in the shade by her unwontedbrilliancy, and held himself aloof from her side for almost the entireevening. 

Miss Martha Pinkerton noticed him sitting alone and abstracted on asofa, and her kind soul was moved with pity for his companionlesssituation, so she resolved to cheer his solitude as well as she wasable. Approaching, she assumed a seat on the opposite side of the sofa. She looked at him, hemmed, and coughed, but he did not seem to heed herproximity. At length she resolved to speak. 

"Col. Malcome, " she said, in her softest tone, "do you know you havenever called to take away the shirts you left for me to make more thantwo years ago? I have often thought I would take them to you; but sisterStanhope said I had better wait, as you would call when you wanted them. I starched and ironed them all up nice for you; but I am sure thestiffening is all out, and they are as yellow as saffron by this time. "

"Ay, Miss Pinkerton, you were very kind, " answered he, bowing politely. "I had forgot my call on your services entirely. I recollect now that Icontemplated a journey at that time, which circumstances prevented mefrom undertaking, and that occasioned my forgetfulness of the packageprobably. I will call soon and relieve you of it. "

"O, 'tis no burden, " she answered; "I only thought I would speak to youabout it to let you know 'twas ready any time you might choose to call. Don't you think the bride looks very beautiful?" she added, turning thediscourse to more elegant subjects now she had gained his ear. 

"Ay, quite interesting and pretty, " answered he, turning his attentionfor a moment toward the young couple who formed the centre of a mirthfulgroup. 

"Mrs. Edson seems to feel wonderful smart to-night, " pursued MissMartha; "pleased with her success in match-making, I suppose. "

"Ah!" said the colonel, "does Mrs. Edson make matches? I wish she wouldform one for me. "

The modest maiden blushed scarlet at these words, and remained silent. Agroup was just passing, and the colonel effected his escape from hisfair companion and joined them. Several voices called for him at thepiano, and, seating himself before the instrument, he commenced abrilliant performance. In a few moments he became conscious of the formof Louise standing in the embrasure of a window near by, her whole soulapparently absorbed in the music. When he arose she had disappeared. Hesauntered slowly to the hall door, and stepped forth upon the piazza. Ashe paced slowly down its marble length he came suddenly upon her, leaning languidly against a vine-covered column. 

"Why do you fly your guests?" asked he; "they will soon grow dim withoutyour presence. "

"Because I am weary and dispirited, " answered Louise, "and want quietand fresh air. "

"Dispirited!" exclaimed he; "I have never seen you so startlinglybrilliant as to-night. "

She shook her bright head mournfully. The hilarious voices from themerry groups within came full upon their ears. 

"Walk with me a few moments in the cool quiet of the garden, " said he;"here the air comes heavy and tainted from the crowded apartmentswithin. "

She placed her arm passively in his, and they passed down the steps andentered the shady paths. 

"I marvel to find you so moody and glum, " he remarked, after they hadproceeded some distance in perfect silence, "when you have been sounusually gay through the evening. "

She made no answer. 

"Let us return to the house, " said he at length. 

"What for?" she asked, turning her clear eyes quickly on his face. 

"Because you do not enjoy your company, " he answered. 

"No, that is not the reason, " said she; "'tis because you are weary ofmy presence. "

"Weary of your presence!" repeated he. "Louise, you don't believe yourown words. May I stay here at your side till I wish to go away?"

"Certainly, " answered she. 

"Then let me put my arm around you, " said he, encircling her waist, "andlay your dear head here, and you are mine henceforth, for I shall neverleave you. "

For a moment her tearful face was hidden on his bosom. 

A low wailing wind swept through the shrubbery that surrounded them, andone single word, thrilling and awful, as if it fell from the lips of anaccusing spirit, smote on their ears--'_Beware_!'

Louise started from the arm that encircled her and fled toward thelighted mansion. The party were still occupied in the merry dance, andno one seemed to have marked her brief absence. 

 CHAPTER XXXII. 

 ------"Ye mountains, So varied and so terrible in beauty; Here in your rugged majesty of rocks And toppling trees that twine their roots with stone In perpendicular places, where the foot Of man would tremble could he reach them--yes, Ye look eternal!"

Cloud-capped, sky-crowned, mist-mantled, storm-defying Mount Washington!O, there have been days, and weeks, and months and years, when life'slegion woes pressed heavily upon our souls and bowed our spirits in thedust; when we dared not glance toward the past, or contemplate thepresent, and turned with shuddering dread from the future of starless, impenetrable gloom; and in those doleful years, through long, longnights of sleepless pain and agony we have prayed, entreated, imploredgrim death to come and ease us of the thorny pangs that tore ourbleeding hearts like venomed arrows. But now on reverent knee we thankthe God of nature, that he has let us live to stand upon thysky-piercing summit and look down on the world below! Wild Switzerlandof America! thrice proud are we to call thy granite mountains ours, forbeneath thy snow-capped summits our young existence dawned, and thyshrill winds and stormy blasts rolled forth the sleeping anthems thatlulled our infant slumbers. 

To this wild mountain region came Florence Howard, after luxuriating onthe picturesque Hudson, and dreaming herself in elysian realms among the"thousand isles" of the queenly St. Lawrence. She was all life andanimation. The excitement of travel and vivid enjoyment of the beautifuland sublime had banished every trace of the dejection and gloom whichhad for many months obscured her brilliancy. Major Howard was delightedwith the improvement in his daughter's appearance, and seemed almost asyoung and buoyant as she. Young Williams and his sister were theirconstant companions in travel, and Florence found in Ellen a gentlenature and affectionate heart. 

A storm set in on the night of our party's arrival at the CrawfordHouse, and heavy clouds settled down over the brows of the greatmountains that hemmed in the narrow valley. The hotel was thronged withvisitors, and the new comers had to accept of such accommodations as twosmall rooms in the upper story could afford. 

"I declare, " exclaimed Ellen, when the porters had brought in thetrunks, thrown back the fastenings, and retired, "after rackings, andtossings, and tumblings enough to disjoint and unhinge a leviathan, towhat a comfortless haven are we arrived at last! O, for a tithe of theluxury I rolled in at Niagara and Saratoga, or even one of thestate-rooms of the 'Hendrick Hudson' or 'Belle of the Waters!' They wererooms of state indeed compared with these dismal little pens. How are wegoing to turn round in them, Florence, much less unload our trunks oftheir wardrobes and array ourselves for appearance in the parlors anddining saloon?"

"Dear me!" answered Florence, as she stood before the window, blowingher benumbed fingers, "I don't think we shall have any occasion to openour trunks, for there is not a frock in mine I could venture to put on, unless I was willing to be frozen to death within the hour. "

"But what are we to do?" said Ellen, approaching the other window andgazing forth on the dark, stormy evening, that was rapidly closing inaround them. Nothing could be seen beyond the small circle of the valleyin which the house stood, save dense clouds of fog and mist. The rainpoured like a second deluge, and terrific winds roared, and shrieked, and bellowed like infuriate spirits of the rushing storm. 

"What geese we have made of ourselves, Florence!" resumed Ellen, aftershe had gazed in silence a few moments on the gloomy prospect presentedto her eyes; "jamming into crowded, uncomfortable coaches, and bruisingand battering our flesh and bones to jelly, all to reach this wonderfulabode of grandeur and sublimity. What 'Alps on Alps' we expected wouldtower before our astonished visions! But here we are, sunk in a dismalabyss on the extreme northern verge of civilization, and never amountain to be seen, or anything else save great lowering clouds thatthreaten to fall and crush us yet deeper into the earth. "

"If I could only get to see the mountains, I would not mind all thediscomfitures, " said Florence, peering into the growing blacknesswithout. 

"I tell you there are no mountains, " said Ellen, growing impatient inher disappointment. 

"O, yes, " returned Florence; "I think there must be a few somewhere inthe vicinity. "

"Then why can't we see them?" demanded Ellen. 

"They are hidden by the clouds, I suppose, " said Florence. "I am toldMount Washington is veiled in their fleecy mantles for weeks sometimes. "

"No doubt it will be thus obscured during our visit, " said Ellen, quitepetulantly. 

A knock on the door here called their attention. Florence opened it, andbeheld her father, "Well, girls, " said he, rubbing his hands, "what doyou think of the White Mountains?"

"When we have seen them we shall be better prepared to give an opinion, "said Florence. 

"For my part, I don't believe in them at all, " said Ellen quickly. 

Major Howard laughed heartily at this pertly announced conviction of thenon-existence of the wonderful summits they had come to behold, and saidhe trusted, "when the storm was over, the elephants would show theirterrible heads. "

"But are not you half frozen?" asked he, his teeth chattering as hespoke; "pray come down in the parlors; you will find them warm andfilled with guests. "

"We cannot go in our travelling garbs, " said Ellen, "and there's noopportunity here, as you see, to open our trunks. "

"Never mind your dark dresses, " returned he; "you will not find thegossamer fabrics that deck the belles of Saratoga in fashion here. Thefair creatures, however much in defiance of their wishes, are obliged toconceal their white arms and shoulders in thick warm coverings. "

"We would be very glad to do so, " said Florence; "but unfortunately ourwardrobes were prepared for a temperate, instead of a frigid zone. "

"Well, you will do very well as you are to-night; there are a score ofladies just arrived, all round the parlor fires, in their travel-stainedgarbs; so come on, " said he, "and don't be bashful. You will hear theconversation of those who have passed half the summer in this region, and perhaps Ellen may come to believe in old Mount Washington. "

"I shall never believe in it till I have seen it with my own eyes, "returned the fair girl, as she and Florence, under the escort of MajorHoward, descended the flights of stairs to the parlor. 

As they entered, a hum of voices struck their ears from every side. There was a group of ladies and gentlemen round the fire, and several ofthem vacated their seats for the convenience of the new comers. A largewoman with a very red face remained in one corner and a young girl satby her side. 

"Have you just arrived?" asked the former of Florence; who was nearesther. 

"Yes, madam, " returned Florence, respectfully. 

"Well, it is a dismal time for strangers to make their advent, thoughthe largest arrivals most always occur on such nights as this, " said thefleshy woman, who had rather a pleasant manner, and would have been verygood-looking, Florence thought, but for the rough redness of hercomplexion. 

"Are such storms frequent here?" inquired Ellen, in a dubious tone. 

"Not very, " answered the portly lady. "I have been here six weeks, andhave not witnessed so severe a one hitherto. I think myself ratherunfortunate to have been exposed to its severity all day. "

Ellen and Florence looked surprised, and the lady continued: "Myself anddaughter joined a large party that ascended the mountains yesterday. Wehad a tedious time. I lost my veil, and my face was frozen by exposureto the biting blasts. The storm came on so furiously we were obliged tosend our horses back by the guides and remain all night. "

"What!" exclaimed Ellen, "remain all night on the top of a mountainexposed to a storm like this! Why did you not all perish?"

"O, we had shelter, and a good one!" returned the lady. 

"Where was it? In caves of rocks, or on cold, wet turfs beneath reekingbranches of lofty pines?" asked Ellen. 

"Not in caves, " answered the lady, "and certainly not on grassy turfs, or beneath trees of any variety; for old Mount Washington's bleak summitcannot boast the one or the other. "

"What can it boast, then?" inquired Ellen; "wolves and catamounts, that, together with its shrieking winds, make night hideous?"

"Not wolves, or animals of any species, " returned the lady, shaking herhead; "but of huge masses of granite boulders, gray and moss-grown, heaped in gigantic piles, that eternally defy the blasts and storms ofthe fiercest boreal winters. "

"O, what a grand thing it must be to stand on its summit!" exclaimedFlorence, with glistening eyes. 

"It is, indeed, " said the lady, "though I have been pelted by themerciless storm all day, which added fresh difficulties to the descent, and still suffer much from my poor, frozen cheeks, I do not for a momentregret my journey. I suppose you young ladies intend to ascend?"

"I do, " said Ellen. "If there is anything here worth seeing, I wish tosee it, after all the fatigue and trouble of getting here. "

"O, well, " returned the lady, "I assure you there is enough to see. Ihave been here, as I have already informed you, six weeks, and some newwonder bursts upon me every day. You are a little disappointed fromhaving been so unfortunate as to arrive on this gloomy evening, wheneven the nearest views are obscured by clouds. But the guides predict asplendid day to-morrow. I am sure you will be delighted in the morningwhen you rise and behold the great clouds rolling away their heavymasses and revealing the broad, dark summits of the mountains that hemin this grassy valley. I shall watch to see you dance into the breakfasthall in buoyant spirits. "

With a pleasant good-evening the lady retired. Florence and Ellen soonfollowed. In the upper space they met Major Howard and young Williams, who were hastening to join them in the parlor. 

"Well, sis, " said Edward, "Major Howard tells me you vote the WhiteMountains all humbug. "

"I think Ellen is growing less sceptical, " said Florence, "since she hasconversed with a lady who has just descended from their summits. "

"O, yes, Nell, there's a Mount Washington, sure as fate, " returnedEdward, "and we must ascend its craggy steeps to-morrow; so retire, andget a refreshing rest to be ready for the fatiguing excursion in themorning. "

 CHAPTER XXXIII. 

 "Come over the mountains to me, love, Over to me--over to me; My spirit is pining for thee, love, Pining for thee--pining for thee!"

 SONG. 

The sun rose bright above the mountains of the Crawford Notch on thefollowing morning, and illuminated with his brilliant rays all the greenvalley below. Each member of the large party that proposed to ascendMount Washington was at an early hour mounted on a strong-built pony, and led by a guide into the bridle-path which commenced in the woods atthe base of Mount Clinton. Our little band of travellers were foremostin the file, Florence and Ellen in the greatest glee of laughter andspirits. 

The whole ascent of Clinton was through a dense forest, over a rough, uneven path, constructed of small, round timbers, called "corduroys. "They were in a rotted, dilapidated condition, and unpleasant as well asdangerous to ride over. 

Emerging from the woods that covered Clinton, the surrounding mountainsbegan to appear; and from the grassy plain on the summit of MountPleasant, a view was obtained which called forth rapturous shouts fromthe whole company. 

The descent of Pleasant was tedious. All the ladies were obliged todismount, as the path was very rough, and often almost perpendicularover precipitous rocks, while the frightful chasm that yawned far belowcaused many of the adventurers to grow giddy and pale with fear. 

Ellen, who was rather timid, began to wish she had remained in thevalley, and continued to disbelieve in mountains; but Florence was allexhilaration and eagerness to push onward. 

Mount Franklin towered next before them. As Florence, who was among theforemost, reached its summit, she turned on her pony, and gazed down onthe little cavalcade, winding along up the narrow, precipitous path insingle file, with the guides hurrying from one bridle to another, as amore difficult and dangerous place occurred in the rough way. And shethought of Napoleon leading an army over the mighty Alps, and howdauntless and sublime must be the soul of a man who could successfullyaccomplish an enterprise so fraught with perilous hazard anddisheartening fatigue. 

As the little company wound their way over the unsheltered brow of MountFranklin, tremendous blasts swept down from the summits above, andthreatened to unseat them in their saddles, or hurl the whole party overthe fearful gulfs that yawned on every side. The guides collected theband together and informed them half their journey was completed. Many aface grew blank with dismay at this announcement. The weather wore aless promising aspect than when they set out, and the winds pierced themthrough and through. Several proposed to turn back. The guides saidthere was about an even chance for the clouds to blow over or gatherinto a storm, and the party could settle the point among themselveswhether they would turn back or go on. 

A gentleman, with features so muffled she could not discover them, rodeto the side of Florence, and said, in a voice she could barelydistinguish among the clamorous winds that howled over the mountain, "Doyou favor the project of returning tamely to the valley and leavingMount Washington a wonder unrevealed?"

"No!" answered she, from beneath her thick veil; the muscles of her faceso stiffened with cold she could hardly move her lips. 

"Then ride your pony to the centre of these dissenting groups andpropose to move on, " said he. "There are none in the party socraven-souled as to shrink from what a lady dares encounter. "

Florence paused a moment, and then guided her pony into the midst of thecompany. 

"Do you wish to join those who are going back, Miss?" said a guide, taking hold of her bridle-rein. 

"No!" said she in a tone of decision. "I'll lead the way for those whochoose to follow to the summit of Mount Washington. "

"Bravo!"--"hurrah!"--"let us on!"--burst from all sides. Three solitaryones, among them Ellen Williams, turned back, and the others formed intofile and moved onward. Down Mount Franklin and over the narrow path cutin the cragged side of Monroe, where a single misstep would hurl thehorse and rider down a fathomless abyss, into whose depths the eye dareshardly for a moment gaze. Then appeared a crystal lakelet, and a littleplain covered with a seedy-looking grass, where the horses rested andrefreshed themselves ere the last desperate trial of their strength andendurance; for the weary band of adventurers had reached at last thebase of the mighty Washington, whose summit was veiled in heavy clouds. As they loitered in the plain, the muffled gentleman again approachedFlorence, and inquired if she was unattended. 

"No, sir, " said she. "My father is among the party, also a friend; butthey are not yet come up. "

He lingered a moment, and then asked if she would like to dismount. 

As the voice met her ear more distinctly, it struck her it had afamiliar sound, and a sudden thought flashed across her mind. Shethanked him for his politeness, but said she was too cold to move. 

Her father and young Williams now appeared. "How do you brave it, Florence?" said Major Howard, drawing in his breath with a shudder. 

"Very well, father, " answered she. 

When the muffled gentleman heard the name Florence pronounced, hestarted suddenly and darted a swift glance on the speaker. Then turningaway, he remounted his steed and rode into the front ranks of the linethat was forming. Soon the band commenced their toilsome ascent. Thepath wound over perpendicularly-piled masses of gigantic graniteboulders. Often it seemed the poor tired animals, with their utmostefforts, would never be able to surmount the prodigious rocks thatobstructed their way. Cold, blustering clouds of mists drove in thefaces of the forlorn little party as they labored up and up theprecipitous steeps, till it seemed to many a despairing heart that thesummit of that tremendous mountain would never, never be gained. Sodensely hung the threatening clouds around them, they could not telltheir distance from the wished-for goal. At length the guides halloed tothe foremost rider to halt; and directly Florence felt herself in thearms of a strong man, who sprang over the craggy rocks with surprisingagility, and soon placed her on the door-stone of a small habitation, which was not only "founded on a rock, " but surrounded on all sides byhuge piles of gray granite boulders. 

In a few moments the whole dripping, half-frozen party were landedsafely at the "Summit House, " on the brow of Mount Washington. Great wastheir joy to find a comfortable shelter where they might rest and warmtheir chilled limbs; but great also was their dismay to find a stormupon them, and nothing visible from the miraculous height they hadtoiled to gain, but the wet rocks lying close beneath the small windows. 

 CHAPTER XXXIV. 

 "But these recede. Above me are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned Eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche, the thunderbolt of snow! All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Gather around these summits, as to show How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below. "

 CHILDE HAROLD. 

A calm, beautiful morning succeeded a night of terrors. O, is there inall the world a grander sight than sunrise on Mount Washington?

The first faint rays breaking gradually through clouds of mist, anddimly revealing the outlines of surrounding peaks; then long, brightstreams, piercing the gloomy depths of the valleys, chasing giganticshadows, like spirits of light contending with the legions of darkness;and, at length, the whole immense sea of mountains brought into majesticview, with their unnumbered abysmal valleys covered with forests ofevery intermingled variety and shade of green. 

Florence Howard separated herself from the remaining portion of theparty, and stood alone on the topmost summit, leaning on the moss-grownside of a granite boulder, gazing in rapt awe and wonder on the awfulsublimity that opened rapidly to her view. Thin, fringy clouds of mist, white and silvery in the growing light, were flying over the dark sidesof the mountains, resting a moment in the valleys, and thendisappearing, as a dusky form approached the spot where Florence stood. 

"We meet again, Miss Howard;" said a voice at her side, low, and deepwith emotion. 

"And above the clouds, Edgar;" answered she, turning toward him, herface radiant as an angel's in the intensity of the emotions whichoverawed her soul. "Could we have met so well in any other place ashere, with earth and its turmoils all below, and only the free blue domeof heaven above our head?"

"Are you glad to have met me here?" asked he, gazing sadly on herexpressive features. 

"Can you ask?" said she. "And this is the only spot where I could haverejoiced to meet you now, for here you will be Edgar to me, and may Inot be Florence to you?" she added, lifting her clear, liquid eyes withbeseeching earnestness to his face. 

He could not withstand this gentle appeal, this touching expression. Softly his arm stole round her slender waist. She placed her little handlightly on his shoulder, and laid her head with confiding tenderness onhis bosom. 

O, what was Mount Washington in his glory then? What the whole boundlessprospect that spread its sublime immensity before them? Their eyeslooked only in each other's hearts, and they were warm--O, how warm withlove, and hope, and happiness! Mount Washington was cold. They felt apity for its great, insensate piles of granite, that loomed up there toheaven, cold, bare and stony, void of power to feel and sympathize withhuman emotions. Wandering to a sheltered nook among the rocks they satdown together. 

An hour passed by, during which each member of the little party wasintently occupied with his own delighted observations, and then MajorHoward recollected the absence of his daughter, who had left his side, saying she wished to contemplate the sublime spectacle apart from therest of the company. Gazing over the cragged summit, he beheld herapproaching with a gentleman at her side. 

"Ay, my little truant, " said he, advancing to meet her. "So you tired ofyour solitary contemplation, after all. "

"I found this fair lady roaming among the rocks, and ventured to escorther to the party, " said the gentleman, bowing politely, as he deliveredFlorence to the care of her father. 

"Thank you, thank you, sir, " returned Major Howard, casting ascrutinizing glance toward the young man as he turned away. 

"My daughter, what do you think of this scene?" he asked, turning toher. 

The glowing happiness, which lighted her features with almostsupernatural beauty, astonished him. 

"That I have never seen aught so awfully grand and majestic before, "returned she, in a tone of wild enthusiasm. 

"Does it surpass Niagara?"

"Infinitely, " answered she. "Niagara is grand, but it is a single, solitary grandeur. Here, our vision encompasses a boundless expanse ofdread, terrific sublimities; a sea of towering Alpine summits on everyhand, with fearfully-yawning gulfs and chasms; tremendous precipices, over whose dizzy edges, as we look down, and down, and down into theabysmal depths of bright green valleys, starred over with tiny whitecottages, and graced with winding rivers and waving fields of grain, wemark the dark straight lines of unnumbered railways, with their flyingtrains of cars; countless sheets of water flashing like molten silver;the spires and domes of numerous hamlets, villages, and cities; and, farin the distance, the broad Atlantic's dark blue surface, jotted overwith white gleaming sails. O, father, father!" she exclaimed, almostwild with her emotions of awe and admiration, "is there in all the worlda spectacle to equal that which feasts our vision now?"

"It is a grand scene, " said the father, participating in his daughter'svivid enjoyment. "Look far on those blue summits that bound the prospectto the west and north. Those singularly-formed peaks you notice arecalled Camel's Rump and Mansfield mountains. "

"Would I might forever dwell here!" exclaimed Florence, her eyes roamingin every direction, as though her soul could never drink its fill of thesublimity around. 

Perhaps other delights than the scenery would afford rose in brightanticipation, and caused her to utter this strange, wild wish. 

"You forget the awful winters, Florence, when you would perish beneaththe sky-piled snows, " said her father. 

"O, I would not mind them!" she answered. "I'd have a little habitation, hidden down among the rocks, where I could sit by a cosey fire andlisten to the billowy blasts that swept over my home in the clouds. "

"Alone, Florence?" asked her father. "Would you dwell alone in a placeso wild with terrors?"

"O, no!" said she quickly. "I would have one companion. "

"And who should that be?"

"The one I loved best on earth, " replied she, turning her clear eyes onher father's face. 

"And that is"----he paused, and added, interrogatively, "Rufus Malcome?"

Florence started. Her features suddenly lost their glowing light, anddarkened into a contemptuous frown. 

"Don't breathe that name here!" she exclaimed, almost fiercely. "It isnot worthy to be spoken in the air of God's own taintless purity. "

Her father gazed with astonishment and pity. He had fancied therepugnance and dislike she formerly evinced toward her affianced husbandwas dissipated or forgotten in the multiplied excitements and varietiesof travel; and great was his regret and sorrow to find it still ranklingin her bosom. Both stood silent several moments, engaged in their ownthoughts and emotions. At length several voices exclaimed gleefully, "The ponies, the ponies are coming!"

Major Howard glanced downwards, and beheld the long line of riderlesshorses, attended by the guides, slowly wending their way around theshelving, precipitous side of Mount Monroe. The company collectedtogether and agreed to set out and meet them; so, returning to the hotelamong the rocks, they partook of a finely-prepared lunch, and, wrappingwarmly in shawls and blankets went forth on their hard, laborious way, down the steep path of cragged rocks. Sometimes their feet lighted on asharp projection, or by a misstep they fell among the stony piles, bruising and wrenching their flesh and bones. But, notwithstanding allthe fatigues and hardships of the way, the party were in jubilantspirits. As the prospect narrowed with the descent, they were all takinga last look at the disappearing wonders, and shouting their earnestfarewells. 

At the "Lake of the Clouds" they halted and drank of its cold, crystalwaters. The ponies were feeding on the plain, and the party gladlymounted and commenced their long, toilsome descent. 

As the shades of evening were falling, their safe arrival in the valleywas hailed by assembled groups on the piazzas of the Crawford House. 

 CHAPTER XXXV. 

 "Love thee! words have no meaning to my deep love; It hath purged me from the weakness of my sex, And made me new create in thee. Love thee! I had not lived until I knew thee. "

On arriving at the hotel, Florence retired to her room, which she foundvacant, and learned Ellen had joined a party on an excursion to MountWillard, one of the loftiest peaks of the Crawford Notch, to whosesummit there is a carriage road. 

She drew forth her journal, and, sitting down beside the window, commenced to write. 

Nimbly the golden pen sped over the spotless page, leaving a train ofsprightly thoughts behind it, while the bright face glowed and sparkledwith the buoyant happiness of the soul within. 

"I feel like one just dropped from the clouds, " she wrote, "and I shouldbe inconsolable at my sudden descent from the august abode of eternalsublimities to the grovelling haunts of care and discontent, but that asun-soaring spirit companioned and illumined my fall. 

"I have stood above the clouds that swept the brows of lofty surroundingmountains, and seen _that star of mine_ rise sweet and clear upon myearnest vision, and felt my long-chilled heart grow warm and gladbeneath its beaming rays of light and love. I toiled up the miraculoussteeps of hoary-headed, granite-crowned Mount Washington, to realize adouble joy. The stern, gloomy grandeur was alone sufficient to awaken myprofoundest awe, my strongest admiration; but a warm heart-happinessstole over me, which spread a mantling glory over all the thousanddark-browed mountains that loomed in their awful majesty on every side. 

"And ever, till my heart has ceased to beat, though I should roam inforeign lands, along the castled Rhine, or beneath the sunny skies ofclassic Italy, Mount Washington will be to me the glory of the earth!For, standing on its granite piles, while sunrise pierced the gloomyvalleys far below, a love nestled warmly to my bosom, with which I wouldnot part for India's wealth of gems. How rich am I in the knowledge ofEdgar's love! My soul is strong and firm as the mountains where my joywas born. Shall I ever tremble or waver again? Am I not mailed in armorto meet unshocked the battling swords and lances of life's armiedlegions of cares and sorrows? With Edgar's love to nerve my soul, whatis there that I cannot endure? Surely, I could survive all things saveseparation from him; and is not this the one which will be demanded ofmy strength?

"But I will not mar my happiness by dark forebodings of the future. Letme enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. What shall I say to myfather?--what will he say to me when he learns who was the companion ofmy lonely mountain stroll, and the rider at my bridle-rein during allthe long, dangerous descent? I fear he will be angry and hurry me awayimmediately; and yet, with his discrimination, I think he must discernthe vast superiority of Edgar Lindenwood to that low-bred, mean-souledMalcome. 

"But it is time this record should end, for twilight approaches, and theshadows of the great mountains darken over the valley. "

She closed her journal just as Ellen Williams, returned from herexcursion, burst into the room. She flung her arms around Florence, andcovered her with frantic kisses. 

"O, I am so glad to have you safely back!" she exclaimed; "I feared Ishould never behold you again. How did you live through a night likelast on that dreadful mountain-top?"

"We had a comfortable shelter, " said Florence, returning her friend'swarm embraces. 

"Did you wish you were down here in the valley, when the awful stormovertook you?"

"No, indeed, " answered Florence; "my courage rose above alldifficulties. O, Ellen! you know not what you lost, when, chilled by theblasts that swept Mount Franklin, you grew discouraged and turned back. "

"So Ned tells me, " said Ellen; "but I saw sublimity enough from MountWillard to fill my little soul with rapture, though I had noartist-companion at my side to point out the grandest views to myuntaught vision. "

Here she fixed an arch glance on Florence, who blushed slightly as shesaid:

"I do not understand your quizzical looks. "

"Probably not, " returned Ellen, in a pleasant, bantering tone; "and if Ishould tell you Mr. Lindenwood, the young artist of whom I spoke to youat Niagara, had made his appearance in these regions, no doubt you wouldexpress appropriate surprise at the information. However, your fatherhas been impressed with his appearance, and sought an introduction. Isaw them in the parlor but a moment since, engaged in conversation. "

"Is it possible?" said Florence, her eyes lighting with pleasure. 

"Why, very possible, " returned Ellen, "and they seemed mutually pleasedwith each other. Come, let us make ready and go down. I promised Ned toreturn in five minutes. "

The young ladies descended to the parlor, where Florence beheld herfather standing before a table, with Edgar at his side, examining avolume of engravings. 

She approached softly, when Major Howard turned, and introduced hiscompanion as "Mr. Lindenwood, a former acquaintance of hers, who wasvisiting the mountains for the purpose of sketching views, and obtaininggeological specimens. "

Florence saw at once, by her father's words and manner, that he did notsuspect Edgar's identity with the muffled figure which had been hercompanion on the mountains; and, bowing politely, expressed her"pleasure at again meeting Mr. Lindenwood. "

Ellen and her brother joined them, and the evening passed in pleasantrehearsals of the wonders and adventures of their late expedition to the"realms of upper air. "

As Major Howard led his daughter to the door of her apartment, heremarked: "That young Lindenwood is a fine fellow. I declare, I neverthought that wild hermit's boy would grow into a refined, polishedgentleman. You hardly recognized him, did you, Florence?"

"He is very much changed in his appearance, " said she, briefly. 

"Certainly he is, " returned her father; "one seldom meets a handsomerfellow. He tells me there is a great deal of fine scenery through aplace called the Franconia Notch. He is going there in a few days tocomplete some sketches. I think we will join him: now we are here, wemay as well see all there is to be seen;--unless you wish to go home, "he added, finding his daughter silent in regard to the proposedexcursion. 

"I wish to go home?" exclaimed she, suddenly; "if you remain here tillthat time comes, your head will be white as the snows of these northernwinters. "

Laughing at her enthusiasm for mountains, he kissed her cheek andretired. 

 CHAPTER XXXVI. 

 "Most wondrous vision! The broad earth hath not, Through all her bounds, an object like to thee, That travellers e'er recorded. Nor a spot More fit to stir the poet's phantasy; Grey Old Man of the Mountain, awfully There, from thy wreath of clouds thou dost uprear Those features grand, --the same eternally! Lone dweller 'mid the hills! with gaze austere Thou lookest down, methinks, on all below thee here. "

At the Flume House, three weeks later, we find our little party oftravellers, all in apparently fine spirits and delighted enjoyment ofthe wild, enchanting scenery of the Franconia Notch. 

"Well, Lindenwood, what do you intend to show us next?" asked MajorHoward, as the group disposed themselves on the sofas of their ownprivate parlor for an evening of rest and quiet, after a day passed invisits to different objects in the vicinity. "I declare these mountainswill exhaust me entirely, and I shall be obliged to go away withoutbeholding one half of their alleged wonders. "

Young Williams laughed and said, "You are not half as good a travelleras your daughter, major. Instead of looking worn and fatigued by herrepeated rambles, she seems more fresh and blooming than on our firstarrival. "

"Yes, " returned the father, looking affectionately on his daughter, "shethrives wonderfully on mountains. I recollect, when we stood on thefreezing summit of Washington, she expressed a wish to burrow among itsrocks and pass a life-time there, listening to the winds o' nights, andother like charming diversions. "

"I did not think her disposition so solitary, " remarked young Williams. 

"O, she was not going to dwell alone! She wanted one companion to shareher habitation. I don't know who it was, --perhaps you were the doomedone!"

"I dare not presume to think Miss Florence would select me for a doom soblissful, " returned he, gallantly. "Her choice would fall on some of mymore fortunate neighbors. "

"Rather say _un_fortunate, " said Florence, coloring; "for in that lightI think most people would regard the prospect of a life passed amid theclouds and storms of Mount Washington. "

"Would you thus regard it, Lindenwood?" inquired young Williams, turninghis gaze upon Edgar. 

"I don't know, " returned the latter. "It might prove an agreeablesummer-home; but I think I would want to fly away on the approach ofwinter. "

Major Howard drew forth his guide-book and occupied himself turning overthe pages a few moments. 

"We have achieved the Flume, the Pool, and the Basin to-day, " said he atlength. "Say, Lindenwood, where shall we go to-morrow? You are thepioneer of the band. "

"I have thought, should the day prove fine, " answered he, "it would bepleasant to make an excursion to the summit of Mount Lafayette, or the'Great Haystack' mountain, as it is sometimes called, which lies severalmiles west from this point. "

"More mountains towering before us! When shall we have done with them?"said the major, in a lugubrious tone. "How high is this Haystack youspeak of?"

"But seven hundred feet less than Mount Washington, " answered Edgar. 

"O dear!" groaned the major. "Heaven save me from attempting theascension! Can we do nothing better than tear our clothes and bruise ourshins among brushwood and bridle-paths; clambering up to the sky just tostare about us a few moments, and then tumbling down headlong, as itwere, to the valleys again?"

"Well, " said Edgar, "if the Great Haystack intimidates you, suppose weride up through the Notch, and visit the 'Old Man. '"

"What old man?" asked the major. 

"The Old Man of the Mountain!"

"I should have no objection to calling on the old fellow, " returnedMajor Howard, "if he did not live on a mountain; but I cannot think ofclimbing up any more of these prodigious steeps, --even to see a king inhis regal palace. "

A burst of laughter followed the major's misapprehension of the objectwhich Lindenwood had proposed to visit. 

"It is not a man of flesh and blood we are to see, father, " saidFlorence, as soon as she could command her voice sufficiently to speak, "but a granite profile, standing out from a peak of solid rock, exactlyresembling the features of a man's face; whence its name, 'Old Man ofthe Mountain. '"

"Ay, that's all, then!" said the major, referring to his guidebook. "Ishall be very glad of the privilege of standing on the ground for onceand looking up at an object; for I confess it afflicts mykindly-affectioned nature to be forever looking down upon this goodlyearth, as if in disdainful contempt of its manifold beauties. So, to-morrow, ladies and gentlemen, " added he, rising, "we are to pay ourrespects to this 'Old Man. ' I hear music below. You young people wouldlike to join the merry groups, I suppose. I'm going down to the officeto enjoy a cigar, and then retire, for my old bones are sadly rackedwith the jaunts of to-day. Good-night to you all. " Thus saying, hewalked away. 

"Would you like to join the dancers, Ellen?" asked Florence, turning tothe fair girl who sat in a rocking-chair by the window, gazing out onthe moon-lit earth. 

"I don't care to join the dance, " she returned; "but I would like to goand listen to the music a while. "

"Then let us go, " said her brother; "that is, if agreeable to MissFlorence and Mr. Lindenwood. "

"I shall be happy to accompany you, Miss Howard, " said he, offeringFlorence his arm, which she accepted, and the party descended to theparlors. They were well-lighted, and filled with guests. Edward andEllen soon became exhilarated by the music, and joined the cotillons. Edgar looked in vain for a vacant sofa, and at length asked Florence ifshe would not like to walk on the piazzas. She assented, and they wentforth. The evening was cool and delightful. A sweet young moon shed herpale light o'er the scene, veiling the roughness of the surroundingcountry, and heightening its romantic effect. 

"I think you are growing less cheerful every day, " said he, gazingtenderly on her downcast features. 

"Can you not divine the cause of my depression?" she asked, raising herdark eyes to his face. 

"No, " said he, smiling on her. "Won't you tell me?"

"Father says we must return home soon, " answered she, turning her faceaway. 

"Is that an unpleasant prospect to you?" asked he, seeking to obtain aglance at her averted face. 

"Yes, " returned she; and he thought a shudder for a moment convulsed theslender form at his side. 

They were both silent several moments, and then he remarked, "I intendto visit Wimbledon in a few months; may I not hope to see you should Ido so?"

"I presume my father will be happy to receive a visit from you, "answered she, in a formal tone. 

"But his daughter would rather be excused from my company, I am tounderstand, " said he. 

"O, no! not that, " returned Florence quickly, turning her face suddenlytoward him, when he saw it was bathed in tears and marked with painfulemotion. 

"What distresses you, Florence?" asked he; gently taking her hand inhis. "Will you not tell me?"

"I dare not, Edgar!" answered she, with fast-falling tears. "I havewronged you, and you will not forgive me. "

"Then you do not love me!" said he, looking sadly on her countenance. 

"O, yes! I love you, " she returned, in a tone of pathetic tenderness, "Heaven knows, too wildly well! If that could atone for my fault, Ishould not fear to give it expression. "

"It can!" said he, pressing her hand closely to his heart. "Believe me, Florence, it can atone for everything. "

Encouraged by his tone and manner she spoke. "I am engaged"--he droppedthe hand and started back--"to Rufus Malcome, " she concluded, and thendarting quickly into the hall, flew up stairs and locked herself intoher own apartment. She paced the floor hurriedly several minutes, andthen seized her journal, --always her confidant in moments of affliction. 

"I knew it would come to this at last, " she wrote. "I have acknowledgedmy error, and told him of my engagement with Rufus Malcome. It cost me astruggle, but I knew he must learn it from some source e'er long, andbetter from my lips than those of strangers. He will visit Wimbledon, and then, O horrible thought! I shall be the bride of another; forfather tells me Col. Malcome is desirous the marriage should beconsummated the approaching winter. I got a long, foolish letter fromRufus yesterday. O dear, how sick and sorry it made me! It is strangemother never writes. Col. Malcome says she is not as well as when weleft, and this intelligence disposes father to hasten home. O, my poorbleeding heart! How soon this little day of happiness has past. " Sheclosed the book, and threw herself on the bed. After a while she fellasleep, and was roused by Ellen, knocking for admittance. 

In the morning she met Edgar in the parlor with her father and youngWilliams, the three in earnest conversation about their proposedexcursion to the Profile Mountain. He made her a distant bow. Shereturned to her room, and not the most urgent entreaties of her fathercould induce her to join the party. She pleaded a violent headache, andEllen announced her resolve to remain with her. She cared nothing aboutthe 'Old Man;' she would stay at home and nurse Florence. So the threegentlemen departed together, and in a few days the Howards had left themountain region and set out for Wimbledon. 

 CHAPTER XXXVII. 

 "Once more the sound Of human voices echoes in our ears; And some commotion dire hath roused The female ranks. Let's pause and learn The drift of all this wordy war of tongues. "

Back to the Mumbles, the Wimbles and Pimbles, and their clamorous voicesagain dinning in our ears. Will we ever be quit of them?

As cold weather approached, and the atmospheric thermometer descended tothe freezing point, the philanthropic one mounted suddenly to bloodheat. 

Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson assumed their green legs and strode overWimbledon with pompous, majestic tread. The Woman's Rights Reform shookoff its sluggish torpor, and rose a mighty shape of masculine vigor, strength and power. As in atonement for past sloth and inertness, thereformists became more active in their several departments than everbefore. Lectures were delivered, clubs formed, and committees appointedto visit the people from house to house, and stir them up by way ofremembrance, to engage in the great benevolent enterprises of the day. At length an indignation meeting was announced to be held at the villagechurch in Wimbledon. The house was thronged at an early hour, and greatexcitement pervaded the assembly, when the chairman and other officersappeared and ascended the platform, which had been erected for theirconvenience. It must be admitted that Dea. Allen, sitting in the glaringlight of the uncurtained windows, contemplated with rather wrathfulvisage the ample green damask Bloomers, which adorned the lower limbs ofthe several officiating ladies; but he quite forgot his anger when thepresident sublimely arose, and, advancing to the front of the stand, said in a loud, commanding tone:

"We will now proceed with the business of this convention. If there isany person in the house that wishes to pray, she, or he, can do so. Wehold to liberty and equal rights for all. "

She then stood in silence several moments, gazing over the assembly witha self-possessed and confident air. But it appeared no person was movedwith a spirit of prayer. So the lady president, after a preparatory hem, proceeded with the duties of her office. She, in a brief speech, explained the reason for holding this meeting, and the object it had inview. 

"I have spoken in public before, " said she; "often has my voice beenraised against tyranny and oppression in all its forms; but never untilto-day has it been my happy privilege to address so large an assembly ofthe inhabitants of my native village on the holy subjects of freedom andphilanthropy. It inspires my soul with fresh courage to behold youreager faces, for they seem to say your minds are awakening to thedemands of the down-trodden portions of your race. We hold thisconvention to arouse an interest in the cause of reform, which shalllead to strong and energetic action. 

"It is too painfully true that Wimbledon is a sink of immorality, viceand pollution, where moral turpitude stalks with giant strides, andabominable barbarisms are practised under the glaring light of heaven. (Sensation. ) The object of this meeting is to crush the oppressor'smight, and raise his hapless victims to their proper position insociety. I call upon the women of this assembly to rise from the depthsof their degradation, rush boldly in the faces of their enslavers, andassert their rights; and, having asserted, maintain them, even at thepoint of the sword. (Sensation and murmurings. ) A series of resolutionswill now be presented for the consideration of the convention. "

She turned to Mrs. Lawson, who sat majestically in a large arm-chair, her strong arms folded on her broad chest, and whispered a few words inher ear. While she was thus engaged, Mr. Salsify Mumbles rose, and saidin a loud tone: "Gentlemen and ladies, I rise for the purpose"---- Onhearing the sound of his voice, the lady president rushed to the edge ofthe platform, and glaring on the upright figure, which shook like anaspen beneath her fiery eyes, exclaimed, in thundering accents, "Whatare you standing there for, you booby-faced, blubber-chopped baboon inboots?"

"I wish to speak, " stammered the terrified man. He could utter no more. 

"_You_ speak!" said the lofty president, in a tone of the most supremecontempt, --"sit down. "

The poor creature dropped as quick as though he had received a cannonball in his heart. 

Mrs. Pimble retired, and Mrs. Secretary Lawson arose, adjusted her greenspectacles, and, taking a roll of papers from the table, advanced to thefront of the stand. Elevating her brows, she said:

"I will now read several resolutions which have been handed in since theopening of the meeting. 

"First, Resolved, That the enfranchised women of Wimbledon use theircombined efforts for the liberation of their suffering sisterhood, whoyet groan beneath the despotic cruelties of the oppressor man. "

The secretary sat down. The president arose. "Are there any remarks tobe made on this resolution?" she said. 

None were forthcoming. 

"Then I move its adoption. "

"I second the motion, " squealed a little voice from some remote corner. 

The secretary came forward. "All in favor of this resolution will pleasesay, ay. "

A score of voices were heard. 

"It is unanimously accepted, " said she. "I will now proceed to thereading of the second. 

"Resolved, That, as a means of humbling and destroying the tyranny whichthe monster man exercises over the larger portion of the women ofWimbledon, six of the usurpers be converted into lamp-posts, and placedat the corners of the principal streets, with tin lanterns fixed upontheir heads, to light the cause of philanthropy in its midnightstruggles. " (Sensation, and several brawny hands scratching uneasily atthe apex of their craniums. )

The secretary sat down; the lady president arose. "This is a veryspirited as well as elegant resolve, " said she, "and cannot fail ofsecuring universal approbation. Mrs. Secretary, you will please read theremaining portion, and then all can be adopted by one joint action ofthe house. "

"There are but two brief ones to follow, " said the secretary, againcoming forward. 

"First, Resolved, That the tortuous channel of Wimbledon river be madestraight, and the tyrant man be compelled to perform the labor withthree-inch augers and pap-spoons. 

"Secondly, Resolved, That, the steeple of this church, which looms soboldly impious toward the sky, be felled to the ground, and be convertedinto a liberty-pole, with the cast-off petticoats of the enfranchisedwomen of Wimbledon flaunting proudly from its summit, as an emblem ofthe downfall of man's bigotry and despotism, and the triumphantelevation of woman to her proper sphere among the rulers of the earth. "

Great sensation as the lady secretary pronounced the foregoing resolves, with strong impressiveness of tone and manner. As she retired, Dea. Allen rose. The lady president sprang from her seat. 

"Sit down!" shrieked she, bringing her foot to the platform with aviolence that caused it to tremble. But the deacon did not drop at thissharp command, as Mr. Mumbles had done. 

"I thought you held to liberty and equal rights, " said he, with an airof some boldness. 

"I do, --and therefore I tell you to sit down. "

"I will speak, " said he, returning the defiant looks cast upon him byboth president and secretary; "for religion and right demand it. If youdare profane with your sacrilegious hands the holy steeple of this houseof God, avenging justice will fall with crushing weight upon your guiltyheads. "

Having delivered himself of this dread prediction, the deacon sat down. 

In her loftiest style, Mrs. Pimble moved the adoption of theresolutions, vouchsafing no word of comment on the impertinentinterruption. A brawling, discordant shout of "Ay--ay--ay, " in everypossible variety of tones, from a swarm of boisterous boys and rantingrowdies, was declared a unanimous approval, and in a storm of hisses andhurrahs the indignation meeting triumphantly adjourned. 

 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

 "Fare thee well! and if forever, Still forever, fare _thee well_, Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 

 Yet, O, yet thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not, Hearts can thus be torn away. Still thine own its life retaineth, Still must mine, though bleeding, beat, And the undying thought which paineth, Is, that we no more may meet. "

Sudden death had entered the home of Louise Edson and made her a widow. Her husband died of cholera, in a distant city, whence he had gone forthe purchase of goods, and was brought home a corpse. Louise reeled toearth beneath the sudden and unexpected blow. Her soul was lacerated byconstant memory of the wrong she had done him, and it seemed to heraroused and trembling conscience that avenging Heaven had taken toitself the man she had so deeply injured, and left her to grope darklyon in her own wickedness and sin. True she had been cruelly disappointed, and through long years compelled to struggle on in all the bitterloneliness of feelings unreplied to, bound by indissoluble chains to onewho had no tastes or sympathies in common with her. Death had freed hernow, but, ah! too late. The taint of sin was on her soul. She had forgother vows at the altar, debased herself and wronged her husband bylistening to words of passion from another. O, far less bitter wouldhave been her grief, as she stood weeping over his lifeless form, couldshe have laid her hand on the cold, damp brow and said, "I have lovedthee ever, and through life's cares and perplexities stood closely atthy side to cheer and smooth thy pathway. " But this she could not say. She only felt that the soul had gone to God, to learn her falsity andsin, and looked from the skies upon her with grief and avenging anger. Bitterly she thought of the man who had led her from the path ofrectitude, and resolved to see him no more. As a self-inflicted penance, she immured herself within the walls of her own mansion, and determinedto pass the remainder of her life in solitude. Many of her numerousfriends sought admittance to express sympathy and condolence in heraffliction, but she refused to see them and resisted all theirovertures. Only one person gained entrance to her seclusion. That wasMrs. Stanhope, whose kind heart was deeply pained by the apparentlyincurable sorrow that had settled on the mind of her young friend, andstrove, by every effort in her power, to lighten her woes and lead herto more hopeful views of the future. 

