MABEL'S MISTAKE. 

BY

MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS. 

 AUTHOR OF "FASHION AND FAMINE, " "THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS, " "DOUBLY FALSE, " "SILENT STRUGGLES, " "THE OLD HOMESTEAD, " "THE REJECTED WIFE, " "THE HEIRESS, " "THE GOLD BRICK, " "MARY DERWENT, " "THE WIFE'S SECRET, " ETC. , ETC. 

 "Imagine something purer far, More free from stain of clay, There friendship, love, or passion are, Yet human still as they: And if thy lips for love like this No mortal word can frame, Go ask of angels what it is, And call it by that name. "

 PHILADELPHIA: T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 306 CHESTNUT STREET. 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by

 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 

 * * * * *

 ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS. 

 Each work complete in one vol. , 12mo. 

 _THE CURSE OF GOLD. _ _WIVES AND WIDOWS. _ _THE REJECTED WIFE. _ _FASHION AND FAMINE. _ _THE GOLD BRICK. _ _SILENT STRUGGLES. _ _THE OLD HOMESTEAD. _ _MARY DERWENT. _ _THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS. _ _THE WIFE'S SECRET. _ _MABEL'S MISTAKE. _ _DOUBLY FALSE. _ _THE HEIRESS. _

 Price of each, $1. 75 in Cloth; or $1. 50 in Paper Cover. 

 * * * * *

Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or all of theabove books will be sent to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, onreceipt of their price by the Publishers, T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA. 

 TO

 MY DEAR, YOUNG FRIEND, MISS EUDORA J. HART, OF NEW YORK, THIS VOLUME IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 

 ANN S. STEPHENS. 

 WASHINGTON, D. C. , OCTOBER 17, 1868. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. --THE STEP-MOTHER AND STEP-SON 23

 II. --OLD MR. HARRINGTON 29

 III. --THE HILL SIDE ADVENTURE 32

 IV. --LINA COMES OUT OF HER FAINTING FIT 38

 V. --ON THE BANKS AND ON THE RIVER 45

 VI. --THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE HILL 51

 VII. --THE UNEXPECTED PASSENGER 57

 VIII. --OUT OF THE STORM 63

 IX. --THE BURNING CEDAR 70

 X. --HOME IN SAFETY 75

 XI. --GENERAL HARRINGTON IS SHOCKED 82

 XII. --LOVE DREAMS 85

 XIII. --THE BROKEN CONFESSION 93

 XIV. --RALPH'S LOVE DREAM 101

 XV. --THE STOLEN JOURNAL 107

 XVI. --JAMES HARRINGTON'S RIDE 111

 XVII. --THAT WOMAN 117

 XVIII. --OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS 125

 XIX. --THE LOVER'S CONFESSION 131

 XX. --THE BOUQUET OF ROSES 136

 XXI. --BEN BENSON GIVES AN OPINION 139

 XXII. --A RENEWAL OF CONFIDENCE 147

 XXIII. --THE LOVE SONG 152

 XXIV. --A MEETING IN THE HILLS 155

 XXV. --CONTINUED PLOTTING 160

 XXVI. --THE NOTE WITH A GREEN SEAL 165

 XXVII. --GENERAL HARRINGTON'S CONFESSION 168

 XXVIII. --THE NOTE ON THE BREAKFAST TABLE 172

 XXIX. --FATHER AND DAUGHTER 179

 XXX. --BROTHER AND SISTER 186

 XXXI. --THE SLAVE AND HER MASTER 190

 XXXII. --THE BOAT-HOUSE 198

 XXXIII. --GENERAL HARRINGTON READS THE VELLUM BOOK 202

 XXXIV. --AMONG THE WATER LILIES 211

 XXXV. --AFTER THE STORM 216

 XXXVI. --MISTRESS AND MAID 218

 XXXVII. --THE SLAVE WE LEFT BEHIND US 223

 XXXVIII. --THE EATON FAMILY 226

 XXXIX. --THAT SPANISH NOBLEMAN 230

 XL. --THE MANOEUVRING MOTHER 236

 XLI. --THE CATHEDRAL AT SEVILLE 239

 XLII. --A DUKE IN THE HOUSE 245

 XLIII. --HOPES AND PERSUASIONS 248

 XLIV. --THE INFANTA AND HER GUESTS 252

 XLV. --THE PROCESSION OF THE MADONNAS 256

 XLVI. --WHERE WE SAW THE DUKE 259

 XLVII. --MRS. EATON'S TRIBULATION 265

 XLVIII. --ZILLAH'S LETTER 270

 XLIX. --THE GENERAL PROPOSES A TRIP TO CADIZ 273

 L. --MISS EATON MAKES MISS CRAWFORD A VISIT 279

 LI. --CONTINUED MISUNDERSTANDING 286

 LII. --GENERAL HARRINGTON RETURNS WITH ZILLAH 290

 LIII. --ZILLAH IS ANXIOUS ABOUT THE HEALTH OF HER MISTRESS 296

 LIV. --BEHIND THE GIPSIES' TENT 301

 LV. --BURDENED WITH A SECRET 304

 LVI. --TOO LATE, TOO LATE 313

 LVII. --ZILLAH 318

 LVIII. --GENERAL HARRINGTON'S TEMPTATION 323

 LIX. --A STORM IN THE WOODS 328

 LX. --THE DARK-HOUSE 332

 LXI. --STRANGE PLANS 337

 LXII. --THE TEMPTATION 339

 LXIII. --JAMES HARRINGTON'S GREAT STRUGGLE 347

 LXIV. --THE LIFE DEED 352

 LXV. --WHO WAS LINA FRENCH? 355

 LXVI. --THREATS AND PERSUASIONS 360

 LXVII. --THE EVENING RIDE 367

 LXVIII. --RALPH FINDS LINA 372

 LXIX. --AGNES BECOMES PATHETIC 376

 LXX. --MABEL HARRINGTON AND HER SON 382

 LXXI. --THE MISSING BOOK 387

 LXXII. --FRAGMENTS OF MABEL'S JOURNAL 391

 LXXIII. --THE TWO BROTHERS 393

 LXXIV. --GENERAL HARRINGTON'S SECRET 399

 LXXV. --THE DESERTED CHAMBER 404

 LXXVI. --THE UNEXPECTED RETURN 407

 LXXVII. --MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 411

 LXXVIII. --A STORMY PARTING 414

 LXXIX. --UNDER THE ICE 419

 LXXX. --WHO WAS LINA 423

 LXXXI. --THE MANIAC 426

MABEL'S MISTAKE. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE STEP-MOTHER AND STEP-SON. 

It was autumn, one of those balmy Indian summer days which, if the eyeswere closed, would remind you of Andalusia when the orange trees putforth their blossoms with the matured fruit still clinging to theirboughs, burying its golden ripeness among cool, green leaves, and budsof fragrant snow. Still, save in the delicious atmosphere that autumnalsunset would not have reminded you of any land but our own. For whatother climate ever gave the white wings of the frost the power toscatter that rich combination of red, green, gold and dusky purple upona thousand forests in a single night? What other land ever saw the sungo down upon a world of green foliage, and rise to find the same foliagebathed in a sea of brilliant tints, till the east was paled by itsgorgeousness?

Indeed, there was nothing in this calm, Indian-summer twilight to remindyou of any other land, save its stillness and the balm of dying flowersgiving up their lives to the frost. But the links of association arerapid and mysterious, and the scenes that awaken a reminiscence aresometimes entirely opposite to the memory awakened. 

Be this as it may, there was something in the landscape suddenly cladin its gorgeous fall tints--in the river so coldly transparent twelvehours before, now rolling on through the glowing shadows as if the sandsand pebbles in its bed had been turned to jewels, which reminded atleast one person in that old mansion house, of scenes long ago witnessedin the south of Spain. 

The old mansion house which we speak of, stood some miles above thatgorge in the Harlem River which is now spanned by the High Bridge. Thisregion of Manhattan Island is even yet more than half buried in itsprimeval forest trees. Hills as abrupt, and moss as greenly fleecy as iffound on the crags of the Rocky Mountains, still exist among the wildnooks and wilder peaks which strike the eye more picturesquely fromtheir vicinity to the great metropolis. 

At the particular spot I wish to describe, the hills fall back from theHudson, north and south, far enough to leave a charming little valley ofsome two or three hundred acres cradled in their wildness and openinggreenly to the river, which is sure to catch a sheaf of sunbeams in itsbosom when the day fires its last golden salute from behind thePalisades. Sheltered by hills, some broken into cliffs, some rollingsmoothly back, clothed in variously tinted undergrowth and fine oldtrees, the valley itself received a double charm from the contrast ofcultivation. It was entirely cleared of trees and undergrowth, savewhere a clump of cool hemlocks, a grove of sugar maples, or a droopingelm gave it those features we so much admire in the country homes of oldEngland. 

In the centre of the valley was a swell of land sloping down to theriver in full, grassy waves, which ended at the brink in a tiny coveoverhung by a clump of golden willows. 

Crowning the swell of this elevation stood the old mansion commanding afine view of the river, with a glimpse of the opposite shore, where theWeehawken hills begin to consolidate into the Palisades. A score ofpicturesque and pleasant little nooks were visible from the numerouswindows, for it was an irregular old place, varying as much as anAmerican house can vary in its style of architecture. The original ideahad undoubtedly sprung from our Knickerbocker ancestors, for the gableswere not only pointed, but notched down the steep edges after asemi-battlemented fashion, while stacks of quaint chimneys and heavyoaken doors bespoke a foundation far antecedent to the revolution. 

But in addition to these proofs of antiquity, were balconies of carvedstone, curving over modern bay windows, which broke up the stiffuniformity of the original design; and along one tall gable that frontedon the river, French windows, glittering with plate glass, opened to averandah of stone-work, surrounded by a low railing also of stone; andif these windows were not one blaze of gold at sunset, you might becertain that a storm was lowering over the Palisades, and that the nextday would be a cloudy one. 

Another gable facing the south was lighted by a broad arched windowcrowded full of diamond-shaped glass, tinted through and through by thebloom and glow of a conservatory within. In short the mansion was apicturesque incongruity utterly indescribable, and yet one of the mostinteresting old houses in the world. 

Whatever might be said of its architecture, it certainly had a mostaristocratic appearance, and bore proofs in every line and curve of itsstone traceries, both of fine taste and great wealth, inherited fromgeneration to generation. Time itself would have failed to sweep thesetraces of family pride from the old house, for each century had carvedit deeper and deeper into the massive stone, and it was as much aportion of the scenery, as the stately old forest trees that shelteredit. 

But we have alluded to one who sat in a room of this old mansion, looking thoughtfully out upon the change that a single night had leftupon the landscape. Her seat, a crimson easy-chair, stood near one ofthe broad bay windows we have mentioned. The sashes were folded back, and she looked dreamily out upon the river and the opposite shore. Thewhole view was bathed in a subdued glow of crimson and golden purple;for the sun was sinking behind the Palisades, and shot sheaf after sheafof flashing arrows across the river, that melted into a soft glowinghaze before they reached the apartment which she occupied. 

The room behind was full of shadows, and nothing but the light of ahickory-wood fire revealed the objects it contained. She was lookingforth upon the sunset, and yet thinking of other countries and sceneslong gone by. Her mind had seized upon the salient points of a historyfull of experience, and she was swept away into the past. 

No, she was not young, nor beautiful even. The flush of youth was gonefor ever. Her features were thoughtful, almost severe, her form statelyand mature. 

No, she was not beautiful. At her age that were impossible, and yet shewas a woman to fix the attention at a glance, and keep herself in thememory for ever--a grand, noble woman, with honor and strength, andbeautiful depths of character, apparent even in her thoughtful repose. 

But this woman shakes off the reverie that has held her so long inthrall, and looks up at the sound of a voice within the room, blushingguiltily like a young girl aroused from her first love thoughts. Shecasts aside the remembrance of black fruited olive groves and orangetrees sheeted with snowy fragrance, and knows of a truth that she is athome surrounded by the gorgeous woods of America, in the clear chill airinhaled with the first breath of her life. 

"Did you speak, James?"

She turned quietly and looked within the room. Near her, sitting withhis elbows on a small table and his broad forehead buried in the palmsof his hands, sat a man of an age and presence that might have befittedthe husband of a woman, at once so gentle and so proud as the one whospoke to him; for even in the light produced by the gleams of a dullfire and the dusky sunset, as they floated together around hiseasy-chair, you could see that he was a man of thought and power. 

The man looked up and, dropping his hands to the table with a sort ofweariness, answered, as if to some person away off--

"No, I did not speak--I never did speak!"

It was a strange answer, and the lady's face grew anxious as she lookedupon him. Certainly he had uttered some sound, or she would not haveasked the question. She arose and moving across the room, leaned herelbow upon his chair, looking thoughtfully down in his face. 

He started, as if but that moment conscious of her presence, and aroseprobably to avoid the grave questioning of her look. 

"Of what were you thinking, James?" she said almost abruptly, for asuperstitious thought forced the question to her lips almost against herwill. 

"I was thinking, " said the man, resting his head against the oakcarvings of his chair, "I was thinking of a time when we were all in thesouth of Spain. "

"Of your mother's death?" inquired the lady in a low voice. "It was amournful event to remember. What is there in this soft twilight toremind us both of the same thing, for I was thinking of that time also!"

"Of my mother's death?" inquired the gentleman, lifting his eyes to herface suddenly, almost sternly. "I was not thinking of that, but of myfather's marriage. "

The lady did not speak, but her face grew pale, and over it swept asmile so vivid with surprise, so eloquent of mournfulness, that sheseemed transfigured. Her hand dropped away from the chair, and walkingback to the window she sat down, uttering a faint sigh, as if someslumbering pain had been sharpened into anguish by the few words thathad been spoken. Twenty years had she lived in the house with JamesHarrington, and never before had the subject of her marriage with hisfather been mentioned between them, save as it arose in the discussionof household events. 

Her marriage with his father, that was the subject of his gloomythoughts. Had she then failed to render him content in his home? Had shein anything fallen short of those gentle duties he had received sogratefully from the mother that was gone? Why was it that thoughts ofSpain and of events that had transpired there, should have seized uponthem both at the same time?

She arose again, pale and with a tremor of the limbs. The balmy air grewsickening to her--his presence an oppression. For the first time shebegan to doubt if she were not an object of dislike to her husband'sguest. He saw her pass from the room without turning a glance that way, and followed her with a look of self-reproach. He felt pained andhumiliated. After a silence of so many years, why had he dared to utterwords to that woman--his best friend--which could never be explained?Had all manhood forsaken him? Had he sunk to be a common-place carper inthe household which she had invested with so much beautiful happiness?Stung with these thoughts he arose and sought the open air also. 

CHAPTER II. 

OLD MR. HARRINGTON. 

An old man sat in a room above the one just deserted by its inmates. Hewas watching the sunset also, with unusual interest, not because itbrought back loving or sad memories, but with an admiration of the sensealone. With tastes cultivated to their extremest capacity, and aphilosophy of happiness essentially material, this old man permitted nohour to pass by without gleaning some sensual enjoyment from it, that aless egotistical person might never have discovered. An epicure in allthings, he had attained to a sort of self-worship, which would have beensublime if applied to the First Cause of all that is beautiful. Hissplendid person was held in reverence, not because it was made in theimage of his God, but for the powers of enjoyment it possessed--for thesymmetry it displayed, and the defiance which it had so long given tothe inroads of time. 

As a whole and in detail, this old man was a self-worshipper. Like allidolaters he was blind to the defects of his earthly god, and if a gleamof unpleasant self knowledge would occasionally force itself upon hisnotice, the conviction only rendered him more urgent to extort homagefrom others. 

The room in which this old man sat, was a library fitted up expresslyfor himself. It was one of his peculiarities that his sources ofenjoyment must be exclusive, in order to be valuable. He would notwillingly have shared a single tint of that beautiful sunset withanother, unless satisfied that the admiration thus excited would givezest to his own pleasurable sensations. 

Thus, with the selfishness of an epicure and the tastes of a savant, hesurrounded himself with the most luxurious elegance. The book-cases ofcarved ebony that run along two sides of the apartment, were filled withrare books, accumulated during his travels, some of them worth theirweight in gold. Doors of plate glass protected their antique and oftengorgeous bindings, and medallions of rare bronzes were inlaid in therich carvings of the cornices. 

Over the mantle-piece of Egyptian marble, carved to a miracle of art, hung an original by Guido, one of those ethereal pictures in which thefigures seem to float through the glowing atmosphere, borne onward onlyby a gushing sense of their own happiness. 

The French windows opposite were filled, like the book-cases, withplate-glass pure and limpid as water, and two bronze Bacchantes, throwninto attitudes of riotous enjoyment, held back voluminous folds ofcrimson brocade that enriched the light which fell through them. Avariety of chairs stood about, carved like the book-cases, cushionedwith crimson leather and embossed with gold. The ebony desk upon whichthe old man's elbow rested, as he looked forth upon the river, wasscattered over with books and surmounted by a writing apparatus ofmalachite, whose mate could hardly have been found out of the imperial_salons_ of Russia. 

Everything was in keeping, the luxurious room and the old man whosepresence completed it. If the two persons we have just described seemedimposing in their moral grandeur, while they sat thoughtfully watchingthe sunset, this man with his keen, black eyes, his beard flowingdownward in white waves from the chin and upper lip, which was curvedexactly in the form of a bow, took from the material alone an interestalmost as impressive. 

The old man saw his wife pass down in front of the house and descendtoward the river. The black dress and scarlet shawl which she wore, rendered her a picturesque object in the landscape, and as such the oldman was admiring her. Directly after, his son followed, and anotherstately figure was added to the view; but his walk verged toward thehills, and he was soon lost among the trees. 

The old man was vexed at this derangement in his picture; but directlythere came in sight a little boat, ploughing through the golden ripplescast downward by the sun, and half veiled in the glowing mists of theriver. He watched the boat while it came dancing toward the shore, andsmiled when his wife paused a moment on the bank, as if awaiting itsapproach. 

"She is right. A figure upon the shore completes the whole thing. Oneseldom sees a picture so perfect! Claude Lorraine!--why, his sunsets areleaden compared to this! Oh, she turns off and spoils the effect bythrowing the willows between us! Why will women be so restless! Now afemale caprice--nothing more--has destroyed the most lovely effect Iever saw; just as I was drinking it in, too. But the boat ispretty--yes, yes, that enlivens the foreground--bravo! Capital, Ben, capital!--that stoop is just the thing; and the youngsters, howbeautifully they group themselves! Hallo! upon my honor, if that youngscamp is not making love to Lina! I don't pretend to know what theattitude of love-making is!"

The old man fell back in his chair, and drew a hand over his eyes with arestless motion, muttering uneasily, "Ralph and Lina? upon my word, I have been blind as a bat. How far hasthe thing gone? Has Mabel encouraged it? Does she know? What hand canJames have had in bringing this state of things about? These twochildren--why, the thing is preposterous!"

The old man left his easy-chair, as these unpleasant conjectures forcedthemselves upon him, and, as if sickened by the landscape he had justbeen admiring, shut it out by a jerk of the hand, which brought thecrimson drapery flowing in loose folds from its gilded rods, and gavethe whole room a tent-like seclusion. In the rich twilight thusproduced, the old man walked to and fro, angry and thoughtful. At lasthe took his hat and left the house. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE HILL SIDE ADVENTURE. 

Ralph Harrington and Lina French had been out upon the river, since theshadow began to fall eastward upon its waters. The day had been so calm, and everything their eyes fell upon was so luxuriantly lovely, that theycould not force themselves to come in doors, till the twilight overtookthem. 

Old Ben--or rather our Ben, for he was not so very old, after all--whoconsidered himself master of the little craft which he was mooring inthe cove, had aided and abetted this truant disposition in the youngpeople, after a fashion that Mr. Harrington might not have approved; andall that day there was a queer sort of smile upon his features, thatmeant more than a host of words would have conveyed in another person. Never, in his whole life, had Ben been so obliging in his management ofthe boat. If Lina took a fancy to a branch of golden rod, or a clusterof fringed gentian upon the shore, Ben would put in at the nearestconvenient point, and sit half an hour together in the boat, with hisarms folded over his oars, and his head bowed, as if fast asleep. YetBen Benson, according to my best knowledge and belief, was never morethoroughly awake than on that particular day. 

They were gliding dreamily along at the foot of the Weehawken hills, with their boat half full of fall flowers and branches, when Lina saw atree so brilliantly red, that she insisted on climbing to the rock whereit was rooted, in search of the leaves that were dropped sleepily fromits boughs. 

Ben shot into a little inlet formed by two jutting rocks, and Ralphsprang ashore, holding out his hand for Lina, who scarcely touched it asshe took her place by his side. 

"Now for a scramble!" exclaimed the youth, grasping Lina's hand tightlyin his own; and away, like a pair of wild birds, the two young creaturesdarted up the hill. 

The rock, behind which the tree stood, was scattered over with leaves ofa deep crimson, brightening to scarlet on the edges, and veined with agreen so deep, that it seemed like black. Among the endless variety ofleaves they had discovered, these were the most singular, and Linagathered them up in handfuls only to scatter them abroad again when amore tempting waif caught her eye. 

"Wait a moment--wait, Ralph; oh, here is a whole drift of them; see howbright they look, quivering over the fleeces of moss that slope down therocks. If I could but take the whole home, just as it is, for mamma!"

Lina was stooping eagerly as she spoke. A quick, rattling sound in theleaves struck her, and she called out, laughing--

"If it were not so late in the fall, Ralph, I should think there was alocust singing in the leaves. "

That moment Ben, who had tied his boat, came scrambling up the hill. Hetook his place by Ralph upon a shelf of the rock, and began to sniff theair with his flat, pug nose, like a watch-dog scenting an enemy. Thenoise which interested Lina was over now, and he only heard herobservation about the locust. 

"Ain't there a strong smell of honey about here, Mister Ralph?" hesaid, looking anxiously around; "something between the scent of an oldbee-hive and a wasp's nest?"

"There is a singular scent I fancy, Ben, " answered the young man, following Lina with his eyes. "Not disagreeable, though!"

"Do you begin to guess what it means?" inquired Ben, anxiously. 

"Not at all, " answered Ralph, waving his hand and smiling upon Lina, whoheld up a branch of richly shaded leaves she had just taken from a maplebough, laughing gaily as the main branch swept rustling back to itsplace. "Not at all, Ben; it may be the frost-bitten fern-leaves--theysometimes give out a delicious odor. Everything in the woods takes apleasant scent at this season of the year, I believe. "

Lina, who was restless as a bird, changed her position again, and themovement was followed by another quick, hissing sound from a neighboringrock. 

"So that is Miss Lina's idea of a locust, is it, " muttered Ben, lookingsharply around. "If that's a locust, Mister Ralph, the animal has got atremenjus cold, for he's hoarse--yes, hoarse as a rattlesnake--do youhear, Mister Ralph? Hoarse as a rattlesnake!"

Ben was intensely excited, and looked eagerly around, searching fordanger. 

"Look!" he whispered, after a moment; "the sunshine on the red leavesdazzles the eyesight--but look stiddy on the rock there, where the greenmoss is fluttered over with them red leaves--don't you see the mosskinder a stirrin'?"

Ralph looked, and there, about six feet from Lina, he saw what seemed atfirst a mass of gorgeous foliage, quivering upon the green moss, for aglow of warm sunshine fell athwart it and dazzled his eyes for themoment. But anxiety cleared his vision, and he saw that the glowingmass was a serpent drawn from a cleft of the rock by the warm sun. Disturbed by Lina's approach, he was that instant coiling itself up fora spring. His head was erect, his tongue quivered like a thread offlame, and two horrible fangs, crooked and venomous, shot out on eachside his open jaws. In the centre of the coil, and just behind the headwhich vibrated to and fro with horrible eagerness, the rattles kept inlanguid play, as if tired of warning her. 

Ralph, pale as death and trembling all over, stooped down and seized afragment of rock; but Lina was too near, he dared not hurl it. The younggirl enticed by the floating leaves which the sun struck so brightlyaround the serpent, had her foot poised to spring forward. 

"Lina!" cried Ralph, in a low voice, "Lina!"

"In one moment, " cried the girl, laughing wilfully; "wait till I getthose leaves drifting across the rock there. "

The gipsy hat had fallen on one side; her hands were full of red leaves, and she was smiling saucily. This unconsciousness of danger washorrible. The young man shrunk and quivered through all his frame. 

"Lina, step aside--to the right--dear Lina, I entreat, I insist!"

His voice was deep and husky, scarcely more than a whisper, and yet fullof command. 

Lina looked back, and her smiling lips grew white with astonishment. Ralph stood above her pale as marble; his hand grasping the rock wasuplifted, his fierce, distended eyes looked beyond her. Wild withnameless dread the young girl stepped backward, following his glancewith her eyes. Her breath was checked--she could not scream. Theglittering eyes of the rattlesnake, though turned upon another, held hermotionless. A prickly sensation pierced her lips through and through, asthe snake loosened his coils and changed his position so abruptly, thathis back glittered in the sunshine, like a mass of jewels rapidlydisturbed, making her blind and dizzy with the poisonous glow. Still shemoved backward like a statue recoiling from its base. 

"Now, " whispered Ben, "now give it to him. "

A crash--a spring--and like a fiery lance the rattlesnake shot by her, striking her garments as he went, and, falling short of his enemy, coiled himself for a new spring. 

Ralph's hand was uplifted as the fragment of rock had left it; andthere, within a few feet, lay the rattlesnake making ready for a secondspring, and quivering through all its folds. 

She uttered a wild cry, stooped quick as lightning, seized a fragment ofrock, --dashed it with both hands upon the rattlesnake, and, rushing by, threw herself before Ralph. Her eyes turned with horror upon the workshe had done. 

"Oh, have mercy! have mercy! he is alive yet!" she shrieked, as writhingand convulsed, the rattlesnake drew his glittering folds out frombeneath the stone, and wound himself up, coil after coil, more venomousthan ever. 

"Step behind me--behind me, Lina, " cried the young man attempting toforce her away. 

But she threw her arms around him, and with her eyes turned back uponthe glittering horror, strove with all her frail strength to push himbackward out of danger. 

The brave generosity of this attempt might have destroyed them both;but, just as the rattlesnake was prepared to lance out again, Ben, whohad torn a branch from an ash tree overhead, rushed fearlessly down andstruck at him with the host of light twigs that were yet covered withdelicate maize-colored leaves. 

This act increased Lina's terror, for the blows which Ben gave were solight that a baby would have laughed at them. 

"Don't be skeer'd, nor nothing, " shouted Ben, gently belaboring hisenemy with the ash bough, "I've got the pizen sarpent under, just lookthis way and you'll find him tame as a rabbit. Lord! how the critterdoes hate the smell of ash leaves! Now do look, Miss Lina!"

Lina clung trembling to Ralph, but turned her eyes with breathless dreadtoward the rattlesnake. 

"Come close by--just get a look at him--the stiffening is out of hisback-bone now, I tell you!" cried Ben, triumphantly. "See him a tryingto poke his head under the moss just at the sight of a yaller ashleaf--ain't he a coward, now ain't he?"

"What is it--what does it mean?" inquired Ralph, reassured now that Linawas out of danger--"did the stone wound him?"

"The stone!" repeated Ben scornfully, --"a round stone covered over withmoss like a pin cushion! Why, if this ere rattlesnake could laugh aswell as bite, he'd have a good haw-haw over Miss Lina's way of fightingsnakes. It takes something to kill them, I tell you. But I've gothim--he knows me. Look at him now!"

Ralph moved a step forward and looked down upon the rattlesnake, towardswhich Ben was pointing with his ash branch, as unconcerned as if it hadbeen an earth-worm. 

The rattlesnake had loosened all his folds, and lay prone upon his backstriving to burrow his head beneath the leaves and moss, evidentlywithout power to escape or show fight. 

"Wonderful, isn't it!" said Ben, eyeing the snake with grim complacency;"now I should just like to know what there is in the natur of this ereash limb that wilts his pizen down so? Why, he's harmless as acatterpillar. Come down and see for yourself, Mister Ralph. "

"No, no!" pleaded Lina, faint and trembling, for the reaction of therecent terror was upon her, and she grew sick now that the danger wasover. "I am ill--blind--Ralph--Ralph!"

She spoke his name in faint murmurs, her head fell forward and her eyesclosed. Ralph thought she was dying. He remembered that the rattlesnakehad touched her in his first spring, and took the faintness as theworking of his venom in her veins. He called out in the agony of thisthought, --

"Ben! Ben! she is dying--she is dead--he struck her!"

Ben gave the rattlesnake a vigorous lash, which turned him on his backagain, and sprang up the rocks. 

"Have you killed him? Is he dead? Oh, Ben, he has struck her on her armor hand, perhaps! Look, look--see if you can find the wound!"

Ben gave a hasty glance at the white face lying upon Ralph's shoulder, uttered a smothered humph, and with this emphatic expression turned towatch the common enemy. The snake had turned slowly over upon the mossand was slinking away through a crevice in the rocks. Ben uttered amellow chuckling laugh as his rattles disappeared. 

"Did you see him, the sneak? Did you see him steal off?" he said, looking at Ralph. 

CHAPTER IV. 

LINA COMES OUT OF HER FAINTING FIT. 

Ralph lifted his white face to old Ben and broke forth fiercely:

"You should have crushed him--ground him to powder. He has poisoned allthe sweet life in her veins. She is dying, Ben, she is dying!"

Ben threw down the ash branch and plunged one hand into a pocket insearch of his tobacco box. With great deliberation he rolled up aquantity of the weed and deposited it under one cheek, before heattempted to answer either the pleading looks or passionate language ofthe youth. 

"Mister Ralph, it's plain as a marlin-spike, you ain't used to snakesand wimmen. In that partiklar your education's been shamefullyneglected. Never kill a rattlesnake arter he's shut in his fangs andturns on his back for mercy--its sneakin' business. Never think a womanis dead till the sexton sends in his bill. Snakes and feminine wimmen ishard to kill. Now any landshark, as has his eyes out of his heart, couldsee that Miss Lina's only took a faintin' turn, that comes after a skeerlike hers, axactly as sleep stills a tired baby. Just give her here now, I'll take her down the river, throw a cap full of water in her face, andshe'll be bright as a new dollar long before we get across. "

The look of relief that came to the face of Ralph Harrington was like aflash of sunshine. A grateful smile lighted his eyes, but instead ofresigning Lina to the stout arms held out by Ben Benson, he gathered herclose to his bosom, saying in a proud voice, "Why, Ben, I want no help to carry Lina. "

Then he bore her down the hill, looking now and then upon her face sotenderly, that Ben, who was eyeing him all the way with sidelongglances, made a hideous face to himself, as if to capitulate with hisdignity for wanting to smile at anything so childish. 

"Sit down there, " said Ben, pointing to the stern of his boat, "sit downthere, Mister Ralph, and kinder ease her down to the seat; your face ishot as fire a carrying her. Now I'll fill my hat with water and give hera souse that'll bring the red to her mouth in a jiffy. "

"No, no, " said Ralph, arresting Ben as he stooped to fill his littleglazed hat, "don't throw it, hold your cap here, Ben, and I'll sprinkleher face. How pale it is! How like a dear lifeless angel she looks?"

Ben stooped to the water, and Ralph trembling and flushed, bent over thepale beautiful face on his bosom, closer, closer, till his lips drew theblood back to hers, and her eyelids began to quiver like shadows on awhite rose. 

Ben had slowly risen from the water with the glazed hat dripping betweenhis two great hands; but when he saw Ralph's position, the good fellowducked downward again, and made a terrible splashing in the river, as hedipped the brimming hat a second time, while that grotesque suppressionof a smile convulsed his hard features. 

It was wonderful how long it took Ben to fill his hat this time. Onewould have thought him fishing for pearls in the depths of the river, hewas so fastidious in finding the exact current best calculated torestore a young lady from faintness. When he did arise, everything aboutthe young people was, to use his nautical expression, ship-shape andabove-board. The color was stealing back to Lina's face, like blushesfrom the first flowering of apple blossoms, and a brightness stole frombeneath her half-closed eyelids, that had something softer and deeperthan mere life in it. 

"It is not necessary, Ben; she is better, I think, " said the young man, looking half-timidly into the boatman's face. "Don't you think she looksbeauti----I mean, don't you think she looks better, a great deal better, Ben?"

Again, that grotesque expression seized upon Ben's features; and, setting down his hat, as if it had been a washbowl, he took Lina's strawhat from the bottom of the boat, where it had fallen, and began to shakeout the ribbons with great energy. 

"She grows pale--I'm afraid she is losing ground again, Ben, " saidRalph, as the color wavered to and fro on the fair cheek beneath hisgaze. 

"Shall I fill the hat again?" answered Ben, demurely. 

"It kinder seems to be the filling on it that brings her round easiest?"

"No, you're very kind, but I'll sprinkle her forehead--she has been sofrightened, you know, I dare say she thought the snake had bitten--hadbitten one of us, Ben! That is right, hold the hat this way. "

Ben dropped on his knees in the bottom of the boat, crushing down awhole forest of Lina's wild flowers, and held up the hat reverentlybetween his hands. 

Ralph put back the masses of brown hair from Lina's face, and began tobathe it gently, almost holding his breath, as if she were a babe he wasafraid of waking. 

"Isn't she a dear, generous creature?" he said, at last, with a burst ofadmiration. "It took a fright like this, to prove how precious she wasto us all!"

Instantly, a cloud of crimson swept over Lina's face and bosom, and withit came an illumination of the features, that made the young man tremblebeneath her light weight. 

"Lina, dear Lina!" he whispered. 

She arose from his arms, crimson again to the temples, and sat down insilence, her eyes downcast, her lips trembling, as if a great effortkept her from bursting into tears. 

Ralph saw this, and his face clouded. 

"What have I done? Are you angry with me, Lina?" he whispered, as Benpushed the boat off and gathered up his oars. 

"Angry! No, I cannot tell. What has happened to us, Ralph?"

"Don't you remember, Lina?"

"Remember?--yes--now. Oh, it was horrible!"

"I, Lina, I shall always remember it with more pleasure than pain. "

She lifted her eyes with a timid, questioning glance. The young man drewclose to her, and as Ben dashed his oars in the water, thus drowninghis voice to all but her, whispered--

"Because it has told me in my heart of hearts how entirely I love you, Lina. "

Her maidenly shame was aroused now. She shrunk from his glance, blushingand in silence. 

"Will you not speak to me, Lina?"

"What can I say, Ralph?"

"That you love me. "

A little coquettish smile stole over her mouth. 

"We have said that to each other from the cradle up. "

"No, never before, never with this depth of meaning--my heart is brokenup, Lina; there is nothing left of it but a flood of tender love--youare no longer my sister, but my idol; I worship you, Lina!"

Again Lina lifted her eyes, so blue, so flooded with gentle gratitude;but she did not speak, for Ben was resting on his oars, while the boatcrept silently down the current. 

"Why don't you steer for home?" asked Ralph, impatient of Ben's eyes. 

"I see that ere old respectable gentleman on the bank, a looking thisway, so I thought we'd lie to and refit more particularly about theupper story. If Miss Lina there'll just shake them ere curls back atrifle, and tie on her bonnet; and if you, Mister Ralph, could justmanage to look t'other way and take an observation of the scenery, perhaps we should make out to pass with a clear bill and withoutover-haulin'. "

"You are right, " said Ralph after a moment, looking anxiously, towardthe shore, where the stately figure of old Mr. Harrington was distinctlyvisible; "my father is a great stickler for proprieties. Here is yourhat, Lina--let me fold this scarf about you. "

As Ralph spoke, the flush left his face, and a look of fatigue creptover Lina. Ben still rested on his oars. He was determined to give theold gentleman ample opportunity to continue his walk inland, before theyoung people were submitted to his scrutiny. As they lingered floatingupon the waters, a tiny boat shot from beneath a cliff below them, andwas propelled swiftly down the river. In it was a female renderedconspicuous by a scarlet shawl, and in the still life around them, thisboat became an object of interest. It was only for a moment, the youngpeople were too deeply occupied with their own feelings to dwell uponeven this picturesque adjunct to a scene which was now floodedgorgeously with the sunset. Ben, however, became restless and anxious. Without a word he seized his oars, and pushed directly for the cove inwhich his boat was usually moored. 

Ralph and Lina went homewards with a reluctance never experiencedbefore. A sense of concealment oppressed them. An indefinite terror ofmeeting their friends, rendered their steps slow upon the green sward. As they drew towards the house, Ralph paused. 

"Speak to me, Lina, my heart is heavy without the sound of your voice:say you love me, or shall I be miserable with suspense?"

The young girl listened with a saddened and downcast look. A heavinesshad fallen upon her with the first sight of old Mr. Harrington on thebank. True he had gone now, but his shadow seemed to oppress her still. 

"Will you not speak to me, Lina? Will you not relieve this suspense byone little word?"

She lifted her head gently, but with modest pride. 

"You know that I love you, Ralph. "

"But not as you have done. I am not content with simple householdaffection. Say that you love me, body and soul, faults and virtues, as Ilove you. "

Lina drew herself up, and a smile, sad but full of sweetness--halfpresentiment, half faith--beamed on her face. 

"Your soul may search mine to its depths and find only itself there. Ido love you, Ralph, even as you love me!"

Her answer was almost solemn in its dignity; for the moment that fairyoung girl looked and spoke like a priestess. 

Ralph Harrington reached out his hand, taking hers in its grasp. 

"Why are you so pale? Why tremble so?" he said, moving towards thehouse. 

"I do not know, " answered Lina, "but it seems as if the breath of thatrattlesnake were around us yet. "

"You are sad--your nerves have been dreadfully shaken--but to-morrow, Lina, all will be bright again. "

Lina smiled faintly. 

"Oh, yes, all must be bright to-morrow. "

As they passed the iron gate that separated the lawn from the shore, Ben, who had seated himself in the boat, arose suddenly, and pushed hislittle craft into the river again. His weather-beaten face was turnedanxiously down the stream. He seized the oars, and urging his boat intothe current, pulled stoutly, as if some important object had suddenlyseized upon him. 

"Where can she be a going to? What on earth is she after? Has the oldrascal broke out at last? Has she give way? But I'll overhaul her! Pullaway, Ben Benson, pull away, you old rascal! What bisness had you withthem ere youngsters, and _she_ in trouble! Pull away, or I'll breakevery bone in your body, Ben Benson!"

Thus muttering and reviling himself, Ben was soon out of sight, buryinghimself, as it seemed, in the dull purple of the night as it crept overthe Hudson. 

CHAPTER V. 

ON THE BANKS AND ON THE RIVER. 

There are moments in every human life when we would gladly flee fromourselves and plunge into action of any kind, to escape from therecognition of our own memories. This recoil from the past seldom comesto early youth, for to that, memories are like the light breezes ofApril, with nothing but tender green foliage, and opening buds todisturb. With youth the past is so close to the present, that thoughtalways leaps forward into the future, and in the first flush ofexistence that is invariably beautiful. But it is a different thing whenlife approaches its maturity. Then the spirit, laden down with eventsthat have culminated, and feelings that have been shaken by many a heartstorm, bends reluctantly to the tempest like the stately old foresttrees laden with foliage, which bow to nothing but the inevitabletornado. 

Mabel Harrington left the old Mansion House with a quicker movement andmore rapid step than was natural to her, unless some strong feeling wasaroused, or some important aim to be accomplished. At such times heraction was quick, almost imperious, and all the evidences of an ardentnature, fresh as youth and strong as maturity, broke forth in eachmovement of her person and in every thought of her mind. 

She walked more and more rapidly as the distance between her and thehouse increased, for the open air and wider country gave freedom to herspirit. As she walked her earnest grey eyes turned from the river to thesky and abroad upon the hills, as if seeking for something in nature towhich her soul might appeal for sympathy in the swell and storm offeeling that a few simple words had let loose upon her, after a sleep ofmany years. 

"Does he know what I have felt and how I have suffered, that he stingsme with such words? His father's marriage! And was I not thespirit--nay, the victim of that marriage? Why should he speak to methus? The air was enough--the calm sleep of the winds--the fragrance. Iwas a girl again, till his quiet taunt awoke me. Does he think that Ihave lost a thought or a feeling because of this dull heavy routine ofcares? Why did he speak to me in that cold tone? I have not deserved it. Heaven knows I have not deserved it from him, or from any of them!"

Mabel uttered these words aloud, as she approached the banks of theriver, and her voice clear and rich with feeling, was swept out upon thewind which bore it away, mingled with fragrance from the dying leaves. 

"Does he think with common men, that the impulses of youth die out andare gone? As if the passions of youth did not become the power ofmaturity, and mellow at last into the calm grandeur of old age. If lovewere not immortal, how dreary even this beautiful world would seem, yetbeing so, I can but look forward to another, when the shackles of thislife will fall away. "

It was a relief to speak aloud. The sound of her own voice came backlike the sympathy she dared to claim only of the wind and the waters, that flowed on with their eternal rush of sound, like the years of lifethat Mabel was mourning over. She stood upon the shore, stately andmotionless, her eyes full of trouble, her lips tremulous with impulsivewords that betrayed a soul at once ardent and pure. The wind rose aroundher, and seizing upon her shawl swept it in picturesque folds about herperson, half drowning her voice, or she would not have dared to give herthoughts this bold utterance. 

It was this picturesque attitude which had attracted the attention ofher husband in the library, and that moment he resolved to join her onthe shore. 

As if this resolve had been expressed to her in words, a feeling ofunrest seized upon Mabel, and long before the old man was ready to comeforth, she was walking rapidly across the brow of a hill that boundedthe valley southward, keeping along the bank, but concealed by theundergrowth. 

She paused upon a rocky cliff that broke the hill side, breathing morefreely as if conscious that she had escaped some unwelcome intrusion. Aboat upon the river drew her attention, and she saw within it her sonand Lina floating pleasantly down the stream together. 

"How happy and how young they are!" she said with a gush of gentleaffection. "No cares--no broken hopes--no wishes unexpressed--no_secrets_; oh! in this lies the great happiness of existence. Until hehas a secret to keep, man is, indeed, next to the angels. "

Mabel sat down upon a fallen tree, covered with a drapery of pale greenmoss. She watched the boat in a sort of dream, as it drifted toward her. How much of the suffering she endured might yet be saved to the youngpersons it contained! Was not that an object worth living and enduringfor? Might she not renew her youth in them?

Renew her youth? What need was there of that? In all her existence hadshe ever been so full of life--so vigorous of mind--so capable of thehighest enjoyment? In the very prime and glory of all herfaculties--wise in experience--strong from many a silent heart-struggle, what could she gain by a return of youth? Nothing! surely nothing! Yetshe watched those two young persons with a vague feeling of sadness. They had life before them, a thousand dreamy delusions--a thousandalluring hopes evanescent as the apple blossoms of May, but as sweetalso. 

Mabel was too noble for envy, but these thoughts subdued her excitementinto silent mournfulness. At first, she thought to walk slowly back andmeet the young people when they landed, but something withheld her andshe sat still, dreamily watching them. 

She saw the boat drifting idly upon the current. The gorgeous forestleaves with which it was literally carpeted struck her eyes in richmasses of colors, as if the young people had imprisoned a portion of thesunset around their feet. She could distinguish Ben stooping forwardseemingly half asleep upon his oars. All in the boat seemed tranquil andhappy, like creatures of another life afloat upon the rivers ofparadise; she could almost see their faces--those happy faces that madethe fancy still more natural. 

As she watched them a strange pain stole to her heart. She rose suddenlyto her feet, and sweeping a hand across her eyes as if to clear theirvision, cast long searching glances toward the boat, striving to readthose young faces afar off, and thus relieve her mind of a powerfulsuspicion. 

"Why has this thought never presented itself before?" she said with apang of self reproach. "Has this eternal dream blinded me, or am I nowmistaken? Poor children--poor Lina--is this cruel destiny to fall on youalso?"

The boat came drifting toward her now in the crimson light, againenveloped in purple shadows like those fairy skiffs that glide throughour dreams. Mabel watched it till her eyes filled with tears, a strangething--for she was not a woman given to weeping, save as tears aresometimes the expression of a tender or poetic thought. Pain or wrongwere things for her to endure or redress; she never wept over them. 

That night the interest which she felt in these young persons blendedpainfully with memories that had risen, like a sudden storm, in hernature. She felt as if they were destined to carry forth and work outthe drama of her own life, and that this agency was just commencing. Asshe stood thus wrapped in turbulent thoughts, there came through thebrushwood a crash of branches and a stir of the foliage louder than thewind could have produced. 

Mabel Harrington was in no mood for companionship. She had fled from thehouse to be alone, and this approach startled her. 

A little footpath led down the brow of the hill to a tiny promontory onwhich a few hickory trees were now dropping their nuts. She struckhastily into this path and descended to the river. Close to the bank, half hidden among the dying fern leaves that drooped over it, lay aminiature boat scarcely larger than an Indian canoe. It was a highlyornamented and symmetrical little craft, that any child might havepropelled and which a queen fairy would have been proud to own. 

Mabel sprang into the boat, and seating herself on a pile of cushionsheaped in the centre, pushed out into the stream. There was no hardihoodin this, she had been accustomed to action and exercise all her life, and could propel her little skiff with the skill and grace of any Indiangirl. 

Her boat ran out from the promontory and shot like an arrow across thewater, for she trembled lest some voice should call her back, and urgedher light oars with all the impetuosity of her nature. 

At last, beyond hail from the shore, she looked back and saw a manstanding upon the brow of the hill, leaning against the oak that hadsheltered her a few moments before. Mabel paused and rested on her oars. The distance would not permit her to distinguish his features, but thesize and air might have been that of her husband had his usual habitspermitted the idea. She put it aside at once, nothing could have inducedthe General to climb the steeps of that hill. It must be James. Thesetwo persons were alike in stature and partook of the same imposing air. Yes, it must be James Harrington, and was it from him she had fled? Hadhe repented of the harsh words that had driven her forth and followedher with hopes of atonement? Her heart rose kindly at the thought. Shehalf turned her little boat, tempted back by that longing wish forreconciliation, which was always uppermost in her warm nature. 

But then came the wholesome after-thought which had so often checkedthese genial impulses. She turned the boat slowly back upon its courseand let it float with the current, watching the rise of land on which hestood, with sad, wistful glances, that no one saw, save the God whoknows how pure they were, and how much the resolution to go on had costher. 

As the boat drifted downward, she saw the person turn as if speaking tosome one, and directly a female form stood by his side. They drew closetogether, and seemed to be conversing eagerly. His look was no longertowards the boat; he had doubtless forgotten its existence. 

Mabel held her breath, the color left her lips and she grasped the oarswith each hand, till the blood was strained back from her fingers, leaving them white as marble. 

"Oh, not that! not that! I can endure anything but that! God help me! Omy God, help me! if this is added to the rest, I cannot live. "

Drops of perspiration sprang to her temples as she spoke. Unconsciouslyshe expended the first strength of her anguish on the oars, and the boatshot like a mad thing into the rapids which swept round a projection ofrocks, and like some tormented spirit, she was borne away from the sightthat had wounded her. 

There was danger now. The rush of the current, tortured by hidden rocks, sent the little craft onward, as if it had been a dead leaf cast intothe eddy. Mabel liked the danger and the tumult. The rising wind blew inher face. The waters sparkled and dashed around her. The frail oars bentand quivered in her hands. It was something to brave and fight against;but for this scope of action the new anguish that had swept through thesoul of that woman must have smothered her. 

On the little boat went, dancing and leaping down the current, recoilingwith a quiver from the hidden rocks which it touched more than once, butspringing vigorously back to its flight, like a bird upon the wing. 

"Oh, if this be so, let me die now. Why will it not strike? How camethey to make the boat so light and yet so strong? It is true! It istrue! I feel it in every throb of my pulse. After this, the life that Ithought so dreary, will be a lost paradise, to which, plead as I may, there is no going back. I will know, God help me, but I must know ifthis is a wild suspicion, or a miserable, miserable reality!"

These words bespoke the concentration of some resolves. She grasped heroars more firmly, and with a sharp glance around, put her boat upon itscourse. It shot through hidden rocks; it cut across the eddiesrecklessly as before, but all the time a single course was pursued. Atlast the little craft entered the mouth of a mountain stream that camesparkling down a pretty hemlock hollow in the hills. The hollow wasdusky with coming night, but the tree-tops were still brightened by ared tinge from the sunset, and there was light enough to find a footpathwhich wound upward along the margin of the brook. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE HILL. 

Mabel left her boat and followed the path till she reached a naturalterrace in the hills, narrow and green, upon which a small, one-storyhouse was snugly bestowed. The terrace was uncultivated, save a smallgarden patch close to the house, where the soil was torn and uneven fromthe uprooting of vegetables from the rudely-shaped beds. Sweetbrier andwild honey-suckles gave a picturesque grace to the building, at variancewith the untidy state of the grounds, and there was something in thewhole place more suggestive of refinement than is usual to dwellingswhere the inmates work hard for their daily bread. 

Mabel Harrington had never been in this place before. As she approachedit, the cry of a whippowil came up from the hollow, as if warning heraway. Everything was still within the house. There was no light; therustle of leaves with the flow of waters from the ravine, joined theirmournful whispers with the wail of the night bird. 

Mabel was imaginative as a girl, and this solitude depressed her; stillshe moved steadily towards the house, and knocked at the door. 

A woman opened it, whose person was seen but indistinctly, as she stoodwithin the small entry, holding the door with one hand; but Mabel sawthat she was dark and dressed as she had seen that class of persons inthe south. 

"I wish to see Miss Agnes Barker for a moment: is she in?" said Mrs. Harrington with her usual dignified repose of manner, for however muchinterested, Mabel was not one to invite curiosity by any display ofexcitement, and it must have been a close observer who could havedetected the faint quiver of her voice as she expressed thiscommon-place wish. 

"She don't liv hear in dis shantee. "

"I know. She lives at General Harrington's, up the river, " repliedMabel, "but it is some weeks since she has been there, and I expected tofind her with you. "

"Missus, pears like you don't know as Miss Agnes is young lady, from topto toe, ebery inch ob her. Is you the Missus?"

"I am Mrs. Harrington, " said Mabel, quietly. 

"Oh!" exclaimed the woman, prolonging the monosyllable almost into asneer, "jes come in. I'se mighty sorry de candle all burnt out an donegone. "

Mabel entered the house, and sat down in the dim light. 

"Is Missus 'lone mong dese hills?" said the woman, retreating to thedarkest corner of the room. 

"Yes, I am alone!" answered Mabel. 

"All 'lone in de dark wid nothin but that whippoorwill to keep company;skeery, ain't it, Missus?"

If the woman had hoped to terrify Mabel Harrington by these words, shewas mistaken. A vague feeling of loneliness was upon her, but she had nocowardly timidity to contend with. 

"Don't pear skeery no how, " said the woman. 

"I am seldom afraid of anything, " answered Mabel with a wan smile. "Icame to inquire for Miss Barker, if she is not here, tell me where shecan be found?"

"Done gone out to de hills, pears like she could not stay away from em. "

"Was she your mistress in the south?" inquired Mabel, troubled by thewoman's voice. 

"Pears so, Missus. "

"Some one has managed to give her a fine education--I have seldom knowna young person so thoroughly accomplished, " continued Mabel withapparent calm, but keenly attentive to every word that fell from thewoman's lips. "General Harrington informed me that she came highlyrecommended, but her attainments surprised us all. "

"Oh yes, young missus knows heap 'bout dem books an pianers. Done bornlady, no poor white trash, gorry mighty knows dat. "

"Her duties are more particularly with Miss Lina, Gen. Harrington'sadopted daughter, who makes no complaint against her--for myself, ourintercourse is very limited, but she pleases the General. We haveexpected her at the house for several days, and thought it strange thatshe did not return. "

"Ben gone ebery day dis week, sartin sure, long walk, but her's readyfor it. Nebber gets home fore dark--walk, walk, walk, in de woods widMarsa James. "

Mabel arose. A sickening sensation crept over her, and she went to theopen door for air. 

It was true then--that suspicion was all true! Agnes Barker had been inthe neighborhood of her old home for a week, without the knowledge ofits mistress. That very day the girl had met James Harrington in thehills. Her own eyes had seen them standing side by side in the sunset. 

"'Pears like de Missus am sick, " said the woman, coming toward her asshe stood cold and shuddering under this conviction. 

"No, " answered Mabel, gathering up her strength, but pressing both handsupon her heart beneath the crimson folds of her shawl. "If Miss Barkercomes to the house again she will have the goodness to see that I aminformed. Miss Lina is anxious to renew her studies. "

"Yes Missus. "

"Give my message faithfully, " answered Mabel. "I must speak with herbefore the duties of her situation are resumed. Good night. "

"Good night to you, " muttered the woman, as Mabel walked away. "Iunderstand you, never doubt that. Agnes is beautiful, and keen enoughfor a dozen such as you. I thought it would work!"

Mrs. Harrington made the best of her way down the footpath which she hadthreaded, though the hollow was filled with gloom, and the whippowilcalled mournfully after her as she went. 

Her boat lay where she had left it in the mouth of the creek. As shestepped into it a cry broke from her lips, and turning, she lookedwildly up the hollow. A woman sprang over the boat as she stooped forthe oars, and with a single leap cleared the bank, landing with a boundin the footpath above her. 

One sharp glance she cast behind, then darted away as if eager to buryherself in the hemlock gloom. 

The leap had been so sudden and the whole progress so rapid, that Mabelscarcely saw the woman, but she remembered after, that her dress wasdusky red, and that a velvet cloak swept from her shoulders downward tothe ground, half torn from her person in its abrupt movements. As shestood lost in amazement at this singular apparition, Mabel fancied thatshe heard the dip of oars, and could detect the dim outline of a boatmaking up the river. 

She sat down mute, and troubled, looking after what seemed at best afloating shadow; the night had darkened rapidly, and instead of the newmoon which should have silvered the sky, came billows of black, angryclouds, in which the thunder began to roll and mutter hoarse threats ofa storm. Frightened by the brooding tempest, Mabel pushed her boat outfrom the shore, and began to row vigorously homeward; but she hadscarcely got into deep water when the clouds became black as midnight;the winds rose furiously, lashing the waters and raging fiercely throughthe tree tops, while burst after burst of thunder broke over the hills. She could only see her course clearly when flashes of lightning shot atintervals through the trees, and broke in gleams of scattered fire amongthe waves, now dashing and leaping angrily around her. 

Mabel was excited out of her anxieties by this turmoil. There wassomething in the force and suddenness of the storm that aroused all hercourage. The vexed trees were bent and torn by the winds. The river waslashed into a sea of foam, over which her frail boat leaped andquivered like a living thing; but she sat steady in the midst, pale andfirm, taking advantage of each gleam of lightning to fix her course, andfacing the storm with a steady bravery which had no fear of death. 

Still the tempest rose and lashed itself into fury from the rocky coastto the depths of the stream, and the little boat went plunging throughit, keeping the brave woman safe. The oars were useless as rushes in herhands. The waves leaped upward as the wind lashed them, and at timesrushed entirely over her. It was a fearful sight, that noble woman, allalone with the storm! so close to death and yet so resolute! Blacker andnearer grew the clouds torn by whirlwinds, and shooting out lurid gleamsof lightning, that flashed and curled along the water like fieryserpents chasing each other into their boiling depths. So great was thetumult that another sound, which came like a smothered howl through thestorm, seemed but a part of it. Thus Mabel was unconscious of this newdanger, till a glare of lightning swept everything else aside, andbearing directly toward her, she saw a huge steamer ploughing throughthe tempest, on her downward course. 

Scarce had she time to recoil with horror from the danger, when it waswrapped in darkness again, and she could only guess of its approach bythe cabin windows that glared upon her nearer and nearer, like greatfiery eyes half blinded by the storm. Mabel nerved herself, and with adesperate effort bent her strength upon the oars. But the heave of thewaters tore one from her grasp, and the other remained useless. Humanstrength was of no avail now. She was given up to the tempest, and couldonly cling to the reeling boat mute with horror, still with a thought ofthose she loved vital at her heart. Another sheet of lightning, blue andlivid, rolled down the hills, and in it, standing upon a spur of rocks, she saw James Harrington, either in life or in spirit, looking forthupon the river. His figure took the deadly hue of the light. Hisgarments shook to the storm. The pale flame quivered around him amoment, and he was engulphed in darkness again. 

Mabel flung up her hands with a cry that cut through the storm like anarrow. 

"Save me! save me! oh, my God! my God!"

Her pale hands quivered in the lightning. The shrieks that rang from herwhite lips were smothered in the fierce wind. The tortured boat seemedflinging her out to utter despair. 

A roar that was not of the elements, now broke through all the tumult. There came a rush--an upheaving of the waters, which flung her high intothe darkness--a blow that made her little bark quake in all itstimbers--a plunge--a black rush of waters. She was hurled beneath thewheels of the steamer--engulphed in utter darkness. It was her laststruggle with the storm. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE UNEXPECTED PASSENGER. 

While Ben Benson was landing Ralph Harrington and Lina, he lost sight ofthe boat which had so effectually aroused his interest, and when he wasready to put out again, it was lost in the inequalities of the shore. 

Ben put out into the river, bearing towards the opposite bank at first, but meeting with no signs of his object, he returned again, consumingtime, and thus giving considerable start to Mrs. Harrington's littlecraft. 

As Ben neared the land again, he saw a gleam of crimson garments throughthe evergreens that fringed the rocky shore, and remembering the shawlwhich Mabel had on, was overjoyed to know that she had landed, and wascomparatively safe from the storm, which grew more and more assured inits signs. 

With his anxieties thus appeased, Ben rowed his boat more securely tothe nearest point that promised a safe landing, resolved to court therecognition of his mistress, and when she was weary of her ramble, convey her safely home again. 

When he reached the desired point, Ben could see that the crimsongarments were moving through the undergrowth with a pace more rapid thanany mere rambler would have chosen; but what surprised him was thecourse pursued down the river. His mistress, if frightened by theclouds, would doubtless have turned homeward. 

Ben stood up in his boat and waved his tarpaulin with energy. 

"Hallo--Madam--Mrs. Harrington, I say, there's thunder and war ahead, Itell you. Don't go too far. Don't go out of sight. The water's a-gettingroughish now, and the woods won't be safe after the clouds burst!"

Ben sent these words through an impromptu speaking trumpet made with onehand curved around his mouth. He was well pleased with the effect, forthe red garments began to flutter, and he saw that the wearer was movingrapidly down the hill towards the point where he lay. 

"That's what I call obeying signals at once!" said the honest fellow, seating himself in the stern of his boat. "But she knows as Ben Bensonwouldn't take the liberty of hurrying her if he hadn't a good reason forwhat he's a-doin'--not he!"

And with this complacent reflection, Ben withdrew the tobacco from hismouth, and sent it far into the water, remembering Mrs. Harrington'sobjections to the weed, and ready to send his life after that, if itcould afford her a moment's gratification. 

"Ben, " said he, looking after the tobacco as it was tossed from one waveto another, and shaking his fist after it in virtuous indignation, "that's a habit as you ought to be ashamed on, Ben Benson, a habit as nodog wouldn't take from you on any account, yet you've just kept it upchawing and chawing from morning till night, till she'll catch you at itsome day, and then you'll have done for yourself, and no mistake. Ishould like to see her a-settin' in your boat arter that. Tobackee 'llbe the ruin of you yit, Ben. Grog's nothing to it. "

A light step upon the moss silenced the boatman, but he kept hisposition, resolved to be very severe with himself for his manifold sins, this of tobacco being uppermost. 

"Mr. Benson, you are kind, I am so much obliged!"

Ben started. The voice was a pleasant one, but his rough heart sunk lowwith disappointment--the tones were not those of Mrs. Harrington. 

"I could not possibly have reached home on foot, " said the same sweetvoice, and a young lady sprang lightly into the boat. "I hope the riverwill prove safe!"

"I was waiting for Mrs. Harrington, marm, and mistook you forher--that's all, " said Ben, without lifting his eyes to the singulargirl that stood close to him. 

"Mrs. Harrington has gone down the river long ago--she passed that pointof land with the last sunbeam, " said the young girl, seating herselfcomfortably among the cushions. 

"Are you sartin of that ere?" questioned Ben, taking up his oarshurriedly. "Just give me her bearing, and I'll show you what rowing is. "

"You can't possibly have a better pilot than I am, " answered the lady, laughing till a row of closely set but uneven teeth were visible in thewaning light. "In searching for Mrs. Harrington, you will naturally takeme homeward; when she is found, I will allow myself to be set ashore. "

"The shore's no fit place for a young gal arter dark, " said Ben gruffly, but pushing his boat out into the stream. "For my part, I can't make outwhat brings you up into the hills so often. Why don't you come home forgood and all? Miss Lina don't want any more vacation, I reckon. "

"Oh, my health isn't quite established yet, Mr. Benson, " said the girl, looking at the boatman with a sidelong glance of her black, almond-shaped eyes, a glance that Ben was internally comparing to thatof the rattlesnake, when he shrank off into a hollow of the rocks. 

"I shouldn't think it very wholesome to be out so much at night!" saidBen. 

"Oh, I live on fresh air, and love it best when moist with dew!"answered the girl. 

"If it ain't moist with something stronger than dew afore long, I losemy guess!" muttered Ben, looking upward. "If this night don't see areg'lar tornado, I'll give up--beat. "

For a short time Ben plied his oars, casting anxious glances down theshore, hoping to find Mrs. Harrington and her boat safe in some inlet orcove, waiting for them. 

"In course, " said Ben, muttering as usual to himself. "In course, she'dknow, as I was sure to come. What on the Lord's arth is Ben Benson goodfor, but to follow arter and tend on her? The king of all the SandwichIslands couldn't have a higher business than that, let alone a poorfeller of a boatman, as has circumwented his sea voyages down to a pairof oars and a passenger that's not over agreeable. "

"Whom are you talking to, Mr. Benson?" inquired the young lady, wastinga smile on the moody boatman, though the threatening sky made hersomewhat anxious about her own safety. 

"To an individual as calls hisself Ben Benson. He's a feller as bearswith my faults better than anybody else, as I knows on, and one as israther particular about being intruded on, when he's holding a privateconversation with hisself. That's the individual, Miss Agnes, as I was aholding a council with. "

"And you would a little rather have no interruption--is that it?" saidthe lady. "Well, well, I can be silent, you shall see that!"

"Doubtful!" muttered Ben, using his oars with fresh vigor. 

The girl he called Agnes, folded her cloak about her and settled downamong the cushions, casting wistful glances at the sky. "Look, " she saidat last, pointing upward, "those small lead-colored clouds, how darklythey drift together! Did you ever see a flock of pigeons flying over thewestern woods, Mr. Benson?"

"Knew she wouldn't do it, " muttered Ben, with his eyes bent on theclouds. 

"See, see!" cried the girl. "The sky is black--I have seen the samething!"

"But them was nothing but innocent birds a flying after something toeat, " said Ben. "These ere clouds, Miss Agnes, has got a good manyunroofed housen', and shipwrecks, and trees broken in two, and torn upby the roots, in 'em, to say nothing of this ere boat as may be upsotany minute. "

The girl turned pale; her black eyes shone with sudden fear. 

"Do you think there is really any danger, Mr. Benson?"

"Danger? Of course there's danger! What did I follow arter that littleboat for, if there wasn't no danger?"

"Perhaps--perhaps, " said Agnes tremulously, "it would be safer on shore. The walk will not be much now. What do you say to running ashore?"

"There'll be a howling among the rocks afore you get round the firstpoint, that 'ud take your breath; besides, when the winds begin to rushthere'll be a crashing down of trees, and broken limbs will be flyingthick enough. No, no--unsartain as the river is, you'd better keepstill. I don't want your death on my conscience, any how. "

"But can you swim if we should capsize?" questioned Agnes, growing paleand cold. 

"Swim, can Ben Benson swim?" cried the boatman with a hoarse laugh. "Well, I should think that he can swim a trifle. "

The girl fixed her black eyes upon him. They were large and bright withterror. 

"Fast, pull fast, " she said, "let me help you--is there anything inwhich I can help you? How slow the boat goes--pull, pull!"

"We are agin the wind, and it's getting strongish, " answered Ben. 

"What can we do?" cried out the girl clasping her hands. "Hear how ithowls--how the trees begin to moan! Is not the storm at its height now?"

"You'll see by and by, " said Ben, bowing his moist forehead down to thesleeve of his jacket, and wiping away the perspiration that was nowfalling from it like rain. 

"Oh, what will become of us?" shrieked the girl. 

"What has become of _her_?" echoed Ben, casting sharp despairing glancestoward the shore, which was now darkened, and in a turmoil. 

"There is my home--there, there, on the side hill. A light is juststruck in the window. Set me on shore--oh, Mr. Benson, do set me onshore!"

"Not till I find _her_, " answered Ben, resolutely, "you would get in, somake the best of it. "

The girl grew white as death. 

"Let me ashore, or it will be my death--I am sick with terror, " shepleaded. 

Ben did not appear to listen. He was looking wildly down the stream, right and left, with despair in his glances. 

"Where is she? What can have become of her?" he cried out at last, sinking forward on his oars, and allowing the boat to struggle forherself against the wind. 

"At home, no doubt, " answered the girl, struck with a selfish thought, in which there was hope of safety. 

"How! What?" exclaimed Ben fiercely, "at home!"

"No doubt she left her boat in some cove and went home along the shore, "persisted the girl. "She would be sure to put in somewhere!"

Ben's face lighted up, and his eyes glowed with hope. 

"It may be--of course it is. She went back long ago, no doubt on it, " heexclaimed, joyfully. "Why Ben Benson, what a precious old fool you wasnot to think of that. Miss Agnes, I'll set you ashore now anywhereyou'll pint out, if the boat lives through it. "

"Now, now!" cried the girl, breathless with terror, "strike for landanywhere--I know the shore. Only put me on dry land again--it's all Iask. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

OUT OF THE STORM. 

Ben altered his course with a great effort, and forced a passage to thebroken shore. He was too busy in preserving his boat from being dashedupon the rocks, to remark with what eager selfishness the girl left him, only uttering a quick ejaculation, and darting away without thanks. Bythe time he could look around she had plunged into a neighboring ravine, and he saw no more of her. 

Though the current was running high, Ben had the whole force of the windto urge him on, and his steady seamanship made the progress up streamless dangerous than the descent had been. But the toil was great andevery muscle of his brawny arms rose to its full strain as he bent allhis strength upon the oars. But with his greatest anxieties at rest, Bencared little for this. With no life but his own at stake, the tempestwas nothing to the brave man. 

But it grew terrible. The boat was more than once hurled out of water. The waves dashed over him; the wind carried off his hat and beatfiercely against his head, sweeping the long hair over his face. Againand again the current wheeled his boat around, drifting it back with aforce he could not resist, sometimes close to the shore, sometimes outin the torrent of waters. It was impossible now to see his course, except by the lightning. The entire darkness baffled him more than thestorm. 

Once when the boat was seized upon and hurled backward, Ben sawinnumerable lights sweeping by in the fog between him and the shore, andhe uttered a shout of wild thanksgiving that the steamer had not run himdown. As the water heaved him to and fro, a glare of lightning revealedthis monster boat, moving downward, and--oh, horror of horrors! MabelHarrington, just as the vortex engulphed her. Two white arms were flungupward. Her hair streamed in the lightning. The deathly white face wasturned shoreward. 

The might of twenty men was in his arms then. He flung back the rushingwaves with his oars, and from a will fiercer than his strength, forcedhis boat toward her. In a minute the darkness of death was around him. Blasts of wind and great gushes of rain swept over him. He shoutedaloud. He beat the waters madly with his oars. He called upon God forone more flash of lightning. 

It came. He saw a distant steamer, an up-turned boat and somethingdarker than the foam heaving upon the waters. 

"Hold on! Hold on!--I'm coming--I'm coming--it's Ben--it's Ben. Oh God, give me light!"

He was answered. A crash of thunder--a trail of fire--and an old cedartree on the shore flamed up with the light he had prayed for. 

It flamed up and Ben saw a man plunge from the rocks into the boilingwaters. He bent to the oar, his boat rushed through the waves, and as hecame one way, that white face moved steadily from the shore. The waterswere buffeted fiercely around it. Some mighty power seemed to sweep backthe storm from where it moved. 

It disappeared, rose and sunk again. Ben pushed his boat to the spotwhere he had seen Mabel disappear. His bow dashed against the littleboat already broken in twain, and its fragments broke upon the water. Helooked wildly about. The face was gone. The dark heap which he had takenfor Mabel, had disappeared. Ben's strong arms began to tremble; tears ofanguish met the beating rain, as it broke over his face. Despair seizedupon him. He dashed his oars into the bottom of the boat and stood up, ready for a plunge. He would never go back and say that his mistress hadbeen suffered to drown before his face. His clasped hands wereuplifted--the boat reeled under him--he was poised for the mad plunge!

No, his hands fell. A hoarse shout broke from him. 

"Here, here I am! here--away!"

He seized the oars again, looking wildly around, for the voice that hadhailed him by name, up from the deep, as it seemed. It came again, andclose by the boat that grand head appeared struggling for life. 

Ben struck out his oars. 

"Do not move--do not strike, or you may kill her yet!"

"Is she there? Can you hold on?" cried Ben, trembling in every limb ofhis stout frame. 

A hand seized one side of the boat. Close to the manly head he had seen, was the marble face of Mabel Harrington, half veiled by tresses of wethair. Ben fell upon his knees, and plunging his arms into the waves, drew her into the boat. 

"For the shore--for your life!" shouted James Harrington, refusing to behelped, but clinging to the boat. "No, no--strike out; I will holdon--pull--pull!"

Ben took off his coat, and rolling it in a bundle, placed it under MabelHarrington's head. It was all he could do. The boat was a third full ofwater, and he had nothing else. 

"Get in--get in--or she will be drowned over again!" he pleaded, seizingJames Harrington by the shoulders, and dragging him over the side. "Getdown, keep her head out of water, and it'll take a worse storm than thisto drive me back. "

Harrington fell rather than sat down, and took Mabel in his arms, closeto a heart so chilled that it had almost ceased beating. But as her coldface fell upon his bosom, a glow of life came back to it, with a pang ofunsupportable feeling. It was not joy--it was not sorrow--but the warmthin his veins seemed like a sweet poison, which would end in death. 

He put the numb and senseless form aside with a great effort, restingthe head upon Ben's coat. Twice he attempted to speak, but his tremblinglips uttered nothing but broken moans. 

"Take her, " he said to Ben, "take her and I will pull the oars. "

"You haven't life enough in you, sir, " pleaded Ben, shrinking from theproposal. 

"I am strong again, " said Harrington, placing himself on the seat andtaking the oars. "See!"

The boat plunged heavily shoreward. Ben held his mistress with a sort ofterror at the sacrilege. His brawny arms trembled around her. He turnedhis face to the storm, rather than allow his eyes to rest upon her. ButJames Harrington had no compassion; he still kept to the oars. 

At last they shot into a point of the shore, formed by two or threejutting rocks. Harrington dropped the oars, and the two men lifted MabelHarrington from the boat, and bore her to a slope of the hill. Noshelter was in sight. The sudden storm was abating, but rain stilldropped in showers from the trees. 

"Where can we convey her? What shall we do?" said Harrington, lookingaround in dismay. "She will perish before we can obtain warmth, if sheis not already gone. "

Ben had flung down his coat. They laid her upon it. James Harringtonknelt upon the turf, and lifted her head to his knee. The face was paleas death; purple shadows lay about the mouth, and under the eyes; herflesh was cold as marble. 

Again the deathly cold came creeping to Harrington's heart. He shudderedfrom head to foot, "She is dead--she is dead!" broke from his chilledlips. 

"Oh, Mr. Harrington, Mr. Harrington, what can we do? What can we do?"groaned Ben, clasping his huge hands, and crying like a child over thepoor lady. "She isn't dead--don't! That word is enough to kill a poormiserable feller, as wanted to die for her and couldn't. "

His only answer was a low moan from James Harrington. 

"Is there no house, no living soul near to give us help?" said JamesHarrington, lifting his white face to that of Ben Benson, while hisvoice shook, and his arms trembled around the cold form they halfsupported, half embraced. "If there is a spark of life left it will goout in this cold--if she is dead--"

"Don't! oh, Mister James, don't!" cried Ben wringing his hands withfresh violence, "them's cruel words to stun a poor fellow's heartwith--she ain't dead, God don't take his angels up to glory in that 'ereway!"

James laid Mabel reverently from his arms, and stood up casting anxiousglances through the storm. 

"There is a light, yonder upon the hill-side, --you can just see itthrough the drifting clouds--go, Ben, climb for your life and bring ushelp!"

Ben stooped down, clapped a hand on each knee and took an observation. 

"There is a light, that's sartin, " he said joyfully, settling himself inhis wet clothes and making a start for the hill; but directly he turnedback again. 

"If she's so near gone as you speak on, Mister James, it wouldn't be ofno use for me to go up there for help--she'd be chilled through andthrough, till there was no bringing her back, long afore I couldhalf-way climb the hill!"