"It grieves me, " said she, "to see you, in the bloom of youth andhealth, immure yourself in a living tomb, and refuse the consolationsyou would receive from intercourse with your species. "

"I want no more of the world, " answered the sufferer; "it has nopleasure or enjoyment for me. "

"But, my dear, you should not allow your feelings to overpower yourbetter judgment, " remonstrated Mrs. Stanhope. 

"Ah, my feelings!" said Louise, bitterly, with tears rolling over herpale cheeks; "they have been my destruction. Had I always controlledthem, I had not been the miserable creature I am to-day. "

Mrs. Stanhope hardly understood this passionate outburst, but she stillstrove to soothe and comfort her afflicted friend. 

"Your brow is hot and feverish, " said she, rising to depart. "I cautionyou to calm yourself and take some rest, or severe sickness willprostrate you ere long. "

"And why should I fear sickness or death, " asked Louise, in a hopelesstone, "when the only calm for me is the calm of the grave, the only restits dreamless slumbers?"

Mrs. Stanhope gazed on the suffering face with tearful pity, and turnedaway. On opening the hall door, she encountered Col. Malcome, pacing toand fro on the icy piazza. He started suddenly on beholding her, andasked if she came from Mrs. Edson. Mrs. Stanhope answered affirmatively. 

"And how have you left her?" inquired he, with an expression of stronganxiety and emotion on his features. 

"She seems deeply afflicted, " returned Mrs. Stanhope. 

"Does she still persist in refusing to see her friends?" asked he. 

"She is thus disposed, I regret to say, " was Mrs. Stanhope's reply. 

"Would you do me the favor to return, and entreat her to grant me a fewmoments in her presence?" inquired he, in an earnest tone. 

"I will perform your request with pleasure, " she said; "but I fear Ishall bring you naught but a gloomy refusal. " Thus saying, she reënteredthe apartment of Louise. 

"I am come with a petition, Mrs. Edson, " she remarked, approaching herside, and laying a hand softly on the bowed head. "Will you grant ityour favor?"

"I must hear it first, " said Louise. 

"Col. Malcome is walking on the piazza; he wishes to see you. "

"Go and tell him, in another and a darker world I'll see him; neveragain in this, " answered Louise, starting to her feet, her whole frametrembling with excitement and anger. 

Mrs. Stanhope was astonished and alarmed at her appearance, and stoodgazing on her in wondering silence. At length she said, "I cannot take amessage like that to him; he would think it the wild raving of alunatic. "

"Tell him, then, to go away, and never approach these doors again, " saidLouise, suddenly bursting into tears. Mrs. Stanhope lingered in surpriseat her friend's emotion, and strove to soothe it. 

"Go, " said Louise; "I command you to go, and send him away. I shall dieif I hear another of his footfalls on the piazza. "

Alarmed by the dreadful energy of her manner, Mrs. Stanhope hurriedaway. The colonel came eagerly to her side, as she stepped forth. 

"Does she refuse me?" he asked. 

"She does, " said Mrs. Stanhope. 

"And does she give no encouragement that I may gain admittance at somefuture time?"

"None. "

"Then carry this to her, " said he, placing a small, folded letter inMrs. Stanhope's hand, and turning dejectedly away. 

Again she entered the mansion. Louise sat with head bowed between herhands, and did not raise her eyes. Mrs. Stanhope laid the missive on thetable beside her, and silently left the apartment. 

Twilight deepened into evening, and still the suffering woman sat there, in mute, unutterable agony. A servant entering with lights at lengtharoused her to consciousness, and her eye fell on the folded letterlying on the stand. Hastily tearing away the envelope, she dropped onher knees, and ran over its contents with devouring eagerness, while herfeatures worked with strong, conflicting emotions, and tears rolledcontinually from her beautiful eyes and blistered the written page. "Whydo you drive me from you?" it began. "If, in an unguarded moment, underthe intoxicating influences which your bewitching presence, the quietseclusion of the spot, and romantic hush and stillness of the hour threwaround me, all combining to lap my soul in delicious forgetfulness ofeverything beyond the momentary bliss of having you at my side, Isuffered words to escape my lips, which should have remained concealedin my own bosom, you might at least let the deep, overpowering lovewhich forced their utterance, plead as some extenuation for mypresumption and error. But it seems you have cast me from youforever--unpitied--unforgiven. O, Louise! I did not think you soimplacable. The sin is mine, and I would come on bended knee to implorepardon for the suffering and sorrow my rashness has brought to yourinnocent heart; but you fly from my approach, and banish me from yourpresence. No mercy for one, who, though he may have erred, is surelyatoning for his errors by anguish as deep, as poignant as your own. Night after night I walk the piazza beneath your windows. I know youhear my step and feel that I am near. But you will not open the casementand let me for a moment behold your features and crave your forgiveness. O, Louise, am I to die without a pitying word or look from you?

"I sit by my Edith's bed-side through long, weary midnight hours, andshe wakes from her fitful slumbers and asks for you. 'Why does she nevercome to see me now? There's no arm raises me so lightly, no hand bathesmy brow so gently, as hers. Will you not bring her, father?'

"O, what agony these words inflict! I have to feel my own rashness andfolly have deprived my sick child of a tender nurse. Louise, do you notremember one dear, bright morning, long ago, when I was sitting at thepiano in that pleasant parlor I'm forbidden to enter now, and you stoodbeside me in all your bewildering grace and beauty, that I sought fromyou a promise which was given? Still, still would I conjure you, asSteerforth said to David, _think of me at my best_. You will need to doit soon; for your contempt and scorn are hurrying me on to deeds ofcrime and wickedness. O, will you drive me to the wretch's doom, or winme to a life of happiness and virtue? It is yours to decide. "

Such were the contents of the letter which remained clenched in thegrasp of the agitated woman through the long hours of that woe-fraughtnight. When the first gray tints of dawn were visible, she started andhid it away in her bosom. Grasping a pen she traced a few lines withtrembling hand, and placed them in an envelope directed to Mrs. Stanhope. Then unclosing her wardrobe, she selected a few articles ofclothing, made them into a small bundle, and wrapping a heavy shawlround her slender form, and concealing her features in a large blackbonnet with a long, thick veil, she opened softly the hall door, andstole forth into the cold, biting air, walking hurriedly over the frostypaths till she had gained the lonesome country road beyond the village. 

As Mrs. Stanhope was sitting down to breakfast, a knock called her tothe door, where she beheld Mrs. Edson's servant, who presented her witha letter, and said her mistress had gone away very suddenly, and shewould like to know if she had left any word as to when she would return. 

Mrs. Stanhope broke the seal, and read with surprise and astonishmentdepicted on her features. The girl stood waiting to learn its contents. 

"I think, " said Mrs. Stanhope, suddenly recollecting herself, "that yourmistress will be absent some time. She informs me she has gone on avisit to the aunt with whom she resided previous to her marriage. "

"Where does her aunt live?" asked the girl. 

"I do not know, " returned Mrs. Stanhope, "but I think at a considerabledistance from this place. "

The girl retired, and Mrs. Stanhope reëntered the breakfast room. 

"Who was in the porch?" inquired Miss Pinkerton, as her sister assumedher place by the coffee urn. 

"Mrs. Edson's servant, " returned she, arranging the cups with an absentair. 

"What did she want?" asked Miss Martha, opening her muffin and droppinga piece of golden butter on its smoking surface. 

"She brought me a note from her mistress, " said Mrs. Stanhope, "who hasdeparted suddenly on a visit to her aunt, and wishes me to superintendthe care of her mansion for a time. "

"I guess she is coming out of her dumps, " said Martha. "I always saidthere was no danger of her dying of grief for the loss of a husband. She'll come home one of these days a gay widow, and set her cap for Col. Malcome. I always thought she had a liking for him. "

Mrs. Stanhope made no reply to this unfeeling speech. After breakfastthe colonel chanced in to take the long-forgotten package away, when helearned of Louise's sudden departure, and went home in a state ofincreased anguish and despair. 

 CHAPTER XXXIX. 

 "To the old forest home I hie me again; But I bring not the gladness My spirit knew when I roamed in my childhood Its wide-spreading bounds; For sorrows have pierced me, My soul wears the wounds. "

The Hermit of the Cedars sat in his antique room alone, by a peat-woodfire. He appeared wrapt in moody thought and contemplation, though everand anon, as the wintry blast gave a wilder sweep over the swaying roofabove him, he turned and glanced uneasily toward the door, as though hewished and waited the appearance of some form over its threshold. Butthe hours passed on, and no one came to cheer his loneliness. So, heaping the ashes over the glowing embers, he betook himself to hislowly couch, but his head had hardly touched the pillow when a quickstep crackling along the icy path struck his ear. Ere he could reach thedoor it was pushed open, and a voice called out hastily, "Uncle Ralph!"

"Edgar, my boy!" exclaimed the hermit, groping in the darkness to clasphim in his arms. "Are you returned at last?"

"Yes, dear uncle, " answered the young man; "I reached the village by theevening stage, and hurried with all speed to my old forest home. "

The hermit lighted a candle and raked open the coals. A bright fire soonburned on the hearth, and by its ruddy blaze the fond uncle marked thechanges two years had wrought in the appearance of his nephew. He wastaller, and a manly confidence of tone and manner had succeeded thereserve and timidity which characterized his boyhood. The luxuriantmasses of soft brown hair were brushed away from the clear, pale brow, and the deep blue eyes glowed in the conscious light of genius andintellectual fervor. The hermit gazed with ardent admiration on thecommanding elegance and beauty of the form before him. 

"Education and travel have made a wonderful improvement in yourappearance, my boy, " he remarked at length, his voice trembling withemotion as he spoke. "Still I don't know but I liked you better as thecurly-headed boy in morocco cap and little blue frock-coat, that used tocome bounding over the forest path, with his satchel in hand; or sethere of long winter evenings, reading some treasured volume at my side;or perched within the window nook gazing silently upward at theglistening stars;--for the dreamy boy I could keep near me, but thelofty, ambitious man I cannot hope to prison here in a solitarywilderness, --nor should I indulge in a wish so selfish, " he added. "Tellme, Edgar, of your travels, your enjoyments and occupations, since youdeparted from this lowly roof. "

The young man gave a brief rehearsal of the principal events of the pasttwo years. He hesitated somewhat when he came to his meeting and renewalof acquaintance with Florence Howard, recollecting his uncle's formeraversion to their intercourse. He might have passed over it in silence, but his delicate sense of honor would not allow him to deceive in thesmallest point the heart that loved him so devotedly. The listening manbent earnest, scrutinizing glances on the speaker's face as he proceededwith his tale, and when it was finished, bowed his gray head on his thinhands, as was his wont when engaged in deep thought, and remainedsilent. 

At length a tremendous blast swept through the forest, blew open thedoor, and scattered the coals from the deep fire-place over the floor ofthe apartment. The moody man started from his reverie. Edgar secured thedoor, and, taking a broom composed of small sprigs of hemlock and cedar, brushed the scattered embers into a pile. 

"Do you not wish to retire?" asked the hermit, as the young man resumedhis seat in the corner. 

"As you wish, uncle, " returned he; "I do not feel much fatigued. "

"Ay, but I think you are so, " said the kind-hearted man, regardingattentively his nephew's features. "My joy at beholding you has renderedme forgetful of your physical comforts. Let me get you some refreshment, and then you shall lie down and rest your weary limbs. "

The hermit took a small brown earthen jug from a rude shelf over thefire-place, and, pouring a portion of its contents into a bright-facedpewter basin, placed it on a heap of glowing coals. Then going to acupboard he brought forth a large wooden bowl, filled with a coarse, white substance. When the contents of the basin were warm he placed iton the table, and setting a chair, said, "Come, my boy, and partake ofthis simple food. 'Tis all I have to offer you; not like the daintyrepasts at which you are accustomed to sit in the abodes of wealth andfashion. "

Edgar approached and took the proffered seat. 

"Ay, " said he; "you have served me a dish more grateful to my palatethan the most delicately-prepared dainties would prove. This rich, sweetmilk is delicious, and who boils your hominy so nicely, uncle?" hecontinued, conveying several slices of the substance in the wooden bowlto his basin. 

"Dilly Danforth, the poor village washerwoman, cooks it, and her boy, Willie, brings it to me, " answered the hermit. 

"Ay, the lad you mentioned in one of your letters, " said Edgar. "Whydoes he not remain with you altogether? You seemed happy in hiscompanionship, and I hoped he might become to you a second Edgar. "

A strange expression passed over the face of the recluse as his nephew, with much earnest truthfulness of manner, gave utterance to these words. 

"I did like to have the boy with me, " he remarked; "but his mother waslonely without him. "

Edgar rose from his simple repast. 

"Now you had better retire, " said his uncle, tenderly; "though I fearyou will rest but ill on my hard couch. "

"My slumbers will be sweet as though I reposed on eider down, " returnedhe, "if you will but assure me that my coming or words have not marredyour quiet and composure. "

"My boy, " said the hermit, gazing on him anxiously, "what do you mean?How should the arrival of one I have so longed to behold give aught butjoy to my lonely soul?"

"I may have spoken words that grieved you, " said the young man, sorrowfully; "but I could not bear to conceal the truth from you, dearuncle;" and his voice trembled as he spoke. 

"Edgar, " returned the hermit, with emotion, "I am grateful for yourconfidence, and though I could have wished your heart's affectionsbestowed on some other woman, I will no longer oppose your inclinations. Marry Florence Howard if you choose. "

"Marry her!" exclaimed Edgar, suddenly breaking in upon his uncle'sdiscourse. "She is engaged to another. "

"What is his name?" asked the hermit. 

"Rufus Malcome, " returned the young man. 

"What! a brother to the girl I saw with you on the river bank?" inquiredthe recluse, with a sudden excitement of manner. 

"Yes, " said Edgar; "the brother of Edith Malcome. "

"O, the mysterious workings of fate!" exclaimed the hermit, fallingagain into a ruminating silence, which Edgar did not deem it wise todisturb. 

So they laid down on the lowly couch, and the young man, fatigued withhis journeyings, drew the coverings over his head to exclude the shrillshriekings of the sweeping blasts, and soon rested quietly in the sweetforgetfulness of sleep. 

Sleep! angel ministrant to the grief-stricken soul. How many that walkthis verdant earth would fain lie locked in her slumberous arms forever!

 CHAPTER XL. 

 "No voice hath breathed upon mine ear Thy name since last we met; No sound disturbed the silence drear, Where sleep entombed from year to year, Thy memory, my regret. "

In her own elegantly appointed apartment sat Florence Howard, with herjournal open upon the table. 

"Beneath the old roof-tree of home once more, " she wrote, "to find mymother's pale face yet paler than when I left her, and a sudden tremorand nervousness betrayed on the slightest unusual sound, which isexceeding painful to witness. 

"Hannah's penchant for me seems to have decreased somewhat, since fatherwaited on Col. Malcome and asked his consent to the delay of my proposednuptials with Rufus, till some change should occur in mother's health. Dr. Potipher thinks she will hardly survive the trying weather of theapproaching spring. 

"Poor, dear mother! what shall I do without her? But I may not lingerlong behind. 

"I used to think I was very miserable, when I pined in ignorance ofEdgar's love, and grew jealous of his attentions to gentle EdithMalcome; but what were those petty griefs, compared with the agony ofhaving known the sweet possession of his heart, and lost it, --lost it, too, through my own selfish folly and weakness? Truly, there's naught sobitter as self-reproach. Heaven only knows what I have suffered sincethat dreadful night, when I fled from his angry, reproachful looks, andlocked myself in the solitude of my chamber. And that freezing, distantrecognition on the following morning! O, what a shuddering horror willever creep over me with the memory of Franconia Notch! And MountWashington, --which was for aye to tower above all other scenes ofgrandeur earth's broadest extent could afford, --a thought of it unnervesmy soul with grief. What short-sighted mortals are we!

"I think my father suspects my secret and reproaches himself for givingme so free access to Edgar's company. I would not wonder if the delay hehas urged to my marriage were influenced as much by this sad knowledgeas my mother's failing health. Col. Malcome gave a reluctant assent, atwhich I am surprised. When his sweet daughter is sinking slowly intothe grave, 'tis strange he can think of any earthly interest. 

"I have looked mournfully toward the cedar forest to-night, and thoughtof the poor lone hermit in his humble hut, and wished, O, how ferventlywished! that I, like him, had a habitation afar from the world's hollowthrongs, where I could sit and brood in solitude over my broken heart!

"Am I not a living, breathing, suffering example of the truth of Byron'seloquent words?

 'The day drags on, though storms keep out the sun, And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on. '"

Florence closed her journal, and approached the window. 

As she was dropping the curtain to retire, a dark figure movingstealthily under the leafless branches of the lindens, which stood inrows on the least public side of the house, arrested her attention. Theremembrance of a similar appearance she had once seen crossed her mind, and no ill having followed that, she dismissed her fears, and ere longsank to rest. 

When the village clock pealed forth the hour of midnight, the darkfigure she had observed, stood on the terrace below. The hall door swungnoiselessly on its hinges, and Hannah Doliver stepped forth. "Here arethe matches and kindling-wood, " said she in a whisper, approaching thedusky form, and holding a small basket forward. 

"Are they all asleep?" asked a hushed voice. 

"Yes, " answered she. 

"See that you give the alarm in season, " returned the muffled figure, ashe took the basket from the woman's hand, and passed softly down thesteps of the piazza. 

Silently the destroying fires were lighted. But the midnight incendiarywould have proceeded less deliberately with his work of destruction, hadhe marked the tall, lank figure in a long, dark overcoat, andslouching-brimmed hat, which slowly dogged closely his every footstep. Suddenly a bright flash leaped up from the fragments the wicked mansought to enkindle, and revealed his garb and features. A mingledexpression of hatred and revenge glared from the sunken eyes of hisfollower, who stood in the shadow of a linden near by, as the pale, handsome features and light, curling locks of the incendiary met hisgaze. 

"Villain!" exclaimed he, springing forward, as the man turned with ahurried step from his work of destruction; "would you burn innocentpeople in their beds?"

With one fell blow the man dashed the lank form to the earth, and fleddown the avenue of cedars, which led to the river, never heeding thestartled looks of a thin woman, and tall, graceful youth, against whosesides he brushed in his guilty flight. 

"Who could that flying figure have been?" asked the lad of the woman, when the man had rushed past. 

"I don't know, indeed, Willie, " answered she, "unless it was yourfriend, the hermit, gone wild. You say he has been more gloomy thanusual for several days. "

"O, no!" returned the youth; "it was not the hermit. I distinguishedthis man's features very plainly as he passed, and it was no one I eversaw before. He had no covering on his head, and his hair was light andcurly. His face seemed glowing with rage and anger. "

"It must have been some lunatic escaped from the asylum, " said thewoman. 

"Well, I think you are right, mother, " answered the boy. "I hope he hasnot harmed the poor hermit, whom I left sitting on a stone among thecedars, near Major Howard's mansion. He came thus far with me to-night, as it was so late, and the way long and gloomy. "

"Ah! he was very kind, " remarked the woman. "I began to fear you werenot coming for me, Willie, and thought I should have to remain at Mr. Pimble's all night, or go home alone. Is the hermit's nephew still withhim?"

"No, he went away this morning, and the poor old man is very lonely andsad. He said he wished I could be with him all the time. "

"Strange being!" said the woman. "Why does he not leave the forest, anddwell among his fellow-men?"

"I think it is because he experienced some disappointment in his youth, "answered the lad, "and has come to distrust all his species. "

"It may be so, " returned the woman. "I have heard of such instances. Heis very kind to you, my boy, and but for his little bundles of sticks, Ithink we must have perished during your long illness through thatpiercing cold winter. Strange are the realities of life; stranger thanfiction! When the rich Mr. Pimble drove me from his threshold, the poorhermit of the forest braved the bleak storms, and laid the charitablepiles on my poverty-stricken threshold. "

The mother and son had now reached their humble abode. 

"Willie, " said she, "I wish you would run down by the river and gatherup the few pieces of linen I washed and spread out there yesterday. Thewind is rising fast, and they will blow away before morning. "

The boy hastened to perform her request, and in a few moments camerushing into the house, and exclaimed:

"Mother! mother! Major Howard's house is all on fire! I am going upthere, " and, flinging the pieces he held in his arms on the table, heflew off toward the burning mansion. 

Mrs. Danforth followed him to the door and discovered his words were buttoo true. Long tongues of flame darted upward to the sky, and ranfiercely over the walls and terraces of the mansion. The church bell waspealing madly to rouse the slumbering people to the rescue; but the firegained so rapidly in the sweeping wind, all efforts to quench it couldnot prove otherwise than futile. To save the lives of the inmates wouldbe the utmost which could be done, and even this seemed a perilousundertaking. 

Willie Danforth was rushing up the avenue of cedars, when, just as hewas entering the grounds of the burning mansion, he stumbled over somelarge object which obstructed the path. It moved beneath, and, by theglare of the flames, he discovered the body of his friend, the hermit, lying at full length upon the frozen ground. The prostrate man openedhis eyes and recognized Willie. 

"O, my good boy, I am sadly hurt!" said he, feebly. "Will you help me torise and get away from this place?"

Willie, who forgot everything, even the burning mansion before him, incare and pity for his friend, raised him to his feet, and halfsupporting the tall, thin form in his young, strong arms, drew him downthe long avenue and along the river bank to his mother's dwelling. 

And that night the insensible form of the Hermit of the Cedars laystretched upon the low couch of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. 

 CHAPTER XLI. 

 "There are so many signs of wickedness Around me, that my soul is pressed with fear. O, that the power divine would kindly aid Me in my need, and save me from the wiles And artful plottings of this wicked man! For though he speaks so soft, and smiles so fair, I've seen at times a strange look in his eye Which doth convince me that his soul is black within. "

Col. Malcome flung wide the doors of his elegant mansion to receive thesuffering family who, in the space of a few short hours, had lost theirall of earthly wealth by the subtle element of fire. The invalided Mrs. Howard was borne on a litter to an apartment so warm and complete in itsarrangements, as to almost wear the appearance of having been fitted upexpressly to receive her in her forlorn and unsheltered condition. Large, richly-furnished rooms, all glowing bright in their luxuriouscomforts, were also in readiness for Florence and her father. The latterwas nearly overwhelmed with grief and dismay at his sudden andirremediable loss. Col. Malcome strove by every means in his power toassuage and lighten his sorrows. 

"My house is your home as long as you choose to make it so, MajorHoward, " said he one morning after the afflicted family had been severalweeks partakers of his generous hospitality. 

"I cannot consent to burden you with my family any longer than while Ican find some place to which I can remove them, " answered he. "And thenI must engage in some kind of business to provide for their support. This unfortunate accident has given my wife so dreadful a shock, I fearshe will not long survive it. "

A significant smile appeared for a moment on Col. Malcome's features atthese latter words, but he concealed it from the distressed man, andreplied, "It grieves me to hear you talk thus. Why should you regardyour family as burdensome guests beneath my roof, when we are soon to belinked in the ties of relationship by the union of our children?"

"True!" returned Major Howard. "Such a union has been proposed, but----"

"But what?" asked Col. M. 

"You may not look as favorably on its consummation now as formerly. "

"Judge not so meanly of me, my friend!" said he, warmly. "Yourdaughter's rich soul and personal charms are all the wealth I desire inthe lady who shall become the wife of my son. "

Major Howard was silent. 

"I do not wish to hasten this marriage, " resumed the colonel, "becauseyou expressed a desire, several months ago, that it should be delayedtill a change occurred in your wife's situation (a strange emphasis onthe word _wife_); but were it consummated, your family could occupyone-half of my mansion with no expense to me till Rufus should rebuildthe one you have recently lost by fire. "

Major Howard's face suddenly brightened. The colonel saw he had made ahit, and followed up his advantage so adroitly that e'er the twainparted, the father had consented that the marriage between his daughterand the colonel's son should take place within four weeks. He sought hisdaughter and communicated the intelligence. Florence received it insilence. She felt they were without a home in the wide world, and at themercy of the man under whose roof they were sheltered. A strange horrorwas seizing upon her soul and bowing her spirits to the earth. Therewere many looks and glances around her she could not understand; butthey seemed possessed of some dark and hidden meaning. Hannah Doliver'sglee knew no bounds. She followed Rufus from morning till night, andappeared uneasy if he was a moment beyond her sight. The young manreturned her fondness with hatred and contempt. Edith, with her pale, wan face and sunken eyes, looked the mere shadow of her former self. During her long illness, her beautiful head had been shorn of its ripplywealth of auburn curls, and, as she lay languidly on the soft cushionsof her luxuriant couch, few would have recognized in that wasted formthe once radiant Edith Malcome. She had a feverishness and uncertaintyof temper common to long-confined invalids. Florence could find littlecompanionship in her society; besides, she was too weak to endure theexcitement of laughter and conversation. 

Rufus sought his affianced bride at every opportunity; and the onlyplace where she could rest secure from his interruptions was theapartment of her mother, where he never ventured to intrude, beingpossessed of a strange fear and dread of sick people. He never visitedEdith, unless compelled to do so by his father. 

Florence was one day sitting in the deep recess of one of thedrawing-room windows, with the massy folds of purple damask droopedbefore her, occupied in the perusal of a book of poems, when asuccession of low, murmuring sounds near by, disturbed her, andlistening a moment she heard Col. Malcome say, in a smothered tone, "There's no fear of detection; all moves on bravely, and we shall have ablooming young bride here in a few weeks. "

Then there was a low, chuckling laugh, which Florence recognized asHannah Doliver's. After a while the woman spoke in a stifled voice, "Don't you want to see _her_?" she said. "I should think you would. "There was a slight malice in her tone, which appeared to irritate himsomewhat. 

"I can wait very well till the ceremony is performed, " he answered atlength. "Of course, she will appear at the marriage of her daughter. " Astrange emphasis on the last word. 

"But come, " he added directly, "we must not linger here. Some of thefamily may observe us. "

Thus speaking, they passed out of the apartment, relieving Florence ofthe fear with which she had been shaking during their whole conversationlest they should discover her retreat in the window. 

When they were gone, she clasped her hands, and exclaimed in a low, butfervent tone, "Will no arm save me from the power into which I havefallen?"

For several days she sought an opportunity to speak privately with herfather, but his attention was so incessantly occupied by Col. Malcome, that none presented. 

When at last she gained his ear, he laughed her suspicions to scorn, andbade her never come to him with such an idle tale again. 

The good-natured major was infatuated by, what he termed, the munificentmagnanimity of Col. Malcome, and, moreover, had been nurtured inluxurious tastes, and the prospect of reïnstating himself in an eleganthome by so easy a process as the marriage of his daughter, was toodesirable to be allowed to vanish lightly away. 

 CHAPTER XLII. 

 "And they dare blame her! they whose every thought Look, utterance, act, hath more of evil in 't Than e'er she dreamed of or could understand, And she must blush before them, with a heart Whose lightest throb is worth their all of life!"

In a neat, but scantily furnished apartment of a small, white cottagesat Louise Edson beside the low window which looked forth on a greatfrowning building with grated bars and ponderous iron doors. 

"Is this a prison across the yard, aunt?" she asked of a tall, solemnwoman, in a black head-dress, who had just entered the room, and stoodlaying some fresh fuel on the fire. 

"It is the county jail, " replied she. 

"How it makes me shudder to look at it!" said Louise, turning from thewindow, and assuming a chair near her aunt, who was taking a quantity ofsewing from a work-basket. 

"It reminds me of a lady who was my near neighbor in Wimbledon, and whohas been my sole companion for several months, to see you constantlyoccupied with your needle, " remarked Louise, looking on her aunt as sheassorted her cotton and arranged her work. 

"What is the lady's name, of whom you speak?" inquired the woman. 

"Mrs. Stanhope, " answered Louise; "she is a kind soul. It pains me tothink I shall never see her again. "

"Do you not intend to return to your late home?" inquired the aunt, somewhat surprised at the words of her niece. 

"Never!" returned Louise, with strong emphasis, "I could not endure it. "

"Pshaw! you will get over this weakness in a little while, " said heraunt. "You have half-conquered it by coming away, and you will completethe victory by returning. "

"I tell you no, " said Louise, somewhat angered by her aunt'spersistence. "I have already written to Mr. Richard Giblet, one of theformer firm of Edson & Co. , to settle my affairs in Wimbledon, disposeof my late residence, and remit the proceeds to me in drafts. "

The aunt looked astonished at this piece of intelligence, and said, "Youhave been rash and premature, my child, and I fear will regret yourhasty proceedings. "

"If you knew how much it relieved me to get out of that place, aunt, youwould not fear I should ever wish to return. I was so near my enslaverthere, and my heart said all the time, 'O, I _must_ see him!' whileconscience whispered sternly, 'You _dare_ not do it. ' There was aconstant war 'twixt love and reason, which threatened the exterminationof the latter. "

"I am glad you have been ruled by your better judgment, " said her aunt;"passion always leads us astray when we listen to its voice. "

"That is very true, " answered Louise; "but O that I had known it only byprecept, and not by experience!"

"Experience is called the best teacher, " remarked the aunt. 

"It is the most bitter one, " returned Louise. "How I wish you had beenwith me through the few brief years of my married life! With your kindcare and admonitions I think I would never have strayed darkly into sinand error. "

"We all err sometimes in our lives, " said her aunt; "and I cannotdiscover as you have wandered so far from the paths of rectitude thatyour return to them should seem a thing impossible. "

"But did I not tell you how I deceived my husband?" asked Louise, looking wofully in the face of her aunt. 

"Yes, " returned she, calmly. "Did he never deceive you?"

Louise paused a few moments, and answered, "I _was_ deceived when Imarried him, but it was by my own blindness. However, the deception didnot last long, " she added, with a spice of her old spirit. 

"And when it passed away, " said her aunt. 

"Don't recall those terrible hours to my mind, " interrupted Louise, quickly, "lest I should forget the double share of respect I owe thedead in that I failed to give them their due on earth. "

"I would not have the dead wronged, " returned her aunt; "but I wouldhave the living righted. You used to be free and unrestrained in yourintercourse with me in the glad days of childhood and youth. I oftenfeared some envious sorrow would overtake you to chill and despoil thatbuoyant exuberance of life and gayety. You were too wildly rich in heartand soul. You wasted more love on a pet rabbit than would eke out thewhole passion life of a score of poorer natures. O, Louise, I trembledwhen you stood before the altar and took the vows of faithfulness to Mr. Leroy Edson. I knew you fancied that you loved him, and thought in thewild potency of your passion to bear him skyward on your soaringpinions; but, ah! I saw how sadly his clogging weight would drag you tothe earth. "

She paused, and Louise was silent, but her face showed traces of tears. 

"Do not think me severe, " resumed her aunt; "I am only just. Now tell mewith your old-time confidence, why did you love another man while yourhusband lived?"

"It was because, "---- Louise hesitated, and then added, "because I waswicked. "

"And for what other reason?" pursued her aunt. 

"And because I was tired, " Louise went on in a dreamy tone, as ifthinking aloud to herself, "and because I was hungry. "

"Your expressions begin to assume the old, quaint, humorous form, " saidthe aunt smiling. "I suppose you mean your soul was tired for want ofsomething on which to rest, and hungry for want of its propernourishment. "

"That's what I mean, aunt; but then I do not seek excuse for the crimeof stealing to appease the cravings of my hunger. "

"A famishing man has never yet been hung for stealing to sustain life. "

"You draw a strong comparison, aunt, " said Louise, laughing in spite ofherself. 

"To meet a strong case, " returned she. "It is a duty I owe you to use mybest efforts to destroy this morbid melancholy which is preying on yourspirits. I know nothing of the man you have loved. He may or may not beworthy of your affections. It is not his cause I plead. But I woulddivest you of the false glasses through which your sensitive brain, wrought on by high excitement, and shocked by a sudden calamity, hascome to regard the events of your past life, and let you behold themagain with your own natural sight. If I can effect this, I confidentlytrust to your good reasoning powers to set all right again. "

Louise remained silent after her aunt ceased speaking, but hercountenance evinced far more energy and hopefulness than at thecommencement of the conversation. At length she rose and said, "Well, aunt, I think I have as much logic as my weak brain can digest in onenight, so I'll retire to my bed-room, if you please. "

In a few weeks, young Mrs. Edson, under the tuition of herstrong-minded, sensible aunt, regained a share of her former vivacity, and declared she would be quite herself again were it not for that greatblack jail in the adjoining yard, which frowned on her every morning andloomed dismally in her dreams. 

 CHAPTER XLIII. 

 "Ah, why Do you still keep apart, and walk alone, And let such strong emotions stamp your brow, As not betraying their full import, yet Disclose too much! Disclose too much!--of what? What is there to disclose? A heart so ill at ease. "

The preparations for the nuptials of Florence Howard with Rufus Malcomewere rapidly progressing. 

The services of Dilly Danforth were put in active requisition. Day afterday her tall, thin form was seen moving to and fro the great mansion, washing windows, polishing grates, and brightening the silver knobs andplates of the mahogany doors. Col. Malcome, in his delight at theapproaching marriage of his son, resolved to give a large fête on theoccasion, and no pains were spared to render it the most costly andsumptuous affair ever presented to the gaze of the people of Wimbledon. The greatest expense was lavished upon the wedding-banquet, and theyoung bride's trousseau might have vied in magnificence and profusionwith that of a royal princess. 

All this display and grandeur was revolting to Florence. It humbled andmortified her proud, independent nature to owe the expensive decorationof her approaching bridal to the generosity of the man she was about tomarry. 

Col. Malcome appeared in the most fitful spirits as the preparationsadvanced toward their completion. He paced the piazzas for hourstogether, with hurried, excited steps, pausing often and mutteringindistinctly to himself. 

Sometimes he stood before a window in a dejected attitude, and gazedmournfully over the intervening gardens and cottages toward the elegantand stately mansion lately occupied by the Edsons, which stood on asmall elevation just across the river, in the midst of beautifulgrounds. Then, as he turned suddenly away, his countenance would changefrom its expression of gloomy regret to one of fierceness and angryrevenge. 

At length the night, whose morrow was to witness the long-expectedceremony, drew on. Great torrents of rain were flooding the streets anddashing dismally against the casements of the mansion which was, erelong, to blaze in the light of the festive scene. 

Still, Col. Malcome, unheeding the storm, walked the wet marbles of thepiazzas, with arms folded over his chest and head bowed, in a state ofabsent, moody absorption. At length the hall-door opened, and Rufusadvanced to his father's side. 

"What do you want with me?" said the colonel, turning quickly towardhim. 

"Not much, " returned the son. "I heard you walking here, and thought Iwould join you, as there was no one in the house to keep me company. "

"Where is Major Howard?"

"With his wife, " answered Rufus. 

"And Hannah?" continued the colonel. 

"Don't mention that detestable creature!" said the young man angrily. "Ican't abide her. So she is out of my sight, I care not where she is. "

"Why do you hate the woman so?" asked Col. M. "She seems very fond ofyou. "

"Yes! I cannot move but what she follows me. It is strange Major Howardretains such a bold, impudent slut in his service. "

The colonel coughed slightly and remained silent. 

At length Rufus spoke again hesitatingly, "Father!" said he. 

"Well!" returned Col. M. , in a tone which indicated for him to proceed. 

"I don't want to marry Florence Howard, " said the young man, with agreat gulp, as though it cost him a mighty effort to pronounce thewords. 

"Why not?" asked the father, apparently unheeding his son's emotion. "Don't you love the girl?"

"Love her!" repeated Rufus. "I don't know whether I do or not; but I amafraid of her. "

"Afraid of a little, puny girl!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, in a toweringrage, "I did not think you such a pitiful craven. "

The young man seemed angered by his father's words, but made no retort. 

"Why are you afraid of her?" inquired the colonel after a while. 

"Because she looks so proud and stern upon me, and treats me with suchscorn and contempt. "

"O, never mind that!" said his father. "When she is once your wife trustme to lower her loftiness, and make her as meek and humble as you couldwish. Let us go in now. How wildly this storm is driving! I hope it mayclear before the hour for the marriage arrives. " Thus speaking, thefather and son entered the hall and sought their respective apartments. 

While this scene was passing on the piazza, Florence sat in her roomwith her journal open on the table before her. 

"The last evening of my free, unfettered existence has drawn on, " shewrote. "How wildly shrieks the wind, driving great torrents of rainagainst my curtained casements! It is fit a night like this should usherin my day of doom. Father seems delighted with the approaching festival, and mother has lost the dread she formerly evinced, which I now thinkwas occasioned by the fear of losing me from her side. Hannah is almostwild with glee. She follows the steps of Rufus closely as his shadow. Hehates her, and in this one point our feelings sympathize, but in noother. It is impossible to describe the loathing and abhorrence withwhich I regard the man who in a few more hours will be my husband. O, heavens! will no power save me from a fate so dreadful as a lifetimepassed with him? Alas, no! Our beautiful home is gone, and we are poor, and had been shelterless but for these walls, which opened their doorsto take us in. And can I make so poor a return for this friendlygenerosity, or so ungratefully scorn and reject the means presented toreïnstate my father in wealth and magnificence, as to refuse to performthe act which will repay the kindness and restore to him the eleganthome whose loss he so deeply deplores? O, no! I must not be so selfishand ungrateful. Still, it seems a great sacrifice even to insure afather's ease and happiness. I have an increasing dread and horror ofthis Col. Malcome, which I cannot overcome, despite all his apparentgenerosity and sympathy in our misfortune, and lavish display ofprofusion and splendor with which he surrounds this approaching bridal. It seems to me all this munificence goes to serve some fell purpose ofhis own. His strange power over my easy-natured father excites darkapprehensions in my bosom. But why torture myself with imagined ills, when the dread realities are sufficient to unnerve my soul! Now, amidthis piteous wailing of storm and wind, I write the last words on thesedear old leaves as Florence Howard, and betake me to my pillow, --but O, not to sleep! The bride of to-morrow will make a sorry figure in hersilks and jewels. "

 CHAPTER XLIV. 

 "As Heaven is my spirit's trust, So may its gracious power Be near to aid and strengthen me When comes the trial hour. "

The hour drew on; the guests assembled, and the minister waited theentrance of the bridal party to perform the solemn ceremony. 

The storm drove wildly without the mansion, in strange contrast with theglowing warmth and luxuriance of the apartments within. 

Col. Malcome sat on a velvet sofa, in graceful attire, supporting thewasted form of his daughter; who, thin, pale, and white as the garb shewore, leaned her head, all shorn of its beautiful curls, heavily againsthis shoulder. It was a sad sight to behold that feeble, emaciated figurerising from a bed of disease and pain, to mingle among the festivegroups which filled those splendid drawing-rooms. 

Suddenly there was a stir in the hall, and the bridal group entered. Florence, with the tips of her gloved fingers just touching the arm ofthe man who was in a few moments to become her husband, moved gracefullyto the seat assigned her. She was magnificently arrayed in rose-coloredsatin, with an over-skirt of elegantly-wrought Parisian lace, and aspray of pearls and diamonds flashed their brilliant rays through theluxuriant dark curls that clustered round her pale, sweet brow, and fellin rich profusion over her white, uncovered shoulders. 

Rufus was arrayed in a glossy garb of the finest black broadcloth, witha spotless vest of pearl-tinted satin, and immaculate white kids. Hisdark visage, small, peering black eyes, and low-bred, clownish aspect, contrasted strangely with the brilliant creature at his side. 

The maids and groomsmen were in splendid attire, and looked proud anddelighted with the notice their position attracted from the assembledgroups. 

Then came Major Howard, with a beaming countenance; his invalid lady, who had summoned all her strength and fortitude to be present on theoccasion, leaning on his arm. 

Col. Malcome rose politely and gave her a seat on the sofa beside hisdaughter, assuming himself a chair on the opposite side of the room. 

Hannah Doliver, in a very elaborate dress of gay plaided silk, her jetblack hair twisted into wiry ringlets, sat before her mistress, holdinga fan and silver vial, to serve the invalid's need, should the unusualexcitement produce a sudden nervous attack. 

A significant glance was exchanged between Major Howard and Col. Malcome, when the latter arose, and, bowing to the clergyman who was toofficiate on the occasion, said: "All is in readiness to proceed withthe ceremony. "

The man of God came slowly forward, with a grave and solemn aspect. Ashe was about to request the bridal group to rise, a stamping of heavyfeet on the piazza outside the windows arrested his words; and directlythe hall door was flung open with furious vehemence, and a party, consisting of four tall, brawny men, in dripping hats and overcoats, rushed into the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind them, withthe storm rushing in upon the assembly in its wildest fury. 

Col. Malcome sprang to his feet, his face glowing with anger at thismost untimely and insulting intrusion. 

"_Arrest that man!_" exclaimed the foremost of the strangers, pointinghis arm toward the form of the colonel, who stood glowering upon thespeaker with wrathful aspect. 

"For what?" said Major Howard, leaping from his seat, as two strong menrushed forward to execute the command. 

"For destroying your buildings by fire, on the night of the twelfth ofJanuary last, " said the man who had ordered the arrest, whom the majornow recognized as the sheriff of the county. 

"Prove your words! prove your words!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, dartingback from the grasp of the men who approached to imprison him. 

"I am prepared to do so, " returned the sheriff, motioning a tall, lankform, in a long overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, which stood near thedoor, to advance. 

"You were in the grounds adjoining Major Howard's mansion on the nightof the twelfth of January last, " said he, addressing thesingular-looking man, whose features were so entirely hidden by hiscollar and hat-brim, as to be indiscernible. 

The figure bowed low in token of assent. 

"What did you see there?"

The _Hermit of the Cedars_ hesitated a moment, as if to collect histhoughts, while the gaze of every person in the room was riveted uponhim, and a breathless silence reigned as he commenced to speak in a low, measured tone of assurance and courage. 

"I saw a man in dark clothes standing on the piazza of the doomedmansion. A figure in female garb appeared from within, and, after abrief, whispered conversation, left a small basket in his hand, andretired whence she had come. Then the man, after glancing cautiouslyaround him, descended the steps and proceeded to light the fires. Inthree different places the devouring element was kindled, and, as hestooped to blow the light fragments with his breath, the flames suddenlyleaped forth and revealed in startling distinctness the face andfeatures of the incendiary. His hat had fallen to the ground and lefthis head exposed, which was covered with a profusion of light, auburnhair, clustering in short, thick curls around a high, pale forehead. "

Major Howard sprang from his seat. 

"Sir!" said he, darting an enraged glance on the strange man, "are you afool? Do you not see the hair of the man you would accuse is black asmidnight, while you affirm that of the one who fired my mansion to havebeen of a flaxen hue?"

The hermit seemed not in the least disconcerted by this speech. Raisingthe long cane on which his arms had been resting, he lifted the blackcloud of curls from the head of Col. Malcome and dashed it upon thefloor. 

"Herbert Mervale!" shrieked the invalided Mrs. Howard. 

On hearing this voice the muffled man, who had thrown off hisbroad-brimmed hat, turned suddenly round. 

"And Ralph Greyson!" she added. 

Then throwing her arms around the wasted form of Edith Malcome, sheexclaimed: "My daughter! my daughter! is it thus I find you?" and sankinsensible on the sofa beside her. 

Hannah Doliver sprang toward Rufus, covering him with kisses and callinghim her "dear, dear son. "

The young man threw her roughly to the floor, and, alarmed by the suddenscene of tumult and confusion, rushed into the street. 

Florence clung close to the side of her father, who seemed struck dumbwith horror and amaze. 

At length the sheriff approached him. "Do you wish further proofsagainst the man we accuse?" he demanded. 

"Take the villain away!" roared Major Howard, bursting suddenly into aterrific ebullition of anger, "and burn him at the stake. Hanging is tooeasy death for such a monster of wickedness!"

The assembly, terrified by the angry, tumultuous scene, began todisperse. 

"Pause for a brief moment, my friends, " said the major, growing somewhatcalmer; "I have a few words of explanation 'tis meet you should hear. That man, " pointing to Col. Malcome, who stood in the strong grasp ofhis keepers, glaring around him with the ferocity of a baffled tiger, "is the wretch who married my sister to steal her fortune, and leave herin poverty and distress with a young babe at her breast, to debauchhimself with her serving-woman, by whom he had also a child. There liesthe woman he has wronged, " said he, his face growing fiercer, as hepointed to the form of the supposed Mrs. Howard, cast lifelessly on thesofa beside Edith Malcome, "at the feet of her daughter, and therestands the vile creature, " pointing a wrathful finger toward HannahDoliver, "who was his leman. But her bastard boy has fled the embrace ofhis polluted mother. My sister returned to me, after suffering inhumanbarbarities from this monster, but he withheld her child. Her heart wasbroken by misfortune, and her only wish was to pass the remainder of herlife in quiet and seclusion. My wife died when this dear girl was aninfant, " said he, taking the hand of Florence in his, who stood with hereyes fixed immovably on her father's face; "and I besought my sister tostand in the place of a mother to my little daughter. "

Florence directed a quick, troubled glance toward the form which stilllay motionless on the sofa beside Edith, but did not move. 

"I have no more to say, " resumed the major more calmly; "the artfulwickedness which has threatened my ruin is exposed. Officers of justice, do your duty! Take Herbert Mervale from my presence!"

The strong men grasped the form of the prisoner and marched him from theroom. The baffled villain made no resistance. He closed his eyes toavoid beholding the loathing, abhorrent glances which were showered onhim from all sides. 

As the hermit was slowly following the receding group, Major Howardstepped to his side, and, laying his hand lightly on his arm, said:

"Will you not remain till the guests have retired?"

"No, " answered the recluse, shaking his head sadly, "I have done my dutyand had better depart. "

"You have saved me from destruction, " said Major Howard, in a tonetrembling with grateful emotion, as he seized the thin, emaciated handof the hermit, and pressed it warmly to his bosom; "how shall I rewardyou?"

"I seek no reward from your generosity, " returned the solitary, escapingfrom the grasp which detained him; "the consciousness of having doneright is sufficient recompense. "

Thus speaking, he turned away. Major Howard returned to the parlors. Theguests were departing, and the several members of the family haddisappeared. 

He hurried to the apartment occupied by his sister, and there beheld herand Edith lying side by side, apparently in tranquil sleep, withFlorence and Sylva, Edith's maid, watching at the bed-side. 

Hannah Doliver was nowhere to be seen. 

Florence advanced to meet her father, and, twining her armaffectionately round his neck, turned a tender glance on the pale facesof the sleepers, and said:

"O, father! father! let us kneel by this low couch and thank God forthis merciful deliverance!"

 CHAPTER XLV. 

 ---------------------"All this is well; For this will pass away, and be succeeded By an auspicious hope, which shall look up With calm assurance to that blessed place Which all who seek may win, whatever be Their earthly errors, so they be atoned; And the commencement of atonement is The sense of its necessity. "

Baby No. 2, had appeared at the home of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and thedelighted grandmother held the tiny little creature this way and thatway, gazing on its features with the most doting fondness, and nearlysmothering it with affectionate kisses. 

And baby No. 2 did not squeal like its lusty-lunged predecessor. O, no!it had the softest little feminine quackle, for all the world like adowny young gosling; and Mrs. Salsify said she would have it calledGoslina, it quackled so sweetly. So Goslina Shaw was the euphonioussobriquet of baby No. 2, and the joyful grandame returned it to the bedbeside the pale face of its mother, where 'twas quackling off to sleep, when Mr. Salsify came in from the store, his features glowing, as if hehad some startling intelligence to convey. 

"My sakes! what is it, Mr. Mumbles?" asked the fond wife quickly markingher husband's excited manner. 

"I guess folks will have something to talk about besides my gettinggagged at the Woman's Convention, " said Mr. Salsify, rather maliciously, drawing a chair before the grate and placing his feet on the fender. 

"Why, what has happened?" inquired his wife, eagerly. 

"Enough has happened, " returned he, "if all Martha Pinkerton has justbeen telling me is true. "

"Where did you see her?" asked Mrs. Salsify. 

"She came into the store to-night to buy a chunk of cheese; so I askedher what was the news? when she told me of the awfulest tragedy thatoccurred at Col. Malcome's the night they undertook to get FlorenceHoward married to the colonel's son. "

"O, mercy, who was killed?" exclaimed Mrs. S. , with uplifted hands. 

"Nobody as I know of, " returned Mr. Mumbles, whose ideas of a tragedywere different from those of his good wife; "but then the whole companymight have been, for they had a murderer amongst them. "

"Mercy to me, how awful!" said Mrs. Salsify. "What was his name and howdid he get there?"

"His name was Col. Malcome, and he got there by his own wickedness. "

"You don't mean to tell me that handsome Col. Malcome is a murderer!"exclaimed Mrs. Salsify, with terror depicted on her features. 

"Yes I do, and worse than that; he burned Major Howard's house, andtried to get his pretty daughter married to her own brother. "

"How can Rufus Malcome be a brother to Florence Howard?" asked Mrs. Mumbles, in amaze. "You are talking nonsense to me, I fear. "

"O, no, " returned her husband. "I tell you this Colonel Malcome hasturned out the strangest. He is Major Howard's mother, and DillyDanforth's aunt, and that old hermit's sister, and the Lord knows whoand what else; but they have carried him off to jail, so there'll be nochance for him to burn any more houses. "

Here Mr. Mumbles drew a long breath and rested a while. 

"I am glad I didn't marry him, " said a feeble voice from the bed. 

"So am I, my daughter, " said the father quickly; "and you may thank mefor having saved you from a fate so deplorable. Your mother was mightilytaken with this colonel when he came fawning round us, and she waspretty cross when I told her it would not do to let him marry you. Iknew that great black head was full of wickedness, and so it hasproved. "

Mrs. Salsify sat rather uneasily while her husband vaunted his superiorknowledge of human nature, but the gentle Goslina began to quackle fromthe bed, and she soon forgot all else in care for the dear littlecreature. 

While this conversation was passing at the home of the Mumbles, theHermit of the Cedars sat before the glowing fire which brightened therough walls of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. He had acknowledgedhimself as her long-absent brother, and great was her joy at beholdinghim again, though she grieved to know how one deep sorrow had blastedhis early promise and made him a wretched, solitary recluse. 

"I fear, " said she, at length, "you must still feel bitterly toward mefor the low connection I was so unfortunate as to form, which biased themind of your fair lady's brother against your suit. "

"No, my sister, " returned the hermit, in a tone of tender sadness; "Ideeply regret the harshness and wrong I visited upon you in the wildfury of that early disappointment, for I have learned no act of yoursinfluenced Major Howard against my suit. It was the wily artfulness ofmy rival, who breathed specious tales of my unworthiness in the ear ofthe brother, and caused her, the fair, unsuspecting girl, to turn fromme and give her hand to Mervale. "

The hermit's voice trembled as he pronounced these latter words, and hebowed his head in silence. The sister pitied the sorrow which she knewnot how to soothe. 

At length Willie entered, his face all bright with smiles. 

"What makes you look so glad?" asked his mother, gazing with fondadmiration on the tall, handsome boy; for she still regarded him as achild, though he was nearly grown to man's estate. 

"I have got something for Uncle Ralph, " said he, looking cunningly inthe hermit's face. 

"What is it, William?" inquired he, with a solemn smile. 

The youth drew a letter from his pocket and placed it in his uncle'shand. 

"It is from Edgar, " said he, eagerly breaking the seal. 

All were silent while he was occupied in the perusal. 

"Edgar has received the disclosures in regard to the pretended Col. Malcome with unaffected astonishment, " remarked the hermit, as herefolded the letter and placed it in his bosom. "He appears delighted tolearn that Willie Danforth, of whom he has heard me speak soregardfully, is his cousin, and sends much love to him and also to hisnew-found aunt. "

Mrs. Danforth looked gratified at these words, as did also Willie. 

"I am sure I want to see him very much, " said the latter. "When is hecoming home, uncle?"

"In summer, when the woods are green, he says, " returned the hermit; "heis now taking sketches in the vicinity of Richmond, Va. "

"Was his father an artist?" asked Mrs. D. 

"Yes, " answered the recluse. "I well remember where sister Fanny firstmet him, and how quick a wild, deep love grew out of the romanticadventure. It was a few months after we left this country--I to forgetin travel my cankering sorrows, she to companion my wanderings. How itaffects me now to think that we left you in suffering poverty withouteven a kind good-by! Our shares in the estate of our deceased parentsfurnished us with funds for travel, while yours had been squandered by adissolute man. But we should have given you of ours to alleviate yourwants and distresses. Fanny often told me so; but my worst passions wereroused by the misfortune I conceived you had helped to bring upon me, and I would not hear her pleadings in your behalf. What a hard-heartedwretch I have been!"

The hermit paused and covered his face. 

Willie looked from his uncle to his mother, and at length approachedhim. "Do not fall into one of your gloomy reveries, " said he; "tell usmore of Edgar's mother. "

"Ay, yes, " said the hermit, rousing himself; "I was speaking of herfirst meeting with her future husband. It was among the ruins of theEternal City. She had wandered forth by herself one day, and, intoxicated by the scenes that met her eye on every hand, roamed so farthat when the shades of night began to fall, she discovered herself inthe midst of gloomy, crumbling walls and tottering columns, withoutknowing whither to direct her steps. While she stood indeterminate, agentleman approached, and kindly inquired if she had lost her way. Sheanswered in the affirmative, and he offered to escort her home. Iremember how glowing bright was her face that night, as she camebounding up the steps of our habitation, and presented the 'young artistshe had found beneath the walls of Rome, ' as she termed her companion, and laughingly recounted her adventure. I believe our family arepredisposed to strong feelings, for I never witnessed a love moreengrossing than was hers for the young Lindenwood; nor was his devotionto her less remarkable. They were married, and I left them to pursue mywanderings alone. 

"When, after a lapse of several years, I returned, it was to stand overtheir death-beds, and receive their boy under my protection. His fatherwas rich, and a large fortune was left to his only child. A few moreyears I roamed, and then with the young Edgar sought my native shores. 

"You know the rest. It is a long yarn I have spun you, " said he, rising, "and I marvel you are not both asleep. "

"Are you going back to the forest to-night?" asked Mrs. Danforth, as hewrapped the long coat about his thin form, and placed the broad-brimmedhat over his gray locks. 

"Yes, Delia, " answered he. "I sleep best with the roar of the cedars inmy ears. "

"I will go with you, " said Willie, springing for his cap. 

The twain set forth together, while the lonely woman sought her couchand thought mournfully of long-past days and years. 

 CHAPTER XLVI. 

 "She is a bustling, stalwart dame, and one That well might fright a timid, modest man. Look how she swings her arms, and treads the floor With direful strides!"

It was a bright, sunny spring morning, and Wimbledon was beautiful inbudding foliage, singing blue-birds and placid little river, with thesunbeams silvering its ripply surface. 

The windows of Mr. Pimble's kitchen were raised and therein Peggy Noncemoved vigorously to and fro, with rolled-up sleeves and glowing face, stirring a great fire which roared and crackled in the jaws of a hugeoven, and then back to the pantry, where she wielded the sceptre of animmense rolling-pin triumphantly over whole trays of revoltingpie-crust, marched forth long files of submissive pies, and lodged themin the red-hot prison. 

While the stalwart house-keeper was thus occupied, Mr. Pimble, with ayellow silk handkerchief tied over his straggling locks, and his pale, palm-figured wrapper drawn closely around him, scraped the stubbed clawof a worn-out corn broom over the kitchen floor, clapping his heellessslippers after him as he moved slowly along. Peggy never heeded him atall, but rushed to and fro, as if there had been no presence in thekitchen save her own, often dragging the dirt away, on her trailingskirts, just as the indefatigable sweeper had collected it in a pile. 

All at once, pert little Susey Pimble opened the parlor door andswinging herself outward, said, "I want the dining-room castors andtea-cups, and mamma says I am to have them and you are to come and givethem to me. "

The father rested his arms on the broom handle, and turning his facetoward his hopeful daughter, who was a "scion of the old stock, " said, "I will come soon as I have swept the floor. "

"I cannot wait, " returned Susey, sharply, "I must have them thismoment. "

The father laid down his broom passively, and saying, "What an impatientlittle miss you are!" clappered off to the dining-room, and broughtforth the desired articles on a waiter. 

Miss Susey, all atilt with delight, danced forward and caught it fromher father's hands; but its weight proved too much for her little arms, and down it went to the floor with a fearful crash! Susey sprang backwith a frightened aspect at the mischief she had done, and Peggy Nonce, dropping her rolling-pin, rushed out of the pantry and beheld thefragments of broken china scattered over the floor. Her face crimsonedwith anger. 

"What a destructive little minx!" she exclaimed, glaring on theoffending Susey. "How dared you meddle with those dishes?"

"Mamma said I might have them to play house with, " answered Susey, withflashing eyes. 

"Who ever heard of such a thing as giving a child a china tea set toplay with?" said Peggy, holding up her bare, brawny arms in amazement. 

"My mother has heard of such a thing; and she knows more than fifteenwomen like you, old aunt Peggy Nonce, " returned Miss Susey, with the airof a tragedy queen. 

The unusual sounds aroused Mrs. Pimble, who appeared at the parlor doorwith a goose-quill behind her ear, and a written scroll in her hand. When her eyes fell on the spectacle in the centre of the kitchen, shestamped violently, and exclaimed, in a tempestuous tone, "What does thismean?" Mr. Pimble slunk away into a corner, while Peggy pursed up herlips with a defiant expression, and Susey grew suddenly very meek andblushing-faced. 

Mrs. Pimble's eyes followed her husband. "You crawling, contemptiblething, " she exclaimed, "have you grown so stupid and insensate that youcannot comprehend a simple question? Again I demand of you, what doesthis mean?" and she pointed her finger sternly to the broken fragmentswhich strewed the floor. 

"Susey said you told her she might have the castors and tea things, andthat I was to give them to her, " said Mr. Pimble, without lifting hiseyes from the hearth he was contemplating. 

"Very well, I did tell Susey she might have the articles mentioned toamuse herself with, and it was fitting she should have them, or I hadnot given my consent. But why do I find them dashed to the floor andrendered useless? Answer me that, you slip-shod sloven?"

With an awful air, Mrs. Pimble folded her arms and looked down upon herhusband, who cringed away before her ireful presence, and said, "Suseydropped the waiter. "

"Dropped the waiter!" repeated Mrs. Pimble, her anger freshening to agale. "And could you not prevent her from dropping it? or had you nomore sense than to load an avalanche of china on the arms of a littlechild?"

"She took the waiter from me, " said Pimble, in a dogged tone, his eyesstill studying the tiles in the hearth. 

Mrs. Pimble darted upon him one glance of the most withering contempt, and taking Susey by the hand led her from the room, without deigning toutter another word. 

Soon as she disappeared Peggy set about clearing up the broken crockery, and Mr. Pimble crawled off into the recess of a window where the sunmight shine on his shivering frame, and at length fell asleep. He hadhardly concluded his first dream of fragmentary tea-cups, ere a violentpulling at his draggling coat-tails, which hung over the sill, causedhim to wake with a start, when he beheld Peggy Nonce at his side, saying, "Dilly Danforth was come to see him. " With a hopeless yawn hecrawled out of his sunny nook, and, turning his dull, sleepy eyes towardthe disturber of his quiet, demanded, in a surly tone, "what she wantedwith him. "

"I have come to pay my quarter's rent, " said Mrs. Danforth, placing abank note in his grimy hand. He closed his skinny fingers on it with aneager clutch, and looked in the woman's face with a vague expression ofwonder. 

"I am glad to get a shilling from you at last, " said he, fondling thenote; "but this will not quite pay up the last quarter's rent. There'sabout half a dollar more my due. You can come and do the springcleaning, and then I'll call matters square between us. "

"I thought ten dollars was the sum specified, for three months' rent, "remarked Mrs. Danforth. 

"It was, " returned he, "but you know you had the pig's feet and ears atthe fall butchering, and Mrs. Pimble gave you a petticoat in the winter. These things would amount to more than fifty cents, if I put their realvalue upon them; but as you have cashed this payment, I will, as I saidbefore, call all square with a few days' light work from you. "

Mrs. Danforth drew another note from her pocket, and, placing it in hishand, asked him to satisfy himself of his claims upon her, as she couldnot favor him with her services as he desired, having work of her own todo. Mr. Pimble looked still more astonished when he felt the second notebetween his fingers. He put it in his pocket and returned her a silverpiece. She took it, and, turning to depart, said, "I shall not want yourhouse any longer, Mr. Pimble. I am going to move away to-day. "

"Where are you going?" he asked, opening his sleepy eyes very wide. 

"I have hired a room in Deacon Allen's cottage, " answered she. "It isnear the seminary, where William attends school. "

Mr. Pimble continued to stare on the woman, with distended eyeballs. 

"You have been a very peaceable tenant, " he said at length; "I wouldrent my house cheaper, if you would remain another year. "

"I have made my arrangements to move, and would prefer to do so, "returned Mrs. Danforth, bidding him good-morning. 

He looked very much disconcerted after she was gone, and muttered, he"did not see what had set Dilly Danforth up so, all at once. "

 CHAPTER XLVII. 

 "'Tis silent all!--but on my ear The well-remembered echoes thrill; I hear a voice I should not hear, A voice that now might well be still. Yet oft my doubting soul 't will shake; Even slumber owns its gentle tone, Till consciousness will vainly wake, To listen though the dream be flown. "

"O, it is ever the wildest storms that lull to the sweetest calms!"wrote Florence Howard, on a new-turned leaf of her well-treasuredjournal. "My heart is singing grateful anthems to the all-wise Father, who stretched forth his friendly arm to save me from the 'snare of thespoiler. ' As I sit here to-night, with a young May moon gleaming downthrough the far depths of liquid ether, like a sweet, angel face of pityand love, how dimly o'er my memory come the stormy scenes of sin andpassion which conspired to render terrible the winter that has passedaway! My soul, long torn and rent by grief and wild-contending emotions, grows tranquil in the calm and quiet which have succeeded the furiousstorm, and settles to peaceful rest. 

"It is enough for me to know my father's wrongs are righted and I amstill his own, and only his. The clown, from whose polluting arms kindProvidence rescued me, has never shown his hateful form among us sincethe day that witnessed the disclosure of his father's baseness. His vilemother has also disappeared, in search of her son. Great Heaven! tothink I was so near becoming the wife of that woman's child of sin; and, but for that strange, wild hermit, who lifted the black curls thatveiled the monster who sought our destruction, O, where had we all beennow? And was it not a striking instance of Jehovah's righteousretributions, that the man who was once the betrothed of my aunt, shouldbe the instrument selected by Heaven to disclose the villany andwickedness of the wretch who seduced her affections by artfulfalsehoods, and made her his wife, but to steal her fortune and blasther life? Poor, dear aunt Mary! I mourn not nor pine to find she is notmy mother, for surely the fragile Edith, so rudely shocked by thedisclosures of her father's crimes, would have drooped and died, had shenot found a mother's fond affection to comfort and sustain her in thetrial hour. It is a beautiful sight, this reünion of parent and child. How trustingly they cling to each other, and how their wan aspectsbrighten in the warmth of their mutual affection! But I think there's alove in the mother's heart yet stronger than that she feels for herchild. I watch her emotional excitement when the name of the hermit ismentioned, and I think that early devotion has survived alldisappointments and afflictions. What a romantic thing it would be forthem to meet in the evening of life and renew the promises of theiryouth! But it may not be, for the conviction steals coldly o'er me thatmy dear aunt has been too deeply tried to long survive her sorrows. Eventhe joy of discovering a daughter may not save her from the tomb whichopens to receive her weary form in its oblivious arms. Father looks onthe thin, wasted form, following Edith closely as her shadow, with afond, earnest gaze fixed on the gentle girl, and turns to hide a tear. O, would the blow might be a while averted! All is so bright and sunnyaround us now. I even try to nurse the belief that I _could_ not behappier, but my heart will rebel against the specious falsehood. Still, still it wears the fetters love so enduringly fastened. Still I rememberthat double dawn which rose on me as I stood on the cloud-veiled summitof old, hoary-headed Mount Washington. 

 'And I saw it with such feeling, joy in blood and heart and brain, I would give, to call the affluence of that moment back again, Europe, with her cities, rivers, hills of prey, sheep-sprinkled downs, Ay, an hundred sheaves of sceptres, ay, a planet's gathered crowns, '

"But I must not write thus, lest I grow ungrateful for the mercies of agracious Providence. Let me thank my God for his remembrance in the hourof sorest need, and lie down to slumber. "

She closed her book, and, dropping softly on her knees before the lowcurtained couch, leaned her young head, with its dark, clustering curls, against the white cushions, and remained several moments in silentprayer. Then rising, she closed the casements and retired to rest. 

 CHAPTER XLVIII. 

 "Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd should fly from thee, thy home is still here. 

 * * *

 I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in thy heart; I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art!"

A graceful form bent over a printed page, and by the light of a waxentaper, devoured its startling contents. Ah, how awfully startling to thereader! for it was Louise Edson poreing over the disclosures of Col. Malcome's wickedness and crime. But, as she drew toward the close, asudden ray of light struggled through the anguish and misery which hadcast her features into utter darkness, when her eye first lighted on theglaring capitals of the criminal's name. Concealing the paper whichcontained the fearful tale of his guilt, she hastened to her ownapartment. 

As the shades of the following evening drew on, a female figure, wrappedin a large shawl, with her features closely veiled, stood at the irondoor of the huge, black jail, and besought an entrance. 

"Who do you wish to see?" demanded the jailer, in a coarse, rough tone, seeking to penetrate the veil with his impertinent eyes. 

She breathed a low word in his ear. The man started. 

"Is it possible you wish to behold a wretch like him?" exclaimed he. 

The lady drew up her slight form with an air of dignity, and said, "Deliver my message, and bring me his answer!"

Awed by her manner, the jailer hastened his steps to obey her command. 

The door of a gloomy cell on the second floor of the huge buildingopened with a harsh, grating sound, and the man stepped in and securedthe door behind him. The prisoner, who was sitting beside a table, withpen and paper before him, turned round and fixed his eyes upon theintruder. "What do you want?" asked he. "When you use double bolts andbars to secure me, is it necessary to come every hour to see if I havenot escaped?"

"I have not come to satisfy myself of your safety, " returned the jailer, scowling on the speaker. "There's a woman at the outer door who wants toknow if you will grant her a brief interview. "

The prisoner started abruptly at these words. "What is her name?"demanded he, quickly. 

"I do not know, " answered the man. "She did not tell me; but she seemedmighty impatient for an answer to her request. "

The prisoner bowed his head and sat in silence several moments. Atlength he said, "Bring her in! I have a curiosity to know what womanwould penetrate these walls to seek an interview with me. "

The jailer disappeared. In a few moments footsteps were heard along thedark passage, a female form was ushered into the cheerless apartment, and the lock turned harshly upon her. Then a white hand was laid lightlyon the bright curling locks of the bowed head, and a low voice whisperedin the ear of the incarcerated man, "It is a pitiful heart that forgetsa friend in adversity. "

"Louise!" said the prisoner, shrinking away with evident pain from hertouch. "Why are you here?"

"To cheer you, --to comfort you, " said she, earnestly regarding his pale, handsome features. 

But he turned away from her gaze, shaking his head mournfully. "This isthe deepest humiliation I have yet endured, " he said, while a creepingshudder convulsed his frame. "To feel those clear eyes fastened upon me, piercing through and through my soul, and reading all the guilt andcrime that's written there. O, Louise! was it not enough to drive me, byyour unrelenting scorn and bitterness, to commit the act which hasbrought me here, without seeking to torment your victim by penetratinghis dungeon to mock at the misfortune your own cruelty occasioned?"

He raised his pale, distressed face imploringly to hers as he ceased tospeak; but she started back from her position at his side, and with anangry accent said, "I do not understand how any fell influence of mineshould cause you to break the heart of an innocent woman by your guiltyconduct with another. "

"I did not seek to refer the blame of those early sins to any influenceof yours, " he answered. "How could I, when they were committed beforeyour birth? In the very dust I acknowledge those deeds of villany andvileness. But too late is my grief and repentance. The blow has fallen, and my doom is fixed. "

He leaned his arms forward upon the table, and, sinking his head uponthem, uttered a low groan of hopeless, despairing misery. 

Tears sprang to Louise's eyes, and, approaching, she dropped on herknees at his side, and laid her hand on his arm, "Do you remember apromise I gave you long ago?" she asked softly. "If I have seemedforgetful, let me renew it now. "

He still retained his attitude of dejection, and seemed regardless ofher pleading tones. 

"You will not hear me, " she said at length, in a voice broken withgrief, "when I kneel at your feet and ask your pardon. "

"_You_ kneel to _me_!" said he, suddenly grasping her arm and strivingto raise her from the humble position. "Rise, I entreat, if you wouldnot drive me mad!"

She stood before him, with tears falling fast from her beautiful eyes. "Who is the cruel one now?" she asked. "Who throws me aside and refusesforgiveness when it is repentantly implored?"

"What signifies the pardon of a wretch like me?" said he, in a tone ofagony. "What is he? what can he be to you?"

Turning her head aside, she said in a soft, trembling voice, "He is whathe has ever been, and still may be, --my world of love and happiness!"Her cheeks flushed, as, lifting her eyes, she encountered his earnestgaze. She sought to move away, but he was by her side. "Louise! Louise!"said he, in a tone of thrilling emotion, "Dare I hope that you love mestill?"

There was no word; but she put her arm round his neck and sank weepingon his bosom. He pressed her again and again to his heart. "Ah, indeed!"said he, at length, "this is the luxury of woe. To know at last thislove is mine, and be separated forever from its dear embraces by thecold walls of a prison. Stern justice can inflict no pang like this. "

"Talk not of separation, " said she, lifting her head, and revealing aface redolent with happiness. "No hand shall take me from you save thehand of death!"

He gazed with unspeakable tenderness on her glowing features, and saidsorrowfully, "My wickedness does not deserve this angel-comforter. Whydid you withhold this blessed consolation when the world smiled brightlyon me?"

"To bestow it when the world had cast you off, " said she; "to think ofyou at your best, when it had made your name a by-word and reproach. "

He pressed his lips tenderly to the white, upturned brow, and drew herto a seat. A half-hour passed in low, earnest conversation, when thegrating of the iron key aroused them, and Louise had only time to drawher veil over her features when the jailer entered. "I am ready tofollow you, " she said, advancing toward him. 

He held the heavy door asunder, and, with one lingering glance on theform of the prisoner, she went forth and followed her guide through thedark passages, and down the steep flights of stairs. He unlocked thestreet-door, and she stepped lightly forth beneath the light of thestars. 

 CHAPTER XLIX. 

 "They loved;--and were beloved. O happiness. I have said all that can be said of bliss In saying that they loved. The young heart has Such store of wealth in its own fresh, wild pulse, And it is love that works the mind, and brings Its treasure to the light. I did love once, Loved as youth, woman, genius loves; though now My heart is chilled and seared, and taught to wear The falsest of false things--a mask of smiles; Yet every pulse throbs at the memory Of that which has been. "

Summer showered her wealth of roses over the gardens and grassy paths ofWimbledon. Day after day the sound of the busy hammer rang out on thescented air, and crowds of workmen were seen at eventide hurrying totheir separate places of abode. Great teams, loaded with fancy andornamental wood and iron work, labored through the streets, and "SummerHome" was rising from its ruins in all its former magnificence andsplendor. 

Major Howard decided he could not use the confiscated wealth of thepretended Col. Malcome for a better purpose than to rebuild the mansionhis wickedness had destroyed. 

Florence was delighted at the prospect of regaining the beautiful homeshe had lost; for, elegant and luxurious as was her present abode, shewas disquieted by too frequent remembrance of the terrible scenes shehad witnessed beneath its roof. Still, the Howards were for the mostpart very happy. Edith's bright head was again covered with its goldenwealth of curls, and her merry laughter echoed joyously through thehalls and parlors of the proud mansion. It seemed her greatest delightto bring a smile to the wan cheek of her mother, who was failing slowly, even beneath the genial influence of a summer sun. 

As Florence stood on the vine-curtained terrace one balmy Augustmorning, inhaling the sweet air, and listening to the thrillingwarblings of Edith's pet canaries, as they swung in their wire-wroughtcages from the roof above, she beheld Willie Danforth coming up thegarden path, holding a letter toward her in his cunning, tempting way. She extended her hand to receive it. 

"No, " said he, suddenly drawing it back. "I don't think I'll let youhave this tiny little missive, unless you will first promise to tell mewho is the writer. "

"Why, how can I tell you till I know myself?" said she, still reachingfor the letter, which he continued to withhold, smiling at her eager, impatient aspect. 

His frolicsome habit of teasing gently any one he loved always remindedher of Edgar Lindenwood, and he was very like his cousin in personalappearance. So thought Florence; and he and his mother, who lived in aroom of Dea. Allen's cottage, just across the garden, became markedfavorites of hers. 

At length Willie gave her the letter. She broke the seal quickly, andhurried through the contents. 

"I'll tell you who 'tis from, gladly, " said she, with a bright smile;"for I fancy it will afford you pleasure to know. Do you remember alittle girl, named Ellen Williams, who used to trip over the piazza westand on now?"

The young man's face brightened and blushed as he replied eagerly, "That do I, and her brother Neddie. "

"Well, they are both coming here to make me a nice, long visit, " saidshe, in a delighted tone. "Is not this happy news?"

"It is, indeed, " answered Willie; "but where did you make theiracquaintance, Florence?"

"During the period of my travels they were my constant companions. Irecollect how eagerly Ellen inquired for you, when we first met atNiagara; but I was then almost ignorant of your existence, and couldgive her no satisfactory information. I told her there was a youth I hadheard called Willie Greyson, who lived with a hermit; and she saidGreyson was your mother's maiden name; but so dutiful and affectionate ason as you would never leave a lonely, widowed parent to dwell with asolitary hermit. So she would believe you were dead. "

"And did that belief appear to cause her any regret?" asked William, whohad been listening with an earnest expression to Florence's words. 

"Yes, indeed, " returned she; "the pretty, gentle girl has a strongregard for you, Willie. You must renew acquaintance when she and herbrother come to pay me their long-meditated visit. "

"I don't know, " said the young man, rather sadly. 

"I believe you will be a second Hermit of the Cedars, or the Hemlocks, or the Pines, " said she, laughing; "for you are already half asmelancholy as your uncle, at times. "

"Do you consider him so very gloomy, then?" asked Willie. 

"He has the most mournful expression I ever saw, " answered Florence;"but he is an entertaining companion for all that. I always sit apart, and listen in silence, when he relates some tale or adventure of hisextensive travels. He was with us yesterday evening, and I never saw himso animated and lively before. Even Aunt Mary's pale, grief-worncountenance assumed a cheerful expression while listening to hissprightly, intelligent conversation. "

"Did you not know the cause of his unusual exhilaration?" inquiredWilliam. 

"No, " said Florence, looking innocently in the face of the questioner. 

"Edgar is at home. "

"Why did he not inform us of his nephew's return?" asked Florence, growing suddenly very pale, and finding it convenient to lean against apillar near by. 

"Perhaps he did not think the intelligence would interest your family, "returned Willie; "he is very modest in his confidences. "

The seminary bell now commenced to ring, and the youth hastened awaywith a pleasant good-morning. 

Florence stood there a long time, behind the thickly-interwovenwoodbines and honeysuckles, supporting herself against the marblecolumn, forgetful of all save the blissful thought that the man sheloved was once more near her. He was, indeed, nearer than she supposed, for there came a light footstep on the vine-shrouded terrace, and shefelt an arm stealing softly around her, while a voice, whose briefesttone she could never mistake, whispered in her ear:

"Again we have met, and O, Florence! say, in mercy say, it shall be topart no more!"

There is nothing so natural, to a woman that loves, as the presence ofthe beloved object; and Florence turned toward Edgar with no amazementor surprise; but love unspeakable lighted her features as she placed herhand in his, tenderly, trustfully, and with a manner that convinced himshe would never withdraw it again. 

Then she led him into the drawing-room, where the family soon assembled, and were presented to the young artist. 

Aunt Mary was delighted with his appearance, and soon engaged him in aconversation which grew very brilliant and animated on his part, and wasjoined in by Florence and Edith, till Major Howard entered, whose joy atagain beholding his former travelling companion knew no bounds, and themirth and merriment increased four-fold. Evening had fallen ere theywere aware, when Edgar rose and said he must return to the hermit'shabitation. 

All regretted to lose his presence, and Major Howard strongly invitedhim to regard his mansion as a home while he should remain in thevicinity. 

Edgar thanked him for his generous offer, and gracefully bowed agood-evening. 

Florence accompanied him to the hall door, and he drew her forth on theterrace, which was now glinted over by the silvery moonbeams. 

"Come soon again, " said she. 

"Yes, dearest, " he answered. A long, sweet kiss and gentle adieu, inwhich there was love enough to feast even her long-famishing soul, andhe was gone. 

She skipped lightly into the parlor, kissed her father, Aunt Mary, Edith, Sylva, and Fido, the little Spanish poodle that was nestled inher arms, and then bounded up the stairs to her own apartment, singingas she went. 

"There goes the happiest heart in Wimbledon, to-night, " said her father, as he caught the sound of her musical voice ringing through the spacioushall above. 

"Save one, " said Aunt Mary, with a sad smile. 

"He is beyond its precincts, " returned Major Howard. "Edith, did youever love?" said he, quickly turning his discourse toward the gentlegirl, who stood, regarding attentively the faces of the speakers, as ifshe hardly comprehended their words. 

"No, " answered she, innocently. 

"Heaven grant you never may, " said her mother, fervently; "come, mychild, let us seek the quiet of our own apartment. "

Edith threw her arm affectionately round the wasted form. 

"Good-night, uncle, " said she, and they all disappeared. 

 CHAPTER L. 

 "We leave them at the portal Of earthly happiness; We pray the power immortal May hover o'er to bless; And strew their future pathway With flowers of peace and love, Till death shall call their spirits To Eden realms above. "

When "Summer Home" rose complete in its beautiful architectural design, with its wealth of foliage and flowers all in wildest, richestprofusion, a young bride walked under the trailing vines which overhungthe marble-supported terrace, and a manly form at her side opened thehall door and ushered her into the magnificent drawing-rooms. It wasFlorence Lindenwood. 

Then a carriage came rolling up the long avenue of cedars, conveyingMajor Howard, his sister, Edith, and Sylva, with the lap-dog and petcanaries in her care, to the newly-completed mansion. What a regal homethey entered, and how proud and happy were their beaming faces!

The day was passed with a social group of friends, among whom NedWilliams, his sister Ellen, and young Willie Danforth, were the mostlively and mirthful. At night-fall the hermit appeared, and was warmlyreceived. He sat down by aunt Mary, and conversed calmly, as was hiswont. 

Florence glanced about the apartment in search of her husband, wonderingthat he did not come forward to welcome his uncle, but he haddisappeared. She flew up stairs to their apartment, and beheld himsitting before a table, apparently absorbed in the contents of somevolume. Stepping softly forward, she leaned over his shoulder. He wasreading her journal. 

"Thief!" she exclaimed, covering the page with her little white hands, "where did you find this?"

"It attracted my notice this morning when I was packing your books forremoval, " returned he. "I did not know I was so well loved before, Florence, " he added, with a provoking smile. 

"Look out that I do not cease to love you altogether, " said she, shakingher tiny finger playfully in his face, "if you steal into my privateaffairs in this way. But come below now, " she continued, taking hishand; "uncle Ralph has arrived and waits to see you. "

They descended to the parlor, and after the pleasant evening was passedand the guests severally departed, the hermit presented to his nephewthe fortune left him by his long-deceased father. It was much largerthan Edgar had ever supposed. He amply remunerated the care andprotection of his kind guardian, and besought him to forsake theforest-hut and dwell beneath his grateful roof. But the recluse waivedthe entreaties of the young, happy couple. 

He "could not desert his home in the cedars. It was the spot where themost placid years of his life had been passed. He would frequently visitthe abode of Edgar, and also that of his lately-recovered sister, butstill chose to retain the wild-wood habitation as a retreat whenmelancholy moods rendered him unfit for all society, and he could onlyfind consolation in the lone solitude of nature. "

So, with a fervent blessing on their bright young heads, he departed onhis solitary way to the distant forest. 

And the starry night stole on, while all was quiet and peaceful aboveand around the mansion of "Summer Home. "

 THE LAST CHAPTER. 

 "Let's part in friendship, And say good-night. "

Shadowy-vested romance, that whilom roamed the grassy paths andflower-strewn ways of Wimbledon, is wrapping the heavy folds of herdew-moistened mantle around her, and stealing silently away. Yet for amoment let her turn a parting glance toward the motley groups which havecompanioned her midnight rambles, and are seen passing in the distancewith their eyes fixed steadily on her receding form. 

Foremost in the crowding phalanx we mark the firm, upright figure of Mr. Salsify Mumbles, and his commanding aspect and majestic tread assure usthat he has "risen in his profession" to the airy summit of his mostambitious aspirations. We fancy another story has crowned his mansion, and a second piazza stretched its snowy palings around its paintedwalls. Beside him is his amiable wife, with the sweet baby Goslina, in arobe of dimity, pressed close to her affectionate shoulder, quacklingsoftly as they pass along. 

Close behind is Mary Madeline and her tender spouse, a hand of eachgiven to their hopeful son, who, ever and anon, turns his mites of eyesup to his parents' faces and utters a piercing squeal. 

Then Miss Martha Pinkerton comes primly on, with Mrs. Stanhope at herside, who turns often with a friendly glance toward a happy-seemingcouple that walk apart, as if their chief enjoyment was in each other'ssociety. 

"You have rescued and redeemed me, " whispered a manly voice in the earof the graceful figure which leaned so confidingly on his arm. 

"Let us forget the past and be happy, " said his companion, lifting herclear eyes to his eloquent face. 

Their forms faded from our vision, and the pleasant reverie into whichwe were sinking to weave fair garlands, to crown their future years, wasrudely broken by a ranting bustle and confusion. Philanthropy wassweeping past. 

Mrs. Pimble, in nankin bloomers, with pert Susey clinging to the hem ofher brief skirt, stalked on with angry stride, vociferating at the topof her voice. 

Mrs. Lawson towered indignantly at her side, joining in wrathfuldenunciations of the tyrant man; and fair, persecuted Dr. Simcoe'sassenting voice was faintly heard amid the fiendish shrieks of thosepestiferous younglings, Simcoe's children. 

We knew by their ireful aspects some dreadful peril had menaced thecause of Woman's Rights, and while we gazed, their clamor increased tofurious yells of rage and defiance, and a dark, descending cloud hungthreateningly over their wrathful heads as they passed along. 

On their vanishing shadows Mr. Pimble clappered his heelless slippers, with the long skirts of his palm-figured wrapper streaming on the airbehind him; like the grim ghost of manhood pursuing its flyingaggressors. 

Then Florence, like a beam of light, danced past on the arm of Edgar, and a merry, laughing group followed quickly in their rear, among whichwe recognized the tall, portly form of Major Howard, smiling benignly onthe happy faces around him. 

But we looked in vain for the thin, bowed figure of his grief-strickensister. There were two willow-shaded graves in the grass-grownchurch-yard, and o'er them bent the spectre-like form of the Hermit ofthe Cedars, his gray locks moistened by the falling night-dews, and hispale face turned upward to the midnight stars with an expression ofmournful resignation. 

As the clock in the ivy-hung steeple tower rang forth its echoing chimeson the odorous air, we cast one glance toward the swiftly-vanishinggroups, and silently turned away. 

Cold and bitter on our long-wrapped senses strike the harsh, blunt-edgedrealities of every-day existence. The multiplied images which butyesterday peopled our brain and thronged on our notice, have "departedthence, to return no more. "

The last sound of their multitudinous voices has died in the distance, and Wimbledon is to us as if it had never been. 

 SCRAGGIEWOOD;

 A

 TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE. 

 CHAPTER I. 

 "Sweetly wild Were the scenes that charmed me when a child; Rocks, gray rocks, with their caverns dark, Leaping rills, like the diamond spark; Torrent voices thundering by, When the pride of the vernal floods swelled high, And a quiet roof, like the hanging-nest, 'Mid cliffs, by the feathery foliage drest. "

October's harvest-moon hung in the blue ether. Brightly fell her goldenbeams on the tall, old forest trees, that pointed spar-like toward thestarry heaven, and down, through their interlacing branches, upon gray, mossy rocks and uprooted trunks, over which wild vines wreathed inuntrained exuberance; and dim, star-eyed flowers reared their slenderheads among the rank undergrowth of bush and shrub. 

And here, in this primeval wildness, her silver beams revealed a low, thatched cottage standing in a narrow opening. Its walls were built ofrough stones, piled one upon another in a rude, unartistical manner; andthe heavy turf roof, which projected far over the sides, was sunken andovergrown with moss and lichens. 

From this rough dwelling proceeded tones of mirth and hilarity. Howstrangely they sounded in the lone solitude of nature! Through an openwindow might be seen a group, seated round a small table, consisting oftwo young men, and an old woman in a high starched cap, with a huge pairof iron-bowed spectacles mounted on her Roman nose. A child was sleepingon a pallet in a corner of the room, and one of the young men passed thecandle a moment over the low cot, and, gazing intently on the sleeper, asked in a lively, careless tone, "Sacri, Aunt Patty! is that your baby, or the fair spirit that unrollsthe destinies of mortals to your inspired vision?"

"She is neither one nor t'other, " answered the old woman. "Now please tohold that candle up here close to my eyes. "

"But I want to know who that is asleep there; for I've a notion she ismore concerned in my destiny than anything you'll find in that oldteacup. "

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the woman musingly, as she continued to peer, with a mystic expression of countenance, into a small and apparentlyempty teacup, which she turned slowly round and round in her skinnyhand, muttering at intervals in an ominous undertone. 

"Well, Aunt Patty, out with it!" said the youth at length, tired of herlong silence. "Isn't it clear yet? Here's another bit of silver; tossthat in, and stir up again;" and he threw a shining half-eagle down onthe table. The woman's face brightened as she clutched it eagerly. 

"Come, now let's hear, " continued the young man, "what's to be Mr. Lawrence Hardin's destiny. "

"May be, if you saw all I see in this cup, you would not be so eager toknow its contents, " said the crone in a boding voice. 

"What! Whew, old woman! croaking of evil when I've twice crossed yourpalm with silver! This is too bad. "

"But don't you know the decrees of fate are unalterable?" said thewoman, solemnly. 

"O, law, yes! but I didn't know an old cracked saucer was soformidable. "

"It is no saucer, sir; it is a cup, and your destiny is in it. "

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the other young man; "pretty well wound up, Hardin, if your destiny is contained in a teacup. "

"Hush!" exclaimed the crone in an angry tone. "More than his or yours, you noisy chatterer! The whole world's, I may say, is in the cup. "

"In the _pot_, you mean, " said the youth, knocking with his bamboostick on the side of a small, black teapot, that stood at the oldwoman's right hand. 

"Well, yes; in the pot, I should say, perhaps, " added she in a softenedtone. 

"The world's destiny is in a teapot, and Aunt Patty Belcher pours itforth at her pleasure; that's it;" and here they all joined in a heartylaugh. 

"That will do, " said Hardin at length; "now read off, good Dame Belcher. Sumpter is digesting his fortune. Give me a more palatable one thanhis. "

The old woman rubbed her long, peaked nose violently, and then raisingher eyes slowly to the young man's face, said, "Thou art ambitious, Lawrence Hardin!"

"Wrong there, most reverend sorceress!" exclaimed the one calledSumpter. 

"Now, hark ye!" exclaimed the old crone; "I won't be interrupted. Iguess I know my own cups. "

"Be quiet, be quiet, Jack!" said Hardin. "Why will you be sopresumptuous as to gainsay a prophet's assertions! Go on, Aunt Patty; hewill not disturb you again. "

"Well, I tell you again, " said the woman, casting a disdainful glance onSumpter, who had withdrawn to a chair at the foot of the cot-bed, andwas regarding attentively the tiny form lying there wrapped in tranquilsleep, "I tell you _again_, you are ambitious. You want to be thoughtgreat. You want to be first. You thirst for power for the sake of bowingothers to your will. You have rich parents _now_, and are surrounded byall that heart could wish; but, mind ye, there's a dark cloud in therear. It threatens tempest and desolation. Soon your parents will bedead, and you hurrying from your rich, splendid home to seek yourfortune in a distant country. You will seem to prosper for a while, andthen it blackens again. You can see yourself, " she added, holding thecup before the young man's face, "that black clump in the bottom. "

"I see only a few tea-grounds your turnings and shakings have settledtogether, " remarked he, carelessly. 

"Destiny placed them as they are, young men, " said the hag, solemnly. 

"May be so, " he added; "but tell me, how long shall I live? Shall I besuccessful in love, and will my lady be handsome?"

"Thou wilt live longer than thou wilt wish; ay, drag on many years whenthou wouldst fain be sleeping in the earth's cold bed! Thou wiltlove, --thou wilt marry, and thy lady will be beautiful as the day-star. "

"Enough, enough!" exclaimed the youth, starting to his feet. "Do youhear, Jack? Is not mine a brave fortune? I shall love, marry, and mywife will be a goddess of beauty. "

"Yes, " said the crone; "but mark, she will not love you. "

"Whew! How is that? Not love me? And wherefore not, old woman?"

"Because she will love another, " repeated the hag in a low, but firm, decided tone. 

"But you are spoiling your fair pictures, Aunt Patty, " said Hardin. 

"Destiny is destiny, " said she with a solemn look. 

"Ay, yes; I forgot!" he exclaimed, laughing gayly. "Come, Sumpter, let'sbe off. I am afraid our good seeress will discover you and I fighting aduel in that ominous cup, or brewing a tempest in her teapot. "

"Ha, ha, ha! it is not impossible, " ejaculated Sumpter. "Now I believeshe did say I would go out of the world in a terrible uproar, shootingsomebody or getting shot myself. Which was it, dame?"

"Time will tell you soon enough, young man, " returned the woman, in anangry, scornful tone. 

"O, don't be cross, good Aunt Patty!" he said, noticing her dark looks;"don't mind my balderdash. Here's another piece of silver for you. Now, good-night, and long live Scraggiewood and the seeress, Madam Belcher!"

"Good-night, young men, and God bless ye, I say!" exclaimed the crone, her eye brightening at sight of the silver. 

"Just tell me the name of the little sleeper, " said Sumpter, lingering amoment, while Hardin turned the carriage which had brought them to theforest-cottage. 

"What do you want to know her name for?" asked Aunt Patty. 

"O, because she resembles a sister I lost, " returned Sumpter after abrief hesitation. 

"Well, it is my niece, Annie Evalyn. "

"Ah! she lives with you?"

"Yes; ever since she was born a'most. Her father and mother died whenshe was a baby. "

"Hillo, Sumpter!" said Hardin, from without, "trying to coax a prettiersequel to your fortune? Come on!"

Sumpter hurried forth, and the carriage rattled away over the rough roadof Scraggiewood. 

 CHAPTER II. 

 "A holy smile was on her lip, Whenever sleep was there; She slept as sleep the blossoms hushed Amid the silent air. "

The sun was peeping through the crevices of the rock-built cottage whenold Dame Belcher, the fortune-teller, awoke on the following morning. 

"Well, about time for me to be stirring these old bones, " she murmured. "Good fees last night;" and here she drew a leather bag from beneath herpillow, and chuckled over its contents; "these little siller pieces willbuy plenty of ribbons and gewgaws for hinny, so she can flaunt with thebest of them at Parson Grey's school. She was asleep here last nightwhen the young city chaps came, and don't know a word about their visit;I carried her off in my arms to her own little cot, after they weregone, and I'll creep into her room a moment now to see if she stillsleeps. "

Thus saying, the old woman slipped on her clothes, and, crossing a rudeentry, lightly lifted a latch and entered a small, poor, though verytidy apartment. A broken table, propped against the rough, unplasteredwall, contained a bouquet of wild flowers tastefully arranged, andplaced in a bowl of clear water, some writing materials, and a few bookspiled neatly together. A fragrant woodbine formed a beautifullattice-work over the rough-cut hole in the wall which answered for awindow. Two chairs covered with faded chintz, and a small cot-beddressed in white, completed the furnishing. On this latter, breathingsoftly in her quiet sleep, lay a lovely child, on whose fair, open broweleven summers might have shed their roses. The old woman approached, and with her wrinkled palms smoothed away the heavy masses of chestnuthair that curled around her childish face. 

"Bless it, how it sleeps this morning!" she said, in a low whisper; "butit must not have its little hands up here;" and she parted the tinyfingers that were locked above the graceful head, and laid them softlyon the sleeper's breast. "I may as well go, while she sleeps so quietly, and gather a dish of the crimson berries she loves so well, for herbreakfast; they will be nice with a dish of old Crummie's sweet milk;"and, pinning a green blanket over her head, the old woman went forth onher errand. 

Meantime the child awoke, and, seeing the sunbeams stealing through thenet-work of vines, and streaming so warm and bright over the rough, stone floor, started quickly from her couch, and, robing herself in apink muslin frock, issued from her room, carolling a happy morning song. She sat down on a bench before the door of the cottage, and in a fewmoments her aunt appeared, bearing in one hand a white bowl filled withpurple berries, and in the other a bucket of milk, all warm and frothingto the brim. 

"O, then you are up, hinny!" she said, on seeing the child; "just lookat what aunty has got for your breakfast. Now, you come in and pick overthe berries with your little, nice, quick fingers, and I'll spread thetable, strain the milk, and bake a bit of oaten cake, and we'll have ameal fit for a king. "

The child obeyed readily, and soon the humble tenants of the rockycottage were seated at their simple repast. 

"I've some good news to tell you, Annie, " said the woman, as she cutopen a light, oaten cake, and spread a slice of rich, yellow butter overits smoking surface. 

"What is it, aunty?" asked the child. 

"There was two gentlemen here last night, after you fell asleep on mybed here, and they gave me lots o' siller for reading their fortunes. I've got it all here in the leather bag for you, hinny; 'twill buyplenty of gay ribbons to tie your pretty hair. "

"O, I would not use it for that, aunty!" said Annie, quickly. 

"What then, child?"

"For something useful. "

"And what so useful as to make my Annie look gayest of all the villagelasses?"

"Why, that's no use at all, aunty; I shan't have one more pretty thoughtin my head for having a gay ribbon on my hair. Use it, aunty, please, tobuy me some new books, so I can enter the highest class in school whenGeorge Wild does. Mr. Grey says I can read and cipher as well as he, though I am not so old by two years. "

"Well, well, hinny, it shall be as you wish; just like your father, --allfor books and learning, --though your mother leaned that way too. Yes, ofall our family she was always called the lady; and lady she was, indeed, as fine as the richest of them; but poverty, Annie, --O, 'tis a sad thingto be poor!"