"I fear it, I fear it!" said Harrington, looking mournfully down on thewhite face at his feet, "God help her!"

"See, " said Ben stretching forth his hand towards the burning cedar, "God Almighty has gin us light and fire close by--the grass is crispedand dried up all around that tree. What if we carry the madam there?I'll go up the hill with a heart in it arter that!"

Ben stooped as if about to take the cold form of his mistress in hisarms, but as his hands touched her garments some inward restraint fellupon him, and he drew back, looking wistfully from Harrington to theprostrate woman he dared not raise from the earth even in her extremity. 

As he stooped a strange light had flashed into James Harrington's eyes, and he made a motion as if to push the poor boatman aside. 

Ben did not see this, as we have said, his retreat was a voluntaryimpulse. He saw James Harrington take up the form he dared not touch, with a feeling of deep humiliation, submitting to the abrupt and sternmanner which accompanied the action, as a well deserved rebuke for hisboldness. 

A small ravine separated the point of land occupied by the little partyfrom the burning cedar, and towards this Harrington bore his silentburden. His cheeks grew deadly pale from a feeling deeper than fear orcold, and his eyes flashed back the gleams of light that reached himfrom the burning tree with a wild splendor that no mortal man had everseen in them before. 

He held Mabel closer and closer to his heart, which rose and heavedbeneath its burden; his breath came in broken volumes from his chest, and an insane belief seized upon him, that though dead he could arouseher from that icy sleep, by forcing the breath of his own abundantexistence through her lips. 

Fired by this wild thought he bowed his head nearer and nearer to thepallid face upon his shoulder. But the voice of Ben Benson brought himback to sanity again. 

"Be careful, sir! The hollow is full of ruts and broken stones! She istoo heavy--You stagger and reel like a craft that has lost her helm!Steady, sir--steady, or she'll be hurt!"

James Harrington stopped suddenly, as if a war trumpet had checked hisprogress. His face changed in the burning light. His arms relaxed aroundthe form they had clasped so firmly a moment before. 

"Take her!" he said, with an imploring look. "Take her! I am very weak. You see how I falter--Take her, Benson. She is not heavy, it is only Ithat have lost all strength!"

Ben reached forth his brawny arms, as we sometimes see a greatschool-boy receive a baby sister, and folded them reverently around theform which Harrington relinquished with a sigh of unutterablehumiliation. 

Ben moved forward with a quick firm tread, following Harrington, whowent before trampling down the undergrowth, and putting aside thedrooping branches from his path. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE BURNING CEDAR. 

The cedar tree stood on a slope of the bank, and had cast its fiery rainover the herbage and brushwood for yards around, leaving them crispedand dry. 

Harrington gathered up a quantity of the seared grass, and heaped a drycouch upon which Ben laid his charge within the genial heat that camefrom the cedar tree. Then they gathered up all the combustible matterwithin reach, and began to kindle a fire so near to the place where shelay that its heat must help to drive back the chill of death if therewas a spark of life yet vital in her bosom. 

Harrington knelt beside Mabel. He chafed her hands between his own, andwrung the water from her long hair. But it all seemed in vain. No colorcame to those blue fingers. The purple tinge still lay like the shadowof violets under the closed eyes, --no motion of the chest--no stir ofthe limbs. At last drops of water came oozing through the white lips, and a scarcely perceptible shiver ran through the limbs. 

"It is life!" said Harrington, lifting his radiant face to the boatman. 

"Are you sartin it ain't the wind a stirring her gown?" asked Ben, trembling between anxiety and delight. 

"No, no--her chest heaves, --she struggles. It is life, precious, holylife; God has given her back to us, Ben!"

"I don't know--I ain't quite sartin yet, if she'd only open her eyes, orlift her hand!" exclaimed the poor fellow. 

Here a faint groan broke from the object of his solicitude, and shebegan to struggle upon the ground. 

"Go, " said Harrington, "search out the light we saw--she will need restand shelter more than anything now. "

"I will, in course I will--only let me be sartin she's coming to. "

The good fellow knelt down by Mabel as he spoke, and lifting her hand inhis, laid it to his rough cheek. 

"It's alive--it moves like a drenched bird put back in its nest--I'll gonow, Mister James, but d'ye see I felt like thanking the great Admiralup aloft there, and didn't want no mistake about it. "

"Yes, we may well thank God; she lives, " said Harrington, looking downupon Mabel with tears in his eyes. 

"Then I _do_ thank God, soul and body, I thanks him, " answered Ben, throwing his clasped hands aloft, "and if I was commander of thestoutest man-of-war as ever floated, I'd thank him all the same. "

With these words Ben disappeared in the undergrowth and proceeded insearch of help. 

Admonished by the throes and struggles which proclaimed a painful returnof life, Harrington lifted Mabel to a sitting posture and supported herthere. His heart was wrung by every spasm of anguish that swept overher; yet at each one, he sent up a brief thanksgiving, for it was aproof of returning consciousness. Still she looked very deathly, and thesighs that broke through her pale lips seemed like an echo of somestruggling pang within. 

"Mabel, " said Harrington, catching his breath as the name escaped hislips, "Mabel, do you understand?--are you better, Mabel?"

The name once spoken it seemed as if he could not repeat it oftenenough, it fell so like music upon his soul. 

She struggled faintly--a thrill ran through her frame, and both lips andeyelids began to quiver. 

"Who calls me?" she said, in a whisper. "Who calls and where am I?"

Her eyes were open now, and the refulgence falling around her from theburning cedar, seemed like the glory of heaven. In that light she sawonly James Harrington bending over her. A smile bright and pure, as ifshe had been in truth an angel, stole over her face. 

"Yes, " she whispered with a sigh of ineffable happiness, "he may call meMabel here. "

He could not distinguish her words, but knew from the light upon herface, that she was very happy. His own features grew luminous. 

"Mabel, have you ceased to suffer?" he said. 

Her eyes were closed in gentle weariness now, but the smile came freshupon her features, and she murmured dreamily:

"There is no suffering here--nothing but heaven and our two selves. "

Oh, James Harrington, be careful now! You have heard those softwords--you have drank in the glory of that smile. In all your life whattemptation has equalled this?

For one delirious moment the strong man gave himself up to the joy ofthose words: for one moment his hands were uplifted inthanksgiving--then they were clasped and fell heavily to the earth, anda flood of bitter, bitter self-reproach flowed silently from his heart. Mabel moved like a child that had been lulled to rest by the music of adear voice. She thirsted for the sound again. 

"Did not some one call me Mabel?" she asked. 

Harrington was firm now, and he answered calmly:

"Yes, Mrs. Harrington, it was I. "

"Mrs. Harrington, " muttered Mabel in a troubled tone, "how came thatname here? It is of earth, earthy. "

"We are all of earth, " answered James, strong in self command. "You havebeen ill, Mrs. Harrington, drenched through, and almost drowned--but, thank God, your life is saved. "

"My life is saved, and am I yet of earth? Then what is this light soheavenly, and yet so false!"

"The storm which overwhelmed your boat struck this light. It is from atree smitten with fire. "

"And you?" questioned Mabel, but very mournfully. "You are GeneralHarrington's guest, and I am his wife?"

"Even so, dear lady!"

Mabel turned her head and tears stole softly from beneath her closedlashes. How could she reconcile herself to life again? To be thus tornback from a sweet delusion, was more painful than all the pangs she hadsuffered. 

They were silent now. For one moment they had met, soul to soul, but theold barriers were fast springing up between them, barriers that made thehearts of both heavy as death, yet neither would have lifted a hand totear them away. 

Mabel at last quietly wiped the tears from her eyes and sat up. Shestill shivered and her face was pale, but she smiled yet, only the smilewas so touchingly sad. 

"I must have been quite gone, --why did you bring me back?" she said. 

"Why did we bring you back, " repeated Harrington with a sudden outburstof passion, "why did we bring you back!" He checked himself and went onmore calmly. "It is the duty of every one to save life, Mrs. Harrington, and to receive it gratefully when, by God's mercy, it is saved. "

"I know, I know, " she answered, attempting to gather up the tresses ofher hair, "I shall be grateful for this gift of life to-morrow; butnow--indeed I am, very thankful that you saved me. "

"It was Ben more than myself--but for him you would have been lost, "answered Harrington, rejecting her sweet gratitude with stoicism. "Hefollowed you in his boat through all the storm, and was nearly lost withyou!"

"Poor Ben!" she said, "faithful always, I had not thought of him, thoughhe saved my life. "

Harrington had claimed all her gratitude for Ben with resoluteself-restraint; but when she acknowledged it so kindly, he could nothelp feeling somewhat wronged. But against such impulses he had armedhimself, and directly cast them aside. 

"How strange everything looks, " she said, "are those stars breakingthrough between the clouds? They seem very pale and sad, after the lightthat dazzled me when I first awoke: then there is a mournful soundcoming through the trees--the waters, I suppose. After all, this earthdoes seem very dark and sorrowful, to which you have brought me back. "

"You are ill yet--you suffer, perhaps?"

"No, I am only sad!"

And so was he. Her mournful voice--the reluctance with which she tookback the burden of life, pained him, yet he could offer no adequateconsolation. Commonplaces are a mockery with persons who know that thereare thoughts in the depths of the soul, which must not be spoken, thoughthey color every other thought. Silence or subterfuge is the only refugefor those who dare not speak frankly. 

Thus without a word, for they were too honest for pretence, the tworemained together listening to the low sob of the winds and to the rainthat dripped from the leaves, long after it had ceased to fall from theclouds. This hush of the storm was oppressive more to Harrington thanthe lady. She was languid and dreamy lying upon her couch of dry leaves, very feeble and weeping quietly without a sob, like a helpless childwho has no language but tears and laughter. In this entire prostrationof the nervous system, she forgot--if she had ever been conscious of thewords that filled him with a tumult of painful feelings. 

He moved a little from the place where Mabel lay, and burying his facein both hands, remained perfectly still, lifting a solemn petitionheavenward from his silent heart, not that she might live--not even ofthanksgiving--but a subdued cry for strength rose up with the might ofhis whole being, a cry so ardent and sincere, that its very intensitykept him still. 

CHAPTER X. 

HOME IN SAFETY. 

While this was going on in that struggling heart a black shadow hadcrept close to the man, and Agnes Barker stood between him and Mabel, leaving her in the firelight, but shutting it out from him. 

He did not feel the darkness, and the girl stood by him more than aminute before he looked up. 

Mabel moved with a faint expression of pain, as if she felt the shadowof some evil thing falling athwart the light; but she did not uncloseher eyes, and Agnes, who had been for some time within earshot, spokebefore her presence was recognized. 

"Is there anything I can do?" she said in her usual low tones. 

James lifted his head, bowed almost to the dust in the humility of hisprayer, and saw this strange girl standing before him, her red garmentsglowing in the firelight, her arms folded on her bosom, and her eyesglittering beneath their long lashes, like half-buried diamonds. Sheseemed so like an embodiment of the evil passions he had prayed against, that he sat mute and pale, gazing upon her. 

"You look deathly. You are hurt, " she said, stooping toward him with agesture at once subtle and fascinating. "I saw her boat engulphed--I sawyou plunge into the stream--the storm was raging through the woods, butI came through it all. "

Still Harrington remained silent, gazing fixedly upon her, so astonishedby her presence that he did not heed her words. 

"The lady is not dead, " continued the girl, looking over her shoulders, while her garment grew dusky, and lurid in the waning light. "I heardher speaking, but a few moments ago. "

James Harrington arose to his feet with grave dignity. 

"You have come in good time, Miss Barker, " he said. "If your cloak isdry throw it around her; even in this warmth she shivers. "

Agnes looked back as she drew off her short cloak, and held the garmentirresolutely in her hand. 

"But you are wet and cold, too, wrap the cloak around yourself. Whatlife can be more precious!"

She said this in a low voice, and moved towards him. He put the garmentaside, and passing Agnes, stooped over Mrs. Harrington, addressing herin a grave, gentle voice. 

"Are you stronger, now, dear lady?"

"I think so!" answered Mabel, moving uneasily, "but some one else ishere--I heard speaking!"

"It was me, " answered Agnes, spreading her cloak softly over Mabel; "Isaw your peril, dear Mrs. Harrington, and came to offer help. My oldnurse lives upon the hill--if you can walk so far, she will be glad toshelter you. "

Mabel attempted to sit up. The presence of Agnes Barker excited herwith new strength. She pushed aside the cloak with a feeling ofrepulsion, and looked pleadingly on Harrington. 

"You will not take me up there!" she said. "It is a dreary, drearyplace!"

"But it is the only shelter at hand, " urged Harrington. 

"I know; but that woman--don't place me, helpless as I am, with thatstrange woman!"

"You will find a capital nurse there; I left her preparing a warm bed!"whispered Agnes, stooping toward Harrington, till her breath floatedacross his face; "the walk is a little toilsome, but short; between us, I think she could manage it. "

Mabel heard the whisper, and sinking back on her bed of leaves, pleadedagainst the measure. 

"I cannot go up there, " she said with some resolution, "I could not restwith that woman near. "

"Of whom does she speak?" inquired Harrington. 

"It is impossible for me to guess; the fright has unsettled her mind, Ifear, " answered Agnes. 

"No, I am sane enough, " murmured Mrs. Harrington, "but I have beenwarned. No human voice ever spoke more plainly than that lone nightbird, as I went up the hollow--he knew that it was unholy ground I trodupon!"

"But you are not strong enough to reach home, " persisted the girl Agnes, "the river is yet rough--the wind unsettled. "

"She is well enough to go just where she's a mind to, I reckon, " saidBen Benson, crashing through the undergrowth, "and I'm here to help herdo it. "

"Thank you, " said Mabel, gently, "I wish to go home!"

Ben turned towards Harrington, and, without regard to the presence ofAgnes, spoke his mind. 

"I don't like the cut of things up yonder, somehow. The woman looks likea female Judas Iscariot. She's eager but not kind. The madam is betteroff here with the old tree to warm her. "

Agnes kept her eyes steadily on Ben as he spoke; when he had finished, she laughed. 

"You are complimentary to my mammy!" she said, "I will tell her youropinion. But have your own way. We have offered hospitality to the ladyin good faith--if she prefers other shelter, I dare say we shall findthe means of reconciling ourselves to her wishes and to your veryflattering opinion, Mr. Boatman. "

Ben threw back his right foot and made the young lady a nautical bow, accompanied with an overwhelming flourish of the hand. 

"Delighted to hear as you and the old woman is agreeable. Now if you'djust as lieves, we'll try and get madam down to the boat; I've justbailed it out. The river may be a trifle roughish yet, but there's nodanger. "

Ben directed this portion of his speech to Mr. James Harrington, whostood by in silence, without appearing to regard the conversation. 

He now stepped forward, and stooping over Mabel, inquired if she waswilling, and felt strong enough to attempt a return home by water. 

"Yes, " answered Mabel, sitting up and striving to arrange her dress, "Iam stronger now--take me home by all means. General Harrington will beterrified by my absence, and Lina--dear, dear Lina, how grateful shewill be to have her mother back again!"

"And your son!" said Harrington gently. 

"Oh, if I did not mention him, he is always here!" answered Mabel, pressing a hand to her heart, and looking upward with a face beamingwith vivid tenderness; "I never knew how much of love was in my soulbefore. "

How unconscious the noble woman was of her dreamy wanderings ofspeech--how pure and trustful was the look which she fixed uponHarrington's face as she said this. A holy thankfulness pervaded herwhole being; from the black deep she seemed to have gathered a world ofbeautiful strength. 

"Come, " she said, struggling to her feet and smiling in gentle derisionof her weakness, as she felt her head begin to reel, "I am not afraid totry the boat again, if some one will help me. "

Harrington did not move, and after a perplexed look from one to theother, Ben stooped his shoulder that she might lean upon it. 

When they reached the boat, Mabel was almost exhausted, but she foundstrength to think of Agnes, who had silently followed them. 

"Will you not get in?" she said, faintly, "I should be glad to have youwith me. "

"No, " answered the girl, in the sweetest of all accents, "nurse would beterrified to death. I will return home. "

"Not alone, " said James Harrington, "that must not be. "

"Oh, Mr. Harrington, I am used to being alone. It is the fate of a poorgirl like me!"

There was something plaintive in her voice, and she drooped meeklyforward, as if imploring pardon for having said so much. 

Harrington remained a moment thoughtful; at last he addressed Ben. 

"Proceed up the river, " he said, "slowly it must be, for the stream isagainst you. I will see that Miss Barker reaches home safely, andovertake you. "

Ben looked up in astonishment. "Why, Mister James, she's allers alone inthese ere woods. No blackbird knows the bush better, what's the use?"

Mabel said nothing, but her eyes turned upon Harrington with a wistfuland surprised look. 

"No matter, she must not go through the woods alone, " answeredHarrington. "Keep snug to the shore, and be ready to answer my hail; Iwill overtake you in a few minutes. "

Harrington moved away as he uttered these words, following Agnes intothe woods. 

Mabel looked after them with sadness in her eyes; then, bowing her facesoftly upon her folded arms, she remained motionless, save that her lipsmoved, and broken whispers which the angels of Heaven gathered and laidbefore the throne of God, stole through them. They had advanced somedistance up the shore, when Harrington hailed the boat; Ben did notpretend to hear him, but Mabel, lifting her face, now full ofgentleness, said, with a smile--

"Stop, Ben, he is calling for you!"

"Let him call and be----" Ben caught the profane word in his teeth, andswallowing it with a great struggle, commenced again--

"Let him call till he's tired, why didn't he stay with that old Judasand the young witch. To think of going off with sich like, and madamejust a dying--halloo away, Ben Benson 'll sink afore he hears you!"

Ben muttered this between his teeth, and worked away at the oars, doggedly resolved to continue his fit of deafness, and give his master amidnight walk through the dripping and rough woods, but Mabel addressedhim again with a quiet firmness which he could not find the heart toresist. 

"Put on shore, Ben, and take your master in. "

"I begin to thing he's took us all in a little too often!" muttered Ben;but he turned reluctantly for the shore, and Harrington, withoutspeaking, took his place in the boat. 

The moon had broken through the drift-clouds left by the storm, beforethe little party reached the cove below General Harrington's dwelling. The front of the house was entirely dark, but lights wandered to and froalong the hollow, and anxious voices were heard calling to each otheralong the bank. 

"They're out searching for us!" said Ben, dropping his oars and makingan impromptu speaking-trumpet of his hand. Directly his voice rang alongthe shore. 

"Ben Benson, and passengers from down stream. All well!"

A shout answered from the shore, and directly eager voices and rapidfootsteps rushed toward the little cove; first came Ralph, wild withjoy, leaping downward like a panther. 

"Is she safe! is she here!" he cried, pausing with dread upon the bank. 

"Ralph, Ralph!"

He knew the voice. He sprang into the boat, and fell upon his kneesbefore his mother. 

"Thank God, oh mother, mother!"

He could say no more. Unspeakable joy choked his utterance. He kissedher hands, her face, and her wet robes. 

"Mother, mother, tell me what has happened! You are cold--youtremble--all your clothes are wet--your bonnet is off--that dear paleface, oh mother, you have been in danger, and I not there!"

His love gave her strength. She took his head between her tremblinghands, and kissed him again and again on the forehead. 

"Oh, yes, my Ralph, I have been very near death--but with all this tolive for, God would not let me die. "

"No, no, he could not make us so wretched. Oh, mother, what would homebe without you? It is only an hour or two since we missed you; but thosehours were full of desolation. Tell me--tell me how it was!"

"They did it--they will tell you--I was in the depths of the river, butthey drew me out. "

"They, my brother James, and that blessed old rogue, Ben Benson, didthey save you, mother, while I--I, your only son--was dreaming at home?Oh, James, must I thank you for my mother, with all the rest!"

"Thank God, Ralph, for He has saved your mother!"

His voice was impressive and solemn. It seemed like a rebuke to theardent gratitude of the young man. 

"I do thank God, brother James, " he answered reverently, uncovering hishead. "But, to be grateful to God's creatures is, so far, giving thanksto Him! How often have you told me this?"

"You are right, " answered James gently, "but see, your mother needsassistance!"

Mabel had risen, and was making ready to step from the boat. Ralphturned, flung one arm around her. 

"Lean on me, dear mother. Lay your head on my shoulder; don't mind theweight; I can carry you, if needful!"

Mabel submitted herself to the affectionate guidance of her son, with asigh of pleasure, and proceeded towards the house. 

CHAPTER XI. 

GENERAL HARRINGTON IS SHOCKED. 

The rigid ideas of female propriety which General Harrington enforced inhis family, had been greatly outraged that day. This well-regulated homewas thrown into disorder by the unaccountable absence of his wife andLina from the tea-table. He had followed his wife to the bank of theriver, and with a feeling of quiet indignation had watched her rowingher own boat down the stream like a wild gipsy. The gathering storm andthe danger she was in scarcely impressed him, but the impropriety ofthe thing outraged all his fastidiousness. 

Still he was glad to have her away for the brief time that he was in thehills, and but for her long absence this escapade on the river mighthave been forgiven. 

A solitary evening, added to these causes of discontent, had greatlyruffled the general's equanimity of temper, and when his wife appeareddeep in the night, her clothes in disorder, her hair disarranged, andher face pale as death, he felt her return in this state as a positiveinsult to his house. 

"Madam, " he said, with that quiet irony which was the gift of his coldnature, "it is rather late, and your toilet somewhat disarranged for thepresence of gentlemen; allow me to lead you to a mirror. " It was notnecessary; Mabel had seen herself reflected in the great oval glassopposite, and shrunk back, shocked both by her appearance and the coldinsult to which it had given rise. 

James Harrington remained silent, but his eyes grew bright withindignation, while Ralph flung one arm around his mother's waist, andturned his bright face upon the general. 

"My mother's life has been in peril--she comes back to us, father, almost cold from the dead. "

"Indeed!" said the general with a look of cold surprise. "Surely, madam, you did not remain out in the storm? You have not been on the river allthis time?"

"I have been in the depths of the river, I believe!" answered Mabel. "The boat was upset--I was dashed beneath the wheels of a steamer, butfor--" She hesitated, and a red flush shot over her face; the noblewoman recovered herself in an instant, "but for James, and Ben Benson. "

An answering flush came to the general's cheek. He darted a quick glanceat James. 

"And how came Mr. Harrington so near you, madam? They told me you hadgone upon the river alone. "

"And so she did, " answered James, stepping forward. "I saw her put outfrom the shore, apparently unconscious of the coming storm, and followedthe course of her boat. "

"Why did you not warn her, sir?"

"I did, more than once at the top of my voice, but the wind was againstme!"

"And where did all this happen?" inquired the general, more interestedthan he had been. 

"Near a ravine, some distance down the stream. You will not perhaps beable to recognize the place, sir, " answered Mabel, "but it is nearlyopposite the small house in which Miss Barker resides with her mother. "

The general did not start, but a strange expression crept over hisfeatures, as if he were becoming more interested and less pleased. 

"May I ask you what took you in that direction, madam?"

"Nothing better than a caprice, I fear, " answered Mabel; "at first Iwent out for exercise and solitude, then remembering Miss Barker, I puton shore. "

"Surely you did not go to that house!" cried the general, interruptingher almost for the first time in his life. 

"Yes, I went, " answered Mabel with simplicity. 

"Indeed! and what did you find--whom did you see?"

"I saw a dusky woman, rude and insolent, who called herself AgnesBarker's nurse--nothing more. "

"So you found an insolent woman. "

"A very disagreeable one, at least, General Harrington, but I am faintand ill--permit me to answer all farther questions to-morrow!"

General Harrington's manner imperceptibly changed; he no longer enforcedabrupt questions upon the exhausted lady, but with a show of gallantattention, stepped forward and drew her arm through his. 

"You can go to your rooms, young men, " he said, "I will attend Mrs. Harrington. "

"Shall I have Lina called, mother?" said Ralph, following his parents, "she did not know of your absence, and I would not terrify her!"

Before Mabel could speak, the general answered for her--

"No, why should Lina be disturbed? Send Mrs. Harrington's maid, " andwith a gentle wave of the hand which forbade all farther conversation, the general led his wife from the room. 

CHAPTER XII. 

LOVE DREAMS. 

Lina had slept sweetly through all this turmoil of the elements and ofhuman passions. Beautifully as a dove she lay in her pretty white bed, with its snowy curtains brooding over her like summer clouds aboveopening roses. A night-lamp of pale alabaster shed its soft moonlightthrough the room, and when bursts of thunder shook the heavens, and thelightning flashed and gleamed around the single Gothic casement of herchamber, it only gave to this pearly light a golden tinge, and made Linasmile more dreamily in her happy slumber. 

She was abroad upon the hills again, and in sleep lived over the brighthours that never return, save in dreams, to any human soul. 

She had left Ralph in the hall, and hoarding up her new found happinessshe stole away to her room, kindled the alabaster lamp that no broaderlight should look upon her blushes, and sat down lost in a trance ofthought. She veiled her eyes even from the pure light around her, andstarted covered with blushes, when the happiness flooding her soul brokein murmurs to her lips. 

She longed to speak over his name, to whisper the words with which hehad blessed her, and ponder over and over the tone of those words. Shewas bewildered and astonished by her own happiness. Now she longed tosteal into Mrs. Harrington's presence, and tell her of the great joythat had fallen upon her life, but the first motion to that effectbrought the blushes to her cheeks, and made her cover them with bothhands, like a child who strives to hide the shame of some innocent joy. 

At last she began to undress, softly and bashfully, as if she had foundsome new value in her own beauty. Her hands lingered fondly among thetresses of her hair, and gathering them up beneath her prettyValenciennes cap, she smiled to see its gossamer shadows fall upon herforehead, giving the whole face a Madonna-like purity. 

With a gentle sigh, she pillowed herself upon the couch, and looked upthrough the cloud of snowy lace that overshadowed it with a wistfulsmile, as if she expected to see stars break through, revealing newglimpses of the Heaven already dawning in her young life. 

Thus cradled in her own happiness, like a lily with its cup full of dew, she laid that beautiful head upon her arm, and slept. The wind had nopower to arouse her, though it shook the old house in all its gables. The thunder rolled through her dreams, like the reverberating strains ofa celestial harp, and when the lightning flamed through her room, itonly kindled the volume of lace over her head into a cloud of goldentissue, under which she slept like a cherub in one of Murillo'spictures. 

Thus Lina spent the night. In the morning she arose at the usual hour, and stole forth to walk. The household were astir in the kitchen, butshe saw no member of the family, and went out unconscious of Mrs. Harrington's accident. When she came back, a shy terror seized upon herat the thought of meeting Ralph again in the presence of his relatives;and, evading the breakfast-room, she stole to her own chamber. Butloneliness at length became oppressive, and, with a breathless effort atcomposure, she sought a little boudoir or private sitting-room, whichopened from Mrs. Harrington's bed-chamber, and where that lady usuallyspent some hours of the morning. Lina unclosed the door softly and wentin, trembling with a world of gentle emotions as she approached Ralph'smother. 

Mrs. Harrington was seated in a large easy-chair. A morning shawl ofpale blue cashmere flowed over an under-dress of French embroidery. Thetint of these garments did not relieve the pallor of her cheek whichwould have been painful, but for the crimson glow reflected upon it fromthe brocaded cushions of the chair. Her foot rested upon an embroideredcushion; and she was languidly sipping chocolate from a cup of embossedparian which she had scarcely strength to hold. A beautiful Italiangrey-hound stood close by the cushion, regarding her with looks of eagerinterrogation that seemed almost human. 

Lina glided softly behind the easy-chair, and remained a momentgathering courage to speak. At last, she bent softly forward:

"Mother!"

Mrs. Harrington looked up kindly, but with a touch of seriousness. Shehad been wounded by Lina's seeming inattention. 

Before another word could be spoken, the door opened noiselessly, andAgnes Barker hesitated upon the threshold, regarding the two with a darkglance. She stood a moment with the latch in her hand, as if about towithdraw again, but seemed to change her mind, and stepped boldly intothe room. 

Mabel was looking at her adopted daughter and the door opened sonoiselessly that neither of them had observed it. Thus Agnes Barkerremained some minutes in the room, listening to their conversation withbreathless attention. 

"Mother, " repeated Lina, and her face flushed like a wild rose, "I havesomething to say; don't look at me, please, it makes me afraid. "

"Afraid, my child!" said Mabel, smiling, "afraid of your mother! Shame, Lina!"

"But I can only remember that you are _his_ mother now, dear Mrs. Harrington!"

"Dear Mrs. Harrington! Why child what has come over you?"

"Something--something so strange and sweet that it makes the very hearttremble in my bosom, dear mamma, and yet----"

"And yet you are afraid!"

"Yes, mamma; you have thought so highly of him--he is so much wiser andnobler than I am--he--"

Mabel drew a quick breath, and turned her eyes almost wildly on the faceof the young girl. 

"Of whom do you speak, Lina?"

Lina was terrified by her look, and faltered, "of--of Mr. Harrington, dear mamma. "

The Parian cup in Mabel's hand shook like a lily in the wind. She sat itslowly down, and suppressing a thrill of pain that ran through her likethe creep of a serpent, remained for a moment bereft of all speech. Itwas the first time that Lina had ever called Ralph, Mr. Harrington, andthe mistake drove the very blood from the heart of her benefactress. 

"Mr. Harrington? and what of him?" inquired the pallid woman, claspingher tremulous hands and striving to hold them still in her lap. "What ofMr. Harrington, Lina?" Her voice was low and hoarse; the very atmospherearound her froze poor Lina into silence. 

"Nothing, indeed nothing at all!" she gasped at length. "I was soterrified, I don't know what I wished to say. It took me so by surprise, and--and--"

Mabel's face lighted. She remembered her adventure the night before, andagain mistook poor Lina. 

"Oh, yes, my own sweet child, I forgot that they kept my peril from youall night. Mr. Harrington did, indeed, save me. "

"Save you, mamma? how? from what?"

"I see they have not told you how near death I was. Oh, Lina! it wasterrible when that wheel plunged me into the black depths. In a singleminute, I thought of everything--of my home, of Ralph, of you, Lina. "

The young girl did not answer. She stood aghast with surprise andterror. 

"I thought, " said Mabel, still excited and nervous, "I thought ofeverything I had ever done in my life--the time, the place, the objectswith which each act had been surrounded, flashed before me like a livingpanorama. "

"Mother, how did this happen?" faltered Lina, trembling from head tofoot. 

Mabel lifted her face, and saw how pale and troubled the young girl was. 

"Sit down, darling, here at my feet, and I will tell you all. Move, Fair-Star, and let your mistress sit down. "

The beautiful Italian grey-hound that had been looking so wistfully athis mistress all the morning, as if he knew all the risk she had run, drew back from his place near the embroidered stool, and allowed Lina toseat herself thereon. Then he stole back to his position, contrastingthe snowy folds of her morning-dress with the pretty scarlet housings, edged with black velvet, which he always wore in chilly weather. 

"Why, how you tremble! how white you are, Lina! and I was but justthinking you neglectful. "

"Neglectful--oh, mother!"

"Well, well, it was all a mistake, child; but what kept you from me solong?"

"I went out to walk. "

"What, after hearing of----"

"Oh! mamma, how can you think so? I have seen no one this morning. "

"Then you knew nothing of this accident?" questioned Mabel, thoughtfully. 

"Indeed, indeed I did not. What could have kept me from your side, if Ihad known? Oh, it was terrible! What must have become of us all had younever returned--of me, of _him_?"

Lina could hardly speak, the whole thing had come upon her so suddenly, but sat wistfully questioning her mother with those tender blue eyes. 

Mabel told her all, even to the false illumination of the cedar tree, and the appearance of Agnes Barker, like an evil shadow in thefirelight. All? no, no! The facts she related faithfully, butfeelings--those haunting spirits that fluttered in her heart evenyet--those Mabel Harrington could not have spoken aloud even to her God. 

When Mabel had told all, Lina's face, that had been growing paler andpaler as the recital progressed, flushed with sudden thanksgiving; hereyes filled with great bright drops, such as we see flash downward whenrain and sunshine strive together; and, creeping up to her mother'sbosom, she began to sob and murmur thanksgivings, breaking them up withsoft tender kisses, that went to Mabel's heart. 

"You are glad to have me back again, my Lina?"

"Glad, mamma, glad? Oh, if I only knew how to thank God, as he should bethanked!"

"I think you love me, Lina, " answered Mabel, and her face was luminouswith that warm, tender light, which made her whole countenancebeautiful, at times, beyond any mere symmetry of features that everexisted. "I think you love me, Lina. "

The young girl did not answer but crept closer to Mrs. Harrington'sbosom. A deep breath came in a tremor from her bosom, as odor shakes thelily-bell it escapes from. 

Thus, for a little time, the two remained in each other's embrace, blissful and silent. All this time Agnes Barker looked on, with adawning sneer upon her lip. 

At length, Mabel lifted Lina's face from her bosom, and kissing thewhite forehead, bade her sit down and partake of the breakfast thatstood upon a little table at her side. She filled a cup with chocolatefrom the small silver kettle, and pressed it upon the young girl. 

"My heart is too full--I cannot taste a drop, " said Lina. 

"Nonsense, child, " answered Mabel, and, with a laugh and a bright look, she hummed--

 "Lips, though blooming, must still be fed, For not even love can live on flowers. "

Why did the rosy blood leap into that young face at the word "Love?" Whydid those eyelids droop so bashfully, and the little hand begin to shakeunder the snowy cup it would gladly have put down? Lina remembered nowthat her secret was still untold, while Mabel, startled by her blushes, thought of the first words that had marked their interview, and grewtimid as one does, who has suffered and dreads a renewal of pain. 

Thus these two persons, loving each other so deeply, shrunk apart, andwere afraid to speak. Poor Lina, with her exquisite intuition, which wasa remarkable gift, drooped bashfully forward, the roses dying on hercheek beneath the frightened glance which Mabel fixed upon them, and hereyelids drooping their dark lashes downward, as the leaves of a japonicacast shadows. 

At last Mabel spoke low and huskily, for, like all brave persons, sheonly recoiled from pain for the moment. Her heart always rose to meetits distresses at once, and steadily. 

"Tell me, Lina, what is it? You have not heard of my escape, and yetsomething disturbed you. "

"Yes, mamma!"

"And, what is it?"

Lina struggled a moment, lifted her eyes full of wistful love, and, dropping her head in Mabel's lap, burst into tears. 

"You love some one?" said Mabel, with an instinctive recoil; "is thatit?"

"Yes, yes; oh, forgive us!" burst out from among Lina's sobs. 

"Forgive us--and who is the other?" There was a tremble in Mabel'svoice--a premonitory shiver of the limbs. Oh, how she dreaded the answerthat would come. 

"You know--you must guess, " pleaded poor Lina. 

"No, who is he?"

"Mrs. --Mrs. Harrington, oh, don't send me away!"

There was no danger that Mabel Harrington would send the young girlaway. Her nerves were yet unstrung, her strength all gone. A look ofanguish, keen but tender, swept over her face. Her hand fell slowly onthe bowed head of poor Lina. She struggled to sit upright and speakwords of encouragement, but the brave true heart sunk back, repulsed inits goodness by the enfeebled body, and she fell back in her chair, white and still, like some proud flower torn up by the roots. 

She was so still, that Lina ventured to look up. The deathly white ofthat face terrified her, and with a cry she sprang to her feet, lookingwildly around for help. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE BROKEN CONFESSION. 

Agnes Barker came coldly into the room, answering Lina's cry. 

"Mrs. Harrington has only fainted, " she said, closing the door which shestill held slightly ajar, as if that moment entering. 

"There is aromatic vinegar on the console yonder--do bring it, while Iopen the window. "

Lina ran for the crystal flask pointed out, and began to sprinkleMabel's face, sobbing and moaning all the time. Agnes opened the sashdoor, that led to a stone balcony full of flowers, and their breath camefloating into the room. 

"Shall I run? shall I call help?" questioned Lina, letting Mrs. Harrington's head fall back upon the crimson cushions of her chair, "I--I am sure Ralph would bring her to. "

"Be quiet, " answered Agnes Barker, dragging the easy-chair towards thewindow, where the fragrant wind blew clear and cold into that deathlyface. 

"If you call any one, let it be Mr. Harrington. "

"The General?"

"No, Mr. James Harrington. "

"I will go, " answered Lina, eagerly. 

But the name of James Harrington, even upon those lips, had reached thesleeping sense of Mabel. She made a faint struggle. Her lips quiveredwith an ineffectual attempt to speak. This brought Lina back. 

"Shall I call help, dear mamma? Shall I call help?"

"No!"

The monosyllable was uttered so faintly, that nothing but a loving ear, like Lina's, would have heard it. The warm-hearted girl stooped andkissed Mabel softly upon the forehead, thanking God silently in herheart. 

Mabel shrunk from that pure kiss, turned her head abruptly on thecushion, and tears stole through her eyelashes, leaving them dark andmoist. 

"Madam, is there anything I can do?"

As she spoke Agnes bent over the helpless woman, and shed her glancesover that pale face, as the upas tree weeps poison. 

The unaccountable dislike that Mabel felt for this girl, gave herstrength, and she sat up, stung by the reflection that her weakness hadso objectionable a witness. 

"You here, Miss Barker!" she said with cold dignity; "I have always heldthis room sacred from all, but my own family. "

"I come by invitation, " answered Agnes, meekly. "Yesterday afternoon youleft a message with my nurse, desiring that I should seek you beforeentering upon my duties again. This command brought me here, not a wishto intrude. "

Mrs. Harrington arose, walked feebly back to the little breakfast-table, and taking up a small teapot of frosted silver, poured some strong teainto a cup which she drank off clear. Then moving back her chair, shesat down, evidently struggling for composure. 

"I remember, " she said very quietly, for Mabel had controlled herself, "I remember leaving this message with a woman who called you hermistress. "

Agnes smiled. "Oh, yes, our Southern nurses always claim us in someform. 'My mammy, ' I think she must have called herself that. Every childhas its slave mammy at the South. "

"Then you _are_ from the South, Miss Barker?"

"Did not General Harrington tell you this, madam?"

"I do not recollect it, if he did, " answered Mabel, searching the girl'sface with her clear eyes; "in truth, Miss Barker, I made so fewinquiries when you entered my family, that your very presence in it isalmost a mystery to me. General Harrington told me you were welleducated, and an orphan. I found that he was correct in the latterpoint, but was somewhat astonished yesterday afternoon to hear the womanwhom I met, claim you as her mistress. "

"You do not understand our Southern ways, Mrs. Harrington, or this wouldnot appear so singular. With us the tie between a slave nurse and herchild, is never broken. "

"Then this woman is a slave?" questioned Mabel. 

"She has been, madam, but though I had nothing else in the world, when Ibecame of age, she was made a free woman. "

"But she is not very black--at least, in the dim light, I saw but fainttraces of it. "

Again Agnes smiled a soft unpleasant smile, that one could put no faithin:

"Perhaps it was that which rendered her so valuable, but black or white, the woman you saw was a born slave. "

"And how does she support herself in that solitary house?"

"She has a garden, and some poultry. The woods around afford plenty ofdry fuel, and my own humble labors supply the rest. "

Mabel became thoughtful and ceased to ask questions. The governess stoodquietly waiting. All her answers had been straightforward and givenunhesitatingly, but they did not bring confidence or conviction withthem. Still Mrs. Harrington was silenced for the time, and remained indeep thought. 

"May I retire, madam?" said the governess at last, drawing slowly towardthe door. 

Mabel started from her reverie. 

"Not yet. I would know more of you, of your parents, and previous life. Where we intrust those most dear to us, there should be a perfectknowledge and profound confidence. "

"Of myself I have nothing to say, " answered Agnes, turning coldly white, for she was a girl who seldom blushed. All her emotions broke out in achilly pallor. "Of my parents all that can be said is told, when Irepeat that they left me with nothing but an honorable name, and thisold woman in the wide world. "

Her voice broke a little here, and this struck Mabel with a shade ofcompassion. 

"But how did you chance to come North?"

"I entered a Louisianian family as governess, directly after my parents'death. They brought me North in the summer, recommended me to GeneralHarrington, and I remained. "

Nothing could be more simple or frankly spoken. Agnes, as I have said, was pale; but for this, she might have seemed unconscious that all thisquestioning was mingled with distrust. 

Mabel had nothing more to say. The feelings with which she had commencedthis conversation, were not in the slightest degree removed, and yetthey seemed utterly without foundation. She waved her hand uneasily, murmuring, "you may go, " and the governess went out softly as she hadentered. 

"Can I stay with you, mamma?" pleaded Lina, creeping timidly up toMabel's chair. 

"I am weary, " answered Mrs. Harrington, closing her eyes, and turningaside her head. "Let me rest awhile!"

"But you will kiss me before I go?" said the gentle girl. 

"Yes, child, " and Mabel kissed that white forehead with her quiveringlips. 

"Is it with your whole heart, mamma?"

Mabel turned away her face, that Lina might not see how it wasconvulsed. So the young girl went out from the boudoir, grieved to theverge of tears. 

After they were gone, Mabel grew strong again and began to pace to andfro in the boudoir, as if striving to outstrip the pain of thinking. Theaccident had left her nerves greatly shattered, and it was difficult toconcentrate the high moral courage that formed the glory of her woman'snature. Thus she walked to and fro in a sort of vague, dreamy passion, her thoughts all in a tumult, her very soul up in arms against the newstruggle forced upon her. Sometimes Mabel wrung her hand with a suddengush of sorrow. Her eyes would fill and her lips quiver, and she lookedaround upon the sumptuous objects in her room, as if seeking outsomething among all the elegance that filled it, which might have powerto comfort her. 

There was no bitter or bad passion in the heart of Mabel Harrington. Shehad only laid down her burden for a moment, and finding its weightdoubled, shrank from taking it up again. But she had a brave, strongheart, that after a little would leap forward, like a checked racehorseto its duty. This might not have been, had she always relied upon herown strength, which so far as human power can go, was to be confided in. But Mabel had a firmer and holier reliance, which was sure in the end tosubdue all these storms of trouble, and prepare her for the battle whichwas to be fought over and over again before she found rest. 

After a time, Mabel Harrington stole gently back to her easy-chair, andkneeling down, buried her face in the cushions. Fair-Star, which hadbeen following her up and down, wondering at her distress, and lookingin that agitated face with his intelligent eyes, came and lay softlydown with his head resting on the folds of her shawl, where it sweptover the floor. He knew with his gentle instinct, that she was quieternow, and with a contented whine lay down to guard her as she prayed. 

While she was upon her knees, a rustling among the flowers in thebalcony made Fair-Star rise suddenly to his fore feet, and cast avigilant glance that way. He saw a hand cautiously outstretched, as ifto put back the trails of a passion flower, and then a dark figure stolealong behind the screen of blossoms, and crouching down, peeredcautiously through the leaves into the room. Fair-Star dropped his head;he had recognized the intruder, and, not having any very definite ideasof etiquette, concluded that the governess had a right to crouch like athief behind that screen of flowers, if her fancy led that way. For alittle time her presence kept the pretty hound restless, but it was notlong before Agnes had so draped the passion-flower that it entirelyconcealed her person, and then Fair-Star betook himself entirely to hismistress. A soul-struggle does not always break forth in words, orexhaust itself in cries. The heart has a still small voice, which Godrecognizes the more readily, because it is like his own. 

Mabel came with no rush of stormy passion before the Lord. The veryforce of her anguish was laid aside as she bowed her proud head, andmeekly besought strength to suffer and be still--to struggle for theright. Now and then her clasped hands were uplifted, once the spy on thebalcony caught a glimpse of her face. It was luminous and lovely, spiteof the anguish to be read there. 

At last she arose, and seating herself, remained for some time inthoughtful silence, her arms folded on her bosom, her eyes full oftroubled light, looking afar off, as if she were following with her eyesthe angels that had been gathering over her as she knelt. 

After awhile, Mabel arose, and walking across the room more composedly, unlocked a little escritoir of ebony, from which she drew forth a bookbound in white vellum, and embossed with gold. Seating herself at theescritoir, she began to search among the trinkets attached to herchatelaine for a small key, which she inserted in a little heart besetwith rubies, which locked the golden clasps of the book. 

All this time Agnes Barker was watching each movement of herbenefactress with the eyes of a serpent. She saw the tiny heart flyopen, and the manuscript pages of the book exposed. She saw Mrs. Harrington turn these pages, now slowly, now hurriedly--reading a linehere, a sentence there, and more than once two or three pages together. Sometimes her fine eyes were full of tears. Sometimes they werereverently uplifted to Heaven, as if seeking strength or comfort there;but more frequently she pursued those pages with a sad thoughtfulness, full of dignity. 

After she had been reading, perhaps an hour, she dipped a pen into thestandish on her escritoir, and began to write slowly, as if weighingevery word as it dropped from her pen. Then she closed the book, lockedit carefully, and securing it in the escritoir again, walked slowlytoward her bed-chamber, which opened from the boudoir, evidently wornout and ready to drop down with exhaustion. A slight disturbance in thepassion-vine betrayed that Agnes Barker had changed her position, andnow commanded a view through the open door of Mabel's chamber. She sawthe poor lady move wearily toward a bed, which stood like a snowdrift inthe midst of the room, and pulling the cloud of white lace, whichenveloped it aside, with her trembling hands, fell wearily down upon thepillows, and dropped away into tranquil slumber, like a child that hadplayed itself to sleep in a daisy field. 

Mabel had asked for strength, and God gave her its first tranquilizingelement--rest. 

Agnes stood motionless till the lace curtains above the sleeper closedagain, leaving nothing visible upon the snowy white beneath but thecalm, sleeping face of Mabel Harrington, gleaming as it were through acloud, and the folds of her azure shawl, that lay around her likefragments of the blue sky. Mrs. Harrington had evidently sunk into aheavy slumber, but Agnes kept her concealment some time after this, forFair-Star was still vigilant, and she shrunk from his glances as if theyhad been human. 

But the dog crept into his mistress's chamber at last, and then AgnesBarker stole from her fragrant hiding-place, and entered the boudoiragain. 

The escritoir was closed, but Agnes saw with joy that the key stillremained in its lock, and that Mrs. Harrington had left her watch upon amarble console close by. Stealing across the room, and holding herwicked breath, as if she felt that it would poison the air of thattranquil room, she crept to the escritoir, turned the key, andstealthily drawing forth the vellum book, dropped on one knee, while shereached forth her hand, drawing the watch softly to her lap. 

There was a quiver in her hands as she unlocked that little goldenheart, forcing it asunder with a jerk, for the dog came back just then, and stood regarding her with his clear, honest eyes. She strove to evadehim, and gleams of angry shame stole across her cheeks as she laid downthe watch, and stole, like the thief that she was, through the sashdoor, along the pretty labyrinth of flowers, and into another door thatopened upon one end of the balcony. 

And Mabel slept on, while this ruthless girl was tearing the secret fromher life. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

RALPH'S LOVE CHASE. 

It was an uncomfortable breakfast-table to which the Harringtons satdown that morning. The lady of the house and Lina, its morning-star, were both absent, and the servant, who stood at the coffee-urn ready todistribute its contents, was a most unsatisfactory substitute. 

Their absence left a gloom on everything. The very morning seemeddarkened by the want of their smiling faces and cheerful garments. Abreakfast-table at which no lady presides, is always a desert--and sowas this; spite of its glittering silver, its transparent china, and thewarm October sunshine, which penetrated the broad eastern window with athousand cheerful flashes, scarcely broken by the gorgeous tree boughs, or the climbing vines that waved and clustered around it. 

Gen. Harrington was out of sorts, as your polished man of the worldsometimes proves when his circle of admirers is a household one. Theabsence of his wife was an annoyance which, under the circumstances, hecould not well resent, but that Lina should have been so indolent, or soforgetful, he considered a just cause of complaint. Thus in that smooth, ironical way, which usually expressed the General's anger, he began aseries of complaints, that in another might have been consideredgrumbling, but in a man of Gen. Harrington's perfect breeding, couldhave been only an expression of elegant displeasure. 

Ralph, radiant with his new-born happiness, and full of generousenthusiasm, strove to dissipate this gloom by extra cheerfulness; butthis only irritated the grand old gentleman, who stirred the cream inhis coffee, and buttered his delicate French rolls in dignified silence, into which his displeasure had at last subsided. 

James Harrington, unlike his irritable father, or the bright animationof his brother, was so rapt in heavy thought, that he seemed unmindfulof all that was going on. He had cast one quick, almost wild glance atthe head of the table as he entered, and after that took his seat likeone in a dream. 

"Let me, " said Ralph, taking the second cup from the servant, andcarrying it to the General, "let me help you, father. "

"My boy, " said the General, "when will you learn to comprehend therefined taste which I fear you will never emulate? You ought to know, sir, that a breakfast without a lady is an unnatural thing in society, calculated to disturb the composure and injure the digestion of anygentleman. As Mrs. Harrington is not able to preside, will you have thegoodness to inform Miss Lina that her seat is empty?"

"I--I don't know where Lina is, father. Indeed, I have been searchingand searching for her all the morning, " answered the youth with a vividblush. 

"Go knock at her door. She may be ill, " answered the General, "and, inthe meantime, inquire after Mrs. Harrington, with my compliments. "

Ralph grew crimson to the temples. A hundred times before, he hadsummoned Lina from her slumbers, but now it seemed like presumption. 

It was strange, but James Harrington had not inquired after either ofthe ladies; but he looked up with an eager flash of the eyes when theGeneral gave his message; and, as Ralph hesitated, he said in a gravevoice--

"What are you waiting for, Ralph? There is something strange in Lina'sabsence. "

"Is there? Do you think so?" exclaimed the excitable boy, and thecrimson came and went in flashes over his face. "Oh, brother James, doyou think so?"

The General lowered his cup to the table, and began tinkling the spoonagainst its side, softly, but in a way which bespoke a world ofimpatience. Ralph understood the signal, and disappeared. 

"Upon my word, I'd rather be shot, " thought Ralph, pausing before thedoor he had knocked at heedlessly a thousand times during his boyishlife; "I wonder what she'll think of it, so coarse and rude to presentmyself in this fashion after her first sweet sleep. Dear, dear Lina. "

He reached forth his hand timidly, and with a pleasant tremble in allthe nerves, drew it back, attempted again, and ended with one of thefaintest possible taps against the black walnut panelling. 

No answer came. The knock was repeated, louder and louder, still noanswer. But at last the door was suddenly opened, and while Ralph stoodin breathless expectation, he saw a mulatto chambermaid before him, beating a pillow with one hand, from which two or three feathers hadbroken loose, and stood quivering in her braided wool. 

"Oh, it's you, is it, Master Ralph? Thought, mebbe, it was Miss Linaa-coming back agin. Everything sixes and sevens, I can tell you, sinceMiss Mabel took sick--now I tell you. "

"Can you tell me where Miss Lina is?"

"Don't know nothin' 'bout her, no how--cum in here a little while ago, and didn't speak a word when I said 'Good mornin', ' as pleasant as couldbe--but jist turned her head away and went off, as if I'd been the dirtunder her feet. "

With these words the exasperated damsel punched her right handferociously into the pillow, as if that had been in fault, and addedhalf a dozen more feathers to those already encamped in her dingytresses. 

Ralph was troubled. What could this mean? Lina was never ill-tempered. Something must have grieved her. 

"Tell me, " he said, addressing the indignant girl, "was anything thematter? Did my--did Miss Lina look ill?"

"Just as blooming as a rose, de fust time I see her, and as white asthis pillar when she went out, after I'd expressed myself regarding theridickelousness of her stuck up ways. "

"But where is she now?"

"Don't know. Shouldn't wonder if she's wid de madam--like as not. "

Ralph went to his mother's boudoir, and after knocking in vain, softlyopened the door. Fair-Star came towards him with his serious eyes andvelvet tread, looking back toward the inner room, where Ralph saw hismother through the lace curtains, asleep and alone. He saw also theshrubs in motion at the window, and fancied that a rustling sound camefrom the balcony. 

"Hist, Lina--sweet Lina, it is I!"

Before he reached the balcony, all was still there, but certainly thesound of a closing door had reached him, and the plants at one end ofthe balcony were vibrating yet. 

"Ah, she is teasing me, " thought the boy, and his heart rose with theplayful thought. "We'll see if Lady Lina escapes in this way. "

He opened a door leading from the balcony, and entered a room that hadonce been occupied by General Harrington's first wife. It was a smallchamber, rich in old-fashioned decorations, and gloomy with disuse. Theshutters were all closed, and curtains of heavy silk darkened thewindows entirely. Still Ralph could see a high-post bedstead and theoutlines of other objects equally ponderous. Beyond this, he saw afemale figure, evidently attempting to hide itself behind the beddrapery. 

Ralph sprang forward with his hands extended. 

"Ah, ha, my lady-bird, with all this fluttering I have found you!"

There was a quick rush behind the drapery, which shook and swayed, tillthe dust fell from it in showers. Again Ralph laughed, "Ah, lapwing, struggle away, I have you safe. "

He seized an armful of the damask drapery as he spoke, and felt a slightform struggling and trembling in his embrace. Instinctively his armsrelaxed their hold, and with something akin to terror, he whispered:--

"Why, Lina, darling, what is this? I thought that we loved each other. You did not tremble so, when I held you in my arms yesterday!"

A smothered cry, as of acute pain, broke from beneath the drapery, andthen, while Ralph stood lost in surprise, the curtains fell rustlingtogether, and the faint sound of a door cautiously closed, admonishedhim that he was alone. 

"Lina, dear Lina, " he called, reluctant to believe that she had left himso abruptly. 

There was no answer, not even a rustle of the damask. 

He was alone. When satisfied of this, the young man found his way to thelight again. But for the terror and evident recoil of the person who hadevaded him, he would have considered the whole adventure a capital joke, in which he had been famously baffled; but there was something tooearnest in that struggle and cry for trifling, and the remembrance lefthim with a heart-ache. 

When Ralph came back to the breakfast-table, he found Lina seated in hismother's place. A faint color came into her cheek as she saw him, butotherwise she was calm and thoughtful. Nay, there was a shade of sorrowupon her countenance, but nothing of the flush and tumult that wouldnaturally have followed the encounter from which she was so fresh. 

Spite of himself, Ralph was shocked. The delicacy of a first passion hadbeen a little outraged by the rude way in which he and Lina had justmet, and struggled together, but her composure wounded him still moredeeply. "So young, so innocent, and so deceptive, " he thought, lookingat her almost angrily, "I would not have believed it. "

Lina was all unconscious. Full of her own sorrowful perplexities, sheexperienced none of the bashful tremors that had troubled her inanticipation. That interview in Mrs. Harrington's room had chilled allthe joy of her young love. Thus she sat, pale and cold, under thereproachful glances of her lover. 

And General Harrington was watching them with his keen, worldly glances. A smile crept over his lips as he read those young hearts, a smile ofcool quiet craft, which no one remarked; but there was destiny in it. 

Altogether the breakfast was a gloomy meal. There was discord in everyheart, and a foreshadowing of trouble which no one dared to speak about. For some time after his father had left the table, Ralph sat moodilythinking of Lina's changed manner. A revulsion came over him as hethought of his singular encounter with her that morning, and with thequick anger of youth, he allowed her to rise from the table and leavethe room without a smile or a word. 

James saw nothing that was passing. Self-centred and thoughtful, he wasscarcely conscious of their presence. 

Lina sought Mrs. Harrington's chamber, but found it perfectly quiet, andthe lady asleep. Then she took a straw hat from the hall, and flinging amantilla about her, went out into the grounds, ready to weep anywhere, if she could but be alone. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE STOLEN JOURNAL. 

Ralph saw Lina pass, from the breakfast-room window, and his heart smotehim. What had she done, poor, dear girl, to warrant his presentfeelings? What evil spirit possessed him to think ill of her, so pure, so truly good, as she was?

Ralph took his hat and followed Lina through the grounds, up to a hollowin the hills, where a great white pine tree sheltered a spring thatsparkled out from its roots, like a gush of diamonds. It was a heavyday, not without flashes of sunshine, but sombre heaps of clouds driftedto and fro across the sky, and the wet earth was literally carpeted withleaves beaten from their branches by the storm. Amid all these deadleaves, and within the gloomy shadow of the pine, Lina sat aloneweeping. She heard Ralph's tread upon the wet foliage, and arose as ifto flee him, for with all her gentleness, Lina was proud, and hispresence made her ashamed of the tears that her little hand had no powerto dash entirely away. 

"Lina, " said Ralph, holding out his hand, rejoiced by her tears, for helonged to think that she was offended by his rudeness in the dusky room, "Lina, forgive me. I was a brute to wound you with my rough ways. "

Lina turned away and sobbed. "It was not that, Ralph. You were onlysilent, not rude. But I have seen your mother this morning. Oh, Ralph, she will never consent to it--we must give each other up. "

"What did she say? Tell me, Lina, tell me!" cried Ralph, full ofemotion. 

"She said nothing, Ralph, but her face--for a moment it was terrible. Then she fainted!"

"Fainted, Lina!--my mother?"

"I thought her dead, she looked so cold and white. Oh, Ralph, if mywords had killed her, what would have become of us?"

"Lina, you astonish me. My mother is not a woman to faint fromdispleasure. It is the effect of her accident. You should not havespoken to her now!"

"I could not help it. Indeed, I was so happy, and it seemed right andnatural to tell her first of all. "

"But, what did you tell her, darling?"

Lina looked up, and regarded him gratefully through her tears. 

"I don't know--something that displeased her--that almost killed her, Iam afraid. "

"Don't cry, don't, Lina--it will all come out right. "

"No, no--I feel it--I know it--we must give each other up. The veryfirst hint almost killed her, and no wonder. I did not think of itbefore--so much kindness made me forget. But what am I? Who am I, todare equal myself with her son?"

"What are you, Lina!" said Ralph, and his fine face glowed with generousfeelings. "What are you! An angel! the dearest, best!"

Lina could not help being pleased with this enthusiasm, but she cut itshort, placing her hand upon his mouth. 

"It is kind of you to say this, but the facts--oh! these facts--arestubborn things. What am I but a poor little girl, who wandered from, noone can say where, into your house, a miserable waif, drifted by chanceupon the charity of your parents! I have no antecedents beyond theirkindness--no name, save that which they gave me--no past, no future. Isit for me to receive affection from their son--to climb ambitiously tothe topmost branches of the roof-tree that sheltered my happiness and mypoverty?"

And this was the girl he had dared to think coarse and forward in notblushing at the liberties he had taken. This fair, noble girl, who, withall her delicacy, could utter such true, proud thoughts. For the moment, Ralph would have dropped on his knees, and asked her pardon in the dust. But, beware, young man--he that doubts a beloved object once, will doubtagain. When you could, even in passing thought, judge that youngcreature wrongfully, it was a break in the chain of confidence thatshould bind true hearts together. Ralph! Ralph! a jewel is lost from thechain of your young life, and once rent asunder many a diamond bead willdrop away from that torn link. 

"Believe me, " said the youth, burning with enthusiastic admiration ofthe young creature before him, "These proud words slander the noblestheart that ever beat in a woman's bosom. My mother loves you foryourself. All the better that God sent you to her unsought, as he doesthe wild flowers. Lina, the pride which reddens your cheek, would beabashed in her presence. "

"It is not pride, Ralph, but shame that such thoughts should never havepresented themselves before. I have dreamed all my life; up to thismorning, I was a child. Now, a single hour has surrounded me withrealities. The whole universe seems changed since yesterday. "

Lina looked drearily around as she spoke. The hill-sides were indeedchanged. The boughs, twelve hours before, so luxuriously gorgeous, werehalf denuded of their foliage. The over-ripe leaves were droppingeverywhere through the damp atmosphere. A gush of wind shook them inheavy clouds to the earth. All the late wild flowers were beaten downand half-uprooted. Nature seemed merely a waste of luxurious beautythrown into gloomy confusion, among which the high winds tore andrioted. 

Lina was chilled by these winds, and drew her shawl closely, with ashivering consciousness of the change. The young man's ardent hope hadno power to reassure her. The subtle intuition of her nature could notbe reasoned with. Sad and disheartened, she followed Ralph slowlyhomeward. 

A few hours after the scene we have described, the governess washalf-way up the hill, on which the house of her nurse stood. She hadwalked all the way from General Harrington's dwelling, and her personbore marks of a rough passage across the hills. Her gaiter boots weresaturated with wet, and soiled with reddish clay. Burdock burs andbrambles clung to the skirt of her merino dress, which exhibited one ortwo serious rents. Her shawl had been torn off by a thicket of wildroses, and she carried it thrown across her arm, too much heated bywalking to require it, though the day was cold. 

On her way up the hill, she paused, and flinging her shawl on theground, sat down. Opening the vellum-bound book, she read a fewsentences in it, with a greedy desire to know the most important portionof its contents, before resigning it into hands that might hereafterdeprive her of all knowledge regarding them. But the winds shook andrustled the pages about, till she was obliged to desist, and at lastmade her way up the hill in a flushed and excited state, leaving hershawl behind. 

The moment she rose to a level with the house, the door opened, and thewoman whom she claimed as a slave nurse, came forth, advancing towardsAgnes with almost ferocious eagerness. She called out:

"Back again so soon! Then there is news. "

"Look here, " answered Agnes, holding up the volume, from which thejewelled heart still dangled, cleft in twain as it was. "In less than anhour after entering the house I had it safe. Isn't that quick work?"

"Give it to me--give it to me. You are a good girl, Agnes, a noble girl, worth a hundred of your lily-faced white folks. Give me the book, honey--do you hear?"

But Agnes, who had again opened the volume, held it back. 

"Not yet, mammy--I have only read a little--don't be too eager--I have aright to know all that is in it!"

"Give me that book. Her secrets belong to me--only to me. Hand over thebook, I say!"

"But I wish to read it, myself--who has a better right?"

The dark eyes of the slave flashed fire, and her hands quivered like thewings of a bird when its prey is in sight. She clutched fiercely at thebook, hissing out her impatience like a serpent. 

"Take it!" exclaimed Agnes fiercely, "but don't expect me to steal foryou again. "

"Hist!" answered the woman, crushing the book under her arm; "here comesone of the Harringtons on horseback. Clear that face and be ready tomeet him, while I go in and hide Mabel Harrington's soul!"

CHAPTER XVI. 

JAMES HARRINGTON'S RIDE. 

James Harrington left the breakfast-table with a restless desire to bealone in the free air. He had not slept during the night, but spent thesilent hours in thought, which filled both his heart and brain withexcitement. The deep tenderness of his nature warred terribly againstits strong moral force, but only as the quick tempests of summer hurledagainst a rock, beat down all the beautiful wild blossoms and moss uponits surface, but leave it immovable as ever. 

As he went forth from his room, Ralph passed him, looking restless andanxious. 

"Brother James! Brother James!" he said, "I wish to speak with you verymuch, but not now. I have no heart to say anything just yet!"

James smiled, very gravely, but with a look of gentle patience, thattold how completely his strong passions were held in control. Few men inhis excited state would have proved so thoughtful of others; for he hadno idea that Ralph had any more important subject to consult him about, than some shooting excursion in the hills, or a horse-back ride withLina. 

"I am going out for an hour or two, " he said; "I have been sufferingwith headache all night. The air seems close to me in-doors. After Icome back, will that be time enough, Ralph?"

"I don't know. Yes, of course it will--there is no hurry, " answered theimpetuous boy, "only I'm so vexed and troubled just now. "

"Well, come up to my room. It does not matter much if I go or not--thismiserable headache will not probably be driven away. "

"No, I can wait. You ought to ride out. How pale you are! Why, your faceis quite changed! Indeed, brother James, I will not speak another wordtill you get back. I wonder what has come over us all this morning. Poormother ill--the General out of sorts--you with a headache, and I, yes, Imay as well own up--I have got something so near heart-sickness here, that--but never mind--I'll shake it off, or know the reason why. But oneword, James, did you ever think my mother an illiberal woman?"

"Illiberal, Ralph? Your mother!"

"Well, I mean this. Is she a woman to reject beauty and worth, andeverything estimable, because--" James Harrington cut the question shortby laying a hand on his brother's shoulder somewhat heavily. 

"Your mother, Ralph, is a woman so much above question in all heractions and motives, that even these half-doubts in her son aresacrilegious. "

The color rushed up to Ralph's forehead. First he had lost confidence inLina--now, in his mother. 

"If you have a doubt of your mother, speak it to her, " said James moregently, as he drew on his riding gloves. "After that, I will talk withyou!"

"I wonder what has come over me--James is offended; I never saw him sograve before, " muttered Ralph, as his brother moved down the hall. 

"Everything goes wrong. Even Fair-Star started, as if she would springat me, when I looked in to see if my mother was up. I will put an end tothis!"

Thus half-passionately, half in thought, he went in search of Lina. 

James Harrington mounted his horse and rode away. He wanted the clearair and freedom of expanse, motion, anything that would distract histhoughts, and bring back the self-control that had almost departed fromhim. He rode at random along the highway leading to the city, down crossroads and by the shore, sometimes at a sharp gallop, sometimes givinghis well-trained horse the head, till both steed and rider flashed likean arrow between the stooping branches. 

In this wild way he rode, unconscious of his course, and without anyabsolute object, save free air and that rapid motion which harmonizes sowell with turbulent feelings. The horse took his own way up hill, alongshore, up hill again, till all at once he came out on a green shelf inthe hills, upon which a single dwelling stood. 

He drew up his horse suddenly, for there a little way from the house andsome distance before him, stood two women in eager conversation. One hadher back toward him, but her left hand was in sight, and in it was anopen book, with its leaves fluttering in the wind. The air and dress ofthis person reminded him so forcibly of Lina's governess, that heremained a moment looking earnestly that way; not that her presence onthe hill would have been particularly remarkable, for on glancing aroundhe recognized by its position, that her nurse's house must be in thatneighborhood. But that very morning he had seen the governess passingtoward Mrs. Harrington's room, and her appearance in both these placesso nearly at the same time, aroused his curiosity, not to say suspicion. 

The object that struck him most forcibly was the female with whom sheseemed to be conversing. The stately person, the picturesque costume, composed entirely of rich warm colors, the eager expression of featuresthat must once have been eminently handsome--above all, the air ofalmost ferocious authority, with which she was speaking, struck him asstrangely out of place in that solitary spot. Beyond this, he felt avague impression, impalpable and formless, of some connection betweenthat woman and former events of his own life. It might have been herdress so foreign to the place, or her humble mode of life. The Madraskerchief, folded in a turban over the black hair falling down each sideof her face in the heaviest waves of rippling jet, and the massiveearrings that gleamed beneath, were in themselves calculated to awakeremembrances of an early youth spent in the South, where thispicturesque costume was common among the slaves; but the woman's facefascinated his gaze more than her general appearance. Some recollectiontoo vague for embodiment, arose on his brain so powerfully, that he wasunconscious of the time thus spent in gazing upon her. 

At last the woman gave a quick glance toward him, and darting forward, snatched at the book in her companion's hand, talking rapidly. 

There was some resistance--an attempt to ward her off--but the book wasat last yielded to her impetuosity. He saw it, gathered up under thewoman's arm, concealed by the folds of an orange-colored scarf, overrunwith a pattern of many gorgeous colors, which she wore, and carried intothe house. 

Then the person whose back had been toward him, turned and looked thatway. It was Agnes Barker. She saw him, evidently without much surprise, and turning, rather leisurely walked that way, as if it had been themost natural thing in the world to meet him there. 

"Oh, Mr. Harrington, " she said, coming close to his horse, picking theburs from her dress as she moved along, "can it be possible that youhave only reached this point now? I left home half an hour after yourode away--on foot, too, and am here before you. "

Harrington did not answer, except with a grave bow, but looked at hersearchingly from head to foot. 

"Yes, " she continued, dragging her veil forward, "I found a rough walkafter the storm, everything is so wet and gloomy. The only dry spot uponthe shore was around the old cedar, where we had that rather interestingscene last night. "

A quiet smile stole over Harrington's lip. "Indeed, " he said, "I musthave ridden at a snail's pace, to let you reach this spot beforeme--especially if the entire walk was beguiled by the book I just sawyou surrender!"

A faint flush stole over Agnes Barker's forehead, and for an instant hereyes fell; then she looked up again with the pretty deprecating glanceof one who had been caught in a meritorious act, which her modestydisclaimed. 

"Oh, you must not think me quite insane, Mr. Harrington, if I did bringout my sketch-book, in hopes of stealing some of the beautiful autumntints from these masses of foliage. My good nurse has just been scoldingme for sitting on the damp ground, forgetting my shawl behind, and allthat. As a punishment, she has carried off my poor book, and threatensto burn it. I have been very imprudent, and very indecorous, you willsay, " she added, glancing at her dress, with a faint laugh, "but, nodoubt my caprice is sufficiently punished by this time; for, if thataccess of smoke means anything, my poor sketch-book is ashes now. "

She spoke a little rapidly, as one does in a fever, but otherwise hermanner was the perfection of modest innocence. Indeed, there was noappearance of confusion, which the derangement of her dress was notquite sufficient to account for. 

"Well, you come in and rest a while?" she said at last, casting a softglance upward from her dress. "My good mammy may not be prepared forsuch company, but she will make you welcome. "

"Yes, " said Harrington, struck by a sudden wish to see more of the womanwho had interested him so much, "I will go in, thank you!"

She turned, as if to precede him, but throwing his bridle over asapling, he walked rapidly forward, and overtook her just before sheentered the house. The door was partly open. Agnes turned upon thethreshold. 

"I know that my poor book is burned, without asking, " she said, in avoice much louder than usual. "You have no idea, Mr. Harrington, howcareful nurse is of my health. Do not be surprised if she is very angrywith me!"

"It is very difficult to surprise me with anything, " said Harrington, drawing nearer to the door, through which he saw glimpses oforange-colored drapery disappearing into an inner room. 

"You must not say that, for I had expected some surprise at the viewfrom this particular point, " she answered, evidently wishing to detainhim on the door step. 

"Yes, it is very fine; but you will find the wind rather keen. Allowme. "

Harrington pushed the door wide open, and Agnes was obliged to pass intothe apartment beyond. She seemed relieved to find it empty, and when herguest looked toward the opposite door, observed; "I am in disgrace, yousee, mammy has shut herself up. "

"And yet I have some desire to see her, if it were only to excuse thefright we gave her last night, by allowing you to enter withoutknocking. "

"Oh, she did not mind it in the least. It was nothing, I assure you. "

"Still I would like to speak with her. "

Agnes grew pale about the lips, a sign of emotion that did not escapeher guest; but it passed off in an instant, and she was slowlyapproaching the inner door, when it opened, and the object of theirconversation presented herself. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THAT WOMAN. 

Harrington was, indeed, surprised when he saw this woman. She wasevidently ten years older than she had appeared at a distance, and, though that seemed an impossibility, darker too. The Madras kerchiefcertainly had been refolded since her return to the house, for it camelow upon the forehead, and the hair visible beneath it was thicklyscattered with white. She stooped somewhat, and her gait was slow, almost shuffling. Not a vestige of the imperious air that had renderedher so picturesque a few minutes before, remained. She appeared beforehim simply as a common-place light mulatto of rather more than middleage, who might have been an upper house servant in her day, but nothingmore. On closer inspection, even the orange-tinted shawl was soiled andheld around her person in a slovenly manner, as rich cast-off garmentsusually are by the servants who inherit them. 

At first, Harrington would not believe that this was the same womanwhose appearance had made so deep an impression on him, for a heavy sortof sluggishness, both of thought and feeling, lay on her features, whilethose that had aroused his attention so keenly, were active and full ofintelligence. The woman did not sit down, but stood by the open door, looking stupidly at Agnes Barker, as if waiting for some command. 

"Well, Miss Agnes, I'se here, what does the master please to want?"

It was rather difficult for James Harrington, self-possessed as he was, to answer that question. The woman had taken him by surprise. Herappearance was so completely that of a common-place servant, that he wassilenced by the very surprise she had given him. But for her dress, hewould not have believed in her identity with the person he had seen inthe open air, and that was worn with a slovenliness altogether unlikethe ease remarkable in the person whom she represented, withoutconveying an impression of absolute identity. 

Harrington had spent his early life in the South, and was at no loss tocomprehend the peculiar class to which this woman belonged. He answeredher quietly, but still with suspicion:

"Nothing, aunty, except that you will oblige me with a glass of water. "

The woman shuffled across the room, and brought him some water, whichshe placed scrupulously on a plate, by way of waiter, before presentingit. Her air--the loose, indolent gait, like that of a leopard movingsleepily around its lair--convinced him that she had been nothing morethan a common household slave, out of place in her cold, and almostpoverty-stricken northern home. He drank the water she gave him, andhanding back the glass, inquired if she did not feel lonely and chilledby the cold climate?

"I'se allus warm and comfortable where dat ere chile is, " said thewoman, looking at Agnes, "any place 'pears like home when she's by, andI 'xpect she feels like dat where old aunty is, if she is poor. "

"She is happy in having one faithful friend, " answered Harrington, moreand more satisfied that the woman was simply what she seemed. 