"We are not poor, aunty, " said the child, pouring the sweet milk overher berries; "only see what nice things we have! this rich milk oldCrummie gives us, and this golden butter, and these light, sweet cakes!O, aunty! if you would only--only"--and she paused. 

"Only what, child?" asked the fond old woman. 

"But you won't be angry if I say it?" said the child, a conscious blushsuffusing her lovely features. 

"Angry with my darling! no. "

"Only not tell any more fortunes, aunty; then we should be so happy. "

"Not tell any more fortunes! What ails the child? Why, that's the wayhalf our living comes; and an easy way to earn it, too; much easier thanto sit and spin on the little linen wheel from morning till night. "

"Easier, but not so honorable, is it, aunty?"

"Honorable! Yes, child; what put it into your pretty, curly head that itwas not honorable to read future events and take fees for it?"

"Why, sometimes the girls and boys at school laugh and scorn at me, andcall me the old witch's brat, or the young Scraggiewood seeress, or somesuch name, " said the child, in a tone of sorrowful regret; "and I'veoften wished you would not tell fortunes any more. Learn me how to usethe small wheel, aunty, and all the hours when I'm out of school, I'llspin fast as I can. I know we could get a very good living without yourtelling fortunes; don't you think so, aunty?"

"Why, child, I never thought a word about it, " said the old woman, gazing on the beautiful face upturned to hers, and grown so earnest inits pleading. 

"But you will think to-day, while I'm at school, won't you, aunty? I seeGeorge coming for me, now;" and, moving her chair from the table, shesprang for her satchel and sun-bonnet as her little play-fellow cameover the stile, calling her name. 

"You must have on your shoes this morning, hinny, " said her aunt; "therewas a heavy dew last night, and the path is wet. "

"Yes, " said George, "have them on, Annie, for I want you to go with meby the brook to get some pretty eglantines I saw last night, nearlybloomed; they are all out this morning, I know. "

Annie was soon equipped, and, with a hearty blessing from Aunt Patty, they took their way hand in hand toward the village school. 

 CHAPTER III. 

 "On sped the seasons, and the forest child Was rounded to the symmetry of youth; While o'er her features stole, serenely wild, The trembling sanctity of woman's truth, Her modesty and simpleness and grace; Yet those who deeper scan the human face, Amid the trial hour of fear or ruth, Might clearly read upon its Heaven-writ scroll, That high and firm resolve that nerved the Roman soul. "

Through three bright summers had George Wild led Annie Evalyn over therough forest path to the village school. They were the only childrenresiding in Scraggiewood, and, therefore almost constantly together. Howthey roamed through the dim old woods in search of moss and wildflowers, and, in the autumn time, to gather the brown nuts of thechestnut and beech trees; how many favorite nooks and dells they had, inwhich to rest from their ramblings, and talk and tell each other oftheir thoughts and dreamings of the life to come! But George would oftensay he could not understand all Annie's wild words; he thought herwhimsical and visionary, and it pained him to find her ambitious andaspiring as her years increased; he would fain have her always a child, rapt in the enjoyment of the present hour, content and satisfied withhis companionship and aunt Patty's purple berries and oaten cakes, believing the heaven that closed round Scraggiewood bounded theuniverse; for something whispered to his heart, if she went forth intothe wide world, she would not return to him; and he loved her as well ashis indolent nature was capable of loving, and indeed would do a greatdeal for her sake. She possessed more power to rouse him to action thanany other person, and she loved him, too, very well, --but very coolly, very calmly, with a love that sought the good of its object at theexpense of self entirely, for she could bear to think of parting withhim forever, and putting the world's width between them, so he wasbenefited and his usefulness increased by the proceeding. And he hadalways been her companion and protector. Next to her aunty she ought tolove him; but his mind was not of a cast with hers; he could notappreciate her dreamy thoughts and aspirations. He was content to foldhis arms, and be floated through life by the tide of circumstances, thething he was; but she could not be so; she must trim her sails and stemthe current; within her breast was a spirit that would not be lulled toslumber, but impelled her incessantly to action; there was a quenchlessthirst for knowledge, unappeased, and it must be slaked. 

Mr. Grey, the kind village pastor, who had become deeply interested inhis young pupil during her attendance at the village school, offered totake her under his charge, and afford her the privilege of pursuing acourse of study with his own daughter, Netta, with whom Annie had formeda close friendship at school. Aunt Patty said she should be lost withouther "hinny, " and George Wild remonstrated half angrily with her, forgoing off to leave him alone; but all to no effect--Annie must go. 

"But why won't you go with me, George?" she asked, turning her liquidblue eyes upon his sullen face. "Don't you want to gain knowledge, andfame, and honor, in the great world, and perhaps some day beholdmultitudes bowing in reverence at your feet?"

"No, I want nothing of all this. I've knowledge enough now, and so haveyou, if you would only think so. And, as for fame and honor, I believeI'm happier without them, for I've often heard it remarked, 'increase ofknowledge is increase of misery. '"

"Well, it is not the misery of ignorance, " said Annie, proudly. "I amastonished to hear such sentiments from you, George Wild. I had thoughtyou possessed a nobler, braver heart than to sit down here beneath theoaks of Scraggiewood, and waste the best years of your life in sloth andinaction. "

"Why, I've not been sitting alone, have I, Annie?" he asked with aninsinuating smile. 

"But you will sit here alone henceforth, if you choose to continue thisindolent life; childhood does not last forever; my child-life is over, and I am going to work now, hard and earnest. "

"For what?"

"_For something noble_; to gain some lofty end. "

"Well, I hope you'll succeed in your high-wrought schemes; but for mypart, I see no use in fretting and toiling through this life, to securesome transitory fame and honor. Better pass its hours away as easily andquietly as we can. "

"We should not live shrunk away in ourselves, but strive to do somethingfor the benefit and happiness of our species. "

"O, well, Annie! if to render others happy is your wish and aim, youhave but to remain here in your humble cottage home, and I'll promiseyou you'll do that. "

"Why, George, " said she, noticing his rueful countenance, "what makesyou look so woe-begone? As if I were about to fly to the ends of theearth, when I'm only going two little miles to Parson Grey's Rectory, and promise to walk to Scraggiewood every Saturday evening with you. "

"But I feel as if I was going to lose you, Annie, for all that; thetimes that are past will never return. "

"No; but there may be brighter ones ahead, " she answered, hopefully. 

George shook his head. None of her lofty aspirations found response inhis bosom; the present moment occupied his thoughts. So the common wantsof life were supplied, and he free from pain and anxiety, he wascontent, nor wished or thought of aught beyond. The great world of thefuture he never longed to scan, nor penetrate its misty-veiled depths, and leave a name for lofty deeds and noble actions, that should vibrateon the ear of time when he was no more. 

And thus drifted asunder on the great ocean of life the barks that hadfloated on calmly side by side through a few years of quiet pleasure. They might never spread their sails together again; wider and widerwould the distance grow between them; higher and higher would swell thewaves as they sped on their separate courses; the one light and buoyantwith her freight of noble hopes and dauntless steersman at the helm, theother without sail or ballast, drifted about at the mercy of winds andwaves. 

 CHAPTER IV. 

 "A gentle heritage is mine, A life of quiet pleasure; My heaviest cares are but to twine Fresh votive garlands for the shrine Where 'bides my bosom's treasure. I am not merry, nor yet sad, My thoughts are more serene than glad. "

It was a lovely spot, that peaceful vicarage. Tall elms shaded thesloping roof, and roses and jessamines poured their rich perfume on themorning and evening air. Here two years of calm, tranquil enjoymentglided over Annie Evalyn, as she, with unremitting assiduity, pursuedthe path of science under the guidance of the good parson. Each dayfresh joys were opening before her, in the forms of newly-discoveredtruths. Her faculties developed so rapidly as to astonish her tutor, wise as he was in experience, and well-taught in ancient and modernlore. 

"Annie, " said he, one evening, as they sat together in the familyparlor, "what do you intend to do with all this store of knowledge youare treasuring up with such eager application?"

She looked up quickly in his face, and a flush for a moment passed overher usually pale features. 

"I know what you would say, " he added; "that you think no one can have_too much_ knowledge--is it not?"

"Do you think one can?" she asked. 

"Perhaps not too much well-regulated knowledge; knowledge adapted to anefficient end and purpose. "

Again Annie turned her dark blue, expressive eye full upon his face. 

"I mean to put my little store of learning to good use, " she said, thoughtfully. 

"Well, so I supposed, Annie. What do you intend to do?"

"Something great and good, " she answered, her eye kindling with thelofty thought within. 

"And could you accomplish but one, which should it be?"

"Will not a great thing be a good one also?" she inquired. 

He shook his head. 

"That does not necessarily follow, " he said; "that which is great maynot be good, but remember, Annie, what is _good_ will surely be_great_. "

"I shall consider your words, dear sir, " said Annie. "I am much indebtedto you for the privileges your kindness has afforded me, and hope someday to be able to make a grateful recompense. "

"What I do is done freely, my child, and from a sense of duty. Do notspeak of recompense. Has not the companionship you have afforded mylittle Netta, to say nothing of myself and sister Rachel, amply repaidthe small trouble your instruction has caused?"

"But you forget in all this I am as much or more the recipient as thegiver. If Netta has found me a tolerable companion, I have found her acharming one; and all yours and aunt Rachel's teachings--ah! I fear I'mmuch the debtor after all, " she said, shaking her head, doubtfully, andsmiling in her listener's face with artless simplicity and gratitude. 

"No, no, not a debtor, Annie, " he said, stroking her bright curls; "Icannot admit that. Let the benefits be mutual, if you will, nothingmore. I see Netta in the garden gathering flowers. She is a good littlegirl, and loves you dearly, though she has none of the brilliancies thatcharacterize your mind. I do not intend to flatter; go now and join yourfriend. I expect a party of western people to visit me to-morrow, andhave some preparations to make for their reception. "

Annie bowed, and glided down the gravelled path of the garden. In ashady bower she found Netta, arranging a bouquet of laurel leaves andsnow-white jessamines. 

"O!" she exclaimed, looking up as Annie approached; "there you are, sis. Now I'll twine you a wreath of these fragrant flowers. "

"And I'll twine one for you, Netta, " said Annie. "Of what shall it be?"

"Simple primroses or violets; these will best adorn my lowly brow; butAnnie, bright Annie Evalyn, shall wear naught but the proud laurel andqueenly jessamine;" and, giving a twirl to her pretty wreath, she tossedit over her friend's high, marble-like brow, bestowing a playful kiss oneither cheek as she did so. 

"Does it sit lightly, Annie?" she asked. 

"Yes, Netta, and now bend in turn to receive my wreath of innocence, notmore pure and lovely than the brow on which it rests. "

Netta knelt, and the garland was thrown over her flaxen curls. Thusadorned, the lovely maidens strolled up the avenue, arm in arm, and madetheir way to the study-room, as it was called; a large, airy chamberfronting the east, situated in a retired portion of the house, to beremoved from noise and intrusion. 

"Now you shan't study or write to-night, for who knows when we may haveanother quiet evening together? These western friends of father's arecoming to-morrow, and our time and attention will be occupied with them. I want to hear you talk to-night, Annie. Tell me some of your eloquentthoughts, your glowing fancies. I'm your poor, little, foolish Netta, you know. "

"You are my dear, dear friend, " said Annie, throwing her armsimpulsively round the slender, graceful neck, and kissing the soft youngcheek. "I'm feeling sad and gloomy this evening, and fear I cannotentertain you with conversation or lively chit-chat. "

"Tell me what makes you sad. "

"I don't know. Are you never sad without knowing the cause of yourgloomy feelings?"

"No, I think not. "

"Well, I am. Often a shadow seems thrown across my spirit's heaven, butI cannot tell whence it comes; the substance which casts the shade isinvisible. Who are these friends of your father's that are to visit us?"

"O, they are a wealthy family with whom father became acquainted in thecircuit of his travels last season. "

"Their name?"

"Prague, Dr. Prague, wife and daughter; also two young children, forwhom they are seeking a governess here in the east, as good teachers areobtained with difficulty in their section of the country. "

"Ah!" said Annie, in a tone of voice so peculiar that Netta turnedinvoluntarily toward her. 

"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, and threw her arms round her friend'sneck. 

"What has so suddenly alarmed you?" asked Annie, endeavoring to sootheher. 

"You won't go off with these strangers and leave us, will you, dearAnnie?"

"Why, who is a visionary now, Netta?" she asked, laughing merrily; "whatput the thought of my going away into this pretty head, lying here allfeverish with excited visions? Pshaw, Netta, you are a whimsie!"

"Then you won't go?" she said, her face brightening. "No thought ofbecoming the governess this western family are seeking, and going awaywith them, has entered your brain?"

"Why should there, Netta?"

"But would you say nay should you receive the offer?"

"I can tell better when the moment arrives. But there, Netta, don'tcloud that fair brow again. I feel well assured no such moment willcome. "

"I'm not so sure, Annie. "

"Well, well, let us kiss, and retire to be ready to receive the visitorson the morrow. "

And with a sisterly embrace they sought their private apartments. 

 CHAPTER V. 

 "O, show me a place like the wild-wood home, Where the air is fragrant and free, And the first pure breathings of morning come In a gush of melody. When day steals away, with a young bride's blush, To the soft green couch of night, And the moon throws o'er, with a holy hush, Her curtain of gossamer light. "

Alone Annie Evalyn was walking in the summer twilight over the roughroad toward Scraggiewood. 

Near two months had elapsed since she last visited her Aunt Patty at therock-built cottage, and she pictured in her mind, as she walked on, thesurprise and good-natured chiding which would mark her old aunt'sreception. She gazed upward at the tall forest trees swaying to and froin the light evening breeze, and far into its dim, mazy depths, wheregray rocks lay clad in soft, green moss, and gnarled, uprooted trunksovergrown with clinging vines, and pale, delicate flowers springingbeautiful from their decay. She listened to the murmuring of the brookin its rocky bed, and a thousand memories of other years rushed on hersoul. The strange, fast-coming fancies that thronged her brain when shein early childhood roamed those dark, solemn woods, or sat at night onthe lowly cottage stile, gazing on the wild, grotesque shadows cast bythe moonbeams from the huge, forest trees; or how she listened to thesolemn hootings of the lonesome owl, the monotonous cuckoo, and suddenwhippoorwill; or laughed at the glowworm's light in the dark swamps, andasked her aunty if they were not a group of stars come down to playbo-peep in the meadows. 

And then she thought of George Wild, her early playfellow. He was awaynow, in a distant part of the country, whither he had been sent by hisfather to learn the carpenter's trade. He had come to bid her good-bywith tears in his eyes, not so much at parting from _her_, she fancied, as from dread of the active life before him. It would be hard to tellwhether Annie felt most pity or contempt for his weakness. He was theonly friend of her early childhood, and, _as_ such, she had still awarm, tender feeling at her heart for him; and, had he possessed abecoming energy and manliness of character, this childish feeling mighthave deepened into strong, enduring affection as years advanced. ButAnnie Evalyn could never love George Wild as he _was_; and thus shethought as she brushed away a tear that had unconsciously started duringher meditations, and found herself at the door of her aunt's cottage. She bounded over the threshold and into the old lady's arms, bestowing ashower of kisses ere poor Aunt Patty could sufficiently collect herselfand recover from the surprise to return her darling's lavish caresses. 

"Ah, yes, you naughty little witch! here you are at last, pretending tobe mighty glad to see your old aunty, though for two long months you'venever come near her. But, bless it, how pretty it grows! and how red itscheeks are, and how bright its eyes!" she exclaimed, brushing away thecurling locks and gazing into her darling's face. 

"But you'll forgive me, aunty, won't you?" said Annie, coaxingly. "Indeed, I meant to have come long before; but if you only knew how muchI have had to occupy my time, --so many things to learn, and such hard, hard lessons. "

"O, yes! always at your books, studying life away. "

"Why, aunty! you just exclaimed how fresh and blooming I was grown, andI've something so nice to tell you. There are some wealthy people fromthe west visiting at Parson Grey's, and they were in search of agoverness for their little children. Would you think it, aunty, theirchoice has fallen upon me? and I am to accompany them on their returnhome. They have a daughter about my own age, sweet Kate Prague. She willbe a fine companion--I love her so dearly now. "

Aunt Patty dropped her arms by her side, and remained silent after Anniehad ceased speaking. 

"What is the matter, aunty?" asked she, eagerly. 

"And so you, young, silly thing, are going to leave your friends and gooff with these strangers, that will treat you nobody knows how. Annie!Annie! does Parson Grey approve of this?"

"Yes, aunty; he thinks it will be a fine opportunity for me to seesomething of the world, and learn the arts and graces of politesociety. "

"Ah! but these great, rich folks are often unkind and overbearing, andoppress and treat with slight and scorn their dependents. "

"O, Mr. Grey knows this family well, and recommends them in the highestterms. "

"Well, for all that, I can't bear the thought of losing you. So youngand ignorant. "

"Ignorant, aunty? Why, Dr. Prague himself says I know twice as much ashis daughter Kate. "

"Ah! book-learnin' enough; but I will tell you, Annie, a littleexperience is better than all your books. "

"Well, how am I to obtain experience but by mingling in the world, andlearning its manners and customs?"

"Ah, dear! I fear you will find this world, you are so anxious to seeand know, is a hard, rough place. "

"Well, aunty, don't dishearten me at the outset. See what a nice box ofhoney I've brought you from Aunt Rachel Grey. Some of it will bedelightful on your light batter cakes, with a slice of old Crummie'syellow butter. I must go out and bid the dear old creature good-by. HowI used to love to drive her to the brook for water!"

"Ah, those were happy days for me, Annie!" said the old woman, sorrowfully. "I shall never see the like again. "

"Don't say so, aunty, " said Annie, her own heart experiencing a thrillof anguish at the prospect of leaving her old forest-home, and kind, loving protector. "I shall return some day, may be rich and famous, and_good_, too, I hope; for Parson Grey says 'tis better to be good thangreat. "

"God grant all your bright visions may be realized, Annie!" said theaunt fervently. 

"Now, while you prepare our evening meal, I'll run out and look at someof my old haunts, " said Annie, forcing back a tear, and trying to assumea cheerful countenance. 

So she wandered forth, while the grief-stricken woman spread the simpleboard; but she could not relish the clear, dripping honey-comb sent bythe kind Aunt Rachel, and long after Annie slept in her little cot-bed, did the old lady kneel over her sleeping form, weeping and praying forher darling child. Annie spent the ensuing day with her aunt at thecottage, and toward evening took a tearful leave, and bade adieu toScraggiewood. 

 CHAPTER VI. 

 "And there was envy in her look, And envy in her tone, As if her spirit might not brook, A rival near the throne. "

"But don't you see, Dr. Prague, it won't do at all to admit her intosociety on the same footing with our Catherine? For my part I don't seehow you could, for a moment, harbor so low an idea. "

In a far away period of time, the present honorable Mrs. Dr. Praguehad--shall we write it?--cut shoe-strings in her father's shop, and whyshould not she be a competent judge of the low and common, sinceexperience is regarded as the "best teacher" in _almost_ all mattersbeneath the sun?

"I say, " she reiterated, finding her remark elicited no response fromher worthy husband, "Annie Evalyn is not to be compared to ourCatherine. "

"I'm aware of that, " was the answer in a dry tone. 

"And don't you notice how the minx tries to put on the lady?"

"Not at all, madam; why should she strive to assume what is her naturalgarb?"

"Now really, Hippe, you are getting incorrigible. "

"Hippe" was a term of endearment, Mrs. Dr. Prague was accustomed toapply to her husband when she wished to be very killing andcondescending, his Christian name being Hippocrates. 

To this winning speech, however, the insensate Dr. Vouchsafed no reply;so his lovely wife tacked about and said, "Well, Dr. , to come to thepoint, this governess is a dangerous rival for your daughter. "

"I know it, " responded the good man, cutting up an orange, and passing asilver plate containing several slices to his fair lady; "here, Mrs. Prague, do regale yourself on this luscious fruit. It is the finest Ihave tasted this season. "

"Dr. Prague, when I am discussing matters of importance, I do not wishto be insulted by such frivolities. "

"Indeed, madam, " said the doctor, withdrawing the plate, and proceedingleisurely to the gratification of his own palate. 

There was a silence of some minutes, and then the lady, after fidgetingand arranging the folds of her brocade silk, resumed the conversation bysaying, in a huffy tone, "May I inquire what you intend to do about it, sir?"

"Begging your pardon, madam, " said the doctor, looking up from hisorange, "of what were you speaking?"

The lady frowned frightfully at this fresh instance of his inattentionto her discourse. 

"I only wished to know if you thought of marrying Frank Sheldon to AnnieEvalyn, in preference to your own daughter, " she exclaimed, in a biting, sarcastic tone. The _matter_ but not the _manner_ of this speech seemedto rouse the doctor's attention. 

"Frank Sheldon! Frank Sheldon!" he said quickly; "has he arrived fromhis travels then?"

"No, but he _will_ arrive some time. "

"O, yes, I trust so! But speaking of Annie, --_our_ Annie you know, forI'm proud that we have such a treasure beneath our roof----"

"Dr. Prague! are you mad? A paltry governess a treasure! I consider it ashame and disgrace to our house, that a poor, low, dependent, is allowedan equality in the family, and admitted through our influence to thefirst classes in society. And I'm not the only one that marks theshocking impropriety. My son-in-law, Lawrence Hardin, is possessed of adiscerning eye. He sees Kate loses wherever that girl is admitted. "

This speech was accompanied by immoderate vehemence, and energeticgestures, but it failed to produce the slightest effect upon thephlegmatic doctor, who, having finished his orange, settled himselfcomfortably in his easy-chair, and took a cigar and the morning paper toassist his digestion. 

"Thirteen increase from last week. I declare, our city is growingsickly, " he said, as his wife closed her oratorical harangue; "but, speaking of Annie again, she has a poetical gem in one of our popularmagazines this week, which I find accompanied by a complimentary notefrom the editor. She writes under a _nom de plume_, but I discoveredher. Have you read any of her writings, Mrs. Prague?"

"_Her_ writings! the bold, impertinent hussy! No, nor do I wish to. Butif I'm to be entertained with this sort of conversation, I'll go down tomy son-in-law, Esq. Hardin's; and there I'm sure to pass an agreeableday. Nothing low ever tarnishes his discourse. "

"Do so, madam, " said the imperturbable husband; "undoubtedly they willappreciate the honor of your presence. "

And with a disdainful toss the lady flouted out of the room, leaving thegood doctor to the undisturbed enjoyment of his cigar and papers. 

Annie Evalyn had been nine months an inmate of Dr. Prague's mansion, when the preceding scene was enacted. Some of that experience which AuntPatty had pronounced "better than book learnin', " had fallen to hershare. So far from her beauty and accomplishments winning friends andgood-will, they had only seemed to provoke the sneers and invidiousremarks of those who envied her superior attractions. She had seen thecontemptuous curl of the lip, and heard the epithet, "low-borncreature. " She had bitterly learned that genius and beauty are not thecurrent coins of society; and she sometimes thought the old adage, "Knowledge is power, " would read truer, "Money is power. " But though shehad dark hours, her young heart's courage had not failed. Still theunalterable purpose was firm, to be active, to be striving for fame, honor and good repute. Latterly she had turned her attention to literarysubjects, and produced several pieces that received warm commendationfrom the press. 

Annie had been but a few weeks in her new residence, ere her quick eyediscerned that Mrs. Prague looked upon her with envy and jealousy, andshe endeavored to conciliate the lady's esteem by gentleness andcondescension; but all efforts were vain. She persisted in her coldnessand perversity. This was so unpleasant to Annie that she several timessignified her readiness to leave when her presence was no longerdesired; but the old doctor, who was her most zealous advocate, declaredhe should go distracted if she left them. Kate cried and the childrenhowled in terror at the prospect of such a calamity. Mrs. Prague lookedlofty and said, "Miss Evalyn was a trusty governess, and they mightincrease her salary if she thought it insufficient. "

"Double it, if she says so, " said the doctor; "but money can't rewardservices like hers. How could you pay the sun for illuminating yourdrawing-rooms, Mrs. Prague?"

And Mrs. Prague darted an angry glance, and said she would go down toher son-in-law's. 

 CHAPTER VII. 

 "To love's sweet tones my heart shall never thrill; Nor, as the tardy years their circles roll, Shall they the ardor of its pulses chill. "

Reclining on a silken sofa, in a luxurious apartment, was a lady in theprime of youth and beauty. She was robed in a white, wrought-muslingown, and her glossy ringlets lay in dark relief on its snowy folds. Shewas reading at intervals from a small gilt volume, but with a wanderinglistlessness of manner, as though it were a weary effort to fix herattention upon its contents. 

This was the wife of Lawrence Hardin, Esq. , one of the most wealthy, influential men in that part of the country. He arrived there from theeast a few years before, bringing a large fortune, which he came inpossession of by the sudden death of his parents. He embarked largely inspeculations, and was very successful; in consequence of which, themercantile class in their most critical junctures looked up to him as asuperior and safeguard. He soon grew to be a man of great power andinfluence, and in the full tide of prosperity bore away the beautifulMarion Prague, the reigning belle of the city, as his bride. There was arumor afloat that the match afforded the fair lady but meagresatisfaction, and that her taste and wishes were not much consulted inthe matter; but the angry importunities of her proud, self-willed motherat length induced her to marry a man she did not love. But this idlereport was hushed after their marriage, and the devotion of the youngcouple loudly descanted on in fashionable circles throughout the city;for was not Hardin all attention, and how could she avoid loving so finea fellow? So the world called it a nice match, and passed on. Let uspause for a glance behind the scenes. 

A slight tap at the door of that elegant boudoir, and then it swungsoftly on its gilded hinges, and a gentleman, richly dressed, withshining hat, dark broadcloth over-coat, and a light bamboo stick in hisneatly-gloved hand, entered and approached the couch on which the ladyreclined. He was rather above the medium height, of commanding figure, with jetty hair and mustaches and deep-set, piercing black eyes. Layingaside hat and gloves, he sat down by the sofa, and commenced playfullypoking the long, wavy ringlets that lay on the crimson damask pillowwith the gold tip of his tiny walking-cane. She had resumed her book onhis first appearance, and continued to peruse its pages. She did notlook toward him, or speak, and it was evident, from a slightly-cloudedbrow, that his presence rather annoyed than pleased her. 

This was Lawrence Hardin and lady in the privacy of their own apartment. 

"Why don't you speak to me, Marion?" he asked, at length. 

No answer, and the brow grew darker. He bent over her, and endeavored totake the book from her hand. She tightened her grasp for a moment toresist his efforts, and then, suddenly relaxing her hold, turned towardthe wall. 

He gazed on her several moments with a mingled expression of anger andwounded tenderness, and then turned away. 

Half an hour later the young wife met her husband in the breakfast-room, and presided with benign and gracious dignity over his well-laid table;inquired "if Esq. Hardin found the chocolate and sardines to hisrelish;" and he extolled Mrs. Hardin's excellent superintendence ofdomestic affairs; said business in his office would detain him from hertill the dinner hour, and, expressing a hope that she might pass themorning agreeably, bowed himself out of the presence of his lovely wife, who replied to his civilities courteously, and even smiled brightly athis parting nod at the hall door. And the servants in attendance saw andlistened; and reported, and enlarged on the "wonderful love" andhappiness of their young master and mistress. So this _nice match_ wasnoised abroad over the whole city, and a hundred families envied thedomestic felicity of Esq. Hardin and wife. O, the endless masquerade oflife!

Several weeks later the unloved husband entered his young lady'sapartment. She stood before the dressing-table, arranging her hair forthe evening. She cast a brief glance toward him, and then proceededquietly with her toilet. The chilling indifference wounded him acutely, and he addressed her rather hastily: "Marion, do you think I shallalways have patience?"

"I don't know, I'm sure, " she answered, carelessly; "but of what do youcomplain? Do I not perform the duties of your mansion in a manner tosatisfy your fastidious tastes?"

"Don't mock or trifle, " he said, bitterly. "I'm not a machine, or anautomaton, and I want something more than my servants, my drawing-roomand table well attended, to satisfy my heart. "

"You knew I did not love you when you married me. "

"Yes, but I did _not_ know that you hated me. "

"Nor did I. "

"And what have I done since to incur your detestation?"

"Nothing. "

"Well, then, will you treat me with a little less of this freezingcoldness and scorn when we are alone together?"

Tears started in those beautiful eyes, and he advanced to embrace her, but she motioned him away. No, they were not there for him. Shestruggled a few moments, and then, uncovering her face, said calmly:

"Sit down, Lawrence; I will endeavor to comply with your wishes. "

He drew a damask fauteuil opposite the one on which she was reclining, and sank among its downy cushions. The rays of the setting sun streamedinto the richly-furnished apartment and fell upon the two occupants. 

"What news in the city, to-day?" inquired Marion, at length. 

"Nothing particularly interesting, I believe, " he answered. "I was atyour father's to-night; they are making preparations for a large partynext week, given in honor of Frank Sheldon's arrival. "

Some noise in the street at this moment attracted his attention, and herose to look forth. When he turned again, he beheld his wife lying onthe carpet pale and cold as marble. 

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 "Strange scenes will often follow on abrupt surprise. "

Annie Evalyn was alone in her apartment. A servant had just left a smallpackage, and she was now occupied with its contents. First was a letterfrom the good parson, full of fatherly advice and admonition; then onefrom Netta, a sheet written full, in a neat, delicate hand, describing avisit to Aunt Patty's cottage, and a score of messages enumerated whichthe old lady had desired transmitted to her "dear hinny, " as she stillcalled Annie. "Tell her I don't tell fortunes now, for I know she willlike to hear that; because once I remember she said, 'I wouldn't tellfortunes, aunty, for I don't think it is respectable. ' So tell her Iearn a good living by spinning on my little wheel, and try to be happythinking she is so. But, sometimes, when the wind howls through the deepwoods, I can't help feeling lonesome, and think, if Annie were only hereto sing some of her pretty songs, how cheery the old walls would look!And tell her, if she should ever grow tired and heart-sick in the midstof the world's fashions and splendors, the old thatched roof inScraggiewood will joy to shelter her; and the old heart here will warmand love her into life and happiness again. "

Annie felt the tears come as she read, for she had often of lateexperienced a longing wish for a gentle friend in whom to confide andtrust. 

Now Netta spoke of their home at the vicarage. "It was lonesome yet, "she said, "and the old study had never worn a cheerful aspect since itsgood genius departed. Father and Aunt Rachel spoke of bright-faced Annieevery day; but most of all _she_ missed the dear, loving companion whenshe retired to her chamber at night. " And then she wrote, "Your oldfriend George Wild, has returned quite a changed being, I assure you. Ithink you must have infused some of your energy and action into hisnature, for he has become an active business man. He works at his tradein the village, and I see him frequently. We have long, cosey chatsabout you, Annie. " Annie laughed as she read. 

"Dear little Netta!" she exclaimed, "I see through it all; it is clearas day. But I'm willing you should use my name, darling, to subserveyour timidity. I'll answer this sweet letter this morning. I'm alone, and now is a good time. "

She looked about for her writing-materials, and suddenly remembered shehad left them in the school-room the evening previous. As she lightlydescended the stairs, the bell rang, and the hall door being open, shecame in full view of a gentleman standing on the marble steps e'er shewas aware, and in another moment he was at her side, exclaiming, "Astonishing! Is it possible? Can this be Kate Prague?"

Annie blushed as she perceived his mistake, and hastened to rectify it. 

"I am not Miss Prague, " she said, "but a member of the family atpresent. I think I have the honor of addressing Mr. Sheldon. " He bowedgracefully. 

"The ladies are gone out for a short drive this morning. Will you bepleased to wait their return in the drawing-room?"

He accepted the invitation and entered the apartment, offering, as hedid so, an apology for his mistake, which she acknowledged with anotherrising blush. 

"I think Dr. Prague received intelligence last evening that you wouldnot arrive till next week, " she remarked, as they were seated in theparlor. "Had they expected you sooner, I'm sure they would have been athome to receive you. "

"I did send a letter to that effect, " he said; "but the improvedfacilities of travelling have enabled me to reach the city sooner than Ianticipated. "

A silence ensued. Annie felt ill at ease. She had received many hints ofthe lofty, aristocratic notions of Frank Sheldon. She knew him to bewealthy, and the prospective lover of Kate Prague; that is, Kate hadinformed her that "Marion had been first designed for him; but by somemeans that plan failed, and then mother married her to Hardin, andSheldon was left for her. She supposed she should marry him some time, though she did not care a fig for him, he was so grave, and alwaystalking on literary subjects which she could not understand andtherefore mortally abhorred. "

All this passed quickly through Annie's mind, and, rising, she said she"thought the ladies would soon return; perhaps he could amuse himselfwith the contents of the centre-table a brief while. "

"O, yes!" he said politely. "I can ever pass time agreeably with booksand paintings. " She courtesied and retired to her own apartment. "What avision of loveliness!" he mentally exclaimed when left alone. "I wonderif Kate Prague is half so beautiful. Who can this lady be?"

A carriage now rattled up to the door, and the ladies came bundling intothe apartment. He suddenly recollected he was there unannounced, butwhat could he do?

"Bless me! Mercy! Why, Mr. Sheldon here, and nobody to receive him! Whatmust he think?" exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in a tone of astonishment. 

"I'm most concerned, my good madam, " said he, advancing, for what youmust think to find me so unceremoniously ensconced in yourdrawing-room. "

"Don't say a word about that, " was the answer. "Was not this once yourhome? I hope you will still regard it in that light. Kate, come forward;here is Mr. Sheldon. I declare, what a delightful surprise!" The olddoctor now entered, and burst into a torrent of welcome on beholdingSheldon. 

"How did you get here, my boy, " he asked, "to steal upon us so slyly, when I received a letter only yesterday saying you would not reach usbefore next week?"

Sheldon explained briefly. When he mentioned that a young lady hadescorted him to the parlor, and invited him to await the family'sreturn, a visible frown lowered over Mrs. Prague's before smilingcountenance, and she and Catherine soon excused themselves to preparefor dinner. 

 CHAPTER IX. 

 "But, ah! if thou hadst loved me--had I been All to thy dreams that to mine own thou art. "

On a dim, gray morning in early winter, Lawrence Hardin sat by the couchof his wife, her thin, wasted hand lying unconsciously in his, and herquick, heavy breathings moving the dark locks of his hair, as he bentlow over her sleeping form. Three months had passed since that faintingscene, and the young wife had encountered a long, severe stroke ofillness. The husband watched incessantly by her bed-side, for he wouldnot suffer her wild, fevered ravings to be heard by other ears than hisown. 

It was all revealed to him. He knew he had married a woman whose heartwas another's, and that she had been compelled to the step by thethreats and vehemence of her mother. 

O, how the strong man writhed in his agony! To know Marion did not lovehim, was enough to endure; but to know she loved another, ah! that wasmadness. His passions were roused to fury, yet not on _her_ should theywreak their vengeance. No; on the man that had stolen her love from him, or rather the man on whom she had bestowed her love, Frank Sheldon. Onhis devoted head should the vengeance fall. 

Thus he resolved, but kept his fell design buried in his own breast, and, by an engaging exterior, sought to lure his victim into his toils. 

Sheldon was a brave, generous fellow. Left early an orphan, he had beenreared in the family of Dr. Prague, who was instituted guardian of thelarge fortune left by his parents. He was endowed by nature with fineintellectual abilities, and an exquisite taste for the grand andbeautiful in nature and art, and, during three years' travel in foreignparts, had so improved upon these natural advantages, as to standacknowledged one of the most elegant and accomplished young men of hiscountry. But it often happens that such high-wrought natures are butpoorly versed in the plodding concerns of this nether world. And thus itwas with him. Alive to every lofty feeling and generous impulse, hefancied others like himself. Low cunning and artifice were unknown tohis bosom, and consequently he would fall the easier victim to Hardin'sscheme of revenge. 

And now there came another fact to this base man's knowledge. Sheldonhad not only robbed him of Marion's affections, but had won and slightedKate Prague, to fall in love with Annie Evalyn. Worse still, the passionwas mutual. That _he_ saw and knew long before the parties themselveshad acknowledged the growing love in the still depths of their ownbeating hearts, much more given voice to the feeling in words. 

Love is so blind, and shy, and unbelieving, the poets tell us. HadSheldon's love met no response, then Hardin's revenge had been in partgratified; but now it was only whetted to a keener edge, for he saw, orfancied he saw, not only his rival's happiness, but the sister of thewoman he loved pining from an unrequited affection. 

As he revolved these dark thoughts in his vile breast, the hand he heldmoved suddenly, and the sleeper murmured in her dreams. He bent his eareagerly to catch the sound, but it was gone. He smoothed the damp, darklocks away from the pale brow, and gazed on her thin, attenuatedfeatures--yet more beautiful, they seemed to him, than in the ruddy glowof health. O that she would open her eyes and gaze up tenderly into his!And when she was able to sit in a soft-cushioned chair, robed in a snowydressing-gown, and propped with pillows, receiving his attentions withsuch a pretty shyness and distrust; or a few weeks later, when, stillmore recovered, leaning so coyly on his arm to wander over her splendidmansion again, and looking so timidly in his face, as if, now her secretwas known, she had no right to claim or expect tenderness from him;--allthis reserve made her so much dearer, and he thought, if she would butgive him one little look of love, he would even forget his meditatedrevenge on Sheldon. 

But, ah! he looked in vain for lurking love in those cold, beautifuleyes. There was submission, --there was gratitude; but what were those?

Again the fashionable world said, "Esq. Hardin and lady are more devotedthan ever;" and they congratulated Mrs. Dr. Prague on the _nice match_she had secured for her daughter Marion. And the haughty, vain motherexulted, for she was a superficial observer of human nature, and couldnot, or _would_ not, see the wasting woe that was preying on herdaughter's health and beauty. 

It was a gay season at the doctor's mansion. Sheldon's arrival was thesignal for a round of entertainments among the élite of the city; for, be it known, there were others than good Mrs. Prague anxious to secureso eligible a match for their daughters, as the handsome, rich andgifted Frank Sheldon. A manoeuvring mother! reader, hast ever seenone? And if so, dost know of another so contemptible thing in the wholebroad realm of the low, sordid and despicable?

The good old doctor, with his usual obstinacy, insisted that AnnieEvalyn should make one of all the parties of amusement; and, in truth, Sheldon was quite as anxious to secure her society as was the doctor to"set her forward, " as Mrs. Prague expressed it. That lady wasexceedingly vexed and mortified at the turn matters were taking; butKate, partaking largely of her father's easy nature, seemed as merry andwell-pleased as though Sheldon had fallen in love with her, instead ofAnnie Evalyn; for it began to be whispered in the upper circles that"Dr. Prague's pretty governess had captivated the fascinating Sheldon. "Many ugly grimaces distorted the proper faces of marriageable daughters;and captious, ill-natured remarks were indulged in by disappointedmaidens, who had beggared their fathers' pockets to purchase silks andsatins, jewels and diamonds, to carry by storm the heart of the elegant, accomplished Frank Sheldon. 

Alas for human hopes and expectations! And what a perverse, capricious, wilful little fellow is this god of love, whom we all worship and makeofferings to in one form or another! Why, he never goes where he should;that is, you may hang him a dome, with golden draperies, stud the wallswith pearls and rubies, put a divinity there, beautiful as the fabledhouris, and robed in eastern magnificence, with discretion's self toopen the portal and invite his entrance; still, he goes not in. Ahumming-bird around a rose has caught his vagrant eye, and he is off tofollow its roamings from flower to flower. Was ever such an improvident, self-willed creature as this boy, Cupid?

 CHAPTER X. 

 "It is an era strange, yet sweet, Which every woman's heart hath known, When first her bosom learns to beat To the soft music of a tone; That era, when she first begins To know what love alone can teach, That there are hidden depths within Which friendship never yet could reach. "

Annie Evalyn was alone in her room, a second time, sitting down toanswer her friend Netta's letter. It was the first leisure she had knownin several weeks, and she would hardly have commanded it now, but thatSheldon was gone to conclude an extensive land contract, into which hewas entering with Lawrence Hardin; allured by flattering representationsof the immense emolument sure to result from these speculations, whenemigration should raise to an untold value the worth of those extensivetracts, then lying wild and uncultivated through those westerncountries. 

Dr. Prague had also advised him to the course, regarding it as theeasiest method of keeping good the fortune of Sheldon, whose choice ofliterature as a profession tended rather to diminish than increase hiscoffers. And so he embarked his all with Hardin; and all thought himsure to succeed in the enterprise, with so far-seeing and judicious apartner to counsel and direct. 

We return to Annie. She had opened her portfolio, and placed before hera pure, virgin page. Twirling the enamelled top from her inkstand, andfastening a gold pen to a pearl-wrought handle, she commenced her task. 

 "I scarcely know what to say, dear Netta; there are so many thoughts crowded on my brain for utterance, that I can scarcely decide what it is best to say, and what leave unsaid. One thing I feel sure of, that whatever is imparted in confidence, will remain safe in your trusty bosom; and O, how blessed am I, in the possession of such a friend! Would you were here beside me this evening, your arm clasped tenderly about my neck, your dear, earnest eyes looking in mine. But, alas! we are far asunder. Your sweet letter brought many vivid pictures before my mind of the happy hours passed in that study room, and, still further back, that childhood in the rocky cottage of Scraggiewood. Tell aunty, I still love to call her as in my childish days, and hope the time is not very far distant when I may run into her arms for a hearty kissing. 

 "But, Netta, I know you are all eagerness to hear what I'm doing here; how I speed on my aspiring way, and what is my progress toward the temple of fame it was e'er my proudest wish to enter. 

 "Alas, Netta! I'm ashamed to say the indefatigable Annie Evalyn has relapsed her energies, has faltered in her pursuit of glory, and surrendered herself to the enjoyment of the passing hour. And yet I was never so happy as now; no, never in my life. To love and to be loved; dear sis, do you know what it is? If not, no words of mine can tell you. Frank Sheldon has never told me his heart was mine, but it is a poor love that needs words to express it, I fancy. He is rich, handsome and honored; yet it is not for these I love him, but because his tastes and feelings are in unison with mine. 

 "But, Netta, I have to endure some ill will, and cold looks, which detract from my happiness. A share of that experience aunty declared 'better than books, ' has been taught my hopeful nature, and often do I think of your kind father's tender admonitions. 

 "Adieu, dearest; I've told my tale in brief. I need not say, guard it well. 

 "You have seen some of my simple productions in the magazines, and are pleased to think well of them, for which I thank you kindly. I'm writing none at present. With love to all, I am, "Truly, "ANNIE. "

The letter was folded and directed as she heard a voice in the hallcalling her name. It was Sheldon's; and a bright smile irradiated herfeatures, as, throwing aside the writing materials, she prepared to godown. He met her on the stairs. 

"I couldn't find you anywhere, " he said, "and the parlors were dark andcold as midnight. Where have you been and how occupied all the whileI've been away winding up that tiresome contract with Hardin?"

"In my room, writing a letter to a friend, " she answered, with apleasant smile, as he was leading her through the several parlors, tofix on one exactly suited to his taste. 

"Writing?" said he, reproachfully; "O, Annie!"

"Why, what of that?" she asked. 

"O, nothing, I suppose; but I can't endure to think you can sit down, cold and calm, when I'm away, and indite your thoughts on paper. I canneither read, write, nor think, without you, Annie. "

She blushed at these words. 

"Come, " he continued, drawing her close to his side; "I need not tellyou I love you, Annie, for that you know already; but you can render mevery happy, by speaking one little word in answer to a question I wantto ask. "

Still blushing and turning away her eyes, and he gazing so eloquentlyupon her downcast features. 

"Will you speak it, Annie?"

"Let me hear the question, " she said. 

He inclined his head and whispered in her ear. She placed her hand inhis, and he looked most happily answered as he wound his arm round herwaist and pressed the little hand close to his heart. 

There was a band of wandering musicians playing in the street, and heled her to the casement. She leaned lightly against his shoulder, andthus they stood there listening to the music. It was rough enough, andcould hardly have pleased at any other time; but it sounded like thesymphonies of angels to them now. O, what divine strains! But the melodywas all in their own hearts. The screeching wheels of a dirt cart wouldhave failed to strike a dissonance upon their ears; for all naturerolled on in linked harmony to them; they fancied they were very nearheaven, and so they were; they thought they could not be much happier ifthey were really there, and it is doubtful if they could. 

Thus wrapped in their new-found happiness, let us leave with propheticgood-night. 

 CHAPTER XI. 

 "So fails, so languishes, grows dim and dies, All that this world is proud of. From their spheres The stars of human glory are cast down. Perish the roses and the flowers of kings, Princes and emperors, and the crowns and palms Of all the mighty, withered and consumed. Nor is power long given to lowliest innocence Long to protect her own. "

"Hardin, don't you remember the old fortune-telling hag that used tokeep office in a heap of rocks in that deuced rough hole calledScraggiewood?" asked a gay, reckless-looking young man, as he lighted acigar, and settled himself in a comfortable armchair with feet elevatedon the fender. 

"Indeed I do, " responded Hardin, quickly. "You and I made her a visitone evening, you know, and she drew forth rather ominous fortunes forboth of us from her teapot of destiny. Ha, ha! what was it the hag toldme, Sumpter?"

"That you would be a wicked fellow, marry a lovely woman, who wouldn'tcare a picayune for you, and live after you wished you were dead, Ibelieve, or something to that import, wasn't it?"

"Well, I reckon 'twas some talk of this sort; but what brought thisincident to your mind now, Jack?"

"It was recalled by sight of that young lady at your father-in-law's. Don't you remember, that night we were at the rock den in Scraggiewood, there was a child, a little girl, sleeping on a pallet in the room?"

"Yes, perfectly. "

"Well, that child and this young lady are one and the same. "

"It cannot be!" exclaimed Hardin, quickly. 

"It is so, I'm positive. But stop; what is this girl's name?"

"Annie Evalyn. "

"Exactly. I asked the old crone that night what was her child's name, and she told me the one you have just repeated. "

"Is it possible?" ejaculated Hardin in a ruminating manner. 

"It is easy to convince your doubts. Just engage her in conversation andallude to her early life. She'll betray herself, my word for it. BesidesI've heard of her since you left the east. She had a beau there atScraggiewood, one George Wild; and after picking up some education at acountry parson's, came west as governess in a wealthy family. Theseseveral things have recurred to my memory since beholding her at Dr. Prague's last evening; for, depend upon it, this fine lady, whocaptivates all hearts, is the old Scraggiewood witch's daughter. "

After this speech from Sumpter a silence ensued. Hardin was revolving inhis mind whether to divulge his plan of revenge to his companion, andenlist him as a co-worker to assist in the completion of his schemes. Hesaw this accidental information would aid in furthering his plans. Howshould he use it? He rose and paced the floor. 

"Jack, " he said at length, giving him a slap on the shoulder, "can Itrust you?"

"Always, Hardin, " was the ready response. "I am yours to command. "

Another pause, and Hardin continued to pace the floor with nervous, uneven steps. At length, as he passed the large, oval window, he caughta glimpse of his wife walking in the conservatory. Approaching, hetapped slightly on the glass to arrest her attention. She turned, and afrown gathered on her features as she met his earnest, affectionategaze. O, Marion! why couldn't you have smiled then? What might not onegenial look from your sweet eyes have averted?

Hardin turned away, his heart cold and callous. 

"Fool am I to hesitate!" he muttered; "who cares for me, and whom shouldI care for?"

Drawing a chair close to Sumpter's, they conferred in whispers for thespace of an hour. Then both arose. 

"Now make yourself presentable, Jack, " said Hardin, "and we'll proceedforthwith to put our scheme afoot. "

"I shall be ready in due season, " was the answer. 

There was a select company assembled at Dr. Prague's mansion, enjoyingthe evening in music and conversation. Annie had just sung a song thatelicited much applause, and Sheldon had contrived to draw her aside towhisper some word of tenderness in her ear. 

"Frank, " said she, "I feel strangely to-night. "

"Why, Annie, are you not happy?"

"Yes, but I tremble; I'm frightened. I feel as if some awful danger wereimpending. "

As she Spoke thus, the door opened, and Esq. Hardin, and his friend, Mr. Sumpter, were announced. They mingled with the company and soonapproached the group in which Sheldon and Annie had chosen a place. Hardin presented his friend to the several ladies and gentlemencomposing the circle, and passed on, leaving Sumpter sitting oppositeAnnie. Glancing casually toward him, she found his gaze riveted on herface. 

"May I ask, miss, " he said, "if you are not from the eastern country?"

She replied in the affirmative. 

"Well, I thought I could not be so much mistaken. How are you contentedaway out here?"

"Very well, sir, " she answered. 

"Ay, indeed. I've heard say old loves were hard to forget; but I supposenew ones will obliterate them if anything will. "

By this time the attention of the group was drawn to them. 

"Do you ever hear from your old Aunt Patty, now?" he continued, in thesame bold, familiar manner. 

Annie was startled to hear these words from one who was a stranger toher; but as so many eyes were on them, she thought best to answercourteously, and said, "I do sir, frequently. "

"Does she live there in the old rock heap at Scraggiewood, and tellfortunes and bewitch sitting hens yet?"

"Sir!" exclaimed Sheldon, "how dare you thus insult a lady in company?"

"O, be cool, my good fellow! I never yet heard it was an insult toinquire after one's honest relations, and I've done nothing more, asthis lady I'm sure will admit. I can perhaps give you some informationrespecting your former lover, George Wild, Miss Evalyn, " he continued;"he is good and true yet. "

A scream from Annie arrested his words. She had fainted. Sheldon boreher from the room amidst a buzz of voices, in which Sumpter's wasloudest, declaring he "did not mean to embarrass the young lady. He didnot know but what they were all acquainted with her early history. "

Sheldon did not rejoin the company, and during the remainder of theevening Sumpter disseminated an exaggerated account of Annie's low birthand disgraceful parentage among the guests. The tale found too manywilling ears; and Annie was pronounced a vile, artful deceiver, by thosewho envied her talents and beauty. 

 CHAPTER XII. 

 "Alas, the joys that fortune brings Are trifling and decay! And those who prize the paltry things, More trifling still than they. And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth and fame, But leaves the wretch to weep?"

When Annie Evalyn recovered consciousness, Sheldon was bending over her, bathing her temples with cologne. As the memory of the recent scenerushed over her, her cheeks flushed, and she glanced timidly in hisface. It was cold--stern, she fancied. 

"Annie, " said he, in a measured tone, "you are better now. I will leaveyou for to-night, and to-morrow shall hope for an explanation of what, Imust confess, seems strange and mysterious to me at present. Good-night!" and he turned to leave the room. 

"Good-night!" she faintly articulated, her eyes following his retreatingfigure till the door closed and excluded him from view. "Yes, and a longgood-night too, Frank Sheldon!" she continued, when she was alone; "ifyou can thus coldly turn from me, --thus lightly suspect me of artificeand deceit. O, my God, what a blow! and to fall at such a moment, when Ibelieved myself almost at the pinnacle of happiness! Surely, thearch-fiend directed the hand. Such words to be spoken in a fashionablecircle; and they'll all accredit it, for they have, --Heaven knowswhy!--long been seeking something to my dispraise. And besides, I cannotcontradict the man's words, for are they not too true? and yet, O mustI be blamed for my humble parentage? O aunty, aunty, I'll not cast asingle reflection! You say you've left off fortune-telling for _my_sake--but it is too late now; and perhaps you'll need resort to it againto support your poor, unfortunate Annie. I'm going to you, aunty; therough roof of old Scraggiewood will be above me in a few weeks. Would Ihad never wandered from beneath its homely shelter! Truly, the world_is_ a hard, cold place, aunty, as you forewarned; but I could notbelieve it then. "

Annie rose and proceeded mechanically to place a few necessary articlesof clothing in a small satchel; this done, she sat down by the window towait till all was quiet below. The rich clothing, the wages and presentsshe had received during her two years' residence beneath that roof, --shewould leave them all behind; they were bestowed when she was deemed aworthy object, and _now_ they would consider it was a vile, artfuldeceiver that had sought to ingratiate herself into their favor toaccomplish her own low, selfish designs. She was a fool for going abroadin the great world; a fool to think she could ever become respectedand loved. _Love!_ There was no such thing! Had not Frank Sheldon, thirty-six hours after he vowed to love her forever, turned coldly awayat a moment when she most needed his comforting attentions? And, as shethus thought, a groan of agony escaped her breast. There came a lighttap on the door, and Kate entered hurriedly. 

"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, embracing the suffering girl warmly, "I don't believe a word that man said, nor does father either. He saysif you are Satan's daughter, you are better and prettier, and wiser, than the best of them. As for Frank, he has not spoken since the companyleft, and I believe he is struck dumb. I was going to follow him when hebrought you out, but mother prevented me. "

"She is enraged at me, of course, " said Annie. 

"O, she is hasty, you know!" returned Kate. "I dare say all will beright in a day or two; so dry your eyes and go to sleep, and wake up asmerry as if that ugly Mr. Sumpter had never come here with his impudentstories. For my part, I wonder Lawrence should bring such a monster intogenteel society;" and with a kiss they parted. 

Annie sat motionless another hour, and then, cautiously opening thedoor, listened breathlessly a few moments. All was still; and, takingher satchel, she glided noiselessly down the stairs and into the street. Her heart sank within her as the cold wind struck her cheek; but shemoved rapidly forward, eager to place a distance between her and thescene of her abasement. Soon she was on the broad, rough prairie road, over which a waning moon cast pale, sickly beams. By daylight shereached a settler's cabin, and learned that a stage-coach would passthere in a few moments, bound eastward. She requested the privilege ofwaiting its arrival, which was readily granted, and also suchrefreshments placed before her as the cabin afforded; but she could noteat. The coach soon appeared, and she rejoiced to find herself the onlypassenger. The door was closed, and the hard, jolting vehicle rumbled onits way. And here was Annie Evalyn, the beautiful, the gifted, theadmired Annie Evalyn of yesterday, flying like a guilty outcast from thescenes amid which she had been so happy. 

Great was the surprise at Dr. Prague's mansion, on the followingmorning, when Annie's flight became known. No token was left by which aclue to her course might be discovered. Sheldon carried himself like acrazy one. The old doctor bustled about, and said he would search theworld over to bring her back. Kate cried, and the children loudlybewailed the loss of their dear governess. Mrs. Prague seemed the onlycalm and rational one in the household; she declared herself glad to getrid of the baggage, and considered her flight proof positive of herguilt. 

This view seemed rather plausible certainly. If innocent, why did shenot remain and boldly refute the tale Sumpter had told?

When the news of her flight was made known to Esquire Hardin, he laughedheartily, and called up Sumpter to join him. The latter expressedhimself "sorry if he had unwittingly been the cause of an unpleasantoccurrence in Dr. Prague's family. "

"What, the deuce!" said Hardin, "do you suppose they wish to harbor ayoung witch?"

"Why, no, --but this gentleman, Mr. Sheldon. "

"Give yourself no uneasiness in regard to me, sir!" said Sheldon, sternly. "I will manage and control my own affairs. "

"Bravely spoken, Frank!" remarked Hardin, "Now let us adjourn to thedinner-saloon and drink a merry bout over fortunate denouement. "

 CHAPTER XIII. 

 "It was a bitter pain That pierced her gentle heart; For barbed by malice was the dart, And sped by treachery's deadliest art, The shaft ne'er sped in vain. "

The wild winds wailed wofully over the lonesome prairie, smiting sadlyupon poor Annie's heavy heart as she sat in the hard, jolting coach, which, owing to the bad state of the roads, made but sorry progress. Itwas already dark, and the driver said they had yet ten miles to ride inorder to reach the nearest post town. They entered a dense timber land, and the wheels struck deep into a loose, gravelly sand, so the poorhorses could scarcely drag on at a slow walk. The coachman hallooed andcracked his whip about their ears, but all to no effect; the animalswere worn down by a hard day's travel; and Annie, annoyed by hisboisterous vociferations, at last put her head out the window and beggedhim not to beat the jaded animals, but let them proceed at their ownpace. 

"All one to me, miss, " was the answer; "did it to please you; thoughtyou mought be a hungry, or mebbe sort o' tired, a settin' in there allalone so. Whoa, Johnny! take it easy since it is the lady's wish. Weshall be just as well off a hundred years hence, I dare say, and supperwill be sweeter, the longer delayed. "

With this philosophical reflection, he relapsed into silence, and fortwo hours they continued to drag through the heavy sand, with nothing torelieve the monotony, save the shrill bark of the wolf, far in the deepforest, answered by the deep growl of the bear, or piercing cry of theferocious catamount. 

Annie shivered with nervous terror at these wild, savage sounds; andwhen at last, as they reached the open prairie, and struck a harderbottom, the horses mended their paces, she felt sensibly relieved. Atlength they entered a small, new town, and drew up before a large, awkward building. The steps were lowered and Annie alighted, and soonfound herself in a long, dingy apartment, with a bright pine-wood fireblazing and crackling in a huge, yawning fire-place at its farthestextremity. She was chilled, and sat down before the glowing hearth towarm her benumbed fingers. Presently a tall woman, in a short-sleevedfrock and large deer-skin moccasins, strode into the room, and with adeep, ungainly courtesy asked, "What the lady would be thinking to takefor a bit of supper?"

Annie answered she would take a biscuit and cup of tea, if she pleased, and then retire to her apartment, as she was much fatigued. 

"And won't you have a chunk o' venison, or cold 'possum, to make yourbiscuit relish, miss?" asked the woman. 

"No, I thank you, " said Annie; "I don't feel much hungry to-night. "

"Why, I reckoned you must be well-nigh starved, a ridin' all day long, and nothing to lay your jaws to; but, howsomever, you know your ownwants best. "

The woman went out, and soon returned with Annie's supper spread on apine board. Annie could hardly repress a smile at sight of the noveltea-table. Her meal was quickly despatched, and she again signified herwish to retire. It was a rough, dismal apartment into which she wasushered, but, tired and jaded, she threw herself on the hard couch, and, despite the trouble at her heart, slept soundly till morning. 

On rising, her first thought was to examine her little stock of money, and she found it amounted to only seventeen dollars and a half, out ofwhich she must pay her coach and tavern fare. It was evident that shemust seek some employment to assist in defraying her travellingexpenses. The question was, whether she should remain where she was, orgo on as far as her scanty means would carry her. She went out to makesome inquiries of the woman who had waited on her the night previous. 

"Get some work to do, miss!" said she in a tone of surprise. "What canyou do? Can you cut fodder, or cradle rye, or catch 'possums?"

Annie smiled, and said, "No, but I can teach school, do sewing, orhousework. "

"Wall, I don't know; you look a mighty fine lady to be asking for work;but then it is none o' my business to be pryin' into other folks'concerns. We are new settlers here, and have to get along as close as wecan. I don't reckon you'll find anybody rich enough to hire ye in thesediggins. You'll do better along further east, where folks are richer andmore 'fined. "

Matters looked unpromising, and Annie concluded to follow the woman'ssuggestion, and travel on as far as the small funds would carry her. Butin the two years she had been at the west, the facilities for travellinghad improved, and prices were also reduced, so that her little pursecarried her much further on her route than she had expected. When itfinally gave out, she with great joy found she was but fifty miles fromher destination, and with a courageous heart resolved to perform theremainder of the journey on foot. 

Accordingly, she set forward. The weather was fine, and she did notdoubt her ability to accomplish the distance in two days, at farthest. Every mile passed inspired her with fresh courage, for was she not somuch nearer a heart that loved her? O, how she longed to be clasped tothat warm, beating bosom, and weep her sorrows forth to one she knewwould pity, sympathize, and strive to heal!

 CHAPTER XIV. 

 "Do you come with the heart of your childhood back, The free, the pure, the kind? Thus murmured the trees in the homeward track, As they played at the sport of the wind. "

The autumn evening stole calmly, sweetly on. Again October's harvestmoon rode through the liquid ether, and poured her silvery beams overthe wild, old forest of Scraggiewood, as we saw it long ago when AnnieEvalyn's years were calm and golden-hued as Luna's gentle rays. She wascoming now to the low, cottage home. With weary, languid step, shethreaded the old, familiar path, and it seemed to have grown rougher, and the forest looked wilder and darker than in the days gone by. PoorAnnie! the darkness and gloom were in thy weary, world-tossed heart. That heart beat wildly as she drew nearer the wished-for spot. What ifshe should see no light gleaming through the aperture in the rockywalls? What if the door should be fallen away, and no aunty there towelcome the wanderer's return? She quickened her pace, and a few momentsbanished all fears. The cottage came in view, and a bright lightstreamed through the rough-cut window. Now Annie clasped her hands, andthanked God that her journey was well-nigh ended. She saw her auntbending over the embers on the hearth, as she paused a moment on thethreshold. Then, entering softly, she stole to the side of the old lady, and, passing an arm round her neck, whispered in a low, trembling tone:"Here's Annie, come home to love and you, dear aunty. "

The old woman sprang so suddenly from her kneeling posture as nearly tothrow the slender form upon the floor, and gazed wildly in the speaker'sface. 

"Why aunty, don't you know me?"

"Bless me, it is her voice! but how could she rise up here on myhearth-stone to-night, like a witch or fairy?"

"No, aunty; I am no witch or fairy that has risen on your hearth. Iwalked all the way through the dim old forest to reach you, and it looksjust as it used to, only darker and more frightful. "

"Come here, darling, 'tis you! I know that voice. O how many times I'vedreamed I heard it in the long, lonesome nights!" and she wept, laughed, and kissed her recovered child in a perfect abandonment of joy. "And soyou have come home at last to see your old aunty? I've had awfulfeelings about you lately, hinney, and boding dreams; and ofttimes I'vebeen sorry I let you go into the evil world; 'for if it should use herhard, would it not break both our hearts?' I said to myself. 'But, then, Annie is so pretty and good, and has got so much book-learnin' and somany accomplishments, ' something would say. 'Ay, that's the mischief ofit. Such things always make bad folks envy those that possess them, andAnnie is so tender-hearted and shrinking, I'm afeard, I'm afeard forher. '"

Annie sunk her head on her aunt's shoulder while she was speaking thus, and the tears, she had been striving to suppress since her entrance, began to roll over her cheeks thick and fast. The excitement and anxietyof the journey had in a measure diverted her mind from the events whichcaused it; but now that she had gained the wished-for haven, her aunty'swords brought the past before her vision; that mortifyinghumiliation--all she had enjoyed, all she had hoped for, and O, all shehad lost!--rushed upon her recollection, and she sobbed aloud. 

"O, mercy, mercy, it is as I feared!" exclaimed the old woman, in anagonized tone; "something has hurt my darling, and now I mark how paleand thin she is grown. Annie, Annie, tell your aunty what's the matter. "

Annie made a strong effort to calm her emotion. 

"I am fatigued and overcome, " she said. 

"Ah! it is something more than that, child--I can tell; but you shallrest till to-morrow. I'll make you a nice cup of tea, and then you shalllie in your little cot-bed once more. I've always kept it dressed whiteand clean, and often been in there nights before I laid my old bonesdown to rest, and wished I could see my darling there, breathing longand sweet, as she used to, in happy dreams. "

Annie was glad to retire, for she was indeed fatigued. Her aunt tuckedthe counterpane snugly around her, and hung a shawl before the window, "for hinney looked too pale and slender to bear the cold air now, " shesaid. Then she insisted on sitting by the cot till her darling slept;but Annie begged she would not. 

"Go to bed, aunty, and get a good sleep, so as to be rested and fresh tohear a long tale of my adventures to-morrow, " and the kind old soul, after kissing the white brow, bade Annie good-night, and sought herpillow. 

It was long ere Annie slept, and when at last she did so, hideous shapesand direful omens floated through her dreams. Once she awoke, when allwas dark and still, to find a burning fever on her cheek, and dull, throbbing pain in her temples. At peep of dawn the old woman rose andstole into the apartment. She wanted to see her little pet sleeping inher cot-bed, as she used to years before. There she lay, her arms thrownabove her head as when a child, and the rich chestnut curls lying indark relief on the snowy pillow. But the deep, sweet respirations, andthe healthful glow of childhood were not there. A blue circle surroundedthe closed lids, and a fever-flush burned in the centre of each cheek. The aunt saw her darling was ill. She took one thin, hot hand in hers, and felt the pulse fluttering fast and wild. The sleeper woke andstarted up, turning her eyes quickly round the apartment. 

"Don't you know where you are, Annie?" asked the aunt. "This is your oldroom at Scraggiewood, and I'm your aunty. "

"O, yes! I remember now; but I think I'm sick, my poor head aches andthrobs so badly. You used to cure all my pains, aunty. "

"I hope I can cure you now, hinney. I'll go and prepare you a coolingdrink of herbs. You must be very quiet, and I trust you will be well ina few days. "

Annie submitted patiently. A week passed by ere she was able to make heraunt fully acquainted with her woful tale. The poor woman seemed as muchafflicted as Annie, but she strove by every means in her power to sootheand comfort the suffering heart. Netta Gray had been married to GeorgeWild a few weeks before her return, and was now absent on a visitingtour, and Annie's health continued feeble. It could hardly be otherwisewith a mind so heavy and depressed. For several months she remained inseclusion at the lowly cot in Scraggiewood. 

 CHAPTER XV. 

 "For the weak heart that vainly yearned For human love its life to cheer, Baffled and bleeding has returned, To stifle down its crying here. "

 * * *

 "Thou shalt go forth in prouder might And firmer strength e'er long. "

Up to the clear blue sky, when the sun was gone down on the silentearth, clad in the pure white snow-mantle, and away over the tops of theforest-pines, at the diamond stars hung in the far-off heaven, gazedAnnie Evalyn through that long, dreary winter, from the window of thatrude hut in the solitary depths of Scraggiewood. How she mourned o'erher shattered idols, all fallen and wasted on their shrines! What a blowhad been dealt her sensitive nature! "O, it was so bitter cruel!" shethought; "and what had she done that she should suffer thus?"

In vain her aunt tried to soothe and solace, by telling her time wouldbring better hopes. Parson Grey would sometimes drop in of a Saturdayevening to coax and encourage his former pupil, and bring some nicetit-bit to tempt Annie's delicate relish. 

"You will regain your health and spirits when the spring opens, mychild, " he would say. "Netta will come home, and we shall have you overto the Parsonage, and all will seem like old times again. Then you mustresume that pen of yours, Annie, and let it write down those speakingthoughts that lie in your inventive brain. You know my old doctrine; itis a glorious thing to do good, and you can exert a happy and extensiveinfluence upon society. I know you will not abuse the noble facultiesgiven you by the great Creator. "

"Ah, he does not know all!" Annie would think. "I once was vain enoughto suppose I possessed faculties and powers to act a brave part in life;but they've been bruised and broken in the very outset. I've no energy, no aspirations; because there's nothing in the future to beckon me on. Wherever I turn is desolation; and I despise my weakness as much as Ilament my misfortune. But I'll no more of a world that has dealt me mydeath-blow. Here, in this solitude of nature, let me die and sink tooblivion. "

Thus she ruminated, while the shadowy wintry days sped on; and reason, weak and powerless in the headlong tide of passion that swept and swayedin her breast, was buffeted and submerged in the furious waves; and yet, when the storm had spent its fury, should it not arise clear andbrilliant, and over the subsiding tumult be heard to utter a calm, proudjubilate of triumph and redemption?

Spring came at last. The snows disappeared; buds swelled on the talltrees, and burst forth into canopies of leafy-green, and the featheredsongsters came hieing from southern bowers, with wings of light andsongs of gladness. Annie began to brighten; slowly, and almostimperceptibly at first, and without her own knowledge or consent. Thosefaculties she had fancied killed were only stunned. 

When she found herself, one sunny April day, at her little, rude table, inditing her beautiful thoughts on paper, she grew angry at her folly, as she termed it, and tore the sheet. "And was she again seeking whathad once blasted her happiness? Let the desolation of the past deter herfrom all intercourse with the heartless world again. "

But the sunny gleams from the beauty-fraught robes of the spring-queenhad fallen on the chilled fountains, and they began to melt and flowagain. And their music _would_ be heard. As the brook down in the forestseemed to send sweeter, more joyous echoings on the ear after its wintersleep, so Annie's soul poured softer, holier strains of melody from itsdeep well-spring of chastened, purified feeling. Yet the struggle wasnot all over. Some tears, some regrets, some rebellious thoughts, yetlingered. The wildest storm oft passes the soonest by; but traces of itseffects may remain to the end of time. 

Netta returned from her travels, and the two friends, so long parted, sat together in the old study again, and with clasped hands poured outtheir hearts to each other. 

Annie could not avoid saying, "My life-happiness is wrecked, Netta!" asshe completed a rehearsal of her misfortunes, "O, that I had been lessconfident and aspiring! Then I had not suffered thus. "

"Do not speak thus, Annie!" returned Netta, tenderly. "Your happiness isnot lost. With a mind so brilliant as yours, you must not yield todespondency. I will do all in my power to render your life pleasant, andso will George. He says your influence made him all he is. You rebukedhis slothful habits and urged him to activity. He felt the truth of yourwords, though it wounded him deeply to have them come from you. I knowall, Annie. George loved you once, but I've forgiven him, and love youall the better for having made me so good a husband. " Here Netta laughedand kissed her friend's cheek. 

Annie returned the caress. "If I've unwittingly done you any good, Netta, " she said, "it is no greater pleasure to have done it than tohear it acknowledged so prettily. "

"But don't you think it very singular you have never received yourproperty from Dr. Prague?" asked Netta, turning the conversation back toher friend's affairs. "I should have thought it but common honesty inthem to have forwarded your clothes and wages. "

"O, why should they trouble themselves to give a thought to so vile andartful a wretch?" responded Annie, bitterly. 

"There, there, Annie, hush!" said Netta. "Vengeance will overtake themfor thus treating worth and innocence. And Sheldon, have you never heardfrom him?"

"Never!" answered Annie, and a tear fell as she spoke. 

"Not once!" said Netta. "He who could thus shamefully neglect one, solovely and beautiful, is not worthy of one precious drop from theseeyes. "

"And yet he seemed so noble and good, it is hard to cast blame on hisconduct. O, Netta, I cannot forget him!" she exclaimed, bursting intotears. 

Ah, the love was there yet!--a little chastened and subdued, yet wantingbut a kindly touch to rouse it to all its early strength and power. Abitter chastisement had tamed, but not conquered or expelled, the coytruant from her breast. Should it aye sleep on, or one day know anawakening?

 CHAPTER XVI. 

 "Go on, go on: you think me quite a fool; Woman, my eyes are open. "

In their sumptuous drawing-room, before a sparkling grate, sat Dr. Prague and his amiable lady, in genial after-dinner mood; he burly, andeasy-natured, enjoying his oranges; she, majestic and oratorical in herrustling brocades. 

"Doctor, " said she, after a brief silence, "I wish to call yourattention to an important subject. "

"Ah! what may it be?" he inquired, in a careless tone. 

"Why, our Catherine's approaching union with Mr. Sumpter. "

"Is the girl going to marry Sumpter? I don't like it, madam, I don'tlike it;" and the usually placid doctor displayed considerableimpatience in his tone and manner. 

"Why not? he is a wealthy, accomplished gentleman. "

"Humph! a conceited, tricksy villain, you mean. "

"Dr. Prague, is he not the friend and partner of my son-in-law, Esq. Hardin?"

"What of it?"

"Why, a good deal of it, I should say. Is not Esq. Hardin one of thefirst men in the city? I made the match between him and Marion, and I'mproud of the alliance. You cannot say that it was not a wise andjudicious one. "

"Whew! I don't know. Marion as melancholy as a mummy, and a child thatshrieks in terror whenever its father approaches. Perhaps a wise match, but far enough from a happy one, I should say. "

"The world calls it a nice match. "

"Indeed. "

At this point of the conversation Kate entered the room. 

"Come hither, child, " said her father; "do you love this Mr. Sumpter?"

"Why, no, father. I've never been able to conquer my aversion towardhim, since he vilified Annie's character, and caused her flight, " saidshe, wondering at her father's question. 

"Then you do not wish to marry him?"

"Heavens! no. "

"All right then. I'll see that you don't. Now run away, child. "

"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished at you, " exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in her mosttowering style, as the door closed after Kate, "thus to pamper to thefollies of your offspring. Young people never know what is for theirinterest. They should be held in perfect subjection to their parents'wishes, and taught to obey their slightest commands. "

"Very pretty, Mrs. Prague, " remarked the doctor, carelessly, as his wifepaused for breath. 

Whether he alluded to her logic or her face, we cannot say. 

"Had Sheldon been discreet and saved his fortune, " she resumed, "hewould have been the proper man for our Catherine. "

"But he blundered and fell in love with Annie Evalyn. "

"Faugh! don't mention that minx to me, " said Mrs. Prague, with a sneer;"but it must be confessed, Sheldon has very limited knowledge ofbusiness, or he might have saved a part of his fortune at least. Myson-in-law, Esq. Hardin, by his alacrity and far-seeing judgment, secured himself from material loss in the great land crash. "

"Humph! quite as likely by his cunning and artful machinations. "

"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished to hear you detract from the worth andhonesty of your son-in-law, even in our private conversation. "

"I may repeat here what I've of late heard broached in public places, that Hardin involved Sheldon in the speculations with the intention toeffect his ruin. "

"Such groundless insinuations are worthy their originators, " said Mrs. Prague, in an angry, vehement tone. 

"May be time will render us all wiser than we are now, madam. "

"I hope it will, " she answered, significantly, as with a lofty air sherose from the luxurious sofa, and remarked, "I will now go down toMarion's, and pass an hour in conversation with my son-in-law. "

"Do so, madam, " said the doctor, "and as you pass the office door, sendKate up here with my cigar-case, if you please. It lies on the tablethere. "

And the majestic Mrs. Dr. Prague rustled her brocades into the privateparlor of her daughter Marion, just as the latter was hushing theshrieks of a chubby little boy, who seemed nearly frantic with affright. 

"What is the matter of him, Marion?" asked she. 

"His father kissed him in his sleep and woke him. You know he alwaysscreams at sight of Lawrence. "

"Strange he should be afraid of his father; but he will doubtless getover it as he grows older. "

"I think it increases upon him. "

"Is not Lawrence at home?" inquired Mrs. Prague. 

"He is in the office with Mr. Sumpter, I believe, " was the reply. 

"Would you think it, Marion? Your father is opposed to our Catherine'smarrying Mr. Sumpter. "

"Indeed, I do not wonder. I do not consider him a proper person for anyyoung lady of taste and refinement to marry. "

"Why so? Lawrence extols him. "

"Does he?"

The child had grown quiet, and now slept in its mother's arms. As herson-in-law did not appear, Mrs. Prague soon retired. 

Hardin was having a stormy scene with Sumpter. The latter had of lategrown bold and impetuous. Admitted in confidence to all Hardin'snefarious schemes and plottings, he gained a power over the wicked man, and began to exercise it with arbitrary sway. He was a reckless, unprincipled gambler, and, having recently encountered heavy losses, came with a bold demand on Hardin's purse. 

"You are getting to use me shabbily, " he exclaimed, angrily; "with allSheldon's fortune tucked away in your pocket, to say nothing of--youknow what--you refuse me so small a favor as a cool thousand. Come, handover, or, by Heaven, I'll inform against you!"

"You can hardly do that, without marring your own good fame, " saidHardin, ironically; "and I know you would shrink from doing that. "

"None of your sneers, Hardin, " growled Sumpter, fiercely; "will you giveme the money?"

"No!" thundered Hardin, with an oath; "you shall not ride rough-shodover me in this way. Now begone from my sight!"

"Very well; good-evening, Esq. Hardin, " said Sumpter, with a savage, revengeful leer on his countenance, as he went out, slamming the doorspitefully behind him. 

Hardin was alarmed, after the wretch was gone, as he reflected how farhe was in the monster's power, and in what ruin he might involve him ifhe chose. 

 CHAPTER XVII. 

 "Now mark him in the tempest hour, Will he be calm, or will he quail Before the fury of its power? ----Read ye the tale. "

There are those that know not the extent of their powers till they arecalled forth and tasked to the utmost by trial and misfortune. Such anone was Frank Sheldon. Disposed to ease and quiet in the hour ofprosperity, when adversity came, it aroused him at once to vigorous, decisive action. Though bereft of love and fortune at a blow, as itwere, his manly spirit did not cower and sink beneath the strokes; thathe suffered is true, but he bore up bravely under the adverse fortune. He was proud, as all great minds are, and the blight so publicly cast onAnnie Evalyn's good repute, cut him to the quick; but he hoped she mightbe able to refute the aspersions cast on her by Sumpter, for he was lothto think ill of a being that had appeared so amiable and exalted in hernature, so lofty in soul and intellect, and was beautiful as an angel inperson. But, instead of this, she fled by night from the scene of herconfusion, leaving behind all her effects, and no clue to her intendedcourse. Did not this wear the appearance of guilt? Still he did notcondemn her, but learned from Dr. Prague the place of her formerresidence, and wrote a letter, assuring her of a continuance ofaffection, and asking an explanation of Sumpter's strange tale. Noanswer was returned, --indeed, the letter never reached its destination;but this Sheldon did not know, and was forced to regard the silence asanother proof of her cupidity. 

With this view of the matter he found it less difficult to subdue hispassion. He could not, _would_ not love a guilty, artful thing. 

And now fell another blow in quick succession; his land investmentproved worthless, and at a sweep his fortune went past power to recover. Hardin expressed much regret, but Sheldon could not avoid noticing thathe clutched at every opportunity to save his own affairs, and exposedhim to the most uncertain hazards. 

Old Dr. Prague loudly bewailed Sheldon's ill luck, and declared he wouldnever forgive himself for having advised the young man to embark in thecursed speculations. But Sheldon begged him not to be unnecessarilydistressed, as it was no fault of his that the schemes proved abortive;and the good doctor finally coincided, and settled down to his orangeswith tolerable serenity. 

Sheldon did not long remain inactive; he left those scenes amid whichmisfortune had overtaken him, and repaired to the eastern cities, wherehe readily found employ in an extensive printing establishment, andapplied himself assiduously to his duties. In a short time he wasadmitted to the firm, and became assistant editor of a popular magazine. This was an occupation congenial to his tastes, as it afforded him notonly an opportunity of writing, but of reading, and becoming intimatelyacquainted with the polite literature of the day. 

He was one day in the editorial sanctum, examining a quantity ofmanuscripts lately received, when one, in a clear, delicate female hand, attracted his eye. There was something in the light, fairy tracery whichinstantly riveted his attention. He read it through; "Woodland Winne, "was the signature, --a _nomme de plume_, of course. He wondered who couldbe the fair authoress of this beautiful production. 

While thus occupied in conjectures, a gentleman entered the apartment. 

"Here, Wilberforce, do you know this MS. ?" said Sheldon, holding ittoward him. 

"O, yes!" answered the gentleman, glancing it over; "beautiful hand, isit not?"

"Yes; but who is the writer?"

"O, I don't know that! I have had several communications from the samepen in the last three months, all exquisite in their style and diction, and eliciting warm commendation from the literary press. "

"And cannot you discover the fair unknown?"

"No, I have addressed her under her _nomme de plume_, and desired hertrue name remitted, in confidence, if she objected to publicity; but shehas never seen fit to gratify my curiosity. "

"Strange one so deserving should shun notoriety, " remarked Sheldon. 

"So it seems to me, " said Wilberforce, who was the senior editor; "but Icame in to call you to the Literary Association; it meets at threeo'clock. Come, let's be off, or we shall be too late;--these MSS. We canlook over to-morrow. "

They closed the office and went out in company. But Sheldon forgothimself several times in the debate, as a semblance of that delicatemanuscript, enwrit with those clear, sparkling fancies, rose oftenbefore his mental vision. 

There seemed to be a spell about it, to charm and lead captive hisimagination. 

 CHAPTER XVIII. 

 "The hour of vengeance strikes, --hark to the gale! As it bursts hollow through the rolling clouds. Such is the hand of Heaven!"

It came at length, swift, avenging justice; awful in might, and nonecould resist its angry hand. 

The "pestilence that walketh at noonday, " swept over the fair, youngcities of the west, and thousands fell victims to the remorselessdestroyer. 

O, Cholera! great be the name of him, who, from the mazes of scientificlore, shall call a power to rob thee of thy terrors, thou scourge ofmankind!

Lawrence Hardin returned from a southern trip to find his house leftdesolate; wife and child both in their hastily-covered graves. He shookwith agony, and scarce was the first frantic burst of grief subsided, ere the officers of justice entered his mansion and declared him theirprisoner. He glared at them wildly. 

"What mean you, " he asked, "by this untimely intrusion in the house ofdeath?"

"Prepare to accompany us to the court-room immediately, " was the answer, "to answer to a charge of swindling and forgery preferred by one JohnSumpter, who is also arrested and undergoing examination. "

Hardin grew ashy-pale at these words. 

"The villain!" he muttered; "so he has betrayed me. Carry me where youwill, Mr. Officer. Life is a curse to me henceforth. "

Thus speaking, he resigned himself passively to the custody of thesheriffs. They conducted him instantly to the court-house, and placedhim in the prisoner's box beside Sumpter, who cowered and moved away athis approach. Hardin threw a look of envenomed hatred on the wretch, andsat down. When the charges were read he merely bowed; and when askedwhat he had to plead, replied: "Nothing, only that they would hang himup as soon as convenient, and thus end his misery. " He was placed injail with Sumpter, and several other defaulters, to await a final trialat the autumn sessions. 

And the pestilence swept on; young and old, rich and poor, all fellbefore its blasting power. In the brief space of twenty-four hours, Dr. Prague was bereft of wife and children, and left a poor, lone man, inhis solitary mansion. Where should the mourner turn for consolation? Atthis crisis, he thought of his old friend, Parson Grey, and determinedto quit the city for a few weeks, till the epidemic should havesubsided, and make him a visit. He was just the calm, holy spirit heneeded to solace his afflictions; and accordingly a letter wasdespatched, which brought a speedy reply, sympathizing in his distress, and urgently inviting him to join them as soon as possible. 

He visited Hardin before departing, informed him of the death of all hisfamily, and kindly inquired if he could be of any service to theimprisoned man. 

"No!" was the answer; "and I don't know what you came here at all for. What do I care if your wife and brats _are_ dead? So is _my_ wife dead, and _my_ child, and I hope soon to be. The greatest favor you can bestowis to get out of my sight. "

The doctor gazed on the hardened wretch with pity, and turned away. Heleft the city in July, and the first of September the trials came on. The large court-house was densely thronged to hear the pleas anddecision in the case of the extensive forgeries and bank frauds ofHardin and Sumpter. There could be little doubt of the verdict, as theevidence against the parties was powerful and conclusive, and noneseemed so regardless of the issue as the prisoners themselves. Withhard, stoical faces, they confronted the jury, as they returned fromtheir deliberations and resumed their seats on the platform. 

Without, the elements were raging in their wildest, most terrific fury. Broad flashes of lightning at intervals illuminated the crowded hall, and glared on the sea of upturned human faces, marked with every varietyand shade of passion and feeling. The thunder roared and reverberatedthrough the heavens with tremendous crashings, as the judge arose, and, turning toward the jury, asked, in solemn accents, if they had agreedupon a verdict. 

They had. 

"Are the prisoners at the bar guilty, or not guilty?"

There came a blinding flash, followed by a deafening thunder-bolt, asthe foreman rose and pronounced the word, "_Guilty_. "

Smothered screams at this moment issued from various parts of theassembly. The building was struck and on fire. Terrible confusionensued. Frantic cries and shrieks mingled with the bellowings of thestorm without, rendering the scene awful beyond description. All rushedpell-mell for the street. The crackling flames burst through the broadwindows on the side of the judges' platform, rolling a dense volume ofsmoke and stifling heat into the interior of the building. In the wildexcitement and terror, the prisoners were forgotten. They stood in thebox where they had received sentence. The flames were rapidlyapproaching them. Sumpter turned a glance full of hatred and vengeanceon Hardin. "You swore revenge on Sheldon, " said he, "and I helped youaccomplish your iniquitous designs. You refused a paltry sum when Iasked it, and then I swore revenge on you, and this is the way I finishit. "

Hardin drew a revolver from his breast; "And this is the way I finishmine, " he said; and, taking aim, lodged a ball in the heart of Sumpter. Then, springing quick as lightning over the box, he rushed among thecrowd and gained the street. The intense darkness favored his flight, and, hurrying on, he gained the levees, secreted himself in the hold ofa boat, and had the good fortune to find himself floating down the riverin the morning. 

 CHAPTER XIX. 

 "Go forth, thou spirit proud and high, Upon thy soaring way; Plume all thy pinions for the sky, And sing a glorious lay. "

As the young sapling of the forest bends and sways in the fury of theblast, and, when it is passed, rises and shakes the weight of rain-dropsfrom its pliant boughs, and stands stronger, higher, more beautiful thanbefore, so Annie Evalyn, when the passion-storm had spent its fury, rosea purer, loftier being, with a heart firm and free, and a soul elevatedand sublime in its aspirations. There might be traces to tell thetempest had been a wild one; a paleness on the brow; the lips thinnedand slightly compressed; the eyelids sometimes drooping their longlashes over the dark, liquid eyes, and a tear stealing silently over themarble cheek; or a slight shudder for a moment convulsing the slenderframe, as if memory painted a picture the soul shrank from contemplating. Yet these light tokens of what _had_ been, heightened the sublime beautyof what was _now_. Annie was no longer a child in the world's lore ofexperience. Sorrow and suffering are swift teachers. They unfold andperfect the powers with astonishing rapidity. Annie Evalyn was a woman;with a quick eye and ready judgment to detect and discern the workingsof that great mystery, the human heart, yet simple and child-like in hermanners, as of old. 

"Bless it, but this is an agreeable surprise!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, asAnnie entered the little, rock-built cottage, on a clear, cool eveningin early autumn, with a bright smile beaming on her lovely features;"why, I didn't once think of your comin' to-night, hinney, bein' as youwere here last Saturday. But it does my old heart good to know youremember your poor, ignorant aunty, when you are among your littlescholars and so many kind friends at the Parsonage. "

"O, I never forget you, aunty!" said Annie, returning the old lady'sembrace; "this humble cot and these old Scraggiewood oaks are very dearto my heart. "

"I'm glad to hear it, dear; it is a homely spot, to be sure, but it hassheltered us well. But what is doing at the parson's, love? All well andhappy?"

"Yes, and Aunt Rachel sent you this little box of wax-candles. She saidyou loved to read evenings, sometimes, and these gave such a clear, steady light, it would do your old eyes good to behold it. "

"The dear, kind-hearted creature!" said Aunt Patty, receiving thepackage and brushing away a grateful tear. "Sure she is a perfectChristian if there is one on earth. "

"O, we have some news at the vicarage, aunty! The old gentleman, inwhose family I resided during my stay in the western country, has sent aletter to Parson Grey, narrating a sad tale of misfortunes, andexpressing a desire to visit him ere long. It seems the cholera has beencommitting frightful ravages through those sections, and his entirefamily have been swept away in the brief space of one week. And, O, aunty, I dread to go on!"

"Let me hear, child. "

"You recollect the man, Sumpter, who spoke those dreadful words in asocial company?"

"Yes, yes, didn't I have him here, in this very room, on a night longago--and Hardin too? Ay, dark, wicked schemes, and worse than those, showed in their cups. But go on, love. "

"Well, they have been arrested for forgery and found guilty. The sequelof the affair Mr. Grey received last evening, in an extra sent him byDr. Prague. It appears the verdict was rendered during a violent storm, which struck the court-house, and, in the confusion that followed, Hardin shot Sumpter and escaped. "

"O, shocking!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, with horror depicted on hercountenance. "Ay, God's vengeance is sure to overtake the wicked sooneror later. "

"We look for the arrival of Dr. Prague every day. How do you think hewill meet me, aunty?"

"How should he meet you, child, but with shame and confusion of face?"

"But he was always kind to me, aunty. "

"Well, he didn't do right never to send a letter to inquire after yourfate, or forward your clothes and wages. "

"He might have been prevented by his wife. I know she was a violentwoman and had ever a dislike to me. "

"Nothing should prevent a man from doing what is just and right, Annie, "said Aunt Patty, in an inflexible tone; "but it is like you to think thebest of people's failings, and I acknowledge it is a good way. Now, hinney, I'll make a dish of tea, and we'll have a brimming bowl ofCrummie's sweet milk, with some of your favorite berries. I'm so glad!It seems a Providence that I gathered some this mornin'. I'll slab upsome batter cakes; you know I'm pretty good at them; and just you lightone of Rachel's candles--though it is hardly dark yet, it will make thetable look so cheerful-like. "

Annie did as directed, and they soon sat down to the simple meal. AuntPatty's face was redolent with good-humor and cheerfulness, as shedished out the largest, ripest berries, and nicest browned cakes for herdarling. 

"Do you write your pretty stories and poetries for that city magazinenow, hinney?" she asked, as they discussed their meal. 

"Yes, aunty, and I have brought several numbers for your perusal. Istill want to be famous, aunty, though I once thought I didn't care foranything more in this world; but that was in a foolish time, and is pastby now. Mr. Grey says it is better to be good than great; but if one canbe both, why, better still, I fancy. And I know I feel happy when I'mteaching those poor little children to read and love each other, andgrow up to be blessings to their parents. This is doing good, Mr. Greysays; but this restless heart of mine is not filled, is not content. Itfeels there are other faculties, lying dormant and unemployed. Theeditors of this magazine have offered two prizes, --one for the besttale, the other for the best poem, --and I'm going to strive to win them. The money would make you very comfortable for life, aunty; and you havedone so much for me I want to repay some of your kindness if I can. "

"Dear heart!" said the old woman, tearfully, "what have I ever done foryou that is not already ten-fold repaid by seeing your bright eyes, andfeeling that you love your old aunty?"

"But I'm not wholly disinterested, aunty; don't you see I covet the famethat would follow should I succeed? That's for me; the money for you. Now kiss me good-night, and I'll to my cot to dream a subject for mylabor. "

"God bless and prosper you, my darling!" said the fond aunt. 

 CHAPTER XX. 

 "It was a face one loved to gaze upon, For calm serenity of thought was there. The eyes were soft and gentle in their glance, And looked with trusting artlessness in yours. Placid her mien, like that of lofty souls That after storm sink down in tranquil rest. "

Once more is winding on the spring-time of the year, and once more isAnnie Evalyn away from the old forest home. Her soft, bird-like tonesecho through the sumptuous drawing-rooms of Dr. Prague's statelymansion, in that fair western city. During his visit to the east thepreceding summer, he had succeeded in coaxing her away from Mr. Grey andher aunt, to pass a few months with him, and cheer and enliven hislonesome abode. 

"No one could do this so well as Annie, " he said, "always his pet anddarling; though his foolish, yielding old heart had been overruled byothers to treat her with wicked neglect, for which he now cursedhimself, and wanted opportunity to make amends. "

So Annie kissed them all round, and went with him to pass a few months. She had completed her prizes, and was now waiting to hear of theirreception. She had also contributed to the literary publications of thecity, and received a large share of flattery and applause; and, thoughwriting under a fictitious signature, her identity was well known inprivate circles. Sumpter's villany and disgraceful end had effectuallydestroyed his tale of her duplicity and artifice, and the highestclasses sought her friendship and society. The memory of former trialand suffering stole over her sometimes, as she mingled again 'mid thescenes of its enacting; but she was too wise and good to allow it torankle, or stir bitter feelings in her bosom. Let the past be forgottenin the felicity of the present. Heaven had visited devouring vengeanceon the guilty ones. Let her bow in silence and adore!

It was evening. Annie sat on a low ottoman at the side of the infirm, good-natured old Dr. Prague. A bright gas-light sparkled through awrought-glass shade above them, and a silver salver, containing somegolden oranges and pearl-handled knives, stood on a walnut stand nearby. A servant entered, bearing a package of papers. 

"Here they are, dear uncle!" exclaimed Annie, springing forward toreceive them from the waiter's hand. "Now our evening's amusement cancommence;" and she passed him the dish of fruit, twirled the light alittle higher, and, drawing a stool close to his side, said, "Now whatshall I read first? The price of stocks, the list of deaths----"

"No, little babbler, " said he, patting her curls playfully; "you knowwhat comes first of all. 'Woodland Winnie, ' of course. "

"Woodland Winnie is a silly little thing, " remarked Annie. 

"I'll be my own judge as to that, Miss Annie; please to read on. "

"O, here is something from 'Alastor!'" she said, turning over the pagesof a new eastern magazine. "I do so love his writings; please let meread this first, uncle. Do you know his real name?"

"No; but I sometimes fancy it may be my old ward, Frank Sheldon, as hehas always had a turn for writing, and is one of the editors of thisperiodical. "

"One of the editors of this magazine!" repeated Annie, in a quick, excited tone; "I never knew that before. "

"Why, I thought I told you last fall, at Parson Grey's, in some of ourtalks about former days. "

"No; you said he was employed in some printing establishment at theeast, that was all. "

"Well, I intended to have mentioned the rest; but what makes you look soearnest and rosy, Annie?"

"O, nothing!" she answered; "I was only thinking. "

"Frank has written to me, recently, a letter of sympathy and condolence, and says he will visit the west this summer, " the old man continued, paring an orange. "I was going to make him my sole heir, but now I'vefound you, I believe I shall curtail him and take you in for a share. "

"O, you had better not!" she exclaimed quickly. 

"And why better not, child?"

"Because he is more deserving your generosity than I. "

"More deserving? No, indeed, Annie. But see how nicely I have peeledthis orange for you, " passing it to her. 

"For me, uncle! You had better eat it yourself. "

"Why, what ails the girl? She won't even accept an orange from my hand. "

"Yes I will, uncle; but after you had prepared it so nicely, I thoughtyou ought to enjoy it yourself, " she answered, accepting the lusciousfruit. He gazed on her affectionately while she ate the juicy slices, with grateful relish, and when she had finished, said, "Now will Annieread to me awhile?"

"With the greatest pleasure, uncle, " she answered, returning to thepackage of books, from which she read till he was satisfied. 