A strange smile quivered for a moment around Agnes Barker's lip, but asHarrington turned his glance that way, it subsided into a look of gentlehumility. 

"You will inform the ladies that I shall return to-night. It proved achilly day for sketching, and finding myself nearer my own home than themansion-house, I stole a few moments for poor, old, lonesome mammyhere. "

Harrington had arisen as she commenced speaking, and with a grave bendof the head, promised to convey her message. 

The two women watched him as he crossed the rude garden, and mounted hishorse; then drawing hurriedly back into the house, they closed the door. 

"What could have brought him here? Did she send him?" inquired theslave-woman anxiously, and all at once assuming the haughty air naturalto her, while a keen intelligence came to her features. 

"No, " answered Agnes, "she is ill in bed; I am sure she has not seen himthis morning. It must have been accident that brought him in thisdirection. "

The slave-woman looked searchingly in the girl's face. 

"Did he know that you came this way?"

"That is impossible. "

"It should not be impossible. You have been months in his house, Agnes--I did not expect so little progress. "

Agnes was annoyed, and put aside the subject with an impatient gesture. 

"What have you been doing, girl?" persisted the woman, "remember yourown destiny is in this more than mine. "

"But why select this man, so difficult of access, so unattainable?"

"Because he has wealth and power. "

"There is some other reason, mammy. Let me know it!"

"Well, know it, then--I believe that woman loves him--I know that sheloved him once. "

"I know that she loves him _yet_, " said Agnes, with a sinister smile. "For I witnessed a scene last night, when she came to after they haddragged her from the water, which settled that in my mind; but what doyou care for that? How will it help us?"

"What do I care for that--I--I--what does the hungry man care for food, or the thirsty one for water? What do I care, child? Listen: I hate thatwoman--from my soul I hate her!"

"Then it was hatred of her, not love for me, that brought us here!"

"It was both, Agnes--do not doubt it. When I avenge the wrongs of mylife on her, you must be a gainer. "

"I do not understand you. "

"It is not necessary; obey me, that is enough. "

"But how has Mrs. Harrington wronged you?"

"How has she wronged me, Agnes! Be quiet, I am not to be questioned inthis way. "

"But, I am no longer a child to be used blindly. You have objects whichI do not comprehend--motives which are so rigidly concealed that I, whoam to help work them out, grope constantly in the dark. I am told tolisten, watch, work, even steal, and am left ignorant of the end to beaccomplished. "

"Have I not told you that it is your marriage with Mr. James Harrington, the real owner of all the property which his father is supposed topossess? Am I not working to make you the richest lady of the North, thewife of a man whom all other men hold in reverence; and in this am I notsecuring the dearest and sweetest vengeance that mortal ever tasted?"

"But I do not think Mr. Harrington cares for me, or ever will. "

"What have you been doing, then?" cried the woman fiercely. "You havebeauty, or, if not that, something far more powerful--that subtlemagnetism which all men feel a thousand times more forcibly, deepknowledge; for have I not taught you what human hearts are worth, andhow to dissect them, leaf by leaf? You have coolness, self-control, andpassion when it is wanted. Have I not trained you from the cradle forthis one object, and dare you talk of its failure?"

"Mammy, let us understand each other. Cannot we accomplish the samething, and both be gratified? I do not love Mr. James Harrington, butthere is one of the name that I do love, heart and soul. "

"And who is that?" demanded the woman sharply, and her black eyes caughtfire from the anger within her. 

"It is the other, Ralph Harrington. "

How hard and defiant was the voice in which Agnes Barker said this--ayoung girl expressing her first love without a blush, and with that airof cold-blooded defiance. It was terrible!

"Ralph Harrington, he is _her_ son, and a beggar!" cried the womanbitterly. 

"I do not understand what force may lie in the first objection, and I donot believe in the second. Ralph cannot be a beggar, while his brotherholds so much wealth; at any rate, I love him. "

"Love, girl! What have you to do with this sweet poison? The thing Loveis not your destiny. "

"It is, though, and shall control it, " replied Agnes, with the samehalf-insolent tone; for it seemed to be a relief for this young girl toact out spontaneously the evil of her nature, and she appeared to enjoythe kindling anger of her servant--if that slave woman was herservant--with vicious relish. 

The woman walked close to the insolent girl, with her hand clenched, andher lips pressed firmly together. 

"Agnes, Agnes--you cannot know how much rests on you--how great arevenge your obstinacy may baffle. "

"I know that I love Ralph Harrington, and if it will comfort you to hearit, he does not love me, " answered the girl with a burning glow ineither cheek. 

"Oh, you have come back again--it is his blood on fire in your cheeks. Ihave no fear of you, Agnes. That blood grows strong with age like oldwine, and soon learns to give hatred for unanswered love. I can trustthe blood. "

"But he shall love me, or, at any rate, no one else shall have what hewithholds from me. "

"Be still, Agnes, do not make me angry again. You and I must worktogether. Tell me, did you succeed in quieting General Harrington'sinquiries regarding the letters of recommendation?"

"Did I succeed?" answered Agnes, with a smile that crept over her younglips like a viper. "The old General is more pliable than the son. Oh, yes, when he began questioning me of the whereabouts of our kind friendswho think so much of us, you know, I put forth all the accomplishmentsyou have taught me, and wiled him from the subject in no time. You havejust questioned my beauty, mammy. I doubt if he did then, for his eyeswere not off my face a moment. What fine eyes the old gentleman has, though! I think it would be easier to obey you in that quarter than theother. "

As she uttered the last words with a reckless lift of the head, theslave-woman made a spring at her, and grasping the scornfully upliftedshoulder, bent her face--which was that of a fiend--close to the younggirl's ear: "Beware, girl, beware!" she whispered, "you are treadingamong adders. "

"I think you are crazy, " was the contemptuous reply, as Agnes releasedher shoulder from the gripe of that fierce hand. "My shoulder will beblack and blue after this, and all for a joke about a conceited oldgentleman whom we are both taking in. Did you not tell me to delude himoff the subject if he mentioned those letters of recommendation again?"

The woman did not answer, but stood bending forward as if ashamed of herviolence, but yet with a gleam of rage lingering in her black eyes. 

"Have you done?" said Agnes, arranging her velvet sacque, which had beentorn from its buttons in front, by the rude handling she had received. 

"You must not speak in that way again, " answered the old woman in a lowvoice, "I did not mean to hurt you, child, but General Harrington is nota man for girls like you to joke about. "

"This is consistent, upon my word, " answered the girl with a shortscornful laugh. "You teach me to delude the old gentleman into ahalf-flirtation. He meets me in the grounds--begins to ask about thepersons from whom we obtained those precious recommendations, and when Iattempt to escape the subject, persists in walking by me till I led hima merry dance up the steepest hill that could be found, and left himthere out of breath, and in the midst of a protestation that I was theloveliest person he had ever seen. Loveliest--no, that was not it--themost bewitching creature! these were the last words I remember, for thatmoment Benson's boat hove in sight, and there sat madam looking fairlyat us. If they had been a moment later, I'm quite sure the old fellowwould have been down upon his knees in the dead leaves. "

The slave-woman listened to this flippant speech in cold silence. Shewas endowed with a powerful will, matched with pride that was almostsatanic. She saw the malicious pleasure with which Agnes said all this, and would not gratify it by a single glance. With all her wicked craft, the young girl was no match for the woman. 

"You have acted unwisely, " she said with wonderful self-command; "nevertrifle with side issues when they can possibly interfere with the mainobject. I wished to evade General Harrington's close scrutiny into ourantecedents; to soothe the lion, not goad him. Be careful of this asecond time!"

How calmly she spoke! You would not have believed her the same woman whohad sprung upon the girl so like a tiger only a few moments before. EvenAgnes looked upon her with amazement. 

"Woman, " she said, "tell me what you are at--trust me, and I will helpyou heart and soul. "

"What! even to the giving up of this new-born love?"

"Even to that, if I can be convinced of its necessity. "

"I will trust you. "

"Wholly--entirely?"

"Entirely!"

The girl threw her arms around that singular woman, their lips met, andthe subtle force of one heart kindled and burned in the bosom of theother. 

"Tell me everything, mamma!"

"I will. But first, let us read Mabel Harrington's journal, it willprepare you for the rest. "

They opened the stolen book, and sat down together so close that theirarms were interlaced, and their cheeks touched as they read. 

It was a terrible picture, that meagre, dimly-lighted room, thetree-boughs waving against the window, their leaves vocal with the lastsob of the storm, and those two women with their keen evil faces, theirlips parted with eagerness, and their eyes gleaming darkly, as theydrank up the secrets of poor Mabel Harrington's life. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS. 

General Harrington spent the entire day at home. After the ratheruncomfortable breakfast we have already described, he went to hislibrary, discontented and moody. All day he was disposed to be restlessand dissatisfied with his books, as he had been with the appointments ofhis morning meal. Indignant with his whole household, for not being onthe alert to amuse him, he declined going down to dinner; but orderingsome choicely cooked birds and a bottle of champagne in his own room, amused his rather fastidious appetite with these delicacies, while heluxuriated in his dressing-gown, and read snatches from a new book ofpoems that had interested him for the moment. 

This rather pleasant occupation wiled away an hour, when he wasinterrupted by a knock at the door. Lifting his eyes from the book, theGeneral said, "Come in, " rather hastily, for the knock had broken intoone of the finest passages of the poem, and General Harrington detestedinterruptions of any kind, either in a mental or sensual enjoyment. 

"Come in!"

The General was a good deal astonished when his son Ralph opened thedoor, and stood before him with an air of awkward constraint, thatwould certainly have secured him a reprimand had he not been the firstto speak. 

"Father!"

General Harrington gave an impatient wave of the hand. 

"Young gentleman, " he said, "how often am I to remind you that the useof the paternal title after childhood is offensive. Can't you call meGeneral Harrington, sir, as other people do? A handsome young fellow sixfeet high should learn to forget the nursery. Sit down, sir, sit downand converse like a gentleman, if you have anything to say. "

The blood rose warmly in Ralph's face, not that he was angry orsurprised, but it seemed impossible to open his warm heart to the manbefore him. 

"Well then, General, " he said, with a troubled smile, "I--I've beengetting into--into----"

"Not into debt, I trust, " said the General, folding the skirts of theTurkish dressing-gown over his knees, and smoothing the silken fabricwith his hand, but speaking with a degree of genuine bitterness, "because, if that's it, you had better go to James at once--he is themillionaire. I am not much better than his pensioner myself!"

"It is not that, " answered Ralph, with an effort which sent the bloodcrimsoning to his temples, "though money may have something to do withit in time. The truth is, General, I have been in love with Lina all mylife, and never found it out till yesterday. "

General Harrington gave the youth a look from under his bent brows, thatmade the young man shrink back in his chair, but in a moment theunpleasant expression went off, and a quiet smile stole over the oldman's lip. 

"Oh, you will get over that, Ralph. It isn't worth being angry about. Ofcourse, you will get over it. I think this is a first love, hey!"

"The first and last with me, fath--General. "

"Yes, yes, of course--I think I remember feeling a little in the sameway at your age. It won't be serious--these things never are!"

"But I am very serious. I have told her all about it. My honor ispledged. "

The young man--who, by the way, really seemed a mere boy yet to hisfather--was going on with some vehemence, but he was coldly cut short bythe General, who sat regarding his enthusiasm with a most provokingsmile. 

"Of course, I supposed so--eternal constancy and devotion on both sides!Very well, what can I do about it?"

"Oh, father, I beg your pardon--but you can do everything. Your free, hearty consent is all I ask--and if you would be so kind as to exert alittle influence with mother. "

"Then you have told this to her, before coming to me, " said the General, and his brow darkened. 

"No, sir, I have spoken to no one but Lina. It was my duty to come toyou first, and I am here. "

"That is better; but how do you know that Mrs. Harrington willdisapprove of your caprice for her protégé, if no one has spoken to heron the subject?"

"I believe, sir, that Lina said something about it; but before she couldbe very definite, my mother fainted. This frightened my--I mean, itterrified poor Lina, and she had no courage to go on; so we were inhopes, sir, that you would be so good. "

The General sat gazing upon the handsome face of his son, with the airof a person revolving some thought rapidly in his mind. At last, hiscold eyes brightened, and a smile crept over his mouth. 

"It was very right to come here first, Ralph, and remember your dutygoes no farther. I will only consent to your marrying this girl at all, on condition that you, neither of you, ever speak on the subject to anyone. You are both very young, and a year or two hence will be timeenough for a decision; but I will have no gossip about the matter. Aboveall, my son James must be left entirely uncommitted. I only consent tolet this fancy have a proper trial. If it proves serious, of course thewhole family will be informed; but till then I must have your promisenot to speak of it to any one not already informed. "

The young man drew close to his father, and taking his hand, kissed it. 

"I promise, father!"

The General was pleased with the homage and grace of this action, andrising placed a hand on Ralph's shoulder, more cordially than he haddone for years. 

"Are you sure she cares for you, Ralph? I have seen nothing to suggestthe idea. "

"I think, indeed I am quite certain that she does not like any one elsenear so much, " answered the young man, reluctant to compromise Lina'sdelicacy by a broader confession. 

"Young men are always confident, " said the General with a bland smile. "I think that faith in woman was the first delusion that I gave up. Still it is pleasant while it lasts. Heaven forbid that I should brushthe bloom from your grapes, my boy. So you really think that mamma'slittle protégé knows her own mind, and that my son knows his?"

A pang came to the ardent heart of the youth as he listened. Anothergolden thread snapped under the cold-blooded worldliness of that craftyold man. 

General Harrington looked in his face, and analyzed the play of thosehandsome features, exactly as he had tasted the game-birds and champagnea half hour before. The same relish was in both enjoyments, only one wasthe epicureanism of a mind that found pleasure in dissecting a youngheart, and the other, quite as important to him, was a delicioussensuality. 

And Ralph stood under this scrutiny with a cloud on his fine brow and afaint quiver of the lip. It was agony to think of Lina without perfectconfidence in her affection for himself. Yet he was so young, and hisfather had seen so much. If he found no evidence of Lina's attachment tohimself, it might be that all was a delusion. 

The old man read these thoughts, and took upon himself a gentle air ofcomposure. 

"These things often happen when young people are thrown together in thesame house, Ralph. It is a pleasant dream. Both parties wake up, andthere is no harm done. Don't take the thing to heart, it isn't worthwhile. "

"Then you think, sir, she really does not care for me?"

With all his worldliness, the old man could hardly withstand the appealof those magnificent eyes, for Ralph possessed the beautiful charm ofdeep feeling, without a particle of self-conceit. He began to wonder howLina ever could have fancied him, and to grieve over the delusion. 

"It is strange, " said the General, as if musing with himself, "it isstrange, but these very young creatures seldom do give their firstpreferences to persons of corresponding age. Girls love to look up tomen with reverence. It is really wonderful. "

The young man started, fire flashed into his eyes, and for an instant hewas breathless. 

"You--you cannot mean that, Lina--_my_ Lina loves some one else!" hesaid, speaking rapidly--"Who has she known but me, and--and--?" Hestopped short, looking wistfully at his father. 

"You and my son James? No one, certainly, no one. "

"Brother James! oh, father. "

"But you are satisfied that she loves you, and that is enough, " answeredthe General, waving his hand as if tired of the discussion. "It isdecided that this whole subject rests between ourselves. Come to me ayear, nay, six months from now, and if you desire it, then, I will notbe hard with you. "

The General seated himself as he spoke, and resumed his book with agentle wave of the hand. Ralph bent his head partly in submission, partly to conceal the flush that suppressed tears left about his eyesand went out, leaving the first pure jewel of his heart in that oldman's hands. 

The twilight had crept on during this conversation. General Harringtonrang the bell for a servant to remove the silver tray on which hisdinner had been served, and consumed considerable time in directing howthe lamp should be placed, in order to protect his eyes as he read. Whenonce more alone, he cast a thought back to his son. 

"It will do him good. I wonder now if I, General Harrington, ever was soconfiding, so rash, so generous, --for the boy is generous. My son, onwhom so much depends, married to that girl! I was almost tempted into ascene with the first mention of it. "

With these thoughts floating through his brain, the General leaned backin his chair more discomposed than usual by his late interview, forthough his reflections were all worldly and commonplace, they had adeeper and unexpressed importance hardly recognized by himself. 

Again there was a low knock at the door, and again the General bade theintruder come in, rather hastily, for he was in no humor for company!"Miss Barker; Miss Agnes Barker, " he said, as that girl presentedherself and softly closed the door, "you are too kind--I only regretthat this pleasant surprise detects me en déshabillé. "

"General Harrington is always General Harrington in any dress--besides, I have a preference for this sort of orientalism. "

"You are kind to forgive me, and kinder to allow me the happiness ofyour presence. Sit down!"

"No, " answered the governess, with a look from her black almond-shapedeyes that brought a glow into the old man's cheek deeper than the winehad left. "I found the book open upon Mrs. Harrington's desk. She musthave forgotten it there after her fainting fit this morning. I am sureshe has no secrets from her husband, and so bring it to you, as it mayexcite her to be disturbed, and I have no key to her desk. "

The General reached forth his hand, struck by the vellum binding andjewelled clasp, for he was a connoisseur in such matters, and the effectpleased him. 

"What is it?" he said, opening the book and leaning towards the light, "some illuminated missal, I fancy, or rare manuscript. Oh--ha, my lady'sjournal--let us see. "

He had opened the book at random, and with a gratified smile, butdirectly the expression of his face hardened, and his lips parted withsurprise. He turned the open volume toward Agnes, who stood leaning uponthe table opposite; placed his finger sternly upon a passage of thewriting, and demanded whether she had read it. 

"You insult me with the question, " said the lady, drawing herself up, "Idid not expect this, " and before he could speak Agnes glided from theroom. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE LOVER'S CONFESSION. 

Ralph dared not confide in his brother James, as he had proposed tohimself, and the elder Harrington was so occupied with his ownconflicting thoughts that the momentary annoyance expressed by the youthhad passed from his mind. He did not even remark that Ralph avoided anyconversation with him, or that Lina was paler than usual, and from timeto time looked anxiously in his face, as if to draw some reassurancefrom its expression that might bring her back into the bosom of thefamily from which she felt all at once inexplicably repulsed. TheGeneral was absent, or remained in his own room, sending down word thathe was occupied, and that the business of the day must go on withouthim. 

Mabel was not yet well enough to leave her own immediate apartments. Thus it happened that a silent and uncomfortable meal followed everyreunion of the family for some days after the storm, which seemed stillbrooding blackly over the household. James Harrington went forth againand again from the breakfast room, without regarding the anxious looksof his brother, or the tearful eyes of poor Lina, and both these youngpersons held him in that awe which is always felt when reserve andsecrets creep into bosoms warmed with kindred life. 

Poor Lina. She felt, in that splendid mansion, like Eve wanderingthrough the bowers of paradise after the sentence of banishment had beenpassed upon her. Lonely and sad of heart, she sat hour after hour in hersolitary chamber waiting for some one to summon her, or ask a cause forthe tears that came trembling with every thought to her heavy eyes. Sheavoided Ralph, for without his parents' consent, her own sensitivedelicacy rendered the old intercourse impossible, and any other woundedher to the soul with its restraints. Thus it happened that pretty, pure-hearted Lina sat in her room and wept. 

But Ralph was more impetuous. After exploring every part of the oldmansion, dragging out guns, fishing tackle, and other provocatives ofamusement, only to put them back again in disgust--after rowingfuriously up and down the river, unconscious and uncaring what course hetook, the youth grew impatient under his restraints, and promptlyresolved to break through them at any rate, as far as Lina wasconcerned. She should creep away in gentle silence and spend her time inweeping no longer. He remembered that General Harrington had notforbidden them to meet as of old, and that his prohibition of speechcould not extend to the mother, who had already been to some extentconfided in. In short, Ralph was young, ardent, and restive of trouble, so, after a brief battle with himself, he resolved that the General hadmeant nothing by his prohibition, but to prevent premature gossip in thehousehold. 

When quite convinced of this, the youth cast all other thoughts aside, and sought out Lina in her solitude. She heard his footsteps with a leapof the heart, and a brightening of the eye which no sense of duty couldcheck. How hopefully it sounded, how bold and firm it was. What hadhappened? Would he stop at her door?

Yes, yes, Lina! his heart bounds and throbs even more warmly than yourown! His face is radiant with hope, which, without other source, springsout of his own buoyant nature. He has cast doubt behind him, and says, in answer to the arguments that struggle to get possession of hisreason, "Let to-morrow take care of itself. I will see Lina to-day!"

He knocks at her door, and a smile that she cannot help, breaks throughthe trouble in Lina's eyes, as she arises with a thrill of mingled joyand dread, to let him in. She opens the door, and stands before him, blushing, and all in a tremor of delight, which will not be suppressed, but which her little heart says is very ungrateful and wicked, knowing, as she did, how wrong it was for her, a poor little outcast, to think ofRalph Harrington, when his mother is opposed to it utterly, and hisfather almost treats the whole subject with ridicule. Ralph has told herfaithfully every word that passed between him and his father, and herdelicate intuition detects the uncertainty and hollowness of it all. With these honorable feelings warring against the newly-awakened lovein her heart, it is no wonder that gentle Lina trembled, and grew redand white again in the presence of her lover. 

"Lina, dear, dear, Lina. "

She reached out her hand. How could she resist beneath that bright, hopeful look? Her lips, that had begun to quiver, dimpled into a smile, as the soft fingers yielded themselves to his clasp. She attempted toreprove his coming, but that rebellious little mouth would only say"Ralph! oh, Ralph!" with a gush of tender joy in the words, which madethe heart leap in his bosom, like a prisoned bird called suddenly by itsmate. 

"Lina, dear, dear, Lina! you look sad. Your poor eyes are heavy. You canbear this no longer. I am a man, and strong, but it almost kills me tobe away from you. The General is away. I believe my mother is in herroom. Come with me. Anything is better than seeing you suffer. "

Lina drew back, and tried to wrest her hand from his grasp, but he onlyheld it more firmly. 

"No, no. I do not suffer any, hardly. Go away, Ralph, dear Ralph, goaway, or it will kill me. "

"I do not wish to see you unauthorized. Come to my mother, Lina!"

"No, no, I dare not. It kills me to remember that look. "

"But I can endure these restraints no longer, Lina. My father, at least, does not withhold a conditional consent--surely our mother, the dearestand best woman that ever drew breath, will not be less generous. At anyrate, we will know the worst. Come, Lina. "

The young man, with his untamed will, drew the timid Lina firmly, buttenderly, from her vantage ground in the room, and hurried her awaytoward his mother's room. 

Mabel was sitting up, calm and pale, like one who ceases to resist, though in the midst of a storm. She arose to receive her son with agentle smile, and glanced kindly at Lina. 

Ralph, full of impetuous warmth, threw his arm around the young girl, and brought her forward with gentle force. 

"Mother, you have always loved her; now let it be more than ever, for mysake. She is all the world to me. "

They were looking upward to Mabel's face--the one boldly and with honestconfidence, the other shy and wistful--dreading the first glance, as ifit had been a dagger. But an exclamation of astonishment broke from themboth, at the sudden illumination of those eyes--at the smile that partedher lips, like sunshine forcing a red rose bud into sudden flower. Yes, the countenance of Mabel Harrington brightened into beauty then, and itwas one which the heart leaped toward with gushes of tenderness. 

The eyes of Ralph Harrington danced and sparkled in their joy, andLina's brightened up, till the very tears shone like diamonds in them. 

"Oh, mother, my blessed, blessed mother, how happy you have made us--howgood you are!"

And yet she had not spoken a word. That eloquent face had done it all. She sunk slowly to her seat, sighing, but, oh! how pleasantly. Ralphseized her hand, which he covered with grateful kisses. Lina fell uponher knees, and burying her face in Mabel's lap, mingled soft murmurswith a world of broken sighs, as she had done many a time when a littlepetted child. Her gentle heart was brimful of thanksgiving, which shecould utter in no other way. 

"My children you have made me so happy!" exclaimed Mabel, folding themboth in her arms. "I never expected to be happy again, and lo! God heapsall this blessedness at my feet. "

"I thought you were offended with me, " said Lina, lifting her brightface to meet the pleasant glance bent upon her. 

"Offended, darling! I misunderstood you. Why, lady-bird, did you call myson Ralph, Mr. Harrington?"

Lina blushed scarlet, and Ralph laughed, little dreaming what cruelstruggles had followed this trifling change of names. Indeed, Ralph wasrather proud of the new dignity with which Lina's bashful love hadinvested him; and Lina was greatly puzzled to know what harm there wasin calling so fine a young fellow Mr. Harrington, after all. 

While they were hovering around Mabel's chair, overwhelming her with theabundance of their own happiness, there was a commotion among thepassion-flowers at the window, and the vine was once so violentlyagitated, that some of its blossoms dropped away and fell through thesash-door; but no one of that happy trio heeded it, and Agnes Barkerescaped once more from the balcony unseen. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE BOUQUET OF ROSES. 

And now Mabel was left alone, with the cup of bitter trial removed fromher lips, and a flood of thankfulness gushing up from her heart. How sheloved those two young people! How her eyes filled as she gazed afterthem!

She sat down in her easy-chair, serene and happy. The very absence ofthe harassing doubts that had tormented her, was in itself almost abliss. 

The day was quiet and dreamy--one of those late Indian Summer mornings, when existence itself seems heavenly. The sash was open, and the odor ofheliotrope and roses came through, softening the sweet thoughts thatfloated in her brain, and becoming, as it were, a part of them. Shebecame very languid and dreamy after this, for the strain upon herenergies being removed, the reaction rendered her helpless as a littlechild. God had put aside the evil day. She was not to be wounded bythose whom she had cherished closest to her heart. Ralph and Lina! Howshe loved to murmur over those names in her solitude! How pleasant itwas to think of them, united, and still keeping the family bondunbroken. 

Ralph had forgotten to enforce secrecy on his mother, and her firstthought was to talk this new promise of family union over with JamesHarrington. Then, all at once, she remembered that since her accident, no message had been given her from him, and though he was alwaysadmitted to her boudoir with as little ceremony as her own son, thatprivilege had not been once claimed since the storm. 

This thought fell like a shadow amid her serene contentment. She beganto wonder at this strange desertion, and have a vague consciousness thatsomething was wrong between them. Still, how could this be? Had notHarrington saved her life at the peril of his own? Was not his face, full of agonized hope, bending over her when she awoke from the midnightof the deep?

Mabel gave a sudden start, and her eyes took an expression of alarm. What if he were ill? What if the terrible exertions of that night hadoverpowered him, and all this was kept from her knowledge? Starting upunder the excitement of this apprehension, she was approaching the door, when it opened, and Agnes Barker came in. The young woman looked morethan usually excited that morning. The fire, which always laysmouldering in her evasive eyes, was kindled up, and a flush lay redlyon her cheek, an evil flush, such as we may imagine the poison in alaurel plant to spread over its blossoms. In her hand she held a fewleaves of verbena and rose geranium, encircling a white rose-bud, and acrimson rose, which had evidently been arranged with considerable care. 

Mabel moved back to her seat, overcome by that strange thrill ofrepulsion which always troubled her at the approach of this girl. 

"Who sent them?" she inquired, with a gleam of pleasure, as she saw theexquisite bouquet, "who sent them?" and with a look half wistful, halfpleased, she reached out her hand. Agnes withheld the bouquet, smiling:

"I fear to give offence were I to part with it, even to you, madam. Itwas intended for me, I believe. "

Mabel drew back her hand, stung by the smile, and recoiling proudly fromany further question. A faint flush of self-reproach stole up to herforehead, for her heart had leaped back twenty years, when rose budsburied in fragrant leaves had been the mystic language by which herheart read the pulses of another. 

Agnes stood before her gazing down into the tiny bouquet with apparentunconsciousness of the feelings she had aroused, and with a smilequivering about her lips, she began blowing dreamily into the half openbud, till it fluttered apart, and took an unhealthy bloom from her hotbreath. 

"Don't--it will sicken and droop, " said Mabel, who could never see aflower rudely touched, without a sensation that it must feel a pang. 

"But I shall have it in full bloom while it lasts, " answered thegoverness, "and when that is gone, more will come: I like things thatflash into a glow and out again. "

Mabel was surprised; the girl, hitherto so retiring and quiet, had allat once taken an air of authority. There was something in the speechthat shocked the heart more than the ear, and the sensitive woman felt athrill of pain as she saw Agnes tear off a leaf from the crimsonrose--place it between her lips--and fasten the cluster in her bosom. The quiet self-possession with which she did all this was so unlike herusual manner, that Mabel sat regarding her in silent astonishment. 

When Agnes had arranged the flowers to her satisfaction, she looked up. 

"I beg pardon, " she said, "for intruding, but Mr. Harrington told methat Lina was in here, and I hurried to join her, fearing that my walkafter breakfast had encroached on the hour for lessons. "

"Miss Lina has just left me, " answered Mrs. Harrington, coldly, but witha quiver of the voice, "you will find her with my son somewhere aboutthe grounds, I fancy. "

Agnes looked out of the window, casting sharp glances over that portionof the grounds which it commanded. 

"Oh, " she said, "yes, it is a heavenly day--what a pity that you cannotgo out, " and, with a little haste in her manner, Agnes left the room. 

Mabel looked out of the window, in time to catch a glimpse of JamesHarrington walking slowly and thoughtfully towards the shore. DirectlyAgnes Barker joined him, and they seemed to enter into conversation, butmoved on, and were soon out of sight. 

He was not ill then, but avoided her purposely, and took long strollswith that strange girl. More and worse--no other hand could havearranged those rose buds. Years and years ago, she had worn such budsand leaves, tint for tint, upon her own bosom. Alas, that the memorygave her so much anguish. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

BEN BENSON GIVES AN OPINION. 

Mabel went back into the room sick and faint; her heart was enveloped inshadows again. 

Another knock at the door, a rambling timid knock, as if every knuckleof a great hand lent its own sound to the wood. Mabel was impatient andcried out, "come in, come in. "

The door half opened and closed, opened again, and a huge foot wasplanted on a cluster of roses in the carpet. Another foot appeared, andour old friend Ben presented himself with a small basket on his arm, anda huge bouquet of wild flowers in hand. 

"I beg pardon, marm, " said the honest fellow, taking off his tarpaulinand setting it down by the door, "I begs any amount of pardons for thishere intrusion, but I thought that you'd like to see these ere shinersafore the cook spiled their beauty on the gridiron; besides I found someblue asters and a tuft of golden-rod in a holler of the woods that thefrost hasn't found out yet, and tied 'em up ship shape, thinking as youmight like the smell on 'em, now that they've got so scarce. "

The quick tears sprung into Mabel Harrington's eyes. She held out herhand with that beaming expression of face which rendered her at timesmore than beautiful. 

"Ben, my good old friend, you helped to save my life; how can I everthank you enough!"

Ben took the white hand in his huge grasp tenderly as if it had been anewly-fledged dove. "Don't, don't, now, I can't stand it, that ere lookknocks the pins from under me, circumvents me into a lubberly boy again. What was Ben Benson--the old scoundrel about, that he didn't do the hullthing hisself? Don't hurt the poor feller's feelins by thanking him forwhat he didn't do--he's ashamed of hisself, and hain't done nothing butrip and tear at hisself for a sneak and coward ever since. "

"Oh, Benson, don't abuse yourself in this manner--I cannot speak all mythankfulness--I can never do enough for you. Sometimes, Ben, sometimes, I think you are the best, almost the only true friend that I have onearth--that is among the old friends, Ben. "

Her eyes were full of tears. She pressed Ben's hard hand with her whitefingers. 

"He'd die for you--that ere old weather-beaten chap--he'd die for youany minute, and never ask the reason; but don't talk to him in that ereway--it'll break his heart if you do. His eyes have sprung aleakalready, and no pump rigged, nothing to help hisself with, but the cuffof his coat!"

"Well, well, I will not vex you with my thanks; but remember, goodfriend, I must always feel them. Now tell me what you have got in thebasket. Something nice or beautiful, I daresay, for you bring the breathof the hills in your very clothes. "

Ben sat down his basket, with a glow of satisfaction, and proceeded todisplay its contents: first, he removed a layer of crimson maple leaves, presenting a surface of bright golden tints underneath, which weredaintily lifted from a bed of the softest and greenest moss in which apair of superb speckled trout lay softly embedded. Ben looked up with abroad smile, as Mabel touched their spotted sides, gleaming up throughthe delicate green, as if the gorgeous coloring of the leaves which layheaped upon the marble console had struck through, leaving prismaticstains behind. 

"I thought, " said Ben, peering affectionately down into the basket, "that a pair of these ere beauties might tempt you into eatingsomething. I've been a watching 'em a good while in the holler of therocks, just above where Miss Barker's mammy lives. The brook that comesdown by the side of her house is as pure as ice, and almost as cold, andthat's the kind of water for fellers like this. Ain't they smashers, now? More'n a foot long, both on 'em, and sparkling like a lady'sbracelet. "

"Thank you, thank you. They will be delicious. I have tasted nobreakfast yet. Tell the cook to prepare one for me. "

"Will you have the goodness to trust that ere to Ben Benson, marm, andhe'll see that there's no mistake this time. That same awkward chapbrought a pair of shiners just like these, from the brook last night, and instid of gitting in here, as he expected they would, what does hesee but that ar' gov'rness a-carrying them up in a silver platter toGeneral Harrington's room, as if he'd been sick, and not the lady. Ifyou've no objection, marm, Ben Benson 'll sarve these ere fellowshisself, for the brook hasn't got another of the same sort, if he beatbrush for 'em a week. "

"You are always kind, " answered Mabel, "and it won't be the first timeyou have turned cook in my behalf. Do you remember, Ben, doing likeservices for me in Spain, years ago, when you insisted on leaving theship, and turning courier for us all?"

"Don't I, now?" said Ben, and his face brightened all over. "Didn't BenBenson? He was a smartish youngster then. Didn't he use to scour theirskillets and sasepans, to git the garlic out on 'em? But it wasn't of nouse, that ere garlic strikes through and through even hard iron in themcountries, and a'most everything you touch tastes on it, but the hardbiled eggs that had tough shells to 'em, as I used to bile for you andthe poor sick lady--they stood out agin it. "

Mabel was looking sadly downward, and a troubled shadow came to her faceas she murmured--

"Poor lady--poor lady! How she suffered, and yet how completely herdisease baffled the Spanish physicians! That was a hard death. "

Ben drew close to his mistress as she spoke. A strange meaning was inhis glance, as he said, impressively--

"Lady, that was a strange death. I've seen consumption enough, but itwasn't what ailed _her_!"

Mabel lifted her eyes and looked anxiously at the honest face benttoward her. "How can you think so, Benson?" she said. 

"Because I know who gave that lady her medicine o'nights, when you andthe rest on 'em were in bed, and fast asleep; and I know that one time, at any rate, it wasn't of the same color or taste as that the doctorleft, and she give it ten times when he told her once. I didn't thinkmuch about it at the time, but since then, it's constantly a-coming intomy head. "

Mabel turned deathly pale, and, yielding to a sudden faintness, satdown. 

"You do not think--you cannot think that there was really any neglect?"

"I didn't say nothing about neglect, marm--there wasn't much of that, any how, for the poor lady never had a minute to herself. That erecream-colored gal was always a-hanging over her like a pison vine, andthe more she tended her, the sicker she grew--anybody with an eye to thewindward, could see that without a glass. "

"Benson, you surprise--you pain me!" cried Mabel, with sudden energy. "Great Heavens, what could have put this wild idea into your head?"

"It was in my head years ago, and went to sleep there, " answered Benimpressively--"but the sight of just sich a face, and just sich acretur, all but the color, prowling about this ere very house--in andout like a mouser--has woke up the idee agin, and my own mother couldn'tsing it to sleep, if she rose from the dead with the old lol-lo-by onher lips. I wish something could drive it away, for it's all the time asighing in my ear, like the sound of waves when they close over acorpse. "

"It is a terrible thought, " said Mabel, shuddering. 

"Now, don't go to turning pale nor nothing, " said Ben, with promptanxiety, "don't take it to heart, no how--just as like as not, it's oneof old Ben Benson's sea-sarpents, that'll float off the minute it'stouched, and if it does amount to any thing, ain't that individual herewith his face to the wind, and his hand on the helm? Only do be carefulwhat you eat and drink here alone, if that ere gov'rness is turningwaiter for you or the general. There's a reason for it--be sartain ofthat. "

"How foolish all this is, " said Mabel, striving to laugh. 

"One would think, Benson, that we lived in Italy, when the Borgias madepoison an amusement, instead of being quiet people in the quietest landon earth!"

"The quietest country on earth, " answered Ben, reflecting over her wordswith a hand buried amid the jack-knives, bits of twine, and lumps oflead, in his deepest of deep pockets. "That ere sentiment used to soundbeautiful on a Fourth of July, when I was a shaver, but it's took aftermy example, and out-grown itself a long shot. Why, marm, there ain't erea day but what some poor woman goes through a post mitimus, and two orthree men are found with their skulls driv in by sling shot down in thecity, to say nothing of them that never git under the crouner's hands, but are put away with a doctor's pass, into the grave that somebodyshould be hanged for filling. I can't go out a-fishing on the Hudsonnow, marm, without a feeling that some gang of rowdies may set upon meand steal my boat. I can't go into the city with a sartinty that a bowieknife won't be buried in my side, before I get home. In short, marm, Idon't believe in calling countries quiet where murders and amusements gohand in hand. America was a peaceable country once, but it ain't thatthing no longer. Them ere Borgers, as I've hearn, did their murderssoftly and arter dark, and it won't be long afore we learn to do thething genteelly, as they did. I tell you, marm, I don't like strangersa-running about this house while you and Miss Lina live in it. Ain't theold sarvants enough--What have they done to be turned out of doors?"

"Who has been turned out of doors, Benson? No one by me, " said Mabel, agood deal surprised by this harangue. 

"No, marm--but they're dropping out of their places softly marm, as theleaves fall out yonder, without the least idee what wind strikes 'em. Yesterday, the old cook, as has been in your kitchen twenty years, gother discharge. To-morrow, for anything that old feller knows, Ben Bensonmay git his mitimus, and when he asks to see the lady as he's sarvedheart and soul since he was a boy a'most, they'll tell him as they didthe cook--that this ere lady is sick, and can't be troubled with suchmatters. "

"And have they discharged my cook--poor, faithful Nancy? Is this so, Benson? Who has done it? How dare they!" cried Mabel, surprised andindignant. "Why did she not come to me? Has Nancy really gone?"

"Yes, marm, I saw her myself go off to the city, with a bandbox underher arm, and a man behind, carrying her trunk. "

"But what was her offence?"

"She didn't keep the General's woodcocks quite long enough to make 'emtender--sarved 'em up too fresh and sweet--I don't know of nothing elsethat they brought agin her. "

"And she has gone--actually gone!"

"Bag and baggage, marm; they made clean work of it. "

"They? Of whom do you speak? Not of Lina, not of Mr. Harrington--who, but the General, himself, would dare to discharge my servants?"

"In course, nobody but the old Gineral could do it; but that aregov'rness, marm, as has been a whispering with him in his room and outon it, ever since you've been shut up here. She's been a-doing some ofthat ere Borger work in a new way, pizening the mind, instead of thestomach. Since that ere black-eyed pussy-cat came here and got tomousing around, there hasn't been a mite of comfort anywhere, in-doorsor out. The very boat, as was as kind a craft as ever tuk to water's gotto running contrary, and is allus cutting across currents, and tusslingagin the wind. It ain't Christian, and as like as not, it's slanderingthe poor feller to say it, but my 'pinion is, that Ben Benson'sa-beginning to hate that ere gal like pizon. "

Mabel was so occupied with new thoughts, that she did not hear theconclusion of this speech, but sat gazing steadily on the carpet. 

"What can all this mean, " she reflected. "The General has not been tosee me since the first day of my illness; then the half insolent air ofthis girl--the discharge of my old servant, what can it mean?"

"More 'an this, " continued Ben, warming up, "Nelly the chambermaid is agoing. She says that things don't suit her, and she's got too manymistresses, by half, for her money!"

"This is very strange, " said Mabel, rising with that firm moral courage, which always prompted her to face a difficulty at once. "Say to theGeneral, that I wish to speak with him. "

"The General isn't at home Mar'm, and hasn't been since yesterday. "

"Very well, Benson, I shall dine with the family; a household alwaysgoes wrong when its mistress is away. "

"And shall I cook these beauties for you?" inquired Ben, gathering upthe moist leaves, and laying them over the trout again, with pleasantalacrity; "the new cook mayn't know how to manage 'em; I don't want toflatter that ere conceited feller--but Ben Benson does know how to cooka trout arter he's catched it. "

"Do as you please, Benson; they will certainly taste better from yourhand than if prepared by a cook whom I have never seen. "

"In course they will, " answered Ben, taking up his basket. "I'll go downto the kitchen, and get things under way. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

A RENEWAL OF CONFIDENCE. 

Mabel saw him depart almost unconsciously. The morning had been one ofsurprises and painfully conflicting feelings. She felt that a crisis inher life had arrived, that the time for dreamy thoughts and gentleendurance was at an end, and her strength rose to meet the occasion. Thelassitude and nervous reluctance to give up her seclusion which hadoppressed her of late, gave way, and with that dignity which is born ofwomanly self-command, she changed her toilet, and passed from thesolitude of her sick room. 

The sitting-room which we described in a chapter of this narration wasempty when Mrs. Harrington entered it. The luxurious easy-chairs stoodabout the floor, as if recently occupied, and the fire of hickory-woodburned brightly behind a fender of steel lace-work that broke the lightin a thousand gleams and scattered it far out on the moss-like rug. Everything was as she had left it, even to the position of her owneasy-chair in a corner of the bay window, but the absence of all livingobjects chilled her, and a presentiment of perpetual loneliness creptslowly to her heart, as she sat down, looking out of the window withthat peculiar vividness of interest which we always feel in seeingfamiliar objects after convalescence. 

The gorgeousness and wealth of the autumn had gone by during herillness; a few red and golden trees, contrasted with the hemlocks andpines in sheltered hollows; but, on the hill-tops, half the trees hadcast off their leaves, while those which clung to the boughs had lostall their vivid tints, and thrilled mournfully to every breath of wind, like humanity trembling at the approach of death. 

But the calm flow of the Hudson was the same. Its hills might bestripped of their affluent foliage, the grass grow crisp along itsbanks, but this had no effect on the grand, old stream, that flowed onever the same, like that river of Christian faith that Mabel fed fromthe humble springs of a heart, already smitten down to its deepestwaters. 

She was a strong woman, that Mabel Harrington, and knew well that notrouble could fall upon her, of which she had not already tasted thebitterness, and lived. 

But the flow of those waters, gliding by her ever and returning no more, filled her with mournfulness. She felt like a pilgrim who drops hisscrip on the wayside for a moment's rest, and dreads the hour when hemust take it up and toil on, with a patient hope of finding some shrineat which he may repose, though none is in sight. 

"Well, " she murmured with a patient smile, which came across her mobilefeatures with a gleam of heavenly beauty, "Let it flow on, this earthlylife; be it laggard or fast, the moments that we leave behind but sendus onward with a swifter speed. The descent grows steeper every day, andyears rush on impetuously, as hours did in that beautiful time of youth. The stream of life was impetuous then. Now it is slow and powerful, norstops to foam and ripple at the troubles that are always falling, likedrift-wood upon it. "

Thus Mabel mused within herself--confident that some stern trial was athand, but resolved to meet it steadily, and trust to God for help. Sheneeded such help; for, in solemn truth, the great battle of her life wasat hand. 

The door opened softly behind her, as she sat gazing upon the river. Theback of her chair was toward him, and James Harrington saw only thegarments of a female flowing downward to the carpet; and, thinking thatit was Lina, he came into the room. He, too, had been gazing upon thescene without, and thoughts kindred to those stirring in Mabel's heart, and left him sad and gentle as a child. 

"Lina, my sweet child, " he said approaching the chair, "I am glad tofind you in-doors. "

Mabel started at the sound of his voice, with a quick leap of the heart;then, she arose slowly and stood up, holding forth her hand, as a sistermight claim congratulations of her brother after illness. 

"It is not Lina, James, but one whom you will not be less pleased tosee, I am sure. How is this? You look pale and careworn, my friend; haveyou, also, been ill?"

For one instant, the flash that lighted up Harrington's eyes wasdazzling--the next, he grew calm again; but the expression of his facewas unutterably mournful. 

"I had a very long walk; the fine weather tempted me too far, " he said, with a faint smile, relinquishing her hand almost the moment it wastaken. 

He did not inquire after her health, but stood for a moment, thoughtfully regarding her. 

Mabel smiled, and instantly his own features grew luminous. 

"I am glad, I am very glad to see you so much better, " he said, yieldingto the old friendly habit; "it has been very lonely without you. "

"I hope you missed me, " said Mabel, the pure joy of an affectionateheart breaking over her face. "That was a fearful night, Harrington. "

"It was, indeed, fearful. I shudder to remember that night. It seemsimpossible to imagine anything more dreadful than the scene, as thatsteamer ploughed over your boat. When you came up, with the bluelightning quivering around you, the rocks seemed to reel under my feet. Nothing but the power of God could have saved you then. "

"I remember--I knew it all, " said Mabel, lifting her clasped handsgratefully upward. "The last thing that left me, was your figure on therock; no, not on the rock, but midway between me and the bleak waves. Itried to scream, but the waters choked me. "

Harrington took her hand, and wrung it with unconscious warmth. 

"Thank God, it is over, " he said fervently. 

"I do thank God, first, that I am alive, and, then, that it was one ofour own household that saved me. But this coming back from death, it isfull of pain, to which the last agony seems but little. The scene aroundthat old tree haunts me yet. "

"And me, " said Harrington, thoughtfully. 

"You all looked so strange and wild, I could not comprehend the identityof any one. Even Ben Benson appeared like an angel luminous from Heaven, and that cedar a pillar of holy flame, around which he ministered. "

"You did not know any of us, then?" inquired Harrington, eagerly. 

"I did not know myself, for I, too, seemed like an angel, bound to loveeverything around me, as heavenly spirits do. "

"Then you remembered nothing?" questioned Harrington, bending hisearnest eyes upon her with a power that would have won the truth from astatue. 

She did not blush; her eyes looked quietly and truthfully into his, anda pang both of joy and regret came to his heart, as he regarded theinnocence of that look. 

"It was, after all, a pleasant hallucination, " said Mabel, "for eventhe governess, whom I do not much like, seemed transformed into aseraph, as she bent over me. As for Ben Benson, he was really sublime. "

"Thank God!" answered Harrington, but the exclamation was followed by adeep sigh, as if the anxiety preying upon him had been changed, notentirely removed. Still there was a relief and freedom in his manner, ashe drew a chair up to the window, and fell into his old habit of talk. 

"Why is it, " inquired Mabel, "that you have not once been to inquireafter me? It was very strange. "

"I did inquire after you every day, " was the rather embarrassed answer. 

"I did not hear of it, " said Mabel, easily satisfied, and too happy forrepining at anything. 

"You may not know, " answered her companion, "that I have been makingarrangements to go abroad?"

"Abroad? But when--why?"

"Indeed, it seems impossible to give a reason, except that my healthseemed to require change. "

"Your health?"

"Remember, please, that your first remark was about my looks. "

"But you are not really suffering?"

"Not now--not as I have been. "

"But you will leave us?"

Harrington left his seat, and began to pace the room, as was his habit, when conflicting thoughts beset him. Mabel followed his movements sadlywith her eyes, which were eloquent of a thousand gentle feelings. 

"And you _will_ go?" she said at last, with a quiver of the voice. "Youwill leave us all?"

"No, " answered Harrington with energy, "I will not go. Why undertake apilgrimage when there is nothing to gain, and nothing to avoid. "

"Thank you--thank you, " said Mabel, with her eyes full of tears. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE LOVE SONG. 

There was a slight stir in the hall, and Ralph came into Mrs. Harrington's room followed by Lina, both brilliant and smiling, as ifthe conservatory in which they had loitered away the hours, had bathedthem with the perfume of its blossoms. 

"Oh, mamma, it is so pleasant!" cried Lina, stealing forward and seatingherself on a cushion at Mabel's feet. "Isn't this a beautiful, beautifulday?"

"All days are beautiful to the light-hearted, " answered Mabel, buryingher hand fondly in the golden curls that fell, a perfect network oflight, from Lina's drooping head. "I thought it very dull and heavy thismorning; now, the air seems invigorating as old wine. Still, I think theday itself has changed but little. "

"Hasn't it?" questioned Lina, looking up tenderly through the sunny mistof her hair. "But you are so much better, and look so blooming--perhapsit is that. "

"Perhaps, " said Ralph, stooping down and kissing his mother's forehead, "it's because we are all together again; even this room seems like adesert, when our lady mother is absent. This should be a gala day withus; what shall we do, Lina? Crown her with roses, or bring an offeringof fruit and nuts from the hills. "

"I will give her some music, " answered Lina, springing up and taking herguitar from a sofa, where it had been lying, neglected and untuned;"mamma shall have a serenade. "

Lina flung the broad, blue ribbon attached to the guitar over her neck;and, seating herself again, began to tune her instrument, with herpleasant eyes lifted to Mabel's face. 

"Now, what shall it be about, " she inquired, casting a half-coquettishlook at Ralph, and blushing like a damask rose beneath the brightness ofhis eyes. "What shall I sing about, mamma?"

"Oh, love, sing of nothing but love, to-day, sweet Lina, " whisperedRalph, as he stooped down and pretended to adjust the ribbon over herwhite neck. 

"Shall I, mamma?" said Lina. 

"Sing anything that pleases you, " answered Mabel. 

"Then it shall be some lines, mamma, that I found in an old book in thelibrary, with the leaves of a white rose folded in the paper. It wasyellow with age, and so were the poor, dead leaves. I took it to myroom, learned it by heart, and found out that it went by the music of anold song which Ralph and I used to sing together. That is all I knowabout love, " continued the rogue, with a blush and a glance upward. 

"Well, well, pretty torment, begin, " whispered Ralph, again busy withthe ribbon. 

For a moment, Lina's little hand fluttered like a bird over the stringsof her guitar; then it made a graceful dash, and her voice broke forth:

 Like a water-lily floating, On the bosom of a rill, Like a star sent back to Heaven, When the lake is calm and still; A woman's soul lies dreaming, On the stilly waves of life, Till love comes with its sunshine-- Its tenderness and strife. 

 Then hope grows bright and glorious, Her faith is deep and strong, And her thoughts swell out like music Set to a heavenly song; Her heart has twined its being, And awakes from its repose As that water-lily trembles When its chalice overflows. 

 Then she feels a new existence-- For the loveless do not live!-- The best wealth of the universe Is hers to keep and give-- Wealth, richer than earth's golden veins That yield their blood to toil, And brighter than the diamond lights That burn within the soil. 

 Oh, her soul is full of richness, Like a goblet of old wine Wreathed in with purple blossoms And soft tendrils of the vine; Its holy depths grow luminous, Its strings are sweet with tune, And the visions floating through it Have the rosiness of June. 

 Oh, she counts not time by cycles, Since the day that she was born! From the soul-time of a woman Let all the years be shorn Not full of grateful happiness-- Not brimming o'er with love-- Not speaking of her womanhood To the Holy One above. 

Mabel gave a start as the first words of this melody fell upon her ear, and the slow crimson stole over her face; she kept her gaze steadily onthe carpet, and had any one looked at her, the sadness of hercountenance must have been remarked. But the young people were occupiedwith each other, and James Harrington sat, like herself, preoccupied andlistening. As Lina broke into another and lighter air, the two lookedup, and their eyes met. The blush on Mabel's cheek spread and glowedover her brow and temples. She arose, and went to the window. 

"You have heard this before, I think, " said Harrington, following her. 

"Yes, " answered Mabel, regaining self-control; "and always truthful. Iremembered it at once. "

"And the author?"

Again Mabel blushed. "Oh, it was written years ago. "

"Then you were the author?"

"Oh, yes; why not. I wrote a great many trifles like that at one time. "

"I knew it; I was sure of it. "

That instant the governess came in, followed by Fair-Star, who began toplunge and caper at the sight of his mistress. Agnes looked keenly atMrs. Harrington's flushed face; but, the covert smile, dawning on herlip, vanished, as she saw Ralph in the chair his mother had abandoned, bending over Lina; who sat upon the cushion, trifling with her guitar, from which, in her confusion, she drew forth a broken strain, now andthen. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A MEETING IN THE HILLS. 

"Mammy, this is too much. I can endure it no longer. You keep me workingin the dark, and every step I take but adds to my own misery. I ambaffled, defeated, almost exposed, and yet you say, go on. "

Agnes Barker spoke in a harsh, angry tone. Her eyes blazed with passion. Her features had lost all their usual grace. She was not the same beingwhom we saw creeping softly into the family circle at GeneralHarrington's with that velvety tread and sidelong glance of the eye. 

The woman who stood before her, regarded this outbreak with signs ofkindred impatience, and gathering a vast blanket shawl of crimson andgreen around her imposing figure, she stood with her arms wreathedtogether in the gorgeous folds, steadily regarding the impetuous youngcreature, till the fury of her first onset had exhausted itself. 

They had met upon the hill-side, upon the very spot where MabelHarrington rested after her rescue from the Hudson, and the charredtrunk of the cedar stood like a pillar of ruined ebony, just behind thewoman, with the sunset playing around it, and spotting the rocks behindwith flecks and dashes of golden light. 

This, with naked trees, and a broken hill towering upward, formed abackground to the two persons who had met by appointment, and who alwayscame together with a clash which made each interview a mental and moralstorm. 

The woman remained silent for a moment after this rude assault, andfixed her dark, oriental eyes with a sort of fascination on the flushedface lifted in audacious rebellion to hers. 

"Agnes, " she said at last, "I am weary of this rebellion, of this rudequestioning. In intrigue, as in war, there can be but one commander, andthere must be implicit obedience. "

"I am obedient--I have been so from the beginning, " answered the girl, yielding to the frown of those eyes, "until you asked me to stand by andwitness the triumphs of a rival--to see the man I love better than myown soul, better than ten thousand souls, if I had them, parading hispassion for another in my very presence. Till you asked this, I wasobedient, but I can endure it no longer. They are torturing me todeath!"

"Not to death, " said the woman with a strange smile. "Women who love asyou can, and as I did, have no power to die. Tortured you may be to theverge of the grave, but never into it. Listen, girl, and learn howcharitable and just the world is. When wrong stings the soul intostrength, and every access of vitality brings an additional pang to it, while you would gladly call on death as a comforter, and court oblivionas a second heaven, men denounce you for the very strength of endurancethat cannot succumb to trouble. The suffering that does not kill, bringsforth no compassion. Struggle is nothing--endurance is nothing--it isonly those who weakly lie down and perish, that can claim charity of theworld, and then it comes too late. With you and I, Agnes, love isdestiny. What I have been and am, you will be. Our hearts are strong toendure, sensitive to feel, and quick to resent. Time, alone, divides ustwo. Where you are passionate, I am strong. Where you would act, I canwait. The fire of my own nature breaks out too vividly in your girlishbosom. It must be suppressed, or quenched altogether. The woman who doesnot know how to wait and watch, should die of her first love, and letschool-girls plant daisies on her grave. "

Agnes watched the impetuous movement of those features as the womanspoke, and her own face worked in harmony till no one could have doubtedthe sympathy existing between them. Her eyes lost something of theirfire, and took that deep, smouldering light which springs from aconcentration of will. Her arms unconsciously folded themselves on herbosom, and she answered, with the air of a princess--

"I will learn to wait. Only give me some assurance that Ralph Harringtonshall not marry that girl. "

"He never shall marry her--is that enough?"

"But he loves her, and General Harrington has consented, or almostconsented. "

"Ha! but the mother?"

"There again you have been mistaken. His mother has not only consented, but seems rejoiced at the attachment. "

"But you told me that she fainted at the very idea. "

"And so she did, but in less than twenty-four hours after we met, shesanctioned the engagement with a joy that surpassed their own. "

"What! in your presence?"

"Not exactly, " answered Agnes, confessing her meanness without a blush. "I took advantage of the flower-screen which you know of, and, behindthe plants, with the help of a floating curtain, managed to hear everyword, and to see enough--more than enough. "

The woman seemed surprised. Her brow contracted, and she looked hard atAgnes, as one appears to search through an object without seeing it, when the mind resolves a new idea. 

"This is strange, " she said; "I had more faith in Mabel Harrington'spride. She glories in her son, you say--yet is willing to marry him to apenniless foundling. "

"And is Lina a foundling?" inquired Agnes, eagerly. 

The woman did not heed her. 

"I would not believe it, " she muttered--"and General Harrington--whatcan it all mean? I thought one might safely calculate on his familypride. "

"If you have calculated much on that, it is all over with me, I can tellyou, " said the girl, sullenly unfolding her arms. "I do not thinkGeneral Harrington cares much who his son marries, so long as he is notcalled upon for help. You tell me that Mr. James is the millionaire. Ralph will be independent of his father so long as he keeps on the rightside of the richer Harrington. "

"Then this thing is settled, " muttered the woman, with her eyes castdownward, and her brows gathered in a frown. 

"Yes, with all your management, it _is_ settled. "

"You are mistaken, girl. Now, I will teach you how much faith can beplaced on a woman's promise. Ralph Harrington shall not marry LinaFrench. "

Agnes looked suddenly up. The woman's face was composed and confident;her eyes sparkled, and her lip curved proudly, as if conscious of havingresolved some difficulty to her own satisfaction. 

"What do you mean, mammy? How can you prevent it?"

"I will prevent it, girl. "

"But, how?"

"General Harrington shall withdraw his consent. "

Agnes laughed rather scornfully. "_Shall_ withdraw his consent? Who willmake him?"

"As a reward for your obedience, _you_ shall make him. "

"I, mammy? but he is not easily won upon; the General has strange ideasof his own, which one does not know how to meet. There is nothing, itseems to me, so unimpressible as a worldly old man--especially if he hashad all heart polished out of him by what is called society. It takes agreat deal to disturb the apathy of men who have settled down fromactive evil into selfish respectability; and that, I take it, is GeneralHarrington's present condition. "

"Then, the influence that you rather boasted of has failed of late, Itake it, " said the woman, with a gleam of the eye at once unpleasant andtriumphant. 

Agnes colored with mortified vanity, but she answered, with a forcedlaugh:

"A young girl of eighteen does not care to waste much energy on aconceited old man, at any one's command. Still, if you desire it, I willstrive to be more agreeable. "

"No, " answered the woman, sharply, "I will control this matter hereaftermyself. That affair of the journal was badly managed, Agnes. "

"I did the best in my power, " replied the girl, with a tinge ofinsolence in her manner. "But, how was it possible to force a knowledgeof the contents on the old man, after I had denied reading the book? Hemust have opened at some unimportant passage, or a deeper interestwould have been excited. "

"Are you certain that he did not read the book?" demanded the woman. 

"I am certain that it lies unlocked in a drawer of his writing-desk, this moment, where I saw him place it, while I turned to close thelibrary door after me. "

"But, he may have read it. "

"Impossible, for when I went to look, an hour after, one half of theclasp had accidentally been shut into the book, a thing that could nothappen twice in the same way; and there it lies yet. "

The woman dropped into thought an instant, with her eyes on the ground;a shade of sadness came to her face, and she murmured regretfully:

"Indeed, how he must have changed: one so passionate, so suspicious, so"----

She started and looked up, keenly regarding Agnes Barker, as if angrythat these broken thoughts were overheard--angry in vain, for the gentlereminiscences of which she was ashamed had trembled away from her lipsin a deep sigh; and Agnes only saw a look of tender trouble, wheresuspicion and anger had been a moment before. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

CONTINUED PLOTTING. 

"Mammy, " said Agnes, with a sudden gush of sympathy, "what is there inGeneral Harrington's family that interests you so much?"

The woman answered her with a keen glance and a single word:

"Everything!"

"And will you tell me nothing?"

"No, girl, I will not startle your nerves and confuse your intellectwith a history that, as yet, you could not understand. Do not importuneme again; I will not submit to it. "

"Then I will do nothing more!" said Agnes, petulantly. 

"I do not intend that you shall. The whole thing is, I find, beyond yourmanagement. I might have known that your first step would be to fall inlove with a boy. "

"Well, and if I did, has that prevented me carrying out all yourdirections?"

"It has blindfolded and paralyzed you--that is all!"

"It maddened me to know that he loved another, and yet I acted withcoolness throughout. "

"What was this penniless boy to either of us, that you should havethwarted, or, at least, delayed all my plans for James Harrington----"

"He is all the world to me!" cried Agnes, "Worth ten thousand GeneralHarringtons and James Harringtons. I tell you, once for all, I would notmarry that solemn-faced bachelor, with all his millions, if he were atmy feet this instant. "

"And this is why you would not obey the directions I gave, regardingyour conduct toward him?"

"Obey! why, everything was done to the letter. I followed him to theconservatory, and kept him half an hour that morning talking over MissLina's studies. One by one I gathered the flowers so often mentioned inthat journal, and tied them in a bouquet, which I offered him; blushing, I am sure, as much as you could wish, for my face burned like flame. "

"Well, did he take the flowers?"

"He turned white at the first glance, and put them back with his hand;muttering that the scent of verbena and roses together, always made himfaint. "

"Ha!--he said that--he turned pale; it is better than I expected?" criedthe woman, eagerly. "Well, what else?"

"Nothing more. He went out from the conservatory at once, leaving mestanding there, half-frightened to death with the bouquet in my hand;but I turned it to account. "

"Well, how?"

"Why, as it produced so decided an effect in one quarter, I concluded tomake another experiment, and went into Mrs. Harrington's boudoir withthe flowers in my hand. She saw them--started and blushed to thetemples--hesitated an instant, and then held out her hand; it trembledlike a leaf, and I could see her eyes fill with moisture--not tearsexactly, but a sort of tender dew. It was enough to make one pity her, when I kept back the bouquet, saying, that it had just been given tome. "

"Well, what followed? You are sure it was the flowers--that sherecognized the arrangement at once?"

"It could be nothing else; besides, she became cold and haughty all atonce. The blush left her face pale as snow, and she shrouded her eyeswith one hand, as if to shut me and my flowers out from her sight. I sawher hand shiver as I fastened the roses upon my bosom; and when I wentout into the grounds a short time after, intending to join Mr. Harrington again, a curve in the path gave me a view of her window--andthere she stood, looking out so wistfully. Determined to force herjealousy to the utmost, I hurried up to Mr. James Harrington, and beganto consult him regarding my pupil's exercise and lessons, the onlysubject I really believe that he could have been induced to speak about, for he seemed terribly depressed. "

"And she stood watching you all the time?"

"No, not all the time; for, when in the eagerness of mysubject--remember I am deeply interested in Lina's progress--I reachedmy hand towards Mr. Harrington's arm, not touching it, though it musthave appeared so from the distance, she disappeared from the window, asif a ball had struck her; and I took a short cut through theshrubberies, quite satisfied with the information those two pretty roseshad won for us. Now, say if I have been altogether blind or inert?"

"Indeed, I was unjust to think it; this is an important point gained. There is no doubt that the feelings so vividly recorded in that journalexist yet; this knowledge opens everything to us. "

"Then I have done pretty well for a blind girl, " persisted Agnes, with atouch of sarcasm in her voice; "give me, at least, that praise. "

"With one exception, child, you have done well in everything. "

"And that exception--I know what you mean, but where Ralph Harrington isconcerned, I will not be controlled. "

"No one wishes to control you, foolish girl. Be obedient and adroit asyou have been, and this blue-eyed girl shall be swept from your pathlike thistle downs. "

"Ah, do this, and I am twice your slave!" cried Agnes, with an impulseof genuine feeling, flinging her arms around the elder woman. 

"And you love him so much!" said the woman, returning her caress with atouch of sympathy--"well, child, well--since the reading of that book Ihave thought better of it. It may be, that your silly caprice for thisboy can be indulged without interfering with more important objects. This first love is--well, well, no matter what it is, I would rather notturn it to gall in the bosom of a young girl. So trust me, Agnes, and befaithful. "

"I will!"

"Now, listen, child. Have you settled about the old servants?"

"Indeed I have. The cook is away already--the chambermaid discontentedand going to-morrow. As for that uncouth boatman and factotum, I findhim hard to manage--he will neither take offence, nor listen to anythingI say. "

"Let him pass. It will not do for us to frighten off too many at once. But the new cook--what is she?"

"Fresh from Germany, and speaks no English. "

"That will do. Now listen. You must intercede with General Harringtonfor your poor old mammy, up yonder, as chambermaid, when this one isgone. "

Agnes opened her eyes wide, and a low laugh broke from her lips, thatwere at first parted with astonishment. 

"Mammy, what can you mean!"

The woman answered as much by the crafty smile, that crept over herface, as by words. 

"The old house is cold and lonely, Agnes, and the poor old slave will bemuch more comfortable in a service-place for the winter, you understand. She must have the place. "

"In real earnest?"

"In real earnest. "

"Well, it shall be done--but you will keep your word, this time. "

"Have I ever broken it to you?"

"I don't know; in fact, until the whole of this affair is made plain tome, all must be doubt and darkness. I know that my mission is to leavedistrust and misery wherever my voice reaches, or my step can forceitself in that household--yet they have all been kind to me, and most ofall, the lady herself. "

"_She_ kind to _you_! I know what such kindness is. A sweet, gentleindifference, that for ever keeps you at arms' length, or that proudpatronage of manner, which is more galling still. Oh, yes, I have feltit. Such kindness is poison. "

"I did not find it so, " said Agnes, with a touch of feeling, "till yourlessons began to work. Then, acting like a traitor, I felt like one, andbegan to hate those I wronged. But, I suppose this is always so. "

The woman laughed. "You turn philosopher early, young lady. Most girlsof your age are content to feel and act--you must stop to analyze andreflect. It is a bad habit. "

"I suppose so--certainly reflection gives me no pleasure, " answered thegirl, a little sadly. 

"Well, well, child, we have no time for sentiment, now. The sun isalmost down, and you have a long walk before you--another week, and ifyou manage to get your poor old mammy a place, we need not chillourselves to death in these damp woods. She will bring messages back andforth, you know!"

Agnes shook her head, and laughed, "Oh, mammy, mammy!"

The woman mocked her laugh with a sort of good-natured bitterness. "There now, that is easily managed, but there is something else for youto undertake; wait. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE NOTE WITH A GREEN SEAL. 

The woman took from among the folds of her dress, a small writing-caseof satin wood, formed like a scroll. Touching a spring, she opened it, took out implements for writing, and some note-paper, which emitted afaint and very peculiar perfume, as she began to write. After tracing afew hasty lines, she folded the paper, placed it carefully in anenvelope, and proceeded to seal it. Taking from her pocket a singularlittle taper box of gold, covered with antique chasing, she lighted oneof the tapers, and dropped a globule of green wax upon her note, whichshe carefully impressed with a tiny seal taken from another compartmentof the taper box. 

Agnes watched all this dainty preparation with a look of half-sarcasticsurprise. When the note was placed in her hand, she examined the addressand the seal with parted lips, as if she would have smiled, but for afeeling of profound astonishment. 

"To General Harrington. The seal a cupid writing on a tablet. Well, whatam I to do with this?"

"Leave it upon General Harrington's library-table after breakfast, to-morrow morning--that is all. "

The woman arose, folded up her writing case, and gathering thevoluminous folds of her shawl from the moss, where it had been allowedto trail, turned away. Agnes watched her as she disappeared through theforest trees with a rapid step, fluttering out her shawl now and then, like the wings of some great tropical bird. 

"I wonder who she really is, and what she would be at?" muttered thegirl. "Do all girls distrust so much? Now, this note--shall I read it, and learn what mystery links her with the family up yonder? Why not? Itis but following out her own lessons, so it be done adroitly. "

Agnes placed her finger carefully upon the envelope, and with a steadypressure, forced it from under the wax. 

"Ha! neatly done!" she exclaimed, taking out the enclosed, and unfoldingit with hands that shook, spite of herself, "and a fool for my pains, truly. I might have known she would baffle me--written in cypher, evento the name. Well, one thing is certain, that my witch and old GeneralHarrington understand each other, that is something gained. If I had buttime, now, to make out these characters, and--and"--

She broke off almost with a shriek, for a hand was reached over hershoulder, and the note taken suddenly from her grasp, while she stoodcowering beneath the discovery of her meanness. The woman whom she hadsupposed on the other side the hill, stood smiling quietly upon her. Nota word was spoken. The woman took out her taper box, dropped some freshwax beneath the seal, and smiling all the time, handed the note backagain. 

Agnes turned her face, now swarthy with shame, aside from that smilinglook, and began to plunge her little foot down angrily into the moss, biting her lips till the blood came. At last, she lifted her head with atoss, and turning her black eyes boldly on the woman, said, in a voiceof half-tormenting defiance, "Very well, what if I did open it? My firstlesson was, when you and I read Mrs. Harrington's letter. If that wasright, this is, also. "

"Who complained? Who, in fact, cares?" was the terse answer, "only itwas badly done. The next time you break a seal, be sure and have wax ofexactly the same tint on hand. I thought of that, and came back. Itwould ruin all, if General Harrington saw his letters tampered with. "

"You are a strange woman!" said Agnes, shaking off the weight of shamethat oppressed her, and preparing to go. 

"And you, a strange girl. Now go home, and leave the note as I directed. In a day or two we shall meet again. Almost any time, at nightfall youwill find me here. Good night!"

"Good night, " said Agnes, sullenly, "I will obey you this once, butremember my reward. "

Again the two parted, and each went on her separate path of evil--theone lost in shadows, the other bathed in the light of a warm sunset. 

It did not strike the woman, as she toiled upward to her solitarydwelling, that she was training a viper which would in the end turn andsting her own bosom. Her evil purposes required instruments, and withouthesitation, she had gathered them out of her own life. But, even now, she found them difficult to wield, and hard to control. What they mightprove in the future remained for proof. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

GENERAL HARRINGTON'S CONFESSION. 

General Harrington had spent a good many years of his life abroad, andno American ever went through that slow and too fashionable method ofexpatriation with more signal effect. While walking through the roomspeculiarly devoted to his use, you might have fancied yourself intrudingon the privacy of some old nobleman of Louis the Fourteenth's court. 

His bed chamber was arranged after the most approved French style, hisdressing-room replete with every conceivable invention of the toilet, from the patent boot-jack with its silver mountings, to the superbdressing-case, glittering with gold and crystal, everything was perfectin its sumptuousness. In his own house, this old man was given up toself-worship, without a shadow of concealment. In society the gracefulhypocrisy of his deportment was beautiful to contemplate, like any otherexhibition of the highest art. If benevolence was the fashion, thenGeneral Harrington was the perfection of philanthropy. Nay, as it washis ambition to lead, the exemplary gentleman sometimes made a littleexertion to render benevolence the rage! His name often lead incommittees for charity festivals, and he was particularly interested inseeing that the funds were distributed with the most distinguishedelegance, and by ladies sure to dignify humanity by distributing themunificence of the fashionable world in flowing silks and immaculatewhite gloves. 

After this fashion, the General was a distinguished philanthropist. Indeed, humanity presents few conditions of elegant selfishness in whichhe was not prominent. A tyrant in his own household, he had, from hisyouth up, been the veriest slave to the world in which he moved. Itshomage was essential to his happiness. He could not entirely cheat hisastute mind into a belief of his own perfections, without the constantacclamations of society. As he grew old, this assurance became more andmore essential to his self-complacency. 

The General studied a good deal. His mind was naturally of more thanordinary power, and it was necessary that he should keep up with thediscoveries and literature of the day, in order to shine as a savant, and belles-lettres scholar. Thus some three or four hours of every daywere spent in his library, and few professional men studied harder tosecure position in life, than he did to accumulate knowledge which hadno object higher than self-gratulation. 

Still, with all his selfishness and want of true principle, the Generalwas, at least, by education, a gentleman, and he would at any time havefound it much easier to force himself into an act of absolutewickedness, than to be thought guilty of ill-breeding in any of itsforms. In short, with General Harrington, habit stood in the place ofprinciple. He possessed few of those high passions that lead men intorash or wicked deeds, and never was guilty of wrong without knowing it. 

Unconsciously to herself, Agnes Barker had wounded the old man in hisweakest point, when she resented his question if she had read Mabel'sjournal, with so much pride. This haughty denial was a reproach to theimpulse that had seized him to read the book from beginning to end. Hisconscience had nothing to urge in the matter, but the meanness of thething he intended, struck him forcibly, and after a moment's hesitation, he closed the journal and laid it in a drawer of his desk. Thus, byaffectation and over-acting, the girl defeated her object, much to herown mortification. The passage on which General Harrington had opened atrandom, was in itself harmless, a warm and somewhat glowing descriptionof a passage up the Guadalquivir in the spring months, had nothing in itto provoke farther research, and the General seldom read much from merecuriosity. Certainly, the book might contain many secret thoughts andhidden feelings of which Mabel's husband had never dreamed, but it wasmany years since the old gentleman had taken sufficient interest in thefeelings of his wife to care about their origin or changes, and so, Mabel's precious book, in which so many secret thoughts were registered, and memories stored, lay neglected in her husband's desk. 