"Your voice reminds me of those wild, bright birds I used to hearsinging in that old wilderness of Scraggiewood, when I called on a quietevening at that rocky cottage where you were nursed into being; a spotfit to adorn a fairy tale. No wonder you are such a pure-souled, imaginative creature, reared in that pristine solitude of nature. Nowyou may retire, darling, and don't fail to be down in the morning topour the old man's coffee, because it is never so sweet as when comingfrom Annie's little hands. " Thus speaking, he bestowed a fatherly kissupon her soft cheek, and she glided away to her own apartment. A longtime on her downy couch she lay gazing on the moonbeams that glintedover the rich flowers of the Persian carpet, while crowding thoughts andfancies thronged upon her brain. Most prominent were those of Sheldon, and his connection with the magazine for which she had written herprizes. Amid wonderings and fancyings she fell asleep, to follow them upin dreams, with every variation of hue and coloring. She was roamingthrough the gravelled avenues of an extensive flower-garden, when arainbow of surpassing brilliancy spanned a circle in the air above her, and wherever she turned her steps, it followed, hovering just above herhead; and the delicate colors seemed to strike a warm, heart-thrillingjoy down to the inmost recesses of her soul. She woke, with a delicioussense of happiness, to find the morning sun throwing his golden beamsinto her apartment. 

 CHAPTER XXI. 

 "And I did love thee, when so oft we met In the sweet evenings of that summer-time, Whose pleasant memory lingers with me yet, As the remembrance of a better clime Might haunt a fallen angel. And O, thou-- Thou who didst turn away and seek to bind Thy heart from breaking--thou hast felt e'er now A heart like thine o'ermastereth the mind; Affection's power is stronger than thy will. Ah, thou didst love me, and thou lovst me still!"

Annie's foot was on the stairs to descend to the drawing-room, on thefollowing evening, when she heard the old doctor's voice in the hall, exclaiming, in tones of loud, hearty welcome, "Why, bless my eyes! Frank Sheldon, my boy, do I behold you at last? Andto come upon me in this unexpected manner! I've a mind to throw thisorange at your head. "

"Do so, sir, if you choose; but first hear my apology for thisunceremonious surprise. Business brought me----"

"I won't hear a word about an apology, " interrupted the doctor, bestowing a hearty slap on his young friend's shoulder. "Come in, boy, come in;" and the doors of the drawing-room opened and closed afterthem. 

Annie ran back to her apartment in a flutter of emotion. "Sheldon there!and he came from _that office_! Business brought him, --what would comeof it all?" She dared not hope or anticipate. She dared not think atall; and, throwing her graceful form on a sofa, she commenced tearingsome water-color paintings she had lately been executing, into strips, and twisting them into gas-lighters. 

Meantime Sheldon was snugly bestowed in a cushioned seat beside his goodfriend, the doctor, who was plying him with a thousand questionsconcerning his affairs, prospects, etc. After he had become satisfied onthese points, he recollected Sheldon had mentioned some business as thecause of his sudden visit. 

"What was it you said about business bringing you so unexpectedly?" heinquired. "So, I would not have enjoyed this pleasure had inclinationalone biased your feelings!"

"You wrong me, sir, " returned Sheldon, "by such an insinuation. I wouldhave visited you in the summer, in any event. I merely intended to saybusiness hurried my arrival. Our magazine, several months ago, issued aset of prizes for the best poem and tale. The articles have beenreceived, and I commissioned to award the authoress, who, it appears, isa resident of your city. "

"Indeed!" said the doctor. "Then we've a literary genius among us. Whatis her name?"

"She writes under a _nomme de plume_. "

"And what is that?"

"Woodland Winnie. "

The good doctor sprang to his feet with such remarkable quickness as tooverturn the tray of oranges on the stand beside him, and they wentrolling over the carpet in all directions, while he clapped his handsand roared again and again with convulsing laughter. Sheldon wasdumb-founded. 

"Good!" exclaimed the doctor, in a tone of gleeful chuckling. "Ha, ha, ha! I declare I shall die a laughing. So cunning, the witch, --never totell me!"

"Do you know the lady?" asked Sheldon in amaze, gazing on his friend'sextravagant demonstrations of mirth and joy. 

"Better and better!" roared the doctor. "Do I know her? Yes; she hasbeen an inmate of my mansion for the last _six_ months. Why, boy, she isan angel;--as gifted, as beautiful, and as good as all the beauty andgenius put together. She has warmed my old heart and filled my housewith sunshine. "

"You will do me a great favor to introduce your humble servant to thisparagon of excellence. "

"Exactly! I'll do it all in good time; but take another orange, man!" hesaid, extending the empty tray to Sheldon. "Zounds! where are theygone?" he exclaimed, perceiving the dish to be vacant. "Have I eatenthem all?"

Sheldon could not forbear laughing now, as he informed the doctor of hisaccident, which called forth another burst of merriment. 

"Well, you want to see this lady?" he said, when it had subsided. "I'llbring her to you in a jiffy;" and the gleeful doctor departed on hiserrand. 

Sheldon paced the floor uneasily during his absence; but he was not keptlong in waiting. He soon heard steps descending the stairs and, whirlinga chair so as to give him but a side view of the entrance, sat down toawait their coming. The doors slid open, and he became aware of a light, graceful figure, in a dark, crimson robe, leaning on the doctor's arm, and approaching with fairy-like steps. The setting sun was throwing aflood of radiance through the heavy folds of purple damask, and fillingthe apartment with soft, dreamy light as they paused before him. 

"I have the pleasure of presenting to you 'Woodland Winnie, ' Mr. Sheldon, " said the doctor. 

Sheldon raised his dark eyes slowly to the lady's face, and there, inthe genial light of that mild spring evening, stood Annie Evalyn. Hestarted as if an electric shock had shot through his frame. She trembledand blushed, and the old doctor roared and shook with laughter atSheldon's speechless surprise; but the latter soon recovered himself andgreeted Annie with respectful cordiality, offering an apology for hissurprise, by saying he was not prepared to behold a former acquaintancein the fair authoress. She returned his salutations with grace and ease, while the doctor continued to laugh immoderately. So pleased was the oldgentleman with the part he had enacted in the scene, that he actuallyconsumed twelve oranges, and despatched a servant for a fresh supply. Sheldon could not avoid stealing a glance at Annie as she sat on thesofa before him. The dark chestnut curls were lifted away from theexpanding temples, and the delicate marble complexion, relieved by ajust perceptible tinge of rose on either cheek; while the beautifullyimaginative expression of the full blue eye, the curved lip and nostrilspeaking the free, dauntless spirit, and the exquisite contour of thelight, graceful figure, yet somewhat taller and thinner than when he hadlast seen her, all conspired to assure him it was no timid, shrinkinggirl he beheld, but the lofty, talented, accomplished woman. Back camethe old love and admiration ten-fold stronger than ever. The doctor wentout to look after his oranges. There was a silence. It was growingoppressive. He rose and approached the sofa. 

"I have erred, Annie, " he said, in a low, mellow tone, fraught with deepsorrow and contrition. 

"We are human, Frank, " she answered, very softly. 

It was not the words, but the tone, the manner, that convinced him hewas forgiven. He sat down beside her, and there, in the deepeningtwilight of that spring evening, what a holy happiness was rising overthe ruins of wickedness and crime! Who shall say how much holier, purer, and more elevated for the trying ordeal to which it had been subjected?

 CHAPTER XXII. 

 "To all and each a fair good-night, And rosy dreams and slumbers bright. "

We are winding to a close. In the delicious coolness of a summerevening, Aunt Patty sat upon her lowly stile, her head drooped pensivelyon her withered hand, as if absorbed in deep meditation. The sound ofapproaching footsteps aroused her, and directly a light form was at herside, while a soft voice whispered in her ear: "You are thinking of onefrom whom I bring tidings. "

It was Netta Wild, accompanied by her husband, who carried a smallpackage in his hand. 

"Ay, yes! true, Netta, I was thinking of Annie, " said the old woman, rising, and beckoning them to enter, while she bustled about and lighteda candle. "So you have brought me news of her?" she continued. "I alwaysknow when I'm going to hear from hinny, for I'm thinking and dreamingabout her all the time for three or four days before the tidings come. "

"You should have had bright visions of late, Aunt Patty, if they are totally with the truth, " said Netta. "Annie has won the prizes. "

"Has she? Do tell!" exclaimed the old woman, her face glowing withpleasure. 

"Yes, and here are the magazines containing the articles, " answeredNetta, untying the package; "but this is the smallest part of her goodfortune; there's better news yet to be imparted, Aunt Patty. Sit downhere close beside me while I read this letter, --it is for both of us, she says. "

Aunt Patty hitched her chair close up, remarking, as she did so, that"the best news she could hear of hinny was, that she was coming back toher old aunty. "

"Well, she is coming back, " said Netta, "but not alone; in brief; she ismarried, Aunt Patty. "

"O dear! O dear!" groaned the old lady in agony; "I have lost herforever, my darling, darling Annie!"

"No you haven't, " said Netta; "for she says it was in the bargain thatshe should never go from her dear old aunty while she lived, but alwaysbe near to cheer and console her declining years. "

"O, the hinny love!" said Aunt Patty, brightening at these words. 

"And she describes her meeting with Sheldon (for he is the bridegroom);of his being one of the editors of the magazine for which her prizeswere written; of his surprise at finding to whom he was awarding them, and the explanation, and awakening of the old love, which quicklyfollowed. "

"We are married, Netta, " she writes, "and are all bound eastward, assoon as Dr. Prague can close up his affairs in this city, as he proposesto accompany us, and spend the remainder of his days near your kindfather. He says he has no ties to bind him to the western country. Youwill take this package, containing my prizes, to aunty, and read thisletter to her. Tell her she must use the note enclosed to buy her asmart new dress, and get you to make her a high-crowned cap with anextra pinch in the border, in which to receive her Annie's husband. "

The old woman laughed and cried by turns, and said, "'Twas not much useto rig up such an old, withered thing as she was; but then she would doall as hinny wished. "

George and Netta stopped awhile to chat upon the expected arrival. Nettasaid, "The young couple could live in the beautiful stone mansion Georgehad just completed, and which was now wanting a family. It was built inGothic style, and most romantically situated, only a little distancefrom the Parsonage, in a delightful grove of maples and elms. She hadbeen wondering who would occupy it, but never dreamed it might be Annieand her noble husband. "

Thus they talked and planned; Aunt Patty all the while half wild withexcitement and expectation. At length they took leave, Netta promisingto come next day, and assist in making the new dress and smart cap. 

 * * *

Onward they came, on the wings of the flying steam-steed. Onward theycame, a happy trio; the good old doctor, boisterous in his glee andsatisfaction, looking first on Annie, then on Sheldon, and burstingagain and again into peals of exuberant laughter; so wonderfully pleasedwas he with the success of his first attempt at match-making; for heappropriated to himself the whole glory of cementing the union betweenhis two favorites. The only thing that caused anxiety or solicitudeduring their journey was a fear lest the good old gentleman, in his wildabandonment of joy, should forget himself, and eat so many oranges as toendanger his precious existence. But, happily, their fears provedimaginary. No such catastrophe occurred to mar their felicity, and thelittle party safely reached the hospitable mansion of Parson Grey, andwere received with every demonstration of joy and welcome by theexpectant inmates. Aunt Rachel was in her highest cap, and sooncommenced preparations for the bridal supper, on which she had expendedher utmost, and expected to derive much commendation therefrom; but now, Annie, little whimsie! overturned all her hopes at once. She had set herheart on eating her bridal supper with Aunt Patty at the rock cottage inScraggiewood, and Sheldon declared it _his_ wish too. 

Parson Grey was of opinion the young couple should be left to act theirown pleasure in the matter, and all finally coincided; Aunt Rachel withsome disappointed looks, that Aunt Patty's oaten cakes should gain thepreference to her rich, frosted loaves; but she reflected that hersumptuous banquet could be displayed and partaken of some other day; andso she smoothed her brow and joined the rest in wishing Frank and Anniea pleasant walk to Scraggiewood. 

As evening closed in, the happy couple, arm in arm, and unattended, tooktheir way over the rough forest path. Annie had so much to tell of herearly years passed there, and he was so intent on listening, that theywere close upon the cottage, ere they seemed to have passed over onehalf the distance. 

"What a wild, weird spot!" he exclaimed. "No wonder you have suchglorious fancies, love. "

Annie motioned him to be silent; she had caught a glimpse of her auntsitting in the porch. 

"Come quick, " she said, and in a moment they stood before the startledold lady. Annie flung her arm over her neck and said: "Here's Annie andher husband come to Scraggiewood to take their bridal supper with theirdear aunty. "

The old lady returned her darling's embrace warmly, but looked ratherabashed and disconcerted at beholding so fine a gentleman; but when headvanced and shook her heartily by the hand, expressing in eloquentwords his gratitude to her for rearing so bright a flower to bless hislife, she gradually regained her composure; and with the young coupleroaming round the hut, out under the trees, and away into the woods inthe clear moonlight to search up Crummie, for Annie said, "Frank mustbecome acquainted with all her friends, "--the joyful dame set aboutpreparing a repast. She managed to get on her new gown and cap whilethey were out, for their sudden arrival had surprised her in herhomespun garb. Annie noticed the change soon as they were seated at thetable, and, though Aunt Patty thought she needn't, remarked upon it atonce. 

"When did you find time to make that fine toilet, aunty?" she asked in aroguish tone. 

But Aunt Patty turned the point well. "Why, dear, seeing you were soparticular in your letter that I should spruce up to receive you andyour husband, I thought I could do no less than respect your wishes. "

"Ha! ha!" laughed Sheldon; "you are well answered for your pleasantry, Annie. "

Thus they discussed their simple meal with mirth and good-humor. AuntPatty's batter cakes seemed to have received an extra fine touch, andthe cream and butter were such as a king might relish, Sheldon declared. 

When the meal was over they sat down on the stile, Aunt Patty, atAnnie's request, drawing her chair close beside them. Then they talked, and told her how much they anticipated living in the great mansion sonear to Parson Grey; and they would come every week to see her; and ahundred other fine plans Annie formed, laying her head all the while onher husband's arm, as he twined wild flowers among her dark curls, andlaughed at her lively sallies. Aunt Patty declared 'twas a sight angelsmight envy, their love and happiness. 

The moon rose high above the tall forest trees, casting a mild, holyradiance over the scene. And thus we leave them;--and thus wesay--"Good-night to Scraggiewood!"

 ALICE ORVILLE;

 OR, LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST. 

 CHAPTER I. 

 "Adown the lovely waters, Behold the vessel glide, While beauty's fairest daughters Gaze on the laughing tide. "

 "She sought no notice, therefore gained it all, As thus she stood apart from all the throng Of heartless ones that passed before her eyes. "

The Mississippi--river of majestic beauties--with the green, delightfulshores, elegant plantations, and dense forests of tall cotton-wood anddark, funereal cypress, overhung with the parasitical moss, glidingpanorama-like before the enraptured vision! How proudly the mightysteam-boats cut the turbid water, bearing the wealth and merchandise ofthose productive lands to the numerous towns and cities that adorn thebanks of the majestic river!

It was a lovely night in early June, and the guards of that queenliestof all queenly boats, the "Eclipse, " were thronged with ladies andgentlemen just risen from their evening banquet in the sumptuousdining-saloon. They were passing Baton Rouge, and many an exclamation ofdelight was uttered, not only in admiration of the lovely scenery aroundthem, but that they were so happily near the terminus of a journey, which, despite the splendid appointments of the boat, was fraught withdanger, and occasioned more or less uneasiness and anxiety in the bosomsof all the passengers. 

Apart from the crowd, leaning over the balustrade, her dark eyes rivetedon the lovely prospect passing before her vision, stood a young girl ofperhaps fifteen summers. Her form was slight, and a profusion of black, wavy ringlets floated over her small shoulders, while in all hermovements was visible that singularly beautiful grace of motion, ever soattractive, and which is noticed only in very finely-constitutedorganizations. She stood apart from the hilarious groups around her, evidently

 "In a shade of thoughts that were not their thoughts. "

Her simple grace and self-possession, and the indifference manifested tothe flattering attentions bestowed upon her by the gentlemen during thevoyage, had rendered her an object of peculiar interest with them, andprovoked no small amount of envy and invidious remark from the weakersex. 

"Look there, " remarked a freckled-faced lady in blue and yellow, to acounterpart in red and green; "see Miss Pink o' Propriety, as thecaptain calls her, standing out there alone, to attract some gentleman'snotice. "

"Of course, " returned miss red and green, sneeringly. "I hate that girl, she puts on such airs. And travelling alone, in charge of the captainand clerk, shows what she is plainly. There, look! The bait hastaken, --Mr. Gilbert is caught!" and the rainbow ladies joined in a loudlaugh, as a fine-looking gentleman approached the fair, abstracted girl, and accosted her. 

"Always flying your crowd of admirers, " said he, "and hiding in some slynook. Please tell me some of your pretty thoughts, as we glide past thislovely scenery, Miss Orville. "

"The recital of my poor thoughts would not repay you for listening, "said the young lady, with a pleasant smile. 

"Now I may consider myself dismissed, I suppose, " remarked thegentleman; "but if you don't tolerate me, you'll have to some other ofmy sex; for naught so charms us contradictory human bipeds asindifference to our gracious attentions, and we always pay our mostassiduous court where it receives the smallest consideration. "

"Well, if you choose to remain and entertain me with your company--"commenced the fair girl. 

"I can do so, but you prefer to be alone, " interrupted the young man;"is not that what you would say?"

"As you have been pleased to give expression to my unexpressed thoughts, I'll abide by your decision, " she remarked quietly. 

The gentleman bade her good-evening, and walked away, looking somewhatchagrined by his easy dismissal. On the fore-deck he found the clerk ofthe boat. 

"I've just come from Miss Orville, " he said, falling into step with thelatter. "You are a lucky fellow, Mr. Clerk, to have such a lovely beingentrusted to your care. "

"She is a sweet young lady, indeed, " said the clerk. "I was nevertrusted with a charge in which I felt more interest. "

"No wonder. Half the gentlemen on the boat are in love with her, and sheis so mercilessly indifferent to all their blandishments! Yet she is ofan age to love flattery and adulation. "

"She appears like one whose heart is preöccupied, " remarked the clerk. 

"But she is too young for that to be the case, I would suppose. "

"Love is restricted to no particular age. "

"She is from the north, too, and the maidens of those cold climes areless susceptible to the influence of the tender passion than thedaughters of our sunny shores, " pursued Gilbert. 

"Less susceptible it may be, " answered the clerk, "but once enkindled, the flame seldom flickers or grows dim. Northern hearts are slow to wakeand hard to change. I was raised in Yankee land, Gilbert, and shouldknow something of Yankee girls. "

"True, true; but where do you say this young lady is going?"

"To New Orleans. "

"And do you know where she will stop in the city?"

"At the residence of her uncle, Esq. Camford. "

"Possible? I know that family well. "

"Indeed, " remarked the clerk; "then you may have an opportunity topursue your acquaintance with Miss Orville, in whom you seem to feelmore than ordinary interest. "

"Why, yes, " said Gilbert, "I believe I'm in love with her at present;but then I don't make so serious a matter of a heart affair as many do. "

Gilbert was a wealthy southern planter, of rather easy, dissolutehabits, yet possessed of some redeeming points. 

"With good luck we shall hail the Crescent City to-morrow, " remarked theclerk, at length, as he stood regarding the speed of the boat withadmiring gaze. 

"Say you so?" exclaimed Gilbert. "I must have a last game of euchreto-night, then;" and he hurried into the saloon to make up a party. 

"Hilloa, Reams!" said he to a foppish-looking fellow, lying at length ona rosewood sofa, intent on the pages of a yellow-covered volume which heheld above his perfumed head; "come, have done with 'Ten Thousand aYear, ' and let us have a last game of cards. We shall be in New Orleansto-morrow, so here's our last chance on _la belle_ Eclipse. "

"O, give over your game!" yawned the indolent Reams. "I'm betteremployed, as you see. "

"No!" returned Gilbert, "I'll not give over; if you won't play, I canfind enough that will. You are a cowardly chap, Reams; because you losta few picayunes last night, you are afraid to try your luck again. Where's that young fellow, Morris?"

"What, the handsome lad from old Tennessee?" said Reams, languidlypassing his taper fingers through his lavender-moistened locks; "he willnever hear of any cards save wedding ones tied with white satin, for hehas been for the last half hour on the guards in earnest conversationwith that pretty Miss Orville. "

"The deuce he has!" exclaimed Gilbert with a blank expression, as hewalked away with a hasty step, leaving Reams to adjust himself to hisbook again. He soon collected a group of card-players and sat down tohis game; while young Wayland Morris and sweet Alice Orville promenadedthe hurricane deck, and admired the beautiful scenery through which theywere gliding, from the lofty pilot-house, conversing with the ease andfreedom of old acquaintances; for thus ever do kindred souls recognizeand flow into each other wherever they chance to meet in this fair worldof ours. 

 CHAPTER II. 

 "My mistress hath most trembling nerves; The buzz of a musquito doth alarm her so, She straightway falleth into frightful fits. "

It was the dinner hour at the splendid mansion of Esq. Camford, thesilver service duly laid on the marble dining-table, the heavy curtainsdrooped before the broad, oriel windows, and an odor of orange flowerspervading the apartment as the light breeze lifted their silken folds. Colored servants, in snowy jackets and aprons, stood erect and prim intheir respective places, awaiting the entrance of their master's familyand guests. At length there was a bustle in the hall, and a loud, burlyvoice heard exclaiming, "Here, Thisbe, you black wench, run and tell your mistress to come intothe drawing-room in all haste. Here's an arrival; her niece, MissOrville, just in on the Eclipse. I was down on the levee, to see to theconsignment of my freight, and run afoul of her. Run, you nigger, andtell her to come here quick. "

"Yes, massa, " and off patted the woman to impart the summons, whileAlice stood indeterminate on her uncle's threshold. 

The servant plodded up a long pair of stairs, and tapped thrice at thedoor of an apartment, e'er she was bid in a peevish voice to "come alongin, and not stand there foolin'. " The woman entered timidly. 

"What do you want with me?" snarled the fine lady from the depths of acushioned chair, her white fingers playing with a richly-wrought Spanishfan. 

"Massa says come down in the drawin'-room to see a nice young lady, MissOrful, or some sich name, what's just come on the 'Clipse, that signedaway all massa's freight, " said the woman with a profound courtesy. 

"What gibberish is this?" said the lady, in fretful humor; "go and tellyour master to come here this moment. I declare, my nerves are alla-tremble, and my life is worried out of me by these stupid niggers. Getout of my sight, and do my bidding!"

The servant disappeared instanter through the door. 

"Where is your mistress?" bawled Esq. Camford, when she reäppeared inthe hall. 

"She says you must come to her this minute, for she is e'en-amostnervousy to death, " answered poor Thisbe, in a shaking voice. 

"Come to her? Thunder and Mars! didn't you tell her her niece was herewaiting a welcome?"

"Yes, massa. I tell her there was a nice young lady here, what come onde 'Clipse. "

"O, Lord! these fidgety women!" exclaimed Esq. Camford, impatiently. "Ihope you are not one of the sort, are you, Miss Orville? But come intothe parlor here, while I go up and rouse your aunt. "

"I hope, if she is sick, you will not disturb her on my account, " saidAlice, somewhat alarmed at the commotion her arrival had occasioned. 

"Thunder! she is not sick, I'll wager; that is, no sicker than she deemsit necessary to be to produce an effect. I'm anxious you should beholdyour cousins, --four in all; three youngest at school. They'll be home atdinner, and it is already past the usual hour. Thunder! is dinner ready, Thisbe?"

"Yes, massa, and a waitin' mighty long time too. "

"Well, as I was saying, you must see your cousins, Jack, Josephine andSusette. Our oldest daughter is over to Mobile for a few weeks. Pheny isabout your age, and you'll be great friends, no doubt; that is, if youcan romp and flop about pretty smart; but I must go for your aunt. "

Here an exclamation of "Mercy, mercy!" called the esquire's attention, and he beheld his amiable consort sinking aghast, with uplifted hands ona sofa in the hall. "Law, Nabby, what's the matter now?" said he, goingtoward her leisurely enough, as though he were accustomed to suchscenes. 

"O, Adolphus Camford! what wench is that you have been sitting beside onmy embroidered ottoman? Answer me quick, for the love of Heaven! I willnot say for the love you bear me, as it is evident by your conduct thatyou have ceased to regard me with a spice of affection, " exclaimed thefair lady, in a tone of trembling excitement. 

"Good, now, Nabby, good! A scene enacted on the arrival of our littleup-country cousin, Ally Orville;" and the esquire roared with laughter. Alice heard all, and wondered what she had come among. 

The lady, nothing appeased by this explanation, as soon as she had takenbreath, burst forth again. "And you dared take the girl, in her dirty, disordered travelling garb, into the drawing-room! Adolphus Camford, I'mhorrified beyond expression! Here, Thisbe, run and bundle the thing offto her room before any one sees her. And to come just at our fashionabledinner-hour too!"

"Fuss and feathers, is that the child's fault? She came when the boatdid, of course. I was down there after my freight, and found her; sheseemed a mighty favorite with all on board, I assure you, and a handsomeyoung fellow rode up in the carriage with us, to mark her residence, that he might call on her. "

"Yes, and our house will be overrun by hoosiers, and all sorts ofgawkins, no doubt. But take this girl out of sight, Thisbe. You cancarry some dinner to her room if she wishes any. "

"Thunder and Mars! She is your own brother's child; ain't you going tolet her come to the table with the family?"

"Perhaps so, at a proper time. When I have seen her, and consideredwhether she is a suitable personage for my jewel daughters to have for acompanion. "

"Why, didn't she come here more by your invitation than mine? for shewas well enough off at home, but, because she was the only child of yourdeceased brother, you wanted to do something for her, and so sent forher to come here, and finish her education at your expense, where shecould receive more fashionable polish than in a country town, away up inOhio; and as to her looks, just step into the parlor and see foryourself. "

"O, where is she?" he exclaimed, finding the room vacant in which Alicehad been seated a few moments before. 

"I sent Thisbe to take her off, " replied Mrs. Camford; "here are thechildren; my brilliant son, my jewel daughters. I declare my nerves areso shaken I feel quite incapacitated to preside at the dinner-table. "

"Pshaw, Nabby, " said the blunt husband, "come along. I'll risk you todespatch your usual quantity of lobster salad and roasted steak. "

"Adolphus, you shock me, " faltered the delicate little lady, of a goodtwo hundred pounds' weight, as she hung to her lord's stalwart arm andentered the dining saloon. 

"My darling children, assume your seats at table. Billy and Cato, unfoldtheir napkins. Adolphus, you see we have chops for dinner. "

Delivering herself of this flowery speech, the lady sank exhausted intothe high-backed chair that was held in readiness by the officiouswaiter, and was shoved up to her proper place, the head of her sumptuoustable. 

The meal proceeded in silence, and all, even the delicate lady, didample justice to the chops, the entrées, and nicely-prepared sidedishes, as well as to the elegant dessert that followed in course. 

 CHAPTER III. 

 "She wound around her fingers Her locks of jetty hair; And brought them into graceful curl About her forehead fair. "

Alice remained closeted in her little room, eating but a morsel of thedinner brought her by Thisbe, till night-fall, when the woman againappeared, and said, "Mistress says, if Miss Alice has made herself presentable, she canattend her in the family sitting-room in half an hour. "

Alice bowed to this message, and said she would be pleased to meet heraunt and cousins at the time specified. The woman paused a moment, andthen asked timidly, "Would not Miss Alice like a waitin'-maid sent to 'sist her indressin'?"

"No, thank you, " returned Alice, smiling. "I am accustomed to wait onmyself. "

The woman opened wide her shiny eyes, and exclaiming, "Massy! who everheard the like?" retired with a courtesy. 

Alice laughed quite heartily after she was gone. "The idea of a blackgirl to help me put on a plain muslin frock, and twist my ringlets intoa little smoother curl!" said she. "I could array myself to meet a queenin ten minutes. "

Thus speaking, she took from her trunk a snowy India muslin frock. Itfastened low over her finely-formed shoulders, and a chain of red coralround her neck, with bracelets of the same material on her delicatewrists, completed her toilet. With her own rare grace of motion, sheglided down the hall stairs, and into the presence of her aunt, who rosefrom the soft-cushioned chair in which she had been reclining, with anexpression half terror, half anger, distorting her features. 

"Mercy, mercy! Another trial to my weak nerves!" she exclaimed. "Thisbe, my nerve-reviver instantly!"

The servant flew from the room, and returned with a small, silver-headedvial, which the lady applied to her nostrils, and soon grew calm. 

Alice stood all the while dismayed at the confusion her sudden entrancehad occasioned, and the three cousins, perched on cushioned stools, gazed on her with curious eyes. The aunt at length got sufficientlyrevived to speak. 

"Now, Miss Orville, my long-since-departed brother's only child, advanceto embrace your affectionate aunt!"

Alice came forward with a gentle, inimitable grace, and, extending herhand, said, "How do you do, aunt? I am sorry to have made you so ill. "

"That is right, Miss Orville! you should be so. My nerves are delicate;the least disturbance sets them all a tremble, and no one understands mynerves; no one appreciates my nerves. Now I will present you to yourcousins. I call my daughters my three jewels. The eldest, and belle andbeauty, as we call her, is not at home, being in the city of Mobile atpresent. Her name is Isadora Gabriella Celestina Camford. You willbehold her in due time, I trust. My second child is a son. I call him mybrilliant among my jewels. Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford comeforward to greet Miss Alice Orville. "

The lad thus called on, rose, stretched himself, and coming up to Alicesaid, "How d'ye do, cous. ?"

The young girl received his extended hand kindly, and, after gazing forthe space of a full minute straight in her face, he resumed his seat. 

"Very well done, my brilliant son!" said the mother. "Next in ordercomes my second jewel. Now Dulcinea Ophelia Ambrosia Josephine, myadored remembrance of Don Quixote, Shakspeare, the Naiads, and themighty Napoleon, advance to greet your cousin!"

And this living remembrance of the immortal dead sprang from her stool, and, running to Alice, threw both arms round her neck, and, kissing heron either cheek, exclaimed, "O, Cousin Alice! I'm glad you are come, fornow I shall have some one good-natured enough to talk to and go toschool with every day; for, by your pretty, angel-face, I know you are asweet-tempered thing. "

During this volubly-uttered harangue, the mother was making helplessgestures to Thisbe for the nerve-reviver; but the graceless wench neverheeded one of them, so intently was she gazing with distended eyes andgaping mouth on Miss Pheny's somewhat boisterous, but reallywarm-hearted greeting of her Cousin Alice. Pheny was a universalfavorite among the servants, "for that she was a smilin', good-naturedyoung lady, and not a bit nervousy, " as they declared. 

At length poor Mrs. Camford uttered a faint cry, which called Thisbe'sattention back to the spot from whence it never should havestrayed, --her mistress' cushioned chair, --and she rushed in a sort offrenzy for the nerve-reviver, and applied it to the trembling lady'snostrils; whereupon that delicately-constituted specimen of the genusfeminine uttered a stentorian shriek and flounced about the room like anirate porcupine, greatly to the terror of Alice, who had never witnessedsuch a scene before. But neither the brilliant son nor jewel daughtersseemed in the least alarmed, and in a few moments the mother regainedpossession of her chair and senses, when her first act of sanity was tohurl the bottle Thisbe had applied to her nostrils at the poor woman'shead with such force, that, had she not dodged the missile, it must haveinflicted a severe contusion. 

"There, you blundering black brute!" she exclaimed, "see if you'll bringyour master's hartshorn headache-dispenser again, when I send for mynerve-reviver. The idea of a delicate woman like me having a bottle ofhartshorn bobbed under her nose! The wonder is I am not dead; yes, deadby your hand, you brutal black nigger! But where was I in mypresentation? O, I recollect! That mad-cap girl, my second jewel, sohorrified me. I dare not yet refer to it lest my nerves become spasmodicagain. Pray excuse her, Miss Orville, and I will proceed to my youngest, my infant-jewel! Eldora Adelaide Maria Suzette, greet your cousin, love, as you ought. "

The child arose, made a stiff bend of her shoulders, and said, "I hopeto see you well, Miss Alice Orville. "

Alice returned her salute with a graceful courtesy, and all resumedtheir seats. 

"Now, " said Mrs. Camford, "this dreaded ceremony of presentation isover, I hope we may get on well together. I'm desirous, Miss Orville, that you should commence tuition at the seminary immediately. I shallhave no pains spared to afford you a fashionable education. As mydeceased brother's only child, I would have this much done at my ownexpense. I always told Ernest, though he married a poor girl from thenorth, and went off there to live with her, much against the wishes ofour parents, that I would never see a child of his suffer. "

"I have never suffered, madam!" said Alice, quickly. 

"For food and clothes I suppose not, Miss Orville, " said Mrs. Camford, loftily; "but my nerves are all shattered by this long confab, and Iwill now retire, leaving you young people to cultivate each other'sacquaintance. Thisbe, carry me to my private apartment!"

And Thisbe lifted her delicate mistress in her arms, and tugged her fromthe room; an operation that reminded one, not of a "mountain laboring tobring forth a mouse, " but of a mouse laboring to bring forth a mountain. 

Days and weeks past by, and Alice was not so unhappy as she feared shewould be from her first experience. The "belle and beauty" returned fromthe city of Mobile, under escort of Mr. Gilbert, who proved to be thefair Celestina's _fiancée_. And Wayland Morris was a frequent visitor. He often invited Alice to walk over different portions of the city. There was an old ruinous French chateau to which they were wont todirect their steps almost every Saturday evening when the weather waspleasant; and to walk with Morris, gaze into his deep blue eyes, andlisten to his eloquent voice as he recited to her old tales and legendsof long ago from his well-stored, imaginative brain, was becoming morethan life to Alice. Perhaps she did not quite know it then. Whoeverknows the value of a blessing till it is withdrawn? Ah! and when we wakesome morning to find our hearts left desolate, how earnestly andtearfully do we beg its return, with fervent promises never to drive itfrom our bosoms, or scorn and slight it again! But does it ever come?Alas, no!

 CHAPTER IV. 

 "O, know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in her clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melts into sorrow, now maddens to crime; O, know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine?"

Bright, balmy, beautiful southern land! Alas, that amid all yourluxuriance of beauty, where the flowering earth smiles up to the farsparkling azure, and all nature seems chanting delicious harmonies, thatman should here, as elsewhere, make the one discordant note! Frail, grovelling, passion-blinded man! The noblest imperfection of God! Whenwill he be elevated to the standard for which the Maker designed him?

It was early spring, and the "floating palace, " Eclipse, had made manypleasant trips between New Orleans and Louisville, since Alice Orvillestood on her guards and feasted her beauty-loving eyes on the delightfulriver scenery. 

The magnificent boat was now at the levee in New Orleans, advertised tosail on the morrow. All was a scene of confusion in her vicinity. Freight and baggage tumbled over the decks, passengers hurrying onboard, carts, hacks and omnibuses rudely jostling one against another, runners loudly vociferating for their respective boats, etc. At length ayoung man made his way through the crowd to the clerk's office, bookedhis name, and engaged passage for a small town in Tennessee. The clerkglanced at the name, and, instantly extending a hand to the passenger, exclaimed; "Ah, Mr. Morris, happy to meet you! I look in so manydifferent faces, yours did not strike me as familiar at first. How hasbeen your health, and how have you prospered since I saw you last? Now Irecollect you were on the boat when we brought the pretty young ladydown; Miss Orville, I think was her name. Is she yet in the city?"

"I believe she is, " answered Morris, in a tone meant to be careless. 

"Surrounded by enamored admirers, no doubt, " remarked the clerk. "So youare bound up the river, Morris?"

"Yes, to visit my widowed mother in Tennessee; she is failing in health, and sent for me to come to her. "

"Indeed; 'tis like a dutiful son to obey the summons. Will you return toNew Orleans?"

"Such is my intention at present. "

"Well, make yourself comfortable here, and the Eclipse will set you offat your stopping-place in two or three days, " said the gentlemanlyclerk, dismissing his friend, as others thronged around foraccommodations. 

The sun sank behind the "Father of Waters, " as before a small graycottage on the eastern shore of the mighty river, a young, fair-hairedgirl stood watching its departing light. At length a boat came in viewround a winding curve, and the little maiden leaped up, clapped herhands gleefully, and disappeared within the cottage. Onward came thegraceful boat, lashing the waters into foam with its swift-revolvingwheels. It neared the shore, made a brief halt, and then glided on itsway again. A young man bounded up the embankment, and the fair girl methim on the lowly sill with open arms. "Dear sister Winnie, how you aregrown!" exclaimed he; "but lead me to mother quickly. "

"I will, I will, brother Wayland. She has talked of you all day long, and feared you would not arrive in time to see her. "

"Ah! is she failing so rapidly, then?" said the young man, while a gloomstole over his features. 

"O, not so very fast!" answered the child; "and now you are come, I daresay she will soon be well again. "

He patted her cheek, and hurriedly entered his mother's apartment. Shewas lying on an humble pallet, wan and emaciated to so fearful a degree, that the son could hardly recognize the parent from whom he had partedeight months before. 

"O, mother!" said he in sorrowful, reproachful accents; "why had you notsent for me sooner?"

"I have wanted for nothing, my boy, " answered the invalid, in a huskyvoice. "Your letters spoke of success, and hopes for the future; howcould I be so selfish as to call you away from prospects so fair, totend on a sick-bed?"

The son was silent, and after a few moments' pause, she resumed: "Winniedid all that could be done for me. But for a few weeks I've failedfaster than usual, and I could not bear to die without beholding mydarling boy once more. Besides, what was to become of Winnie, left aloneand unprotected?"

"Do not speak so hopelessly, dear mother, " said Wayland, tears gatheringin his eyes; "I trust with the advancing spring your health mayimprove. "

The poor woman shook her head. Winnie came, and, putting her little armsround her mother's neck, commenced sobbing bitterly. 

"Winnie! Winnie! you worry mother doing so, " said Wayland, drawing heraway; "come now with me; I want to see your pretty fawn and pet kids. "

"O, brother! the white spots are all gone from Fanny's neck and sides, and the kiddies' horns are grown so long I'm half afraid of them; butcome, I'll find them for you;" and the child, diverted from her tears, seized her brother's hand to lead him forth in search of her playmates. They were soon found, and after admiring and caressing them a fewmoments, Wayland left his sister to frolic with them on the lawn, andreturned to his mother's side. 

They had a long, confidential conversation, in which the son imparted tohis affectionate parent a brief history of the past eight months. Shelistened with eager interest to the rehearsal. When he mentioned AliceOrville, she regarded his countenance with a fixed, searchingexpression, and a faint smile stole over her pale, sad face; but when hebreathed the name of Camford, she started convulsively, and demanded hisChristian name. 

"Adolphus, " answered Wayland, in amaze at her emotion. "He is MissOrville's uncle, and the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans. "

"'Tis the same, " she murmured; "you were too young, my son, when yourfather died, to have any recollection of the events which preceded hisdeath; but you have heard from me that he was hurried out of the worldby temporal misfortunes too great for his delicate, sensitivetemperament to endure. The sudden descent from affluence to poverty borehim to the grave. And I have told you, Wayland, that by the hand of oneman, all this woe and suffering was brought upon us. "

"And who was that man, dear mother?" asked the youth, in an agitatedvoice. 

"Adolphus Camford, " answered she, trembling as she spoke the fatal name. 

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Wayland, starting to his feet. "Then may theson avenge the father!"

"Stop, my boy, " said his mother; "I intended this revelation but as acaution for you against your father's destroyer. 'Vengeance is mine, Iwill repay, ' saith the Lord. Promise that you will remember this, Wayland, or I cannot die in peace. "

"I promise, mother, " said the young man, bowing at the bed-side, andleaning his head tenderly on her bosom. 

 CHAPTER V. 

 "If there is anything I hate on earth, It is a ranting, tattling, prattling jade, Who gossips all day long, and fattens on Her neighbors' foibles, and at night lies down To dream some ghostly tale, and rises soon To bawl it through the town as good and true. "

Hast ever attended a Ladies' Sewing Circle, reader, and witnessed thebenevolent proceedings of the matrons, spinsters, and young maidens, forthe poor, benighted heathen on the far-distant shores of Hindostan, orthe benighted millions who sit in the "region and shadow of death" onthe desert plains of Ethiopia? And while thou hast heard the ladypresident plead so eloquently for those nations, who, groaning in theirself-forged chains, bow to the great Moloch of superstition andidolatry, as to "draw tears of blood, " as it were, from the eyes of herrapt and devoted listeners, hast ever marked a pale, trembling child ofwant totter to the door, and ask for the "crumbs that fall" from thishumane society's tea-table, and heard the answer, "Begone! this is abenevolent association for the purpose of evangelizing the heathen, notto feed lazy beggars at our own doors?"

And has thy lips dared e'en to whisper, "O for the charity that begins at home!"

Well, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for Foreign Aid" wasduly congregated at Mrs. Jane Rockport's, Pleasant-street, in the townof Bellevue, on the western shore of Lake Erie. It was a rainy day, --asdays for the meeting of sewing circles most always are; though whyHeaven should strive to thwart benevolence is a point upon which we willnot venture an opinion. 

About twenty of the most zealous in the course of philanthropy, who nodoubt felt the wrongs of the suffering heathen impelling them to bravethe wind and rain, had assembled in Mrs. Rockport's parlor, and, afterhearing a hymn composed for the occasion by the Misses Gaddies, andperformed by the same interesting young ladies, and an appropriateprayer by the president, Mrs. Stebbins, the work designed for thepresent meeting was laid upon the table, and the several members of thelittle company selected articles upon which to display theirbenevolence, and scattered off in groups of two and three to differentparts of the room, while a low, incessant hum of voices struck the earfrom all quarters. It appeared the devoted ladies were exerting theirtongues as well as fingers in the good cause. 

"Now, do you suppose it is true?" asked Miss Jerusha Sharpwell, atlength, in a raised voice, with horror and amazement depicted on hersharp-featured face. 

"Why, Susan Simpson told me that Dilly Hootaway told her that littleNanny Dutton told her, 'Pa had got a nice lamb shut up in a pen, andthey were going to have it killed for Christmas, '" said Mrs. DorothySykes, in reply to her companion's startled exclamation. 

"Enough said, " returned Miss Jerusha, with a toss of her tall head; "nowsuch things ought not to pass unnoticed, I say. "

This was uttered in so loud a tone that the attention of all in the roomwas roused, and several voices demanded what was the matter. 

"Matter enough, " said Miss Sharpwell; "that thievish Oliver Dutton hasstolen a sheep from the widow Orville. "

"La! have you just heard of it, sister Sharpwell?" exclaimed Mrs. Fleetwood; "I knew it a week ago. "

"You did, did you?" said Mrs. Sykes; "why, it was only stolen lastnight. "

"Perhaps Mr. Dutton has stolen two sheep, " suggested Mrs. Aidy. 

"No doubt, no doubt, " put in Miss Jerusha, much excited. 

"Well, ladies, " observed Mrs. Milder, "as I am perfectly sure, I maysafely affirm that Mr. Dutton has stolen no sheep from Mrs. Orville. "

"How do you know he has not?" demanded Sykes and Sharpwell in a breath. 

"Because Mrs. Orville has no sheep, " returned Mrs. Milder, quietly. 

"Well, now, was there ever such a place as this is coming to be? No onecan believe a thing unless they see it with their own eyes, " exclaimedMrs. Sykes, in an indignant tone. "I'm sure I heard Dutton had got alamb for Christmas; and how could the poor critter come by it unless hestole it somewhere; and as Mrs. Orville lives alone, I thought likely hewould take advantage of that, and steal it from her, for I didn't knowbut what she kept sheep. "

"Very natural, Mrs. Sykes, that you should thus suppose, " chimed in MissJerusha. "No one questions your honor or veracity. But what were yousaying, Miss Gaddie? I thought you were speaking of Mrs. Orville'sdaughter that went off south a year or two ago. "

"I was merely remarking that Mrs. Orville received a letter from Alicelast week, and sis, who used to be acquainted with her, called toinquire after her welfare. "

"Well, what did she hear?" asked Miss Sharpwell. 

"Not much, did you, sis?" asked the elder Miss Gaddie of her youngersister. 

"No, I didn't _hear_ much, but I _see_ enough, " answered thatinteresting miss. 

"Lord bless us, child!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "What did you see?"

"Why, Mrs. Orville was blubbering like a baby when I entered, but shetried to hush up after a while. "

"Mercy to me!" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes; "her daughter must be dead or cometo some awful disgrace away off there. "

"No, she is not dead, " said Miss Gaddie, "for her mother said she waswell, and spoke of returning home next spring or summer. "

"O, dear! these young girls sent off alone in the world most always cometo some harm, " said Miss Sharpwell, with a rueful expression ofcountenance. 

"True, true, sister Jerusha, " returned Mrs. Sykes, "what should I thinkof sending my Henrietta off so?"

"Sure enough, sister Sykes, " said Miss Sharpwell. "We ought not, however, to forsake our friends in adversity. Let us call on Mrs. Orville, and sympathize in her affliction. "

"With all my heart, sister Jerusha. I am a mother, and can appreciate amother's feelings over a beloved child's downfall and disgrace, " saidMrs. Sykes, with a distressful expression of pity distorting hercountenance. 

And thus in the mint of the Ladies' Benevolent Society was cast, coinedand made ready for current circulation, the tale of poor Alice Orville'simaginary shame and ruin. Yet faster flew those Christian ladies'Christian fingers for the poor heathen, while they thus discussed theslang and gossip of the village. 

At length the president arose, and said the hour for adjournment hadarrived. She complimented the ladies on their prompt attendance andenthusiastic devotion to the good cause. "Who can tell the results thatmay follow from this little gathering of Christian sisters on this dark, rainy evening?" she exclaimed. "What mind can conceive the mightyinfluence these seemingly insignificant articles your ready tact andskill have put together, may exert on the heathen world? Even thisscarlet pin-cushion may save some soul from death 'mid the spicy grovesof Ceylon's isle. " [Tremendous sensation, as the lady president wavedthe pin-ball to and fro. ] "But language would fail me to enumerate thebenefits this holy organization of Christians is destined to bestow onbenighted Pagandom. We will now listen to a hymn from the sistersGaddies, and adjourn to Wednesday next, at 2 o'clock, P. M. , at the houseof Mrs. Huldah Fleetfoot. "

The hymn was sung, and the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination forForeign Aid" duly adjourned to the time and place aforementioned. 

We have seen that Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Dorothy Sykes hadagreed to call on Mrs. Orville, and condole with her on her daughter'sdisgrace; but those benevolently-disposed ladies deemed it expedient tocall first at sundry places in the village and repeat the lamentabletale, probably to increase the stock of sympathy; so Mrs. Orville heardthe sad story of her daughter's shame from several different sources, ere these good ladies, their hearts overflowing with the "milk of humankindness, " came to sympathize in her affliction. 

She received them with her accustomed urbanity and politeness, whilethey cast wondering glances toward each other; probably that they hadnot found Mrs. Orville in hysterical tears. But Miss Sharpwell, nothingdaunted, and determined to sympathize, readily expressed her admirationof Mrs. Orville's fortitude of mind, that she could support herself withso much calmness, under so great an affliction. 

"I do not know as I quite understand you, Miss Sharpwell, " remarked Mrs. Orville, in a calm tone, and fixing her clear eyes steadily on hervisitor's face. "I have experienced no severe affliction of late. I havelost no sheep, as I had none to lose. "

"La! then that was all a flyin' story about Dutton's stealing yourlamb, " broke in Mrs. Sykes. "Well, I'm glad to find it so; but I wonderwhere the poor critter _did_ get it?"

"I can enlighten you on that point, " said Mrs. Orville; "Mrs. Milderpresented him with it for a Christmas dinner. "

"_She_ did?" exclaimed Miss Sharpwell. "Why couldn't she have saidso at the sewing society, the other day, then, when we were talkingabout it, and thus settled the matter in all our minds? I hate this sly, underhanded work. But we must not forget our errand, sister Sykes. "

"By no means, " observed the latter. "Dear Mrs. Orville, we are come tosympathize with you in a far greater affliction than the loss of a sheepwould prove--the loss of a daughter's fair fame. "

"You grow more and more enigmatical, " said Mrs. Orville, smiling; "mydaughter has lost neither her health nor fair fame, as you express it. Ireceived a letter from her last week. She was well, and purposes toreturn home the coming summer. "

"Why, goodness, is it so?" exclaimed Sykes; "we heard as how you hadawful news of Alice, and were well-nigh distracted about her. "

"I heard a report to that effect, " said Mrs. Orville; "but whence itoriginated I cannot say. It has no foundation in truth. "

"Well, what an awful wicked place this is getting to be! I declare itmakes my blood run cold to think of it, " said Miss Jerusha, with a pioushorror depicted on her countenance. 

"And religious prayer-meetings kept up, and a Christian sewing circle inthe place too, " added Mrs. Sykes. "I declare wickedness is increasing toa fearful extent. We must be going, sister Jerusha. I declare I canhardly sit still, I feel so for the sinners of this village. "

"Mrs. Orville, I am glad the stories reported concerning your daughterare false, for _your_ sake, " said Miss Sharpwell, as the sympatheticladies rose to depart; but she added, in her most emphatic tone, "Itremble for the sakes of those who put those stories in circulation. Good-day, my friend. "

 CHAPTER VI. 

 "I tell you I love him dearly, And he loves me well I know; It seems as if I could nearly Eat him up, I love him so. "

"Well, sis, how do you like New Orleans?" asked Wayland Morris of hissister Winnie, as he entered her quiet little study-chamber one eveningafter the toil of the day was over. 

"O, I like it well enough, Wayland, " she answered; "that is, I like myboarding-place here with Mrs. Pulsifer, I like my dear, kind teacher, Aunt Debby, and I like my playmates. "

"And is there anything you do not like, my sister?" asked Wayland, observing she hesitated. 

"Yes, two things. "

"What are they?"

"First, I don't like to have you work so hard to support me inidleness. "

"In idleness, Winnie?"

"Yes, or what is just the same thing, I mean earning nothing to supportmyself. I could learn some trade, and thus obtain money sufficient forall my wants, and give you some, too, if you would but let me do it. "

"My brave little sis, " said Wayland, drawing her to his bosom, "have Inot told you that when you have acquired an education, you can become ateacher, which will surely prove an occupation more congenial to yourtaste, and by it you can gain an ample competence for all immediatenecessities?"

"But it will take a great deal of money to procure an education, " saidWinnie, looking doubtfully in her brother's face. 

"Not a very great deal, my prudent little sis, " laughed Wayland, "and Ican easily furnish you with the sum needful. "

"And, when I'm a teacher, will you let me repay all you have expended onme?"

"Yes, yes, if that will put your mind at rest. "

"Ah, but I fear it will be beyond my power to repay _all_ you areexpending on your foolish little sis! You are growing thin and pale, brother, and you have none of the joyous spring and laughter with whichyou used to chase my pretty fawns away up there on the green shores ofTennessee. "

"I am older and graver now, Winnie; besides, I often think of our dearmother, sleeping there in death's embrace, and of our being orphans inthe wide world. "

"O, it is very sad, brother!" said the young girl, bursting into tears. 

"Do not weep so bitterly, " said Wayland, endeavoring to soothe hergrief; "you said there were two things you did not like. I havedispensed with one; now tell me the other. "

"O, never mind that now!" said Winnie, quickly; "assist me in my Algebralesson, there's a good brother. "

"Yes, after you have told me what I have asked. "

"Well, it is a foolish thing, you will say. You know Jack Camford?"

"Yes; do you?" inquired Wayland in surprise. 

"He comes to our school this term, " said Winnie, demurely. 

"And he is the other thing you do not like, is he?"

"Why, no, brother; he is not a thing, is he?"

"Well, perhaps not; but what is it you do not like?"

"Why, I don't like to have the girls tease me, and say he comes to ourschool just to see me, " said Winnie, averting her face. 

Wayland's brow darkened at these words, and he was some time silent. 

"Are you angry, brother?" asked Winnie at length. 

"No, Winnie, not angry, but pained. My sister, this young Camford is nota fit person for you to associate with. "

"Why not?" exclaimed Winnie. 

Wayland gazed in her face, and felt it was time to speak. "Winnie, wouldyou have for a friend the son of a man who robbed your father of hisfortune and hurried him into the grave?"

She was silent. "Adieu now, sister, " continued Wayland, "I will call andsee you to-morrow evening, " and with a tender kiss on the soft cheek, heleft her in her first young, girlish love-sorrow. Bitterly she chargedhim with cold, unfeeling cruelty; for she intuitively perceived thedrift of those few words. "But was her poor Jack to suffer for hisfather's errors? No; thrice no! and she longed to lay her head on hisbosom and tell him all her sorrows, for he was not stern and cruel, likebrother Wayland. No, he loved her dearly, as she loved him. "

 * * *

"Thunder and Mars! what's to pay now, I wonder?" exclaimed Esq. Camford, rushing pell-mell into the dining room, where his family were assembledat breakfast, and throwing his delicate wife into hysterics. 

"O, Thisbe! run for the nerve-reviver, " shrieked Mrs. Camford. "O, Adolphus! why will you not regard my tremulous nerves, and not affrightme thus? What desperate thing has happened? O, Adolphus! you'll be thedeath of me. "

"I'll be the death of that cursed young vagabond, John Camford, " blurtedforth the squire, in a tone of terrible rage. 

"O, my son, my brilliant among my jewels! how has he incurred yourdispleasure?" faintly articulated Mrs. Camford. 

"Why, I saw the graceless scamp tugging a girl through the French marketthis morning, filling her hands with bouquets and all sorts offol-de-rols. There is where the money goes he wheedles out of me everyweek; but I'll fix the young rapscallion. Next thing, we shall have somecreole girl, or mulatto wench introduced to the family as Mrs. Camford, junior. "

The squire fairly foamed at the mouth, with anger. His fair consort wasin frantic hysterics, beating the floor with her heels, and exclaiming, "O, mercy, mercy! my son, my Daniel, Henry, Thomas, Lewis, John! mybrilliant, among my jewels! O, spare him for the love of Heaven, myhusband, my adored Adolphus!"

Thisbe was following her mistress and bobbing the nerve-reviver to hernose, but it failed to produce the usual effect. All the servants inattendance stood with their mouths agape, while the three jeweldaughters proceeded quietly with their breakfast, and Alice sat amongthem, a silent spectator of the scene. And now, as if to cap the climax, in walked the culprit, Mr. Jack Camford, in _propria persona_, lookingas unconcerned and innocent as if nothing had occurred to displace himin his father's good graces. At sight of her brilliant son, Mrs. Camfordshrieked and fell prostrate on the floor, and Thisbe, in the moment ofexcitement, seized the senseless form and carried it from the room withas much ease as she would have borne a cotton-bale. No sooner had thedoor closed on his delicate spouse, than Esq. Camford bellowed forth, "Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford, you rascal, come and standbefore your father!" The son instantly did as commanded. Doffing his"Kossuth, " and passing one hand through the long locks of curling blackhair, he swept it away from his clear, smooth brow, and stoodconfronting his wrathful parent with a calm, unembarrassed aspect. Hewas certainly a handsome young fellow, and Winnie Morris was quiteexcusable for loving him a little in her girlish heart. The father'sanger softened as he gazed on his fair-looking boy, and when he spoke, his voice had lost all its former harshness. 

"Jack, my lad, " he said, "why do you stand gazing about you thus? Come, and sit down to your breakfast. "

"You bade me stand before you, father, therefore I did so, " said theson, now approaching the table and assuming a seat beside his cousinAlice. 

There were a few moments of silence, during which all were occupied withtheir meal. At length Esq. Camford inquired, casually enough, "Jack, what young lady was that I saw you with in the French market thismorning?"

Jack, at the moment helping Alice to a snipe, answered carelessly, "Young lady? O, Miss Winnie Morris, sister of Wayland Morris, editor ofour Literary Gazette. "

Alice suddenly dropped her bird on the cloth, and Esq. Camford sprangfrom the table, and, seizing his hat, bolted from the apartment, overturning two servants in his way, and exclaiming at the top of hisvoice, "Thunder and Mars! Thunder and Mars!"

Jack burst into a hearty laugh as his father cleared the door, and said, "Was there ever a theatre could equal our house for enacting scenes?Why, Alice, where are you going?" he continued, observing her rise fromthe table; "stay a moment; will you be disengaged when I come in todinner? I want a few moments' private conversation with you. "

"I shall be at your service, cousin, " she answered, closing the doorbehind her. 

"What have you to say to Alice?" inquired Miss Celestina, the "belle andbeauty, " in a querulous tone; picking at a bunch of flowers that laidbeside Josephine's plate. 

"O, please don't spoil my flowers, sister!" said Miss Pheny; "they weresent to me this morning by a particular friend. "

"Faugh! what particular friend have _you_ got, I wonder?" sneered thebeauty; "some foolish love affair afoot here, to rival Jack's, Isuppose. Ha, ha! what silly things children are! But come, bubby, tellme what you want with Alice?"

"That's my business, " returned the youth proudly. 

"To talk about your sweetheart, no doubt, and solicit her sympathy inyour love troubles. You'll find father won't have you toting about withthis beggar girl, I can tell you!" said the fair Celestina, spitefully. 

"She is not a beggar, " retorted Jack with flashing eyes, "but a far morebeautiful and accomplished lady than many who have had the bestadvantages of fashionable society. "

"O, of course, she is all perfection in your eyes at present, " returnedthe beauty in an aggravating tone, as she rose to retire; "but this daysix months I wonder how she will appear to your fickle, capriciousgaze?"

"If you were worth a retort, I'd make one, " said Jack, with a glance ofangry contempt on his sister, as he took his cap and left the apartment. 

 CHAPTER VII. 

 "Thy haunting influence, how it mocks My efforts to forget! The stamp love only seals but once Upon my heart is set. "

Winnie Morris was laying her pretty head on her kind teacher's shoulder, and pleading, O, so eloquently, with her sweet lips and eyes!

"Indeed, I want to go very much, dear Aunt Debby, and Jack will be sodisappointed if you say no. He sent me to plead, because he said nobodycould resist me. Will you not let me go this once, if I'll promise neverto ask again?"

"The theatre is not a fit place for young girls, " said the teacher, witha serious mien; "by going there they obtain false ideas of life. "

"But I won't, Aunt Debby, I'm sure I won't, by going just once. "

The good-natured teacher patted the soft cheek of her winsome pleader, and the gentle act seemed to convince the child that she was gaining herpoint. 

"O, Debby, Debby!" she exclaimed, throwing her white arms round the goodwoman's neck; "you will let me go with Jack to-night, I know. "

"For which do you most wish to go: to see the play, or to be with him?"asked Debby, still delaying the wished-for permission. 

"O, to be with him!" answered Winnie; "and I could not be with himunless I went out somewhere, for brother Wayland is cross at Jack; onlythink of it--cross at my Jack! And he asks Mrs. Pulsifer whenever Jackcomes to see me, and then scolds; or not exactly that, --but says I oughtnot to associate with a person he does not approve, and that Jack iswild and unsteady, and won't love me long; but he doesn't know him aswell as I do, or he wouldn't say so, I'm sure;" and Winnie greweloquent, and her cheeks flushed vermilion red, while she spoke of hergirlish love. But Miss Deborah's face had assumed a less yieldingexpression during her fair pupil's recital. 

"So it appears your brother is not pleased with young Mr. Camford, " sheremarked, as Winnie ceased; "under the circumstances, you must apply tohim for permission to accompany Master Jack to the theatre. "

"O, dear! I wish I had not said a word, " sobbed Winnie. "'Tis no use togo to Wayland, for I know he would refuse my request; so I may as wellmake up my mind to pass the evening alone in my room. I'm more sorry forJack, after all, than myself, he will be so sadly disappointed. Good-night, Aunt Debby, " and with dejected aspect the young girl put onher little straw hat and left the school-room. 

The evening stole on, and Jack Camford was beside his cousin Alice, inher quiet apartment. 

"I don't see why Wayland Morris should hate me so inveterately, as toforbid his sister to receive any calls from me, " remarked the youth, bitterly. 

"How do you know he does so?" inquired Alice, without raising her eyesfrom the German worsted pattern on which she was occupied. 

"Because Winnie told me so, to-night. I had invited her to attend thetheatre, but it appears she dared not ask her brother's permission, forfear of a refusal, " said Jack, in a troubled tone. "You are acquaintedwith Mr. Morris, Alice?"

"No, " returned she, quickly. 

"Why, he calls on you. "

"He did call at the house once or twice, soon after my arrival here, Ibelieve. "

"Once or twice!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise; "why, he was here almostevery day for several months, and we all thought you were declaredlovers. "

"Hush, Jack! how you are running on!" said Alice, with a flushedcountenance. 

"Well, don't tell me you are not acquainted with young Morris, then, "returned Jack. 

"I have not seen him, as you are aware, for the last six months, "remarked Alice. 

"But you _could_ see him very easily. "

"So could you. "

"Ah, Alice! I thought you would do me so small a favor. "

"As what?"

"See Mr. Morris, and ascertain why he opposes my addresses to hissister. "

"Is he the only one who opposes you?"

"You allude to my family; but not one of them should control me, in thismatter, if I could win her from her brother. "

"You are very young, Jack; wait a few years, and your feelings willchange. "

The boy looked on his cousin as she uttered these words with so muchapparent indifference, and exclaimed:

"O, Alice! you have never loved, or you could not talk thus to me, " andhurriedly left the apartment. 

Alice heard him rush down the hall stairs and into the street. "PoorJack!" she sighed; "but what could I do for him? To place myself beforeWayland Morris, and plead my cousin's suit with his sister, whenprobably the very cause of his objection to their acquaintance is thatthe lover is a relation of mine; and it appears that by somemisapprehension I have as unwittingly as unfortunately incurred hisdispleasure. What other reason can there be for the cessation of hisvisits, but that he does not desire to see me?"

Ay, what other indeed, Alice? If you would have Wayland's love, therecould not be a stronger proof that 'tis yours, than this apparentneglect and forgetfulness. Love joys in mystery, "Shows most like hate e'en when 'tis most in love, And when you think 'tis countless miles away, Is lurking close at hand. "

So, be not too sad, Ally, dear, when the brave steamboat bears you upthe majestic Mississippi, and far onward over the beautiful Ohio, amidher wild, enchanting scenery, and the dashing railroad cars at lengthset you down on a quiet summer evening at your mother's rural threshold. Try hard to say, "I have forgotten Wayland Morris;" but your heart willrebel; and try harder to say, "I shall never behold his face again;"still "hope will tell a flattering tale;" and try hardest of all toexclaim, "I'll fly his presence forever. " But yet, away down low in yourbeating bosom, a little voice will love to tantalize and whisper--"Willyou, though?"

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 "Come, clear the stage and give us something new, For we are tired to death with these old scenes. "

Night after night, high up in the sky, the stars shone wildly bright, but the heaven refused its grateful showers and the earth lay parched toa cinder beneath the blazing sunbeams. The mighty Mississippi shrunkwithin its banks to the size of a mere wayside rivulet, and the longlines of boats lay lazily along the levees. No exchange of produce ormerchandise could be effected between the upper and lower regions of thegreat Mississippi valley, and the consequence was universal depressionin trade and heavy failures. Esquire Camford went among the first in thegeneral crash, and his fair consort's nerves went also. Thenerve-reviver failed to produce the least soothing effect in thisdreadful emergency, and she sank into a bed-ridden ghost of hysteria, with Thisbe for her constant attendant, to minister to her numerouswants, and feed her with lobsters' claws and Graham crackers, whichconstituted her sole food and nourishment. 

As for the "belle and beauty, " she, on a day, married Mr. Gilbert, inpearl-colored satin, and that gentleman chancing to overturn asherry-cobbler on the fair bride's robe, the delicate creature went intoa nervous paroxysm, which so alarmed and terrified the happy bridegroom, that, when he recovered his senses, he found himself on the far, blueocean, with the adorable Celestina's marriage-portion, consisting of thesnug sum of fifty thousand dollars, wrapped up in a blue netting-pursein his coat pocket. How the great bank-bills grinned at him, as if tocharge him with the wanton robbery and desertion! He gazed around in abewildered manner, and the first face that met his eye was that of hisbrother-in-law, Jack Camford, who advanced with a woeful smiledistorting his fine features, and exclaimed, "Upon my word, you're a lucky dog, Gilbert!"

"How so?" demanded the latter. 

"To have married my sister the day before father failed, and thussecured a pretty fair sum of money; and now to have escaped a tediouswife and got safely off with it in your pocket, " said Jack, with atheatrical flourish of manner. 

"But what does all this mean? Why are you here, and where is this shipbound?"

"Well, I'm here--hum--I don't know why, save that life was intolerableat home after the smash-up, and Winnie Morris heard I was getting wild, and turned a cold shoulder on me, I fancied. As to this craft, thatreels and tumbles about like a reef of drunkards, she is bound forAustralia; so I suppose, in due time, you and I will be landed on theshores of the golden Ophir, if we don't get turned into Davy Jones'locker by some mishap. "

"Australia!" exclaimed Gilbert, "what the deuce am I going there for;and how came I in this place?"

"All I know is, I found you here asleep when I came aboard, and here youhave been asleep for the last three days, wearing off the effects ofyour wedding-feast, I suppose. I thought best not to disturb you, as atsea one may as well be sleeping as waking. "

"But, Jack Camford! I cannot go to Australia, " said Gilbert, still halfconfounded. 

"How are you going to avoid it?" asked Jack, laughing. 

"True! but what will my bride say? Here I hold her fortune in my hand. "

"Exactly! Divide it with me, if you please, and we'll increase itfour-fold e'er a year in the golden land. "

"But I don't like the idea of going to Australia!" pursued Gilbert. 

"Neither do I, very well, " answered Jack; "but when folks can't do asthey will, they must do as they can, I've heard say. "

Thus we leave our Australian adventurers and return to the land fromwhich they are so rapidly receding. We didn't know what else to do herein the eighth chapter, reader, unless we capped the climax, cleared thestage, and scattered the characters; for we were quite as tired of themas you were, and wanted to get them off our hands in some way. 

A few people think "Effie Afton" can tell stories tolerably well. Butshe can't, reader! We speak candidly, for we know "a heap" more abouther than you do. There may be those in the wide world who hug themselvesin the belief that she can tell _little_ fibs and _large_ fibs prettyflippantly. Well, let them continue thus to believe, if they choose! Weshall not pause to say ay, yes, or nay; and we also entertain a privateopinion, now publicly expressed, that there are people within thelimited circle of our acquaintance who can not only give utterance to_little_ and _large_ fibs, but make their whole lives and actions playthe lie to their thoughts and feelings. But as to "Effie's" telling longmagazine tales, --pshaw! she is the most unsystematic creature in theworld. She just humps down in a big rocking-chair, with one sort of_foolscap_ in her _hand_, and another sort on her _head_, with an oldmusic-book to lay the sheets on, a lead-pencil for a pen, and thusequipped, writes chapter one, and dashes _in medias res_ at once, without an idea as to how, where, or when the story thus commenced is tofind its terminus or end. This is the way she does, reader; for we haveseen her time and again. Well, she scratches on "like mad" till her oldlead-pencil is "used up. " Then she sharpens the point, and rushes onwilder than before. She don't eat much, and if any one calls her todinner, never heeds them; but when she conceives herself arrived at asuitable stopping-place, drops her paper, runs to the pantry, snatches apiece of gingerbread, and back to her scribbling again, munching it asshe writes. 

This is precisely the way she brings her "stories" into existence; but, lest we write her out of favor too rapidly, we'll leave the subject, andback to our tale again, recommencing with a new chapter, which is--

 CHAPTER IX. 

 "And there are haunts in that far land-- O, who shall dream or tell Of all the shaded loveliness She hides in grot and dell!"

O, often, often, far from this, have we watched the great red sunsinking behind the vast stretching prairie, while all the broad westseemed like a surging flood of gold beyond an ocean of green; and oftenhave we beheld day's glorious orb looming above the soft blue waters ofthe placid bay, while the joyous birds soared up the sparkling dome ofheaven, their little throats almost bursting with thrilling melody, andthe balmy south wind came laden with the perfume of ten thousandordorous flowers!

O, sweet land upon the tropic's glowing verge, what star-bright memorieswe have of thee! How deeply treasured in our heart of hearts are all thyjoys and pleasures, --ay, and griefs and sorrows too! But as the spotwhere this long-crushed and drooping spirit heard those first, low, preluding strains, foretokenings that its long-enfeebled energies werewakening from their death-like slumber to breathe response to thethousand tones in sea and air that called so loudly on them to arouseonce more to life and action, it will ever be most truly dear. And whenagain life's fetters clog with the ice and snow of those frigid lands, we'll long to fly again to those climes of song and sunny ray, andforget earth's cankering cares in the contemplation of Nature'sluxuriant charms. But we grow abstract. 

Come with us, reader, if you will, over the prairies of Texas, gorgeouswith their many-colored flowers, dotted with the dark-green live-oaks, and watered by pellucid rivers. To that log-house, standing under theboughs of a wide-spreading pecan tree, let us wend our way. 

There is a gray-headed man sitting in a deer-skin-bottomed chair, on therude gallery, and gazing with weary eye on the lovely scenery aroundhim. Two young ladies are standing near, their countenances wearingsullen expressions of discontent and sorrow. 

"So this is Texas, father, " remarked the elder of the two, at length. "Iwonder how you ever expect to earn a living here, for my part. "

"By tilling the soil, my child, and growing cotton and sugar; finecountry for that. Land rich as mud and cheap as dirt. Why, I havepurchased five hundred acres for a mere trifle. Zounds! I feel likeamassing a new fortune here in a few years, " said the old man, suddenlyrousing from his stupor. 

"Well, I'm perfectly disgusted, " said the younger lady, "and wish I hadrun off to Australia with brother Jack and Celestina's faithlesshusband. "

"I wish I was in that convent upon the Mississippi, where poor sisterCelestina is now, " sighed the elder. 

"Pshaw, girls! you'll both marry wild Texan rangers before two years, "said the old gentleman, who was no less a personage than Esq. Camford, formerly the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans, but now a poor Texanemigrant in his log-cabin on the Cibolo. Well, he was a better man nowthan when rolling in the luxury of ill-gotten wealth, for adversitynever fails to teach useful lessons; and it had taught thisworld-hardened, conscience-seared man, that "honesty is the bestpolicy. "

A tremulous voice from within attracted the attention of the group onthe gallery. "Mercy, mercy, Thisbe, take that viper away, and let me outof this bed! it is full of frightful serpents. "

"Why, no 'taint neither, Missus, " said poor Thisbe, struggling to lifther mistress from the pillows; "there beant a snake nowheres about, onlya little striped 'izard, and I driv' him away. "

The husband now entered. 

"O, Adolphus!" exclaimed the nerve-stricken wife, "that you should havebrought me to a death like this! to be shot by Indians, devoured bybears, and bitten by rattlesnakes!"

"Thunder and Mars! nobody's dead yet, and this is a fine, healthy, growing country, " said the squire, in a loud, good-humored voice. 

"Alas! what am I to eat?" continued the nervous lady, "I can have noclaws and crackers in these wilds. "

"Let Thisbe catch you a young alligator from the river; that will besomething new for a relish. "

"O, Adolphus! how can you mock at the horrors that surround us? Mynerves, my nerves! you will never learn to regard them. "

"No, probably not, " returned the husband; "but let me tell you, Nabby, Idon't believe nerves are of any available use out here in Texas. They'lldo for effect in the fashionable saloons of a city; but what think awild Camanche would say if he chanced some broiling-hot morning to catchyou in dishabille, and you begged him to retreat and spare your nerves?Why, it would be all gibberish to him. "

"O, Adolphus! how can you horrify me thus? And these lovely jewels to bedevoured by hyenas and swallowed by crocodiles! O, my nerves! Thisbe, mynerve-reviver this moment!"

"There ain't a bit on't left, Missus; 'twas all in the trunk dat tumbledout o' the cart when we swum through dat ar river, " said the poorservant, in a tone of anxious dismay. 

"Heaven save me now!" exclaimed the panic-stricken lady. "Adolphus, youmust go to New Orleans to-morrow and bring me some. "

"Thunder and Mars! You forget we are eight hundred miles from there, andwhat do you suppose would become of you all before I got back? You wouldbe mounted on pack-mules, carried off to the Indian frontier, and madesquaws of. "

"O, father, don't leave us, I entreat of you!" sobbed Susette, onhearing these words. 

"Why did I not die ere I came to this?" groaned Mrs. Camford. "Why did Inot die when my eldest jewel and brilliant son were torn from myembrace? Alas! for what awful fate am I reserved?"

"Come, Nabby, this would do on the boards of the St. Charles, but toadsand lizards can't appreciate theatricals. Pheny, can't you manage to getup some sort of a dinner out of the corn-meal and sweet potatoes Ibought of the old Mynheer this morning; and there's a few eggs and a hamin the larder too. I declare I relish this new life already;--it is achange, Pheny, isn't it?" asked the father, looking in his fairdaughter's face. 

"Yes, " answered she, "and if it wasn't for the snakes and lizards, Iwouldn't complain. "

"Never mind them, " returned the squire, bravely; "they shan't hurt you. We'll have a nice, cosey home here a year from to-day. "

 CHAPTER X. 

 "It was the calm, moonshiny hour, And earth was hushed and sleeping; The hour when faithful love is e'er Its fondest vigils keeping. "

Clear as amber fell the moonlight on the forms of Wayland and WinnieMorris, as arm in arm they roamed the calm, delightful shores of LakePontchartrain. 

"Well, sister, " said Wayland, "four weeks have passed since I last sawyou, and how have you sped in your capacity of teacher?"

"O, bravely, Wayland! 'Tis so delightful to feel I am of some importancein the world, and that I'm laying up money to repay my brother, as faras I am able, for all he has done for me! You should see me in my littleschool-room, with my pupils round me. I fancy no queen e'er felt morepride and satisfaction in beholding her subjects kneeling before her, than I do with my infant class leaning their tiny arms on my lap andlooking in my face as they repeat from my lips the evening prayer. "

"I am pleased to find you so content and happy, " said Wayland. 

"O, I am indeed so, and indebted to you for all I enjoy!" returnedWinnie. 

"And what of Jack Camford, sis?" asked the brother, with a mischievoussmile. 

"O, I have not forgotten him yet, naughty Wayland!" answered she; "Idream of him most every night. "

"Well, I would not seek to control your dreams, sis; but I fancy they'lloccur less and less often, and by and by cease altogether. "

"You think I never loved Jack, " said Winnie. 

"I think you had a girlish fancy for him. As to woman's holy, unchanginglove, you have never yet experienced it, my little sister. "

"When shall I, then? I'm sixteen, and a preceptress. "

"Yes. "

"But don't you think Jack loved me, Wayland?"

"I think he had a boy's fancy for you, which may deepen into love withtime, or may be wholly dissipated from his bosom. "

"But why did you object to him so strongly? You well-nigh broke my heartat one time. It was not like you to hate the son for the parent'scrimes. "

"No, it was not for the father's errors that I bade you shun the son;but because I discovered in him a frivolous, faulty character, that hadno strength of purpose, or fixed principles of action; and I dreaded theinfluence such a person might exert over your youthful, pliant mind. "

"Now, what if he should return some of these years, and lay his life, love and fortune at my feet?" suggested Winnie, archly. 

"Should he return with the elements that make the man stamped on hisface and conduct, I would never object to his addresses to my sister, ifshe favored them, " said Wayland. 

"How the poor Camfords have suffered!" remarked Winnie, after a pause. 

"They have, indeed, " returned Wayland; "all our wrongs have beenexpiated, and I raised not a finger to avenge them. My mother on herdeath-bed bade me remember 'Vengeance was the Lord's, ' and, thanks toher name, I have done so. "

"Where are the family?" inquired Winnie. 

"Emigrated to Texas; and my brother editor, Mr. Lester, has purchasedtheir former residence, and I am boarding there at present. He hasextended to you a cordial invitation to pass your next vacation at hismansion. "

"O, he is very kind! I shall be delighted to do so. Do you still likeediting as well as formerly, brother?"

"Yes, it is an occupation suited to my tastes; and some of these years, when I have sufficient capital, I want to go home to old Tennessee, anderect a pretty rural cottage on the site of our former abode, and therepass away life in peace and quietude with you, dear sister, if such aprospect is pleasing to your mind. Or are you more ambitious?"

"No, brother; ambition is for men, not women, " said Winnie. 

"Yes, for men who love it, " responded Wayland; "but my highest ambitionis to be happy; and I look for happiness alone in rural quiet andseclusion. Do you accede to my project, sis?"

"With all my heart. "

"Then see that you keep that heart free, and not, before I carry my planinto execution, have given it to the charge of some gallant knight, andleft me desolate in my pretty cottage on the verdant shores ofTennessee. "

"Ay, and see that you don't find some fairer flower to bloom in thatcottage home, and rudely toss me from the window, " exclaimed Winnie, with a merry laugh. 

"No fear of that, " said Wayland; "now I must leave you. Expect me in aweek again. "

And with an affectionate salute the brother and sister parted. 

 CHAPTER XI. 

 "Ay, there are memories that will not vanish, Thoughts of the past we have no power to banish; To show the heart how powerless mere will; For we may suffer, and yet struggle still; It is not at our choice that we forget-- That is a power no science teaches yet, The heart may be a dark and closed-up tomb, But memory stands a ghost amid the gloom. "

Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Fleetfoot had dropped in to take teawith Mrs. Sykes on a pleasant September evening. The latter lady, as induty bound, was highly pleased to see her dear friends, and forthwithordered Hannah, her servant-girl, to make a batch of soda rolls, with abit of shortening rubbed in, and just step over to Mrs. Frye's, and askthat good lady "if she would not be so very kind and obliging as to lendMrs. Sykes a plateful of her nice, sweet doughnuts, as she had visitorscome in unexpectedly, and was not quite prepared to entertain them asshe could wish. " Thus were the guests provided for. 

"How happened it you were absent from the last sewing circle, sisterSykes?" inquired Miss Sharpwell. "We had an unusually interestingseason. Several new names were added to our list, and sister Fleetfoot, here, entertained us with a most amusing account of Pamela Gaddie'smarriage with Mr. Smith, the missionary to Bengal. "

"Indeed! I regret I was denied the pleasure of listening to the recital;but company detained me from the circle. "

"Ah! who was visiting you?" asked Mrs. Fleetfoot. 

"The Churchills, from Cincinnati, " answered Mrs. Sykes. "You know theyare particular friends of my husband. "

"Yes; is their son married yet?"

"No; and he called on Alice Orville every day while he was here. "

"La, do tell me!" said Jerusha. "How long was he with you, Mrs. Sykes?"

"A day and a half, " returned that lady. "He came up in the morning-trainand returned next evening. "

"Well, " said Mrs. Fleetfoot, "they do say Alice Orville is engaged toFred. Milder. "

"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "I never heard a word about itbefore! Well, Mrs. Milder was always standing up for Mrs. Orville. Ithought it meant something. Now I remember, Fred. Was at the last sewingcircle and walked home with Alice. I thought strange of it then, for itwas hardly a dozen yards to her house, and some of us young ladies hadto walk five times as far all alone. Who told you of the engagement?"

"La, I can't remember now!" said Mrs. Fleetfoot; "but I've heard of itever so many times. "

"Well, they'll make a pretty couple enough, " observed Mrs. Sykes;"though I rather fancied Alice was engaged to somebody off south, 'causeshe seems sort of downcast sometimes, and keeps so close since she gothome. "

"O, la, that's cause she's got wind of the story that was going abouthere before she came back! I wonder if there was any truth in it?" saidMrs. Fleetfoot. 

"I don't know; I never put much confidence in flying stories, " remarkedJerusha. 

"Neither do I!" said Mrs. Sykes; "or take the trouble to repeat, if Ichance to hear them. "

"Nor I!" chimed in Mrs. Fleetfoot. "If there is anything I mortallyabhor, it is a tattler and busybody. "

"Our sentiments, exactly!" exclaimed the other two ladies in concert. 

Hannah now entered and announced tea, and the trio of scrupulous, conscientious ladies repaired to the dining-room to luxuriate on shortrolls and Mrs. Frye's neighborly doughnuts. 

Mrs. Orville had a pleasant residence on the lake shore, and everythingwore a brighter aspect in the eyes of the mother, since her beloveddaughter had returned to enliven the old home by her sunshiny presence. But Alice had passed from the gay-hearted child to the thoughtful womanin the two years she had been away, and there was a mild, pensive lightin her dark eye that spoke of a chastened spirit within. Still, she wasusually cheerful, and always, even in her most melancholy hours, anagreeable companion. Beautiful in person, highly educated andaccomplished, her conversation, whether tinged with sadness or enlivenedby wit and humor, exercised a strange, fascinating power over herlisteners. 

Alice had left New Orleans with the expectation of having her cousinJosephine spend the ensuing winter with her at the north; but shortlyafter her arrival home a letter from her cousin informed her of theirfallen fortunes, and proposed emigration to Texas. As Alice knew not towhat part of that State to direct a reply, all further correspondencewas broken off between the parties. From Wayland Morris she never heard, and knew naught concerning him, save by occasional articles from his penin southern journals, which were noticed with commendation and applause. She tried hard to forget him; "for it is not right, " she said, "to wastemy life and health on one who never thinks of me. But why did he awakena hope in my breast that he loved me, if that hope was to be withdrawnas soon as it became necessary to my happiness?"

"Alice, Alice!" exclaimed Mrs. Orville, as the fair girl stood in therecess of a vine-covered window, absorbed in thoughts like these, "Mr. Milder is coming through the gate; will you go out to receive him?"

Alice roused from her reverie, and saying "Yes, mother, " very quietly, hastened through the hall to meet her visitor. 

"Good-evening, Mr. Milder!" said she, with a graceful courtesy. "Comeinto the parlor. I have been laying the sin of ungallantry upon you forthe last three days. "

"It is the last charge I would have expected preferred against me byyou, Miss Orville!" said he, smiling. 

"What other would you sooner have expected?" she inquired, looping upthe snowy muslin curtains to admit the parting sunbeams. 

"One I would have dreaded far more to hear, --that of being too assiduousin my attendance, " returned he, in a low tone. 

Alice answered by changing the conversation, and, after an hour passedin pleasant chit-chat, Fred. Proposed a stroll on the lake shore. Alicewas soon ready, and they sallied forth. The weather was delightful, andthat walk along Erie's sounding shores was fraught with a life-interestto one, and regretful sorrow to both. 

"I am going to Texas, Alice!" said Milder, as they reäpproached themansion of Mrs. Orville. 

"O, that you might find my cousin Josephine there, who is so good andbeautiful!" remarked Alice. 

"Would I might, if it would afford you a moment's pleasure, " heanswered, in a dejected tone. 

"If you do, pray give her my love, and entreat her to write and informme of her welfare, " said Alice, earnestly. 

"I shall be highly gratified to execute your commission, " he answered;"and now, good-by, Alice! May you be as happy as you deserve!"

"And may you, also, Fred. !" said Alice, with tears in her eyes. Onelingering pressure of the hand, and he was gone. 

"Noble heart!" exclaimed Alice; "why could I not love him? Alas! atyrant grasp is on my soul, which, while it delights to hold me in itstoils, and tantalize and torment, will not love me, or let me loveanother!"

"Alice!" said a voice within. 

"Yes, mother, I'm coming, " replied the daughter, entering the hall witha languid step, and proceeding to divest herself of shawl and bonnet. 

"You have had a long stroll and look fatigued, " remarked the fondparent, noticing her daughter's flushed cheeks and hurried respiration, as she flung herself into a large rocking-chair by the open window. Where is Fred. ?"

"Gone home, " said Alice. 

"Why did he not come in and rest a while?"

"I forgot to invite him, I believe, " returned Alice, briefly. 

"And did you not ask him to call at any future time?"

"No, mother; he is going to Texas. "

"Indeed! How long has he entertained that idea?" asked Mrs. Orville in atone of astonishment. 

"Not long, I fancy. I told him to find cousin Josephine and entreat herto write to me, " said Alice, fanning her face with a great, flappingfeather fan. 

"I hope he may do so; and much do I wish your cousin might be here topass the winter, for I fear you will be lonely without some companion ofyour own age, " said Mrs. Orville, attentively regarding her daughter. 

"O, never fear for me, mother!" returned Alice. "I assure you I haveample resources for enjoyment in my own breast. They only need occasionto be called forth and put in exercise. "

"I hope it may prove thus, " responded the tender mother. "Let us nowretire to our pleasant chamber, and I will do myself the pleasure oflistening to your rich voice, while you read a portion of Scripture, andsing a sacred hymn. "

Thus mother and daughter retired; and while the old heart that hadpassed beyond the youth-life of love and passion, rested calmly in itstranquil sleep, the young heart by its side throbbed wildly, trembled, wept and sighed; tossing restlessly on its pillow, haunted by ill-omeneddreams and ghastly phantom-shapes too hideous for reality. For there isno rest, or calm, or quiet, for the passion-haunted breast. 

 CHAPTER XII. 

 "'Twas one of love's wild freaks, I do suppose, And who is there can reason upon those? I'd like to see the one so bold. "

The lively winter season was at its height in New Orleans, and all thevast city astir with life and gayety. In the former wealthy home of theCamfords, her wrought slippers resting on the polished grate in theelegant parlor, sat a prim maiden lady, arrayed in steel-colored satin. An embroidered muslin morning-cap was placed with an air of muchprecision over her glossy brown _imported_ locks, and the pointed collararound her neck was secured by a plain bow of fawn-colored ribbon. 

Suddenly the door opened, and a gentleman, of fine personal appearance, and elegantly attired, entered the apartment, with hat and gloves inhand. 

"Where is Winnie?" was the hasty inquiry. 

"I left her in her room half an hour ago, " was the reply. 

"It is quite time we should go;--the theatre will be filled tooverflowing at Miss Julia's benefit, " remarked the gentleman. "I wishyou would go with us, sister. "

"Theatres will do for girls and _fops_, " said the lady; "_my_ mindrequires something solid and weighty to satisfy it. "

"Then I suppose Col. Edmunds suits you exactly, " observed the gentleman, laughing; "he is a real Sir John Falstaff in proportions. "

"I'm in no mood for your frivolous jests. If you were in a rationaltemper I would like to ask you a question. "

"Well, out with it. I'm as rational at thirty as I ever will be, probably. "

"You were becoming quite a decent man before this fly-a-way girl cameamong us. Now I wish to know when she is going away?"

"Heavens! I don't know; not at present, I hope, " said the gentleman, quickly. 

"Well, either she or I will leave pretty soon, " returned the lady, pursing up her lips with a stiff, determined expression; "she is sucha self-willed, obstinate little thing, and turns the house alltopsy-turvy, and makes such a racket and confusion, that I cannot and_will_ not endure it longer. My mind requires quiet for contemplation. "

"Why, she seems to me like a sunbeam; like a canary-bird in the house, sister; warming, and filling it with music. "

"She seems to me more like a hurricane, or wild-cat, " remarked the lady, spitefully. 

The gentleman laughed, and, at this juncture, in bounded the subject ofthe discourse, arrayed in azure silk, a wreath of white flowers on herhead, and a wrought fan swinging by a ribbon at her delicate wrist. 

"Well, I've been waiting for you these ten minutes, " said the gentleman, gazing with admiration on the lovely being before him; "let us go now, or I fear some impertinent person may intrude upon our reserved seats. The carriage is at the door. "

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Lester, " said Winnie. 

"O, no apology, Miss Morris!" returned he, gayly; "gentlemen alwaysexpect to wait for ladies; it is their privilege. "

"Miss Mary, " said Winnie, advancing toward the prim lady by the grate, "I fear I have misplaced some of your toilet articles, for I could notfind one half of mine. The chamber-maid had given them new places, and Itook the liberty to apply to yours, but I'll put them all right in themorning. "

"O, it is very well, of course, " returned the lady, sharply; "plainenough who is mistress here. "

Winnie stood irresolute, gazing with astonishment on Miss Mary's angry, flushed countenance, and at length turned her blue eyes toward thegentleman, who was attentively regarding her features. 

"Come, Winnie, " said he, opening the hall-door, "we shall be very late. "

The young girl quickly followed his direction. "Is brother Wayland to bethere?" she inquired, as the carriage rolled away. 

"I urged his attendance, and he half promised to go, " answered thegentleman; "but, if he fails, cannot you be contented with me alone forone brief evening?"

"O, yes, many!" returned Winnie. "I only wished he would go and notconfine himself to business so closely. "

"I wish he would relax his editorial labors, for his health demands it, I think, " said Mr. Lester. "We must induce him to quit the chair ofoffice, and take a trip up the river this spring. "

"I wish he would leave that dull, tedious printing-office a few weeks, "exclaimed Winnie. "He has long entertained a project of erecting alittle cottage on the shore of Tennessee, where we used to live, forhimself and me, and I think he has sufficient money now to carry hisplan into effect; don't you, Mr. Lester?"

"Undoubtedly he has; but such a proceeding would not please me at all, "answered the gentleman. 

"Why not?" asked Winnie, turning her eyes quickly toward her companion. 

He smiled to meet her startled glance, and said, "I will explain myreasons at some future time, Winnie. We are now at the theatre. "

Mr. Lester handed the fair girl from the carriage, and they made theirway through the crowd. Wayland met them on the steps, and accompaniedthem home after the play. 

As Winnie passed the door of Miss Mary Lester's room to reach her own, she observed it standing wide open, and wondered to behold it thus, asMiss Mary was accustomed to bar and bolt it close, for fear of thievesand housebreakers. But, fatigued and sleepy, she passed on, and soonforgot her surprise after gaining the privacy of her own apartment. Early in the morning she was roused from slumber by a furious knockingon her door. She sprang up and demanded, "Who is there?"

"Me, Miss Winnie, only me--Aunt Eunice; and do you know what is becomeo' Missus Mary?" exclaimed an excited voice without; "her door is wideopen this morning, and nobody slept in her bed last night. "

Winnie was by this time fairly roused, and, opening her door, the poorservant-girl flounced into the room, the very picture of terror andaffright. 

"Has your master risen, and does he know of his sister's absence?"inquired Winnie. 

"No, nobody is up but me, and Missus Mary always tells me to come rightto her room first thing with a pitcher o' cool water; so I went thismornin', you see, and behold missus' door wide open and no missus thar!O, Miss Winnie, I 'spect satin has sperritted off soul and body, 'deed Idoes. "

"O, no, Aunt Eunice, I think not!" said Winnie smiling; "but you hadbetter go to your master and inform him what has occurred. "

"'Deed I will, Miss, " said the black woman, disappearing. 

Winnie proceeded to dress, in a strange perplexity of fear andastonishment, while Aunt Eunice thumped long and loud on her master'sdoor. 

"Who's there?" at last exclaimed a voice within. 

"Me, Aunt Eunice, " said the woman frantically, "O, massa, massa, missusgone, and who's to pour the coffee for breakfast?"

"What are you raving about?" said the master, opening his door; "why areyou disturbing me at this early hour?"

"Missus gone; sperritted off soul and body, I 'spect. "

"What are you talking about?" demanded Lester, not in the leastcomprehending her words. 

"O, just come up to her room and see for yourself. "

"Why, what's to be seen there?" he asked. 

"Nothin' at all, I tells ye. Missus clean gone. Her door wide open, andshe never slept in her bed last night, massa, " said the woman, gaspingfor breath, as she ceased speaking. 

The unusual sounds aroused Wayland, who slept near, and flinging openhis door he demanded what was the matter. 

"O, Master Morris!" said aunt Eunice, turning her discourse upon him, "missus gone--clean gone. "

"Come on, Morris, " said Lester. "Eunice says her mistress is spiritedaway. Let's dive into the mystery and see what we can bring to light. "

Wayland followed Lester up the hall stairs, wondering what this strangedisturbance might import. They traversed the passage to Miss Mary'sapartment, when, sure enough, as Eunice had affirmed, they found thedoor wide open, and, to appearance, no person had occupied the room theprevious night. Lester's quick eye instantly marked, what the servant inher fright had failed to notice, the absence of two large trunks thatused to stand beside the bed, and the _presence_ of a small foldedbillet on the dressing-table. He advanced with a hasty step, broke theseal, and read. 

"Ha, ha!" laughed he, as he run over the contents. "Eunice, go below andlight the fires. "

The woman hastened away. 

"Romance at thirty-seven! elopement extraordinary, Wayland!" hecontinued. "Miss Mary Lester has become in due form Mrs. Col. Edmunds, and 'fled, ' as she expresses it--(now where was the use in _flying_, forwho would have objected to the marriage? But then 'twas romantic, ofcourse)--to the wilds of Texas; there to enjoy the sweets of domesticfelicity with her adored husband; to which fair land she hopes I'll someday come to visit her, when I have regained possession of my senses, andlearnt the difference 'twixt canary-birds and wild-cats. "

Wayland listened with amazement depicted on his features. 

"Strange; all wonder, isn't it, Morris?" pursued Lester. "Let's go belowand discuss the matter. "

The gentlemen descended to the parlor, where Aunt Eunice soon presentedherself, and, with rueful countenance, said:

"Please, massa, who is to pour the coffee this morning? Missus gone, youknow. "

"Well, Eunice, suppose you run up stairs, and ask Miss Winnie if shewill not condescend to perform that office this morning, as we findourselves so suddenly bereft of a housekeeper?" said Lester, in amock-serious tone. 

Winnie of course assented, and passed into the breakfast-room, where shefound her brother and Lester already seated at the table. 

"Good-morning, Miss Morris, " said the latter. "A romance, such as weread of in old knights' tales, was enacted in our house last night, inconsequence of which a forlorn bachelor has to ask of you the favor topreside at his desolate board this morning. "

"I shall be pleased to serve you, " returned Winnie, assuming the head ofthe table, and so prettily did she perform the duties of her new office, that Lester forgot his muffins and sandwiches, in admiration of hisnewly-installed housekeeper _pro tem_. 

Miss Mary's elopement was a three days' wonder, and then the affair wasas if it had never been; save that the servants could not sufficientlyadmire Miss Winnie, or sufficiently rejoice over Miss Mary's departure. "O, " said Aunt Eunice, "don't I wish massa would marry you, Miss Winnie, and then the house would be like heaven--'deed it would!"

 CHAPTER XIII. 

 "We've many things to say within the bounds Of this good chapter, which is 'mong the last; So be of better cheer; for we are well Nigh done. "

We will just step over to Texas this morning, dear reader, for well weknow the mocking-birds are singing sweetly, and the wild geese rise fromthe placid bayous, and flap their broad, white wings over the brightgreen prairies, on their inland flight, and the gentle breezes stir thedark, luxuriant foliage of the wide, primeval forests, while all the airis redolent with the odors of the ocean of flowers that cover the wholesunny land with bloom and beauty. 