Fortunately, she was unconscious of her loss. Sometimes for monthstogether, she shrank from opening the escritoir in which the volume waskept. At this period, she was under the reaction of a great excitement, and turned with a nervous shudder from anything calculated to remind herof all the pain which lay in the past. 

Another reason, perhaps, why General Harrington was less curious abouthis wife's journal than seemed natural to his tempters, lay in his ownpreoccupation at the time. One of his youthful vices had grown strong, and rooted itself amid the selfishness of his heart; all other sins hadso cooled down and hardened in his nature, that with most men they mighthave passed for virtues, the evil was so buried in elegantconventionalisms; but one active vice he still possessed, alwaysgleaming up from the white ashes of his burnt out sins, with a spark ofvivid fire. 

General Harrington was a gambler. Understand me----it is not probablethat he had ever entered a gambling hall openly or frankly since hisyouth, or ever sat down with swindlers or professed blacklegs around thefaro table. The General was altogether too fastidious in his vices forthat. No, he rather plumed himself secretly upon the aristocraticfashion in which he indulged this most lasting remembrance of a recklessyouth. 

The club life of England had always possessed great fascinations forthis fine old republican gentleman, and he was among the first tointroduce the system in New York. Here, his naturally fine energies hadbeen vigorously put forth, and he became not only a prominent member ofan aristocratic club, but a principal director and supporter also. 

At this lordly rendezvous, the General spent a great portion of histime, and somehow, I do not pretend to point out the direct process, forit was generally understood that no high play was sanctioned in theestablishment, and the mysterious glances and half-murmurs whichtransferred five dollar notes into five thousand, as the harmless gamesproceeded, are not capable of an embodiment--but, it chanced very often, that General Harrington found a transfer of funds necessary after one ofthese club nights, and once or twice, a rather unpleasant interview withMr. James Harrington had been the result. 

But these unsatisfactory consequences seldom arose. The General was toocool and self-controlled to be always the loser, and up to the time ofour story, this one active vice had rather preponderated in favor of hisown interests. 

But a rash adventure, and a sudden turn of fortune, reversed all this ina single night; and General Harrington--who possessed only the oldmansion-house, and a few thousand a year in his own right--all at oncefound himself involved to more than the value of his family home, andtwo years income in addition. Close upon this, came that fearfulaccident upon the river----and, worse still, the application of his sonto marry a penniless little girl, whose very existence depended on hischarity. 

With all these perplexities on his mind, the General had very littletime for idle curiosity, and thus his wife's secret remained for thetime inviolate. 

Like most extravagant men, the General, under the weight of an enormousgambling debt, became excessively parsimonious in his household, andtalked loudly of retrenchment and home reforms. In this new mood, AgnesBarker found little difficulty in having several of the old servantsdischarged, before Mabel left her sick room. Indeed this girl, with hervelvety tread and fawning attentions, was the only one of his householdwith whom General Harrington was not for the time in ill-humor. 

With all his self-possession, this old man was a moral coward. He knewthat James Harrington was the only person to whom he could look forhelp--and yet the very thought of applying to him, made the gall risebitterly in his bosom. To save time, he gave notes for the debt, andmade no change in his life, save that he was away from home now almostconstantly--a circumstance which the members of his household scarcelyremarked in their new-found happiness. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE NOTE ON THE BREAKFAST TABLE. 

One morning General Harrington came forth from his bed chamber, harassedand anxious. He had slept little during the night, and the weariness ofage would make itself felt, after a season of excitement like thatthrough which he had passed. 

He found the Sevrés cup on his table, filled with strong, hot coffee, and a muffin delicately toasted, upon the salver of frosted silver, byits side. Indeed, as he entered the room, a flutter of garments reachedhim from the door, and he muttered, with a smile, as he looked in anopposite mirror. 

"Faith, the little girl is very kind; I must think of this. " He sat downand drank off the coffee, rejecting the muffin with a faint expressionof disgust. As he lifted it from the salver, a note, lying half acrossthe edge, as if it had lodged there when the papers on the table werepushed aside, attracted his attention. He was about to cast it on oneside, when a singular perfume came across him with a sickeningsweetness. Snatching at the note, he stared an instant at the seal, andtore it open. 

The color left General Harrington's cheek. As he read he started up, crushing the note in his hand, while he rang the bell. 

"Did you ring, General. I was going by, and so answered the bell, " saidAgnes Barker, presenting herself. 

"Yes, I rang, certainly I rang--but where are the servants? Where is thewoman who takes charge of my rooms?"

"The chambermaid? oh, she went away yesterday. I believe Mrs. Harringtonhas not supplied her place yet. "

"Who brought up my coffee? who arranged my rooms yesterday and thismorning?"

Agnes blushed, and cast down her eyes in pretty confusion. "The new cookhas not learned your ways, sir; there was no one else, and I"----

"You are very kind, Miss Agnes--another time I shall not forget it: but, tell me, here is a note lying on my table near the breakfast tray; howlong has it been there--who brought it--where did it come from?"

Agnes looked up, with the most innocent face in the world. 

"Indeed, sir, I cannot tell. A good many papers lay on the table, whichI carefully put aside; but no sealed note, that I remember. "

"This is strange, " muttered the General, walking up and down, stoppingto look in his coffee-cup, as if still athirst; but waving her away whenAgnes filled it again, and would have pressed it upon him. 

"Remove these things, Miss Agnes, if you please--and order some one tohave the carriage ready. I must go to the city at once. "

Agnes took up the salver, and moved away, hesitating, by the door, as ifshe wished to speak. 

"Well, " said the General, a little impatiently, "is there anything I cando?"

"The chambermaid, sir, I dare say Mrs. Harrington has no choice; and Ishould be so obliged if you permitted my old nurse to have the place. She is very capable, and I am lonely without her. "

"A colored woman, is it?" asked the General, hastily. 

"Yes, from the South. She is all I have left. "

"Of course, let her come, if she knows her duty. I will mention it toMrs. Harrington. "

"Thank you, " said the girl, gliding softly away. "It will make me sohappy to have some one in the house that loves me. "

The General answered this attack on his sympathies, with an impatientwave of the hand. He seemed greatly disturbed--and, as the door closed, threw himself into a chair, with something like a groan. 

"Can this be true? Lina, poor little Lina, can this be real? and Ralph, my own son. Great Heavens, it is terrible!"

He swept a hand across his forehead, distractedly. Then, starting up, asif stung to action by some agonizing thought, he began to pace up anddown the room with a degree of excitement very unusual to him. Atlength he paused by the window, and, opening the note, again read itover and over with great anxiety. At last he went to a desk standing ina corner of the room, and opening one secret drawer after another, drewforth a bundle of faded letters. As he untied them, the identicalperfume that hung about the note he had been reading, stole around him;and, turning paler and paler, as if the odor made him faint, he began toread the letters, one after another, comparing them first with the note, and then with a key to the cypher in which they were all written, thathe took from another compartment of the desk. 

At last he drew a deep breath, and wearily folded the papers up. 

"This is plausible, and it may be true, " he said, locking his hands onthe table. "The persistent malice of the thing, confirms itsprobability. She was capable of it--capable of anything; and yet I dothink the poor creature loved me. If I could but see her, and learn allthe facts from her own lips. Yet the note is better evidence. Who, except us two, ever learned this cypher? How else could she have knownthese particulars about poor Lina? But, this is terrible. I did notthink anything could shake me so! Ralph, my son Ralph, I must speak withhim----No, no! Let me think; it's better that Lina alone should knowit. "

The old man arose--tottered towards the bell, and rang it, nervelessly, as if the silver knob were a hand he loathed to touch. 

Agnes answered the summons, but even her self-possession gave way as shesaw the General's face, pale and almost convulsed, turned upon her. 

"I have ordered the carriage--it will be at the door in a few moments, sir, " she stammered forth. 

"Send it back to the stables: I shall not go out. The morning hasclouded over. "

Agnes glanced at the sunshine pouring its silvery warmth through thelibrary window, but she did not venture to speak. 

"Go, " said General Harrington, in a suppressed voice, "go find yourpupil, and say that I wish to speak with her a moment. "

"Miss Lina--is it Miss Lina I am to call?" stammered Agnes, taken bysurprise. 

"It is Miss Lina that I wish to see; have the goodness to call her. "

The courteous but peremptory voice in which this was said, left Agnes noexcuse for delay; and, though racked with curiosity, she was obliged todepart on her errand. 

The General sat down the moment he was alone--and shrouding hisforehead, lost himself in painful thought. 

The door opened, and Lina came in, smiling like a sunbeam, and rosy withassured happiness. "Did you send for me, General?" she said, drawingclose the chair in which the old man sat. "Is there something I can dothat will give you pleasure. I hope so!"

The General looked up; his eyes were heavy--his face bore an expressionshe had never witnessed in it till then. He looked on her a moment, andshe saw the mist melting away from his glance, and it seemed to her thathis proud lip began to quiver. 

"Have I offended you?" inquired Lina, with gentle regret. "What have Idone?"

The old man arose, and laying a hand on each of her shoulders, boreheavily upon her, as he perused her face with an earnestness that madeher tremble. He lifted one hand at last, and sweeping the heavy curlsback from her brow, gazed sadly and earnestly down into her eyes. Thosesoft blue eyes, that filled with tears beneath the sad pathos of hisgaze. 

"Lina!" His hand began to tremble among her curls. He bent his foreheaddown, and rested it on her shoulders sighing heavily. 

"Tell me--do tell me what I have done, " said the gentle girl, weeping;"or, is it Ralph? Oh, sir, he cannot have intended to wound you!"

"Ralph!" exclaimed the General, starting up, with a flush of the brow. "Do not speak of him; never let me hear his name on your lips again!"

"What? Ralph--never speak of Ralph? You do not mean it. Indeed, I amquite sure, you do not mean it. Not speak of Ralph? Dear General, if hehas done anything wrong, let me run for him at once, and he will begyour pardon--oh, how willingly! Not speak of Ralph? Ah, you are teasingme, General, because you know--that is, you guess--it would break myheart not to think of him every minute of my life. "

"Silence, girl; I must not hear this, " said the old man, dashing hishand aside with a violence that scattered Lina's hair all over hershoulders. 

"General, " said Lina, lifting up her eyes, all brimming with tears, andregarding him with the look of a grieved cherub: "don't terrify me so. What have I done? What has Ralph done? For the whole world we would notdisplease you, after all your kindness. Indeed, indeed we are too happyfor anything evil to come within our thoughts. "

"And you are happy, girl?"

"Very, very happy. It seems to me that all the earth has blossomedafresh. I thought this morning, that the sunshine never was so bright asit is to-day, and what few leaves are left on the branches, seem morebeautiful than roses in full flower. Dear, dear General, it is somethingto have made two young creatures so happy! I thought last night, forlife seemed so sweet that I could not waste it in slumber--and when themoonbeams came stealing in around me, making the curtains luminous, likesummer clouds--I thought that you must have such heavenly dreams andgrateful prayers to God, for giving you power--so like his own--that offilling young souls with this beautiful, beautiful joy!"

"Ah!" said the General, with a deep sigh; "all this must change, my poorchild. I thought yours was but a pretty love-dream, that would pass overin a week. "

"Oh, do not say that--do not say your consent was not real--that youhave trilled with two young creatures, who honestly left their heartsall helpless in your hands. "

"Peace, peace, " said the old man, standing upright, and speaking with aneffort. "I have not trifled with you. I did hope that all this mightpass off as such love-dreams usually do; but, I have promised nothingwhich should not have been accomplished, had not a destiny stronger thanmy will, or your love, intervened. Lina, you can never be married to myson!"

Lina looked in his face--it was pale and troubled; his eyes fell beneaththe intensity of her gaze--his proud shoulders stooped--he did not seemso tall as he was, by some inches. The deathly white of her face, theviolet lips parted and speechless, the wild agony of those eyes, madehim tremble from head to foot. 

"Why? oh, why!" at last broke from her lips. 

"Because, " said the old man, drawing himself up, and speaking with ahoarse effort; "because, God forgive me, you are my own daughter!"

She was looking in his face. A sob broke upon her pale lips--thestrength left her limbs--and she fell down before him, shrouding heragony with both hands. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 

General Harrington had no power to comfort the poor creature at hisfeet. More deeply moved than he had been for years, the strangeness ofhis own feelings paralyzed his action. But the hand to which Lina clunggrew cold in her grasp, and over his face stole an expression ofsadness, the more touching because so foreign to its usual apathy. 

"Father--oh, my heart breaks with the word--are you indeed my father?"cried Lina, lifting her pale face upward and sweeping her hair back witha desperate motion of the hand. 

"Poor child--poor child!" muttered the old man compassionately. 

"What can I do? what shall I do? It will kill me! It will kill us both. Oh, Ralph, Ralph, if I had but died yesterday!" cried the poor girl, attempting to rise, but falling back again with a fresh burst of grief. 

The old man stood gazing to harden his heart--striving to compose theunusual tremor of his nerves, but all in vain. Sorrow, regret, andsomething almost like remorse smote him to the soul, for he had oncebeen a man of strong passions, and the ice of his selfishness againbroken up, the turbid waters rose and swelled in his bosom, with a powerthat all the force of habit could not resist. He bent down and liftedthe girl from his feet, trembling slightly, and with a touch of pity inhis voice. 

"It is useless and foolish to take any misfortune in this manner, child. "

"Child!" Lina shuddered at the word. She shrunk away from his hand, arose without his help, and staggered backward with a feeling ofunutterable repulsion. 

He saw the quiver of pain in her features, and his soul hardened oncemore. She had not met the feeling of tenderness, so new, and, for themoment, so exquisite to himself, and it withered away like a hot-houseblossom. 

"This is a new and strange relation to us both, " he said, seatinghimself, and regarding her gravely. "Of course it involves manyimportant and painful questions. Up to this day you have been to Mrs. Harrington and myself a daughter in everything but the name!"

Lina wrung her hands, wildly moaning: "That name! Oh, heavens! how can Ibear that name unless he should have given it to me. Now, now--just asit sounded so sweet, it separates us for ever. This unholy name ofchild!"

General Harrington moved in his chair with a gesture of annoyance, butLina, growing still more impassioned, came toward him, wringing hersmall hands impetuously. 

"You are my father--God forgive you! But there is yet another to curseor bless me with her claims--where and whom is my mother? Is Mrs. Harrington indeed the parent she has always seemed to me?"

The General waved his hand with a dissenting gesture. 

"Do not question me upon a subject that must be painful to us both. Thisis no time to answer you. "

"No time, when you uproot every hope of my life and present a futureblack with improbable things? Up to this day, that dear lady was enough. I had no desire to ask about father or mother. They told me I was anorphan's destiny, and overlooked by all the world, if the dear onesunder this roof only loved me. I had no other place on earth, and now, what am I?--an impostor, cast upon the charity of the dear lady my birthhas wronged. "

General Harrington arose, and advancing toward Lina, took her hands inhis. The poor little hands quivered like wounded birds in his clasp, andshe lifted her eyes with a piteous and pleading look that no humanheart could have withstood. 

"Ah! you are trying me? It isn't true?" she said, with a gleam of hopeand hysterical sobs. 

"No! it is all real, far too real, Lina! Do not deceive yourself. Iwould not wound you thus for an aimless experiment. You are indeed mychild!"

"Your child, really--really your own child? Oh, I cannot understand it!Ralph--my brother, Ralph!"

Lina started as if some new pang had struck her, and then drew away herhands with a gesture of passionate grief. 

"Ralph, my own brother, and older than I am, for he is older--oh, thisis terrible. "

"You will see, " said General Harrington, speaking in a composed voice, that seemed like a mockery of her passionate accents--"you will see bythis how necessary it is that what I have told you should be kept secretfrom my wife and child. Your peculiar relations with my son rendered itimperative. I have intrusted you with a secret of terrible importance. You can imagine what the consequences would be, were your relationshipto myself made known. "

"I will not tell. Oh! thank God, I need not tell!" cried Lina wildly;"but then, Ralph?--what will he think--how will he act? Ralph, Ralph--mybrother! Oh, if I had but died on the threshold of this room!"

"Be comforted, " said the General, in his usual bland voice, for thescene had begun to weary him. "You will soon get used to the newposition of things. "

"But who will explain to Ralph? What can I say? how can I act? He willnot know. "

"Ralph is a very young man. He will go into the world, and see more ofsociety. This is his first fancy--I will take care that he is moreoccupied. The world is full of beautiful women. "

Lina turned deadly pale. The cruel speech struck her to the soul. 

The old man saw it, but worldly philosophy made him ruthless. "I willcrush the boy out of her heart, " he said, inly, "to be rude here is tobe merciful. "

"You must forget Ralph, " he said, and his voice partook of the hardnessof his thoughts. 

"I cannot forget, " answered the girl, with a faint moan, "but I willstrive to remember that--that he is my brother!"

The last words came to her lips almost in a cry. She shuddered all over, and the name of brother broke from her with a pang, as if herheart-strings snapped with the utterance. 

"Can I go away?" she said, at last, creeping like a wounded fawn slowlyto the door. 

"Not yet, " answered the old man. "You must first comprehend the greatnecessity there is for composure and silence. Not a word of this must bebreathed under my roof now or ever. My own tranquillity and that of Mrs. Harrington are at stake, to say nothing of your own. I have told you amomentous secret. Let it be sacred. "

"Oh! the terrible burden of this secret! Must I carry it for ever? Evennow I go out from your presence like a guilty thing, and yet I am notguilty. "

"No one was talking of guilt, I imagine, " answered the General, with aslight flush of the forehead. "The whole thing is certainly anannoyance, and in one sense, a misfortune, perhaps. But guilt is anunfeminine word, and I regret that you could have used it. "

Lina wrung her hands in desperation. 

"I could not help it. This misery has found me so unprepared. "

"Misery! Indeed, young lady, it seems to me that few women wouldconsider it so great an evil to have the blood of a Harrington in herveins, " said the General, stung in the inner depths of his vanity by herwords, and losing all pity in his wounded self-love. 

"But I am a Harrington without a name--a daughter without parent--abeggar upon the charity of one to whom my existence is an insult! Wouldyou have me grateful for this?" cried Lina, with all the grief and fireof her young nature in arms against the cold-blooded composure of theman who so quietly called her child. 

"I would have you prudent, silent, and at all events, more lady-like inyour expressions; with well-bred people, a scene is always revolting, and it pains me that a daughter of mine can be led into the intemperanceof action and speech that has marked this interview. "

The General glanced with a look of cool criticism at the excited girl ashe spoke. Her pale, tearful face, the dishevelled masses of hair fallingupon her shoulders, and the almost crouching attitude that a suddensense of shame had left her in, outraged his fastidious taste, and theold habits of a life swept over his new-born tenderness. Feeling, if notelegantly expressed, always shocked the old gentleman, and for themoment, shame and tears had swept Lina's beauty all away. She might havebeen picturesque to an artist, but General Harrington was not anartist--only a fastidious, selfish old man, whose eyes always led whatlittle of heart he possessed. 

"Can I go, sir? I am faint--the room is growing dark. I wish, sir, I--I"----

The poor girl attempted to move toward the door, as she uttered thisbroken protestation; but the sight utterly left her eyes--and, insteadof the entrance, she tottered toward the General, with her handsextended as if to catch at some support, and fell forward, resting herpoor white face upon the folds of his Oriental dressing gown that fellaround his feet. 

"This is very embarrassing, " muttered the General, jerking the gorgeousfolds of his gown from beneath the head of his child, and scattering herhair, in a thousand glossy tresses, over the floor. "What is to be donenow? I suppose the religious people would call this sowing dragon'steeth with a vengeance. I wish the girl had more coolness; there is nomanaging events against weak nerves and hysterics--but she must besoothed; at this rate, we shall have the whole house in commotion. Lina, my child, make an effort to be calm. Look up, I am not angry with you!"

The old man was so encased and wrapped in self-love, that he reallybelieved his own severe words had alone dashed the strength from thoseyoung limbs, and that a little gentle encouragement would make all rightagain. So, stooping downward, he laid his soft, white hand, upon Lina'shead, as the last words were uttered; and, when this failed, made aneffort to lift her from the floor. But the leaden weight of utterinsensibility rendered more effort necessary, and, at last reallyfrightened, he arose and lifted the insensible girl in his arms. 

That moment, as her pale face lay upon his bosom, and her loosened hairfell in floods over his arm, the door softly opened, and Agnes Barkerlooked in. 

"Did you ring, General? I heard a bell ring somewhere. "

"No, I did not ring, young lady, " answered General Harrington, sharply, "but this young lady has been over-fatigued someway, or was takensuddenly ill as I was speaking of her studies. "

A faint smile crept over Agnes' lips, but she checked it in an instant, and moved forward with an air of gentle interest. 

"She has studied very hard of late, no wonder her strength gave way, "suggested Agnes, softly smoothing the hair back from Lina's forehead. 

There seemed to be fascination in the movement of those treacherousfingers, for they had scarcely touched her brow, when Lina started tolife with a shudder, as if the rattlesnake of the hill had sprung uponher unawares. 

Casting one wild look upon the female, and another upon the General, shedrew from his arm, with a sensation of loathing that made her faintagain. 

"Let me go to my room--I must be alone!" she said, with a hand pressedupon either temple. "The air of this place drives me frantic: soclose--so dreary--so--so"----

She moved away wavering in her walk, but making feeble motions with herhand, as if to repel all assistance. Thus faint, pale, and almostbroken-hearted, the poor girl stole away, to weep over her new-bornshame. 

"She seems very ill, " said Agnes, softly, "very ill!"

"You have allowed her studies to prey upon her health, " said GeneralHarrington, seating himself and fixing his cold, clear eyes on the faceof his questioner. "I must hereafter more directly superintend hereducation in person. You will have the goodness to inform Mrs. Harrington of this sudden indisposition. "

Agnes changed color. The self-poise of this old man of the world, baffled even her eager curiosity. She had expected that he would desireher to keep the whole scene secret; and when he quietly told her toreveal it to his wife, and took a resenting tone, as if she had herselfbeen the person in fault, her astonishment was extreme. The General sawhis advantage, and improved upon it. After softly folding the skirts ofhis dressing-gown over his knees, and smoothing the silk with his palm, he took up a volume from the table, and adjusted the gold glasses to hiseyes with more than usual deliberation. Agnes looked at him steadily, baffled, but not deceived, till his thoughts seemed completely buried inthe volume. As she gazed, the evil of her half-smothered passion brokeout in her glance; and, as the General languidly raised his eyes fromthe book, they met hers. 

"Is there anything you wait for?" he inquired, meeting that fierce gazewith his cold eyes. "Ah, I had forgotten, my people may drive thecarriage round--please say as much. "

Agnes left the room, biting her lips till they glowed again, and withher hand clenched in impatient fury. As she closed the door, GeneralHarrington laid down his book with an impatient gesture. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

BROTHER AND SISTER. 

Lina could not rest. She went to her room, but it seemed so changed, sounlike her old home, that a terror, that was almost insanity, fell uponher. The rich blue curtains, to her excited mind, looked sombre againsttheir underwaves of frost-like lace, and her bed, with its snowy canopy, now overclouded with damask, had a deadly whiteness about it, that madeher shrink within herself, as if some leprosy had fallen upon her, whichforbade her ever again to approach a thing so pure. 

Lina crept into this room sad and disheartened; looking wearily around, she cowered down on the carpet in the farthest corner, and sat watchingthe door, as if she expected some enemy to come in and drive her forth. At the least sound in the hall she would start and shrink back with amoan upon her white lips, but she shed no tears, and her look was ratherone of affright than of the intense grief which had overpowered herwhile in the presence of General Harrington. 

At that moment there was a hurried tread upon the staircase. Every pulsein Lina's heart throbbed wildly, and she sat leaning eagerly forwardwith a half-expectant, half-frightened air, as the steps paused beforeher door. A low, quick knock caused her to start from the floor. Shelooked wildly round, as if seeking some means of escape, then sunkagainst the wall, while her whole frame trembled with agitation. Theknock was repeated, and she covered her face with her hands, uttering alow, shuddering moan. A third time that impatient summons shook her formas with a convulsion, and when a voice, whose lightest tone possessedthe power to move her inmost soul, reached her ear in an eager whisper, she rose again and stood upright, transfixed by that voice, which hadnever before met her ear without filling her whole being with gentlepleasure. 

"Lina--Lina--are you there?"

It was Ralph who spoke. Lina gasped for breath and wrung her handsdesperately, like one who entreats for mercy, and feels that it is allin vain. 

"Lina, answer me--are you there?"

"I am here, " she replied, in a low, unnatural tone. 

"Open the door, Lina--I want to speak to you. "

"Ralph, I cannot!"

"Cannot! What ails you, Lina? _Do_ open the door. Let me speak to youfor a moment. "

She staggered feebly to the door, then with a quick motion, the hurriedresolve of which was strangely at variance with her previous hesitation, flung it open, and stood before the young man. 

"Why, Lina, have you forgotten your promise?" he began eagerly; then, checked himself, as he raised his eyes to her face, and marked thewildness of her glance, and ghastly pallor of her cheek. "Lina, what isthe matter? Are you ill? Tell me, Lina, what ails you?" He took herhands in his, with a manner in which the impetuosity of a youthfullover, and the kind, protecting air of a brother, were strangelymingled. 

"Answer me, Lina, my own Lina. "

But Lina had no words; when her eyes met his, the tears which during herlonely vigil had refused to flow, burst forth, and she buried her headin her hands, sobbing like a frightened child. Ralph folded his armsabout her, and drew her back into the chamber, gathering her closely tohis heart, as if to reassure her by his protecting presence. He did notquestion her again for several moments, but forcing her head gently downon his shoulder, he strove to soothe her with whispered words, until shegathered strength to check her tears, and drew herself from him, striving all the time to appear more composed. 

"Now tell me, Lina, what does this mean?"

She shook her head sadly, murmuring:

"Nothing, Ralph, nothing. "

"Do not trifle with me, Lina. Something must have occurred to cause thisagitation. Can you not trust me?"

"There is nothing the matter! I was ill, and--and cried without knowingwhy. "

"You cannot deceive me with an excuse like that. Has any one hurt yourfeelings! _do_ tell me what has happened. "

But Lina only shook her head, and choked back the despair which rose toher lips. He would have taken her in his arms again, but the movementand the touch of his hand roused her to the fearful consciousness thatshe had no longer a right to seek consolation in his companionship. Shebroke away, terrified and oppressed, with a feeling of guilt at hermomentary forgetfulness. 

"Leave me, Ralph, I wish--I need to be alone. "

"You wish--you _need_ to be alone! This is very strange, Lina! Will yougive me no explanation? Have I offended you--tell me what I can havedone? You know that I would rather die ten thousand deaths than causeyou a moment's pain. "

"Do not speak so, Ralph; do not torture me by such fears. You have neverwounded me by word or look--you have always been kind and generous. "

"Thank you! thank you! Then tell me what pains you! Darling, darling, you cannot know how I suffer to see you in this state. I must have anexplanation. Lina, you have no right to refuse it. "

"I can give none! Ralph, leave me, I must be alone. Another time I maybe able to converse, but now"--she broke off abruptly, wringing herhands in impotent despair, while the great tears fell over them, likethe last heavy drops of a spent shower. "Leave me, Ralph, leave me!" sheexclaimed, with a gesture of insane agony. 

"I cannot understand this! Can this be Lina--my own dear little Lina, always so confiding and truthful? Since my earliest recollection haveyou not known my every thought and wish--been as familiar with my heartas you were with your own? This is the first time that the slightestshadow has fallen upon your mind against me, yet there you stand, separated from me by some fearful sorrow, to which I can obtain noclue. "

"Do not speak so, Ralph! I repeat that nothing troubles me much! Willyou not believe me?"

"I never doubted your word before, Lina; but now--forgive me--I feelthat you are concealing something terrible from me. When I left you, this morning, you promised to walk with me, and I hurried here themoment I was free, longing to take a ramble over the hills--will you notgo?"

"Not to-day. I cannot--I am ill. "

"Do not seek to excuse yourself! Say at once that you do not choose togo. "

"You misunderstand me, Ralph, indeed you do. "

"Forgive me, Lina; I am so maddened by the sight of your tears, that Iscarcely know what I am saying. Only confide in me--can you not trustme, your lover, your betrothed?"

"God help me!" broke from Lina's white lips, but the exclamation wasunheeded by the young man in his agitation. 

"Have you a desire to hide anything from me--can you love, when yourefuse to trust me. "

"Ralph, leave me! If you have any mercy, go away, and let me be alone. "In her frenzy she threw up her arms with a gesture which seemed to himalmost one of repulsion. He looked at her for a moment, his heartbursting with the first revelation of its woe, then muttering--

"Lina, has it come to this?" he sprang from the room, and the sound ofhis flying footsteps on the stair recalled her to a consciousness ofwhat had befallen her. 

She strove to utter his name, but it died husky and low in her parchedthroat. She must fly--anywhere to be out in the air, for the atmosphereof that close chamber seemed stifling her. She caught up a shawl whichlay on a table, and rushed from the room and from the house. A suddenthought, which seemed instinct rather than reason, had made her startthus madly away to search for old Ben, the honest protector of herchildhood, hoping that from him she could gather some explanation of thesecret that seemed crushing the life from her frame. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE SLAVE AND HER MASTER. 

The carriage which conveyed General Harrington, went at a rapid speed, till it entered the city. The General seemed unconscious of his unusualprogress, and was lost in what seemed a disagreeable reverie, till heawoke amid a crash of omnibuses, and a whirl of carriages in Broadway. Here he checked the driver, and leaving the carriage, bade him proceedto the club, and await his return there. He paused upon the side-walk, till the man was out of sight, then turning into a cross street, hewalked rapidly forward into a neighborhood that he had seldom, if ever, visited before. 

The dwelling he sought, proved to be a common brick house, without anypeculiar feature to distinguish it from some twenty others, whichcompleted a block, that stood close upon the street, and had a dusty, worn appearance, without a picturesque feature to attract attention. 

General Harrington advanced up the steps, after a little disgustfulhesitation, and rang the bell. The door was promptly opened, and anordinary maid-servant stood in the entrance. The General inquired forsome person in a low voice, and the girl made room for him to pass, witha nod of the head. 

The hall was dark and gloomy, lighted only by narrow sashes each side ofthe door, and the whole building so far, presented nothing calculated toremove the distaste with which the fastidious old man had entered it. 

The servant opened a door with some caution, closed it behind her, andafter a little delay, returned, motioning with her hand that GeneralHarrington should enter the room she had just left. 

With this rather singular summons the woman disappeared, and GeneralHarrington entered the door she had pointed out. It was a large room, lighted after the usual fashion in front, and with a deep long window inthe lower end. This magnificent window occupied the entire end of theroom, save where the corners were rendered convex by two immensemirrors, which formed a beautiful finish to the rich mouldings of thecasement, and curved gracefully back to the wall, making that end ofthe apartment almost semicircular. 

Hangings of pale, straw-colored silk, brocaded with clusters of flowers, in which blue and pink predominated, gave a superb effect to the walls, and from the ceilings, a half-dozen cupids, beautifully painted infresco, seemed showering roses upon the visitor, as he passed under. Thecarpet was composed of a vast medallion pattern upon a white ground, scattered over with bouquets a little more defined and gorgeous thanthose upon the walls, as if the blossoms had grown smaller and moredelicate as they crept upward toward the exquisite ceiling. The frontwindows were entirely muffled by draperies of rich orange damask, linedwith white, and with a silvery sheen running through the pattern, whilecurtains of the same warm material, fell on each side the bay window, giving it the appearance of a tent, open, and yet, to a certain degree, secluded, for a fall of lace swept from the cornice, hanging like a veilof woven frost-work before the glass, rendering every thing beyondindistinct, but dreamily beautiful. 

General Harrington was surprised by the air of almost orientalmagnificence which pervaded this apartment. 

This room was not only in powerful contrast with the exterior of thedwelling, but it possessed an air of tropical splendor that would havesurprised the General in any place. Divans, such as are seldom found outof an eastern palace, but slightly raised from the floor, and surmountedwith cushions heavily embroidered with gold, ran more than half aroundit. A few pictures, gorgeous and showy, but of little value, hung uponthe walls; and there was some display of statuary, equally deficient inideal beauty. 

The light which fell upon General Harrington, was soft and dreamy imbuedwith a faint tinge of greenish gold, like that which the sunshine leaveswhen it penetrates the foliage of a hemlock grove in spring. For the baywindow opened into a broad balcony, open in summer, but sheeted in fromthe front by sashes, so arranged that the glass seemed to rolldownwards, in waves of crystal, to the floor. This unique conservatorywas crowded with the rarest plants, in full blossom, that swept theirperfume in through the open window, penetrated the floating lace, andfilled that end of the apartment with the glow of their bloomingclusters. 

The singular beauty of this scene--the quiet so profound, broken only bythe bell-like dropping of a fountain--and the twitter of birds, hung ingilded cages, among the blossoms, had an overpowering charm even to aman so _blasé_ as the General. He paused in astonishment, looking aroundwith pleasant interest--for an instant, forgetful of the person he wasseeking. But, to a man so accustomed to magnificence, this forgetfulnesswas but momentary, and with a quiet and almost derisive smile, hemuttered:

"Upon my life, the creature is either witch or fairy, if this is reallyher home!"

He was interrupted by a sound, as of one moving upon a cushioned seat. 

The light was so dim at the upper end of the room, that GeneralHarrington had supposed himself alone, till the rustle of silk drew hisattention to a lady rising from the divan, who came toward him with asweeping motion, like some tropical bird disturbed in its nest. 

The General paused, and stood gazing upon her as she advanced, irresolute and uncertain; for the whole place was so different toanything he had expected to find, that for a moment he was bewildered. 

The lady advanced into the light, calmly and proudly, and with a gleamin her eyes, as if she enjoyed his astonishment. Her dress was of purplesilk, wrought with clusters of gold-tinted flowers, that scintillatedand gleamed as she moved out of the shadows; her raven hair, arrangedin heavy bandeaux on each side her face, was surmounted by a cashmerescarf of pale green, which was carelessly knotted on one side of herhead, and fell in a mass of fringe and embroidery on her left shoulder. The flowing waves of her robe swept the carpet as she moved, and theundulations of her magnificent person, were like the movements of aleopard in its native forest. There was neither fairness nor youth inher person, and yet the large, oriental eyes, so velvety and black, hada power of beauty in them, that any man must have acknowledged; andthere was a creamy softness of complexion, a peach-like bloom of thecheek, dusky but glowing--that harmonized With the gorgeous richness ofher dress and surroundings. The woman stood before her visitor, herproud figure stooping slightly forward, and her eyes downcast, waitingfor him to speak. 

The General gazed on her a moment in silence, but a quiet smile ofrecognition stole to his lips; and, with an air, half-patronizing, half-pleased, he at last held out his hand. 

"Zillah!"

The woman's hand trembled as she touched his; her head was uplifted foran instant, and an exulting glance shot from those strange eyes, brightas scintillations from a diamond. 

"I was afraid you would not come, " she said, gently. 

"Why, Zillah?"

"Because men do not often like to meet those who remind them of brokenties. "

The General slightly waved his hand with a half dissenting gesture, anda gratified expression stole over his countenance, answered by a suddengleam in that strange woman's eyes; for she read in that very look anintimation that her former power was not wholly extinguished. 

"How comes it that you are here, Zillah?" he asked, glancing around theroom. "This is a singular place to find you in. "

"You are astonished to see me here? as if I were a slave yet. Was itstrange that I, a free woman, longed to leave the places which remindedme of the past, to see and learn something of the world? But, there wasanother and more important reason--had I not a child and a mother'sheart longing to behold her offspring?"

"Zillah, tell me truly, is this thing real? is the girl we call LinaFrench your child?"

"Have I not said it, " replied the woman, regarding him stealthily fromunder her half-closed lashes. "Why should I attempt to deceive you? itwould gain me nothing. "

"That is true; but how did it happen that you abandoned her?"

The woman lifted her face, with a sudden flush of the forehead--

"You sold me, made me another man's slave: me, me!" She paused, with astruggle, as if some suppressed passion choked her; but directly herself-possession returned; the flush died from her face, and she droopedinto her former attitude, looking downward as before. "But that I alwayswas--a slave, and the daughter of a slave. Your child, though unknownand unacknowledged, better that it died than lived my life over again, cursed with the proud Anglo-Saxon blood, debased by the African taint, that, if it exists but in the slightest degree, poisons all the rest. "

"Zillah, you speak bitterly. Was it my fault that you were born a slaveon the plantation of my friend; that your complexion was fair, and yourbeauty so remarkable, that few men could have detected the shadows onyour forehead. Surely, you had no cause to complain of too much hardshipas my servant?"

For an instant, the haughty lip of the woman writhed like a serpent inits venom, struggling to keep back the bitter words that burned uponthem. Then her face settled into comparative calm again, and she said, in a tone of gentle reproach, "But you sold me!"

"I was compelled to it, Zillah. It was impossible to keep you on theplantation. James Harrington became your owner on the death of hismother, and you know how terribly he was prejudiced against you. It wasthe only command that he made; everything else he left to me; but here, here he was imperative. All that a kind and obliging master could do, Iaccomplished in spite of him. You had your own choice of masters, Zillah; that, at least, I secured to you. "

"A choice of masters!" repeated the woman, turning pale with intensefeeling. "What did I care about a choice of masters, when you sold me?Had you given me to the grave, it would have been Heaven to the yearsthat followed. You sold me without warning--coldly sent an order to theagent, and I was taken away. Your own child was the slave of anotherman. "

"But you kept me in ignorance, Zillah; besides, I had been marriedagain. A northern man, I was, of course, desirous to live in the North. What could I do?"

"But the other slaves were set free. Master James provided means forthose who wished it, to emigrate to Liberia; a few went, more remainedof choice. No servant was kept on the estate who did not desire it. Ialone was sold. "

"But you know how the young man detested you; he never could bepersuaded that your presence in her sick room, had not an evil influenceon his mother. In short Zillah, after her death he seemed to think oflittle else. "

The woman turned deadly pale, as the sick room of her old mistress wasmentioned. A shudder ran through her frame, and she sat down upon aneighboring divan, gasping for breath. General Harrington watched thisstrange emotion with keen interest; he did not comprehend its source, but it brought up vague suspicions that had in former years passed likeshadows across his brain, when the sickness and death of his first wifewas a recent event. 

"Zillah, " he said, seating himself on the divan by her side, "you turnpale--you shiver--what does this mean?"

The woman sat up, forcing herself to look into his questioning eyes. 

"I was surprised at your blindness, shocked at the duplicity of thisman, James Harrington. So he excuses his hatred of me by this pretence, and you believe him. I will speak now--why should I be silent longer?Listen to me, General Harrington. It was because I knew his secret, thatJames Harrington hated me. He loved the woman you have married, forwhose tranquillity I was sold to a new master. "

"Very possible, " replied the General, with a complacent smile. "I shouldhave been sorry to give my name to any woman whom a man of taste couldknow, without loving. Of course, the young gentleman, like many others, was dying of envy when that remarkable woman became my wife. "

Zillah's eyes flashed, and she turned pale, lip and forehead. A bitterlaugh broke away with the words, as she said, "But she loved _him_--adored him, rather. "

The General was moved now, his self-love was all up in arms; he wasevidently getting furious. 

"Zillah, this is one of your jealous dreams. You have no proof!"

"Master--let me call you so once more--among other benefits which cameto me through your kindness, I was taught to read and write--that was akey to much else that I learned afterwards. In a vellum covered book, which Miss Mabel always kept locked with a little golden heart, I sawmore than proof of what I say. She lost the key from her watch-chain, one night, and I found it. The book is probably destroyed now, but if itexisted, I should need no other proof of what I know to be true!"

"Indeed, " said the General, prolonging the word, thoughtfully, "Indeed!"

"Are you going?" exclaimed the woman, as he arose from the divan. 

"Yes, Zillah, I have left some important papers in my library that maybe disturbed. In a few days I will see you again. "

Zillah smiled a soft, exulting smile, but she did not allow it tobrighten her whole face till General Harrington had left the room. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE BOAT-HOUSE. 

Down upon the shore, so built as to form a picturesque feature in thelandscape, stood an old boat-house, in which Ben Benson made his homewhen out of active service at the Mansion. Here the stout old seamankept his fishing-tackle, his rifle, and a thousand miscellaneous thingsthat appertained to his various avocations, for Ben was not only anaturalist and philosopher at large, but a mechanic of no ordinaryskill. He not only devised his own fishing-flies, wove his ownshad-nets, and game-baskets, but performed the duties of aship-carpenter whenever his boats got out of order, or a new one waswanted for the river. 

On the day of Lina's great sorrow, Ben was standing in front of theboat-house, superintending a kettle of pitch that was boiling over afire of dried logs and bark. The boat which had been almost torn topieces on the night when Mabel Harrington so narrowly escaped a terribledeath, was now turned upside down, and Ben was preparing to calk thebottom and repair the injuries it had received. 

Lina saw him as she came down the avenue, and her pace quickened. Thethin shawl she had flung about her was fluttering in the wind, but therewas a fever in heart and brain, which rendered her insensible to theblast which swept the curls back from her burning forehead, and rustledthrough her light garments. The little Italian grey-hound, which hadbeen for months her special pet, had followed her, unperceived, strivingin vain to win some sign of attention from the distracted girl. 

Lina flew down the bank, and Ben looked up as the sound of her footstepswarned him who it was that approached. 

"I knowed that it was you, Miss Lina, " he said, while every feature inhis rough face softened, as he looked toward her. "Sakes alive! whatbrought ye out here such a day as this--this wind is enough to snap youright in two. "

"I don't mind the cold, Ben; I wanted to talk to you. "

"Wal, if there's any one thing Ben Benson kin do for you, you've onlyjest to mention it, and consider it done a'ready. "

"I know it, Ben, and that is why I come. I wanted to ask you something. "

"Why, you're shakin' worse nor a poplar leaf, and you're as white as ifyou hadn't a drop of blood in your precious little body. What on arth'sthe matter with you, Lina? See that ere dog; now, ain't he a prettyspecimen of an animal exotic to be out of a hot house in such a wind asthis. "

Ben gathered the shivering little creature to his bosom with one hand, snugly enveloping him in the capacious folds of his pilot jacket, whilewith the other he seized Lina's hands, and leaning back against theboat, stood looking at her with a half-pitying, half-affectionateglance, that was indescribably comic and touching. 

"I should like to know what Mister Ralph was a-thinkin' on, to let youcome out alone sich a day as this. "

That name made Lina shudder, and a sudden spasm contracted her features. 

"No one knew that I was coming out. Oh, Ben! I want to ask something--donot refuse to tell me, or I shall die! How came I here--where was Iborn--oh, who am I, Ben?"

"Sakes alive! How she goes on! One question at a time, if _you_ please, Miss Lina! What on arth's been putting sich ideas into your little head?Now no circumwenting--speak the truth, if you be a woman. "

"Oh, Ben, I have always wondered and longed to know something aboutmyself, and of late, this desire has increased. I can think of nothingelse. Do not put me off--I shall die if I am kept longer in thissuspense. "

Ben began to hug the pretty dog more and more tenderly to his bosom, asif it was that which needed comforting, and not the poor girl beforehim. At last, turning himself uneasily about, like a man disturbed by asudden recurrence of painful memories. 

"Now, don't go to gettin' oneasy idees into your little head; there'snothin' wuss for the femenine constitution. When you're well enough, letyerself alone, and be satisfied. "

"Oh, Ben, don't--don't! You are my friend--you have always been kind tome; do not turn from me, now, when I am tortured by these strangedoubts. There is no one else of whom I can ask an explanation, and youcannot refuse it! I am so very, very, unhappy, Ben--dear, good Ben!"

"There, there, Miss Lina!" Ben muttered, hoarsely, patting her hand withhis hard palm; then, clasping it again in his huge fingers, and lookingat it earnestly, as if it had been a delicately wrought sea-shell. "Don't say no more--now don't--when Ben Benson gives advice, 'taintwithout a reason. Now, you just listen to me, and then run away, anddon't get no more tantrums in that little head o' yours. Hain't themadam, Mrs. Harrington, always been like a mother to you--hain't shetreated you as if you had been her own flesh and blood--do you want tomake her unhappy now, little gal, do you worry her about such things?"

"You know I would rather die, Ben!"

"I do believe you would, Miss Lina, I raly do! But there ain't noquestion about dyin'--you've only to be patient and good, as is nat'ralto you--take things as they come, and that's enough. I ain't a goin' tohave you ask me no questions, and I know you won't do it. "

"But, Ben. "

"Hush!" said Ben, pressing her hands hard between his broad palms, anddropping them tenderly downward. "I can't listen to another word of this'ere. It ain't of no use, " and with a gesture of stubborn sorrow, Benwalked deliberately into his domain, and closing the door, bolted itagainst Lina, leaving her shivering in the cold. 

Lina looked ruefully at the closed door, and her heart sunk as she heardthe heavy bolt drawn within. The last faint hope died out then; and, without a word, she turned and walked away into the woods, desolatebeyond comparison with any former moment of her life. The wind grewsharp, and whistled through the light indoor garments with which she hadrecklessly come forth; her lips turned purple with cold; her hands wereso numb, that they fell apart as she attempted to clasp them; the tearsrushed warm from her eyes, and dropped away, frozen, like hail: and yetpoor Lina struggled on, thinking the cold only another pang of anguish, which it was her duty to bear. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

GENERAL HARRINGTON READS THE VELLUM BOOK. 

General Harrington was alone in his library. His hat and cloak lay in aheap on a sofa near the door, an indication of unwonted perturbation, for with him, a misplaced article was a proof of excitement which he wasalways ready to condemn. His dress was a good deal disturbed, and hishair disordered, as if he had threaded it more than once with the whitefingers that now clasped the open covers of Mabel's Journal which he waseagerly reading. 

It was almost painful to see the excitement under which that old manlabored. The book trembled in his grasp, his lips clung more and morefirmly together, his blue eyes shone vividly from under his bent brows, yet from beneath all, there stole out a gleam of triumph, as if he wereweaving some crafty web of underthought out from the angry tumult withwhich his soul labored. There was no sorrow in his look, no feeling ofsadness or regret for the greatest loss man ever experienced, that of agood woman's love. With him vanity was the grand passion. Touch that andhe became sensitive as a boy of fifteen. In all things else he wasinvulnerable. 

And yet Mabel's Journal might have touched deeper feelings than herhusband was capable of knowing. Another man would have been roused tocompassion by the fragments of thought, sometimes artless, sometimespassionate, that seemed to have dropped fresh from her heart upon thepages he was reading. 

He opened the vellum book at the beginning, for with all his impatience, the methodical habits of his life prevailed even then, and at first, there was little to excite more than a strong curiosity. But as he readon, the perturbation we have described in his countenance, becameevident. He turned over the leaves violently, glancing here and there, as if eager to devour his mortification at a single dash. The cleftheart, whose breaking had given him access to poor Mabel's secrets, struck against his hand as he closed the book, and opened it again atrandom. He tore the pretty trinket away, and dashed it into the grate, and a curse broke from his shut teeth, as he saw it fall glowing amongthe hot embers. Then he turned back to the beginning, and began to readmore deliberately, allowing his anger to cool and harden, like lava, above his smouldering wrath. 

Thus it was that Mabel commenced her journal. 

 * * * * *

"A letter from my guardian. This is indeed an event. A year ago he wroteme a long letter of advice, touching my studies, and giving a world ofcounsel regarding my deportment. That cold, half-dictatorial, half-fatherly letter, seemed forced from his heart by a sense of duty. This is brief, elegant and kind. He is satisfied with my progress atschool, and hears with pleasure, of the improvement in my person--thismeans, probably, that I am not near so plain as he fancied me. They tellhim I have a sort of fire and animation of the countenance, moreeffective than perfection of outline could render me. I wonder if thisbe true--of course it is impossible to judge of one's self in a pointwhich depends so much upon the feelings. There is no animation in ahurried or tedious toilet, and the beauty he speaks of is never givenback by the mirror. To my vision, now, this is a rather dull anduninteresting face. I wonder if it ever does light up into anything likebeauty. Some one must have said this to my guardian. Could it have beenthe young heir of Neathcote? He did not seem to look at me at all, whenhe called at the school and I was frightened to death by his great, earnest eyes; if my guardian proves half as imposing, I shall be afraidto look up in his presence. 

"There is something strange in the situation of my guardian. He isconsidered one of the most eloquent men in America, and by his marriagewith the widow of a cousin, three or four times removed, is the masterof great wealth. But every dollar of it came by his wife, on whom theson was left entirely dependent as he is now. They tell me that GeneralHarrington is a liberal step-father and gives the young man no reason tocomplain, but it seems a little hard that all his father's great wealthshould have been swept into the possession of a comparative stranger;for, though these two men bear one common name, and are remotely of thesame blood, they met for the first time at the wedding out of whichsprang these present rather singular relations. 

"There is another strange thing about this. Mrs. Harrington can onlydispose of the property by will. She has no power to alienate it duringher life, but can bequeath it where she likes. So if the General shouldoutlive her, this young man may be utterly disinherited; a hard case itseems to me, for the lady is very gentle and yielding, so devoted to herhandsome husband, that his faintest wish is a law to her. All this hasbeen told me from time to time, leaving such an impression of injusticeon my mind, that I fairly began to pity the young man before I saw him. But after that, the idea of pity never entered my mind. Millions couldnot enhance the nobility of his presence, or make him one shade moreinteresting. His mother is said to be very beautiful. She should be, sheshould be! But how foolishly I am writing about a person whom I havenever seen but once, and who seemed to have taken no interest in thatmeeting, except to give me a letter from his Step-father, which willalter my whole course of life. The young gentleman himself is onlypassing this way on his travels westward. 

"So, I am to start at once, now that my education iscompleted--completed; I like the term--as if education were not alwaysprogressive, rounded off by death only. Well, at least, I am grateful toleave this tiresome routine of lessons, and yet there is something ofmournfulness in this abrupt entrance into life. 

"I have just opened the window, and would gladly look forth upon themorning. But this screen of Cherokee roses hangs before me like acurtain, shedding fragrance from every fold. In parting its clusterswith my hands, tenderly--for to my fancy, flowers are sensitive andrecoil from a rude touch--the dew that has been all night asleep intheir heart, bathes my hands with its sweet rain, and through theopening comes a gush of odor from the great magnolia that reaches outits boughs so near my window, that I could lean forth and shake thedrops from those snowy chalices, as they gleam and tremble in the brightair. 

"What a beautiful world is this. The very breath one draws leaves adelicious languor behind it, a languor that falls upon the senses andgives back to the whole being a dreamy quietude that makes the mereeffort of existence an exquisite enjoyment. And yet there is a feelingof strange loneliness in it all. It is pleasant to be happy, but oh! howmore than pleasant to have some one near, to whom all these charmingsensations can be expressed. I think one is never quite content alone, but then who ever is really content?

"How exquisitely pure every thing seems; my little chamber here, withits delicate matting and snowy draperies, looks like the nest of aring-dove, it is so white and quiet. The sweet visions which visit mehere are melodious as the warbling of the young bird, when the earlymorning wakens it, as the dawn has just aroused me. 

"I have been now three days beneath my guardian's roof. Dear Neathcote, I love it already for its singular beauty! I shall never forget thestrange feelings which crowded my bosom, as the carriage passed throughthe park gates and rolled slowly up the broad avenue. I threw open thewindow and leaned out with the eagerness of a child to catch a sight ofmy new home. When, as a sudden turn in the road brought the front of themansion in full view, I shrunk into my seat again, trembling from avague fear, which had as much of joy as pain in it. 

"I grew fairly dizzy and faint with excitement, as the carriage pausedbefore the entrance, and I saw my guardian waiting on the steps to greetme, standing up so stately and proud, with his wife by his side, hersweet face lighted up with a sort of friendly curiosity, to see what herunknown visitor would be like. 

"It was not embarrassment that I felt, it was a deep, strange emotionfor which I could not account. It seemed as if in crossing thatthreshold I was to bid an eternal farewell to the repose of my pastlife. Like a flash of lightning those thoughts swept in a tumult throughmy brain as I descended from the carriage, and went up the steps to meetmy guardian, and his wife, who came forward to welcome me. 

"I shall always love to look back upon that arrival!

"Everything was so homelike and comfortable, in spite of themagnificence which reigned around! My guardian's rather cold facebrightened into a smile that rendered him very handsome, and his wifegreeted me as if I had been indeed her child, returning home after along absence. Then I caught sight of a woman's face at the window--aservant evidently, yet there was a singular look in her great blackeyes, as she raised them boldly to my face, which almost terrified me. Neither my guardian nor Mrs. Harrington appeared to see her, but Iwondered how she ventured to thrust herself forward in that manner, onthe arrival of a stranger. 

"It was she who followed me to my chamber, when Mrs. Harringtonconducted me there, yet she offered no assistance, until her mistressbade her attend to my toilet; then she obeyed, searching my face all thewhile from under her black eyelashes. Yet her singularity was probablyan exaggeration of my own fancy, for she seems quiet and well-behaved, though a little sullen. I am glad she is not to be my attendant, forthere is certainly an evil look in her eyes, whenever she regards me, and I could never feel quite comfortable at night if I knew that shewere any where near. 

"The girl had just left my rooms after arranging the toilet, which wasalready in order, as if for an excuse for the intrusion. She cannot be aslave, for though a little dark, I can trace nothing of the Africanblood in her face; there is a glossy ripple in the blackness of herhair, but that is a beauty which any woman might envy. No, no, shecannot be a slave. Her singular style of beauty forbids the thought;besides, she is not an uneducated person, and there is a certain subtlegrace in her movements that I cannot resist admiring, and yet loathe. This is strange. Why is the girl so constantly in my thoughts? YesterdayI spoke to Mrs. Harrington about her, for my curiosity becameirresistible. She is a slave, a new purchase of Gen. Harrington's, andthe personal servant of his wife. Mrs. Harrington smiled in her usualcontented way, and gently complained of the girl's uselessness andstudied inattention, but she seems unused to opposition of any kind, andlanguidly allows even her servants to control her wishes. This fieryslave--for, with all her stillness, she _is_ fiery--overpowers thegentle nature of her mistress, and really seems to drink up her strengthwith the glances of those great black eyes. 

"How indifferent proud men sometimes are to the beauty of theirinferiors! now, this girl Zillah is constantly charming even myhalf-repulsed admiration by her rare loveliness, yet I have scarcelyseen General Harrington turn his eyes upon her face during the wholetime that I have been in his house, but then, his devotion to Mrs. Harrington is so perfect, he evidently has no eyes for any one else. 

"How long is it since I opened my journal? Three months, I reallybelieve, and not a word of record. Even now, when the world becomes morereal, I feel like one aroused very softly from dreaming among theangels. How would I write and see emblazoned upon paper, doomed, perhaps, frail as it is, to outlive me, thoughts that even yet are sointangible, that, like the butterflies that I used to run after when achild, they are constantly eluding my grasp, and as constantlybrightening all the atmosphere around me. Is it possible that so manyweeks have gone by since _he_ came home? It seems like a prolongedsunset, when the summer is in prime, and one trembles to see a singletint fade from the sky, or a single flower overshadowed, lest it shoulddepart forever. Can it be this heavenly atmosphere which imparts to thewhole being a languor so delightful, mingled with that sweet unrestwhich only wakes you to a keener relish of existence? I have beenstriving to interrogate my own heart, and ask many questions which itcannot answer, because the whole world here is so new and strange, thatit is impossible to discriminate between the luxurious sweetness ofmaterial life and those quieter impulses that I have known hitherto. 

"I remember the delight with which I first looked out upon this lovelyscene, but with all the novelty and perfect freedom of a heart ready toenjoy the beautiful, I never before felt enjoyment so intense. I come tomy room at night and lie down to rest, jealous of the sleep thatswallows up so many hours of happiness. I am fond of dreaming nolonger, for visions that the angels send are no compensation for thelost thoughts that sleep steal from me. 

"I sat down with a determination to write of events, and as ever dwellonly upon feelings. After all, what has happened? Another member hasbeen added to the family circle, that is all, and yet, what a change hiscoming has made. His presence seems to pervade the whole house. Theservants look more cheerful when he speaks to them. His mother brightensup, and throws off her languor as she hears his tread upon the veranda. Even the General's courtly politeness is toned down into something likeaffection, and all his artificial stateliness takes its natural level, when contrasted by the simple dignity of this young man's nature. Indeed, until James Harrington came, I had no idea how superficial anduntrue was the character of my guardian. But now, with the pure gold ofthis fine heart as a test, I can more clearly see the entire selfishnesswhich lies under his elaborate manners. 

"'James will be here to-day, ' he said one morning, while we all lingeredaround the breakfast table, 'and his company, I trust, will render yournew home more pleasant than we have been able to make it. '

"'He will be like an elder brother to you, ' said Mrs. Harrington, smoothing the lace ruffles over her fair arm, and turning her soft eyesupon me with a look of gentle affection, 'and you--oh, he cannot helpliking you. '

"Why did the blood rush into my face so hotly? Why did the lashes droopover my eyes, and the tears spring up beneath them? Was it that I am socompletely an orphan, that this loving hint of brotherly companionshipmade me more lonely than harshness could have done? I cannot tell; butat this word 'brother'--utterly strange to my life hitherto--my heartmade a sudden recoil, and I could scarcely keep from weeping outright. General Harrington lifted his eyes to mine, with evident surprise, whilethe little white hand of his wife crept into my lap, and softly pressedmine. That moment a horse dashed up to the door, and young Harringtoncame into the breakfast-room; his fine eyes full of eager affection; hischeeks in a glow, and with the most beautiful smile I ever saw on mortallips breaking over his mouth. 

"'Mother, mother!' he said, coming toward Mrs. Harrington, with bothhands extended. 'I rose at midnight, and have ridden fast ever since, inorder to surprise you at the breakfast-table. '

"Mrs. Harrington started up; a flush stole over her face, and for onceher eyes sparkled before they filled with pleasant tears. This arrivalwas, indeed, a surprise to her. 

"As he was about to release her hands from his clasp, she drew himtowards me, and said pleasantly:

"'This is Mabel Crawford--the General's ward. '

"He took my hand, and an expression of surprise or interest rose to hisface as he felt my poor fingers quiver in his; while my face was burningwith a consciousness of feelings more tumultuous by far, than theoccasion could warrant. He held my hand a moment longer than wasnecessary to a cordial welcome, and, for an instant, seemed to wonder atmy perturbation; then his features relaxed into the most kindlyexpression I ever saw, and some words of welcome fell upon my ears, butto this hour I cannot recollect what they were; the sound entered myheart, and that was enough. 

"General Harrington seemed to watch us closely, for I saw a smile creepover his face, as if my awkwardness rather amused him; while his ladystood by, regarding us with her soft, brown eyes, which were beamingwith a thousand affectionate welcomes. 

"I think it was from that moment this strange happiness of heartcommenced, which has made Neathcote seem so much like a pleasant cornerof paradise to me. I never knew what companionship was before. If Iwish to read, he seems ever to have the book uppermost in his mind thatmeets my own thought. If I am restless--and this mood grows upon me oflate--he is ready to gallop by my side down to the quarters, where I amnever weary of watching the queer little negroes at their play, orthrough the magnolia groves that envelope us with a cloud of perfume aswe sweep beneath their branches. In fact, I have no wish from morning tonight, which Harrington does not either share or anticipate; no brothercould be more kind; and yet it gives me a strange pang to feel that allthis----

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

AMONG THE WATER LILIES. 

"I left off with a half-finished sentence. Mrs. Harrington's maid brokein upon me at the moment with a message from the young master, as shecalls him. In a hollow among the hills he has found a pond ofwater-lilies, and I must hasten to see them unfold their snowy hearts tothe morning sun, after sleeping all night upon the lake. 

"Will I go? Surely one of those lotus flowers never thrilled a moregrateful response to the wave that sways it, than my heart gives back tohis wish--will I go? Those sleeping buds will not answer the sunbeamsthat kiss them into another day of bloom, more gladly than I take thehappiness he offers. I have been restless and sad all night, and myheart leaps to this new prospect of pleasure, as a bird flutters forthfrom the shadowy leaves where it has spent the dark hours. 

"The lotus pond was like a fairy lake, when we reached it; the bankswere festooned and garlanded with wild vines, prairie roses, and yellowjessamines, overrunning whole hedgerows of swamp magnolias, whoseblended odor floated like a mist over the waters. Here and there an oak, with long, hoary moss bearding its limbs, lifted whole masses of thisentangled foliage into the air, and flung it back again in a thousandgarlands and blooming streamers, that rippled dreamily in the waters ofthe lake. As we came up, an oriole had lighted on one of these pendantbranches, and poured a flood of song over us as we passed down to theboat, which lay in a pretty cove ready to receive us. 

"An old negro sat in the boat, lazily waiting our approach, with hisface bowed upon his brawny bosom, and the sun striking through thebranches upon a head that seemed covered with crisp frost, age had socompletely whitened his hair. A word from the young master roused theslumbering old man; and, with a broad grin of delight, he proceeded toarrange the crimson cushions, and trim his sails, making haste to putforth on our cruise along the shore, which was starred with openinglotus blossoms, and green with their broad-floating leaves. 

"It made my heart thrill with a sort of pain, as our boat ploughedthrough this exquisite sheet of blossoms--for, as I have said before, ithas always seemed to me like uprooting a tender thought when a flower istorn from its stem. I said something like this, as Harrington laid ahandful of the open flowers in my lap. He looked at me steadily for amoment--muttered that it was a strange fancy--but plucked no morewater-lilies that day. After a time, when the old man, thinking toplease us, commenced to tear them up by the roots, Harrington rebukedhim for his roughness, and bade him trim the boat for a sail across thelake. 

"I wonder why it is, that, when we feel deepest, a disposition tosilence always holds the senses in thralldom. I did not speak half adozen words, as our boat sped like a bird across the lake; and yet myheart was full of happiness, for Harrington had his dark eyes fixedwith a sort of dreamy earnestness on my face all the time. Aconsciousness so strange, and almost delirious, seized upon me, that Icould neither look up nor speak, but bowed my head over the blossoms inmy lap, whispering to them what had never been uttered in words, andnever perhaps, may be. 

"While we sat thus in mute happiness, with nothing but the ripple of theboat to break the exquisite joy of our silence, the oriole began to singagain, and his mate answered back the song from across the lake. Ilooked up, and met his eyes: a flush came to his forehead, and I feltthe warm blood burning over my cheeks and forehead. His lips parted, andfor one instant he took my hand, but only to drop it among the coldwater-lilies again, as if some distressing thought had aroused him topainful consciousness. Why was this? how came it that he relinquished myhand so abruptly? Was he shocked with my upward glances--did he think myrecognition of his thoughts unmaidenly?

"The orioles ceased to sing just then, and a sullen cloud came sweepingover us, which broke upon the pond in a sudden squall of wind. Beforethe old man could reef his sail, it gave way, and fluttered out, likethe wounded wing of a bird, bearing our boat with it. The first plungecast me forward at Harrington's feet; he caught me to his bosom, pressing me there with one arm, while he drew in the sail with theother. 

"The wind rose high, tearing in a tornado across the pond; but, I amsure--sure as I am of the beating of my own heart, that Harringtontrembled from other causes than the danger we were in. Twice he bent hislips to my face, but checked himself with murmurs which the cruel windcarried from me. 

"I do not know how we reached the shore, or why it was that we walked insuch profound silence homeward--but this I do know, another hour likethat would have broken my heart with its wealth of happiness. 

"I could not sleep last night, but lay quietly, with my hands foldedsoftly over my bosom as had been a childish habit, thinking over thatsail upon the lotus pond. The moonbeams stole into my room, penetratingthe roses that hung around the casement, and bringing their odor softlyaround my couch. This rendered my happiness complete. 

"The morning found me wakeful, but when it brightened into day, I closedmy eyes, and turned my head upon the pillow, ashamed that the broadlight should witness my happiness. 

 * * * * *

"How sudden this is. Mrs. Harrington has been fading away for a month. Her physician recommends change of climate, and in ten days we all startfor Madeira, or perhaps, Spain. _He_ goes with us, and I am content. 

"On shipboard at last! Here I sit in my little cabin and listen to theheaving of the waves against the vessel, as it ploughs proudly along, asif full of the consciousness of its own strength, and defying the veryelements to impede its progress. 

"The past ten days have been one continued fever of excitement, and Ihave scarcely opened my journal. This trip to Europe was finally decidedupon in such haste, that we have known hardly a moment of rest. 

"We were on board this morning at ten o'clock, and two hours after, NewYork lay stretched out behind us on the shore of its beautiful bay, likesome enchanted city asleep in the sunlight. 

"All that was dear to me stood by my side, so I had no sorrow at mydeparture, beyond the natural feeling of regret that all must feel onquitting their native land. I could not understand Mrs. Harrington'sburst of grief, so unlike her usual quiet demeanor. She has not seemedmuch in favor of this voyage, although she made no opposition whencertain how greatly her husband desired to go. There has been a strangeunrest about her for days, that I could not comprehend, but from a fewwords she unthinkingly uttered this morning, I imagine her to be hauntedby one of those morbid fancies, which at times seize upon the strongestmind, in the eve of a long journey--the idea that she will never againbehold the land she is leaving behind. 

"She has been laying down in her cabin all day, for she suffers greatly, and I spent several hours with her, but at sunset James called me ondeck. We stood side by side at the stern of the ship, and saw the sun godown behind a mass of clouds more gorgeous than I ever beheld. Thewestern sky seemed alive with molten flame--great billows of crimsonrolled up against the amber waves of light the sun had left behind, streaming down over the waters, like a torrent of rainbows, until onecould scarce tell which was sea and which sky. 

"We stood there until the latest glories died, and then the moon stoleslowly up, with only one star beside her, like the one bright hope of ahuman heart. We conversed but little. My soul was too full of the homewe had left, and I knew, by the expression of Harrington's face, that heunderstood and shared my feelings. It was late when I left him, and Icannot write more. My hand is tremulous with the strange feelings whichthrill at my heart; the excitement of these last few days has been toomuch for me, but in the quiet of this new life I shall grow calm again, perhaps. Just now something of Mrs. Harrington's fears seems to oppressme. 

"A month has passed. Our voyage is almost at an end, for to-morrow thecaptain promises that we shall be safely anchored in the harbor ofCadiz. The sun went down this evening in an embankment of clouds, shedding pale, watery gleams upon the sea, that threatened roughweather. As the darkness came on, the clouds spread upward, blackeningthe whole sky, and flashes of lightning now and then tore through them, like fiery chain shot through the smoke of a battle. There wasconsternation on board, for we were nearing the coast, and a storm likethis threatened danger. 

"I remained on deck till the rising wind almost swept me over thebulwarks. James Harrington was with me, and as the lightning gleamedathwart his face, I saw that it was anxious and very pale. He strove toappear unconcerned, and went down to the cabin, with a strong effort atcheerfulness, which neither deceived me, nor checked the terrible fearsof his poor mother. General Harrington had retired to his state-room, where he sat in moody silence, wrapped in a large travelling cloak. Whenhis invalid wife joined him, trembling with nervous terror, he onlyfolded his cloak the tighter around himself, and muttered that she needapprehend no danger. 

"Young Mr. Harrington wrung my hand with more of warmth than he had everexhibited before, when he bade me good night. He has gone on deck, whileI am cowering in my state-room, unable to seek rest, and striving towrite, though the storm is howling louder and louder, and every lurch ofthe ship flings the book from my lap. "

CHAPTER XXXV. 

AFTER THE STORM. 

"Alive and on land. In the country, back a little from the coast, wehave found a shelter from the shipwreck. That we live at all is owing tothe bravery of a seaman who superintended the making of a raft after theship struck, and almost forced us to save our lives by risking themupon it. The other passengers refused to go, and for a long time wehesitated, but Ben Benson was so determined, that at last we trustedevery thing to his frail craft, which, alas! was all of our brave vesselthat ever reached the shore. 

"I shudder even now, as I remember the fearful rush of waters around uswhen our craft was cut loose from the sinking vessel. A hundred ghostlyforms looked down upon us from the crowded stern, dreading the death forus, which too surely fell on them. 

"It was a terrible venture. The storm still raging, the sea rising high, and breakers howling on either hand, like hungry tigers tearing at theirchains. It all seems like a hideous dream to me now, but I remember onething that kept the life in my heart, when it seemed turning to stone. In the midst of the storm, as the raft reeled and plunged over thelightning-stricken waves, I found myself gathered to his bosom, andwhile the warmth of that embrace reached my heart, I heard such words assent the blood thrilling like a gush of wine, back through all my veins. In the rage and whirl of the storm, while we were quivering in the veryjaws of death, James Harrington uttered in many a wild word, the lovethat I had felt to be mine before. He seems to have forgotten it now, for since we have been housed safely on land, with the breath of a dozenorange groves awaking nothing but sweet emotions, he seems to have lostthe passion of those delirious words, but that they are burned likeenamel on my heart, I might fancy them a dream and nothing more. 

"Why is this? What makes him so reserved and yet so gently courteous. There is no impediment to free speech. Are we not equals in birth--andas for fortune, thank Heaven, I am rich enough for both. Why should healmost shun me then, and spend so much time wandering along the coast, looking upon the waves that have almost proved fatal to us? Thesethoughts make me very sad. Does he repent, or has a passion that seemedso strong when death was nigh, gone out with the storm that witnessedits first utterance. "

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

MISTRESS AND MAID. 

"We had no particular object in touching the coast of Spain but thehealth of Mrs. Harrington. Strange enough, the shock and tumult of thestorm seems to have done her good. She looks stronger and brighter dayby day. I never saw such a change. But Zillah, that wild beautifulslave, has been ill from that terrible morning, and keeps her room. Theyare all very good to her. Mr. Harrington, James, and even the lady, viewith each other in offering kindness to her. These things seem to affecther greatly; last night, when Mrs. Harrington sat down by her bed, andtook the feverish hand which she seemed unwilling to extend, the girlturned from her suddenly, and burst into a passion of tears that shookthe bed. 

"Mrs. Harrington tried to soothe her. She passed her delicate hand overthe waves of purplish black hair, which was all afloat from her head, and asked in her sweet, gentle way, 'What the girl was crying for. Wasshe homesick?'

"Zillah turned suddenly and looked into that sweet face. Her lipsparted, and some strong resolve came into those almond-shaped eyes;through her inky lashes, laden down with tears, I saw a gleam of truefeeling that made me almost like the girl. But she closed her lipsagain, and the noble expression died out of her face, leaving it full ofdusky shadows. 

"'No, I am only sick, ' she said, 'something struck me as I flung myselfdown to the raft. All had left but me. But what does it matter whether apoor slave lives or dies? It is a thousand dollars gone--two, Iremember, for a pretty slave like me--and that is all. '

"She spoke with bitterness, and her eyes gleamed angrily under the tearsthat still trembled on their lashes. 

"'But you have scarcely been a slave, Zillah, ' said Mrs. Harrington. 'Itwould be a shame to look upon you exactly in that light with this face, fair almost as my own, and this hand soft, and shapely as a child's. Surely no girl ever had lighter duties. '

"Zillah gave one quick glance at her mistress, and I saw the faintdimpling of a smile around her lips. She drew her hand away and hid itunder the bed clothes. 

"'You--you are making fun of me, searching for purple marks around thenails. There is no need of that. But for the black blood I could nothave been bought and sold. That is proof enough. '

"The girl spoke bitterly, and her lips trembled with passion. Then Isaw, what had never presented itself to me before, sure signs of herrace. Temper brought the black blood uppermost, and stamped it for atime on the features. The lips seemed heavier, the nose flattened, theforehead lowered and grew dusky, a strange vitality stirred the waves ofher hair. No serpent, disturbed in its nest, ever gave out its colorsmore vividly. These were thoughts to bring great repulsion with them. Inever had liked the girl; now, this upheaving of the dark blood, fromwhich all that made her kin to me revolted, even in her own system, shocked and humiliated me. 

"Mrs. Harrington, born and bred in the south, felt all this less keenly, she still smoothed the young creature's hair and attempted to comforther. 

"'You have no cause for trouble, ' she said. 'Have I not always taughtyou that a faithful servant had all the claims of a friend, else why amI here in your sick room, Zillah?'

"'Oh, I am worth full two thousand dollars, ' answered the girl, bitterly. 'General Harrington takes excellent care of his horses. Is itfor love?'

"'Zillah, this is unkind, remember it is not my fault that you are aslave. '

"'Mrs. Harrington arose; the insolent ingratitude of the girl hadwounded her greatly. For my part, indignation forbade me to pity thecreature. As we left the room I saw that she followed us with her eyes, and the African stamp grew broader and plainer on her face, till allbeauty left it. As we closed the door she started up and called out withsudden dread, "'Mistress, mistress. '

"Mrs. Harrington hesitated a moment, with her hand on the latch, butwent back into Zillah's room murmuring, "'Poor thing, poor thing, she is sorry already. '

"'Mistress, don't tell him, don't tell the master. I--I did not mean tosay such things. It was the black blood burning in my heart. Don't tellhim, or he will send me back. '

"Mrs. Harrington smiled. 

"'No, I will not tell him, ' she said kindly, 'for I think he would sendyou home at once if he knew how perverse you have been. You ought toremember that he never will forgive disrespect to his wife. '

"I was looking at Zillah. She half covered her face with the bedclothes, and her form writhed under them as if in pain. It might havebeen a sudden pang, but the look of a rattlesnake, before it springs, was in those eyes. 

"Mrs. Harrington was thinking of her husband, and observed nothing. 

"'That is one great proof of his love, ' she said addressing me, 'and Ithink he does love me as few men love their wives. Have you notobserved how cheerful and happy he is since I am so much better? It wasonly last night he told me that no woman, living or dead, ever had orever could touch the heart entirely mine, not even if God had taken mefrom him. I know it seems foolish to repeat these things, but when theheart is full, one cannot always help being boastful and silly. '

"Zillah turned rudely in the bed, and I saw her hand clench itself intothe blanket, tearing at the tough fabric. Mrs. Harrington, with thatfeeling of household trust which has no consciousness of theintelligence listening, went on as if the girl were a thousand milesoff. 

"'You will not mind if I am a little egotistical. It is so pleasant tobe held supreme in the one heart, to feel sure that no other woman everhas or can share your influence. If there is a woman on earth that Ipity, it is one who doubts the love of her husband. Thank God I havenever, never had reason to know that pang. If ever two people adoredeach other it is us. '

"Perhaps it was a little singular that this lady should talk of the mostsacred domestic relations thus freely before her own servant, but it didnot seem strange to me. A child-like, affectionate woman like her, maybe excused many things that persons prouder and more reticent mightproperly avoid; besides, the domestic habits of the south admit of veryclose relationship between the mistress and her servants, unknown toother regions even of our own country. I could only smile an answer tothis wifely enthusiasm, but it seemed to me genuine and so sincere, thatall my sympathy went with it. As for the maid, she lay perfectly still, listening, and apparently half asleep, for she had gathered the bedclothes around her, and it was only by a quick glitter that brokethrough her eyelashes now and then, that I could detect the interest shetook in this singular conversation. 

"'No, no, ' said Mrs. Harrington, 'I would not tell the General for theworld, how really perverse Zillah has been. She has never quite met hisapprobation I know, and the least thing would set him against her. '

"'Hush, she is listening, ' I said. 

"Mrs. Harrington turned and saw that Zillah was looking at her with astrange expression. Something like a mocking smile parted her full lips. 

"'You must believe me, Zillah. It was in spite of the General's wish toleave you behind, that I brought you here. '

"Again Zillah smiled, this time with more of mischief than malice. 

"'I know, myself, the General never liked me much. It was master Jamesthat got him to buy me; the General would do anything to please him. '

"'Yes indeed, ' replied Mrs. Harrington, addressing me, 'no step-fatherwas ever so indulgent. James has been a fortunate boy, though he doesnot always seem to think so. It was he who took a fancy to Zillah, andinsisted that we should bring her with us, so the General gave up hisprejudice against her and consented. James thinks no one can take propercare of me but Zillah. '

"I was still watching the girl. All the frowns had left her face and shewas almost laughing; something seemed to amuse her very much. I saidnothing of this, but the girl puzzled me greatly, and so did theconversation of Mrs. Harrington. Somehow I had got the impression thatJames Harrington had been opposed to Zillah as an attendant for hismother; that he had suggested an older person, and regarded this onewith distrust. But surely Mrs. Harrington, his own mother, knew best. "

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE SLAVE WE LEFT BEHIND US. 

"Zillah was really ill, and for her sake we were detained in that littlehamlet on the coast for three weeks. Even then she was unable to travel, and General Harrington resolved to move on without her. The barrenlittle village had no attractions for him, and he certainly was not aman to sacrifice much time or convenience to a slave against whom he hadprejudices. 

"Why had I become so painfully interested in that girl? Why was it thatmy heart grew heavy, when James Harrington expostulated with his fatherso earnestly against the abandonment of that poor girl, as he calledher, in a strange place and among people whose language was unknown toher. 

"But the General was resolute. The girl could follow them to Seville, hesaid, when she became well enough to travel, no harm need come to herand she could be well spared. Mrs. Harrington had improved so much inher health that Zillah could have plenty of time to get well withoutmuch inconvenience to her mistress. Miss Crawford's little maid wasalways at her disposal. 

"James Harrington did not seem satisfied with this reasoning, but hesaid nothing more, and the next day we went up to Cadiz, leaving Zillahbehind. 

"The girl was greatly distressed, and protested that she was well enoughto travel anywhere with her mistress, that everything would go wrong ifshe was left behind, that the people were strange and would not know howto direct her. She attempted to leave her bed and put on a travelingdress, but fainted as her foot touched the floor. I was sorry for thepoor creature, and my heart ached at the necessity of leaving heralone; but like her I was powerless in the hands of my guardian. 

"Just before we left, General Harrington went in to speak with her. Shewas acting very unreasonably, he said, and deserved chastisement for herfolly. Did she expect his whole family to wait in that dull place tillit was her pleasure to get well? The truth was, James had spoiled thegirl. 

"He must have been harsh with the poor thing, though that was not at alllike him, for she was sobbing as if her heart would break ten minutesafter, when I went into her room, and said many bitter things of hermaster's cruelty, which in common charity I shall never repeat. Certainly the girl does seem to be terribly spoiled. I wish her no harm, poor wretch, but if she were going back home a free woman my heart wouldbe lighter. I wonder if they would let me purchase her and give her thefreedom which belongs to every one of God's creatures. She has managedto pick up a tolerable education, and in a country where hundreds of theblue blood are darker than she is, might do well; for she certainly isbeautiful and has bright native talent enough to carve out a happyfuture for herself. As for the money, a year's income would be nothingcompared with the relief of seeing her happy, free, and of all things, away from us. I will speak of this to Mrs. Harrington; no woman ever hada kinder heart or a keener sense of justice; the difficulty with her isthat she spoils her servants with too much kindness. That is a thingwhich people just out of barbarism are apt to mistake for weakness. 

"I think this girl has been made unhappy by the education which liftsher out of the common herd of slaves. She feels the disgrace of castewith terrible acuteness, and in no strata of society can find a placefor herself. In order to make the slaves useful or happy, they must beeducated in masses. It does not do to lift one from among his fellowsas a specimen of what they can possibly become. Open a future for theslaves, give them intelligence and freedom at the same time; but I neednot go on. How many times has all this been said. But the day will comewhen justice shall be brought about. 

"We are leaving Cadiz for Seville, where General Harrington proposes tospend the holy week. I have had no opportunity to speak with Mrs. Harrington yet, but the fate of the poor girl we have left behind hangsheavily on my spirits. James Harrington, too, seems depressed. Isit--can it be? No, no, no! A thousand times no! How dare I form it inthought? Still, she is beautiful, clever, elevated by her intelligencefar above some of my own order. She has caressing ways, too, when itpleases her to assume them, and a look out of those almond-shaped eyeswhen she is pleased or grieved, that troubles even me with painfuladmiration. No, if money can buy her she shall be out of her thraldom, and happy as a bird, but only on condition that she flies away to herown country, or stays in this after we leave it. Strive as I will forcharity, nothing on earth, I do think, will ever make me like that girleven as a servant. 

"Our steamboat is just now turning into the mouth of the Guadalquiver. What strange, barren-looking things are these Spanish castles! Theirwalls, of a dull, yellowish red, seem more like an upheaving of the soilitself, than massive stone piled up by the labor of man. They are bare, too, of the rich vines and tremulous leafage which makes the ruins ofItaly so picturesque, and those of England so grand in their decay. Hereis a massive building on our right, full of historic interest, I daresay, and it may be rich in Moorish embellishments if I could see theinterior; but at this distance it looks bleak and barren as a prison. Myown vague 'castles in Spain' are ten thousand times more beautiful. 

"I said this to James Harrington as he came and stood beside me on thedeck. 

"'Oh, ' he answered with a sigh, 'Who of us does not build air castlesonly to see them vanish into mist. As you say, mine have been morebeautiful than that heap of stones. After all, architecture is severelyperfect, which Nature does not claim after it leaves the hand of itsconstructor. The struggle which she makes to draw art back into her ownbosom, is always beautiful. '

"Thus he will talk to me for hours, but never of himself. What have Idone that we are driven so far apart, --that he so studiously turns hiseyes away when mine question him with unconsciousearnestness, --unconscious till some look of his reminds me that for amoment I have been off my guard. Then I grow angry with myself, andavoid him with what must seem to him childish caprice. Does heunderstand all that I think and suffer? Does he know how that day amongthe water lilies haunts my memory?"

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE EATON FAMILY. 

"There is an American family on board--some persons whom the Harringtonshave met before in the South, and who have attempted to renew theacquaintance. The old people seem to me very coarse, common-placepersons--planters from the interior of Louisiana--rich and vulgar; butthe daughter is beautiful--a blonde, with lovely hair, full of sunshine, and eyes of that deep purplish blue which one seldom sees afterchildhood. Her figure is petite but finely rounded. She has all thehealth and freshness of a child, with the sweetest graces of womanhood. Yes, I can say this, and acknowledge the charm of her beauty, though shehas given me the most wretched day I ever passed in my life. 

"James Harrington had known her before, and was rejoiced at the meeting. When he saw her across the deck my hand was on his arm, for we werewalking together. The start he gave shook off my hold and, with bothhands extended, he went to meet her, glad as I had never seen himbefore. 

"The girl blushed like a rose, and came forward to meet him, quite halfway, smiling up in his face as I had never dared to smile through allthe months of our domestic intercourse. My heart turned cold. I felt astrange contraction about my mouth as if all the blood were retreatingfrom the lips, which would not syllable a word when he brought the younglady towards me and presented her. 

"She looked at me earnestly, like a child who felt itself repulsed, andstood silent as if expecting me to come out of my reticence and receiveher as every one evidently did. 

"At last I spoke with an effort, and I dare say brusquely, for I feltthat my voice sounded forced and cold. 

"'You are an old friend--you have known Gen. Harrington and his familybefore?' I said. 

"'Oh yes, ' she answered, smiling up at James. 'We are old friends. Howlong is it, Mr. Harrington, since you taught me to ride? Indeed, MissCrawford, I think he has taught me almost everything worth knowing thatI can boast of. '

"I made an effort to smile, and answered in the insincerity of my pain, that it must have been a pleasant task to instruct so lovely a pupil. 

"She laughed sweetly, and replied in her childish fashion, 'He used tosay as much, but I am sure it was only to encourage me. '

"Just then her father crossed the deck, radiant with pleasure, andshouted a greeting as he came. He was a large, heavy man, robust andgenial, overshadowed by a broad Panama hat, and flourishing a largewhite handkerchief in his hand, as if it had been the star spangledbanner, which was to open the heart of every American he met. 

"'Hallo! We have overtaken them at last, have we, Miss Lucy? Now I hopeyou are satisfied. How are you, Harrington? Did not expect to see us inthis part of the world, I dare say? Is the General and Mrs. Harringtonon board? Of course I might have known as much from a sight of thisyoung lady. The General's ward, I suppose. ' Here Mr. Eaton took off hisPanama hat and made an elaborate bow, which I returned, striving to meethis cordiality, with some show of interest. 

"'Well, this is comfortable, ' he said, fanning himself with the broadrim of his hat, 'of all countries in the world Spain is the one where anAmerican likes to meet an American best. I don't understand one word oftheir lingo, and our courier isn't much better off--hates the Spaniardsso that he never would learn their language, in hopes that it might keepany one from bringing him here. But he is a good fellow, can be trustedwith untold gold. Language or no language, I wasn't going to do withouthim. But it is awkward work trying to make these Spaniards understand. Ask what you will and they answer all alike, Kiem Sabe, as if that wasthe answer to an honest question. Oh my boy, I'd give twice the money wegot for her, that I hadn't sold you that girl Zillah. When we took herto Cuba she pitched in and learned the language right smart; wonderfulgirl that; have you got her yet, Harrington?'

"'She came with us to Spain, ' said Harrington, looking a good dealdisturbed, 'but you forget she was General Harrington's purchase. Ibelieve my mother took a fancy to her. '

"'Your mother! Why bless your soul, she never saw the girl till GeneralHarrington took her home. He said that _you_ had urged him to buy her;come, come, don't blush up like that, what the deuce do I care whofancied the girl, she was a great bargain to any one. '

"'Are you speaking of Zillah?' said Miss Eaton, languidly. 'What apretty creature she was. It seemed a shame to keep her with the othernegroes. I remember often and often visitors mistook her for me. '

"'But that was before they had seen you, Lucy. The girl is well enough, but no one could mistake her for you. Such coal black hair, eyes likevelvet. Yes, yes, the girl was a beauty, --one good reason why I waswilling to sell her. '

"James Harrington was so annoyed by the conversation, that he walkedaway frowning. I had never seen his noble face darken so unpleasantlybefore. 

"Miss Eaton laughed, and followed him with a pair of sparkling eyes, that had a world of mischief in them. 

"'Something wrong I see. That girl will keep things stirring wherevershe is; knows a heap, and far too handsome for my plantation; glad toget rid of her, if the truth must be told. Women folks were fools enoughto teach her to read and write, after that she took the bits into herown mouth, and learned every thing. What do you think I would do with afancy slave like that?'

"'Father, you cannot see, but General Harrington is coming, ' said MissEaton. 

"'Oh, ho! my old friend, how is the lady?'

"'Mrs. Harrington is quite well, the voyage has done her a world ofgood, long enough for a chance at health you understand. That is why weselected a sailing vessel. It isn't going to sea at all when you getinto the steamers. Where is James? I thought he came this way, hismother wants him. '

"'Oh, I am to blame, I drove him off talking about that girl Zillah. '

"'Come this way, ' said the General hastily, 'I wish to surprise Mrs. Harrington, she will be rejoiced to know that you are here. '

"They went away together. I saw General Harrington stop his friend afterthey got out of hearing, and talk with him earnestly as if expostulatingabout something. Then I saw Mr. Eaton clap his hand on the General'sshoulders, nod his head half a dozen times, and move on as if somematter had been amicably settled between them. From that day, I neverheard Mr. Eaton mention the girl Zillah again. Was it because JamesHarrington seemed so displeased with the subject?

"I was left alone with the young lady, who seemed so sweet and good thatit was impossible to look upon her with anything but kindness. Yet Inever turned towards her without a nervous thrill that almost held mybreath; every line of her face, and graceful curve of her form, seemedburned on my memory from the first moment I saw her. Was this jealousy?What had I to be jealous of? A fair girl whom he had known well, and waspleased to see in a strange country, where friends are few and unusuallywelcome, surely I am not so weak or wild as to give myself up to anunreasonable and unreasoning fancy like that. "

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THAT SPANISH NOBLEMAN. 

"Miss Eaton was enthusiastic about the scenery of the river, as the boatswept over its amber-hued waves, and the scenery became more and moreArcadian. She was a little romantic too, and fell into some childishaffectations, that gave me a fair excuse for not thinking her perfect. Upon the boat was a tall, powerful looking man, with bold black eyes, and the carriage of a person used to power of some kind. His dress wasremarkable, --the short jacket of the country, buttoned and ornamentedwith quantities of round golden buttons, that rattled and tinkled as hewalked up and down, was ornamented with a very rich embroidery, in whichgleams of crimson and brown were enwrought on the blue ground withdelicate effect; a traveling cap, also richly embroidered, satjauntingly on the side of his head. Everything about him was apparentlynew, and if too gorgeous, effective. 

"Miss Eaton watched this man with her furtive blue eyes, as he passed usever and again, each time fastening his gaze on her face with a look ofaudacious admiration that made the blood come hotly into my cheek. 

"'What is he, have you any idea?' she whispered, as he passed us for thefifth time, 'some nobleman I am sure. Don't you think so, MissCrawford?'

"I answered pleasantly, that as this was the first country of Europethat I had seen, it was impossible for me to judge what particular traitdistinguished its nobility. While I was saying this, a little fussywoman, wearing a showy dress and lace mantilla, came up to us and calledMiss Eaton by name. 

"'My dear, ' she said, giving Lucy's bonnet a jerk forward. 'Have youseen him?'

"'Who, mamma?'

"'Why that duke, he passed here just now, and I saw him looking atyou--with that bonnet stuck on end, dear me!'

"Lucy began to re-arrange her bonnet, entering into her mother'sanxiety. 'Was it--was it the gentleman with the buttons, mamma. How isit now? too far forward I think, --with the buttons?'

"'Such buttons!' interrupted the mother, 'solid gold every one of 'em, blue blood, every drop in his veins--any one could swear to that withouttelling. Did you see him, Miss?'

"'Miss Crawford, mamma, ' said Lucy, 'General Harrington's ward, whom wehave heard so much about. '

"The woman looked at me keenly through an enamelled eye glass, which shecarried fastened to a chain of gold, twisted around her wrist. 

"'Glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Crawford, ' she said, dropping theglass after a full survey of my person. 'James has told us so much aboutyou. Indeed, we were getting almost jealous, weren't we, Lucy? There, there he comes again. Drop your parasol, Lucy, carelessly, you know. Hush, hush!'

"The Spanish traveller came by us again, with his long sweeping walk andbold eyes, which he kept on the blushing face of MissEaton--impertinently, I thought. 

"Mrs. Eaton gave me a little punch with the point of her parasol, afterhe had passed. 

"'Struck! undoubtedly struck. Don't you think so?'

"'Oh, mamma, how can you! I'm sure it was Miss Crawford his Highness wasadmiring. '

"'But how do you know it is his Highness, ' I inquired. 

"'How? Why, look at him. His very tread has nobility in it. You have notbeen travelling abroad long enough to distinguish at a glance. In orderto know the aristocracy of a nation one must have mingled with it onequal terms. Now that gentleman is a royal duke, I take it. Lucy, dear, if you could manage to be speaking French when he comes this way again. Perhaps Miss Crawford knows enough to give you countenance. I am alittle--just a little--out of practice since my passion for the Spanish. Noble language, isn't it, Miss? Something so dignified--so rolling--sorich in sound. Here comes Mr. James Harrington, handsome as ever, butwanting, as I may suggest, in the grand air. See with what modestappreciation he passes the duke. '

"The vulgarity of this woman did more to lift the cloud from my heartthan a hundred arguments could have done. I knew young Harrington wellenough to feel that he was safe with a woman like this, though themother of an angel. A sense of amusement stole over me, and I awaitedhis approach, cured of the anxiety that had, for a time, made me sowretched. 

"If I had calculated on a second exhibition of snobbery after Harringtonjoined us, Mrs. Eaton disappointed me. I think she held the younggentleman in too much awe for a free exercise of the vanity that was inher. She did not even mention 'the duke, ' and I remarked that thispersonage kept on another portion of the deck while James was with us. 

"How beautiful are the banks of this river, as we go nearer and nearerits source! It is strange that I, an American, born in a land whichspreads the broadest prairies on earth to the breeze and the sunshine, should have caught my first glimpse of one in the heart of Spain. Heremile after mile, the Guadalquiver, spread through vast plains of tallgrass and wild flowers, which sweeps away from you on either hand in asea of billowy green touched with purple and crimson, gleams now andthen where the tall flowers grow thickest, and swayed by the wind tillthe waving grass seems to heave and roll like the ocean itself. 

"I had left my companions, and stood by the bulwarks admiring the beautyof this scene with a sense of keen pleasure. Its vastness, its softwave-like undulations charmed me into forgetfulness of all that has madethe trip unpleasant. There was no habitation in sight, yet thoseprairies gave one an idea of infinite life. 

"'It is here, ' said a voice at my elbow, 'where the people of Sevillecome for the wild bulls that form the great feature in their bullfights. Wandering about in that long grass are thousands of splendidanimals that probably never saw the face of man. '

"It was James Harrington. I felt that he was there before he spoke. Aquick throbbing of my heart had warned me of his presence. 

"'I see nothing of them, ' was my answer. 'It seems one broad sea of wavygrass, more still and lonely than the ocean itself, because no ships areto be seen. '

"'Look, ' he said, pointing to a long, undulating ripple in the grass, which seemed like the flow of some brook, 'a drove is coming toward theshore. '

"As he spoke, the thick wall of grass that hedged in the river wasparted, and the fiery head and broad chest of a wild bull, black as jet, came into full view, while the rest of his body was still concealed. 

"Rosa Bonheur would have gloried in a study like that. The great wildeyes, burning with angry fire--the long, slender horns, black as ebony, and sharp as steel, which curved out from the proud symmetry of thathead, would have inspired lower genius than hers. The furious toss ofthose horns, the swelling nostrils, blood red with angry heat, thevehement pawing of his hoof upon the bank, were enough to terrify abolder person than I am. But the river was deep, and our boat far enoughfrom the shore to silence any fear of danger. Besides, the creature wasso magnificent in his wild rage, that admiration overwhelmed all otherfeelings. 

"As the boat came opposite this bull, there was commotion in the tallgrass all around him, and out from the dense covert broke half a dozenkindred beasts, all drawn to the shore by the rush and sound of thesteamboat. Superb animals they were, one and all; perfect creatures, fresh from the hand of Nature, untouched by fetter or lasso, untamableas the lion in his jungle. Some were ready for fight with the monsterbeast that had seemed to challenge combat, with its rushing wheels andthe defiant snort of its engine. Others looked gravely at the passingphenomenon, and stood motionless, with the long grass closing overtheir backs, evidently wondering what terrible thing had come among themto torment the waters so. While we were looking, these grave oldanimals, who had doubtless been within sight of human beings before, wheeled slowly and were lost in the long grass which closed over theirbacks, as sea waves cover a victim. But the black bull came farther outfrom his covert, tearing the bank with his hoofs, erecting his tail likea banner, ripping up the earth with his sharp horns, and bellowing adefiance after us, that made me tremble where I stood. Heaven help thematador, whom fate should throw into the path of that terrible creature. 

"The banks of the Guadalquiver are Arcadian, after the prairies arepassed. As we approached the beautiful basin in which the old city ofSeville is built, villas and country houses were seen here and therealong the shores; clumps of gnarled old olive trees wound down to thewater; orange and citron trees in full blossom, and fruit, perfumed theair; sometimes a single tree stood out alone large and symmetrical as aNew England pear tree; then whole orchards sloped down to the river, with great golden piles of fruit heaped on the grass underneath, and theblossoms showering down so thickly, that it seemed as if a squall ofsnow must have swept by only an hour before. I think in the whole world, there cannot be found trees so large, so perfect, and so vivid in theirgreenness, as those we saw in the orange orchards, just before we camein sight of Seville. How I longed to go ashore and bathe myself in theirperfume, and taste their delicious fruit!

"James Harrington was standing near, and he too must have felt theinfluence of all that subdued me; for the scent of the orange blossomsswept over us both, the rich amber-hued waves of the river whispered thesame music to him that I had listened to. We had conversed butlittle, --a climate like this induces reverie, rather than speech; allthe sensibilities of one's nature exert themselves unconsciously, aharsh word or bitter thought would melt into forgiveness, before eithercould be spoken. Was he affected in this way? I cannot tell; my heartdeceives me if there was not unusual tenderness in his voice, a tremoras if he feared to say what my heart paused to gather in. I dared notlook at him. In my soul there lay thoughts he might shrink from reading, and I should perish with shame if he but guessed that they existed. "

CHAPTER XL. 

THE MANOEUVRING MOTHER. 

"We come in sight of Seville, the high tower of the Giralda, cuttingagainst the blue of the sky, first won my attention; then a portion ofthe old city came in view, backed by one of the finest cathedrals in theworld. 

"It was just before holy week; the steamboat brought many passengersfrom Cadiz, who had come to witness the ceremonies in this the secondcity of Spain. 

"Many persons, mostly ladies, were on the shore when our boat came up toits landing place. Dressed in their light flowing muslins and lacemantillas, they had a picturesque appearance quite in harmony with theplace. The moment we came in sight, a hundred pretty hands gave outsignals of welcome from the twinkle of their delicate fingers. There wasno bustle, no confusion, but a world of welcoming smiles, and softmurmuring words, which would have filled me with a sense of loneliness, had not all that I loved been close by. How could I miss those wreathingwelcomes, when the wealth of my whole existence went with me?

"'You are pleased. You like Seville. I can read it in your face. '

"He had not spoken to me during the last ten minutes, and I started fromthe dreaming observation into which I had fallen, to answer him. 

"'I was wondering if all the world could produce another spot morelovely. '

"'And I was thinking pretty much the same thing. In a scene like thisthe hard cares of life seem impossible. It is a place to live, love, anddie in. '

"I could not answer him. Indeed, his words were spoken so dreamily thatthey required no response. 

"We were on shore then, waiting for General and Mrs. Harrington. TheEatons joined us, full of some important intelligence, which I saw theelder lady was dying to communicate. 

"'I told you so--never was mistaken in my life, ' she whispered. 'Thecaptain speaks French almost as well as I do. '

"To have saved my life I could not have helped smiling. The woman hadgiven me a specimen of her French that day, and I could imagine howperfect any information must be conveyed to her in that language. 

"'I asked him who the gentleman was, and he told me he was the greatestman in Seville, just then. No wonder I admired him--all the ladies did, not excepting the Infanta herself, who would present him with a goldenkey next week, in token of her high appreciation! She must be somemember of the royal family--master of the wardrobe, I suppose, by thekey. They never give such offices to anything less than a duke, youknow. '

"The little woman was all in a flutter of excitement. Again she made amotion that I should bend my head to listen. 

"'Would I oblige her and ride or walk with Mr. James. She would ratherthat the duke should not see Lucy with him just now. He might understandan engagement, and the Spaniards were so proud and particular. That wasa good soul! She could trust me with all her little secrets. '

"The silly thing did not dream how willing I was to oblige her, butGeneral Harrington broke up our plans. He had engaged a carriage, andcalled on me to get in with Mrs. Harrington. My maid was already seatedthere, so James walked to the shore alone. The Eatons had their way, forhe did not offer to go with them. They lingered at the landing till theduke drove off. Mrs. Eaton told me that he had absolutely waved a kissto Lucy from his carriage window. Of course it was not returned, 'butstraws show where the wind lies, ' she said. 'So many people told usbefore we came away, that we ought to look higher for a girl like ourLucy. I wonder if a duke would meet the ideas of our friends. '

"The woman's fussy vanity wearied me--so puerile, so ridiculous, yetthere was a sting in it. Look higher for their daughter! Higher thanwhom? But why should I let the talk of this silly woman annoy me? Thedaughter is wonderfully beautiful, but what of that? Still I have heardit said that the most brilliant men often choose such women for theirwives. There is repose in this companionship it is said, and so it maybe for a time, but men do not live for repose. When a man wants rest forhis intellect, let him sleep, not marry a pretty idiot. 

"Dear, dear! how bitter I am becoming! How unhappy I am! What possessesme to think of this poor girl as an enemy? Is it because he took her tothe cathedral yesterday and left me to General Harrington. 

"We went to the cathedral again this morning. I saw General Harringtontalking earnestly with James just before we started. He seemed a littleangry. I could not hear a word, but they both looked towards me, and Isaw the blood rush into James' face when he saw that I was regardingthem. He hesitated a moment after the General left him, and advanced astep towards me, then wheeled suddenly and went away. A few minutesafter I saw him walking towards the cathedral with Lucy Eaton. Wefollowed them after a little, General Harrington observing, with alaugh, that we must give the young people their chances. "

CHAPTER XLI. 

THE CATHEDRAL AT SEVILLE. 

"The cathedral was magnificent. All its rich properties in velvets, silver and gold, had been brought forth for its adornment. The altar wasone blaze of light--tapers of snow-white wax rose in crowds from goldencandlesticks, garlanded with flowers which sent their sweetness throughthe pungent smoke of the censers, and clothed the altar with a sacredwhiteness. Reliquaires flaming with jewels, flashed out through all thisnoonday splendor, and two enormous tapers, six feet high, stood likesentinels on each side the altar. Yet all this was insufficient to lightup the vast edifice or penetrate the chapels in the side aisles. Hereall was shadowy and full of religious gloom, where any weary soul mightpray in solitude, notwithstanding the priests were saying high mass atthe great altar, and a grand choir of fresh, young voices filled thewhole edifice with music which seemed born of Heaven. 

"The gloom along the centre of the building was heightened by draperiesof warm crimson velvet, which, banded at each seam with gold, swept downthe vast stone pillars and fell in massive folds over the great entrancedoors. 

"I could not understand all that was said, for the service was in Latin, but I did feel the solemn swell of the music in every fibre of my being, and the devotional feeling which impressed the crowd touched me withholy sympathy. 

"I do not know what caused the impulse, but Mrs. Harrington took my handtenderly in hers. Then we stole to a side altar gleaming snow-whitethrough the shadows, and kneeling down together asked that help andblessing from God which both of us thirsted for. The whispered prayerswe uttered that solemn hour, undoubtedly sanctified a friendship whichhas been growing deeper and stronger from the first hour of my meetingwith this lovely woman. She wept that day, and I saw, for the firsttime, that under her soft and gentle exterior, lay feelings and passionswhich the world would never dream of. 

"I did not appear to notice the singular emotion she betrayed at thataltar, but it recurred to me afterwards, and my mind was filled withconjectures about its cause. Surely it could not be her husband. Nohuman being was ever more attentive and kind to a wife than GeneralHarrington was to his. There was something almost chivalric in hisdevotion to her wishes. Was it her son? There my heart stood still. Withonly these near relatives in the world, she could have no grief whichdid not relate to them or one of them at least. 

"That night Mrs. Harrington came into my room, which opened upon thesame verandah with her own. She sat down on the sofa I occupied, andbegan to talk to me of the ceremonies we had witnessed that day in thecathedral. From that she glided gradually to other subjects, and dweltwith a touch of sadness on the impolicy of early marriages. 'Her own, 'she said, 'had been a happy one, and she had married at sixteen; but asa general thing she would advise no girl to undertake the cares ofdomestic life under two or three and twenty. Particularly she would urgethis on me. With no mother to guide me in a choice, with money enoughto invite venal offers, I was, she thought, liable to peculiartemptations. Besides, ' she added sweetly, 'I have no daughter, and cravea little of your life, for there will come a time when I shall be verylonely. '

"I did not ask her when that time would be, or to whom it related, butsat still, mute and cold. Was James Harrington engaged? I thought ofMrs. Eaton's vague speeches regarding him, of her daughter's blushes andHarrington's attention to her that day when I seemed utterly forgotten. Was the kind lady preparing me? Had she seen my weakness! Heavens, howmy heart burned within me that I had so betrayed myself to this delicateand high-minded woman, his mother too. Wounded pride made me courageous. I would answer carelessly. She should never know that I had been mutefrom want of speech. I arose from the sofa and drank a glass of water, eagerly, for it seemed as if I must strangle. Then I said with a laugh, "'You have something to tell me. Who is it that is likely to enter intoan early marriage! certainly it is not me. '

"'No indeed, I have little fear of that, but they have been forcing thesubject on me since I came home. Why cannot people allow a family torest in peace. I have never seen that he cared so much for the girl. '

"'Of whom are you speaking?' I asked. 

"'Of my son and Miss Eaton. '

"'Is he then engaged to her?'

"'I do not understand it, but the General seems confident that it willsoon come about. The Eatons are enormously wealthy, you know, and Lucyis an only child. '

"'But what of that? There is no need that Mr. Harrington should make amercenary marriage. Are not you rich, and is not he an only son?'

"'Why how sharply you speak, Mabel. I never observed your voice soshrill before, ' exclaimed the lady, lifting up her two delicate hands asif to ward off a disagreeable sound. 'Upon my word I think we are allgetting cross. When I told the General how much better I should likeyou, --that is, how much better I did like you than that pretty thingwith the blue eyes, he asked me if I was willing to betray the youngcreature thrown into our protection, by giving her wealth into the handsof my own son, whom I knew--'

"She checked herself and turned her face from me like a guilty child. 

"'When you knew that he did not like me?' I questioned, controllingmyself. 

"'No, no, he did not say that. Who could help liking you, Mabel? It waslove he was talking about. She said it would be treacherous to let himentangle you for your money, when I was sure that he looked upon youonly as a sister. I said that we were not sure of that by any means. Indeed, sometimes it had seemed to me--Oh Mabel, how wild you look. Idid not say a thing to wound your delicacy. There is not a lady in theland who might not be proud of any preference James Harrington can give. I only thought that General Harrington was mistaken. As for my Jamesliking or marrying anybody for her money, the idea made me quite besidemyself. It is not often that I get out of temper, but this really mademe angry. '

"'No wonder, ' I said, 'It was unkind indeed in the General to speak ofme in that way. '

"'No, no, you quite misunderstand again. General Harrington is incapableof unkindness. As for indelicacy, a more perfect gentleman never lived. His sensitive honor was touched. You are his ward, beautiful, young, rich. James is his step-son, without a dollar of his own, whollydependent on the General--'

"'But I thought the property came from his father. ' I said this soabruptly that it brought the color into Mrs. Harrington's face, and sentthe hot blood into my own. 

"'So it did, but my husband loved me dearly, and in his will gave everydollar to me; knowing, he said, that I would be generous with our onlychild; and so I have been, Mabel. The General is liberal to a fault. James never wants for money. '

"'But he is a man now, and dependence must be irksome. '

"'Oh, he is not dependent; that feeling is impossible with a man likethe General. James knows well enough that the whole property will be hiswhen my husband has done with it--that is made sure in my will; firstthe General, then my son. I should be a wretched woman else. '

"'I am sure you will do right in the end, ' I said. 

"'I had thought at one time that the property was so large and hadincreased so much in value, that it would be well to divide it and giveJames half; but the General fancied that it might take him too much awayfrom us--that he might get to speculate or want to go into business, --athing none of the Harringtons ever had stooped to, and we decided to putit off. James felt a little hurt, I know, but it was all for his owngood, and because his society is so dear to us. '

"I think the woman was in earnest, and had no idea how unjust she seemedin thus withholding the natural inheritance of her son, in behalf of theman she had married. The whole thing disturbed me, all the more becauseI dared not speak out the revolt of my own feelings. Mrs. Harrington sawthis in my face, I dare say, and began to apologise about troubling mewith family matters. 

"'Here, I came to have a little chat about that girl Lucy, and we havebranched off into discussions on money, the last thing on earth that Iever care to think about, ' she said. 'Now tell me, do you think that sheis so very pretty?'

"'Yes, ' I answered, 'very pretty. I have seldom seen anything moredelicately beautiful. '

"I spoke the truth, in spite of all the bitter feelings which the fewlast days had engendered. That girl's beauty was so patent that evenprejudice must acknowledge it. Nay, in my determination to be just, herperfections were perhaps a little exaggerated. 

"'There, I think you are wrong, Mabel. I have seen fifty prettier girlseven of her own type--necks like lilies, cheeks like the lip of a seashell, and golden hair. But I like coloring, depth, richness. Now in myestimation you are fifty times more beautiful than Lucy Eaton, and Iknow James thinks so in spite of the General's belief about that girl. '

"'Oh, Mrs. Harrington, how partial and how kind you are. '

"'Well, I should like to have any one look at you now, and say if I amwrong. Why, no peach was ever so richly crimsoned as your cheeks thismoment, and as for the eyes, Mabel, you have splendid eyes! That was thefirst thing James told me when I asked about you; 'purplish gray, ' hesaid, with such curling lashes, their glance is something to rememberwhen she looks up. '

"'Did Mr. Harrington say this?'

"'Indeed he did, and a great deal more. Upon my word, Mabel, I think hewas taken with you then. '

"'I am sure you are mistaken. We scarcely exchanged a dozen words. '

"'But James has his eyes. '

"'I must not trust my ears when you flatter so sweetly, ' I said. 

"'Well, the truth is, Mabel, I am a little disappointed. My heart, I mayas well own it, was set on having you for a daughter-in-law, and I wontbelieve it quite impossible yet. General Harrington is so nice in hissense of honor, but women care nothing about business, and the idea ofrefusing a noble young fellow because you have money, is justridiculous, especially as my son will have plenty by and by, don't youthink so. '

"'It would be where love existed, certainly, ' I answered, ready to castmyself into this woman's arms, and tell her all that was stirring in myheart. 

"'Ah, it is a pity that you could not have fancied him, ' she answered, 'seeing it would have saved him from this choice which GeneralHarrington approves so much; but I cannot believe it yet. '

"'But the General should know. '

"'I hope not, I hope not. The truth is, dear, I never could like thegirl, and as for her mother, the very idea of a connection with hermakes me shiver. '

"'She certainly is not a pleasant woman, ' I said. 

"'Pleasant! but we will not talk of her. Mercy! that is her voice, letme escape. '"

CHAPTER XLII. 

A DUKE IN THE HOUSE. 

"Mrs. Harrington gathered up the cloud-like drapery of her white dress, and glided out of the room. She was certainly a lovely woman, sweet andgentle as a child, with nerve and energy, too, as I afterwards foundout; but that night she had wounded me terribly, and I was glad to seeher go. 

"I sat down on the couch when quite alone, and covering my face withboth hands, struggled hard to free the tears that weighed down my heart. It seemed that some wrong had been done me, --that the whole Harringtonfamily was in league to break up my life before it had really commenced. But I could not shed a tear, a keen sense of shame kept me from therelief of weeping. Shame that I, a young girl, should suffer thus from aknowledge of another's happiness. Yes, I was bitterly ashamed, and shutmy face out from the mirror before me, afraid to look upon my ownhumiliation. Did they know it? Had that aristocratic old man guessed atmy weakness, and sent his wife there to convince me how hopeless it was?Not directly--not in any way that she could recognise as a mission; thatwas impossible to a woman so sensitive, but was she not the unconsciousinstrument of his keener penetration?

"While I was tormenting myself with these fears, Mrs. Eaton came in, swinging her lilac parasol, and with her rich lace shawl trailing to theground. 

"'Oh, I have come to tell you one must have confidence in some persons, or the heart would give out, you know. Guess who it was that Lucy and Imet in the Court of Oranges, just now. '

"'I cannot tell. Mr. Harrington, perhaps!'

"'Mr. Harrington, no indeed. We can meet him at any time. It was hisHighness, the duke, walking quite alone, under the orange trees, with aslender little cane in his hand, that he was beating the branches with, all in a brown study, showering down the blossoms among his goldbuttons--so romantic--and in his glossy hair. Lucy gave a little screamwhen she saw him, and clasped her hands so. The duke gave a start andcame toward us, then checked himself and begged pardon in such deliciousSpanish, only we couldn't quite understand it. He saw that, and broke atwig of orange blossoms from one of the branches bending over him, andgave it to Lucy with an air--I cannot describe it--but you never sawanything so princely. Lucy blushed beautifully, and fastened the orangeblossoms in her bosom. He smiled then, and gave her _such_ a look. Thereis no two ways about it, Miss Crawford, that girl of mine was born towear the purple. Her head is just the size for a coronet. Why not? Theempress Josephine was no handsomer than my Lucy. As for family, who hasgot anything to say against any genteel American family being goodenough to marry dukes, and emperors too, providing they've got moneyenough?'

"The woman tired me dreadfully. I was too wretched for any enjoyment ofher absurdities, or they might have amused me. I answered her withcivility, and tried my best to fasten some attention on the ridiculousthings she was saying, but an under current of painful thought disturbedme all the while. 

"'Now I tell you this in the strictest confidence, remember, ' she wenton to say. 'I must have some one to rely upon; but not a word to theHarringtons. You know the old adage, 'It's well to be off with an oldlove, before you are on with a new. ' Promise not to say a word about it, Miss Crawford. '

"'I shall not speak--I shall not care to speak to any one about it, ' Ianswered almost impatiently, I fear, for the woman was tormenting mebeyond endurance. 

"'But I did not tell you all. When we came home it happened, I reallycan't tell how, that the duke moved along with us, and when we got tothe hotel I could not avoid asking him in. He understood my Spanishsplendidly, and when Lucy ventured on a few words, seemed perfectlydelighted. Miss Crawford, say nothing about it, but he's in there now. '

"'What, with Miss Eaton?'

"'Yes, he's there talking to her. I don't suppose she can make out allhe says, but some people talk with their eyes, you know. Whatmagnificent eyes he has. Did you notice, Miss Crawford?'

"'No, I did not observe. '

"'But he has. Well, good night. I mustn't stay out too long. Remember, not a word to any human being. '

"With a sensation of relief I saw this silly woman leave the room. Whyshould she come there to mingle so much of contempt with the pain I wassuffering! _Can_ this be true?

"How many times during the night I asked myself this question! Each timemy heart turned away humiliated and wounded. I did not sleep, I couldnot. All the pride of my nature was up in arms. Why did she drag up thisquestion of money? Are such things to render every sentiment of the soulcoarse and earthy, by mingling with them as the better element? Whatwild thoughts came over me as I lay awake that long night! How Ireasoned for and against the thing I dreaded. With what keen scrutiny Icriticised every word and look of his during our acquaintance!"

CHAPTER XLIII. 

HOPES AND PERSUASIONS. 

"In the morning my head and heart both ached with the strain of thoughtwhich had racked them so piteously. I shrank nervously from appearingbefore any of my tormentors. But they came to my door, wondering whatkept me so late. There was to be a splendid religious procession thatday. All the churches of Seville were to send forth their imagedMadonnas in great splendor, with attending priests, that theirworshipers might see them by broad daylight. Great preparations had beenmade on this occasion, for one Madonna of wonderful potency was to bebrought forth from her convent for the first time in ninety years. Theconvent Montes Serat being one of most holy repute, and at a distancefrom the city, had not, for nearly a century, joined in the processionof the holy week; but now its famous Madonna was coming forth from hersacred privacy, rich in the gifts of her votaries, resplendent with thejewels which attested her superior sanctity. 

"The advent of no crowned monarch into his capital ever produced agreater sensation than this coming of our Lady of Montes Serat. It awokea strong spirit of rivalry in all the churches of Seville. Fair devoteesemptied their jewel cases in behalf of their favorite Madonnas--nothingwas withheld which female pride could bestow on the object of itsreligious idolatry. So, for a time, all Seville was in a tumult ofambitious rivalry, and out of this was sure to come the most brilliantday of the holy week. I had not cared to go to this exhibition, butGeneral Harrington had secured a balcony overlooking that of the Infantaand her suite. It was to be a splendid procession, they said, and Ishould regret it forever if they permitted me to remain at home. 

"I found it easier to submit than to contend, but still hesitated, whenJames Harrington came up to the verandah where we were sitting, andleaning over my chair, whispered a request that I should go. His mannerwas almost caressing, and there thrilled through his voice such genuineanxiety, that I could hardly suppress the quick leaping of my heart, orspeak at first, it throbbed so loudly. The rest had left us and we werealone. 

"'Do go! It seems an age since I have seen you except in a crowd, ' hesaid, drawing a chair to mine. 

"'But this will be a crowd, also!'

"'Not for us. '

"I looked up suddenly and felt the warm crimson leap to my face, when myeyes met his. 

"'Let us be happy this once, ' he said, 'the crowd itself will be wellworth seeing. Besides, the Infanta will be there, with her husband, LeDuc de Montpensier. Then remember that the Princess Clementina, wife ofthe Prince of Saxe Coburg will be of the party, --quite a nest ofroyalty, you will find; just the persons that I for one should like tosee. '

"'And so would I. My heart always warms toward the children of that goodman, Louis Philippe, ' I answered. 

"'Then you will go?'

"'Yes, I will certainly go; the promise of seeing all these interestingpersons makes me almost impatient. '

"'Ah, how bright you look; we shall have a pleasant day. Mother isgetting ready. She seems to be feeling young as a girl. Did you ever seeany one change as she has since we came to Seville?'

"'The General was speaking of it this morning, ' I replied. 'She is sowell and happy, ' he said, 'that I can hardly think of moving yet. Thevery air of Seville carries balm with it. '

"Harrington turned away and walked to a window, as if I had saidsomething to disturb him. After a little he came back again with the airof a man who had flung aside some unpleasant burden, and began to talkof the country we were in. 

"'What a calm, delicious climate it is, ' he said, 'I wonder people canget angry or very much in earnest here. For myself this country lifeseems like floating at will on some lake, with scarcely air enough tostir a sail, or ripple foam wreaths around the prow of one's boat; thevery breath we draw is a luxury. '

"'A sad one sometimes, ' I answered, 'the very solitude and repose whichsteal over one, enfeebles the spirit and makes life too harmonious forimprovement either of the mind or heart. Continued life in a place likethis, would rob an American of his last attribute, --a love ofprogression. Rest and sensuous enjoyment were not intended for a peoplelike us. Yet the place is so lovely, I feel like a traitor while sayingthis. '

"He looked at me with unconscious earnestness, sighed gently and pacedthe room once or twice before he resumed the subject. 

"'You are right; a soul worth having would never content itself with thedrowsy sweetness of a life like this. After all, the great glory ofexistence lies in action. '

"'And the greatest happiness;' I answered, with a dreamy sense of theinaction to which I, as a woman, was forever consigned. 

"'You speak with the feeling of a man, shut out from his proper career, 'he said, 'there, I think you and I can have sympathy; only the life of awoman should be restful, and full of love. '

"'And I of a man?' I questioned. 

"'You must not ask that question of a man shut out from action, and--andeven from the woman's privilege of loving. '

"What was there in my expression that changed his so instantly? Could hediscover in my eyes the brightness that had come over me with the soundof his voice, tender and impressive as it had been that day among thewater lilies? I do not know, but in a moment a cloud crept over hisface, and a chill into his voice. 

"'Excuse me, if I have pressed you over much, ' he said. 'But it is alovely day and the procession will be well worth seeing. If it would notbe considered sacrilegious among so many good Catholics, I should say, there would be a rivalry among the Madonnas. You will go?'

"'Yes, ' I answered, sinking into depression again, 'as well there ashere. Who will be of our party?'

"'Oh, the General, and my mother, of course, with the Eatons. That willbe enough to fill the balcony. '

"I felt the blood growing warm in my cheeks. Why must those Eatonsforever compose a portion of our party? Could no one see how I detestedthis eternal companionship with persons who had not a single idea orprinciple in common with us?

"Just then Miss Eaton came into the balcony--her transparent muslindress looped up at the sleeves and throat with delicate blue ribbons, floating like a cloud around her, and a wreath of forget-me-notsrelieving the snow-white chip of her bonnet. Her parasol was frostedover with soft Brussels lace, and a better dressed or more beautifulcreature I have seldom set my eyes upon. James Harrington left my chairthe moment she appeared. Taking the parasol from her hand, he commencedplaying with it as he conversed with her, lightly, carelessly, and withsuch smiles as he had not given me in many a long day. 

"At times one gets in love with pain, to abridge it seems likecowardice. What mattered it whether I suffered a little more or less, since suffering was so early become my destiny? This girl, with herbright beauty and soft words, superseded me every where; yet she did notseem to prize the homage for which I famished, but stood there, smilingup in his face, and dropping a sweet word now and then, carelessly, asshe would have given sugar to a parrot. "

CHAPTER XLIV. 

THE INFANTA AND HER GUESTS. 

"I went into my room and threw a world of bitter energy into my toilet, angry with myself for not being beautiful enough to win one heart fromthat pretty face, angry with him that he could not understand the depthof feeling and of thought which made my preference so much more worthythan anything that young creature could ever feel. I had a cruelpleasure in depreciating myself, and almost hated the face which lookedinto mine half angrily from the glass. Its large gray eyes, with theirthick lashes, seemed heavy with unshed tears. There was a frown on theforehead, rendering it dark and turbulent. The mouth harmonized withthis stormy look, and trembled into half sarcastic smiles, as if eachfeature reviled the other. Now I was larger, taller, more pronounced inface and person than the pretty fairy who could entertain him soflippantly, while I sat dumb and silent in his presence. No wonder Ihated myself, yet many persons had thought me good looking, and I couldrecollect a thousand compliments on my talents and powers of pleasing, which came to me then like remembered mockeries. 

"I made no effort to look beautiful, but over my simple white dressthrew a lace mantilla, fastening it to my head with clusters of tearoses, and allowing it to sweep over my person, black and shadowy, likethe thoughts that haunted my mind. This was a common dress among theSpanish ladies, and I put it on that day for the first time, thinking toescape the observation that a foreign costume was sure to provoke. MissEaton gave an exclamation of delight when I went down to the parlor. Ifany thing could inspire her to enthusiasm it was a novelty in dress. 

"'Oh, how charming! And you have turned Spaniard, ' she said, claspingher little hands and examining me from head to foot, in a sort ofrapture. 'Ain't she splendid, Mr. Harrington! Those crimson roses looksuperb in the black lace. I am sick of my bonnet. Just hold my parasolwhile I make myself a senorita also. '

"She ran out of the room, snatching some orange blossoms from a vase asshe went, and sending back soft gushes of an opera song to us. 

"'What a light-hearted creature she is, ' said Harrington, watching herwith admiring eyes as she floated off. 'A lovely face, don't you thinkso?'

"'Yes, I think so, a very lovely face. '

"Perhaps some of the bitterness in my heart found its way through myvoice. Something there was which disturbed James Harrington. He turnedand looked at me keenly, seemed about to make some reply, but checkedhimself and began to play with the coral handle of Lucy's parasol. Directly, Lucy Eaton came back more like a summer cloud than ever, forover her head she had thrown a veil of Brussels point, delicate as amist, and white as frost. But for her canary colored gloves and blueribbons, she would have appeared in absolute bridal costume, for she hadtwisted the orange blossoms into a pretty garland which held the veil ormantilla over her head, and was blushing like a rose with a sense of herown completeness. 

"We started for the public square through which the procession was topass. The streets were full of people, men, women, and children, all intheir richest costume, and brilliant with expectation. Every woman hadthe national fall of lace on her head, almost invariably fastened withclusters of natural roses; some of these mantillas were marvels ofcostly work, and fell shadow-like over those soft summer dresses, givingthem a graceful and cloud-like lightness. All Seville was on foot, nocarriages are permitted in the street during the holy week. Poor andrich were, for the time, on a perfect level, and each came forth welldressed and radiant, to honor the most interesting spectacle known tothe nation. It was like looking down on an out door opera when weentered the queint stone balcony reserved for us, with fresh palm leavesinterwoven in the carved work, and cushioned chairs waiting for ouroccupation. No flower garden was ever more radiant and blooming. Hundreds of colored parasols swayed towards the sun like mammothpoppies, gay fans kept the air in perpetual motion. Pretty white handstwinkled recognition from friend to friend; floating lace gave acloud-like softness to the whole scene, indescribably beautiful. All waseagerness and gay commotion. On the outskirts of the square, horsemenwith arms at their sides, were stationed like statues. The balconieswere hung with gorgeously tinted draperies, crowded with beautiful womenand garlanded with flowers. 

"One balcony, more spacious than the rest, was richly ornamented withdraperies of crimson velvet falling from a gilded crown over head, anddrawn back by cords of heavy bullion. A flight of steps led to thisbalcony from the street, and altogether it had a look of regalmagnificence which drew the general attention that way. 

"While we were occupied with this novel scene, a hum and murmur ofvoices drew the general attention toward one of the principal streetsentering the square. This was followed by a general commotion in thecrowd, through which a murmur, like that of hiving bees, ran to and fro;ladies stood up, parasols swayed confusedly, expectation was in everyface. 

"Directly the cause of all this excitement became apparent. The Infantahad entered the square, and was approaching the royal balcony. She was alovely woman, very young and in the full bloom of her beauty, dark-eyed, dark-haired, well formed, and carrying herself with queenly dignity, which it is said the sovereign herself does not equal. The slantingsunbeams fell directly upon her as she passed by our balcony in fullstate; the train of her dress, blue as the sky, and looped with clustersof pink roses, was carried by four noblemen, all richly attired, as ifthe street had been some palace hall. Her dress was looped back at theshoulders with aigrette of diamonds, whose pendent sparks dropped halfway to the elbow, quivering like fire from beneath the long whitemantilla that swept over her person as sweeps the blue of a summer sky. The veil was fastened to her graceful head by a tiara of the same puregems, which twinkled through it like starlight on frost. Her walk wasqueenly, her look full of sweet womanliness. They tell me she isprettier and more popular than the queen, and I can readily believe it, for this young creature is very lovely. 

"The steps of the royal balcony descended directly to the pavement. TheInfanta mounted them, gliding upward with the grace of a bird ofparadise, followed by her train-bearers. Directly after she was seated, the balcony filled from a room beyond it, into which the royal party hadassembled. Le Duc de Montpensier, his sister, Princess Clementina, andher husband, the Duke of Saxe Coburg, the cousin of Prince Albert ofEngland, and two or three pretty children, mingled with the group, giving it a domestic grace pleasant to contemplate. "

CHAPTER XLV. 

THE PROCESSION OF THE MADONNAS. 

"Now the procession commenced. Lines of solemn monks, with their graygowns fastened at the waist with rope girdles, came out of theirmonasteries and reverently followed the particular Madonna worshipped bytheir order, as she was carried around, standing on a platform carpetedwith velvet, dressed sumptuously, like a woman of the world. Some ofthese Madonnas were covered with jewels richer and in greater profusionthan those worn by the Infanta herself. One, our Lady of Montes Serat, was elevated on a platform ten feet long, carried by eight stalwartpriests. The platform was carpeted with crimson velvet, ornamented atthe sides with heavy bullion fringe. Her black velvet robe was studdedwith diamonds over the whole length of its ample and flowing train. Thisswept back to the verge of the platform in heavy folds, while adown thefront was one maze of jewels, covering the velvet so thickly that youcould scarcely see it. A mantilla of such lace as cannot be bought forgold, fell over her shoulders, and in her stiff hand she carried amarvel of point lace which, with a living person, would have answeredfor a pocket handkerchief. 

"Six tall tapers of white wax shed their refulgence over the image, lighting up all its wealth of jewels, and its sweeping draperies intowonderful magnificence. The platform was strewn with garlands andfreshly gathered roses, which perfumed the air as she passed throughthousands and thousands who looked upon her with smiles of wonder andadoration. 

"Just as this particular Madonna came slowly in sight, a glorious sunsetpoured its last beams upon us, filling the square with an atmosphere ofsifted gold. In the midst of this refulgence, and just as our Lady ofMontes Serat was approaching the royal balcony, a strange scenesurprised us. 

"The worshipers of a rival Madonna, composed of priests in sweepingrobes that trailed along the street some ten or fifteen feet, and tallcaps, like extinguishers, on the head--crowded so close upon our Lady ofMontes Serat, that the whole procession was thrown into confusion. Onepriest trod on the trailing garments of another, forcing him backagainst his brethren. Bitter rivalry between the followers of bothMadonnas was at work. The two images were crowded together and hustledbefore the balcony in which the Infanta sat, surrounded by her royalguests; but the priests still in confusion broke line and fell upon eachother, dealing blows that might have come from prize-fighters. The guardtook alarm, swords flashed from their scabbards. A wild cry arose fromthe crowd. The tornado of a great panic swept over it, and while welooked on terrified, a cloud of dust, a few troopers riding madly aboutwith drawn swords, and the rival Madonnas, standing stiff and statelybefore the Infanta's balcony, were all that remained of the crowd, orthe pageant. 

"The square was empty, but every street leading to it was closed up withfrightened people. The Infanta arose, knelt first to one virgin, thento the other, with impartial homage, and one of her officers gave someorder from a window of the house. Instantly every lamp in the squareblazed into brilliant light, and the people came crowding back rapidlyas they had left. The priests fell into line, and the Infanta, sweepingdown those balcony steps with her four train bearers, placed herself infront of our Lady of Montes Serat, and led the procession forward in herown person. 

"When the panic was at its height, and the rush of people underneath ourbalcony was like a stampede of wild animals, I felt myself growingfaint, and looked around for something to rest against. That instant anarm supported me and a voice whispered, 'Do not be frightened, you aresafe. '

"I started from his arms lest he should feel the quick beating of myheart, and replied quickly that I was not afraid. 

"He left me then, and I could have cried with vexation at receiving hiskindness so ungraciously. What must he think of me?

"While I was blaming myself and wondering how I could redeem thisseeming coolness, Mrs. Eaton called James Harrington into the room fromwhich our balcony opened, where she held an animated conversation withhim. Lucy remained behind. I noticed that she leaned over the railingand seemed anxious about some one who had evidently been swept off withthe crowd, which was then gathering back to the square. Directly I sawher face brighten, and looking downward for the cause saw the young manwhom we had met on the steamboat, leaning against a lamp post andlooking up to our balcony in an easy, familiar way, that annoyed me. Still I could not withhold some admiration from the man. He certainlywas a splendid creature, formed in the perfection of manly strength, and quite handsome enough to turn the head of a vain girl like Lucy. 

"I watched the movements of these two persons listlessly, for thefaintness had not quite left me, and they seemed to me like creatures ina dream. I saw Lucy take a note from her bosom and tie it to a spray oforange blossoms which she had been wearing there. This she held a momentcarefully in her hands, then leaning over the railing dropped it. 

"Had her mother called James Harrington away, that Lucy might be leftunwatched, to give this signal to her strange admirer? All this seemedlike it. How innocent she looked when James came back to the balcony! Nosunshine ever touched a red rose more sweetly than the smile settled onher lips when he came and bent over her chair. "

CHAPTER XLVI. 

WHERE WE SAW THE DUKE. 

"The Holy Week is over, carriages once more appear in the streets. Theworld claims its own again. I have been to a bull fight and am even nowshivering with disgust of myself. Still, it was a magnificentspectacle--that grand amphitheatre of beautiful faces, the hilarity andgay confusion, the open homage, the child-like enjoyment. Until thesewild, brave animals came bounding into the arena, there was nothing inthe scene which any out-door amusement might not exhibit. Indeed, thegathering of an assembly in Spain is full of spirited life. If a womanis beautiful, a hundred voices tell her so as she presents herself tothe general gaze. When our party entered the amphitheatre, a generalmurmur of admiring comments hailed us. Beautiful--superb--fair as alily--bright as an angel! were the exclamations that followed thatlovely creature as she moved to her seat, leaning upon JamesHarrington's arm. No wonder he looked proud of her!

"Mrs. Harrington did not care to see a scene so revolting, and I wouldhave stayed at home gladly, but they refused to hear of it, reason as Imight. It seems as if they were determined to chain me like a slave tothis girl's chariot wheels. Well, I can endure it. There must have beenthousands of persons present, for the great amphitheatre was full longbefore the Infanta appeared with her family and her royal guests. Shewas received with exclamations, and took her seat with a slight bow ofrecognition and a smile full of eloquent thanks for the popular favor sopleasantly manifested. Two or three lovely children were in the box, evidently eager for the fighting to commence. Soon after the Infanta wasseated, a man richly dressed, and of noble presence, strode across thearena, flung his cap on the ground, and made a profound bow to the royalparty. The Infanta arose, leaned a little forward and cast a golden keyat his feet. This key was to unlock the door which connected the arenawith the compartment outside, in which the wild bulls were kept. 

"All this time the man had stood with his back toward us. When hestooped to pick up the key and turned from the presence, Lucy Eatonuttered a faint cry, and her mother caught hold of my arm with a graspthat pained me. 'Oh mercy--oh mercy! It is--it is the Duke, ' sheexclaimed, 'What can he be doing there?'

"'I think it is his place, ' I answered in a low voice. 'Hush, I wouldsay nothing about it. '

"I looked at Lucy. She was white as snow, and her eyes dwelt on the manwith a frightened stare. 

"'Why is he there?' she whispered, shivering perceptibly. 'Tell me, ifyou can, what it means. '

"'What are you inquiring about?' questioned General Harrington, bendingtoward us with suave politeness. 'Anything that I can tell you?'

"'Who is that man?' I inquired, observing that Lucy could not speakwithout bursting into tears. 

"'Which man?'

"'That person in the arena, who was just bowing to the Infanta. '

"'Oh that man? He is the chief matadore. The best bull-fighter in allSpain. '

"'A matadore, a bull fighter!' almost shrieked Mrs. Eaton, turning uponher daughter and snatching a moss rose from her bosom where it held thefolds of her muslin dress together. 'Fling it away, child. Pitch itafter him. The humbug--the impostor--the--the--'

"Here the good woman broke down for want of breath, and rattled her fanopen with a vicious twist of the hand, as if she longed to box someone's ears with it. 

"I saw that Lucy was troubled and that her lips were quivering. GeneralHarrington had turned his attention to the arena, for that moment thematadore was crossing towards a door in the wall, and the first wildbull was expected momentarily. He was so absorbed that he did not heedMrs. Eaton's angry exclamations, though her husband did. 

"'What is the matter, mother. Why, you will smash that fan to flinders;it cost--'

"'No matter how much it cost, ' said Mrs. Eaton; 'I don't think theseSpaniards care about that, or anything else but cheating the very eyesout of your head. The impostors!'

"'Why, who has been cheating us, mother?'

"'Never you mind. Oh mercy!'

"Lucy, too, gave a faint scream and clung to me like a frightened child. No wonder. That instant a door in the wall swung open, and a black bullrushed through. With a bound or more he plunged into the heart of thearena, tossed his head upwards, and stood motionless surveying the greatconcourse of people with his flaming eyes, as if making up his mindwhere to plunge first. 

"A shout followed his appearance, for he was a beautiful savagecreature, with a superb chest and head, black and glossy as a raven. Ladies clapped their hands and waved their gossamer handkerchiefs inwild enthusiasm, while the general shout rolled upward like thunder. This terrified the creature till he tore up the earth and plunged hitherand thither in his madness, bellowing hoarsely through the tumult, andleveling his horns at the crowd as if he burned to toss every one insight. 

"Then the matadores came in, closely dressed, glittering with embroideryand a profuse display of buttons. One carried a red cloak in his hand, with which he taunted and exasperated the bull into hot rage. Then thecontact commenced. The Matadores, slight, agile and vigilant, fell totormenting the noble creature into new wrath. They flung their cloaksover his eyes, they leaped on his back and away again, pricked him withtheir swords, taunted him from a distance, and, when he made a madplunge upon them, slipped through some secret door in the wall andlaughed at his grave astonishment. 

"Lucy looked on all this, fascinated. Tears stood in her eyes, but aneager curiosity shone through them. 

"'There must be some mistake, ' I heard her murmur. 'He is not amongthem. '

"She was undeceived. The bull had begun to exhaust his rage, histormentors had done their utmost, and the people wanted more excitement. _He_ came in then, splendid as an Apollo, tall, lithe, powerful. Thenfollowed the lightning play of human intelligence and trained strengthagainst savage impulse. The man was everywhere at the same moment. Hissword flashed now here, now there, up and down like a quiver oflightning. He would entice the animal close to him, and just as hisfierce horns were lowered, leap astride his neck, and land, with abound, ten feet away. Now he darted under him, now made a flying leapover his back, cheered on, and accompanied by waving handkerchiefs, eager hands, and bursts of admiring applause. 

"A new feature was added to the scene. Several horses were brought in, blindfolded and old, ridden by inferior matadores. One of these poorcreatures was urged up to the waiting bull, which made a rush at hischest with both horns, tore his way to the vitals, and let the heartout, almost heaving the beast from the earth as those murderous hornsrent their way out of his body. 

"Oh! it was sickening; the smell of the hot blood, the overwhelmingbravos, the exultation of delicate women and innocent children, as theinfuriated bull plunged his horns, reddened to the frontlet, again andagain into that writhing breast. I wish I had never seen it. In fact Icould not see clearly, for every thing grew misty from the sickshuddering that fell upon me. I shivered down in my seat and shut myeyes, degraded and full of self contempt, that any thing should havebrought me to that horrid place. 

"I would have gone home, but the confusion was so great, and the crowdso dense, that I dared not propose it, especially as General Harringtonjoined heartily in the enthusiasm, and would, I feared, resent anyinterruption. 

"So I sat there, with my head bowed and my face covered, loathing myselfand everything around me. A shriek from Lucy Eaton brought me out ofthis state. Starting up, I saw the man she had called a duke, tossedhigh in the air, whence he came to the earth with a crash. This stunnedhim for a moment, but before the bull could follow up its advantage, hesprung to his feet, flung his scarlet cloak over the creature's eyes, and gave the signal for a general attack. 

"Out rushed the matadores in a body, armed with javelins and darts, feathered at the ends with fringes of variegated paper, and sharp assteel at the head. These were hurled at the bull, and as each struckthrough his jetty hide, fire-crackers concealed in the paper ornaments, gave out a storm of noisy fire;--another and another darted through theair, thicker and sharper, till the tortured animal bellowed out hisagony in pathetic helplessness, and fell upon his knees exhausted. Thenthe matadore drew toward the Infanta and seemed waiting for some signal. She smiled, lifted her hand, closing all but the delicate thumb. Thiswas a death signal for the poor brute, who seemed to know that his fatewas coming, and staggered up from his knees ready to fight for the lastbreath of his life. 

"Then commenced a fresh onset of death. The bull fought desperately, staggering, reeling, plunging and making fierce attacks with his horns, while the fire-crackers blazed around him, and a hundred javelinsquivered in his body. The matadore became cool and cautious as hisvictim grew more and more frantic. He played with the creature's agony, flitted here and there in the smoke of his torment, pierced his sideswith the point of his sword, and flung fresh javelins into the bleedingwounds. The Infanta lifted her thumb again. The Matadore saw it. Hissword flashed in the sunbeams like a gleam of fire, fell on the animal'sdripping neck, and he sank to the earth, dead. 

"More of this happened that day; twelve of those splendid beasts werebrought forth to slaughter and be slaughtered one after another. Some, braver than the rest, were sent back alive; but that ornamented sledgedragged off twelve of the finest creatures I ever saw. At last, even theSpanish ladies became weary of this terrible work. As for me, I wenthome sickened, and so nervous I could not rest. "

CHAPTER XLVII. 

MRS. EATON'S TRIBULATION. 

"While I was lying in my room, shocked by the day I had spent, Mrs. Eaton came in, sun-burned, excited, and panting for breath. 'Wasn't it aterrible thing! Such an imposition. To pass himself off for a duke! Ideclare I could kill him. '

"'But did he deceive you?' I asked. 

"'Did he, why of course, the scamp! And poor Lucy liking him so much. She wont believe it now, hardly. He looked so splendid taking up thatkey and swinging his sword about like a Saracen, Lucy says, just totantalize me, when I know exactly what he is. But I come to ask a greatfavor, Miss Crawford. You're the only person that I breathed a word toabout it. Supposing you just keep quiet, now, especially to JamesHarrington. It might do mischief there if you said a word, and I'm sureyou wouldn't want to do that. Only think of a daughter of mine almostfalling in love with one of them matadore fellows. I tell you it makesmy blood boil--but you wont say a word. Poor Lucy would die of shame ifyou did. '

"'I certainly shall not mention the man to any one, ' I answered. 

"'That's a good soul. I was sure we might depend on you. Now I'll go andtell Lucy. She's been crying like a baby ever since we come home. Iwonder if the fellow will have the impudence to follow us again. TheDuke! The impostor, I say, --to look like a nobleman and not be one. '

"How fussy and disagreeable the woman is. But I am too weary for muchthought of her or any thing else indeed, yet I cannot sleep. 

"Mrs. Harrington lay on the low couch which was her favorite restingplace during the day, and I sat beside her reading aloud a new Englishnovel that Miss Eaton had lent me. Presently James came in, and makingme a sign not to stop, sat down near one of the windows, as if to listento the story; but when I glanced at him, I saw by his face that histhoughts were leagues away from any consciousness of the words my voicepronounced. 

"I suppose I had no right to wonder whither his fancies had strayed, butI could not help it; and when I looked at him again, I knew that it wasno idle reverie which had possession of him, but stern, absorbingthought, for his face looked hard and cold as it so often had done oflate. 

"I almost lost the consciousness of what I was reading, in the rush ofodd fancies that came over my mind. My voice must have grown carelessand indistinct, for I heard Mrs. Harrington say:--

"'Don't read any more, Mabel; I am sure you are tired. '

"I felt myself start and color; I colored all the more from annoyance atfeeling my cheeks begin to glow, and I could hear that I answeredconstrainedly:

"'No; I am not tired. '

"'I know by your voice, my dear, ' Mrs. Harrington said with her usualthoughtfulness for others. 'It was selfish in me, I should not haveallowed you to read so long, but I was so interested in the story that Iforgot. '

"I closed the book; it was always very difficult for me to read aloudwith any listener besides herself, but she seemed so troubled at whatshe considered her selfishness, that I said truthfully enough:

"'I did not know that I was tired, it is such a beautiful book that oneforgets everything in the interest of the story. '

"'Yes, indeed, ' Mrs. Harrington said, smelling at a little bouquet ofroses she held in her hand, 'James, ' she called in a louder voice, 'haveyou read it?'

"He started and exclaimed quickly--

"'Did you speak, mother? I beg your pardon, I did not know you weretalking to me. '

"'I only asked if you had read this new novel of Bulwer's, that Mabeland I are so delighted with. '

"'Not yet, ' he replied, settling back in his chair. 

"I could see his face in the mirror; and the effort he made to collecthis thoughts and appear to listen while his mother went on talking aboutthe book, was perfectly plain to me. 

"'You like it, ' he said, absently. 

"'My dear James, ' she exclaimed, laughing in her pleasant, genial way, 'where are your thoughts this morning? I don't believe you have heardone word I was saying. '

"'Oh yes, ' he replied, 'you were saying how much you and Miss Crawfordwere interested in the book. '

"'I had done with that, ' said she, shaking her bouquet at him playfully, 'I was asking you the name of his last work. '

"'Whose? Ah! Bulwer's--I am stupid this morning, I must acknowledge. '

"I was sorry for the sort of embarrassment he displayed--somethingunusual with him, so strong and self-centered, and I mentioned the nameof the romance that had preceded the one we were reading. 

"'Of course, ' said Mrs. Harrington, 'Mabel's memory never fails! Do youknow, James, the faculty she has of retaining names and dates issomething marvellous, especially to poor me, who sometimes can scarcelyrecollect my own age and rightful appellation. 

"'One has the opportunity of admiring so many splendid qualities in MissCrawford, ' he answered, in the distant, ceremonious way which he sooften employed toward me of late. 

"I felt absolutely hurt, silly and childish as it was to care for soslight a thing. I suppose my tell-tale face showed it, for Mrs. Harrington said, teasingly--

"'Really, James, you are very stately and magnificent, this morning!that speech sounded grand and stilted enough to have suited Sir CharlesGrandison. '

"He laughed a little, but it sounded so forced that I wondered Mrs. Harrington did not observe it. 

"'I told you that I was stupid, ' he said, 'so you need not be severe onmy poor attempt at a compliment. '

"'I assure your lordship that Mabel does not care for compliments, 'continued his mother. 'Do you, my pretty Queen Mab?'

"'I think they are a very poor substitute for real kindness betweenfriends, ' I said. 

"I could hear that my voice sounded somewhat irritable, but I could notresist speaking, though the instant after, I could have bitten my tongueoff for showing so plainly any annoyance at his manner and words. Mrs. Harrington did not notice my little ebullition--was it woundedselfishness and pride, I wonder? She took my remark quite as a matter ofcourse. 

"'You are perfectly right, ' she said. 'Please to remember that, masterJames. '

"I saw that he was looking earnestly at me--perhaps he thought that hehad hurt me, but I was determined to make no more silly self betrayals. I forced my face to look indifferent, and sat playing carelessly withthe bronze paper cutter in my hand. 

"'I am sure Miss Crawford knows that I should be only too proud to beacknowledged as her friend, and that I value her intellect too highlyfor an attempt at empty compliments, ' James observed, gravely. 

"'Ah, _viola l'amende honorable_!" laughed Mrs. Harrington. 'Mabel isappeased, and I am content with your explanation. '

"There was a brief silence; I could feel that James was still looking atme, and did not raise my eyes. Mrs. Harrington was playing with herflowers, and when she spoke again had forgotten the whole matter--themerest trifle to her, indeed to anybody possessed of a grain of commonsense, but of so much importance to ridiculous, fanciful me. 

"'This is so perfect a day, ' she said, 'that I think we must go out todrive. Will you go with us, James?'

"'I fear that I shall be unable, ' he replied, 'I have several letters towrite, and the American mail goes out to-day. '

"'Then we will ask Miss Eaton, Mabel, ' said Mrs. Harrington, 'she alwayslikes to go with us. '

"I could have dispensed with this young lady's society, but of course Idid not say so, and I had the decency to be ashamed of my unaccountablefeeling toward her. She was so very beautiful that to anybody lesscaptious than I had grown, even nonsense from such lips as hers wouldhave been more graceful and acceptable than the wisest remark fromalmost any other woman. 

"'I am sorry you can't go, James, ' Mrs. Harrington was saying, when Ihad finished my little mental self-flagellation for all my misdemeanorsand evil thoughts, and could listen to what they were saying. 