It is something more than a year since we parted with Esq. Camford inhis new emigrant home, and now we have another party of friends arrivingin our young "Italy of America, " even the romantic Miss Mary Lester, andher John Falstaff husband; and Fred. Milder, too, has had time to wearoff the edge of his love disappointment on the ridgy hog-wallows of thisfair south-western land. For we don't believe there's another soeffectual antidote in the world for a fit of the blues or love dumps, asa long day's ride in a Texan stage-coach, with three pair of wildmustangs for horses, over these same hog-wallows; to say nothing of theway they despatch jaundice, dyspepsia, and all the host of biliousdiseases. But don't you quite understand what hog-wallows are, reader?Well, Heaven help you then, when you go out south or west, and pitchinto them for the first time! Invoke your patron saint to keep your souland body together, and prevent your limbs from flying off at tangents. 

We will tell you how we once heard a Kentuckian (and God bless theKentucky boys in general, for they are a whole-souled race!) account forthese anomalous things. We were pitching through a group of them, somedozen of us in a miserable wagon, when one "new comer" asked hisneighbor, "What is the cause of these confounded _humps_ in the roads?"

"They are hog-wallows, " responded the one interrogated, in a pompoustone, as if proud to display his superior knowledge of the land intowhich both the speakers had but recently made their advent. 

"Hog-wallows!" exclaimed the man, more in doubt than ever by hisnewly-acquired knowledge, "what makes so many of them then?"

"Why, you see when the great rains come on, " commenced the "wise 'un, ""the country gets all afloat, and when it begins to dry off a little, the wild hogs come by thousands, and roll and flop about in the mud, andthat makes all these pitch-holes, which they call hog-wallows. "

"Why don't they kill the hogs and eat 'em, and not have 'em rooting upthe roads in this awful way?" asked greeny number one. 

"Lord! they do kill and kill, I'm told, " said greeny number two; "butTexas is such an almighty rich country that all sorts o' critters andthings grow up spontaneously everywheres. "

"Creation! but why don't they build fences alongside their roads then!"

"O, they never make fences in Texas; first you'd know a hurricane wouldcome tearing along, and land them all in the Gulf of Mexico, quickerthan you could say 'Old Kentuck. '"

"Stars and gaiters! what a dreadful dangerous country is this we havegot into!" said number two, with a frightened aspect, as they droppedthe subject and relapsed into silence, while it was evident, from theiranxious visages, that their minds were harassed and disturbed, byvisions of hog-wallows, hurricanes and spontaneous animals. 

We have heard other and more philosophical hypotheses as to the originof these uneven roads. Some suppose the country was once an inland sea, and these ridges were occasioned by the continuous action of the waves;others suppose the intense heat of the sun on the soft, clayey soil, caused it to crack and spread asunder, leaving the surface broken andridgy. This latter is the more generally received opinion, we believe. 

Here's half a chapter on hog-wallows, the unpoetical things! but asutilitarians maintain nothing is made but what subserves some purpose, we premise these humpy roads were made for the benefit of gouty men, dyspeptic women, and love-sick lads and lasses. Thus disposed of, "weresume the thread of our narrative, " as novel-writers say. Our pen waxeswild and intractable, whenever we get safely over the stormy gulf, andstand on the shores of bonny, bright Texas; for we feel at home there, hog-wallows, musquitoes, Camanches and all. Let none dare gainsay Texasin our ears, for it is the banner state of all the immaculatethirty-one. Come on, reader, now we have had our say, straight up to thethriving plantation of Esq. Camford, and behold the wonders thiswonderful land can produce upon the characters of nervous, delicately-constituted ladies. That buxom, blooming-matron in the loosegingham wrapper, and muslin morning-cap, who stands on the gallery ofthat new and tastefully-built cottage, all overshaded by the boughs ofthe majestic pecan trees, giving off orders to a brace of shiny-eyedmulatto wenches, who listen with reverential awe and attention, is noneother than the hysterical, shaky-nerved Mrs. Camford, whom we beheldsome two years ago bewailing the fate which had brought her to thisawful place, to be poisoned by snakes, mangled by bears, and murdered byIndians. Listen to her words:

"Thisbe, take the lunch I have placed in the market-basket down to thecotton-field boys, and ask your master to come to the house soon asconvenient; some people from the States are come to visit us:--and you, Hagar, go to the garden and gather a quantity of vegetables for dinner. I will be in the kitchen to assist in their preparation. "

The women bowed, and hastened away on their separate errands. Mrs. Camford now turned to enter the house, when Josephine, her cheeksblooming with health and happiness, came bounding to her mother's side. "O, mamma, the young gentleman, Mr. Milder, knows all about cousinAlice! he has come right from the place in which she resides. He saysshe sent a great deal of love to us all, and desired me to write to her. Perhaps, now we know she remembers us so kindly, you will let me gonorth some time, and pay my long-promised visit. Susette and her husbandtalk of travelling next season, you know. "

All this was uttered in the most lively and animated tone conceivable, and Mrs. Camford smiled, and answered cheerfully, as mother and daughterreëntered the neat, airy parlor, where our heroine of romance, Miss MaryLester, was sitting beside her portly, red-visaged husband, Col. Edmunds, who had, in early life, been a Texan ranger, and acquired sokeen a relish for the wild, exciting scenes of a new country, that hewould not give his hand (his heart we suppose he could not control) tothe fair Mary, unless she would consent to forego the luxuries offashionable life, and follow his fortunes through the perils andvicissitudes of an Indian frontier. She stood out to the last, hopingthe stalwart colonel would yield to her eloquent pleadings, and consentto make his abode in New Orleans; for she conceived that brotherAugustus, having arrived at the sober age of thirty, would never marry, and it would be the finest idea in the world for him to relinquish thesplendid estate he had acquired by his own untiring exertions, to thehands of Col. Edmunds, while she, as the worthy colonel's most estimableconsort, would condescend to assume the direction of the servants andhousehold affairs, and Augustus could thus live wholly at his ease, without a worldly care to distract his breast. What an affectionate, self-sacrificing sister would she be, thus kindly to relieve her brotherat her own expense! But, just as this plan began to ripen for execution, she was counter-plotted, or fancied herself to be, which led to the samedenouement. Winnie Morris came to pass a vacation with her brother, Wayland, and the fore-doomed bachelor, Augustus Lester, most audaciouslydared to fall in love with the cackling girl. So Miss Mary declared; andto remain in her brother's mansion, where she had hitherto exercisedunlimited sway, under such a little minx of a mistress, was too much forhuman nature to endure; so, all on a sudden, she yielded in full to themajestic colonel's wishes, and "cut sticks" for Texas, flying, as manyof us often do, from an imaginary evil, and leaving behind poor littleWinnie, innocent and unsuspecting as a lamb, with the great coffee-urnin her trembling hand. How long the fair girl remained thus innocent andunsuspecting, we are yet to know. 

"So you are from New Orleans, Col. Edmunds, " remarked Mrs. Camford. "Ido not recollect of ever having met you there; but to see any personfrom our former home, though personally strangers, affords us pleasureand gratification. "

"I have only resided in New Orleans about six months, madam, " returnedCol. Edmunds; "the most of my life has been spent in camp and field. "

"My husband is a soldier, " said Mrs. Edmunds, "and we are now on our wayto the Indian frontier. "

"Indeed! and how do you think you will relish frontier life?" asked Mrs. Camford. 

"O, I shall be contented anywhere with my husband!"

"Just married, madam, and desperately in love yet, " said the colonel. "Always lived in the city, and thought it the greatest piece of audacityin the world when I informed her I was going to stop at the residence ofa private gentleman with whom I was not in the least acquainted, to baitmy mules and get dinner. Not a bit acquainted with the Texan elephant, you see, madam. "

"Heaven save me, Samuel! do people in this country associate withelephants?" exclaimed the bride, with the prettiest display of horrifiedsurprise. 

"To be sure; I had one for a bed-fellow six or eight months when I firstcame out here, " returned the husband, with perfect serenity. 

"O, my soul, I hope I shall never see one!" said the young wife, nestling closer to her husband's side. 

The colonel laughed heartily, and all joined in his merriment. 

"You should not alarm new-comers by such bug-bear tales, " remarked Mrs. Camford, at length. "This young gentleman, Mr. Milder, is just from thenorth. "

"Indeed! well, he looks as if he might soon learn how to grapple withelephants and tigers both, " said the colonel, glancing on the youngman's countenance. 

"Tigers!" exclaimed Mrs. Edmunds, taking fresh alarm; "do thoseferocious creatures grow here too?"

"Yes, everything grows here, Mary, about five times as large as anywhereelse, " answered the bluff colonel. "But what say, young man, to going upon the frontier with me, and seeing a bit of soldier life? You'd get tosee the whole elephant there, teeth, trunk and all. "

"Why will you keep talking about that dreadful monster?" said the youngwife, who had brought a few nerves along with her. "You'll terrify me todeath, Samuel. "

"You must get used to the critters, Mary, and the quicker the better, isall I have to say, " returned the husband, patting her cheek. 

Esquire Camford now entered, dinner was served, and the conversationtook a higher tone. Esquire C. Spoke of the country, its fertility, rapid improvement, and exhaustless resources. Fred. Milder began to feelan interest in a land with prospects so brilliant, and accepted withpleasure Col. Edmunds' invitation to travel on westward in company withhim. The travellers were persuaded to pass the night; and during thevisit Mrs. Camford came to know that Mrs. Edmunds was a sister of theMr. Lester who had purchased her former sumptuous residence from thehands of the creditors, at the time of their failure in New Orleans. Still the knowledge did not waken regretful feelings, or excite a pangof envy in her breast; for she had learned to regard a cottage withcontent as better than wealth and pomp with pride and misery to distractthe spirit. 

The morrow dawned beautifully. Round and red the sun arose beyond thefar, green prairie, when the mules and carriages were brought to thedoor, and the little party of travellers recommenced their journey. Fred. Milder cast a lingering glance after the pretty Josephine, as shewished him a delightful tour up the country, and bade him not forget tocall and give her an account of all his adventures on his return. Hepromised faithfully not to forget, and, with kind adieus, the partymoved on their way. 

Josephine sat down after her usual morning tasks were completed, andindited a long epistle to her cousin Alice; giving a general descriptionof her Texan home; not failing to mention her mother's happy recoveryfrom nerves, and Susette's marriage with a promising young planter; alsothe pleasant visit they had enjoyed from Mr. Milder; and ended by sayingshe hoped another season, when papa was a little richer, to make herlong-contemplated visit to the north. 

 CHAPTER XIV. 

 "Youth, love and beauty, all were hers, Why should she not be happy?"

Where would you like to go now, reader? We are desirous to take you bythe path that will lead through this story by the shortest cut, and, aswe dare not doubt but that will be the course of all others mostgrateful to your tastes and feelings, we'll clear Texas at a bound, forthere'll blow a whistling "Norther" there soon, we apprehend, and thatwould tangle our hair worse than it is tangled now, and we have not hadtime to comb it since this story commenced. So, imagine "Effie, " dearreader, with her brown locks wisped up in the most unbecoming mannerpossible, a calico morning-gown wrapped loosely about her, and not overclean, her fingers grimmed with pencil-dust, and her nose too, perhaps--for she has a fashion of rubbing that useful organ, for ideas, or something else, we know not what. 

Just imagine this, reader, and if you don't throw down the story inactual disgust, you'll be more anxious to get through it than we areeven. 

Now away with episode, and here are we in the fair "Crescent City"again, at the palace-like residence of Augustus Lester, Esq. The lord ofthe mansion is at home, reclining on a silken sofa, which is drawnbefore one of the deep, bloom-shaded windows of the elegantdrawing-room. He is in genial, after-dinner mood, and that fairy-lookingbeing, sitting by his side on a low ottoman, is our former friend, Winnie Morris. But she bears another name now, for she has been threemonths a wife--Augustus Lester's girl-bride!

Were that affectionate sister's misgivings of her bachelor brother'sintentions toward that wild-cat girl altogether chimerical, then?Present appearances would indicate them not to have been altogethergroundless; but really, when the fair Mary fled so precipitately, theidea of making Winnie Morris his bride had never entered her brother'scranium. He had regarded her as a pretty child, and delighted in hersunshiny, buoyant spirit, and felt he would like to keep her near tocheer and enliven his mansion; but from the moment he saw her presidingwith so much quiet dignity and grace at his table, on that eventfulmorning, he resolved to win her heart if possible. The task was by nomeans difficult, for an object to which we look up with gratitude andreverence, 'tis next to impossible not to love. She forgot, in herdevotion to the lofty, high-souled man, her childish fancy for thefrivolous-minded boy, and when Wayland, on her bridal morning, askedmischievously, "Where was Jack Camford vanished?" she replied, "In agold mine beyond the seas, I suppose, brother; but why mention his nameto make discord on this happy hour?"

"It is strange Wayland does not return, " remarked Augustus, at length, rousing from a light doze, and drawing his young wife close to his side. 

"I thought you were fast asleep, Auguste, " said she; "and here I havebeen fanning you so attentively, to keep the mosquitoes away. Well, itis time for Wayland to come, isn't it? He has been absent more than twomonths. You know how he chided me for breaking the promise I made to bemistress of that pretty cottage he proposed to build up in Tennessee. Perhaps he is erecting it, and intends to dwell there in proud, regretful solitude. "

"Or, perhaps he is in search of some fair lady to be its mistress, whomay prove less recreant to her promise, " suggested Lester. 

"May be so, " returned Winnie, laughing. 

"I look for a letter from him every day, " remarked the husband; "therewas a mail-boat in when I came up to dinner. I'll call at thepost-office this evening; very possibly one has arrived. "

"I hope so, " answered Winnie. 

The bell now rang, and company was announced. Leaving the young coupleto entertain their guests, we have stolen away in search of the absentWayland, and bring him once more on the tapis, to give some account ofhis protracted wanderings, and learn what are his hopes and prospectsfor the future. By what devious track we shall be pleased to pursue therover, our next chapter will reveal. 

 CHAPTER XV. 

 "O, Charity, what art thou? Mystic thing!"

Being rather benevolently inclined ourselves, we feel a desire to lookin once more upon the "Ladies Literary Benevolent Combination forForeign Aid, " which is to-day congregated at the residence of Mrs. Rachel Stebbins, president of this humane and Christian body. She issitting in majestic presence on her throne of office, with hergold-bowed spectacles astride her stately nose, and her devoted subjectsclustering around her, their tongues and fingers nimble as ever in thegood cause of universal philanthropy. Prominent in the ranks is Mrs. Sykes, while ever following her, like a shadow, is her bosom friend, Miss Jerusha Sharpwell. Mrs. Fleetfoot also appears in the rear; a sortof shadow of a shade, or refrain to the song. Little Miss Gaddiecomposes and sings alone now; her sister, Miss Pamela, havingaccompanied her missionary husband to the shores of benighted Bengal, toaid in his labors for the conversion of the heathen world. 

"Well, " said Miss Jerusha, as she sank down in a soft-cushioned chairbeside Mrs. Sykes, with a pair of checked muslin night-caps in her hand;"what's the good word with you, sister, these suffocating days?"

"La! nothing, sister Jerusha, as I know of. My girl, Hannah, has goneoff and left me, so I have to keep close at home and slave myself withhard work all the time, and have no opportunity to learn what's going onabout town, " answered Mrs. Sykes, in a doleful voice. 

"Why, where has your girl, Hannah, gone?" asked Miss Jerusha, sympathetically; "I never heard a word about her leaving your service. "

"She didn't leave me of her own free will;--catch Hannah to go away fromthis roof, unless she was bejuggled by other folks. But she'll repenther rashness when 'tis too late, I'm afeard, " said Mrs. Sykes. 

"Why, didn't you know Hannah Smith had gone to work for the widowOrville?" inquired Mrs. Fleetfoot, looking up from the blue yarn sockshe was knitting, which was destined, no doubt, to convert somehalf-naked Burman boy from the errors of paganism. "La, I heard of it afortnight ago!"

"You did, --did you, Mrs. Fleetfoot?" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes, in rather ahasty tone; for a mild-hearted Christian; "well, she hasn't been gonefrom me a week yet. "

"Do tell! Well, I heard she thought of going, then, or something likeit, I can't exactly remember what, " drawled Mrs. Feetfoot, not a whitdisconcerted by the contradiction her words had received. 

"So Mrs. Orville coaxed Hannah away from you?" said Miss Jerusha. 

"Yes, just as the summer's work was coming on, too; but she'll have tosuffer for it, " said Mrs. Sykes, with a fearfully resigned expression ofcountenance. 

"Of course she will, " returned Miss Sharpwell; "but what could Mrs. Orville want with a hired girl, --nobody but herself and Alice in thefamily? It seems a selfish, malicious desire to inconvenience you, hercoaxing Hannah off. "

"La!" put in Mrs. Fleetwood, "didn't you know Mrs. Orville had got awhole houseful of company from the south? I knew it a month ago. "

"She hasn't got anybody in the world but two cousins of Alice's, and ahusband of one of them, and they haven't been there a week, tillto-morrow evening, " said Mrs. Sykes. 

"O, is that all? Well, I heard something about it, I couldn't exactlyrecollect what it was, " again drawled Mrs. Fleetfoot, closing the toe ofher yarn sock, and holding it up to admire the proportions; no doubtbreathing a silent prayer that it might be useful in saving some "soulfrom death. "

"Well, Mrs. Fleetfoot, " observed Mrs. Sykes, "did you know that Fred. Milder had come home from Texas to marry Alice Orville?"

"La, yes!" responded that Christian lady; "that's an old story, everybody knows. "

"Why, I never heard of it before, " said Miss Jerusha, pinning a littleblue bow on the top of the muslin cap, to make it look _tasty_, as sheobserved. 

"Neither did I, " answered Mrs. Sykes, casting, as we thought, but itcould not be, however, a glance of malicious triumph on Mrs. Fleetfoot;"but he travelled home in company with Mrs. Orville's visitors, and Ioften see him walking on the lake-shore with the young, unmarried lady, Miss Josephine, I believe, is her name; and I just thought in my ownmind that would be a match. "

"Very likely, " said Miss Jerusha. 

"Well, I remember now, 'twas that strange lady I heard he was engagedto, and not Miss Alice, " remarked Fleetfoot, with perfect equanimity;"and Alice, they say, has got a beau off south, and that's what makesher so mopish at times. "

"Perhaps it is as sister Fleetfoot says, " observed Jerusha; "for Aliceis certainly changed from what she used to be. She never attends ourcircle now, and seldom goes to church. I wonder how she does pass hertime?"

"'Tis more than I can tell, " answered Mrs. Sykes; "there was alwayssomething mysterious about those Orvilles, to me. But I shall be obligedto go home, sister Jerusha, to attend to my work, as I've no servant, "continued the wronged lady, rising, and depositing her work in thetreasurer's box. 

"I'm sorry you must go, sister Sykes, " said Jerusha; "but be of goodcheer, and I'll drop in and see you in the course of the week. "

"Pray, do, sister Sharpwell; I need all the aid and sympathy ofChristian hearts to sustain my soul, " said Mrs. Sykes, with a ruefullypious countenance, as she took her departure. 

The meeting progressed. Fast flew the nimble fingers of the devotedlaborers in the good cause; and could the poor heathen have known whatmighty exertions this band of benevolent, self-denying females, whobasked in the noontide glory of the sun of righteousness, were makingfor their liberation from the thrall of pagan darkness and superstition, we doubt not that they would have prostrated themselves by millionsbefore the shrine of their great idol, Juggernaut, and devoutly invokedhim to pardon and forgive the poor, deluded victims of a false religion, and bring them all under his sublime sway and holy dominion. 

At length, Miss Gaddie was called on to sing the parting hymn. The ladypresident delivered herself of a most eloquent and oratorical harangue, during which the benevolent rose to a tremendous pitch, which nothingcould calm off but the call to supper. 

This well-furnished meal dispensed, the "Ladies' Literary BenevolentCombination for Foreign Aid" adjourned to the next Wednesday, at thehouse of Mrs. Dorothy Sykes, Highflyer Street; which Christian ladywas aghast with terror and dismay, when she learned this batch ofbenevolence was assigned over to her for its next meeting. 

"O, mercy!" she feelingly exclaimed; "and I've no girl to assist me, andmy house will be turned topsy-turvy, new parlor carpet ruined, --and, besides, they'll eat us out of house and home, and Mr. Sykes is _so_close-fisted!"

"But I hope 'twill be a rainy day, " she added, by way of consolation. 

Truly, benevolence does cost a great deal!

 CHAPTER XVI. 

 "My task is done; my song hath ceased; my theme Has died into an echo. It is fit The spell should break of this protracted dream. The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit My midnight lamp, --and what is writ, is writ; Would it were worthier, but I am not now That which I have been, and my visions flit Less palpably before me--and the glow Which in my spirit dwelt, is fluttering, faint and low. "

The cousins, Alice Orville and Josephine Camford, sat together in avine-clad arbor on the shore of Lake Erie. 

"I cannot express the joy I feel at beholding you again, dear Pheny;learning of your welfare, and finding you so happy in the contemplationof the future, " said Alice. 

"None can tell what the future may bring, " answered Josephine. "All isvague and uncertain. I never believe anything is to be mine till Ireally possess it. "

"And so you won't believe Fred. Milder is yours till the nuptial knot istied?" said Alice, smiling. 

"No, not fully, --not without a shadow of doubt, " returned Josephine, laughing in turn. 

"But, Alice, when are you going to get married?"

"Never!" was the quick response. 

"Nonsense! Where's that pale, intellectual young man, who used to callso frequently on you when you first arrived in New Orleans?"

"I have never seen or heard from him since I returned home, " answeredAlice, averting her face. 

"That's nothing to the purpose, cous. I see you have not forgotten him. "

"O, no!"

"And never will?"

"I can't say that. "

"I can, though. Come, let's return to the house. I suspect Fred. Iswaiting for me to take my promised stroll on the lake shore. How do youlike sister Susette's husband, Alice?"

"I think him a very accomplished gentleman, " replied Alice, as theywalked toward the house. 

"So I think, " said Josephine. "His superior could hardly be found in anyof our large cities. Did you know poor Celestina had heard from herfaithless husband? He pleads for forgiveness and promises to return ifshe will receive him. It appears he and brother Jack have amassed alarge fortune in Australia. "

"Indeed! I am rejoiced to hear so good tidings of the adventurers. IsCelestina still in the convent to which she retired?"

"She is; but proposes to leave it and accompany us to Texas on ourreturn to that country. Whether she will receive her husband I cannotsay, but will hazard an opinion that, should she one day behold him ather feet imploring pardon, love would overpower all remembrance offormer wrongs. But there's Fred. , " added the joyous-hearted girl. "Imust away to meet him. "

"Where?" asked Alice, gazing on all sides. 

"There, walking down that avenue of poplars!" returned Josephine. "I sawhim some moments since, "--love is so quick-sighted when its object is athand, and so abstracted when it is at a distance, --and Josephine hurriedaway to meet her lover, leaving Alice to stroll onward by herself. Presently, Hannah, the servant-girl that Mrs. Sykes, the benevolentlady, averred had been "bejuggled" from her by Mrs. Orville, camethrough the garden at full speed, exclaiming, "Miss Alice, there be agentleman in the parlor waitin' to see ye!"

On hearing this message, Alice accelerated her steps to reach the house, and retired to her room a few moments to adjust her dress beforeentering the presence of her visitor. 

Reader! that truant-knight, for whom we went in search so long ago, isfound at last. 

 * * *

Far down "_la belle riviere_" floated the fairy white steamboat on itswinding-way to Louisville, while the joy-groups danced and sung by theclear moonlight over the airy decks. 

And now once more adown the proud-rolling Mississippi, we see that"floating-palace, " the Eclipse, cutting her way through the foamywaters. How, all day long, the verdure-clad shores smile up to theclear, cerulean heaven that arches above! And how the moonbeams pourtheir silvery light down on the sleeping earth! and all the while, bynight and day, the boat sweeps proudly onward. 

Among the hundreds of passengers that roam the decks and guards, werecognize two familiar faces; and our eyes love to linger on them, forthey are redolent with happiness. One of them is that of the dreamy, abstracted girl we noticed years ago, leaning over the balustrades ofthis same queenly boat as she approached New Orleans. But she was alonethen. Now; a manly form is bending over her, and whispering words wecannot hear; nor do we need to hear them to know they carry joy to thelistening ear, for her dark eye glows with happiness, as she looksconfidingly in the face of the speaker, and utters something whichbrings the same joy-light over his fine, intellectual features. 

Now you do not wish us to tell you, reader, that Wayland Morris andAlice Orville are man and wife; and that they, in company with Fred. Milder and wife, and Susette and husband, are bound for New Orleans, tosurprise Winnie Lester in her regal home. Your intuition has revealedall this to you e'er now, and you have pictured in your minds how blankwith amazement young Mrs. Lester's pretty face will be when she beholdsthis "family-group" in her elegant drawing-room, all eager to welcomeand be welcomed, and overflowing with exuberant life and gladness, aspeople ordinarily are when they get safely off one of those beautiful, but treacherous western steam-palaces. 

All this your vivid imaginations will easily portray in far more glowingand picturesque colors than our poor pencil can paint. So we leave youto conjure up all the bright visions you choose with which to deck thefutures of our young debutants in the great drama of wedded life. Andsome of you young writers, who thirst for fame's thorny laurels, maytouch your inspired pens to paper, and give us a sequel to this hasty, ill-finished tale, a true production of our "fast" age. 

In conclusion, let us say, that years after these events transpired, asthe "Eclipse" passed up and down the Mississippi, on her trips to andfrom New Orleans, the jocular clerk was wont to call the attention ofhis passengers to a beautiful English cottage, surrounded by vines andshrubbery, which stood on the Tennessee shore, and exclaim, "Thedwellers in that cottage learned their first lesson of love on theguards of the Eclipse. "

 COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING. 

 A SONG. 

 Come to me when I'm dying; Gaze on my wasted form, Tired with so long defying Life's ever-rushing storm. Come, come when I am dying, And stand beside my bed, Ere yet my soul is flying, And I am cold and dead. 

 Bend low and lower o'er me, For I've a word to say Though death is just before me, Ere I can go away. Now that my soul is hovering Upon the verge of day, For thee I'll lift the covering That veils its quivering ray. 

 O, ne'er had I thus spoken In health's bright, rosy glow! But death my pride hath broken, And brought my spirit low. Though now this last revealing Quickens life's curdling springs, And a half-timid feeling Faint flushes o'er me flings. 

 Bend lower yet above me, For I would have thee know How passing well I love thee, And joy to tell thee so. This love, so purely welling Up in this heart of mine, O, hath it e'er found dwelling Within thy spirit's shrine?

 I've prayed my God, in meekness, To give me some control Over this earthly weakness That so enthralled my soul; And now my soul rejoices While sweetly-thrilling strains, From low, harmonious voices, Soothe all my dying pains. 

 They sing of the Eternal, Whose throne is far above, Where zephyrs softly vernal Float over bowers of love; Of hopes and joys, earth-blighted, Blooming 'neath cloudless skies, Of hearts and souls united In love that never dies. 

 'Tis there, 'tis there I'll meet thee When life's brief day is o'er; O, with what joy to greet thee On that eternal shore! Farewell! for death is chilling My pulses swift and fast; And yet in God I'm willing This hour should be my last. 

 Sometimes, when day declineth, And all the gorgeous west In gold and purple shineth, Go to my place of rest; And if thy voice in weeping, Is borne upon the air, Think not of me as sleeping; All cold and silent there:--

 But turn, with glances tender, Toward a shining star, Whose rays with chastened splendor Fall on thee from afar. And know the blissful dwelling Where I am waiting thee, When Jordan fiercely swelling Shall set thy spirit free. 

 ELLEN. 

 Sweet star, of seraph brightness, That for a transient day Shed o'er our souls such lightness, And then withdrew the ray! O, with immortal lustre Thou 'rt sparkling brightly now Amid the gems that cluster Around Jehovah's brow!

 Yet many hearts are keeping Lone vigils o'er thy grave, Where all the hopes are sleeping Which thy young promise gave. The sleep which knows no waking Hath closed thy sweet blue eyes, And while our hearts are breaking We glance toward the skies. 

 Ah! there a hope is given That bids us dry the tear; That bright star in the heaven, With beams so wondrous clear;-- 'Tis Ellen's "distant Aidenn, " Far in the realms above, And those clear rays are laden With her pure spirit's love. 

 I'M TIRED OF LIFE. 

 I'm tired, I'm tired of life, brother! Of all that meets my eye; And my weary spirit fain would pass To worlds beyond the sky. For there is naught on earth, brother, For which I'd wish to live; Not all the glittering gauds of wealth One hour of peace can give. 

 I'm weary, --sick at heart, brother, Of heartless pomp and show! And ever comes some cloud to dim The little joy I know. This world is not the world, brother, It seemed in days agone, When I viewed it through the rainbow mists Of childhood's rosy dawn. 

 I would not pain your heart, brother-- I know you love me well; And that love is laid upon my soul, E'en as a holy spell. But I'm weary of this world, brother, This world of sin and care; And my spirit fluttereth to be free, To mount the upper air!

 I know not of the world, brother, To which I wish to go; And perhaps my soul may there awake To know a deeper woe! They say the pure of earth, brother, Find there undying bliss; While all the wicked ones are cast Into a dark abyss!

 I look upon the stars, brother, That gem the vault of blue; And when they tell me "God is love, " I feel it must be true; For I see on all around, brother, The impress of a hand That blendeth and uniteth all In one harmonious band. 

 I am that which I am, brother, As the Creator made; To _Him_, all-holy and all-pure, No fault can e'er be laid. He knows my weakness well, brother, And I can trust his love To bear me safe through Jordan's stream To brighter worlds above. 

 LINES TO A FRIEND, ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE. 

 The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill, As standing by my window I gaze there long and still. I see a roof and a chimney, and some tall elms standing near, While the winds that sway their branches bring voices to my ear. 

 They tell of a darkened hearth-stone, that once shone bright and gay, And of old familiar faces that have sadly passed away; How a stranger on the threshold with careless aspect stands, And gazes on the acres that have passed into his hands. 

 I shudder, as these voices, so fraught with mournful woe, Steal on my spirit's hearing, in cadence sad and low, And think I will not hear them--but, ah! who can control The gloomy thoughts that enter and brood upon the soul?

 So, turning from my window, while darkness deepens round, And the wailing winds sweep onward with yet more piteous sound, I feel within my bosom far wilder whirlwinds start, And sweep the cloudy heaven that bends above my heart. 

 I have no power to quell them; so let them rage and roar, The sooner will their raging and fury all be o'er; I've seen Atlantic's billows 'neath tempests fiercely swell, But O, the calm succeeding, I have no words to tell!

 I think of you, and wonder if you are happy now; Floats there no shade of sorrow at times across your brow? When daily tasks are ended, and thought is free to roam, Doth it not bear you swiftly back to that dear old home?

 And then, with wizard fingers, doth Memory open fast A thrilling panorama of all the changeful past! Where blending light and shadow skip airy o'er the scene, Painting in vivid contrast what is and what has been. 

 And say, does not your mother remember yet with tears The spot where calm and peaceful have lapsed so many years? O, would some kindly spirit might give us all to know How much a tender parent will for a child forego!

 We prized your worth while with us; but now you're gone from sight, We feel "how blessings brighten while they are taking flight. " O, don't forget the homestead upon the pleasant hill; Nor yet the love-lit home you have in all our memories still!

 Come, often come to visit the haunts your childhood knew! We pledge you earnest welcome, unbought, unfeigned and true. And when before your vision new hopes and pleasure rise, Turn sometimes with a sunny thought toward your native skies!

 HO FOR CALIFORNIA!

 Rouse ye, Yankees, from your dreaming! See that vessel, strong and bold, On her banner proudly streaming, California for gold! See a crowd around her gather, Eager all to push from land! They will have all sorts o' weather Ere they reach the golden strand. Rouse to action, Fag and faction; Ho, for mines of wealth untold! Rally! Rally! All for Cali- Fornia in search of gold! Away, amid the rush and racket, Ho for the California packet!

 Wake ye! O'er the surging ocean, Loud above each coral cave, Comes a sound of wild commotion From the lands beyond the wave. Riches, riches, greater--rarer, Than Golconda's far-famed mines; Ho for California's shores! Where the gold so brightly shines. O'er the ocean All's commotion; Ho for mines of wealth untold! Countless treasure Waits on pleasure; Ho for California's gold! Let us go the rush and racket, On the Californian packet. 

 Hear the echo wildly ringing Through our country far and wide! Thousands leaving home and springing Into the resistless tide. Now our nation's roused from sleeping, All alert and wide awake. O, there's no such thing as keeping Folks asleep when gold's the stake! Old Oregon We'll look not on; Ho, for mines of wealth untold! We'll take our way, Without delay, In search of gold--of glittering gold! Here we go, amid the racket, On the Californian packet!

 Yankees! all who have the fever, Go the rush without delay! Take a spade and don your beaver; Tell your friends you must away! You will get a sight o' money; Reap perhaps a hundred-fold! O, it would be precious funny To sit in a hall of gold! Let's be going, Gales are blowing, Ho, all hands for digging gold! Romance throwing Colors glowing Round these mines of wealth untold! Ho, we go amid the racket, On the Californian packet!

 N. P. ROGERS. 

 Rogers, will not future story Tell thy glorious fame? And in hues of living glory Robe thy spotless name?

 There was more than mortal seeming In thy wondrous eye, -- Like a silv'ry star-ray gleaming Through a liquid _sky_. 

 Of that angel spirit telling, Noble, clear and bright, In thy "inner temple" dwelling, Veiled from mortal sight!

 Of that spirit meek and lowly, Yet so bold and free, In its all-absorbing, holy, Love of Liberty. 

 Thou didst leave us, gentle brother, In thy manhood's pride; And we vainly seek another Heart so true and tried!

 Thou art dwelling with the angels In the spirit land! Chanting low and sweet evangels, 'Mid a seraph band. 

 But when Freedom's champions rally 'Gainst the despot's sway, Then they mourn the friend and ally That has passed away. 

 And when Liberty's bright banner Waves o'er land and sea, And is heard the loud hosanna Of the ransomed free, --

 On its silken folds, in letters Traced with diamond bright, Shall thy name, the foe of fetters, Blaze in hues of light!

 LINES. 

 I hied me to the ocean-side; Its waves rolled bright and high; Upon its waters, spreading wide, I gazed with beaming eye. At last, at last, I said, is found A charm to banish pain, -- Here, where the sprightly billows bound Athwart the heaving main. 

 The pebbly beach I wandered o'er At morn and evening's hour, Or listening to the breakers' roar, Or wondering at their power. Beneath their din I madly sought, With ev'ry nerve bestirred, To drown for aye the demon, thought, -- But, ah! he _would be heard_. 

 He found a voice my ear to reach, To pierce my aching breast, In every wave that swept the beach With proud, defiant crest. And when the moon, with silver light, Smiled o'er the waters blue, It seemed to say "There's nothing bright O'er all this earth for you. "

 Scarce half a moon have I been here, Beside the sounding sea, In hope its echoings in my ear Might drown out memory; Or might instil some vital life Into this feeble frame, Long spent and wasted by the strife Wide-wrought against my name. 

 In vain, in vain!--nor sea, nor shore, Nor any mortal thing, Can to my cheek health's bloom restore, Or clear my life's well-spring. And yet there is a sea whose waves Will roll above us all, -- Within its vasty depths are graves Beyond all mortal call. 

 With what an awful note of dirge This shoreless ocean rolls-- Bearing on its tremendous surge The wealth of human souls! ----The Ocean of Eternity, -- O, let its billows sweep O'er one that longeth to be free, And sleep the dreamless sleep!

 HENRY CLAY. 

 Wail, winds of summer, as ye sweep The arching skies; O, let your echoes swell with deep, Woe-piercing cries!

 Old ocean, with a heavy surge, Cold, black and drear, Roll thou the solemn note of dirge On Europe's ear!

 Sweet stars, that calmly, purely bright, Look down below, O, pity with your eyes of light A Nation's woe!

 Thou source of day, that rollest on Though tempests frown, Thou mind'st us of another sun That has gone down!

 Gone down, --no more may mortal eye Its face behold! Gone down, --yet leaving on the sky A tinge of gold!

 Ah, yes! Columbia, pause to hear The note of dread; 'Twill smite like iron on the ear;-- Our Clay is dead!

 Our Clay; the patriot, statesman, sage, The Nation's pride, With giant minds of every age Identified!

 That form of manliness and strength In Senate hall, Is lying at a fearful length Beneath the pall!

 That voice of eloquence no more Suspends the breath; Its matchless power to charm is o'er-- 'Tis hushed in death!

 Thrice noble spirit! can we bow, And kiss the rod? With resignation yield thee now Back to thy God?

 And where, where shall we turn to find Now thou 'rt at rest, A soul so lofty, just and kind, As warmed thy breast?

 We bear thee, with a flood of tears, Unto thy tomb; There thou must sleep till rolling years Have met their doom!

 But thy bright fame and memory Shall send a chime From circling ages down to the Remotest time!

 O, may thy mantle fall on some Of this our day, And shed upon the years to come A happy ray!

 THE SOUL'S DESTINY. 

 In the liquid vault of ether hung the starry gems of light, Blazing with unwonted splendor on the ebon brow of night; Far across the arching concave like a train of silver lay, Nebulous, and white, and dreamy, heaven's star-wrought Milky Way. 

 I was gazing, gazing upward, all my senses captive fraught, From the earnest contemplation of celestial glories caught, When the thought arose within me, as the ages onward roll What may be th' eternal portion of the vast, th' immortal soul?

 When the crimson tide of Nature ceases from its ruddy flow, And these decaying bodies mouldering are so cold and low, And the loathsome grave-worm feeding on the still and pulseless heart, Where may be the immortal spirit, what may be its deathless part?

 Deep and far within the ether stretched my eyes their anxious gaze, While the swelling thoughts within me grew a wild and wildered maze, Then came floating on the distance, softly to my listening ears, Low, thrilling harmonies of worlds whirling in their bright spheres. 

 From the sparkling orb of Venus, sweetest star that gems the blue, Soon a form of seraph beauty burst upon my raptured view; Wavy robes were floating round her, and her richly-clustering hair Lay like golden-wreathed moonbeams round her forehead young and fair. 

 Then a company of seraphs gathered round this form so bright, And unfurled their snowy pinions in those realms of crystal light, Sweeping swiftly onward, onward with their music-breathing wings, Till they passed the distant orbit where the mighty Neptune swings. 

 Then from stormy, wild Orion, to the dragon's fiery roll, And the sturdy Ursa Major tramping round the Boreal pole, On to stately Argo Navis rearing diamond spars on high, Starry bands of seraph wanderers clove the azure of the sky. 

 Lofty awe and adoration all my throbbing bosom filled, Every pulse and nerve in nature with ecstatic wonder thrilled. O, were these bright, shining millions disembodied human souls, That casting off earth's fettering bonds had gained immortal goals!

 On each face there beamed a brightness mortal words can ne'er rehearse, Seemed it the concentred glory of the boundless universe. O, 'twas light, 'twas love, 'twas wisdom, science, knowledge, all combined, 'Twas the ultimate perfection of the God-like human mind!

 One by one the constellations sank below the horizon's rim, And with grief I found my starry vision growing earthly dim; While all the thrilling harmonies, that filled the air around, Died off in far, sweet echoings, within the dark profound. 

 Bowing then with lowly seeming on the damp and dewy sod, All my soul in adoration floated up to Nature's God, While the struggling thoughts within me found voice in earnest prayer; "Almighty Father, let my soul one day those glories share!"

 LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND. 

 There are flowers that never wither, There are skies that never fade, There are trees that cast forever Cooling bowers of leafy shade. There are silver wavelets flowing, With a lulling sound of rest, Where the west wind softly blowing Fans the far lands of the blest. 

 Thitherward our steps are tending, Oft through dim, oppressive fears, More of grief than pleasure blending In the darkening woof of years. Often would our footsteps weary Sink upon the winding way, But that, when all looks most dreary, O'er us beams a cheering ray. 

 Thus the Father who hath made us Tenants of this world of care, Knoweth how to kindly aid us, With the burdens we must bear. Knoweth how to cause the spirit Hopefully to raise its eyes Toward the home it doth inherit Far beyond the azure skies. 

 There's a voice that whispers lowly, Down within this heart of mine, Where emotions the most holy Ever make their sacred shrine; And it tells a thrilling story Of the Great Redeemer's love, And the all-bewildering glory Of the better land above. 

 O, this life, with all its sorrows, Hasteth onward to a close! In a few more brief to-morrows Will have ended all our woes. Then o'er death the part immortal Shall sublimely rise and soar O'er the star-resplendent portal, There to dwell for evermore. 

 May we meet, no more to sever, Where the weary are at rest, Far beyond dark Jordan's river, In the Canaan of the blest. Guard the treasures God hath given To thy tenderest nurturing care, And upon the fields of heaven Thou shalt see them blooming fair. 

 NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS. 

 Methinks I hear those tuneful chimes, Borne on the breath of morn, Proclaiming to the silent world Another Sabbath born. With solemn sound they echo through The stilly summer air, Winning the heart of wayward man Unto the house of prayer!

 New England's sweet church-going bells, Their memory's very dear; And oft in dreams we seem to hear Them ringing loud and clear. Again we see the village-spire Pointing toward the skies; And hear our reverend pastor tell Of life that never dies!

 We see him moving down the aisle, In light subdued and dim; The while the organ's swelling notes Chant forth the grateful hymn. The forms of those our childhood knew, By meadow, grove and hill, Are gathering round with kindly looks, As if they loved us still!

 In careless hours of gladsome youth, 'Twas our thrice-blessed lot, To dwell upon New England's shores, Where God is not forgot. Where temples to his name are raised, And where, on bended knee, The Christian sends to heavenly courts The worship of the free!

 New England's Sabbath chimes!--we love Upon those words to dwell; They fall upon our spirits with A sweetly-soothing spell, Bringing to mind those brighter days When hope beamed on our way, And life seemed to our souls but one Pure and unclouded day!

 New England's Sabbath bells!--when last We heard their merry chime, The air was rife with pleasant sounds; For 'twas the glad spring-time! The robin to those tuneful peals Poured forth a thrilling strain; O, 'tis our dearest hope to hear Those Sabbath bells again!

 For now we're many a weary mile From that New England home; In lands where laughing summer lies, Our wandering footsteps roam. But yet those sweetly-chiming bells Those heavenward-pointing spires, Awaken e'er the brightest glow From memory's vestal-fires. 

 MY HEART. 

 List I to the hurried beatings Of my heart; How its quickened, loud repeatings Make me start!

 Often do I hear it throbbing Fast and wild; As I've heard it, after sobbing, When a child. 

 Why so wild, so swift and heated, Little heart? Is there something in thee seated, Baffling art?

 Pain with all thy throbs is blended-- Pain so dread! Oftentimes life seems suspended By a thread!

 Then thou'lt grow so still--like ocean In its rest;-- Till I scarce can feel a motion In my breast. 

 Think'st thy house is dark and dreary, Veiled in night? Art thou pining, sad and weary, For the light?

 Wouldst be free from the dominions That control; Spreading all thy golden pinions Toward the goal?

 Gladly, gladly, would I free thee From Earth's thrall! With what bliss and joy to see thee Rise o'er all!

 But 'tis not for me to aid thee In thy flight; For the Holy One who made thee, Doeth right. 

 When his own good time arriveth, Then will He, From the load with which thou strivest, Set thee free. 

 OUR HELEN. 

 Our Helen is a "perfect love" Of a blue-eyed baby; When she's grown she'll be a belle, And a "Venus, " may be. 

 Such a cunning little mouth, Lips as red as cherry, And she smiles on all around In a way so merry. 

 Laughs, and crows, and claps her hands, Springs, and hops, and dances, As if her little brain overflowed With lively, tripping fancies. 

 Then she'll arch her pretty neck, And toss her head so queenly, And, when she's weary, fall asleep And slumber so serenely. 

 She has a cunning kind of way Of looking sly and witty, As if to say, in baby words, "I know I'm very pretty. "

 She bites her "mammy, " scratches "nurse, " And makes droll mouths at "pappy;" We can but love the roguish thing, She looks so bright and happy. 

 The dinner-table seems to be The crown of all her wishes, For there the gypsy's sure to have A hand in all the dishes. 

 But why should we essay to sing Her thousand sprightly graces? She has the merriest of ways, The prettiest of faces. 

 We know she'll grow a peerless one, With skin all white and pearly; And laughing eyes, and auburn locks, All silky, soft and curly. 

 Her baby laugh and sportive glee, Her spirit's airy lightness, Surround the pleasant prairie home With hues of magic brightness. 

 MY BONNET OF BLUE. 

 My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, Its gossamer fineness I'll sing to you; For a delicate fabric in sooth it was, All trimmed and finified off with gauze. My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, How well I remember thy azure hue!

 To church I wore it, one pleasant day, Bedecked in ribbons of fanciful ray; And all the while I sat on my seat I thought of naught save my bonnet so neat. My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, Broke not my heart when I bade thee adieu?

 When service was over, my steps I bent Towards home, a-nodding my head as I went But, alas for my bonnet! there came a wind And blew it away, for the strings were not pinned. My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, What shifting scenes have been thine to pass through!

 I raised my eyes to the calm, blue sky, There sailed my bonnet serene and high! O, what a feeling of hopeless woe Stole over me then, no heart may know! My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, As clear as the sky was thy azure hue!

 'Twas vain to mourn for my bonnet, and yet It taught me a lesson I shall not forget; 'Twas, never to make you an idol of clay, For when you best love them they'll fly away. My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, I loved thee well, but thou wert untrue!

 DARK-BROWED MARTHA. 

 When the frost-king clothed the forests In a flood of gorgeous dyes, Death called little dark-browed Martha To her mansion in the skies. 'Twas a calm October Sabbath When the bell with solemn sound Knelled her to her quiet slumbers Low down in the darksome ground. 

 Far away, where sun and summer Reign in glory all the year, Was the land she left behind her, To her simple heart so dear. There a mother and a brother, Meeting oft at close of day, Spoke in tender, tearful whispers Of the loved one far away. 

 "I am thinking, " said the mother, "How much Martha'll get to know, And how smart and bright 'twill make her, Travellin' round the country so. 'Spect she'll be a mighty lady, Shinin' jewels in her ears; But I hope she won't forget us, -- Dat is what dis poor heart fears. "

 "'Deed she won't, " then spoke the brother, "Martha'll love us just as well As before she parted from us, -- Trust me, mammy, I can tell. " Then he passed a hand in silence O'er his damp and swarthy brow, Brushed a tear from off the eyelid, -- "O that she were with us now!"

 "Pshaw! don't cry, Lem, " said the mother, "There's no need of that at all; Massa said he'd bring her to us When the nuts began to fall. The pecans will soon be rattling From the tall plantation trees, She'll be here to help us pick them, Brisk and merry as you please. "

 Thus they talked, while she they waited From the earth had passed away; Walked no more in pleasant places, Saw no more the light of day; Knew no more of toilsome labor, Spiteful threats or angry blows; For the Heavenly One had called her Early from a life of woes. 

 Folded we the tiny fingers On the cold, unmoving breast; Robed her in a decent garment, For her long and dreamless rest; And when o'er the tranquil Sabbath Evening's rays began to fall, Followed her with heavy footsteps To the home that waits us all. 

 As we paused beside the churchyard, Where the tall green maples rise, Strangers came and viewed the sleeper, With sad wonder in their eyes; While my thoughts flew to that mother, And that brother far away: How they'd weep and wail, if conscious This was Martha's burial day!

 When the coffin had been lowered Carefully into the ground, And the heavy sods fell on it With a cold and hollow sound, Thought I, as we hastened homewards, By the day's expiring light, Martha never slept so sweetly As she'll sleep this Sabbath night.