"'Are you particularly anxious to have me go with you, this morning, _petite mia_?' James asked, with more animation than he had beforedisplayed. 

"'Indeed I am! I feel babyish to-day, and want to be petted! If youdon't go, I shall think you are beginning to tire of this poor invalidwoman who is so great a trouble to you all. '

"'My mother could never think that, ' he said hastily, rising, and movingclose to her sofa, where he stood gently smoothing her beautiful hairwith his hand. 

"'Besides, ' she went on, 'these women are just no party at all. Mabel'shead is full of the book, and between us, poor little Miss Eaton willhave a wearisome drive of it. '

"'I shall go with you, ' James answered, 'my letters can wait till thenext mail. '

"'We have conquered, Mabel!' cried Mrs. Harrington, with that air oftriumph so many women show on such occasions, --a feeling which, Iconfess, has always been a mystery to me. 

"But just now Mrs. Harrington made a sad mistake when she said that wehad conquered--as if either of us had anything to do with Mr. James'change of determination! The moment she had announced her intention ofinviting our beautiful neighbor, he had discovered that it was easy forhim to let his correspondence lie over. Either Mrs. Harrington was veryblind, or she chose to ignore a fact that was as palpable as if he hadgiven utterance to it. 

"I felt tired and moody, and half inclined to make that ordinaryfeminine fib, a headache, a plea for not making one of the party. I donot know what I might have said; I dare say something I should have beensorry for, because I felt strangely perverse and irritable. "

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

ZILLAH'S LETTER. 

"One morning, while we were arranging a drive for the afternoon, GeneralHarrington entered the room, bringing a letter in his hand. 

"'How do you find yourself this morning, fair lady!' he asked, approaching his wife and kissing her hand with his accustomedgallantry. 

"'Quite well, ' she answered, lifting her eyes to his with that lovelysmile of greeting she always had for him, and which made her face sobeautiful. 

"'That is the most delightful news that could greet me, ' he replied, with one of his courtly bows. 'How is my paragon of wards?' hecontinued, turning to me. 

"I answered him pleasantly; he was so elegant and thorough-bred that onewas insensibly forced to restrain even pettish thoughts in his presence. But I was abashed all the while, for I noticed that as the General cameup to the sofa, James immediately retreated and resumed his seat in thewindow. He had often of late betrayed those little signs of desiring toavoid the General's society, and they puzzled me very much, for theelder man's behavior to him was always friendly and courteous in theextreme. 

"'I need not ask after your health, James, ' the General said, goodnaturedly, 'because it cannot have materially altered since I made theinquiry an hour ago. '

"'What is that letter?' asked Mrs. Harrington, with the curiosity thatbecomes habitual with most invalids, and speaking so quickly, thatJames' disregard of his stepfather's remark was not noticeable. 

"'It is for you, madam; I could not resist the pleasure of giving it toyou myself, for I know how much you like to receive letters. '

"'Thanks! You manage in everything to give me a double pleasure, ' shesaid, taking the letter from his hand and tearing it open. 

"'From Zillah, ' she said, glancing down the page. 

"I saw James start. He caught me looking at him, and quieted himself atonce; but I noted his agitation plainly. 

"The General was busy wheeling an easy chair near the sofa, and did notcatch his wife's remark. 

"'From whom did you say it was, my dear?' he asked. 

"'From Zillah, ' she replied, without looking up. 

"'She, indeed, ' said he carelessly, 'and what does the poor and ratherbad tempered Zillah have to say?'

"He sat down by his wife's side, playing with the flowers that lay onher cushions, and did not observe the quick, angry, defiant look thatJames shot at him as he spoke. 

"'Poor girl, ' said Mrs. Harrington, as she finished reading the hurriedscrawl, 'she is pining to come and join us; she says she is much better, but so lonely and homesick that she feels it will be impossible for herto get well until she is safe with us again. '

"The General shrugged his shoulders. 

"'Your spoiled Zillah is seldom contented, ' he said, pleasantly enough. 

"'Just read the letter, ' Mrs. Harrington said, placing it in his hands. 'I am sure you will be sorry for her--she says she feels like a poorlittle Italian grey-hound left out in the cold. '

"The General read the letter and returned it to his wife, saying--

"'I suppose she is lonely, and since she is well enough to travel, ofcourse she had better come on at once--she can be of service to you, Idare say, even if she is not strong enough to resume her old duties. '

"'I really want to see her, pretty creature, ' Mrs. Harrington said, glancing over portions of the letter again. 

"'I feel quite lost without her caprices and bad temper--besides, shealways knows exactly what is to be done for me, and does it in the bestway. '

"'Only, thanks to Miss Mabel's kindness, you have not had time to missher, ' the General said. 

"'Oh, there never was such a nurse as Mabel, ' cried she, 'but then Ican't quite make a servant of her, willing as she is to sacrificeherself to my whims. '

"'I scarcely thought you regarded the girl Zillah quite as a servant, 'said James, speaking for the first time. There was something so bitterin his voice, that I wondered they did not notice it. 

"'Indeed I do not, ' Mrs. Harrington replied. 'She is faithful andloving, and so handsome that it is like having some exotic flower aboutme. '

"'Mrs. Harrington never forgets what is due herself or others, James, whether they may be dependent or friends, ' the General said, in a morereproving tone than I ever before heard him employ towards his wife'sson. 

"Again James' dark eyes flashed upon him that strange look of anger anddefiance. 

"'May I see the letter, mother?' he asked, quickly. 

"'Certainly, ' Mrs. Harrington said, stretching out her hand over theback of the sofa. 

"As James took the letter, the General said--

"'Zillah is not likely to have any important secrets to write to yourmother. '

"I might--perhaps it was fancy, caused by the suspicion that was in myown mind--but I thought he slightly emphasized the words 'your mother. 'No, I am sure it was not fancy, for James' lips shut together in thecompressed way they did when he was angry, and a frown gathered on hisforehead--he had caught the peculiar tone as I did. "

CHAPTER XLIX. 

THE GENERAL PROPOSES A TRIP TO CADIZ. 

"While James was reading the letter, the General said to his wife--

"'I find that I shall be obliged to go back to Cadiz, so I will bringZillah home. '

"James crumpled the letter in his hand, and called out in so loud andagitated a voice that Mrs. Harrington absolutely started--

"'I will go back for Zillah, mother. '

"The General turned a little in his chair, glanced at me, then regardedJames--his eyebrows slightly raised with an expression of surprise. 

"'Upon my word, ' said he, pleasantly as ever, 'I scarcely see thenecessity for your playing _preux chevalier_ in this case, James. '

"'Not the slightest, ' said Mrs. Harrington. 'But James is alwaysthoughtful for others. '

"'Always, ' the General said. 

"'I have nothing to detain me here--I have seen Seville thoroughly, andshall be glad to make this journey, ' James said, without payingattention to what had passed. 

"I felt my cheeks tingling with impatience and indignation. What didthis eagerness and solicitude mean? Did he forget how unbecoming itwas--did he not remember how this strange, passionate, ill-regulatedcreature, in spite of her beauty, her marvelous eyes, and her bewitchingvoice, belonged to a race separated from us by all natural laws! Did heforget that she was a menial--a slave?

"The General was smiling still, and smoothing a long curl of his wife'shair that had broken loose from the comb and fell over the cushion in ashining wave. 

"'James is so full of his scheme of becoming a modern Don Quixote, thathe did not even hear me say that I would bring Zillah on here, ' he said. 

"'It strikes me that you are inclined to do Don Quixote yourself, sir, 'exclaimed James, and his voice was sharp and harsh. 

"'Excuse me--you misunderstand, ' replied the General, in a ratherdrawling, sarcastic tone; 'if I were inclined to emulate Cervantes, hereI think my taste is sufficiently patrician for me to display it in someother quarter than toward my wife's domestic. '

"The tone was somewhat sneering, and the speech was a little affectedand fatuous, but I knew he said it as a reproof to James, and hedeserved it well. 

"'I am sure the courier seems the proper person to send back, ' Mrs. Harrington said, a little disturbed by this unusual tone between herhusband and son. 'Why should'nt he go, General?'

"'You are right, my treasure, as you always are, ' he replied. 'But as Ibegan to tell you, I am obliged to return to Cadiz myself. '

"'If you have business there I can transact it for you, ' persistedJames. 

"'Thanks! I have the utmost confidence in your judgment, but this is amatter that I feel inclined to take in my own hands. '

"'Business in Cadiz!' muttered James, ironically. 

"His mother did not catch the words, but the General and I did. TheGeneral only smiled--he looked a little contemptuous now. 

"'Why do you have to go back, dear?' his wife asked. 

"'Simply because I got a letter this morning from that stupid banker, Henriquez. He has made a muddle of buying those three pictures wewanted, and that Englishman who was so crazy about them will get the lotafter all, unless I go on myself. '

"'Oh, I wouldn't lose that Cano for the world, ' cried Mrs. Harrington;'I have set my heart on having it in my bed room at home. '

"'Precisely the reason I made up my mind to go, dear lady, ' said theGeneral, lifting her pretty hand to his lips with exquisite gallantry. 'I am a foolish man, and I cannot bear to have you disappointed inanything--be it of importance or the veriest trifle. '

"'Oh, how good you are, ' said Mrs. Harrington, with the grateful tearsswimming in her eyes. 'Far--far, far too good to me. '

"'I could not equal your deserts, my best one, ' he answered. 'Besides, those three pictures are very valuable--worth double what I can get themfor, and as a man who likes to further the cause of art in our newcountry, I should not feel justified in neglecting this opportunity. AmI not right?'

"'Perfectly, ' she said. 

"'Miss Crawford thinks so too, I hope!' he asked politely. 

"I bowed--I was too much shaken by a world of strange, inexplicableemotions, to trust my voice just then. 

"'I can attend to that business easily enough, ' James added; 'and youprofess to hate travelling. '

"'I shall be upheld by a consciousness that I am performing my duty, 'replied the General, laughing. 'No, James, I am convinced that unless Igo myself, we shall lose those pictures. I really have, whatsuperstitious people call a premonition, in regard to the matter. '

"'It is useless to prolong the discussion, ' exclaimed James, angrily, rising from his chair. 

"'Oh quite, ' replied the General, 'I am an indolent man, but a perfectSpartan in the cause of duty--pray give me some credit, ladies. '

"'I can only think how I shall miss you, ' exclaimed his wife. 

"'My dear friend, we shall both have one pleasant anticipation amid thepain of separation--that of meeting soon again. '

"James was walking up and down the room, moody and preoccupied. 

"'When shall you go?' Mrs. Harrington asked. 

"'This very day--I must lose no time. '

"'And when will you be back?'

"'Within the week; I shall make all haste, you may be sure. '

"'But you will stay in Cadiz long enough to rest, ' she said anxiously;'you must not make yourself ill. '

"'Always thoughtful--always kind!' he half whispered. Then he addedaloud--'I shall send for Zillah to join me there, and will bring her on;so you see everything arranges itself admirably. '

"James paused suddenly in his impatient march up and down the room, andsaid more quietly than he had spoken during the whole conversation--'Iwill go with you, General--I shall be glad of a little change. '

"'My dear friend, few things could be pleasanter to me than to have yoursociety, but you forget that it is quite out of the question here; youwould leave your mother and Miss Crawford alone. '

"I could not keep silence a moment longer--if I had died for it, I musthave spoken. 

"'We have plenty of friends, ' I said; 'we should do very well. Mr. Harrington could have a pleasant trip, and leave us quite satisfied thatZillah would not be carried off by bandits on the road. '

"I did not look at James as I spoke. I felt that I neither colored orshowed any emotion--it seemed as if I was only surprised and slightlydisgusted at so much discussion concerning a servant. 

"'Oh, you must not go, James, ' his mother said. 'I should die of frightin twenty-four hours. '

"'I see that it would be out of the question, ' returned he, in a voicethat wavered between vexation and trouble. 

"The General cast another quick glance toward me--that strange fleetinglook which I had detected several times before, and which proved to methat the suspicions in my own mind, to which I could scarcely have givena name, in fact but vaguely understood, had a place in his. 

"James turned to leave the room; the General had risen and was standingat a little distance from me, bending over a vase of flowers andinhaling their perfume with that love of all beautiful things which wasone of his most prominent characteristics. 

"In leaving the room, Mr. Harrington had to pass near him, and Idistinctly heard the General say--'You surprise me! Imprudent, mostimprudent. '

"James passed on as if he had not heard the words, but I saw his face, and I knew by the pale wrath that locked his features and glittered inhis eyes, that not a syllable of that quiet remonstrance upon theglaring impropriety of his behavior, had escaped him. 

"The General had evidently forgotten that I sat near enough to haveoverheard his remark, but as he turned and looked at me, I suppose hesaw by the expression of my countenance that I had done so. He seemedtroubled. I knew that he divined the vague suspicions that disturbed me, and was annoyed to think that any words of his should so clearly haveshown me that he shared my ideas in regard to James' singular conduct. 

"I left Mrs. Harrington and the General together, for I knew that shewould wish to be alone with him to receive his farewell; for it was soseldom that he left her, and her nerves were so fragile and excitablefrom long illness, that this brief separation and journey were mattersof painful import to her. 

"But whatever the General's decision in any case might be, it was seento be right in her eyes; and it was not wonderful that she trusted himso implicitly, for his manner to her was always perfect, his care andattention to her unvarying; besides all, his judgment was seldom atfault. 

"I went away to my room; as I passed through the corridor, I heard LucyEaton's voice on the landing above, and I hurried on, for I was in nomood to listen patiently to her girlish chatter. 

"I was alone for a long hour, and it was a sad, dark watch that I keptthere by myself in that gloomy chamber. The very fact that so manyvarying suspicions disturbed me, that they were all so vague andshifting, made my reflections full of unrest. But I could settle uponnothing--could form no conclusion. 

"Only the other day I had believed that he loved Lucy Eaton--at leastthat he was captivated by her golden curls, blue eyes, and her prettychildish ways; the weak fascinations that seem to possess such strangepower for the strongest men. "

CHAPTER L. 

MISS EATON MAKES MISS CRAWFORD A VISIT. 

"The next morning there came a knock at the door; it was my maid. Shecame to inform me that the General was ready to start, and desired tobid me good-bye. 

"I went down stairs and met him coming out of his wife's room. 

"'Pray go and comfort her, ' he said in a tremulous voice; 'I would nothave undertaken this journey if I had thought that she would have feltit so much, though she insists on my going; she is very cheerful now, but I am afraid she will break down when I am gone. '

"'I will do all that I can to comfort her, ' I said. 

"'I am sure of that! I could not leave her if you were not here. Jamesis fond of his mother--but--well, young men will be young men. '

"I did not attempt to return his smile--I was too indignant with youngMr. Harrington to aid in glossing over his conduct. 

"'Believe me, my dear ward, ' said the General suddenly, 'only a gravereason has made me start on this journey. Good bye--God bless you. Letme find you well and happy when I return. '

"He touched my forehead gently with his lips, and was gone. 

"I was about to knock at Mrs. Harrington's door, when I saw James comingdown the corridor, evidently going there, too. I turned away and wentinto the salon. I did not wish even to exchange a word with him then. 

"It might have been half an hour after, when Lucy Eaton tapped at thedoor and opened it before I could speak. 

"'I knew you were here alone, ' she said, 'may I come in?'

"How pretty she looked, standing there in her dress of thin blue muslin, her golden hair falling about that lovely face which, probably, hadnever in her whole life been disturbed by a single thought or fancy thatcould cause pain to another. 

"'So the General has gone to Cadiz, ' she said, as she came into the roomand flung herself in a graceful attitude on the sofa near me. 'How lostdear Mrs. Harrington will be;--we must all try to console her. '

"I was so unreasonable and bad tempered that I fear my first impulse wasto ask her what possible right she could have to offer the ladyconsolation; but I managed to keep back that little ebullition oftemper, and answered, instead--

"'He will only be gone a few days; Mrs. Harrington will not have a greatdeal of time to be lonely. '

"'And then she has you with her, and I can't fancy anybody feelingsolitary, dear Miss Crawford, while they can have your society. '

"'Dear Miss Crawford, ' was in no mood to accept complimentspatiently--they would have had a false ring to my ear at that moment, coming even from those whom I knew well and loved, so they were notlikely to be accepted with good grace from this comparative stranger. Isuppose she would have thought me unkind for considering her so, but Inever found it easy to get up the girlish enthusiasm necessary forcementing sudden and violent friendship. 

"'That is a very pretty speech, ' I said bluntly, 'but it doesn't meananything at all. '

"Lucy dropped her tiny hands and went off into a peal of laughter that, I must confess, was sweet as a chime of silver bells. 

"'You do say the oddest things!' she exclaimed. 'I never knew any one sooriginal as you are, but dear Miss Crawford, though I like itexceedingly myself, do you think--'

"She hesitated, and as I saw she never would finish her sentence unlessI asked the desired question, I inquired--

"'Do I think what, Miss Eaton?'

"'That--that gentlemen quite like it. Young girls have to be soparticular, you know, or they displease them. '

"'Really, ' I said, 'I have never taken the trouble to think about thematter; and to tell you the truth, I fear I should not much care, evenif I had. '

"'Ah, to be sure, you are differently situated from so many girls--withyour beauty and your great fortune, whatever you say or do will alwaysbe thought charming--Oh, dear Miss Crawford, I did not mean that--indeedI did not! Now you are vexed with me, I am sure. '

"'I am not quite bad tempered enough to take offence where none ismeant, Miss Eaton. '

"'Bad tempered? Why, I think you have the sweetest disposition I everknew! Mamma was saying only this morning, that you had a face like anangel. '

"I doubted that, for I was confident Mrs. Eaton had no greatprepossession in my favor, but of course I let it pass. 

"'I am so heedless, ' moaned Lucy; 'I say everything that comes in myhead--mamma says she wishes I could acquire a little of yourdignity--but I never shall be like you--never. '

"The glance of self satisfaction which she cast in the mirror where herpretty figure was reflected gracefully curled up among the sofacushions, was extremely amusing to me. 

"'I think, ' I said, 'that you may congratulate yourself on there beingno resemblance between us. '

"'Oh, that was not what I meant, ' she replied. 'You are very beautiful, and I am sure nobody would ever say that of poor little me. '

"I thought I had now talked all the nonsense that the most exaggeratedidea of courtesy could require, so I said--

"'You must not think me unkind, but--'

"'Unkind?' she repeated. 'I never knew you to have an unkind thought. Whatever you do or say would always be considered charming. '

"'More pretty speeches, ' said I, trying to laugh, for I had the grace tofeel a little ashamed of my ill humor. 'You quite overwhelm me with themto-day--let me try my skill. Do you know that your dress is particularlybecoming, and that you are looking your very loveliest to-day?'

"'Oh, my! no, ' returned she, glancing at herself in the opposite mirror. 'I don't think the dress pretty at all--it's mamma's taste--and I amsure I am looking horribly. I told mamma I would not come in, only I wascertain there was nobody here beside you. '

"'I have not seen Mrs. Harrington since the General left, ' I said, byway of trying to bear my part in the conversation more than from anyother reason; 'but her son is with her. '

"'Mr. Harrington is so devoted to his mother, ' exclaimed Lucy. 'Mammasays that he is a model, and that so good a son could not fail tomake--'

"She broke off with a little attempt at embarrassment, that was rather afailure. 

"'Would make a good husband, you mean, I suppose, ' returned I. 'That isthe old proverb, I believe. '

"'Yes--but I hesitated--I'm so foolish. It always seems immodest to namesuch things outright. '

"'I am sorry that I am immodest, ' said I, 'but straight-forward wordsare natural to me, and I utter them abruptly sometimes. '

"'I suppose I really ought to go and see if I can do anything for Mrs. Harrington. She is probably alone by this time. '

"At that moment the door opened, and James looked into the room. He didnot see Lucy Eaton where he stood, and said coldly enough--

"'Miss Crawford, if you have leisure, my mother would like to see you. '

"'Certainly, ' I said, rising. 

"'And I must go back, ' cried Lucy, springing up in a flutter. 'Mammawill positively think I am lost. '

"'Good morning, Miss Eaton, ' James said; 'pray excuse me. I supposedMiss Crawford was alone. I beg pardon of both for having interruptedyou. '

"'Oh, there was no interruption, ' said Lucy, moving toward him with herthin dress sweeping out like a cloud. 'We were through talking, and whatdo you suppose it was all about?' she added coquettishly. 

"'I really have no idea, ' he answered, with a degree of indifferencethat I wondered she did not notice. 

"'I am sure I shall not tell you, ' she said, tossing her curls. 'We'llnot tell, will we, Miss Crawford?' I was busy putting away some booksthat had been lying on a chair, and so had an excuse for beingconveniently deaf. 

"'Since you are so determined, it would be useless for me to attempt topersuade you, ' James replied, and I knew that he was trying to be politein order to hide how it bored him to stand there and talk nonsense. 

"I think that a few days before it would have pleased me to have thisproof that Mr. Harrington did not care so much for pretty Lucy Eaton, but it brought me no satisfaction now. Straightway, as if something hadwhispered it in my ear, came the reason for his indifference. His mindwas so completely engrossed by thoughts of our conversation about thegirl Zillah, that there was no room for other ideas to find a place. 

"The bare idea turned me faint with indignation and disquiet. The worstthing of all--the hardest to bear--was to lose my respect for him; andhe was forcing me rapidly to do that. 

"If he had loved Lucy Eaton, it would have been an honorable affection, such as every man has a right to choose for himself; but in thisentanglement, which I was more and more convinced fettered his feelingsand movements, there could be nothing but secresy and dishonor. 

"I wanted to go away--to get beyond the sight of his face--the sound ofhis voice. As I stood there listening to their idle conversation, I feltthat I almost hated the man. With his wicked secret on his soul whatright had he to bring himself into the presence of innocent women, andassume a position of equality with them. I knew how foolish it allwas--I tried to think that the meanness was in my entertaining suchsuspicions, but I could no more change my feelings than I could banishmy doubts. 

"I walked to the door; as James stepped aside to allow us to pass, Icaught one strange, troubled look from his eyes, which I could notunderstand. Did it mean that he believed I had divined his secret, andwas appealing to my generosity for silence?

"There was no time to think about it. Lucy was holding me by the sleeveand saying--

"'I don't believe you have heard a syllable Mr. Harrington has said. Hismother wants us to go out driving with her toward sunset. '

"'So Mrs. Harrington told me this morning. '

"'But you did not mention it. '

"'No, because she spoke before she knew of her husband's journey, and Ithought she might not feel inclined to go out. '

"'I am sure I shall be delighted, ' Lucy said. 'Do you mean to take theother seat, Mr. Harrington?'

"'If you permit. '

"'Oh, my! I'm sure it's not for me to say! But I know your mother neverhalf enjoys herself unless you are present, and really, one feels somuch safer driving when there's a gentleman along. One never knows whatthese dreadful Spanish coachmen may do. '

"'I believe ours is very trusty, ' James replied. 'Please don't hint yourfears to my mother, or she would not drive again while she is here. '

"'Oh, of course not! Any way, I did not mean anything--I always speakwithout thought! Mamma says my head is no better than a feather. Isn'tthat cruel of her, Mr. Harrington?'

"'You can console yourself by being certain that she does not mean it. '

"'Oh, I don't know! Mamma has a great admiration for dignified, statelycreatures, like our dear Miss Crawford. She says I will be nothing but aspoiled little kitten all my days. '

"James looked so impatient of all this nonsense, that I was amused inspite of myself. I went away to his mother's room, and left him to freehimself from Miss Eaton the best way he could. "

CHAPTER LI. 

CONTINUED MISUNDERSTANDING. 

"Mrs. Harrington was lying on her sofa when I entered. She looked up andsmiled cheerfully, but I could see that she had been crying. 

"'I sent for you, dear, because James wanted to go out for a while, ' shesaid. 'Some way I don't just like being left alone--you don't mindsitting with me?'

"'You know I like it, Mrs. Harrington. '

"'You're a dear, good girl, Mabel! I never can be grateful enough to youfor all your kindness and patience with me. '

"I kissed her forehead but did not answer. 

"'Toward evening we'll go out to drive, ' she said, 'and take that littleLucy with us. '

"'Yes; Mr. Harrington gave her your invitation. Shall I go on with ourbook now?'

"'Oh yes, do; I am wonderfully interested in it. '

"I had left the novel in the _salon_, and went back to get it. As Iopened the door, James was pacing up and down the room, and the face heturned toward me was pale and troubled. 

"'I came for my book, ' I said, and began searching for it among thevolumes on the table. 

"'Can I help you?'

"'Thanks--no--here it is. '

"How different it all was from the days--so far off and faded theyseemed now--when we had conversed like friends, with neither restraintsor concealment between us!

"Now he was reserved--distant, and I could feel that my manner wasabsolutely cold and haughty. I had reached the door when he camehurriedly toward me, saying--

"'Miss Crawford!'

"I stopped. 

"'What is it, Mr. Harrington?'

"I knew my voice sounded icy--he looked at me, and the odd, troubledlook came over his face again. 

"'I only wished to ask if you were going to my mother, ' he said in ahesitating, embarrassed way, very unusual with him. 

"It was not true; he had meant to speak of something entirely different. I have wondered since if my frigid manner and lack of sympathy preventedhim. Yet what could he have said--there was no possibility of hisbringing even the slightest allusion to his trouble before me. 

"'Certainly I am, ' I said. 

"'I have to go out, ' he continued; 'I will be back by the time you wishto drive. '

"'Very well; but I assure you as far as I am concerned, I have no fearthat the coachman cannot manage the horses without difficulty. '

"He colored slightly--offended, I suppose, by my tone and myindifference. 

"'My mother desired me to accompany her, ' he said, coldly, 'so I shallbe obliged to force myself upon your society. '

"'Are you not too modest in your estimate of yourself?' I asked with alaugh, that even to my own ears, sounded so harsh and mocking, that Iscarcely recognized it as my own. 

"He gave me another of those quick, strange glances. It was too late toattempt to soften my judgments or opinions now, by looks or words. Whilehating myself for the thoughts that tormented me, I could neither returnto my old faith or believe in the evil that disturbed it. 

"'I fear I hardly appreciate satire, ' he said, gravely. 

"'No!' returned I, laughingly. 'You must cultivate a taste for it--readthe old English humorists. '

"'Certainly Miss Crawford seems to have been studying the art latelywith great diligence, if one may judge from the results. '

"'That is a somewhat doubtful compliment, still I must take it forgranted that you meant it to be one, ' said I. 'But I cannot wait tolisten--Mrs. Harrington is wondering what I am about, I dare say. '

"'And we are not friends any longer? 'he asked with a sudden change ofmanner, extending his hand as he spoke. 

"'The best of friends, certainly, ' I answered, 'only I have not timejust now to talk about the matter. '

"I pretended not to notice his offered hand, and ran away down thecorridor. I glanced back as I reached his mother's door. He was stillstanding where I had left him--he was looking after me. All this seemedneedless duplicity, and only made me feel more harshly toward him. Iwould not have touched his hand then for the world. Why did he wish tokeep up the farce of trying to make me believe that my opinion was ofconsequence to him? Perhaps from that absorbing vanity which so many menare said to possess, which makes them unwilling to suppose that anywoman in the world is absolutely indifferent to them. 

"I went back to Mrs. Harrington, and sat reading to her for a long time. Then my maid came to help her dress--we had both forgotten how late itwas. The carriage was already at the door. 

"Lucy Eaton was ready when we sent for her, and in the salon. Mr. Harrington joined us, so we went out for our drive. It was almostsunset, one of those glorious days that it seems to me only Spain canshow in their full perfection. Italy even falls short. There is asoftness, a witchery, an absolute intoxication about them, which must befelt in order to be understood; but any one who has enjoyed them wouldsay with me, that no words could be found to express their wonderfulcharm. 

"A rather dull, silent drive, though Lucy Eaton talked a great deal; andJames, who was sitting beside her, of course, made an effort to talk andto appear interested. But it was evident that it was an effort--soevident that I wondered how she could help seeing it. 

"Mrs. Harrington was in one of her most quiet moods, and as for me, Ileaned back in the carriage and kept my mouth resolutely shut. I am sureI must have looked both obstinate and disagreeable, but I could not helpit--in fact, I am afraid that I did not much care. 

"I was mortally tired; I could not tell why. Certainly a few hours ofreading aloud could not have reduced me to a state of such extremeweariness, and I had made no other exertion; but body and mind I feltutterly prostrated, as if I should never be rested or strong again. 

"I was glad enough when the drive was over. I must have shown in my facesomething of the lassitude, for even Lucy, who was the most thoughtlessand unobservant of human beings said, as we got out of the carriage--

"'You look so pale, Miss Crawford; I am sure you cannot be well. '

"'Only dreadfully tired, ' I said; 'I shall have a cup of tea and gostraight to my room. '

"Mrs. Harrington was inclined to be anxious about me, but I succeeded inconvincing her that there was no occasion. 

"'I only want a long sleep; I was wakened very early this morning, andthere is so much of the dormouse about me, that if I am cheated out of asingle half hour of my usual allowance, I am fit for nothing all day. '

"I knew James was to stay with his mother; and as Lucy Eaton seemedinclined to spend the evening too, I drank a cup of tea and went away tomy room. 

"I undressed myself and lay down on my bed, too thoroughly worn out tosit up longer, but I could not sleep. I felt as if I would give theworld to have fallen into a slumber so heavy that it could not have beendisturbed even by a dream, till the new day came in. 

"But not even a sensation of drowsiness would come. There I lay andwatched the full moon soaring up the purple heavens--thinking--thinking, and yet so longing to be free from thought--and oh, so tired, so tired. 

"Many a time I have passed a week that did not seem so long as thatnight! I had a horrible feeling that it would never come to an end. Ifelt as if time had ceased suddenly, and I had been flung into thepulseless hush of eternity, and was to be left alone there forever, withmy dreary meditations for company and punishment. "

CHAPTER LII. 

GENERAL HARRINGTON RETURNS WITH ZILLAH. 

"Of the remainder of that week, while we were waiting for the General'sreturn, there are no events to record. The time passed quietly enough;Mrs. Harrington, in spite of her pining somewhat over her husband'sunexpectedly prolonged absence, improved in health every day. It was agreat pleasure to notice how each morning she seemed stronger andbrighter, taking a new interest in everything that went on about her, and so cheerful and kind that I grew to love her very dearly. 

"I suppose I may as well own the truth; Lucy Eaton was a great trial tome. I have no doubt that I was cross and irritable. I used to reproachmyself twenty times each day, for being so captious and unreasonable;but really, that pretty, childish creature fretted me almost beyond allpowers of endurance. 

"I got so weary of hearing about dress, that I felt that I should nevercare again whether I had anything pretty or not. As for young men, andmarriage, and the pleasures of society, I heard them discussed until Iwished that neither of them had ever had an existence. 

"But I have no doubt it was all greatly owing to the state of feelinginto which I had fallen, and I knew it was wrong, but at that time Icould not exercise the least control over myself. 

"At last the General returned, bringing Zillah with him. I was out ofthe room when he arrived, so that I did not witness the meeting betweenhim and his wife; but when I joined them soon after, one glance at Mrs. Harrington's face was sufficient to show how happy his return had madeher. 

"The General greeted me in his usual cordial, gallant manner. I was veryglad to have him with us once more. 

"'James cannot know you have come, ' Mrs. Harrington said, 'or he wouldbe here. '

"'He is quite well, I hope, ' the General said. 

"'Quite. Oh dear, how glad I am to have you back. '

"'You may know by your own pleasure, how glad I am to return, ' heanswered. 'Nothing would have induced me to go but that I felt it right. I did not approve--I may speak before my dear ward, --I thought Jamesquite too young to be entrusted with the business of bringing back sopretty a girl as Zillah, even if she was only a servant. '

"'I must send for her, ' Mrs. Harrington said. 'Poor thing, she will takeit dreadfully to heart if she thinks I am not glad to see her. '

"She rang the little bell that sat on the table, and asked the man tosend Zillah in. Just as he went, James entered. I looked with a littlecuriosity to see the meeting between him and his step-father. 

"The General's manner was the same as ever--that exquisite blending ofcourtesy and kindly feeling which always characterized hiscommunications with his wife's son. But young Mr. Harrington wasconstrained, almost cold. I knew that he had not forgiven the Generalfor the course he had taken regarding that journey. 

"When I saw that, I fairly hated him. He exchanged a little conversationwith the General, talked for a moment with his mother, and after afrigid salutation to me passed on to a window, and stood there lookingout into the court. 

"In a short time the door opened again, and Zillah entered. The creaturefairly bounded toward Mrs. Harrington like some beautiful wild animal, and fell at her feet, kissing her hands, and pouring out a torrent ofdelighted exclamations. 

"The slave was more gorgeously lovely than ever; somewhat paler andthinner, and her great eyes beamed with more eager light. 

"Mrs. Harrington was touched almost to tears by the girl's manner, butto me it was fairly repulsive. Her gladness was so exaggerated that Icould not help thinking it all acting from beginning to end. 

"'I am so glad, so glad!' she kept repeating. 'Dear mistress, I thoughtI should die and never see you again! It broke my heart! Oh, I am sohappy. '

"'And I am very glad to have you back, my pretty Zillah, ' Mrs. Harrington said. 'I have missed you very much. '

"Zillah kissed the fair hands again, but it seemed to me--oh, howsuspicious I had grown--that the evil light I had so often noticed inher eyes deepened till, in defiance of her beauty, she looked absolutelyfiendish. 

"'See, ' said Mrs. Harrington, 'you have not spoken to Miss Mabel. '

"The girl rose from her knees and came toward me, dropping a gracefulcurtsey that seemed to me fairly insulting, instead of a mark ofrespect. 

"'I am glad you are quite well again, Zillah, ' was all I could bringmyself to say. 

"She murmured something--I do not know exactly what--at the same momentshe caught sight of James standing in the window. The color rushed in atorrent to her face, then as suddenly receded, leaving her pale andtrembling with excitement. 

"She went timidly toward him. He did not stir--did not even look round. Was it because he was afraid to let us see his face?

"Zillah stopped in the recess, and I heard her say in a falteringvoice--

"'Mr. James, Mr. James! Everybody else is glad to see poor Zillah back, but you will not even speak to me. '

"He turned then. He was very pale, and his features were set and hard. Iwas certain this arose from a violent effort to conceal his feelings. 

"'I am very glad you are well again, ' he said; 'my mother has missedyou. '

"The girl made a quick, angry gesture, and I saw--yes, I could swearthat it was not fancy--I saw James Harrington make a little sign withhis hand, as if to caution her. 

"She checked herself at once, and with a few broken words about her loveof her mistress, she turned away and went hastily out of the room. 

"'Poor Zillah, ' said Mrs. Harrington, 'she could not bear it any longer;she has gone away to have a good cry all by herself. She is the mostsensitive, affectionate creature I ever saw in my life. I must go afterher or she will be getting into one of her desperate fits, thinkingnobody is pleased to have her back. '

"'Better leave her to herself, ' the General said, carelessly; 'I thinkthe girl is a good deal spoiled already--better not add to it. '

"James darted a perfectly furious glance at him as he spoke, then turnedand looked out of the window again. 

"'Perhaps you are right, dear, ' Mrs. Harrington said; 'I do spoil thechild, but she is so pretty, I really cannot help it. '

"'A reason that answers with women, ' said the General, smiling, 'andyoung men, ' he added to himself, but I caught the words, low as theywere spoken. 

"I suppose my face betrayed that I had heard him, for he gave me alittle deprecatory bow and smile, half playful, half apologetic. 

"James moved suddenly from the window and was leaving the room. 

"'Are you going out, dear?' his mother asked. 

"'Not yet, ' he answered, 'Have you any commands, _madre mia_?'

"'None, I believe, ' she replied with her happiest smile. 'Perhaps Mabelhas, though. '

"'Miss Crawford has only to express them, ' he replied, half turningtoward me, his voice changing so quickly, growing so cold andindifferent, that I wondered even his mother, unobservant as she was, did not notice it. 

"'You are too kind, ' I answered, and if his tone was cold, minecertainly, was haughty enough. 'I have none with which I need troubleyou. '

"The General, whom nothing escaped, looked curiously from one to theother, but did not speak. 

"'You will not be gone long, James?' Mrs. Harrington asked, with theunconscious spirit of exaction which is apt to grow upon those who havebeen ill and suffered a good deal. 

"'Not long enough for you to miss me, dear, ' he replied, and his voicewas kind and gentle as ever. 

"I must do him that justice at least--his manner to his mother nevervaried. Whatever the secret was that disturbed him, however muchpreoccupied he might be--and sometimes he looked worn and troubled, as aman might who was struggling with evil spirits--he had always cheerfulwords and smiles at his command for her. 

"He went up to her now, kissed her and said something in a lowvoice--some pleasant, affectionate words, I knew by the light that cameover her face. 

"'Good morning, James, ' said the General kindly. 

"'Good morning, General Harrington, ' returned he in a hard, steelyvoice, bowed to me, and quitted the room abruptly. 

"The General shrugged his shoulders, looked somewhat impatient, and alittle amused. 

"I had withdrawn to the window, and the General, walking up and down theroom, passed me, and stopped a moment. 

"'I gave up being astonished a good many years ago, ' said he, 'but Iconfess the conduct of that eccentric young gentleman almost surprisesme. '

"I am afraid my smile expressed something like contempt. 

"'Wasn't it Rochefoucault who said, a woman is happiest when mostdeceived?' he asked, with a glance towards his wife. 'Either he or someother misanthropic old Frenchman; but whoever it was, master James hasevidently read and remembered the maxim. '

"'What conspiracy are you and Mabel hatching?' laughed Mrs. Harringtonfrom her chair. 

"'Just at this instant, ' returned the General, 'I am telling Miss Mabelthat she looks a little pale and out of spirits. '

"'She has been kept in the house too much since you went away, ' his wifesaid. 'Mabel, dear, James must take you and Miss Eaton to drive. '

"'I dare say he has engagements, ' I answered carelessly. 'The couriercan go with us perfectly well, and with him we can take the liberty ofchanging our minds as often as we please, about what we shall do. '

"'And that, I suppose, is a great happiness to young ladies, ' said theGeneral, playfully. 

"'At all events, it is the charge made against us from time immemorial, 'I replied, trying to speak in the same tone. 

"'I am sure Mabel is not given to changing her mind, ' said Mrs. Harrington. 

"'No, ' said the General, 'there are many subjects upon which heropinion, once formed, she would never change, I fancy, ' and he smiledwith a significance which I thoroughly understood. 

"I murmured some unintelligible excuse, and left the room. I heard Mrs. Harrington say--

"'See Miss Eaton, dear, and settle about going to ride. ' But I did notpromise to do so. "

CHAPTER LIII. 

ZILLAH IS ANXIOUS ABOUT THE HEALTH OF HER MISTRESS. 

"As I passed the _salon_, the door was open, and I saw the girl, Zillah, standing before James, talking eagerly, and evidently in a fierce stateof excitement. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes blazing--she raised herhands with a quick, Southern gesture of entreaty. I thought she wasabout to lay them on his arm. 

"That moment he caught sight of me, and made a little sign--she checkedherself at once. He looked disconcerted, but the girl's assurance wasnot so easily shaken. She followed me at once, and as she overtook me, said--

"'Oh, Miss Crawford, I am so near crazy with joy at finding myself withthe mistress and all of you, again, that I don't know what I do or say. I was just telling Mr. James how happy it made me to see my dearmistress looking so much better. She is better, Miss Mabel, you arecertain sure of that. '

"Her look was eager; her eyes searched mine with keen scrutiny. 

"'She is greatly improved, ' I replied, coldly. 

"'I was very sick, too, Miss Mabel, ' she went on; 'at one time I thoughtI should die, and never see her again, or the master; master James, Imean, or any one. Oh, it seemed as if heaven was cruel to me, as ifeverything I saw was cruel. '

"'That is absolutely wicked, Zillah, ' I answered, almost harshly. 

"'I know it. I am sorry now--but I could not help it. We cannot alwaysput down wicked feelings. But you are sure that the mistress isbetter--getting well?'

"I was a little conscience-stricken by the thought that there had beenslight Christian feeling in the admonition I had given her, and so foundnothing to say, except that I was sure Mrs. Harrington was almost quitewell. 

"'Are we going to stay here long, Miss Mabel?' she asked, following me, 'now that she is so much better--quite well--did you say quite well, young mistress. '

"'I don't know--perhaps, since Mrs. Harrington seems so much benefitedby the air. The doctor considers her almost cured--there is only theweakness to overcome now. You can see how the color has come back to herface, yourself, Zillah. '

"Zillah gave a little groan, and staggered back against the wall, pressing her hand on her heart. She was deathly white, and her face wasconvulsed with pain. 

"'Are you sick?' I demanded, really frightened, 'What is the matter, Zillah?'

"'Nothing--nothing, ' she gasped. 'Let me sit down a minute--only apain. I'm not very strong yet, young mistress. '

"She sank on a lounge that stood in the corridor, and covered her facewith her hand. We were near my room, so I ran in there and got a glassof water and carried it to her. 

"'Drink a little, ' I said. 

"The creature's hand shook so that she could scarcely hold the goblet, but the tremor passed quickly. 

"'Thank you, young mistress, ' she said, with a humility that displeasedme, because it looked like acting. 'It is not the thing for you to waiton me. '

"'Are you better?' I asked. 

"'Yes--yes--well now! I think it was only joy--my dear, dear mistress! Ihave this queer pain lately when I am taken of a sudden. It will go awayby and by; I'm going to lie down--mayn't I, Miss Mabel?'

"It was absurd to ask the question--the girl had always done just as shepleased. 

"'You know that you can, ' I said. 

"'If my mistress wants me, I'll come at once--I want to do everythingfor her now. I'm quite well--quite strong. '

"She got up from the lounge and walked down the corridor, but her stepwas unsteady and faltering. I was sorry for her, but my repugnance, myabsolute repulsion toward the beautiful creature was only increased, though I could not have told why. 

"Even her affection for her mistress seemed so exaggerated, that I couldnot believe it. Oh, I was growing very hard and wicked. I reproachedmyself bitterly, but the strange distrust would not be overcome. 

"There is a fair in Seville, where many curious and beautiful things areoffered for sale. This morning the Eatons were urgent that we should go. Some of the Rommany gipsies, from Grenada, had camped on the ground, and Lucy was dying to have her fortune told. Did the silly wish affectme? Was I weak enough to cover a latent desire to consult these strangepeople under the pretence of obliging Lucy Eaton? I fear so. In therestless state of mind which disturbed me, I was willing to fly even toabsurdities for relief. Mrs. Harrington, greatly to my astonishment, consented to go with us. James protested a little against this, for shehad not been so well for a day or two, and he feared the fatigue; butshe, too, had a curiosity to see the gipsies, and protested that shecould do well enough. If they had any fears, Zillah should go with us;and if she got weary, the carriage could take them back to the hotel, and return. 

"No one objected to this arrangement, which delighted Zillahinexpressibly. The girl had been out a good deal since her arrival, especially after the fair commenced. Once or twice I had seen her comein with traces of strange excitement in her face and manner. She gave noaccount of herself, when questioned, more than to say she had been outto see the town; but I, who watched her closely in spite of myself, sawthat she was pale, silent and preoccupied, for hours after theseexcursions. 

"This morning she came to me in a quiet, mysterious manner, which seemedto spring out of suppressed excitement, and hesitating like a bashfulchild, asked me to give her a little money. She wanted to buy someribbons for her hair, she said, but hated to ask the master or mistressfor money. The Spanish servants had a way of braiding the hair down theback, and knotting it with bows of ribbon. She wanted to surprise themistress by the length of her own hair, that was why she came to me formoney. 

"I gave her a napoleon, and in doing so my hand touched hers. It wascold as snow, and shook nervously as I laid the gold in her palm. Thisagitation surprised me, and I looked suddenly in her face to read thecause there; but her eyes were cast down, and, but for a cold whitenessabout the mouth, I should have seen but little difference from her usualmanner. 

"'Zillah, ' I said, 'what is the matter that you look so white?'

"She started and cast a frightened look upon me, while a rush of crimsonswept her face like a stormy sunset. 

"'So white?' she stammered. 'Do I look white?' Then she added quickly, with a faded smile, so evidently forced that it was unpleasant to me, 'Miss Mabel forgets how ill I have been; I am not strong yet, and itdoesn't take much to tire me--I suppose I ran down stairs too quick. '

"She slipped the gold I had given her into her bosom, and thanking meagain for it, started away down the corridor. I had risen and was movingto the door, intending to go to Mrs. Harrington's room to speak to herfor a moment, when Zillah came back. 

"'Miss Mabel, ' she said, speaking like a person who had been running, 'Iwant to say something to you--don't be anxious, may be it is only myfoolishness--but I'm afraid the dear mistress isn't so well as you haveall thought. '

"'What makes you think that, Zillah?'

"'This morning, when I was dressing her, she had one of her old faintattacks, but she made me promise not to tell. Oh! Miss Mabel, I was sofrightened--that was what made me look so strange when I came up. Ican't bear to think of it! My mistress, my dear mistress!'

"She was wringing her hands in a wild agitation that was not feigned, and I did all that I could to comfort her, though this sad news unnervedme almost as much as herself. "

CHAPTER LIV. 

BEHIND THE GIPSIES' TENT. 

"Soon after Zillah left me, a servant came to announce that the carriagewas ready. I found the whole party assembled in the salon, Zillahwaiting outside the door. I never remember to have seen Mrs. Harringtonin such spirits as she was that morning; she looked so young and pretty, too, that it seemed impossible that she could be the mother of thathandsome, proud-looking man. We drove through the streets, away out ofthe town, to the place where the fair was held. It was an odd, picturesque sight, with the gaily decorated booths, the crowds ofquaintly dressed men and women, the noise and laughter. 

"There was a throng gathered about a puppet-show, somewhat like theEnglish Punch and Judy, shrieking with laughter like so many children; agroup of girls consulting an old fortune-teller; pretty peasant girlsfrom the hills slily listening to compliments from the town gallants, evidently to the great indignation of their country swains; in short, every way we turned, some picture that would have been a treasure to anygreat artist, met the eye, and all so strange and picturesque, that Ibecame more interested than I had thought possible. 

"The Gipsies were grouped in a green lane just on the outskirts of thefair. I had seen persons in my own country who claimed to be thesepeople, but they were as unlike the pure Rommany gipsies as races of mencould be. These people were thin, wiry and keen; their features, in mostinstances, finely cut, and the expression of their countenances full ofsharp intelligence. They had pitched a double line of tents, where theelder women were busy selling drinks, and frying cakes, which they soldhot from an iron cauldron full of simmering fat, out of which thesmoking cakes were lifted with a skimmer, as customers wanted them. Theyoung girls of the tribe hovered around the doors of the tents, or weregrouped in a larger tent, dancing for money, at the behest of anystranger who cared to amuse himself by their wild and eccentricmovements. 

"We were told that these dances were not always such as ladies wouldcare to witness, and so avoided the great tent, and gave ourselves up tothe swarms of women who were eager to tell our fortunes, or steal ourpurses, as the case might be. In the midst of this confusion, Mrs. Harrington took hold of my arms in a wild, agitated way, whispering thatshe was tired, and would like to go home. 

"I looked around for Zillah, but she had disappeared, and the gentlemen, just at the moment, were out of sight. 

"'Sit here, ' I said, leading Mrs. Harrington into one of the tents, 'while I go in search of some one who can tell me where the carriageis. '

"Mrs. Harrington sat down, white and faint, both Mrs. Eaton and herdaughter came to her and offered help. I left Lucy fanning the gentlelady, and went into the lane in search of Zillah, though her mistress, made a faint effort to prevent it. As I turned a corner of the lane, twowomen who stood a little apart from the road, near the back of one ofthe tents, struck me as familiar. They stood upon the turf, and weretalking earnestly. One held something in her hand, which she looked downupon, now and then, as she talked. After a moment, I became sure thatone of these persons was Zillah, and went toward her. The turf on whichI walked gave forth no sound, and I moved close to the girl before shecould be aware of my presence. That moment a small phial passed from thehand of that old gipsy woman to that of Zillah, who held the littleflask up to the light, and examined it curiously, speaking in a quick, abrupt way, in Spanish. 

"I could not distinguish the meaning, she spoke so rapidly. When thegipsy answered, I caught the word _Droa_, uttered under the breath twoor three times. The woman seemed to be giving some directions; she spokealmost in a whisper, and I saw the long bony hand clutch Zillah's arm, as if to impress what she was saying more forcibly upon the girl'sattention. Then I saw Zillah hand the piece of gold I had given her thatmorning, to the woman, while she asked other questions in a whisper. 

"'Zillah!'

"The girl fairly leaped from the ground, and uttered a sharp scream, asif I had struck her to the heart. 

"'Zillah, what is this? Why are you so terrified?' She had drawn backtowards the tent, grasping the phial close in her hands; then with herwild eyes on my face, and her features locked in gray whiteness, shestood a full minute staring at me in dumb terror. At last, she falteredout, 'Miss, Miss Crawford, how--how you frightened me. I--I am sonervous. '

"'But there is nothing to make you nervous, Zillah. I only came to saythat your mistress wishes to go home. '

"'Oh! I am ready--I am ready, but--but when did you get here? We--wewere talking--'

"'About something you had in your hand. What is it, Zillah?'

"I saw the girl's slender fingers close spasmodically on the phial, andthe dead whiteness returned to her face. 

"'Oh! it is--'

"Then the gipsy broke in. 'It is a love philter--something that willmake her sweetheart tender and faithful--would the senorita like to buyone?'

"I turned my eyes on Zillah; she was still pale, and trembled visibly. With her magnificent eyes cast down, and her whole figure bowed as if bysome invisible power, she seemed to deprecate my scorn or anger. I wasangry. What did she want with the philter in her hand--to whom was itapplicable?

"'Foolish, ignorant girl, ' I said. 'So it was for this poor fraud youwanted money. Zillah, I thought you had more sense?'

"The girl stood up more firmly. It seemed as if a load had dropped fromher shoulders. She gave a sharp laugh, and said 'I know it, youngmistress. It is a folly--but I could not help it--the gipsies have suchpower--and I may never see them again. Don't tell of me, they will laughso?'"

CHAPTER LV. 

BURDENED WITH A SECRET. 

"I turned away without answering, only ordering Zillah to have done withsuch nonsense, and go to her mistress. She walked on a little behind me, with more meekness than was natural to her; but I was troubled with asort of dread, which nothing in the circumstances could explain. 

"It was all natural enough. In the name of heaven, what had I suspected?I did not know--I do not now! but I felt faint and sick with somehorrible dread, to which I could give neither name or reason. 

"'Miss Mabel, ' said Zillah, coming to my side. 'I suppose you think Itold you a story this morning. '

"'Yes, ' I said, 'I saw you give that money to the old woman. '

"'I was ashamed to tell you what I really wanted, for fear you wouldlaugh at me, ' she replied, 'I never do tell the least bit of a fib thatI'm not found out. '

"'That ought to teach you not to tell any, ' I said, rather severely. 

"'Indeed I don't, Miss Mabel--unless it's about some foolishness likethis. I'm not a big story teller--don't think I am. '

"'I shall not unless you force me to, ' I answered. 'Come, we must findyour mistress now. '

"I walked quickly on, and she followed me in silence. Once I glancedback at her--there was an expression on her face which puzzled me, yes, almost made me afraid. I could imagine Clytemnestra holding her midnightwatch, with a face like that--Lady Macbeth waiting for her husband'sreturn, with eyes like those--oh, I had grown so fanciful and sillyduring those past days. 

"We found Mr. James Harrington with his mother, who was just drivingaway in the carriage. 

"When it came back, I saw him return to the Eatons, who seemed to occupyhim entirely. Feeling myself completely unregarded, I wandered off bymyself, interested in the strange people that surrounded me. 

"I looked about and found that I had lost sight of the whole party. Iwas not frightened, because the fair grounds were in full view, and Icould find my way back easily enough, but I was a little amazed to thinkthat my presence had been of so little consequence to the gentlemen ofthe party, that I had been permitted to steal away unnoticed. 

"I walked on among the tents--nobody looked at me unpleasantly or spokerudely to me, and when my first feeling of pique had subsided, I was notsorry to have an opportunity of examining more closely these strange andincomprehensible people who, during so many ages, have kept up theirdistinctive manners and customs, as much a mystery now as when theyfirst made their appearance among the inhabitants of Europe. 

"Such picturesque looking men, lazily basking in the noon-tide sun--suchgroups of lovely children, that would have sent Murillo intoecstacies--such beautiful girls, whose every movement had a willowy, sensuous grace that the women of no other people ever possessed--weird, witch-like old crones, with such depths of wickedness in their fieryeyes, that in looking at them one could easily have believed in theold-time evidence of those who made bargains for their souls with theEvil One. On I wandered, sometimes stopping to admire the children, orspeak a few words to the young girls. 

"While I was thus occupied, James Harrington joined me, and beganspeaking of his mother. 

"'She is getting worse, ' he said, 'and I can do nothing for her. Itseems as if the presence of this slave girl has a baleful influence onevery one she approaches!'

"I looked at him wonderingly. Why had he opened that subject with me. Ihad no wish to discuss it, even in reference to his mother. Before Icould answer him, General Harrington and the Eatons joined us, and weall walked back to the hotel together. 

"I went at once to Mrs. Harrington's room. She was lying on a couch nearthe window, with her hands clasped, and her eyes closed; but I saw thelids quivering, and discovered heavy tears dropping one by one, on thecushion beneath her head. 

"'Are you so ill, ' I said, sitting down on the edge of the couch andkissing her troubled forehead. 

"'Ill!' she sobbed, lifting both arms toward my neck, like an unhappychild, 'Oh Mabel, my heart is broken. I shall never, never be wellagain!'

"She trembled all over, and seemed ready to go into convulsions in myarms. 

"'What is it, ' I said. 'What could have happened to distress you so?'

"She looked into my face so helplessly, that my soul yearned toward her. 

"'Tell me, oh tell me of the trouble, for it _is_ trouble, and nothingelse, ' I said, holding her close in my arms, for I felt that we werefellow-sufferers, and that my heart must ache with something morepainful than sympathy. 

"She began to tremble again, and clung closer to me. 

"'It was foolish. I did wrong, but who would have thought what wouldfollow. I--I saw him going toward that large tent, where the music was. Zillah had gone in just before, while I was buying some embroidery of awoman. You had all walked on--I wanted to speak with Zillah, andfollowed him. '

"'Go on, ' I said, as well as the pain at my heart would permit ofspeech--for she stopped suddenly, and made a faint effort to leave theclasp of my arms. 'Go on, you cannot feel this more than I do. '

"'Ah, you love me so, thank God for that. '

"'And you can trust me, I would not speak of this, dear friend, to aliving soul, not to save my own life. '

"'It is not that, Mabel, but I have loved him so, --been so proud of him. Never, till this day, have I known what it was to suspect any one dearto me. Now it is not suspicion, but certainty. He loves her, Mabel! Myown servant! I saw her clinging to his arm, while those wild girls weredancing before them. I heard him tell her how much more beautiful shewas than any woman he had ever seen. Don't look at me so wildly, Mabel!I cannot repeat the words, but they are buried in here. '

"'And you heard this, there is no mistake. '

"'Mistake, oh if there could be!'

"'Still this man is--'

"'I know it--the shame and disgrace must be buried here. I dare notspeak of it, dare not reproach him--for there is one who loves me sodearly that he would take revenge, and there might be bloodshed as wellas perfidy. Oh Mabel, I am glad you did not make yourself a slave byloving as I wished. All this is terrible. '

"'Yes, ' I said hoarsely, 'It is terrible, but it does not take me bysurprise. '

"'Then you have suspected something--oh Mabel, keep that girl away fromme. I will be silent, I will do anything a good woman ought, but thesight of her will be too great a torment. '

"I promised to keep Zillah away if that were possible, without giving areason, and again pledged my word to hold all that she had said, secretas the grave. But I went to my own room, fell upon the bed, and passedinto an agony of jealous shame. 

"During the last two weeks Mrs. Harrington is much worse. All her oldcomplaints have come back, and she lies upon her sofa all day long, weary and languid. Nothing can equal the devotion of her husband; as forthe son, his attentions are unremitting; does he guess why she is somuch worse, and is he striving by kindness to silence her unspokenreproaches? She gives no sign of the trouble that is sapping away herlife, not a word has passed between us since that day. The Eatons haveleft us. The atmosphere of a sick room disturbs them. Worse andworse--alas! I greatly fear this gentle lady will never leave Sevillealive. The last remnant of strength seems to be dying out of thatfragile form. 

"Zillah is most attentive--always by her door--always ready to be ofservice, yet I loathe and fear the girl. There are times when her eyeshave a look that makes me shudder, and I long to remove that pale, gentle creature from her care. But, strange enough, General Harringtonhas taken a singular liking to the girl, and insists upon it that no onecan prepare his wife's medicines, or soothe her, so well. Poor lady, shemust submit, or destroy all her husband's respect for the son who haswounded her so. 

"Weaker and weaker--alas! poor lady, she seems to have no real illness, but fades away calmly and softly, like a flower that the frost hadkissed to death. 

"Harrington watches the gentle decline with silent anguish, that I canfeel, while I bitterly condemn him. How cold and distant this troublerenders me! He speaks sometimes of his fears as she grows worse andworse, but it is with mournful restraint, and when I lift my look tohis, or attempt those broken words of comfort that spring naturally tothe lips, he turns away without reply, as if my attempt at consolationhad only deepened his remorse. Was that wild confession on the raft alla dream? Had terror and privation rendered me delirious? Could thesewords, so deeply written in my memory, have been only a wildhallucination? Is this man the same being I almost worshiped then?

"She is dead--oh, heavens! She died last night, with no one near but theslave, and, as the girl Zillah said, without a struggle or a sigh. 

"The slave came to my room just at daylight, weeping and wringing herhands in such distress, that she fairly terrified me, when I saw herstanding in the open door. 

"'Oh, ' she said, tossing her arms on high, 'she is gone, she is gone. ' Iwatched her, young mistress, just like a mother hangs over her sickchild. She made a motion with her hand, --I thought she wanted moredrink, but she turned her face on the pillow, and looked at me so wild, I couldn't turn my eyes away, but sat watching, watching, watching tillher face turned gray under my eyes, and I could see the white edges ofthe teeth, between her lips, as they fell more and more apart. I reachedout my hand to touch hers. It was cold as snow, but her eyes were wideopen, looking straight into mine, dull and heavy, as if they had beenfilling with frost. 

"In the gray light of that morning, I went down to the death chamber. General Harrington and James received me in mournful silence. I had noheart even for unspoken reproaches, there. If ever forgiveness wasglorified, I saw it on that sweet, dear face. 

"We passed a gloomy day. The shock has been terrible to James, terribleto us all--for the General is greatly disturbed, and, as for theslave-girl, her grief is fearful; she raves rather than weeps, andtrembles like an aspen at the mention of her dead lady's name. 

"With the solemn burial services of the Catholic Church, we haveconsigned the remains of this lovely woman to her grave, and now myloneliness is complete. My own poor heart seems to have partaken of thechill that has quenched her life. I am weary of this beautifulland--weary of everything--alone and unloved; for now I am almost suremy own wild brain coined the words that seemed to come from his lips inthe storm--alone, unloved--what remains for me but----

"A great disappointment has fallen upon General Harrington. A will isfound, and every dollar of his wife's property is left to her son. Allthis seems incomprehensible. I pity the proud old man. 

----"It is all over now! Oh, Heaven, that I should have so deceivedmyself! Harrington loves another--Lucy whom he has known almost sincechildhood, and from whom a series of untoward circumstances separatedhim. There is, there can be no doubt--no room for a single hope--theGeneral himself informed me of it to-day. 

"I cannot write--I cannot even think! There is a strange confusion in mybrain--a fever in my heart which give me no rest. I long for some one toadvise me--some one to whom I can look for sympathy--but I have nocounsellor. Kindred--mine are in the grave! Friends--the last one sleepsin the cemetery yonder--in the wide world I am utterly alone. TheGeneral grows kinder to me daily, but to him how could I speak of allthese things? No! I must bury the secret deep, deep in my ownheart--must endure this suffering in silence and alone. 

"I have but one wish now--could I but be the means of uniting JamesHarrington with the woman he loves. The only consolation left to me, would be to know that he was happy, and that it was to me he owed thathappiness. But I can do nothing; the General only hinted at somemysterious history, and he requested me to consider all that he hadrevealed as sacred. Is this the secret? Does Lucy Eaton suspect theunworthiness which it kills me to know?

"Six months in a convent. It is too late to look back, or to retractanything I have promised. I have consented to become GeneralHarrington's wife--to fill the place of one who took me to her heart asif I had been her own child, bestowing upon me the fondness which Icould have no right to claim, except from a mother. 

"The change I had remarked in the General's manner was not fancy, as Istrove to think. He desires to make me his wife. He alluded to ityesterday for the first time, and to-night I gave him my answer. I canbut confess that the arguments he employed were just; a young girl couldnot remain in the house with a man no older than he without beingconnected to him by a nearer tie than that which binds us. He spoke tome very kindly, more gently and tenderly than I had thought he could do. He believes that I have formed no other attachment, or, if not entirelyheart free, it was but a girlish fancy, which had no real basis. Heassures me that I shall be happy as his wife, but my heart answers howimpossible that is! I do not ask happiness--let me but find quiet andcontentment--I seek no more. 

"A year has gone by. We are in America again. General Harrington willjoin me to-morrow. Ay, it is better thus--I would have it over. Perhaps, in the peaceful home I shall find in my native land, I may learn tostill this poor heart to rest. I long to return. 

"_He_ is not here. He left us when we reached Madrid, for the purpose ofentering France through the Basque countries; but this month theGeneral received another letter from him--he is staying in Italy. TheGeneral, it seems, had written that he had obtained my consent to becomehis wife, and the answer is--'Whatever will conduce to your happiness, and that of the lady, must be acceptable to me. '

"Nothing more--not even an expression of astonishment! Yes, it is betterthus! I will marry General Harrington--he is the only being on earth whocares for me--the only one who would seek to render me happy. In a fewyears he will be an old man, and the trust and friendship I now feel, will be sufficient to his contentment. This firm and trusting friendshipI shall always be willing to give. If I do not accept him, where am I toturn for a protector--of what avail is my great wealth, since it cannotwin for me a home in any human heart?

"I marvel at my own calmness--pray Heaven that when too late, I do notfind that it has been only the apathy of despair. I _will_ be calm--myhushed and trembling heart shall at least be silent--by-and-by it will, perhaps, be numbed into insensibility. I can expect nothing more; for Iknow that the uprooted flowers of a love like mine can have nosecond-blossom, the sweet fountain of affection once wasted, its watersmay never flow again. 

"I will write no more in my journal for a season--why should I make thisrecord of my weary life--this plaint of my troubled soul?

"I have suffered the one terrible grief of a lifetime; of what avail toinscribe upon these pages a memento of a lasting wretchedness!"

CHAPTER LVI. 

TOO LATE, TOO LATE. 

"A year to-day since I became a wife, a year into which has been crowdedan eternity of sorrow and regret; can I never learn to endure insilence! Did my husband mean to deceive me when he told me that JamesHarrington was plighted to another. I spoke of it to-day trembling asthe words left my mouth. My husband laughed pleasantly, and answered'oh, child, that was a love ruse. I had a vague fancy that the youngfellow might be in my way, and so disposed of him poetically. There wasnothing in it. The fellow has not spirit enough to win a beautifulwoman. '

"Great Heaven! did he know how faint and cold those words left me--how Ialmost loathed him for this awful fraud. God help me--God help me toforgive him! It seems now as if I never could. How this portion of mylife has passed I hardly know; seldom have I made a record of itssecrets. Much of the time has been spent in the gay world, for myhusband--how strangely the word husband sounds even now--seems to growevery day fonder of its pleasures. The months thus spent have been mostwearisome to me; I like better the calm retreat where I have spent mysummers, with only a few servants to disturb the quiet of the house, andfaithful Ben Benson, who has never left us, to gratify, as if by magic, every wish of his capricious mistress. But there is to be achange--henceforth we are to reside wholly at the North, and _he_ iscoming home to live with us. 

"A new blessing has been granted to me! Forgive me my God, that I havedared thus to repine and forget that Thy protecting care was over me! Iam a mother! My baby sleeps in his cradle by my side, and one glance athis face makes me forget all the misery I have endured. James returnedduring my illness. My heart was too full of its new bliss for any otherfeeling. With my child folded over my heart, I could meet him withoutone of its pulses being stirred--there is a sacredness in the duties Godhas now given me, which I should not have dared profane by one humanregret. 

"He looks ill and careworn--would that I might speak of his affairs, butI can do nothing, though it is fearful to see him thus; to know that hesuffers and feel that I have no power to relieve him. He seems to lovemy baby. Heaven bless him for that! The General's indifference haspained me, but the nurse says men never like children--when he growsolder and his father sees him all that is noble and good he will lovehim; how could he do otherwise?--my precious, precious child. 

"This little girl, poor, forsaken, young, innocent, she seems to havebeen sent to be the companion of my boy. How he loves her already;bending over the cradle where she lies to touch her little face with hisdimpled hands, his great eyes lit up, and his whole countenance aglowwith feeling, such as one seldom witnesses in a child. This is onlyanother kind act for which I have to bless Ben Benson. He found theinfant wandering away from some unknown home in a fearful storm, almostperished, and unable to tell even her name. 

"It is a beautiful child, and the nurse pronounces her a very healthyone. The General seems quite willing that I should adopt her; so I havenow a daughter--the word sounds sweet, very sweet to me. James looks atme strangely as I sit with Lina in my lap, and little Ralph by my side, there is a mournfulness in his face which wrings my very heart;doubtless he reflects upon the happiness denied him--ah! he need notenvy me a few blessings which have been bestowed upon me. 

"Am I happier now! My children are growing all that I could wish. I havewealth, kind friends--say, am I happy? I would not repine nor beungrateful, but, oh! were it not for the little ones Heaven has confidedto my care, how gladly would I seek a quiet resting place in the grave!

"I know now that time cannot alleviate suffering, that nothing can teachthe heart to forget or still it into quietude, save for a little season. Yet my existence is not wholly vain, and while those youthful creaturesneed my care I am willing to live, but there are times when the burdenforced upon my soul seems harder than I can endure. When I fling myselfdown in utter despair, feeling unable to tread longer the weary pathwhich lies before me. 

"It seems to me that I should suffer less could I but see James happy, but his sad silence increases my own pain. He is always gentle and kind, devoted to the children; full of respect and quiet attentions for me;but how changed from the bright youth of former years. How distant thatseason--through what a fearful gloom I look back upon the brightness ofthose summer years! How often I ask myself if I am indeed the dreaminggirl who, in her chamber at Neathcote watching the stars out in a vigilwhich was like a charmed vision, believing that life was to be one longfairy dream of delight. 

"I have been thinking of that sail upon the lake. I could not help it!Ralph brought me some water lilies that he and Lina had gathered; as ifthe odor of those flowers had possessed a spell to conjure up the past, the fleeting happiness of that summer day came back to me. 

"Ralph left me alone, and for a long hour I gave myself up to thefeelings which his simple offering had aroused. I had not thought therecould be so much of passion in my suffering now--the tears I shed burnedmy cheek like flame; and, when the storm gust had spent its might, Ilay back on my couch, weak and faint. 

"I was roused from those haunting memories by voices beneath mywindow--it was _his_ voice; he was conversing with Ralph. I leanedforward, and looked down upon them--then I realized how fearful was thechange which had passed over him. I had been dreaming of him, as heappeared upon that blessed day, and the being I beheld beneath mycasement looked like the ghost of the happy-eyed boy of my vision. 

"O, had he but confided in me--would he but have trusted me as hissister--hush! am I not a wife? Whither have my mad thoughts led me! MyGod, have mercy upon me, stay the terrible tempest which has desolatedmy whole being, and now breathes its deadly simoon through the sepulchrewhich was once a heart. I will neither write, nor think more--there mustbe an end of this weakness--how unlike the fortitude I had promisedmyself to acquire. 

"Yet it seems strange that I have no right to indulge in these memoriesof an era in my existence gone forever! How few and fleeting were thosemoments of unshadowed sunlight; the brightest twin memories which mysoul can recall, were given to me under such different auspices. Of thefirst sweet hour, I have just promised my soul never again tothink--upon the gloomy waters of my existence, no lilies are blossomingnow--the last withered flowers have been torn from their roots, andswept idly down the current to perish, leaving only a faint perfume inmy heart, which is but an added pain. 

"Now I know that its very bliss was a delusion of my fancy, like thewords, I believed to have heard, wrung from Harrington's breast duringthat fearful tempest, when we stood upon the deck of the ill-fatedvessel, and death seemed so near us. Could I have died then, died withhis arms enfolding me, his manly heart against my own, the measure ofmy existence had been complete--it began beneath the sunlight of hissmile, it would have ended with the last life-pulse within his noblebosom. 

"Now I will lay this book aside nor shall my hand again turn its pages, until I have taught myself something of the quiet I have so long strivento attain. If in the sight of Heaven I have sinned, cannot my sufferingsatone for it?--the evil, if evil there has been, was involuntary; thepenitence has been deep and earnest; surely the angels watching over mewill not let it be without avail. 

 * * * * *

"Great heavens! will this heart never have rest--will years do nothingfor me? Ralph is now a man; Lina, one of the most lovely creatures Iever saw. These two children, whose infant kisses seem, even now, uponmy lips, have sprung up into sudden youth, and seem ready to escape mylove. Yesterday, Lina came to me with a world of innocent blushes, andhung about my chair, as if longing to whisper some secret into my ear, yet without the courage to speak. I wondered what the child wanted, butwould not force her confidence. 

"I thank God, oh! I thank my God that I am alive. The terrible shock ofthat night is still through my frame. I have been so close to death, that the vitality at my heart seems unreal. Last night I was hurled intothe depths of the river, that is even now rushing onward to the ocean sonear to my window, that the eternal sweep of its waters haunt me like athreat of death. 

"He saved me--or rather they--for Ben Benson was in the midst of thestorm, resolute, like the other. I must have been dead for a time, for, when my memory came back, it seemed as if I had forgotten all thesemiserable years of married life, and was upon that heaving raft again, with his arms around me, and whispering those low, passionate words inmy ear. Why did that dream come back then? Was it to lay my heart open, and reveal to me how little prayer and time have done to wrest thisfirst and last love from my heart?"

CHAPTER LVII. 

ZILLAH. 

As General Harrington hurried through his wife's journal, his eyes grewbright and cold, like steel when the sun strikes it; his lips, always sosoft and sensual in their expression, became rigid with passion, andclung together hardened by the silent rage that burned in the depths ofhis heart. Had Mabel proved herself vicious or unprincipled in the bookso cruelly purloined, he might have forgiven it; but here the struggleto love him had been so great, that it wounded his self-love in everyfibre. The struggle to love him--General Harrington, the invincible, theadored of so many hearts! "He would soon be an old man, and then thefriendship, which was all her heart could ever give, would content him. _He_ an old man--he who had solemnly determined never to know what ageor infirmity was. " The insult was too much. His outraged vanity hardenedinto absolute malice. For the first time he positively hated the man whocould be loved better than himself. He forgot the self-sacrifice, thewealth given up to his use--the sublime devotion which had made JamesHarrington a guardian angel to Mabel's son. He forgot everything savethat the noble girl he had married for her wealth--wealth even on herwedding-day half squandered at the gaming table, by an unfaithfulguardian, had give the preference of her taste--he cared little for adeeper feeling--to one younger than himself, and that one the man towhom his first wife's wealth had descended in one vast property. 

Was it not enough that the young man had stepped into his place on thedeath of his mother--that when he fancied himself in the untrammelledpossession of her fortune, a will, undreamed of during her life, shouldhave been found, transmitting every dollar of her property into theuncontrolled possession of a son--was not this disappointment enough?Must his self-love and pride be swept into the same vortex? Had bothwives proved their treason against him where he was most sensitive?

The old man would not remember that James Harrington had not onlyallowed him to remain the ostensible possessor of this large fortune, undoubtedly his own just inheritance, but that more than two thirds ofthe annual income had for nearly twenty years been surrendered to hisunquestioned disposal. He forgot that Mabel's fortune had melted away atthe gaming-table without inquiry or protest on her part, and that, infact, his own luxurious life was fostered only by their magnanimousbounty. All these things were ignored in his rage at the secretsrevealed in that unhappy journal, and he really believed himself themost wronged and outraged of human beings--wronged because the womanwhom he had first married for her wealth alone, had divined the truth, and left all that she possessed to her son, which seemed a new offenseto him then--and outraged that any woman honored by his preference, should ever have given another place in her thoughts. His grounds foranger went no deeper than this at the moment, for even his stony heartwould not give birth to a thought of wrong against Mabel, beyond theerring love so feelingly regretted in every line of that book; but therewas a tempter at hand, ready to infuse venom into even his selfishnature. 

General Harrington sat with the book open before him. One hand, onwhich was a costly seal-ring, had, in unconscious warmth, grasped adozen of the leaves, and half-torn them from the cover, while his eyeread on, fascinated, and yet repulsed by the secret thoughts thus tornwith unmanly violence from poor Mabel's life. All the craft and coolnessof his nature had disappeared for the moment. His whole being was firedwith disgust and bitter rage. Still, in his soul, he felt that these twopersons had in reality suffered a deadly wrong from himself; that, afterencouraging the attachment which he had hoped might spring up betweenthem before his wife's death had swept her great wealth out of hishands, he had ruthlessly, and without questioning the state of these twosouls, severed them for the accomplishment of his own interests. It hadnot once occurred to him that any lasting attachment for another couldexist, while he condescended to solicit a woman's preference; and thatwhich had for a time made itself manifest between the two young people, only gave a fresher zest to his conquest. To win a woman from one somuch younger than himself, was even then, a triumph almost as agreeableas the possession of Mabel's fortune. 

But now, when he was beginning to feel the approach of age, and towither under the preference given to younger men--a preference renderedeach day more decided in a country where statesmen are jostled aside bybeardless boys, and the senseless giggle of pert school girls mightdrive Sappho into a second watery grave, sickened with disgust. Hispersonal vanity became almost a monomania, and he sat there, clutchingMabel's book, pale as death, and with flecks of foam gathering upon hislips, longing to appease his mortified vanity by tearing fiercely atsomething, as a baffled hound digs his claws into the earth when hisprey is beyond reach. 

As he sat there shaking with silent rage, a door, not used for years, opened in his bed-chamber, and a woman came through, leaving the darkand dusty room which had for a short time been occupied by the firstMrs. Harrington, before her fatal voyage to Europe, in total darknessagain. She stood for a moment, concealed by the crimson curtains, andkeenly watched the old man, as he sat trembling before her in the firstrage of his humiliation. Then, having satisfied herself that her hourwas propitious, she stole softly into the library, and dropping one armsoftly over General Harrington's shoulder, stooped down and kissed hisforehead. The old man started, looked up, and a faint laugh, almostchildish in the sudden reaction from which it sprung, broke from hislips. 

"Zillah, my beautiful, my true-hearted, is it you?"

The woman dropped on one knee, trembling from head to foot. Someendearing epithet, uttered in French, which converted the laugh on hislips into a smile, broke as it were, unconsciously from her; and he feltthe arm upon his shoulder shiver like the wing of a bird just as itsettles after flight. 

He answered her in French, and his eyes, full of gratitude for the balmher emotion brought to his vanity, sought hers. 

"Zillah, you loved me. I am at least sure of that!"

"Loved!" said the woman, lifting her black eyes, to his face. "Loved mymaster. You speak as if such feelings were not eternal; to say that yourpoor slave loved once, is nothing; turn over every leaf of her heart, and you will find the same record upon them all. Thank Heaven, I am notentirely white! There is enough of tropical fire in my blood, to save mefrom burying my soul under the ashes of a dead love. "

"How beautiful you are still, " muttered the old man, passing his palmover the black waves of her hair, with a light caress. "Your presencekindles the very atmosphere. This is to be worshipped worthily. Youloved me, and I sold you for her sake. I bartered you off for so muchmoney to another; it was a cruel act, Zillah; but your love surmountedeven that, while hers"----

"She never loved you; never--never!" cried the woman, passionately. "I, I alone of all the women on earth, really loved you. As for her"----

"Hush, Zillah, hush! I know all. I have read that book. I know all hertreachery; and he, ever a serpent in my path, ever a restraint upon myactions, he has in this point also assailed me. "

"But there is revenge!" said the woman, with a fierce gleam of the eyes;"revenge on him and her!"

"No!" answered the General, gloomily. "To anger him, would be to makemyself a beggar. I must bear this in silence. "

"Not if he loves her yet. "

"But, does he? What man ever remained faithful to a first love twentyyears?"

A faint moan broke from the woman's lips, and dropping her face betweenher hands, she cowered at his feet, as if he had stricken her down witha blow, instead of those cruel words that no physical pain can equal, when they fall upon a woman's heart. 

"What is the matter, Zillah? Why do you moan and droop in this fashion?"said the General, quite unconscious of the pang he had given. 

The woman looked up; her eyes were heavy with pain, and a scarcelyperceptible quiver stirred her mouth. 

"He sold me, and I lived; this cannot kill me either, " she murmureddrearily. 

"Oh, " said the General, smiling, for he began to divine the cause of herstricken attitude. "But remember, Zillah, you were not my _first_ love. I was no boy when we met, and it was of boyish dreams that I spoke. "

CHAPTER LVIII. 

GENERAL HARRINGTON'S TEMPTATION. 

Zillah drew a deep breath, and raised herself up, like a panther which aball has grazed. A wild illumination shot over her face, and seizing theGeneral's hands, she kissed them passionately. 

"Foolish creature, " said the General, soothed in the depths of hisvanity by this devotion. 

"You did love me, " she said, with a wistful look; "you did love me?"

"Yes--yes. "

"And, it is all over?"

He looked down into her face. No girl of sixteen, in her first lovequarrel, ever wore a look so full of anxiety, so tremulous with hope anddoubt. 

"Oh, I cannot say that, Zillah. There is something piquant, evenpicturesque, about you, that one does not readily forget, or everdislike; besides, real earnest love is better worth having, after thedomestic treason which I have just discovered. "

Again the woman's eyes blazed forth their sudden joy. She arose from hisfeet, restless and eager. 

"She has wronged you--she has embittered my life. I was your slave--lether become so. Then shall we both have vengeance!"

"And beggary with it, " answered the General, bitterly. "No, no, Zillah, I am not so fond of vengeance as that; besides, hers is only a sin offeeling, and she seems to have suffered for it. "

The woman turned white, till the dusky shadows under her eyes seemedblack by contrast. 

"A sin of feeling!" she almost shrieked, seizing the vellum book, andturning over the crushed leaves rapidly with her trembling hands. "Youhave not read all. You have only glanced at passages, perhaps!"

"And they have been sufficiently unpleasant. I do not care to searchfarther!"

Zillah still turned over the leaves, tearing them more than once in herrude haste. Her fierce eyes glanced from passage to passage. At length, like a hawk pouncing upon its prey, she opened the book wide, andpressed her hand hard upon a page which seemed more hastily written thanthe rest, for it was blotted and broken up, evidently full ofexclamations and bursts of passionate thought. 

"Read that!" said the woman, pressing her finger upon the page till theblood was strained back to the wrist, leaving the hand pallid as marble. "Read that!"

The General took up the journal, and read. Again that expression ofwhite rage crept over his face, and a smile rose up to his mouth, coiling around it like a viper. 

"Yes, " he said, hoarsely. "This means something. It is her ownconfession. "

"It is enough to crush her forever!" cried the woman. 

"Yes, yes, that society may laugh at me as a dupe; vengeance is sweet, but I cannot afford it. To assail her, would be to arm him against me. "

"And you will submit to this wrong?" cried the woman, while her eyesflashed fire and her lips writhed in scorn. 

"Submit, no--my fiery Zillah; but the richest enjoyments of life shouldbe tasted daintily--a noisy revenge is not to my taste. "

"But you will live with this woman yet?"

The General smiled meaningly. 

"She will, perhaps, remain under my roof. "

"And you will not take away the name she has disgraced?" persistedZillah, pale with suspense. 

"You are a little too fast there, my friend. A name is never dishonoredby anything kept secret within the bosom of a family. Disgrace is thescorn of society, and how can the world scorn that which it does notknow?"

"But it shall know. I will myself proclaim this infamy!" cried thewoman, clenching her hand, and shaking from head to foot with internalrage. 

The General cast on her a look half-surprised, half-amused. 

"Ah, Zillah, and who on earth of our world can you know, or--if thatwere possible--what would your word be against the life of a woman souniversally admired and beloved, as my wife has been?"

"But, I will prove what I say by that book. "

"Which is just now in my possession, where it is likely to remain. Becontent, beautiful Zillah. The fate of Mabel Harrington rests with me. Ishall not trust her to your jealous rage. "

"To my jealous rage!" repeated Zillah, hardening down in her passiontill she seemed turning to marble from a single effort of will. "Ithought of your honor, not of my own wrongs. I struggle against contemptfor the man whom I have so long and so miserably loved. "

"Contempt, Zillah?"

"Yes, sir, contempt. Even your slave has a right to despise the man whoconnives at his own dishonor. "

"Woman, are you mad!--but no matter. I am too weary for much anger. Youshould have remembered of old that I hate scenes. This has been gottenup with too much intensity. I am tired of it. "

"I see, I see!" replied the woman, resuming her slave-like submission. "You are tired, with no one to care about it. Let me serve you oncemore. "

Zillah went to a marble console in another part of the room, poured outa glass of wine, and, sinking gently at his feet, presented it after theOriental fashion which he had taught her years before. 

He took the wine and drank it off, dropping his hand carelessly upon hershoulder as he returned the glass. The woman sat gazing into his face, her brow knitted, and her eyes full of thought. 

"Then you shrink from a public exposure in this matter?" she said atlast, bending her head on one side and touching his hand with her lips, which fell upon it cold as ice, so deep was the craft and so cruel wasthe passion that prompted this caress. 

"I shrink from purchasing revenge at the cost of everything that renderslife worth having. Once for all, Zillah, to quarrel with JamesHarrington is to give up all that I enjoy. Of my wife's fortune, nothingbut this old mansion, and some fragments of real estate, remain. Myfirst wife, as you know, left every dollar of her property to James, else the marriage which has created all this turmoil would never havetaken place. Up to this hour, the young man has given me almost theentire control of his income. Mrs. Harrington has no idea that herproperty has not always supplied our income. To assail them, is toexpose my own losses at the gambling-table--both while I was herguardian and her husband--I only wish the accursed book had neverreached my hands. So long as she was acknowledged the most correct andsplendid woman in society, what was her heart and its secrets to me? Itell you, I am tied to silence in this matter, and your interference canbut annoy me. "

"Not if I point out the way by which the vengeance you pant for mayenrich yourself, " said the woman, arousing from her thoughtfulness. 

"Oh, that would be a discovery, indeed. "

"James Harrington loves the lady. "

"I am not so sure of that; but, suppose it so, what then?"

"Legal separations are easy in this country. Let her go to one of thoseStates where incompatibility of temper, absence, or caprice, is deemedsufficient reason for divorce. This will be generous, and they must begrateful for a forbearance that she has no right to expect. Half hisfortune--nay, the whole of it--will be little to ask in return. "

"Woman, has a fiend or angel put this thought into your head?"

"Both; if love is an angel, and hate a fiend. "

"And, what can you expect from this?"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing! This is not true, Zillah!"

"Is it hoping much, when I only wish to be a slave again?"

"My poor Zillah; and did you, indeed, care for me so much?"

The woman fell down upon her knees, buried her face between both hands, and burst into a passion of tears. 

The General was annoyed; there was something too much like a scene inthe attitude and tears of his former slave. He leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a glance of cynical impatience. She caught the look, as her hands fell apart; and the hot blood that rushed over her faceseemed to burn up her tears. She broke into a smile, and arose, sweepinga hand across her eyes fiercely, as if to punish them for weeping. 

"There, there, I will go now. It is a long time since I have been sofoolish. "

General Harrington smiled; the flush of her face and the brilliant mistwhich tears had left in her eyes, reminded him of past years, when hehad, from mere wantonness, provoked those passionate outbursts, in orderto kindle up the beauty of her face. 

"But you have forgotten to say how you obtained entrance into my privateapartments. I trust no one saw you come in. "

"No one that could recognize me. I became too well acquainted with thehouse when we stopped here with my old mistress, on our way to Europe, for any need of a door. The balconies are too near the ground for that. "

"And how long had you been waiting in my bed-chamber, then?" continuedthe General, pleased with the prompt return of her cheerfulness. 

"All the time that you were reading. I only sought to look on you againfrom a distance, and would have escaped without disturbing you, had itbeen possible. "

The General smiled complacently. After the outrage suffered by hisself-love, this devotion soothed him greatly. 

"My poor Zillah!" he said, with a sort of compassion in his voice, "poorZillah!"

She did not answer him, and when he turned a moment after to learn thecause, her place was empty. Like some gorgeous wild bird, she hadlighted at his feet a moment, and flown away. But the vellum-book was inhis hands, and her wicked counsel lay folded close among the evil thingsin his heart. 

CHAPTER LIX. 

A STORM IN THE WOODS. 

And Lina wandered off, deep, deep into the woods--her head aching withovercharged thought, her heart lying wounded and cold in her bosom. Hourafter hour she toiled on, wild with the pain of her new sorrow. Itseemed to her that intense action could only bring rest. Thus, sheclambered hill after hill, drew herself up the steep face of many a rockthat, at another time, would have defied her efforts, and waded, knee-deep, in drifts of dead leaves that choked up the hollows. Sometimes she would stop suddenly, out of breath, and panting with thefatigue of her aimless exertions. But after looking wildly about, as ifin fear of pursuit, she would dart off again, perhaps retreading therough path she had left. At last, she sat down, exhausted, at the footof a tree, and looked around in bitter despair as she saw the woodsdarken overhead, and felt a soft storm of snow flakes floating dreamilyover her. 

The poor child was numb and cold. Her very breath seemed turning to iceupon her lips. But for the little hound that crept up to her bosom, andlay patiently there, with its slender head laid upon her shoulder, andits limbs trembling with the cold, she would have perished. But thewarmth from this little animal's body kept the vitality in her poorheart, and instead of death, a drowsiness fell upon her, which wouldperhaps have ended in a wakeless sleep. But just as she was sinking awayinto that deathly torpor from which few are aroused, a female figurecame, floating like a dark bird of prey, through the storm, now obscuredby the thick interlacing of naked branches, and again dimmed in herapproach by the veil of virgin snow-flakes that filled the air. 

The hound lifted its slender head, gave a faint whine and lay down againmotionless, but with his vigilant eyes on the shadowy figure thatapproached. That pale face was evidently known to the dog, or he wouldnot have rested there so peacefully, though it moved through the fallingsnow, like a phantom which might disappear with the slightest sound. 

Close to the prostrate girl it came--that sinister, white face--and thefigure stooped from under the folds of its black and ample cloak, towhisper in the cold ear of Lina French. 

"Go to the house upon the hill-side. There your mother is waiting foryou. "

Lina struggled like one aroused from the thrall of a nightmare. Theword mother had broken up the ice at her heart. She pushed the houndfrom her bosom, and staggering to her feet, looked to the right andleft. No one was near. The pale quiver of the snow flakes, and the nakedtree boughs, trembling and sighing together, was all that she could makeout. But the word mother still sounded in her ear, and the sentenceuttered to her sleep grew trumpet-toned, and seemed wailed back to herby the storm. 

"'The house upon the hill-side!' where is it?" she cried. "Which wayshall I go? Answer me, thou voice of the storm! is it north or south, tothe right or left? Answer me--or if I am indeed mad, be silent and letme die!"

Then, through the drifting snow flakes that settled down heavier andheavier, there came a voice clear and musical, like the low tones of aflute, half-singing, half-speaking, which might have been the disguiseof some voice that feared detection. 

"To the southward--to the southward, where a hearth gives forth itswhite smoke, and your mother awaits her child. "

Then, with a wild laugh, ending in sobs that wasted themselves on thesilence, Lina sprang away southward, always with the storm beating inher face, and the snow weltering like a shroud around her feet. 

Sometimes she would pause in a rift of the hills and look wistfully uponthe bed of sere leaves and feathery snow, tempting her to sink down anddie, with the grim hemlock boughs, plumed with snow wreaths droopingover her, and lulled by the gurgle of unseen waters wandering to theriver, under their jewelled network of ice, but she resisted theimpulse, and still bent her way to the south, while the little dog, sodelicate and yet so faithful, rushed after her without a whine, as if heknew, gentle creature, that a cry of pain, added to her own sorrow, would be enough to smite away all her insane strength and leave herprostrate upon the white earth. 

At last she came out of the woods upon a hill-side covered with thetangled undergrowth that follows a fire upon the hills. The trunk of anold cedar tree, blackened and charred to the roots, warned her of aclose approach to the river, and in the distance she saw a wreath of dimsmoke curling up through the snow. Leaving the cedar-tree on her right, Lina toiled up the hill, and crossed a ravine darkened with great whitepines and spruce trees. At the bottom, a mountain stream broke throughten thousand fairy chains of ice, and melting the pearly foam of thesnow as it fell, sent it leaping downward in a torrent that seemed halfdiamonds, half pearl drifts, under which the pure waters went singingsoftly on their way to the river. 

Lina did not heed the gentle warning of the waters, but sprang forwardin wild haste. Her step shattered the glittering ice right and left, andthe cold water gushed over her feet and garments, but she moved onwithout pause, climbing up the banks of the stream till a smoothplatform of snow, and a house whose windows were fitfully revealed bypale gleams of light, evidently from a half buried fire, stood beforeher. 

She drew near to the house, standing there in the darkness, and began tostagger, for now the unnatural strength which had nerved her, gave way. The icy waters of the brook froze into fetters, around her ankles, andshe fell, without a sigh or moan, with her face toward the earth. 

The poor little hound, after pulling at her garments with piteouswhines, set up a howl that rang mournfully over the snow waste around. Lina did not move. She was sensible, but utterly strengthless. All thatshe had suffered was lost in a single desire to be still, and sleep ordie. 

The howl of her poor, shivering companion, so sharp and plaintive inreality came to her ear as if from a great distance, and for once shestruggled to call Fair-Star by name, and tell him where she was, but herlips gave forth no sound, and when the dog set up another cry, Lina didnot hear it. 

CHAPTER LX. 

THE DARK-HOUSE. 

In less than an hour after Lina French fell so helplessly upon the snowdrifted around that old house, the storm swept by, and forcing theleaden clouds aside, came the moon, followed by ten thousand stars, thatshone calmly and pure in the frosty atmosphere. Directly, brightscintillations of frost arose upon the white waste of snow, and thewhole earth seemed crusted with diamond dust. The midnight was supremelybeautiful, and the stillness around that old house had something thatseemed holy in it, but now and then a faint howl broke over theglittering hills, which gave warning that sorrow, pain, and, perhaps, death were near. 

A woman coming up from the shore heard the cry, and stopped to listen. She, too, was weary and panting from a toilsome struggle with the storm. But a cloak of soft Russian sables and a hood of crimson silk protectedher as far as it was possible from the weather. Still her feet sunkheavily in the snow at each step, and her footprints filled with shadowsas she passed on, blackening her way over the universal whiteness thatcovered the earth. Thus it had always been in her life--that woman nevermoved without leaving shadows and darkness behind her. 

She came forward, guided by the wail of Fair-Star, tramping down thesnow and breathing heavily, from her up-hill toil. 

At last her searching eyes detected the black sleeve, which fell awayfrom an arm flung upward, as if its owner had made a vain effort toprevent herself falling. And there prone upon the earth, her garmentsfrozen stiff, till they rattled to the touch, and covered with a slightsprinkling of snow, which had fallen off in waves during her strugglesto rise, the woman found Lina French. 

A cold, half-sneering smile at the easy success of her own schemes, stole over the woman's face, but as she stooped and touched the coldhand with her finger, the smile gave way to a look of affright, andbending down, she raised the prostrate girl in her arms, tearing hergarments up from the ice, and wrenching open a little gate, before whichLina had fallen, bore her into the house. 

Fair-Star followed, shivering and whining, with a piteous attempt atjoy, and, after a moment, both the mistress and her hound lay upon amattress the woman had dragged from the next room, and spread upon thehearth-stone, which a bed of hot ashes had kept warm. With a look ofwild apprehension, the woman whom we have seen in her rooms at New York, and later, in General Harrington's library--proceeded to divest the coldform before her of its frozen garments. 

She took the fur mantle from her shoulders, and folded it over theinsensible girl; then dragging blankets and quilts from the next room, heaped them over her, burying poor little Fair-Star up with hismistress, while she proceeded to rake open the fire and throw armfulafter armful of dry wood upon it. The woman was evidently well preparedfor this task of humanity, for, as the fire blazed up and went roaringin a volume of flame through the chimney, she began to chafe the smallhands and feet buried in those blankets, and from time to time rubbedthe pale lips with brandy. 

It was long before the half-perished girl began to feel the warmth, great as it was. The woman kept on her labor patiently, but she grewpaler and more anxious each moment, fearing that the young creature wasreally dead. At last, the little hound, revived by the warmth, crept upto the pale bosom of his mistress, and began to lick her face. Eitherthe animal warmth so close to her heart, or some more powerful impulseof nature followed this act with a thrill of life. Lina did not open hereyes, but softly, as the limbs move in a dream, her arms foldedthemselves over Fair-Star, and a tear stole from under her tremblinglashes, chasing away those that had melted on her cheeks. 

Zillah regarded her with a look of profound satisfaction. She had placeda cup of spiced wine on the hearth, ready for use, and with her softvoice and caressing touch, now bent over the girl. 

"Take this, " she said, holding the spicy draught to Lina's lips. "Drink, it is warm and invigorating--after that you can sleep. "

Lina opened her eyes and looked dreamily at the woman, but her handswandered as she attempted to take the cup, and she had no power to lifther head. 

Zillah put her arm softly beneath the drooping head, and raised it toher bosom. Then with gentle words of persuasion she lifted the cup, andLina drank off the wine with thirsty eagerness. Her eyes were open andlifted to the strange face bending over her with a glance, half wonder, half content, as we often remark in an infant when its hunger issatisfied, and it lies with drops of milk trembling like pearls upon thered of its lips. 

"My child--my child!" whispered Zillah, pressing her lips down upon theforehead of the passive young creature, "my child!" As the kiss touchedher forehead, Lina uttered a sharp cry, for, with that keen intuition, which is a rare and sometimes fatal gift, she felt the moral poison ofthat kiss in all her veins, and began to struggle in the woman'sembrace, but without the power to cast it off. 

Zillah's brow blackened, and her eyes shot forth gleams of anger, butthe hushing tones of her voice were unbroken, and she made a gentleeffort to cradle the restless head once more upon her bosom. Lina ceasedto resist. Some narcotic had evidently been mingled with her drink, forthe white lids fell drowsily over her eyes, and she surrendered herselfmore and more helplessly to that evil embrace, dropping at last into aheavy slumber, that seemed like death. 

The woman soon wearied of her position, and after a little, thrust thesleeping girl from her bosom with a degree of loathing quite equal tothat Lina had suffered under her first kiss. 

"There is no danger that she will be found dead on my hands now, " shemuttered, huddling the blankets rudely over the prostrate girl, "let hersleep while I take a little care of myself. This awful night has almostkilled me. I wonder the girl is alive. "

The woman drew a chair close to one end of the hearth after preparing afresh cup of the spiced wine, which she sipped with thoughtful slownesswhile her eyes were fixed on the pale face at her feet. 

"This snow has proved unfortunate, " she muttered. "I fear that nocarriage will be able to cut through it, and in this place she willprove very troublesome. Still, Agnes may be trusted, even against thestorm; the girl has a spirit that will conquer anything, when herpassions are concerned. Heavens, how cold it is! I can hear the snowcrack, the frost crusts it so suddenly over; the window-panes seemcurtained over with lace, which the moonbeams are turning to silver; itis a bitter cold night. I fancy half an hour more would have settled allthings for the young lady. How she sleeps; but there is unrest abouther yet. She knits her brows and moans in her dreams, as if some enemywere near. Oh, ha! ha! my pretty hound, what is the matter now?"

Fair-Star had provoked this question by thrusting his head out fromunder the blankets, and giving a low bark, as if disturbed by somethingthat he disliked. 

"Hush!" said the woman, sharply. "Hush, sir!" and she listened keenlyfor the noise that had disturbed him. 

It was a quick footstep on the snow-crust--a fluttering sound near thewindow; and then the keen eyes of the woman saw a hand softly brushingaway the frost traceries on the window, and a human face lookingthrough. Zillah arose with an eager look, and opened the door. 

"Agnes, is it you?"

"I should like to know what other person you expect?" said the girl in awhisper. 

"She is sound asleep, of course; trust you for that. "

"Yes, yes, " said the woman; "but, have you brought the carriage? Cananything penetrate this depth of snow?"

"Not a carriage, certainly; but I have a sleigh and two good horsesoutside. It will be a hard drag, but she must be out of his reach beforemorning. "

"And you expect me to go out again, this bitter cold night?" said thewoman, shuddering. "I would rather run some risks than attempt it. "

"Nonsense, nonsense!" exclaimed the young woman, speaking more boldly asshe saw the deathly nature of Lina's slumber. "The whole thing must bearranged before sunrise, and I safe at home again. This has been aterrible night; I almost despaired of reaching you!"

"And who comes with you?"

"Your own people; no one else. "

"But the cold!"

"It is nothing, with cushions and plenty of buffalo robes. An hour willtake you safely into the city. I must be let out on the way, and gethome on foot. Come, are you ready?"

"In a moment--in a moment!" answered Zillah, gathering up her furs, andputting on a warm hood. "But, how can we get her dressed and out to thesleigh? Her clothes are like ice; they were absolutely frozen down!"

"Here, here!" cried Agnes, going into the inner room, and coming forthwith some dark garments across her arms; "fortunately, I left thesethings at home. We must get them on, as she sleeps. There is no fear ofwaking her, I suppose?"

"No, no! Make haste, if it must be to-night!"

The two women lifted Lina from her couch upon the floor; arranged her inthe garments that Agnes had selected; and, wrapping her in a largecloak, bore her between them out to a sleigh that had been drawn up nearthe house. 

The driver appeared quite prepared for the singular appearance of a girlevidently insensible, for he flung back the fur robes without anyappearance of curiosity; and, when the women had taken their places, drove away as rapidly as the drifted snow would permit. 

CHAPTER LXI. 

STRANGE PLANS. 

When Lina awoke, she was alone in a chamber that seemed both unfamiliarand unpleasant, though sumptuous objects met her on every side. Theatmosphere was stifling, as if some pastilles had just been burned init, and a heavy pain in the head flung a mistiness all around. She wassurprised to find herself dressed in garments strange as the room; butthe heavy aching of all her limbs, and the glow of coming fever in hercheek, rendered connected thought impossible. She dropped asleep again, but only to be aroused by a soft tread that stole through her room, andthe breath of some person bending downward, which made her shudder, asif it had been the poison of a upas tree floating across her mouth. 

"Are you better, Lina? are you awake?"

"Who speaks?" cried the girl, starting wildly up. "Where am I--and whocalls me Lina?"

"It is your mother who speaks--it is her house that shelters you. "

"My mother? oh, Father of Heaven! now I remember: take me hence--take mehence!"

"My child, " said the woman Zillah, stepping out from the curtains thathad half concealed her; "let me look into your eyes, and see if theydare turn in scorn or rebukingly from mine. Sit up, girl, and let meread your face!"

"I cannot, I cannot; my head reels--my heart aches with a pain that willnever go away;" cried the poor girl, bending forward and striving toshut out the woman's face with both her clasped hands. "God help me; Iwould rather die now!"

The woman went softly up to that excited young creature, and, placingone hand on her forehead, pressed her gently back upon the pillow fromwhich she had started so wildly. 

"I am your mother. Look at me--I am your mother!"

Lina lifted her feverish eyes, and looked in that face, so repulsive andyet so beautiful, with a strained, wild gaze, that burned with abrilliancy more terrible than fever. 

"I do not know you!" she cried, dashing the woman's hands aside. "Let merest--I do not know you!"

"But, I am your mother. "

"Well, go on and tell the whole story!" cried Lina, with insanevehemence. "I know who my father is--he told me himself; but you, madam--you with those strange eyes, and that proud stoop of the head, how came you to be my mother? Don't you know that General Harrington hasa wife, and that Ralph is her son. What are you, then, and what am I?"

"I was General Harrington's slave, and you are my daughter. You need notlook at me, with those great wondering eyes. I would have broken thismore kindly, but you receive me as if I were your slave--not his. Youreject me--so be it; but my blood is in your veins, and my shame on yourforehead. You cannot shake it off; it will cling around you like acurse, forever and ever. Now sleep if you can!"

A shrill cry broke from the poor young creature, who had fallen forwardgrovelling in the bed. She struggled to get up, but her limbs were numb, and refused to move. She flung her clasped hands wildly out, and theprayer that she strove to utter broke forth in a sound, that bore withit the last sane thought that she was to know for weeks. 

CHAPTER LXII

THE TEMPTATION. 

"Gen. Harrington wants to see you!"

A new chambermaid had been introduced into Gen. Harrington's household, and it was this woman who addressed James Harrington as he sat in theremote chamber which had fallen to his lot in a wing of the familymansion. 

Harrington looked up as the mulatto presented herself, startled by thesouthern accent and appearance of the woman, which struck himdisagreeably; when she moved away, with her indolent walk andindifferent air, he watched her with a sense of relief of which he washimself unconscious. 

"The General am in his own room, " she muttered in answer to hisquestion, turning back as she spoke, "something don't seem to 'gree withhim somehow this mornin', 'pears like he ain't right well. "

The unpleasant impression left by this woman passed but partially away;trifles sometimes affect sensitive characters with a feeling of unrestlong after the cause is displaced from the memory; disturbed by thisshadowy feeling, James arose and sought General Harrington's room, wondering a little in his mind what the business might be whichoccasioned this unusual request for an interview. He passed the mulattowoman in one of the passages, who retreated to the wall and stood withher gaze bent on the floor as he passed, but the moment his back wasturned the sleepy lids rose suddenly from over her black eyes thatflamed out with evil passions, and a repulsive smile stirred her mouthtill it worked like a nest of reptiles. Again an unpleasant sensationcrept over James Harrington, and he hurried forward with anunconquerable desire to escape her presence. 

He found General Harrington alone, surrounded by the luxuriousappointments which distinguished his apartments above all others in thehouse; but the old man was restless and even pallid, as if some unusualmoral force had been necessary to urge on this interview with a managainst whom he meditated a temptation so atrocious. 

For the first moment these two men stood regarding each other insilence. General Harrington stood up at his visitor's approach, but allhis self-possession was insufficient to keep his limbs from tremblingand the color from fleeing his face. The painful compression of his lipsgrew more rigid, and a cold glitter stole into his eyes as they met thecalm questioning gaze fixed upon them. 

"You desired to speak with me, sir, " said James Harrington at length, with that gentle respect which had become a habit of self-control, rather than a genuine impulse of reverence for the man before him. 

"Yes, sit down, " said the General, with a cold harshness of tone so atvariance with his usual bland insincerity, that James Harrington lookedat him in grave surprise, as he drew a seat toward the library table. For a moment there was profound silence between the two; then theGeneral turned stiffly in his chair, placed one hand on a book withbroken clasps that lay before him, and spoke. There was something morethan bitterness in his voice; it was harsh with poisonous malice. 

"Mr. James Harrington, you loved my wife before I married her, " he said, with rude abruptness, that made his auditor rise from his chair, paleand aghast. 

"Sir, sir!" broke from his white lips. 

"Before and since; before and since! Do you understand, sir, yourhypocrisy is at last exposed? I say again"----

"Stop!" said James Harrington, lifting his hand with authority, thoughit shook like an aspen. "Stop, sir; you are dealing with things thatonly God himself has power to scrutinize. For my acts, sir, you have aright to arraign me; and there I will answer you with the frankness of alittle child, for as childhood they are innocent. "

James Harrington stood upright as he spoke, with one arm folded acrosshis chest, guarding the secret which that old man was attempting towrench from his heart with such ruthless cruelty. 

"Innocent!" sneered the old man; "innocent! But I do not blame you, sir!Among men of honor, it is a gentleman's duty to lie broadly and boldlywhere a lady's reputation is at stake. You have enough of the Harringtonblood in your veins to deny this woman's guilt with sufficientindignation; but I, sir, am not mad or blind enough to believe you. "

The very might of his emotions kept James Harrington still as helistened to these scathing words. He sat down very quietly, and gazedinto the old man's face, shocked to the soul, yet unable to comprehendthe reality of a charge so atrocious. 

"Will you explain?" he faltered. 

"I have explained sufficiently, sir! You loved the lady, and she"----

"Hush! sir; say what you will of me, but do not dare to utter MabelHarrington's name in this connection. The angels of Heaven are not moreblameless than that woman. "

"Indeed!" sneered the old man again, dashing open the book before him, and clenching his hand fiercely among its leaves. "Read, sir, read!"

James Harrington reached out his hands, and took the volume held towardhim; it had been opened at random, and the passage that met his eyecontained a pathetic appeal to Heaven for help to conquer the passionwhich Mabel confessed to herself as a grievous fault. 

The blood rushed athwart James Harrington's forehead as he read; forthrough the mist that floated over his eyes and brain, he recognizedMabel's handwriting, and felt how coarsely her unhappiness was beingrevealed to his own heart, which had hardly dared to suspect it before. He was bewildered by the suddenness with which this subject had beenforced upon him, and for a moment sat like one fascinated, gazing inpale wonder at the written characters that proved how much he had beenbeloved. 

"Read on!" said the old man. "It is a book which makes researchpleasant. Read it through, sir, and then, if you can, repeat thegentlemanly lie which contradicts her own written confession. "

James closed the book reverently, and laid it down. 

"I have been surprised into reading a few words that should have beenkept sacred--it was not my fault, I was bewildered; but no power onearth could induce me to open that book again, though I am very certainnothing can be found in it which an angel need condemn; for, if anhonorable and upright woman lives on earth, it is the lady who bearsyour name. "

"You dare not read the proofs of her dishonor, and yours!"

"I deny that such proofs exist, or can exist!"

General Harrington opened the book, and glanced at the passage which hadjust been read. 

"Even here, she confesses her love; you have seen it in her ownhandwriting--the whole world shall see not only this passage, but thewhole book. I will scatter its pages broadcast over the country. See, then, if your denial will shield her from universal scorn. "

"You could not do this!"

"I can!"

"She would die under the first bitter sneer. "

"Let her die, then! The woman who marries a Harrington, should at leastlearn not to commit herself. "

James Harrington shrunk back in his seat, appalled by the vision ofhumiliation that opened itself before him. He saw Mabel's name bandiedfrom lip to lip with pity or sneers, by the very society in which shehad been held in so much honor. He saw her reputation, so spotless now, consigned to a thousand reckless presses, each tearing her secret forthwith its cruel iron fingers, crushing it into some slanderous shapebetween its ponderous cylinders, and hurling it, blackened with lies andcoarse jests, scoffingly to the world. 

He saw the effect of this murderous publicity upon Mabel herself, whenit should recoil back to her. She, so generous, so kindly, and yet soproud--how would she endure this outrage upon feelings held secretalmost from her prayers--feelings struggled against and forced backwithout a word of utterance, save when they broke forth in the pages ofa journal locked so vigilantly from all eyes but her own; that lucklessjournal to open which seemed like pillaging her proud heart. 

Would she yield at once to the extreme delicacy of her nature, andshrinking away from notice, perish under this rude publicity?--or, struggling against it, go mad, and die like an eagle striving to keepits wings poised on high, though pierced with a thousand arrows. He knewthat she would resist to the last. The exquisite sensitiveness whichrendered her so unlike ordinary women, was matched with a strength ofwill which would give suffering its keenest power. It would not bedeath--that is the relief of weaker natures--but relentless life--lifefull of those torturing agonies that trample every upspringing joy fromthe heart. Compared to this life, poisoned in all its sources, deathwould be a sweet dream to a woman like Mabel. The intense vitality ofher own nature, would be its torment. 

As this picture rose upon his brain, James Harrington shrouded his face, silent and appalled. His strong heart was racked to the centre--atortuous strain closed in upon his nerves, and for the time, that stout, brave man was helpless as a child. 

"You love this woman yet, I see. "

General Harrington's voice had resumed its usual slow intonation. Thefirst anger had left it with a harsh, cold attempt at composure; hiseyes moved from object to object, and his soft white fingers workednervously with the tassel of his dressing-gown: if at any moment of hislife this old man could have been awkward, it must have been then, forhe was too keen-sighted not to feel his own meanness, but not honestenough to crush it beneath his feet. 

"You love this woman yet?"

James Harrington dashed the hands away from his pale face, and satupright. 

"Ask me that, or anything else that appertains only to my own feelings, and I will answer. I did love the woman you married with every power ofmy soul!"

"And now?"

"Now, sir, and from the day she took your name, she has been sacred tomy thoughts, as an angel in Heaven. "

General Harrington smiled incredulously. 

"I have answered the simple truth, sir, " said James, in reply to thesmile. 

Instead of being pleased with the honest simplicity of this answer, theold man looked disappointed; his brow clouded, and his eye fell. 

"You would gladly have married her at the time, though?"

James again shrouded his eyes. These questions were so coldly put--sorudely forced upon him, that he could only answer by an inward shudderof repulsion. 

"You are not a man to change in anything, " continued the General. "Youloved the woman once--I knew it at the time. "

"Knew it, and yet married her!" cried James, with bitterness. 

"You seemed to be playing a dog in the manger part--this might do foryoung fellows who were too timid for speech, or too certain for doubt. The lady was young, beautiful, rich, and appeared to give me thepreference. You did not speak. I did; that is all. "

"I was not selfishly silent, sir. Before my mother's unhappy death, Iwas dependent entirely on her bounty, and that you controlled. Mabel wasan heiress. I was not mercenary, and hesitated to appear so. My motherloved her. She was very young, and your ward. It would have seemed liketaking an unfair advantage of her inexperience, had I used my mother'shospitality as a means of reaching her favor. After that came a morepainful reason for silence. "

"And what was that, sir?" demanded the General, sharply. 

"I learned that her fortune had disappeared; that, large as it was, herguardian, unable to control more than the income of his wife's property, had staked this poor orphan's wealth at the gaming-table, and lost it. "

General Harrington half rose from his chair, and sat down again, lookingat James in pale astonishment. 

"To have declared my love under circumstances so disgraceful to myfamily, would have been to expose you, sir, both to my gentle mother andto the world. The will which gave Mabel her wealth, provided that a fullsettlement should be made on the day of her marriage. I had not thecourage to hurry on an event that would brand my mother's husband withdishonor. "

Still the General sat mute and pale, looking steadfastly on the floor;he seemed for a time unconscious that James had ceased to speak, but atlast raising his head slowly, he cast a look that was almost fiendish onthe younger Harrington. 

"Go on, go on!" he said, hoarsely. 

"I will, sir! Heaven knows it was my wish to bury this secret forever, but you force me to speak. My poor mother's sickness added new pain tomy unhappy situation; she died"----

"And left me a beggar--you a rich man!" said the General, hoarsely. "Ihave not forgotten it!"

"Then, " continued James, "I was free to marry the lady on equalterms--free to replace her fortune from my own inheritance, and keepyour secret still from her knowledge--but it was no time for selfishaffection, just as my angel mother was laid in a foreign grave. Itrequired time before I could control so large a portion of the propertythat had been hers. I left you in Spain, sad, but hopeful, a few monthswould have brought me back prepared to save your honor and my ownhappiness. You know the rest!"

CHAPTER LXIII. 

JAMES HARRINGTON'S GREAT STRUGGLE. 

General Harrington arose, slowly, for his limbs trembled with intenserage, and it was with difficulty that he stood up. 

"We know each other!" he said, shaking his finger at the youngerHarrington, and drawing closer and closer, till it almost touched hisface. "You have been the traitor in my household--plundered my closestsecrets--alienated my wife; talk of dishonor, sir, what was minecompared to yours?"

But James Harrington had regained all his strength, and stood up firmlybefore the infuriated old man. 

"I have said before, that from the hour this lady became your wife, theplace of my sainted mother enshrined her. As I would have studied thatmother's happiness, I gave myself and all that I possessed to herwelfare and yours. My own tastes were simple, and I had no hopes. Thelarger portion of my income, you have always controlled. "

"And always will command, or this woman's name shall become a by-wordfrom Maine to Georgia!" exclaimed the General, resuming some controlover his rage. "We comprehend each other now, and can talk plainly. Youhave learned some of my secrets, and shall know more. I have other debtsof honor, and no ward's fortune to pay them with: her reputation ormine is at stake--one must save the other. "

"I do not understand you, sir. "

"You can very well comprehend that the contents of this precious book, will render anything like affection for Mrs. Harrington impossible tome. Indeed, the unhappy position in which your mother's death left me, not only penniless, but frightfully involved, enforced this secondmarriage. I can afford to forgive an outrage on affections that neverexisted. So while the lady's faithlessness does not affect my interestsor my honor, I can endure it with self-complacency. "

"I am shocked--astonished, sir, to hear you speak in this way!" saidJames, indignantly. 

The old man smiled. 

"You are a dreamer, sir, which I am not. Scenes and excitements are myabhorrence; we hold unpleasant relations toward each other. You are mystep-son. The only child of my very distant cousin, a Harrington likemyself, to whom, but for your birth, I was the direct heir. Theproperty, a vast one, which might have been justly divided, fell to hiswidow, your mother, by will. I married the lady, thus, as any sensibleman would have supposed, ensuring the inheritance which should have beenmine, and which undoubtedly would have been mine, but the lady took itinto her head to get jealous one fine day"----

"Stop, sir!" said James Harrington. "I guessed too well the cause of herdeath--the bitter sorrow which haunted my mother to her grave. She dieda broken-hearted woman; do not take her name irreverently into yourlips, or I shall forget myself. "

"You _are_ forgetting yourself, sir!" answered the General, waving hishand with gentle deprecation. "This is neither time nor place forheroics. I did but attempt to impress you with the fact, that yourmother's unjust will had caused all this domestic turmoil. You took theproperty from me--I won the lady from you. Let us look upon the thinglike sensible men, and make restitution. "

"Restitution, sir! Restitution of a wasted life!"

"Do be composed--I am tired of storms. You love the lady--I do not. Iwant money--you care nothing for it. "

"Well, sir, well?"

"Really, it is difficult coming to the point, while you look so excited;but, if you will listen tranquilly, all this may be settled. "

James sat down, with one hand pressed to his forehead. 

"Go on, sir. I am listening. "

"It is but just, as I said before, that you disburse the bulk of aproperty which originally came from the Harrington family. Give me adeed, conveying two-thirds of that property to my unrestricted controlduring life--I have no ambition to make wills--and the secrets of thisbook are safe. The west is broad, and most conveniently accommodatingwhen marriage ties become irksome. Mabel can take that direction for hersummer travels, while I remain here. In three months the fashionableworld may thank us for a week's gossip, which I can very well endure. The world is large--there is California, Australia, or Europe--hersecond marriage in any of these countries would never be heard of. "

James Harrington started up, shaking from head to foot; and so white, that the General half-rose, tempted to flee his presence. 

"Tempter, hoary-headed fiend, how dare you!" broke from his white lips. 

The old man faltered a little as he went on, and an anxious restlessnessof the eye betrayed more emotion than he cared to make apparent. 

"I neither tempt nor persuade. We have done each other great injury;this lady has been the cause, and in some sort the victim. Afterreading that book, it is impossible for this household to contain usall. I will not submit to be turned out a beggar, nor to live an hourlonger on your munificence. The plan I offer is the only one that can bepeaceably acted upon. "

"And the lady, Mrs. Harrington, does she know this?"

"Not a syllable. I have no fancy for hysterics, protestations, orfainting fits. The _rôle_ of an injured husband, is not to my taste; andI should prefer that she base her complaints on my indifference, abandonment, infidelity, or whatever faults of that nature she pleases. I will take a trip to Paris, if that promises to facilitate matters. "

"And, if I refuse?"

"Then the lady shall be quietly waited upon by my lawyer, and invited toleave my house. This book will not only be placed in evidence againsther, but every line it contains shall be duplicated by thousands, andspread far and wide. "

"Give me time--give me air. I cannot think or breathe!" answered James, struggling with himself amid a whirl of contending feelings, like adrowning man engulphed by a flood. "A few minutes, and I will speakagain. "

He arose, and walked unsteadily towards the library window, threw itopen, and stepped out upon the balcony. There he strove to look thedifficulty before him in the face--to meet the terrible temptation withcourage. He dared not turn his thoughts, even for a moment, toward thepossibility of the proposed divorce, but crushed it back resolutely, asif it had been a serpent attempting to charm his soul away. If a glow ofdelight had touched his heart with the first certainty of Mabel's love, it was gone now, quenched by a consciousness of the terrible dangersthat were closing around her. 

It was a bitter cold morning; all around him the earth lay sheeted withdeep snow. The river was frozen over from shore to shore. Not a greenthing was near, save the spruces and pines upon the shrouded lawn, andthey drooped and moaned under a burden of cold whiteness, which the windmight disturb but fail to sweep away. The balcony was littered withslender icicles which had fallen from the gables above, and flashed outlike shattered jewels from his impetuous footsteps as he trod them down, walking to and fro in the wild excitement that seized upon him. Atanother time he must have shuddered beneath the sharp wind that filledhis hair and clothes with frost. But now, the fever in his blood burnedtoo hotly not to feel the biting cold as a relief. 

He leaned against a pillar of the balcony, shocked to the soul, and yetso indignant that the frozen particles that filled the air, flashedathwart his eyes like sparks of fire. The hand with which he strove toforce back the painful rush of thought from his forehead, fell upon itlike ice, but in a moment that too was burning. He tore off his cravat, and in vain exposed his bosom to the frost. He gathered handfuls of snowfrom where it had lodged in ridges on the stone balustrade, and pressedthem to his forehead, hoping thus to slake the fever of his wildthoughts. A little time, and this fierce struggle must have killed him;for, not to have found some means of saving Mabel Harrington from thedangers that encompassed her, would have been a thousand deaths to him. Oh! how his bad angel toiled and struggled to fix that divorce upon hismind, as the best and only means of saving her. But the heart thatswelled so tumultuously in his bosom, was honest and unselfish. He tookhold of the temptation, firmly wrestled with, and hurled it aside, facing the right with heroic courage. 

At last, his restless footsteps ceased; some new idea contracted hisfeatures, sweeping all the fire away. Slowly and steadily, like thebeams of a star, thought followed thought, till his face grew luminouswith generous resolution. The red fever had burned itself out on hisforehead, leaving it pale and calm, while across his lips stole anexpression so much more beautiful than a smile, that I cannot impress itupon the reader. 

CHAPTER LXIV. 

THE LIFE DEED. 

James Harrington turned from the balcony, and entered the open window, composed and firm, but paler than before he went out. 

General Harrington looked sharply up as James came forward, but did notspeak; there was a force and dignity in his aspect that filled even thatworldly old man with respect, amounting almost to awe. They sat downface to face; James leaning heavily against the table, GeneralHarrington retreating far back in his chair, to avoid the firm glance ofthose eyes. 

"There is another way of settling this matter, " he said, plunging atonce into the depths of the subject. "I have wealth which you desire. Toobtain it you will sell your revenge on a helpless woman whose hand youhave obtained, but whose love you have never sought. Your offer isspecious, but to accept it would be wickedness in me, degradation toher. I know well that she would die rather than escape your vengeance onsuch terms. I reject them utterly!"

"It is well, " said the old man, pale and trembling in his turn, "I haveat least this left;" and gathering up Mabel's book, he seemed preparingto go out. 

"But, " said James Harrington, still with great self-possession, "I amready to purchase the tranquillity of your wife on other terms. Give methat book--pledge your solemn word of honor that its contents shallnever be mentioned again to mortal being--leave Mabel Harrington in theentire enjoyment of her home and station, exactly as she has receivedthem during her married life, and I will at once give you entire controlof my income during your natural life, only reserving for myself enoughfor a bare subsistence. I will leave this house to-morrow. Henceforth, Iwill hold no communication with you or your family. As you said, theworld is broad--any place will answer for one who has no hopes. "

The old man was so taken by surprise that he could not answer, but satsearching the face before him with eager scrutiny. 

"And you will do this?"

"I will. "

"Without entering into explanation with her, or any one else?"

"Explanations are impossible. The family will understand that I amsuddenly called away; after that, any prolonged absence can be accountedfor. But remember, sir, this lady's tranquillity must be assured beyonda chance of revocation; on that rests the validity of any deed I shalldraw. The day and hour in which her position is in the slightest degreeimpaired, no matter from what cause, and I return, though it were fromthe uttermost ends of the earth, to resume my own and protect her. "

"Have no fear, " answered the general, with an impatient wave of thehand. "The shelter of my roof, and the protection of my name, willensure all; these I promise never to withdraw. "

"And that book?"

"Shall be kept secret as the grave!"

"It must be burned before I leave the room!"

The old man was about to hesitate, and demand the life-deed before hesurrendered Mabel's journal; but there was a stern dignity in hisstep-son that checked the mean impulse. He knew well that no bond wouldbe held more sacred than that man's word. James read the thought with asmile of contempt, and turned to leave the room. 

"In half an hour I will return with the deed; keep the book till then!"

"No, no, it is here!" cried the General, flushing with shame. 

But Harrington had gone, leaving him in a state of humiliation which noself-complacency could soften or conceal. After he had been left alittle time, the old man went out upon the balcony, for a brilliant firemade the heat oppressive, cold as the day was; and there was a sensationof shame at his heart, that made his breath come heavily. 

He was gone scarcely more than a minute, but that was long enough forthe mulatto chambermaid to steal out from the bed-chamber, tear half adozen pages from Mabel's journal, and creep back again, grasping thecrushed paper in her hand as she glided through the door which openedbehind the curtains of General Harrington's bed. The drapery was yetrustling from her sudden retreat, when the old gentleman returned to thelibrary. He found the book as he had left it, and sat down withsomething of triumph but more of self-contempt, to await the return ofhis step-son. 

Directly, James came back with the deed in his hand. The General tookit, read it carefully section by section, folded it with studieddeliberation; and taking up the journal, placed it in Harrington's handwith a forced smile and a scarcely perceptible bow. 

As the book touched his hands, James Harrington grasped it withviolence; a trembling fit seized upon him, and he shook like an aspentree while carrying it to the fire. Opening the covers wide, he laid thefluttering pages down upon the flames, which darted through them like anest of fiery vipers, and in an instant devoured poor Mabel Harrington'ssecret, over which the vellum covers writhed and curled like livingthings given up to torture. 

Till the last fragment was consumed, James Harrington stood looking on, with the light falling upon his pale face, which revealed a depth ofmournful tenderness that touched even that selfish old man withreverence. It seemed as if Mabel's heart had been given to the flames byhis own hands. When all was consumed he turned away like one in apainful dream, and without speaking a word, left the room. 

Two hours after, he quitted the house. 

CHAPTER LXV. 

WHO WAS LINA FRENCH?

James Harrington and Lina left the same roof within a few hours of eachother, without warning or explanation. Was it strange that Mabel shouldbe tortured with wild doubts, or that her son should believe thestep-brother whom he had looked up to with such honest devotion, and thegirl he had loved so truly, domestic conspirators who had been deceivinghim all the time?

Poor Ralph! these doubts fell with cruel force on his generous nature. His confidence was all swept away--the best jewel of his life had fallenoff. To him, love had no longer the holiness of truth. Householdtrust--faith in human goodness--all was disturbed. He was wild withindignation, torn with a thousand conflicting feelings; sometimesheart-broken with grief--again, reckless and defiant; then a spirit ofbitter retaliation seized upon him. What was Lina, with her gentleaffections and pretty reserves, that he should waste a life in regretsfor her, while another, ardent, impassioned, and loving him madly, waspining to death for the affection he had thrown away so lavishly fornothing? What, after all, was there to charm more in one woman thananother? Lina was false; why should he remain faithful?

These were wild, rash thoughts; but Ralph was young, tortured in hisfirst love, and tempted by an artful, impassioned woman, whose perversewill carried the strength of fate with it. 

Still, it was only at times that his heart rose hotly against its oldnature. There was more of scorn and rage, mingled with the certaintythat Agnes Barker loved him, than of real passion, but it assuaged thehumiliation of Lina's falsehood, and the consciousness of her attachmentdiverted the grief that would otherwise have consumed him. Thoughmaddened by all these conflicting passions, the young man had soughtdesperately after the lost girl from the moment her absence wasdiscovered on the morning after the storm, but she seemed to havedisappeared like a shadow from the earth; for from the hour when sheleft Ben Benson's boat-house, not a trace of her movements could befound. 

For the third time, Ralph went down to the boat-house to question theold sailor, whom he found housed up, as he called it, in a fit of sullengrief, which it required some tact to break in upon. 

Ben was sitting in his domicile before a rousing fire, which he now andthen stooped to feed with hickory logs, till the whole room was filledwith a warm glow of light. So many additions and ornaments had beenadded to the boat-house, that it took the appearance of a ship's cabinmore than anything else. The fire revealed a trap-door in the centre ofthe room, which answered for a gangway, while coils of rope, carpenters'tools, cans of pitch, and bits of iron, all in their place andship-shape, as Ben would have said, gave both a busy and maritime lookto the premises. 

Everything was very comfortable in the boat-house, but Ben kept pilingon wood and raking out the coals with an iron bar, as if the heat andlight were still insufficient, when in fact he thought nothing ofeither, but was making desperate efforts to work off the anxieties thathad beset him like so many hounds, ever since his interview with Lina. 

"What can a feller do now?" he said, looking wistfully up to the modelsof gun-boats, brigs, and clippers, that occupied the rude shelves andbrackets on the wall, as if taking counsel from them. "I have sarchedthe woods from hill to hill, and nary a sign of her. She 'caint a goneand fell through the ice, for it's friz two feet thick; and, as forrunning away, or going for to kill herself, it wasn't in the gal to dono sich thing. Ben Benson, you was a brute, beast, and two or threesarpents to boot, not to tell the gal all she wanted to know. Youobstinate old wretch, you've gone and done it now, and no mistake. It'sas much as I can do to keep from knocking you on the head with amarlin-spike, you sneakin' old sea-dog! What if she was dead now, frizstiff agin a tree, or a lyin' in the bottom of the river, what would youthink of yourself, I'd like to know?"

Thus half in muttered breath, half in thought, Ben gave forth the burdenof his anxieties, till at last self-reproachful beyond endurance, heseized a fragment of pine wood, and opening his jack-knife withsuperfluous energy, began to whittle, as if his life depended onsharpening the stick to a point. 

He was interrupted by the crunching sound of snow beneath footsteps thatcame in haste toward the boat-house. Ben cut a deep gash into the wood, and sat motionless, with his hand on the knife, listening. 

"It's too heavy--she never trod down the snow-crust like that, poorbird!" and, resuming his work, Ben kicked the shavings he had made intothe fire, and flung the mutilated pine after them. 

"Is't you, mister Ralph?" said Ben, rising as the door opened, andseating himself moodily on a bench, that his guest might come to thefire. "You look flustered, and out of sorts, but this isn't no place toget ship-shape in. It's awful lonesome here, sin' that night. "

"Then, you have heard nothing!"

"No, not a whisper. That fool, Ben Benson, has been sarching andsarching, like an old desarter as he is, but it ain't no sort o' good;the gal may be dead for what he cares--a toasting hisself before a fire, while she--may be Mr. James has hearn something. "

"Mr. James Harrington has gone also, " answered Ralph, bitterly. "It's nouse searching further. They have fled together. James Harrington, theman whom I have looked up to all my life, the saint, the angel; he hasdisappeared as she did. They cheated me from the beginning. He has takenadvantage of his wealth, and she--what chance had a poor fellow like meagainst his millions? It was hardly worth while to deceive me soshamefully though; but craft is natural to the sex, I believe. " Therewas a struggle between grief and rage in the young man's voice, andwhile his eye blazed his lips began to quiver. 

Ben slowly stooped forward, and resting an elbow on each knee, touchedhis fore-fingers thoughtfully together, while his eyes, clear and honestas those of a Newfoundland dog, were bent on the young man's face. Atlast he burst forth. 

"Ralph Harrington, I should say, that next to that mule-headed feller, Ben Benson, as isn't worth the husks he sleeps on--you was theconsarnedest fool that ever sot hisself up with an opinion. You talkagin wimmen afore the moustachoes are black on your upper lip, becausethere's something about one on 'em, as you can't make out. Then, there'sMister James, a man as that ere shark Ben Benson ain't afeared to swearby through thick and thin, the most gentlemanliest Harrington as everdrawd breath, you set up to speak again him, it's enough to agrivate aBritish admiral. "

Ralph had scarcely heeded this speech, but stood with one elbow restingupon the rude shelf, that served as a mantelpiece, sullen andthoughtful. 

"I was in hopes you would tell me something. Oh! Ben, it seemsimpossible to believe that fair, young creature so false, " he said, atlength giving way to the feelings that oppressed him, "what faith canone have in human nature after this?"

"Mister Ralph Harrington, you ain't no sailor, to talk in that ere way. There's many a stout ship as goes down in a storm, with its timberssound and its masts standing. Then, agin, there's others as givethemselves up to the storm, and lead off hither and yon, but get back totheir reckoning, and do good sarvice arter all. Wimmen are likeships--some get unrigged--some founder--some go agin wind and weather, right in the teeth of the world, and some drift like poor little boats, without compass or rudder, but yet, the generality cast anchor in deep, clear water at last, and for one wreck, thousands and thousands come inwith all sails set--only Mister Ralph, remember this. The craft thatales goes steadily and safe, cuts a still wake; but your leaky vesselsmakes any amount of whirlpools as they go down. It's only boys, "continued Ben, taking the tobacco from his mouth, and casting itindignantly into the fire--"It's only boys as knows nothing, and men asknows too much, that ever speak in this ere wholesale way about wimmen. Ralph, you're young, that's all. "

"I am distracted, Ben; Heaven knows how gladly I would believe herblameless, but her manner changed toward me so strangely, she wasevidently premeditating this abandonment; but that she should gooff--and with him, of all men upon earth. Oh! Ben, what man, not a fool, could persist in his faith, after that. "

"I tell you, it wasn't that as driv the gal away. She wanted to knowsomething as I wouldn't tell her. Something more'en Ben Benson reckonedon, was in her mind; she got discouraged because he wouldn't tell her. "

"If I'd told her, she'd a been here now. " Here Ben covered his face withboth hands and cried out, "God forgive me! God forgive me!"

CHAPTER LXVI. 

THREATS AND PERSUASIONS. 

Directly after James Harrington left the General's room, thewaiting-woman Zillah entered cautiously, and with breathless eagerness. She stood some moments partly behind the General's chair, before heregarded her. When he did look up, a faint color swept over his face, and he made a gesture of annoyance. 

"You are not pleased to find me here so soon, " she said quickly, forimpatience had for the moment disturbed the wonderful self-control withwhich her interviews with General Harrington were invariably conducted. "Is it a sign this woman, who has outraged the name of wife, is totriumph over me always?"

"Zillah!" answered the General, angrily, "my relations with my wife arebeyond your interference. "

"Your wife!" exclaimed the woman with a fiendish sneer. "You can stillcall her that!"

"Zillah, be careful. I have permitted you to go in and out of my housein this surreptitious fashion unmolested, from regard to oldattachments; but you shall not again interfere in my familyarrangements. The charges that you have, I see now, been the means ofmaking against Mrs. Harrington, are groundless. I will not have a wordspoken--mark me--against that excellent lady. "

"What!" said the woman hoarsely; "what does this mean?"

"It means, Zillah, that I am perfectly convinced not only of Mrs. Harrington's rectitude, but of her entire attachment to myself. As forMr. James Harrington, his conduct has been unexceptionable--nay, magnanimous. We are a happy and united family, Zillah. "

"A happy and united family!" almost shrieked the woman. "And has it allcome to this--am I again spurned, again hurled back to the earth--Hagarthrust forth to wander forever and ever with her child in the broaddesert--the world. I tell you, General Harrington, this shall not be!"

"Shall not--slave, how dare you?" cried the old man, rising haughtily. 

"Slave, slave! Yes, I am your slave, for I love you, my master, love youwith a madness this cold white lady never dreamed of. Do not crush mebeneath this woman's feet--do not. For years and years I have lived onthis one wish, to be your slave again. She, your wife, is faithless, false, cold as marble; put her away--send her forth, as I have been. Thesame God made us both, and should punish us both alike. I have beentortured long enough; take me home, master, take me home--a servant, aslave, anything; but send this woman from beneath your roof. She hashad her life, I have a right to mine! Give it to me--give it to me formy love's sake, for our child's sake!"

The woman fell upon her knees as she spoke; her locked hands wereuplifted, and wrung madly together--her eyes were full of wild, passionate tears. She looked, indeed, a Hagar coming back from thedesert, where she had left her youth buried. 

"Master, master, send her away, send her away!" she pleaded, in a burstof pathetic entreaty. "What has she been to you, that I was not? She isthe mother of your child--so am I. She was your wife--I was your slave. She claimed rights, station, wealth, power, and returned nothing. I gavemy soul, my being, every breath of my life, every pulse in my heart, andclaimed only bonds. You fettered her with flowers--me with iron. I lovedthese chains, for they bound me to you--they have drawn me to your feetagain. I will not give way to that woman a second time!"

The old man had been growing calm amid this passionate appeal. Strongfeeling always annoyed him, and the woman seemed actuated by a speciesof madness, that filled him with repulsion. He turned from her with alook of quiet contempt. 

"Why, Zillah, you should go on the stage. These wild paroxysms, half-pathetic, half-demoniac, tell splendidly with the public: a littledash of blasphemy now, and you are perfect. The best society would runwild about you--ladies, most of all, especially if they knew exactly whoand what you were, Zillah. "

The woman sprang to her feet, white as death; her eyes closing, her lipsspecked with foam. She attempted to speak, but the words writhedthemselves to death on her lips without a sound. 

How still intense rage can sometimes appear! The woman stood mute formore than a moment, in which General Harrington held his breath, awed, in spite of himself, by a force of passion he had never witnessedbefore. 

"Zillah, " he said at last, half-terrified, "Zillah, control yourself;this rage will injure you. Come, come, let us talk together morereasonably. You know how I dislike these wild flights of temper, and howlittle good they can effect. Take that hand from your bosom, girl; ifyou have a poniard there, let it stay sheathed. I do not fear you, atany rate. "

"You need not, " said the woman, in a hoarse whisper. "I could notstrike, even while you were mocking me. "

Her hand fell slowly downward as she spoke, leaving the hilt of a daggerjust visible under her dress. 

The General stepped toward her, took the dagger from her bosom, and castit contemptuously on the fire. 

"Have done with this acting, girl, and talk like a sensible woman, ifyou have really anything to say. "

Zillah smiled scornfully, as he had done, while her eyes followed thedagger to its lodgment in the fire. 

"It is the purpose, not the instrument, which is dangerous, " she said, with pale self-possession, still speaking in hoarse undertones; "and, inorder to reach that, you must clutch here. "

Zillah pressed one hand hard on her heart as she spoke, and the old mancould see that concentrated passion shook her from head to foot, stillas she seemed. 

"Zillah, this passion will prevent me ever seeing you again. I am noboy, to be terrified into concessions; as for violence, attempt it, andI will have you dealt with like any other house-breaker. In the North wehave heavier chains than you have ever worn. You will find that theslavery which springs from crime, is a reality that you have not yetknown. No more threats, then, if you ever hope to see your masteragain. "

"I was wrong, " said the woman, standing before him with the downcastlook learned in her early bondage. "It was wounded love, not anger, against you, my master, that tortured me into this rash language. I cameto tell you of L----of our child; she is very, very ill. "

"What, Lina? poor child, no wonder she is heart-broken. Heaven knows Iwould have kept this miserable secret from her, but for Ralph! Where isshe now?"

"In my own house, raving with brain fever!"

"And have you told her all?"

"Yes, and she, too, spurned me--every one repulses and scorns me, whilethat woman"----

"Hush! Zillah, you are getting fierce again, and that I will not submitto. "

"No, no, master, it was grief for my child, not anger, " said the woman, checking herself. "She is ill, very ill. The doctor thinks she mustdie. "

"Indeed, I am grieved to hear it. Let her have every care; have a dozenphysicians, if it is needful. Poor child--poor child!"

"You love her, then, this daughter of a slave?" said Zillah, with afierce gleam in her eyes, as if jealous of his very love for her ownchild. 

"Love her? Why she has always been a pet in the house--a beautiful, sweet-tempered creature, whom everyone loved. I think she is even dearerto me than Ralph himself. "

Again the woman turned white. 

"And you love her so much?"

"Again, Zillah: you are hard to please; but take good care of thechild--in a day or two I will come to see her!"

"Indeed, to see her--her only. "

"Have done with this paltry childishness, I am tired of it!" answeredthe General, with authority. "This comes of allowing you a footholdhere. Remember I cannot have my privacy intruded on in future by thesemysterious visits; they will become known to the family, and Mrs. Harrington may think them a just cause of complaint--a thing above allothers to be avoided. I tell you, Zillah, this rash passion, which atyour age should be controlled, inconveniences me very much; indeed, as aman of honor, I cannot encourage it farther. "

Zillah's lips writhed, as if she were repeating over his last words inthe scorn of her heart; but she stood immovable and silent, with hereyes bent on the floor. 

"If money is needed for you or Lina, whose future I will liberallyprovide for, that can at any time be supplied to the extent of yourwishes. "

"I shall not need your money, " answered the woman coldly. 

"But you cannot be rich!"

"The master to whom you sold me left his property to be divided betweensome half dozen slaves, who received their freedom and the legacytogether. I am spending mine; when it is gone, I can work. "

"Then you reject all help from me?"

"I was your slave, General Harrington--twice bound, first by your laws, again by the will of my own heart, but I am no beggar; even when youloved me, I worked for my own bread. "

"I am glad that you are so well provided for: now let this romance cometo an end. We are no boy and girl, remember, Zillah; and, though it isvery pleasant to feel that one heart at least proves faithful to theend, I cannot, in justice to Mrs. Harrington, admit you under the sameroof with herself. Her peace of mind is important to me, very important, and her tranquillity must not be endangered by these wild visits. I willwithdraw, now, and give you an opportunity to leave the house; becareful that no one sees you, especially Mrs. Harrington. Adieu! In twoor three days, at most, I shall be able to see you and Lina. "

The old gentleman waved his hand, in token of a friendly adieu, as hewent, leaving his singular visitor standing in the middle of the room, so numbed in feeling or lost in thought, that she seemed unconscious ofhis departure. 

It was more than a minute before the woman lifted her head; then herface was pale, and a deep smouldering purpose burned like fire in thedepths of her eyes. She looked around wildly, as if searching for theman who had just left the room; then her recollection seemed to comeback, and she went up to the table, examining everything upon it witheager haste. The journal was no longer there, but in its place she founda folded paper placed in a small portfolio, which bore the General'sinitials. 

The paper shook in her hands as she unfolded it, for all her formeragitation had come back; and, in her haste to read, the fire seemed toleap from her black eyes over the writing. It was the life-deed whichhad just passed between General Harrington and his son-in-law. 

The woman laughed as she folded up the paper--a laugh of such bittermockery that it started even herself, as if some other person had beenreviling her. 

"And has it ended in this, after years of plotting and privations thatwould have killed a common person? Have I ended in binding them morefirmly together. This accounts for his solicitude for her welfare. Thisis why these visits of mine trouble him. They might break the compactwhich secures repose and reputation to Mabel Harrington, for so muchmoney--and she is to triumph a second time! I am nothing--a weed, a bitof miserable night-shade that has poison in it, and nothing more. "

As she muttered over these thoughts, more and more slowly, the womanfolded her arms, and stood immovable for several minutes; her brow grewdark as midnight, and a strange, settled expression came up to herface, as if the poison she had just spoken of were diffusing itselfthrough her entire system. At last she heard steps approaching thelibrary, and hurried away through the disused entrance. 

CHAPTER LXVII. 

THE EVENING RIDE. 

As Ralph Harrington was returning from Benson's cabin one night, he metAgnes Barker. It was yet early in the evening, but the sharp, frosty airrendered it singular that a young girl should have ventured into thecold, without some important object to urge her forth. Ralph had beentouched, and a good deal subdued, by his conversation with Ben; and hewould gladly have avoided this rencontre with the governess, whoinvariably left him excited and wretched with fresh doubts whenever heconversed with her. But Agnes came directly towards him, and he remarkedthat her manner of walking was excited, and like that of a person whohad some important object to pursue. 

"Mr. Ralph Harrington, you have been unjust to me. When I told you thatLina French was still in the neighborhood quietly domesticated, whereyour saintly step-brother could visit her at will, you disbelieved me, and cast discredit on my word. Since then, James Harrington hasdisappeared mysteriously as she did. I now say that he, also, is in thecity, making preparations to take the girl South; in a few days she willleave it with him. "

"Why should he take this course, Miss Barker, if it is true? My brotherwas wealthy, free, and has been for years his own master. If he lovedLina, there was no need of concealment--nothing but my own mad passionstood in the way, and Heaven knows that I was ready to take the heartfrom my bosom, could that have made him or her happier. There is amystery in all this that I cannot fathom. My brother, so noble, so morethan generous, could not have lived the life he has, to prove thistraitor to himself and us at last. "

"Then you still have faith in this girl?"

"I will not believe so ill of her as you seem to desire, until somefarther explanation is had. She may love my brother, and he, I cannotwell understand how any man could help loving her, for she was thepurest, the most lovely character I ever knew. "

"She _was_ that character, it is well you say was, " answered Agnes, witha dash of scorn in her voice; "for I am about to offer you proof of whatshe is. "

Ralph turned white, and recoiled a step back. "Proof--proof, have youheard something, then?"

"Yes, I have heard from Miss Lina--she has sent for me. A privatemessage, of which no one is to be informed. "

"And, when are you going?--where is she now?" inquired Ralph, inbreathless astonishment. 

"Now, " answered Agnes. "She has sent a conveyance from the city, whichwaits at a curve of the road. I may not return to-night--may neverreturn. My occupation here is gone, and no one will regret me. I cameunloved, and I go away the stranger I was then!"

It was dark, and Ralph could not see her face distinctly, but the soundof tears was in her voice. 

"Not so--not so!" said he, impetuously. "You will be regretted--we, atleast, are not strangers; I will go with you. If this girl is in thecity, I will convince myself of the fact; then, if your suspicions werecorrect, she shall never occupy a thought of mine while I haveexistence. "

"Go with me if you wish, " said Agnes, mournfully; "it will be a fewmoments taken from the desolation of life that must follow; after that Ishall be alone. "

Ralph scarcely heeded her; a wild desire to see Lina, and convincehimself of her falsehood, drove all other thoughts from his mind; butthe words and voice which bespoke so much tender sorrow, were rememberedafterward. 

"Come, let us begone at once, " he said, folding his paletot closely, anddrawing her arm through his. "I thank Heaven this suspense will be endedto-morrow. I shall be a man again. "

Agnes leaned heavily on his arm; the deep snow made walking difficult, and this was her excuse. Ralph only noticed it to lend her assistance;his thoughts ran wildly toward Lina French, the gentle, kind-heartedgirl who had been so long a portion of his own life, and whoseunworthiness he could not yet wholly realize. 

A two-horse sleigh, crowded with buffalo robes, evidently the equipageof some wealthy establishment, stood on the highway where it swept downto General Harrington's mansion. Ralph helped his companion in, and theydashed off noiselessly as lightning, and almost as swift. 

No word was spoken between the two during the ride. Agnes shivered nowand then, as if with cold, and this aroused Ralph for an instant fromthe painful reverie into which he had fallen; but he only drew the furrobes more closely about her, and sunk into perfect unconsciousness ofher presence once more. Thus, in profound silence they reached the city, and dashing onward, they drew up before the house to which Lina had beenconveyed only a few weeks before. 

"This is the house, " said Agnes, pushing the fur robes from around her;and, without waiting for help, she sprang out, and mounted the stepsjust as the door was opened by some one from within. A single wordpassed between her and the servant, just as Ralph reached her side; buthe only heard her inquiring in the ordinary way for the young lady whohad just taken up her residence there. 

The door was flung wide open, as if she had been expected, and theservant led the way into what, in the dim light, seemed a smalldrawing-room. The bland, warm atmosphere that filled this room wouldhave been most welcome, under other circumstances, after the severe coldof the night; but now Ralph was hardly conscious either of the warmth, or an atmosphere of blooming plants which floated luxuriously aroundhim. Rich jets of gas burned like fairy beads in the lower end of theroom, dimly revealing the small conservatory from which this fragrancecame, and affording a glimpse here and there of rich silk hangings andpictures upon the wall, whose gorgeousness forced itself upon theobservation even in that dim twilight. 

Ralph looked around with surprise; the place was so unlike anything hehad expected to find, that for the moment he lost sight of the object ofhis coming. All at once he became conscious of a third presence--a softflutter of garments, and the movement of some person advancing towardsthat portion of the room in which those tiny stars seemed burning. Directly a glow of light burst over the whole apartment. The stars hadbroken into brilliant jets of flame, and a tent of blossoms rose beforehim, like some fairy nook flooded with radiance. 

Half-way between this background of plants and the place he occupied, stood a female, so gorgeously attired and so singular in her wholeappearance, that the young man uttered an exclamation of surprise, whichwas answered by an angry start and an abrupt movement of the woman, whowas evidently both astonished and displeased by his presence there. 

"What is this?" she said, haughtily; "I gave no orders for the admissionof strangers here. "

Before Ralph could speak, Agnes Barker came forward, and stood for amoment looking steadily in the woman's face, thus concentrating herentire attention on herself. 

"Madam, if you are the mistress of this house, " she said, with greatself-possession, "you will not consider this an intrusion, for it musthave been with your knowledge that I was sent for to attend MissFrench--the young lady who has lately taken up her residence here. "

The woman stood for a moment as if struck dumb with astonishment, then afaint smile dawned on her mouth, which was at once displaced by angryglances cast upon Ralph Harrington. 

"And this young gentleman, certainly he was not sent for?"

Again Agnes interrupted the explanation Ralph was ready to give. 

"Your message, madam, was a strange one, and reached me after dark. Surely a young girl coming so far from home, might be expected to bringan escort. "

"Besides, " said Ralph, impetuously, "if Lina--if Miss French is here, Ihave a better right to see her than any one else; and if she is in thishouse, I must and will know her reasons for coming here. "

"The young lady is in her room, and will receive no one at this time ofnight, " answered the woman, firmly; "if you wish to see her, let it beat some more proper hour. "

"But I, madam, have been summoned here by Miss French herself!" saidAgnes, with that firmness which had marked her conduct since she enteredthe house. "Permit me to desire that you lead me to her room. "

The woman looked keenly in her face a moment, as if about to contest thewish, but some new thought seemed to spring up; and answering abruptly, "Come, then, " she left the room. 

CHAPTER LXVIII. 

RALPH FINDS LINA. 

Ralph had been alone only a moment when Agnes came back, apparently inbreathless haste. 

"Be ready, " she whispered, "follow me after a moment--the room is darknext to hers; be cautious and you can both see and hear what passes. "

Before he could accept or reject her proposition, she was gone. 

"It is but right, " he reflected, controlling the first honorable impulsewhich revolted at this secret method of gaining information; "there issome mystery which can never be fathomed by straight-forward questions. I will not listen meanly; but proper or not, if Lina French is in thishouse I will speak with her!"

Obeying the impulse urged by these thoughts, he passed through the halfopen door, and following Agnes by the rustle of her dress, paused in thechamber she had designated, reluctant to enter the room beyond; for hesaw at a glance that the bed which stood at one end was occupied. Awhite hand fell over the side, working nervously among the folds of thecounterpane, as if the person who lay there was awake and ill at ease. 

Breathless with emotions which crowded fast and painfully upon him, theyoung man sunk into a chair, and covering his face with both hands, strove thus to gain some portion of self-control; but the first tone ofLina's voice set him to trembling from head to foot, and it was a momentbefore he could see objects distinctly enough to recognize her in herwhite robe and among those snowy pillows. 

"So you have come at last, " she said, rising on one elbow and holdingout her hand to Agnes, with a look of eager delight, which flushed hercheeks and kindled her blue eyes with a wild brilliancy the young manhad never seen in them before; "tell me, oh, tell me how they allare--my dear, dear mamma, is she well? does she pine about myabsence--does she talk of me?"

"Mrs. Harrington is grieved and very anxious, " said Agnes Barker, gently, "why did you leave them so abruptly, Miss French?"

"I could not help leaving them. It was time. My presence there was sureto bring trouble and--and--don't ask me about it. Let me rest. Don't youunderstand that it has nearly killed me. It was great love that drove meaway--nothing else. Still I did not mean to go just then. A few dayswould not have made so much difference, and they would have been heavento me; oh, such heaven, such heaven, you cannot guess how precious everymoment was at the last!"

"But why did you send for me?" questioned Agnes, gently. "Is it that youwish to go back?"

"Go back!" cried the poor girl, starting up with a flush of wild delightthat faded away in an instant; "oh why did you say this cruel thing? Itis too late--it is impossible; I can never go back, never, never, never!"

Lina fell back upon her pillows, and began to moan piteously, but made abrave attempt to stifle her sobs on the pillow. 

"No, no, I did not send to you with that hope, only it was so hard tosit in this room day after day and hear nothing--not even that theyhated me. I think that would have been better than this dulluncertainty. I only wanted to hear just one little word; my poor hearthas asked for it so long, and now you tell me nothing. "

"What can I tell you except that your flight has filled the wholehousehold with grief and consternation. "

"I knew it--I was sure they would feel the gloom, but that was betterthan remaining a curse and a shame to them all, you know. "

"A curse and a shame, Miss French!" said Agnes, with dignity; "these areharsh words applied to one's-self. I hope you do not deserve them. "

"Did I say shame?" cried Lina, starting up in affright; "well, well, ifI did, it cannot reach him or wound poor mamma; as for me, why, it isnot much matter, you know; the world does not care what becomes of apoor little girl like me. "

A shade of compassion stole over Agnes Barker's face. She took Lina'shand in hers, and pressed it softly to her lips. 

"You look grieved. I hope it is for me, " said the gentle girl, and hereyes filled with tears. "It won't hurt you or any one to be sorry for apoor child who is so very, very miserable. "

Ralph would endure this touching scene no longer; he started up andrushed towards the bed, with both trembling hands extended, and hischest heaving with emotion. 

"Lina, Lina!" he cried, falling on his knees by the bed. "Stop, Lina, you are killing me--oh, girl, girl, what had I done that you shouldbring this ruin on us both?"

Lina uttered a wild cry at his approach, half rose in the bed with herarms outstretched, and flung herself upon his bosom, covering his hands, his face and his hair with kisses, then as if struck to the soul with asudden memory, her arms fell away, her lips grew deadly white, and shesunk back to the pillows, shuddering from head to foot. 

"Lina, Lina, say that you love me yet--in the name of heaven tell mewhat this means--never before have you seemed to love me entirely, andnow"----

"Now, " she said, rising feebly to a sitting posture, "now sweep thosekisses away, sweep them utterly away, I charge you--there is shame andsin in every one; would that my lips had been withered before they gavesuch kisses, and to you, Ralph Harrington!"

"Lina, Lina French, is this real?" cried the young man, rising slowly tohis feet, pale as death, but checking the tears that had at first rushedtenderly to his eyes. "May the God of heaven forgive you and help me, for I had rather die than meet the pang of this moment. "

"I know, I know it is dreadful--see what it has done!"

She lifted up her pale hand that had fallen away till it looked almosttransparent, like that of a sick child, and held it trembling towardshim. Then she besought him, with mournful entreaty, to go away, for herheart had ceased to beat. She wanted time for prayer before thedeath-pang came. 

There was a depth of despondency in her voice, and an utter hopelessnessof speech that touched every kind feeling in the young man's heart. 

"No, Lina, I will not leave you in this unhappy condition, " he said;"your words have shocked me beyond everything; nothing but your ownavowal would have convinced me that one so good as you were, Lina, couldhave--have--oh! Lina, Lina, this is terrible. "

"I know it, " she answered faintly, "I know it, but we must be patient. "

"Patient!" exclaimed the young man, "but if I can be nothing else, onething is certain, I have the right of a wronged, outraged brother toprotect you, this specious hypocrite shall answer for the ruin he hasbrought upon us all!"

Lina started up wildly, "Ralph, Ralph, of whom are you speaking?"

"Of the man who has wronged you, Lina--who has disgraced the name ofHarrington, and who, so help me God! shall yet render you such justiceas the case permits. "

Lina gasped for breath, "you know it then--who told you, not my--nothim?"

"No one told me, Lina: he is not so base as to boast of the ruin he hasmade; heaven forbid that one who has a drop of my blood in his veinsshould sink low enough for that; but the facts, your presence here, thiscruel desertion of your friends, the insane tenacity with which youcling to this miserable fate--is it not enough?"

"Then he knows nothing--oh! thank God for that, " gasped Lina, with afaint hysterical laugh. 

"I know enough to justify me in demanding an explanation, and avengingyou after it is made, " said Ralph, sternly. 

"No, not that, I charge you, Ralph Harrington, not to ask thisexplanation of any one. It will only deepen and widen the ruin that hasso far fallen on me alone--promise me, Ralph, promise me, if you wouldnot have me die before your eyes!"

CHAPTER LXIX. 

AGNES BECOMES PATHETIC. 

Ralph took Lina's hand and spoke to her in a sad broken voice, "On onecondition, Lina; go home with me now--my mother will receive youjoyfully. This miserable absence has not been made public. Take back theprotection you have abandoned. I will not ask your confidence, only behonest and truthful with my mother. She loves you. She is forgiving asthe angels. Her beautiful virtues will redeem you, Lina. She is toomagnanimous for severity, too pure for cowardly hesitation"----

Lina began to weep on her pillow, till the pale hands with which shecovered her face, were wet with tears. 

"Oh! she is good--she is an angel of love and mercy; but this is why itis impossible for me to go back--don't ask me, oh! Ralph, Ralph, you arekilling me with this kindness. Go away, go away! perhaps God will let medie, and then all will be right. "

"Lina, this is infatuation; you _shall_ return home with me; have nofear of my presence; in a week after you accept the shelter of myfather's roof, again I go away. "

For an instant Lina brightened up, then a still more mournful expressioncame to her eyes, quenching the gleam of yearning hope, and she shookher head with a gesture of total despondency. "Don't, don't, my heart isbreaking. I could tell her nothing; _he_ has forbidden it. "

"_He!_" repeated the young man, furiously, "great heavens, can you pleadsuch authority, and to me?"

"Forgive me, oh, forgive me; I am so feeble, so miserably helpless, words escape me when I do not know it. Do not bring them up against me. Oh, Ralph, I am very unhappy. The lonesomeness was killing me, and nowyou have come upon me unawares, to turn that dull anguish into torture. How could you ask me to go home? it was cruel--ah, me, how cruel!"

"What can I do, how shall I act?" cried Ralph, appealing to AgnesBarker, who stood earnestly regarding the scene. 

"Leave her at present, " said the girl, softly smoothing Lina's tresseswith her hand. "Reflection may induce her to accept your noble offer;certainly, at present, she is too ill for any attempt at a removal. "

"I will consult my mother, " said Ralph, looking mournfully down upon theunhappy girl, whose eyelids began to quiver from the weight of tearsthat pressed against them, when he spoke of her benefactress; "Lina, promise me not to leave this place till I have consulted with her. "

Again Lina struggled for energy to speak, but her voice only reached himin a hoarse whisper. 

"Ralph, don't; please never mention me to mamma, it can only doharm--promise this, Ralph. I cannot plead, I cannot weep, but if this ismy last breath it prays you not to mention that you saw me, to yourmother. "

Ralph hesitated till he saw Lina's eyes, that were fixed imploringlyupon him, closing with a deathly slowness, while her face became aspallid as the linen on which it rested. 

"Lina, Lina, I promise anything, only do not turn so white!" heexclaimed, terrified by her stillness. 

She opened her eyes quickly, and tried to smile, but the effort died outin a faint quiver of the lips. She was too much exhausted even forweeping. 

"Come, " said Agnes, laying her hand on the young man's arm; "thisexcitement will do her more injury than you dream of. Go down stairs alittle while, and wait for me there. "

Ralph took Lina's poor little hand from its rest on the counterpane, and, with a touch of his old tenderness, was about to press his lipsupon it; but a bitter memory seized him, and he dropped it, murmuring, "Poor child, poor child, it is a hard wish, but God had been merciful ifthis stillness were, indeed, death!"

A pang of tender sorrow ran through Lina's apparently lifeless frame, asa broken lily is disturbed by the wind, but she had no strength even fora sob; she heard his footsteps as he went out, but they sounded afaroff, and, when all was still, she fell into total unconsciousness. 

Then the woman who had received Ralph and Agnes came in from anadjoining room, and, bending down, listened for the breath that had justbeen suspended; when satisfied that the poor sufferer was totallyunconscious, she turned with a fierce look upon Agnes. 

"Now, Agnes, tell me the meaning of this intrusion. How dare you bringthat young man here without my permission?"

"I brought him, madam, because you were resolved to leave my share ofthe compact half-performed. Did I not warn you in the beginning that hisalienation from this girl must be complete? Nothing would convince himthat she was utterly lost, but the sight he has just witnessed. It was adangerous experiment, but I have conquered with it. "

"And for what purpose? I tell you, girl, all this craft and perseveranceis exhausted for nothing. You are constantly crossing my purposes, andonly to defeat yourself in the end. "

"It is useless reasoning in this fashion, " answered Agnes, insolently;"half-confidences always lead to confusion. The truth is, madam, youhave not at any time really studied my interests; there is somethingbeyond it all that I have had no share in from the first. I have beenfrank and above-board, while you are all mystery. My love for the younggentleman below was confessed the moment my own heart became consciousof it. Nothing but his lingering trust in this frail thing kept back allthe response to that love that I can desire. This visit has utterlyuprooted that faith. The way is clear now. Another month, and you shallsee if I am defeated. "

The woman smiled derisively. 

"Poor fool, " she said, "a single sweep of my hand--or a word from mylips, and all your romantic dreams are dashed away. I have separated themiserable girl from her lover to gratify the wildest delusion that everentered a human brain. This very night I sent for you, that this game ofcross-purposes might have an end. The confidence you have so often askedfor, would have been yours but for this rash introduction of the youngman into a house he should never have seen. "

"Give me that confidence now, and it may avail something!" answeredAgnes, always insolent and disrespectful to the woman before her; "thatI have some of your precious blood in my veins, you have taken plenty ofopportunities to impress upon me, but it shall not prevent my seekinghappiness in my own way!"

"Then you are resolved to entice this young man into a marriage, Agnes?"

"I am resolved that he shall desire it as much as myself. "

Again Zillah covered the girl with her scornful glances. 

"I tell you, girl, " she broke forth passionately, "this is a subjectthat you shall not dare to trifle with. I desire you to leave GeneralHarrington's house; it is no safe home for you. Obey me, and, in alittle time all the fragments of my legacy shall be yours. "

"I should fancy those fragments were pretty well used up, if all thefinery in this house is paid for, " said Agnes, with a scornful laugh. "Even as a speculation, my own project is the best. "

"Then you are determined to stay in the house with this young man?"

"Why, am I not well protected, and is it not the most natural thing inthe world? Mrs. Harrington has lost her companion--I fill her place. Then, there is the precious old chambermaid; she might have moredangerous people in the house than I am. "

"True, " muttered Zillah, thoughtfully. "Well, girl, take your own way alittle longer; but, remember, I must have a promise that no engagementshall be made with Ralph Harrington without my previous knowledge. A fewweeks, Agnes, will bring our affairs to a crisis--when you and I shallbe all-powerful or nothing. As for this wild--but hush!"

Zillah pointed warningly toward the bed, where Lina was struggling intoconsciousness again. "Are you better, love?" she inquired, gentlybending over the pale form. 

But Lina faintly turned away her head, without even an attempt atspeech. 

Taking advantage of the moment, Agnes left the chamber, and glided downinto the room where Ralph sat waiting, harassed with painful thoughts. 

He did not notice Agnes as she came gliding up the room, and took herplace on the sofa by his side; but directly the clasp of soft fingers onhis hand, which fell listlessly on the cushion, made him look up, andthe large, compassionate eyes of Agnes Barker looked into his. Unconsciously he clasped the fingers that had sought his. "How is shenow? I am sure that you were kind to her, poor young thing. "

Agnes did not answer; but, as he looked up, astonished at her silence, the sight of her dark eyes flooded with tears, and a broken sob thatstruggled up from her bosom, took him by surprise. In all hisacquaintance with her, he had never seen Agnes shed a tear till thatmoment. 

"You are ready to cry, " he said, gratefully. "Heaven knows a betterreason for tears never existed--poor, lost girl!"

"You give me too much credit, " said Agnes, in a low voice; "from my soulI pity the unhappy young creature up-stairs--but, indeed, indeed I envyher, too!"

"Envy her?"

"Indeed, yes, that so much love--such heavenly forgiveness can outliveher fault; that she has even now the power to reject the compassionwithheld from deeper and purer feelings in others. Oh, yes, RalphHarrington, it is envy more than anything else that fills my eyes withtears. "

"Agnes!" exclaimed the young man, breathlessly. 

The girl bent her head, and made a faint effort to withdraw her handfrom his tightened clasp. Directly Ralph relinquished the hand slowly, and arose. 

"Miss Barker, you pity me. You feel compassion for the tenacity ofaffection which clings around its object even in ruin. I understandthis, and am grateful. "

Agnes clenched the rejected hand in noiseless passion, but Ralph onlysaw the great tears that fell into her lap. He stood a momentirresolute, and then placed himself again by her side. 

"Do not weep, Miss Barker; you only make my unhappiness more complete!"

He looked up, and again their eyes met. 

"If it were so, you can at least give me pity in exchange for pity!" shesaid, with gentle humility; "faith to the faithless cannot forbid thisto me. "

Ralph was silent; in the tumult of his thoughts he forgot to answer, andthat moment Zillah entered the room. 

CHAPTER LXX. 

MABEL HARRINGTON AND HER SON. 

Ben Benson was never at home now; he went into the woods daily to snarepartridges, and set box-traps for rabbits, he said; and the inmates ofGeneral Harrington's mansion were too sad and disheartened even forsmiles, at the idea of rabbits or partridges on New York island. Indeed, the old fellow was too unhappy for his usual avocations. He would notforce himself to sit down at his nets, or touch the carpenter's toolswith which the boat-house was garnished. A strange belief haunted himnight and day, that Lina was somewhere in the wood, frozen to death, andburied in the snow drifts--or worse, perhaps, had fallen through someair-hole in the ice, and perished, calling in vain for help! The ideathat she had deliberately left her home, never found a place in hisbelief for an instant. 

Sometimes, in these wanderings, the old seaman saw Mabel Harringtontaking her own solitary way through the woods, but he had no wish toaddress her; and, if she passed near him, would shrink behind some tree, or pretend to be busy with his traps; for the mere sight of her face, rigid and stern with a continued strain of thought, was enough to strikehim mute. 

Thus it was that Mabel appeared to her family now. The strength and thesunshine had departed from beneath that roof, and a dull, heavydepression lay everywhere about her. General Harrington rather made theold mansion a convenience than a home; half his time was spent at theclub-house. He had of late taken rooms at one of those aristocraticup-town hotels, so foreign in all their appointments, that they might aswell be in the Boulevards of Paris as in New York, and often remained inthem all night; thus, without any apparent abandonment of his wife, hein reality made the separation between them more complete than it hadyet been. 

Did Mabel never inquire of herself the reason of all this? Alas! it isdifficult to say what anxiety or idea fixed itself uppermost in thatdisturbed mind. The period was one of continued and heavy depressionwith her. She had ceased to struggle with her own heart, or with thedead, heavy weight of misery that settled each hour colder and moredrearily about her life. She took no interest in the household, but lefteverything to the management of Agnes Barker. The very presence of theyoung woman was oppressive to her, yet so drearily had her high spirityielded itself to the one numbing thought of James Harrington's absence, that she had no power even to repel this repulsion, much less cast itsobject off. 

For a time, Ralph had broken up the monotony of this dead life, with hiswild conjectures and bitter complaints. He spoke of his half-brother inwrath the more stern and deep, that his love for him had once been sofull of tenderness. He was like a man whose old religious faith beingonce uprooted, believes that no other can exist, and that the Deity isunstable. In his wrath against this brother--in his weak distrust ofLina, the young man had recklessly cast away the brightest jewel of hisnature, because they appeared faithless; he believed that all humanitywas frail. Alas! when such gems of the soul drop away in youth, it isonly with hard experience and keen suffering that they can be gatheredback from the depths of life again. 

But, during the last few days, Ralph had seen little of his mother. Hisinterview with Lina, and his promise of silence, had effected this. Thedead certainty that fell upon him of her utter unworthiness, had buriedall the fiery passions of his heart into a smouldering desire forrevenge on the man who had smitten her down from the altar of hisesteem. Formerly he had raved, and argued, and out-run his own belief ofher faithlessness--hoping, poor fellow, that out of all this storm someproof would be wrung that his suspicions wronged her. His mother's sweetattempts at defence--her broken-hearted efforts to explain away thedisgraceful appearances that hung around the departure of Harrington andher protégé at the same time, only exasperated him. He wanted her tocondemn his suspicions--contradict, trample on them. He would havegloried in any injustice against himself, if she had only stood upstoutly against his bitter suspicions. But Mabel was too truthful forthis. The proud heart recoiled in her bosom, as from a blow, at everyharsh word against either Harrington or her adopted daughter. The strongsense of justice, which was her finest attribute, kept her from thoseimpetuous bursts of defence, which a single gleam of doubt would havebrought vividly to her lips. 

Mabel did not for an instant believe in the coarse interpretation whichothers might have given to the elopement; had that been possible, thekeenest of her pain might have been dulled by contempt. No, no! Theworst that she thought was that Harrington, for some inexplicablereason, had withdrawn Lina from her home to marry her in private; butthis was enough. It had broken up that confidence, unexpressed, butalways a holy principle in both, which had so long held those two soulstogether, spite of everything that ought to have kept them apart, anddid keep them apart, completely as the most rigid moralist could havedemanded. 

But we suffer as often for our feelings as our actions; and, in the barefact that a woman like Mabel Harrington--so capable of deep feeling, sorich in all those higher qualities that ripen to perfection only in thewarm atmosphere of love--had married a man whom she never could love, lay a bitter reason for her unhappiness; the one sin that had woven itsiron thread through what seemed to others the golden coil of her life. 

Mabel saw all this; for years the knowledge of her own rash act hadcoiled the snake around her heart, which was eating away its life, hadbeen the shadow around her footsteps which nothing could sweep away, noteven her own will. She was a slave, the slave of her own deadly sin; fora deadly sin it is which links two unloving hearts together, even in sobrief a period of eternity as this world. And Mabel was too good, toogreat, too kindly of heart to be the bond slave of one sin forever andever, to feel her soul eternally dragged back by the chain and ballwhich she had fastened to it in one rash moment of her early youth. Hadshe been otherwise, some thought of escape would have presented itselfto a mind so full of strength and vivid imagination as hers. On everyhand the law, and society itself, held out temptations, and pointed tothe way by which she might cast off her bonds, and, as thousands do, escape the penalty of one rash act by a cowardly defiance of the lawsof God, under the mean shelter of human legislation. 

In a country where venal statesmen make "marriage vows as false asdicers' oaths, " by reducing a solemn sacrament into a miserable compact, Mabel Harrington might have escaped the evil of her own act, and taken adastardly refuge in the law, but the thought had never entered her mind. It is a hard penalty for sins, which the world will not recognize assuch, when every hour calls for some atonement--when each household stepis made heavy by loveless thoughts; Mabel was conscious of her ownwrong, and even these small doling atonements never regarded by theworld, yet which tell so fearfully on the life, had been patientlyperformed. She had given way to no sentimental repinings--nor striven tocast the blame upon others that justly belonged to herself; but, like abrave true-hearted woman, had always been willing to gather up thenight-shade her own hands had planted, with the flowers that God hadstill left in her path, without appealing to the world for sympathy orapproval. 

This had been Mabel Harrington's life--a coarse woman would, perhaps, have contented herself with its material comforts, and, without loving, ceased to desire the capacities of love; the world is full of such. Awicked woman would have skulked out of her fate through the oily-hingedportals of the law--a feeble woman would have pined herself to death;but Mabel was none of these, else my pen would not love to dwell uponher character, as it does now. She had gone through her life honestly, cultivating all her good feelings with genial hopefulness, seizing uponthe bad with a firm will, and crowding them back into the darkness, where they had little chance to grow. 

But, sin is like the houseleek planted upon a mossy roof, --after onefibre has taken root, you find the tough heads springing up everywhere, fruitful of harsh, thorny-edged leaves, and nothing else. You workdiligently, tear them up by the roots, trample them to pieces, and, whenyou think the evil of that first planting is altogether eradicated, upfrom the heart of some moss-flower, or creeping out from the curved edgeof the eaves, comes a fresh crop; and you know that the one fibre isspreading and entangling itself constantly with a hold that you littledreamed of in the outset. 

Mabel had planted her one houseleek, and it was with faithful exertionshe kept it from covering her whole nature. At times it seemed thatevery beautiful thing of life would be eaten up and choked to death inthis one tough growth, and at this period of her life, Mabel felt likesitting down in apathy, while she watched the evil thing thrive. 

CHAPTER LXXI. 

THE MISSING BOOK. 

Mabel sat, hour after hour, week after week, passive, still, and sad, with a world of sorrow in her face, looking back upon the jewels thathad dropped away from her life, mournfully, but with little wish togather them up again. Her husband never asked an explanation of thisstrange mood in his wife, but at times he seemed perfectly conscious ofit, and to feel a hidden pleasure in her depression; for, though he didnot love this woman, the old man's vanity was as quick as ever, and itpleased him to see that her own soul was taking the vengeance on itselfthat he had bartered off for a price. Miserable, selfish, old man! Allthe gold of his life had turned to paltry tinsel years ago. 

At another time, Mabel was too quick of thought not to have remarked thesingularity of General Harrington's silence regarding the departure ofhis step-son, but now she was only thankful to shrink away from thesubject; and, during their brief interviews, nothing but the most blandinquiries, and polite common-places, marked his behavior. He seemed inhigh good humor--more than usually lavish of money, and altogether oneof the most charming, antique gentlemen in the world. Shallow worldlingswould tell you that this decorous old rebel was happier than hisvictims, and point to his rosy cheeks, his eyes twinkling with sunshine, and his handsome, portly figure, as the proof. Let worldlings think so, if they like; for my part, I would rather have the pain of a fine naturelike Mabel's, than the smooth, selfish sensuality, which some menhonestly call happiness. Shallow and frozen waters are never turbulent, but who envies the ice over one, or the pebbles under the other?Happiness! Why, one little word in that handsome, old man's ear, wouldmake him shiver, and tremble, and look the coward, as Mabel would neverdo, woman though she was--the one word _death_; just speak it! Mark howthe color will flee from his frightened face! Speak that same word toher, and you will see her features, so sad before, light up with apearly glow, like that shed through an alabaster lamp when its perfumedoil is alight. 

But Mabel is just beginning to awake from the thrall in which her mindhas been held, and wonder a little at Ralph's changed manner--his lookis so grave and stern now--he utters no complaint, and says but littlein any way; these moods shock his mother less than the old one, but itlifts her out of her dreams, and makes her thoughtful once more. But, Ralph is no longer communicative--he is sometimes seen holding longconversations with Agnes Barker in the now deserted breakfast-room, buthe avoids honest old Ben, and talks cautiously and under restraint withhis mother. This is a new phase of Ralph's character which Mabelregards with something like surprise; but her energies are allprostrated for the time, and in these vague surmises there is not shockenough to arouse them into life again. 

There was one thing which Mabel, with all her thinking, had never yetbeen able to solve--why had James Harrington found it needful topersuade that inexperienced girl away from her home? There existed noreason for it. He was wealthy--his own master--accountable to no one;surely it was not fear of his younger brother, who would have given thevery heart from his bosom, had James desired it. If he loved Lina, asingle appeal to the noble young fellow's generosity would have beenenough--then why wound and insult him by a course so unnecessarilycruel?

Mabel revolved these questions over and over in her mind, till theythrew her thoughts back upon herself. Had she anything to accountfor--had James suspected the secret of her own weary life, and, fearingto wound her by his love for another, fled to be alone with hishappiness?

This thought broke up the apathy into which she had fallen, with asudden shock, as we hear sheets of ice crack, and shoot a thousandsilver arrows over what has been a smooth surface the moment before. Anew thought seized upon her--a fear that made her tremble from head tofoot. 

Mabel was alone in her boudoir, when this new terror fell upon her. Shearose suddenly, and going up to her escritoire, unlocked it, andsearched for the vellum book. It was nowhere to be found. She tore thepapers out in pale eagerness, opened drawers, unlocked secretcompartments, searched in other cabinets, till every nook and corner ofher apartments had been examined. Then she sat down, breathless, and sopale that the face which looked back on her from the opposite mirror, seemed that of another person. Where had the book gone--who had dared toremove it from the place where, for years and years, it had been keptsacred from all eyes, as the pulses of her own heart?

Breathless with anxiety, desperate with apprehension, determined toquestion every servant of the house, she rang the bell. 

Agnes Barker presented herself in answer to this summons. The girl had, of late, seemed to find pleasure in forcing herself upon Mabel, andwould frequently make an excuse to seek her room in place of theservant, whenever one was summoned. Though her presence was generallyunwelcome, Mabel was glad to see her then. Excitement had, for themoment, swept away the nervous recoil with which she always regardedher. 

"Miss Barker, I had a book in this escritoire, bound in vellum, andfilled with manuscript notes. It had a curious gold clasp. You cannotmistake the description. That book is missing. "

"Well, madam!" answered the girl, with cold composure; "is it of me youdemand that book? I have not seen it. This is the first time I ever sawyour desk open. I believe the key has always been in your ownpossession!"

"I thought so, " answered Mabel, feeling once more among the charmsattached to her watch, to be sure the key was still there; "I thoughtso, but the book is gone. "

"Shall I call the servant, madam? The new chambermaid possibly knowssomething of it; she has taken charge of this room lately. "

"Indeed, I have not observed, " said Mabel. "Yes, send her here. "

CHAPTER LXXII. 

FRAGMENTS OF MABEL'S JOURNAL. 

Agnes went out quietly, as if there had been neither anger nor suspicionin Mrs. Harrington's voice. The poor lady sat trembling from head tofoot, still searching the room wildly with her eyes, till the mulattochambermaid came in. 

"What's de matter wid de chile; she's white as snow, and seems a'most ascold; 'pears like something 'stresses her, " said the woman, casting asidelong glance at the lady from under the half-closed lids of her eyes, which never seemed capable of opening themselves fully in Mabel'spresence. 

"Woman!" said Mabel, sharply, for her anxiety was like a pain. "Woman, Ihave lost a book from my escritoire yonder--a white book, clasped withgold--what has become of it?"

"Goodness knows, missus! I don't know nothin' 'bout no book, praise deLor'! I dussent know one kind of readin' from t'other. Books ain't nokind o' use to dis colored pusson, no how; so t'ain't I as has gone andtuk it. "

"No, no, but you may have seen it. Possibly the desk may have been leftopen, and you, not knowing it from other books, have put it away amongthose of the library. See, it was filled with writing like this. "

Here Mabel took up a pen, and hastily dashed off a line or two on aloose sheet of paper. The woman took the paper, turned it wrong end up, and began to examine it with serious scrutiny, as if she were strivingto make out its meaning. 

"'Pears like the inside was like this, miss?" she said at last, withanother glance at the pale face of her mistress. 

Mabel took the paper impatiently from her. "No, like this, " she cried, reversing the page. "You should be able to understand the peculiaritiesof the marks, even though you cannot read. "

"Like dis is it--de high marks shootin' up so, and the long one runningout scrigly scrawley like dis one; 'pears 's if I'd seen 'em afore, but'twasn't in a bounden book, golly knows. "

"You have seen the writing--very well--where was it?"

"Up in Master James' room, the day he went off. Them's the same marks, Lor' knows. "

"In Mr. James Harrington's room!" exclaimed Mabel, white as snow. 

"Please, missus, tell jus' what the book was outside and in. "

Mabel held up the sheet of paper on which she had written, but ittrembled like a plucked leaf in her hand. 

"This size, with a white cover, edged with gold. The lock was claspedwith a trinket like this on my watch, only larger, and with red sparksset in it. "

"Like dis, with little red stuns--the cover white, and shut wid a thinglike this. Yes, missus, Master James had a book jus' like de one youmean in his room, de berry morning afore he done and went off!"

"Go, " said Mabel, shivering, "go search for it!"

The woman shuffled herself out of the room; directly she returned, withseveral leaves of crumpled writing in one hand, and some small objectclenched in the other. 

"The book's done gone, missus; but here's something dat I found on histable, 'sides dis what I sifted out of de ashes. "

She handed Mabel some crumpled pages of her journal, evidently torn fromthe book; the half of a broken heart, dulled with fire, and the cornerof what had once been a vellum cover, burned almost away, but with agleam of the tarnished gold and white upon the edge. 

"Sakes alive, how white you is, missus!" exclaimed the woman, and adisagreeable gleam broke from under her half-shut eyelids, as she sawMabel stagger and sink faintly back into her chair, grasping thefragments of her journal as she fell. 

"No, no!" she gasped, repulsing the mulatto with her hand: "I am notwhite--I am not ill. These--these--you found them in Mr. JamesHarrington's room!"

"Them papers was on his table wid his cigar-case, an' pipe, an' demtings. De gol' heart, and dat oder, dis chile fished out o' de grate, for de Lord just as 'tis dare. "

"Go!" commanded Mabel, hoarsely. "I know where the book went to; that isenough!"

"'Pears like you is goin' to faint, " answered the woman, who seemedreluctant to leave her. 

"No, I am well--very well. Leave me. "

The woman turned away, and, as she went forth, the disagreeable smile wehave before mentioned, crept slowly across her mouth. 

As the door closed, the fragments of her journal dropped from Mabel'shand; her arms fell loosely downward, and shrinking to a pale heap inthe chair, she fainted quite away. 

CHAPTER LXXIII. 

THE TWO BROTHERS. 

Ralph had been away from home since the day before Mabel was taken ill. He had left suddenly, after a conversation with Agnes in thebreakfast-room; and, though the governess sat up till late at night, anxious and watchful, he did not return. Thus it happened that Mrs. Harrington was, for the time, left completely in the hands of herservants. 

But, where had Ralph gone, and why? To indulge in one strong passion, and escape the meshes of another, the young man had left home. Spite ofher craft, and that consummate self-control that seemed incompatiblewith her evil nature, Agnes had at last madly confessed her love to theyoung man. It is possible that some kindly expression on his part mighthave led to this unwomanly exposure, for Agnes had an amount of sullenpride in her nature which would have kept her silent, had not somemisinterpreted word or action led her astray. Ralph's unfeignedsurprise, joined to the cold restraint with which he met her outgush ofpassion, fell like cold lead upon her fiery nature. All that was bitterand hard in her soul, rose up at once to resent the indignity which herown uncurbed impulses had provoked. But, she was tenacious of an objectonce aimed at; and, instead of the hope that had filled her life tillnow, came a firm resolution, at any cost of truth or conscience, to wina return of her love, even though it were to cast it back in bitterretribution, for the shame under which she writhed. 

This was a new source of distress to the young man, and he left homereally without any definite object, but to escape the society of aperson whose presence had become almost a reproach to him. He did notspeak of his departure to Mrs. Harrington, because its object wasindefinite in his own mind, and he had spent one night from home beforeshe was aware of his absence. 

By some attraction, which we do not pretend to explain, the young manwent first to the house where he had seen Lina. He had no wish to enterit, and shrunk painfully from the thought of seeing her again; but stillhe lingered around the dwelling--left it--returned again, and could nottear himself away, so tenacious and cruel was his object. 

His object--true it was not love; now the very word seemed enough todrive him mad. The unwelcome passion of one woman heaped upon the wrongsdone him by another, was enough to make the very remembrance repulsive. No, love was lost to him, he madly thought, forever. But there is yet afiercer and more burning passion and that urged him forward. He would berevenged on the man who had torn all the joy from his life. He wouldmeet that false brother face to face, beyond that Ralph had calculatednothing. It seemed to him that the very glances of his eyes would beenough to cover the traitor with eternal remorse. So he watched andwaited before Zillah's house, hoping, burning with impatience, thatHarrington would pass in or out while seeking the presence of hisvictim, and thus they might meet. But he watched in vain. 

Already had Ralph inquired at every hotel where James Harrington wouldbe likely to stay, and now weary and full of smouldering rage, heresolved to go home, and there await some news of him. 

On his way up town, a hotel carriage passed him, filled with passengersfrom some newly arrived train. In that carriage Ralph saw his brother. 

The carriage stopped after a little. James Harrington, dusty, pale andtravel-worn, stepped out, and stood face to face with his young brother. 

For one instant his fine eye lighted up, and he grasped the youth'shand. 

"Ralph!"

Ralph wrenched his hand away, and James saw that his eyes were full oflurid fire. 

"What is this, Ralph? You look strangely!" he said. 

"I feel strangely, " answered the youth, shuddering under the rush oftenderness that surged up through his wrath. "I have been searching foryou, sir, waiting for you"----

"Why, it is not so long since I left home, Ralph. "

"It seems an eternity to me, " answered the boy; and spite of hiswrathful manhood, tears sprang up, and spread like a mist over thesmouldering fire of his eyes. 

James looked at him with grave earnestness, his own face was pale andcareworn, his eyes heavy with a potent sorrow, but it took an expressionof deeper anxiety as he perused the working features before him. 

"My dear boy, something is amiss with you; come into the hotel. I have aroom here yet. Cheer up, it must be a bitter sorrow, indeed, if yourbrother cannot help you out of it. "

Ralph ground his teeth, and the word "hypocrite" broke through them. 

But James did not hear it, he had turned to enter the hotel. Ralphfollowed him, growing paler and paler as he walked. The bitter wraththat had been for a moment disturbed was concentrating itself at hisheart again. 

They entered James Harrington's room, a small chamber in the higheststory of the hotel, and both sat down. 

"Now, " said James, kindly, "tell me why it is that you are so changed. Iscarcely know you with that look, Ralph. "

"I scarcely know myself with these feelings, " cried the youth, smitinghis breast in a sudden storm of passion. "Oh! James, James! how couldyou be so generous, so kind to a poor fellow only to plunder and crushhim at last? What had I done that you should tear up my youth by theroots, just as it began to feel the warmth of life?"

"Ralph, are you mad?"

"It is not your fault or hers if I am not mad, " was the bitter reply. 

"Or hers!" repeated Harrington, turning deathly white, "or hers--who areyou speaking of?"

"Of the woman we both love. I cannot speak her name to you. How dare youbrand that noble creature with shame, after using the privileges of myfather's house to win her love? Was it not enough that you had stolenher heart from me--from us all? Could nothing but her disgrace contentyour horrible vanity?"

"Ralph, Ralph, in the name of Heaven, what is this?" cried Harrington, starting up with an outcry of terrible agony, which whitened his face tothe lips. 

"What is this!" thundered Ralph, "are you detected at last? archhypocrite, that you are--desecrating the roof that you should haveupheld, leaving traces of your wickedness on every thing that ever lovedyou. I ask you again, why did you seek her love? why, having won it, didyou leave her to shame?"

"Ralph, speak briefly and clearly--what is it you mean? has your fatherput this cruel charge against me into your mind? No more hints, no morevague upbraidings--out with it at once--what do you charge me with?"

Ralph did not speak, there was a grandeur of passion in the man thatheld him silent. 

"In the name of God, speak!" cried the brother, "you are killing me. "

He spoke truly; no human strength could long have withstood the strainof anxiety that cramped his features almost into half their size, andmade his strong hands quiver like reeds. 

"In the name of God, speak!" he cried out again; "of what do they chargeme?"

"I charge you, " said Ralph, in a faltering voice, for the power of thatman's innocence was upon him as he spoke; "I charge you with the ruin ofthe purest and noblest"--

"Ruin!--who dares"----

"Yes, ruin--has she not left my father's roof, followed you into thismiserable city--left us all, refusing to go back"----

"Boy, boy, she has not--she has not. God help us all, she has not donethis. Your father is pledged, solemnly pledged against it. Ralph, mydear boy, there is some mistake here; she cannot be so desperate. "

"She left home on the very day with yourself, in the storm, when thesnow and the ice cut one to the heart. "

"Yes, I remember; the storm seemed of a piece with the rest; a hopefulheart would have frozen in it. I remember that storm well. "

"But she has greater cause to remember it, for in its drifts was buriedher good name forever; if it could have whitened over the infamy thatfell on our house, I should have prayed the snows to be eternal!"

"Ralph, Ralph, this is terrible!"

"Terrible!" repeated the young man, "you should have thought howterrible before tempting that poor young creature to her ruin. The houseis desolate as the grave. My mother wanders through it like a ghost; sheis worn to a shadow mourning over the ruin of her child, for Lina wasdear as her own child could"----

James Harrington struggled for voice; his pale features began to quiver;his lips parted; he grasped Ralph by the arm. 

"Brother, brother, is it Lina who has left home?"

"Lina--yes. "

James Harrington dropped into his chair without uttering a word; and, for the first time in his life, Ralph saw great tears rush to his eyes. 

"Oh, my God! make me, make me grateful!" he cried, and a great shudderof joy shook his soul. "Ralph Harrington, you will never know how greata blessing your words have been to me. "

Ralph stood by, amazed. The face of his brother looked like that of aglorified saint. There was no guilt in him; the young man felt this inthe depths of his soul; wrong there certainly was somewhere, but not inthe great-hearted man before him. 

"Brother, " said James, arousing himself, and reaching forth his hand, "now, tell me what this trouble is. I can listen like a man--has Linaleft her home? poor child, she loved you, Ralph--what drove her away?"

"I do not know--till now"----

"You thought it was me. Shame on it, Ralph, I did not think you wouldbelieve ill of me. " The tear that quivered on that young cheek, provedthat at least "lost faith" had been restored to him. "Come, " said JamesHarrington, warmly shaking the hand in his, "let us search out this goodchild, and save her. "

"She will not be saved--she refuses to go home, " answered Ralph, sadly. 

"Not so, not so--have more faith, my boy. There is something here whichwe do not understand, but not guilt, certainly not _her_ guilt--did notyour mother guide her up from the cradle almost? besides that, does shenot love you with her whole heart, and that is not a little? Tell mewhere to find her, and I will soon tear out the heart of this mystery. Iam strong now, Ralph, and feel as if mountains would be nothing in myway. Come. "

And Ralph went hopefully forth with his brother. 

CHAPTER LXXIV. 

GENERAL HARRINGTON'S SECRET. 

Harrington and Ralph stood opposite Zillah's house, pausing for amoment's conversation before they went in. 

"No, " said Ralph, earnestly, "do not ask it; I will not give even thisevidence of a doubt which I never can feel again. Go yourself, and seeher alone. Learn, if possible, by what evil influence she has been wiledfrom her home. If she has fled to escape the importunity of my love, tell her to fear it no more; I will leave the country--do anythingrather than stand in the way of her return to my mother. "

Harrington wrung the hand which Ralph had in his earnestness extended. 

"Wait at the hotel, " he said; "in an hour expect me with news. I willnot leave the poor child till her secret is mine. Be hopeful, Ralph, forI tell you Lina is an honest, good girl, and a little time will make itall clear. "

"God grant that we do not deceive ourselves!" said Ralph, hopefully. "Iwill wait for you, but it will be a terrible hour, James. "

"But such hours go by like the rest, " answered Harrington, with a gravesmile; "you will learn this in time. "

With these words, James Harrington crossed the street, and enteredZillah's house. 

Ralph watched him till the door closed, and then walked slowly back tothe hotel. 

Harrington was right--such hours do go by like the rest; those that aretear-laden toil on a little slower than such as are bright with smiles, but the eternity which crowds close upon them receives both alike, andthey float away into the past, mistily together. 

In less than the given time, James Harrington came back, but his stepwas heavy as he mounted the stairs, and a look of haggard trouble hungupon his brow. Ralph felt his breath come painfully; he dared not speak, for never in his life had he felt such awe of the man before him. Atlength he drew close to James, and whispered:

"One word, only one: is she lost?"

"Ralph" said Harrington, drawing a hand across his forehead once ortwice, as if to sweep away some pain that ached there, "I am at a losswhat to say!"

Ralph turned white and drew back. 

"No, no, it is not as you think. The sweet girl is blameless as theangels, but she is bound by promises and obligations that even I cannotfeel free to fling aside: yet this secrecy can only end in pain. It ismy duty, at any risk, to free her name from reproach. Ralph, I havesomething very distressing to tell you, and it must be told. "

"If Lina is innocent, if she loves me, all else is nothing!" answeredRalph, with enthusiasm. "Oh, James, you have made a man of me oncemore!"

"This hopefulness pains me, Ralph. "

"How? Did you not charge me to keep hopeful? did you not tell me thatLina was blameless? While I can respect, love--nay, adore her--what elsehas the power to wound me?"

James Harrington shrank back, and his face flushed. 

"Hush! hush! these words are too ardent--they wound, they repulse me! Ifyou guessed all that I know, your own heart would recoil from them. "

"Guessed all that you know!--well, speak out. It must be somethingterrible, indeed, if it prevents me loving her, after what you havealready said. "

James Harrington hesitated; looked wistfully at the eager face turnedfull of inquiry to his, and at last said, in a low, almost solemn voice:

"Ralph, Lina is your father's daughter. "

"My father's daughter?" cried Ralph, aghast; "my father's daughter!"

"He told her so with his own lips, binding her by a promise not toreveal the secret to us. Poor thing, it was too weighty for herstrength; she grew wild under it and fled to the woman you saw, whoclaims to be her mother. "

"Claims to be her mother! That woman--it is false!"

"I fear not, Ralph! I myself recognized that woman as a beautiful slavewhom your father owned when my own poor mother died. She has changedbut"----

"A slave--Lina, the child of a slave? I tell you it is false; the dewsof heaven are not more pure than the blood that fills those blue veins;there is some fraud here!" cried Ralph, impetuously. 

"I fear not. She is certain of it; this cruel conviction is killing her. But for her feeble state, I never could have won her secret. Poor child, poor child, what can be done for her?"

Ralph walked the room impetuously, beating the air with his hand: all atonce he stopped--the cloud upon his brow cleared away--his lips partedalmost with a cry. 

"I tell you, brother James, this is a fraud, to which Lina's face aloneis enough to give the lie! Ask Ben Benson--only ask Ben, he is truthfulas the sun; he has known her from the cradle. Ben Benson told me withhis own lips, that Lina's mother was dead!"

James Harrington became excited; his eye kindled. 

"Did Ben Benson tell you this?"

"He did, indeed; but why waste time in guessing? Let us go home; the oldfellow will help us to put this right. "

James hesitated, and shrunk within himself; the look of pain came backto his face, and he answered with some constraint, that the steamersailed for Europe on the morrow, and his passage was already taken. 

Ralph looked astonished and distressed. 

"Would you leave us now?" he said, reproachfully. 

James remained thoughtful a moment, and then answered with a touch ofmournfulness:

"No, I will remain for a little time. So long as I am wanted, it must beso. "

"Then, let us go home at once. "

"Yes, it is a duty; I will return with you, " said Harrington, withgentle concession; and, spite of himself, a gleam of pleasure broke intohis eyes. 

"Come, then, come!" cried Ralph, impetuously. "I cannot breathe till oldBen has spoken. Come!"

"Have patience, Ralph; let us talk this matter over more quietly. We arenot at liberty to tell this painful secret to your mother, it wouldshock her too much; besides, I pledged my honor to the poor child thatit should not be done. Let me find General Harrington, and learn thewhole truth from him. If Lina proves to be your sister--do not turn sopale, my dear boy--if she proves to be this, you must go with me toEurope, and learn to regard her with that gentle affection which becomesthese new relations. "

"I tell you, Lina is _not_ my sister; every feeling of my soul rises upto contradict it!" cried the youth, impetuously. "General Harringtonwill not say it. "

"Is the General at home now?" inquired Harrington, with a gentle wave ofthe hand. 

"No; he seldom is, of late. He almost lives at the club-house. "

"I will seek him there, " said Harrington; "come with me. "

"Not on this errand, James; I could not see my father, and maintain thatself-control which is due from a son to his parent. His sins have fallentoo heavily on me for that. "

"You are right, perhaps, " answered James, thoughtfully. "It will be apainful interview; but for her sake I will undertake it, though I hadthought all subjects of this kind were at an end between GeneralHarrington and myself. "

Ralph wrung the hand extended to him, and the two went out, each takinghis own way. 

CHAPTER LXXV. 

THE DESERTED CHAMBER. 

Mabel had been very ill; the sense of humiliation, the outrage on everyfeeling of delicacy that had beset her after the fragments of thatvellum book were placed in her hand, fell upon her strength withterrible effect. To herself, she seemed disgraced forever; the holiestportion of her life was torn away, to be trodden down by the feet of themultitude. No sin, however heinous, could have fallen upon her with morecrushing effect. The very maturity of age, which should have so farremoved her from the romance of love, embittered her grief by a sense ofself-ridicule. At times, she felt like reviling and scoffing ataffections that up to this time had been hoarded away from her ownthoughts. For a train of wrong feelings, unaccompanied by a single falseact, save that of her marriage, she was suffering the most terriblehumiliation before God and her own conscience. 

Is it strange that her nerves, so long excited and so delicate inthemselves, gave way at last, prostrating her to the earth, strengthlessas a child? She did not leave her room, she scarcely looked up when theservants entered it, and was so broken and bowed down by the weight ofher shame, that even the absence of her son was disregarded. No criminalever shrank from the face of man more sensitively than this high-souledwoman. 

It annoyed Mabel to see any one enter her apartments. When the mulattochambermaid came there, in the ordinary course of her duties, she wouldshrink back in her chair and shade her eyes, as if some hideous spectrehad crossed her path; but, if Agnes Barker entered, this nervous shockbecame unendurable, and it was with the greatest effort that she couldrefrain from rushing madly into the next room, and holding the dooragainst her intrusions. 

One night--it was that on which James Harrington went out in search ofan explanation from the General--Mabel was more terribly oppressed thanever; all the bitter recollections of a most tedious life crowded uponher at once. She longed to flee away into some new place, where humanintrusion would be impossible--and yet Agnes Barker would enter theroom; again and again she saw the poor woman wince and shiver at herapproach, but with malicious servility insisted on arranging hercushions, and performing all those little services which are so sweetwhen love prompts them, yet which fall upon us like insults whenrendered by those against whom our natures are in repulsion. To saveherself from this officious tending, Mabel inquired for the mulattowoman, preferring her presence to the endurance of attentions sooppressive. 

Agnes smiled sweetly at the inquiry: "but the chambermaid had gone out, "she said, "and might not be back till late; meantime, it was a happinessto attend madam--was the cushion comfortably arranged? should she movethe footstool?"

The girl sank upon her knees, and, in moving the ottoman, touchedMabel's foot with her hand. The excited woman sprang up with a shudder, as if a rattlesnake had crept across her ankles, and, unable to endurethe presence of her tormentor a moment more, hurried out of the room. 

"Is there no place, " she said, moving wildly forward, "no place in whichI can hide myself, and snatch a moment's rest? Will these creaturestrail themselves in my path forever and ever!"

The unhappy woman did not even think that she possessed the right tosend the offensive persons at any moment from her presence; for, sincethe discovery of her secret, Mabel no longer felt that she was themistress of these people, or that she held a power of command anywhere. All that she wished was to hide herself from every one. Influenced onlyby this unconquerable desire, she hurried up the stairs, and taking abronze lamp from a statue that occupied a niche in the first landing, went forward till she came to the door of a chamber that had beenoccupied by James Harrington. Here a gleam of intelligence shot over herpale face, and she eagerly tried the lock. It yielded, and, drawing aquick breath, she crossed the threshold, turning the key which had beenleft inside with an impatient violence, and looked round exultingly atthe solitude which she had thus insured. 

"It was here, " she said, looking around on the grate and on the table, while her pale brow darkened and her lips began to tremble; "it was herethat he burned my poor journal--here that he tore the secret from mysoul, while I lay sleeping below. After this cruel pillage of my life, he fled to hide the----No, no! Scorn he could _not_ feel--hate, pity, anything but scorn! Let me search if any vestige remains. "

She bent over the empty grate, peering through the polished bars withkeen glances, but it was bare and cold; not an ember remained, nor agrain of dust. The very ashes of her book had been cast forth with thecommon refuse. The table was empty, not a paper littered it: a bronzestandish, in which the ink was frozen to a black ice and a useless penor two, alone met her search; all was in cruel order. The bed, with itsunpressed pillows smooth as iced snow--the easy-chair wheeled into acorner of the room--the closed shutters without--everything wasdesolate. 

Mabel sat down upon the bed, the most dreary thing there; she lookedmournfully around. The wild eagerness died out of her features, andlowering her face upon the cold pillow, she began to cry like a child. Directly the chill of the night struck through and through her. Sheshivered till the teeth chattered beneath her quivering lips; what withgrief, cold, and exhaustion, the poor lady had become helpless asinfancy. Forgetting where she was, and careless of everything on earth, she gathered the bed-clothes slowly around her, and shuddered herself tosleep. 

CHAPTER LXXVI. [THE UNEXPECTED RETURN. 

As General Harrington was dining at his club that day, a note was sentup to him; and, as his meal had reached the last stage of a luxuriousdessert, he quietly broke open the envelope, and read:

 "James Harrington has found means to see Lina, and she has told him everything. I shall await you here during the next hour. ZILLAH. "

The General crushed this note slowly in his hand, a quiet smile stoleover his face, and sipping his wine with great complacency, he murmured:

"Well? but the life deeds are safe, what is his anger to me?"

But, directly a less pleasant thought forced itself on his mind; heremembered that the deeds he exulted over, were only binding so long asMabel Harrington remained contentedly beneath his roof. What if Jamesshould take advantage of the knowledge obtained from Lina, as acounterbalancing power against him? What if Mabel should at once usethat knowledge to protect herself, and by suing out a divorce, cast allthe shame he had threatened to heap upon her, back upon his own head?Certainly, James Harrington would not fail to inform her of the powersof retaliation that lay within her grasp; perhaps even now she kneweverything. 

He started up from the table, calling for his furred paletot, and gaveorders that his sleigh and horses should be brought round. The well-bredwaiters, whose duty it was to be surprised at nothing, were evidentlyastonished at these signs of agitation in the most urbane and reposefulvisitor at the club-rooms. With a hurried step he descended to thestreet, stepped into his sleigh, buried himself to the chin in furs, andthe driver dashed off with a ringing of bells and a flourish of the whiparound his horses' ears, that made them dance like Russian leaders. 

The day was growing dusky, and General Harrington urged the driver on, for he was eager to reach home and have an interview with his wife, before the younger Harrington could reveal his secret. Trusting much toMabel's noble powers of forgiveness, and more to the allurements of hisown eloquence, which should so word his contrition that it would be sureto touch a nature like hers, he was only anxious to forestall her angerby what would appear to be a frank confession of his fault; thus, bythrowing himself upon her mercy, and challenging the generosity whichhad never yet failed him, he hoped to retain control of the wealth whichhad become doubly important from the lavish expenditure of the last fewweeks. 

Thus, full of anxiety and terror regarding a revelation that JamesHarrington would have died rather than make to Mabel, the old gentlemandashed on toward home, eager to be in advance with his disgraceful news. 

The house was very still when he entered it; faint lights broke throughthe library windows and from the balcony in front of Mabel's boudoir, but the rest of the house was dark and quiet as death. GeneralHarrington had left his sleigh at the stables, which were some distancefrom the house--thus the noise of his arrival was lost on the inmates;and, as he let himself in at the front door with a latch-key, no one wasaware of his presence. 

Flinging off his wrappers in the hall, he looked into the usualsitting-room to assure himself that it was empty; then going to his ownroom long enough to change his boots for a pair of furred slippers, hewent at once to Mabel's boudoir. A fire burned dimly on the hearth, andover the table hung a small alabaster lamp, that seemed full ofimprisoned moonlight, but was not brilliant enough to subdue the quietshadows that lay like a mist all around the room. Mabel was not there, and the General sought for her in the bed-chamber adjoining, but all wasstill; the faint light that stole in from the alabaster lamp, revealed asnowy night-robe laid upon the bed, and everything prepared for rest, but the lady was absent. 

"Well, well, " muttered the old gentleman, drawing Mabel's easy-chair tothe hearth, and warming his hands by the pleasant fire, "she cannot begone far, and, at any rate, my hopeful step-son will find himself toolate for an interview to-night; so I will quietly await her here. What adreamy place it is, though; I did not think that she possessed so muchof the philosophy of life; but the strangeness reminds me that I havebeen rather too negligent of late. No matter, she will only be the moreready to welcome me; for, with all her romance and journalizing, thewoman loves me: I was sure of that, even while pushing the hard bargainwith her cavalier. Faith, " he continued, rubbing his velvety palmstogether, and leaning toward the fire, "I am glad she did not happen tobe present! A little warmth and calm thought will do everything towardspreparing me for the interview. "

With these thoughts running through his mind, the old man--for he wasold, spite of appearances--began to feel the effects of a long ride inthe cold. The bland warmth of the fire overcame him with luxuriousdrowsiness, and he would have dropped to sleep in his chair, but that itafforded no easy rest for his head, which fell forward, whenever he sankinto a doze, with a jerk that awoke him very unpleasantly. 

"I wonder Mrs. Harrington does not select more comfortable chairs forher room, " he muttered, looking around uneasily for something morecommodious to rest in. "I will call at King's to-morrow, and order oneof his latest inventions--a Voltaire or Sleepy Hollow; no wonder shewanders off for better accommodation. The fire is down in my library, soI must wait for her here. Let me see if there is anything more promisingin the next room. "

He went into the sleeping chamber as he spoke, and threw himself upon acouch near the window; but it was so remote from the fire that he soongrew cold, and started up again. Removing Mabel's night robe from thebed, he flung himself upon it, gathering the counterpane over him, andburying his head in the frilled pillows. 

"She cannot come in without waking me, that is certain, " he murmured, dreamily; "so this is the best place to wait in. I did not think thecold could have chilled me through all those furs. Ah! this iscomfortable; I can wait for madam with patience now, with, wi"----

Spite of his anxiety, the old gentleman dropped off to sleep here, witha luxurious sense of comfort. That was a quiet and profound sleep, notwithstanding the old man had many sins unrepented of. 

CHAPTER LXXVII. 

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 

About an hour after General Harrington drove up to his stables, withsuch a clash of bells, and stole from it so noiselessly, there cameanother sleigh along the high road, the very one which had borne LinaFrench to her wretched city home. Noiselessly as it had moved thatstormy night, the sleigh crept toward General Harrington's dwelling. Atthe cross of the roads it made a halt, and out from the pile of fursstepped a female, mantled from head to foot, who set her foot firmlyupon the snow, and, with a wave of her hand, dismissed the sleigh, which, turning upon its track, glided like a shadow into the darknessagain. 

The woman stood still till the sleigh was out of sight; then gatheringthe cloak about her, walked rapidly towards the house. As GeneralHarrington had done, she opened the door with a latch-key, and glidedinto the darkened vestibule. Her tread left no sound on the marble, andshe glided on through the darkness like a shadow, meeting no one, andapparently so well acquainted with the building that light wasunnecessary. At length she paused opposite a door, opened it cautiously, and entered a dusky chamber, lighted only by a small lamp that was soshaded that a single gleam of light shot across the floor, leaving therest in darkness. A bed stood in this room with a low couch, on whichAgnes Barker was sleeping. The woman took up the lamp, allowing a streamof light to fall upon her face, at the same moment it revealed that ofthe holder, which shone out hard as iron, and with a grey pallor uponit. 

"Is it you?" exclaimed the girl, starting up and putting back the hairfrom her face. "Have you found him? Has he returned? Why can't you speakto me? Where is Ralph Harrington?"

"Agnes!"

"Well, " answered the girl, impatiently. 

"It is useless pursuing this infatuation longer. The time has come whenyou must learn to command yourself. You are my daughter!"

"I don't believe it!" answered the girl, angrily. 

"Have you ever known any other parent?"

"I never had any parent!"

"Who placed you at school? who paid for your education?"

"I don't know--your mistress, I dare say, who was ashamed of my birth, and made you her agent. I have always believed so and believe it yet. "

"Agnes, you are my own child. I call on Heaven to witness it!"

"I am not fool enough to believe you. "

"You would have the poor thing separated from young Harrington, and Ihad no other way of appeasing your unreasonable demands, being yourmother. "

"Well, at any rate they are separated, and I am not married to James themillionaire, which was your wish; so, after all, I do not come outsecond best in a fair trial of strength, you see. "

"I do not wish your marriage with James Harrington, and Ralph you cannever hope for. "

"You think so!" answered the girl, with a vicious sneer. "You fancy thatone rebuff will crush me. I neither know nor care who told you that hehas met my love with scorn, fled my presence as if I were a viper on hisfather's hearth. I tell you he shall return. I have a will that shallyet bend his love to mine though it were tougher than iron. Woman, Isay again, Ralph Harrington shall yet be my lawfully wedded husband!"

"Girl, I tell you again, and with far better reasons, it can never be!"cried Zillah, towering over her as she sat upon the couch. 

"It shall be!" almost hissed the girl, meeting the black eyes bent uponher with glances of sullen wrath. 

"Not till the laws permit brothers and sisters to marry!" answeredZillah. "For I call upon the living God to witness that you are GeneralHarrington's child!" Her face hardened and grew white, as the secretburst from her lips; for she saw the shudder and heard the shriek thatbroke from her child. 

"His and yours?" questioned Agnes, pale as death. 

"His and mine!"

"And you were a slave?"

"_His_ slave. "

Agnes started up, tossing her hands wildly in the air. 

"A noble parentage--a thrice noble parentage!" she cried out, hoarsewith pain and rage. "The child of a villain, and his slave! Woman, Icould tear you into atoms, for daring to pour your black blood into mylife!"

Zillah drew back, pale and aghast. She could not speak. 

"Ah, now I know why this flesh crept, and the blood fell back upon myheart, when that vicious old man was near! My life rose up against theoutrage of its own being. I tell you, woman, if this man is my father, I_hate_ him!"

"And me, " faltered Zillah, shuddering. 

"And you, negro-slave that you are. "

"I am neither a negro or a slave, " answered Zillah, recovering a portionof her haughtiness; "the taint of my blood has died out in yours. Lookon me, unfeeling girl, and say where you find a trace of theAfrican--not in this hair, it is straight and glossy as MabelHarrington's--not on my forehead, see how smooth it is--not in my heartor brain, for when did an African ever have the mind to invent, or thecourage to carry out, the designs that fill my brain? I tell you, girl, your mother has neither the look nor the soul of a slave; but she haswill, and power, and a purpose, too, that shall lift her child so high, that the whitest woman of her father's race will yet be proud to renderher homage!"

"Dreaming, dreaming!" exclaimed Agnes, scornfully. 

CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

A STORMY PARTING. 

Zillah drew her tall form to its full height. 

"Dreaming!" she said. "No. This is the time for us to act; no, notus--you shall have nothing of this but the advantage. You are my child, his child, and I love you; therefore, let all the risk, and sin, andpain be mine. You shall have nothing but the power and the gold. Listen, girl, you should not marry James Harrington, now, though he wished it;he is no match for you--he is penniless as this boy Ralph, yourhalf-brother. Do not shrink and look at me so wildly, but learn to hearthe truth. This boy is your brother, and his son; for that reason hemust not want, when you and I have our rights; out of the property whichwas once James Harrington's, we must persuade the General to give theyoung man a few thousands; as for James, let him remain the beggar hisromantic folly has left him. 

"Agnes, your father, General Harrington--your father! impress the wordon your soul, child--your father is now master of everything; while helives, James Harrington is penniless. To-morrow, we shall reign in MabelHarrington's house. You look surprised, you ask me how all this hasbeen brought about. Listen: you remember the vellum book which you stolefor me, out of her escritoire. Well, it contained many secrets, but notthe one I wanted most--not enough to make Mabel Harrington an outcast. Ilived with her in her youth, and knew how much she loved this priestlyHarrington--and, when his mother died, hoped that he would marry her;but she was too wealthy. The General wanted her money, and, in defianceof my anger and my tears, made her his wife. I rebelled, threatened, grew mad, and to save himself, this man, whom I loved better than my ownsoul, persuaded me back to the plantation, and sold me! You turn pale, even you look shocked. For a time, I could have torn him to atoms, likea tiger when food is scarce; for the love that had been so deep andfiery, turned to hate: but wrong does not uproot a passion like mine. Hehad sold me into a double bondage--his child was the slave of anotherman; yet every wish of my soul struggled to his feet again--in that I_was_ a slave. 

"Yes, bend your eyes upon me, and curve your lips with that unspokentaunt; at least, I was not the slave of a boy! Sit still, sit still, Isay! it is no use flinging your tiger glances at me; I have no time forquarreling. While I was his slave, General Harrington's liberality hadno bounds, and, dreading the time when it might cease, I hoarded a largesum of money, more than enough to buy myself a dozen times over. I wasabout to enter into a bargain with my new master for myself and child, when he died, setting us free by his will. 

"I waited, worked, saved, adding gold to gold, till years came betweenme and the man who had owned and sold me; dulling the influence of thatwoman, and turning my passion into a power. 

"At first, I intended to introduce you into this house, and marry you toJames Harrington--thus ensuring a high position to my child, deprivingMabel of a protector, and sweeping away General Harrington's sources ofwealth at the same time. Then, while stripped of the luxuries he lovesso well, my hoarded gold would have paved my way back to his favor; butyou, ever perverse, ever disobedient, became infatuated with this boy, Mabel Harrington's son, and thus defeated a plan that this brain hadbeen weaving for years. You had stolen the book, that was something; butyour perverse fancy rendered new complications necessary, and, to keepyou quiet, I was compelled to cumber myself with that poor girl, to lie, and almost betray myself. 

"Be quiet, and listen. The book was incomplete, but I had studied MabelHarrington's writing well in my youth; she had left blank pages here andthere in her journal; _I_ filled them up; he read them; all would havegone well--she would have been degraded, turned out of doors, but forthe mad generosity of James Harrington. I listened, and saw that all waslost; that the journal would be given up to him, and the falsehood ofthose pages made known. I tore them out, and with them other pages thathave since served a good purpose. Listen, still, for I have no time. To-day, James Harrington came to the house in my absence, and had aconversation with Lina; what it was, I do not know, but it may put us inthis woman's power. Before morning, this battle must be over. "

"Great heavens!" exclaimed Agnes, with a fresh burst of passion, soabsorbed by her own thoughts that she disregarded the purport ofZillah's words. "_His_ child, _his_ sister, and the tool of a slave, --anoble burden this, to carry on through life!"

She arose and walked toward the door, pale as death, and with her teethclenched. 

"Where are you going?" inquired Zillah. 

"Into the cold, where I can breathe. Do not speak. Let me go!"

"But not down stairs--not into her room!"

"I tell you, " answered the girl, hoarse with passion, "I tell you thatit is air, space, a storm, a whirlwind that I want; nothing else willgive back the breath to my lungs!"

She went out fiercely, like the tempest her evil heart evoked. 

For an instant the woman Zillah stood still, looking after her; then sherushed to the door, and called out in a loud whisper, "Agnes, Agnes, come back!"

But the call was too late. Like a black shadow, Agnes Barker had passedout of the house. 

Zillah reëntered the room, looking so white that you would not haveknown the face again. She turned the gas full upon her, and, taking abowl from the cabinet, poured some colored liquid into it. She placedthe bowl upon the floor, and, kneeling by it, began to lave her hands, neck, and face in the liquid, leaving them of a nutty darkness. Then sheopened the window, flung out the dye she had used, and proceeded to puton a front of woolly hair, tangled with grey, over which a Madras'kerchief was carefully folded. One by one she removed her richgarments, and directly stood out in dress, gait, and action, the coloredchambermaid who had for months infested Mabel Harrington's home. 

The woman went out from the room, locking the door after her. She musthave been very pale, though the color upon her face revealed no trace ofthis white terror; but her limbs shook, her knees knocked together, andher wild eyes grew fearful as she paused in the hall, looking up anddown, to see if it was empty, before she moved away. 

The moment Zillah left her chamber door, all became dark in the hall, for she concealed the light in passing, and moved away as her daughterhad done, still and black, like a retreating cloud. 

When Zillah's face was again revealed, it was far down in the coalvaults under the house. She was upon her knees, filling a small ironfurnace with lumps of charcoal, which she dropped one by one on ahandful of embers that glowed in the bottom, as she had found them afterlate use in the laundry. As she dropped the coal, Zillah lookedfearfully about from time to time; and once, when a mouse scamperedacross the floor close by her, she started up with a smothered shriek;but, even in her terror, blew out the lamp, which rattled in thedarkness some moments after, notwithstanding the efforts that she madeto still her shaking hands. 

At last she struck a match, and kindled the light once more, and fell towork again. A minute sufficed to heap the little furnace, and a faintcrackling at the bottom gave proof that the living embers underneathwere taking effect. When satisfied of this, she put out her lamp, tookup the furnace, and, though it was still hot from recent use, placed onehand over the draft, that the fire might not ignite too rapidly, andcrept out of the cellar. Any person awake in the house, might havetraced the dark progress of this woman by a faint crackle, and thesparks that shot now and then up through the black mass of coal, whichwas kindling so fast, that the hand which she still kept upon the draftwas almost blistered. 

She moved along the hall, noiselessly and rapid as death. The sparksthat leaped up from the furnace, gave all the light she had, and morethan she desired; for many a time before had she threaded the samepassage, rehearsing the terrible deed she was enacting. She pauseddirectly in front of Mabel Harrington's boudoir, and laid her hand uponthe latch without a moment's search, as if it had been broad daylight. 

She did not pause in the boudoir, but stole through, shuddering beneaththe pale light of that alabaster lamp, as if it had distilled poisonover her. 

There was no stir in the chamber when she entered it. The low regularbreathing of some one asleep upon the bed which stood entirely inshadow, was all the sound that reached her when she paused to listen. From without she could hear nothing, not even the sharp whisperings ofthe wind; for that day her own hands had calked the windows withsingular care, and besides that, rich curtains muffled them from floorto ceiling. 

Zillah dared not look toward the bed, but with the stealthy movements ofa panther she crept to the fire-place sealed up with a marble slab, andplacing the furnace on the hearth, slunk away from the chamber andthrough the boudoir, closing both doors cautiously behind her. 

After that, she staggered away into the darkness. 

CHAPTER LXXIX

UNDER THE ICE. 

Agnes Barker rushed into the cold night so wrathfully that even theshadow that followed her seemed vital with hate. On they walkedtogether--the girl and this weird shadow--blackening the snow withmomentary darkness as they passed; the one tossing out her arms withunconscious gesticulation, the other mocking her, grotesquely, from thecrusted snow. 

She descended from the eminence upon which the house stood, into thehollow where Lina and Ralph had paused on the first day of theirconfessed love. Over the spot made holy by the feelings of thisbeautiful epoch, she trod her way in mad haste, reckless of the cold, which, but for the fiery strife within, must have pierced her to thevitals; Zillah had aroused her from sleep but half-robed--her dress hadbeen loosened as she lay down, and the sharp wind lifted particles ofsnow with every gust, sweeping them into her bosom and over heruncovered head. Neither shawl nor mantle shielded her, but thus allexposed as she had risen from her sleep, she rushed on, mad as a wildanimal which save in form, for that fatal moment, she was. 

The snow upon the hills, drifted its white carpet out upon the Hudson, and even in the day time a practised eye only could tell where the shoreended, and the water commenced. Agnes had no motive for crossing theriver, and, for a time, she kept along the bank, going nearer and nearerto Ben Benson's boat-house, but perfectly regardless of that or anythingelse. 

As she came out from among the evergreens close by Ben's retreat, alight, gleaming through its window, made her halt and swerve toward theriver. Any vestige of humanity was hateful to her then, and she was gladto plunge into the cold winds which swept down the channel of thestream, that, lacking all other opponents, she might wrestle with them. 

Out she went upon the sheeted river. It was white some distance from theshore, but in the centre lay a space of blue ice, with a surface likepolished steel, and a deep, swift current rushing beneath. This frozenchannel took an unnatural darkness from the gleam of snow on eitherside. Toward this black line the girl made her way, trampling down thesnow like an enraged lioness, and laughing back a defiance to the windsas they drifted cutting particles of snow into her face and through theloose tresses of her hair. 

It was in her face, this keen wind, beating against her, and closing theeyes which rage had already rendered blind. She left the snow and struckout upon the ice. That instant a cloud swept over the moon. Her shadowforsook her then--even her shadow! A step, a hoarse plunge, and apiercing cry rushed up from that break in the ice, a cry that cutthrough the air sharper than an arrow, piercing far and wide through thecold night! Then the moon came out, and revealed a ghastly face low downin the blackness, and two hands grasping the ragged edges of the ice, slipping away--clutching out again, and still again, so fiercely, thatdrops of blood fell after them into the dark current beneath. Still thewhite face struggled upward through masses of wet hair, and the baffledhands groped about fiercer, but more aimlessly, till both were forcedaway beneath the ice, sending back a shriek so sharp and terrible thatit might have aroused the dead!--no, not the dead, for up in thatstately mansion, frowning among the snows a little way off, a human soulhad just departed--nor paused to look back, though the existence, whichwas its own great sin, followed close, till both stood face to facebefore the God they had offended!

But, in the stillness of the night, and in the depths of his honestsleep, Ben Benson heard the cry. He started from his bed, hurriedlydressed himself, and went out in great alarm, listening, as he went, fora renewal of that fierce cry; but, though he reached the ice, and bentover the yawning hole, nothing but the wail of the winds, and the rushof waters underneath, met his ear. Still, as he peered down into thedarkness, a human face weltered up through the waters. Instantly, Benthrew himself upon the ice, plunged his arms downward, and rosestaggering to his feet. In the grasp of his strong hands, he drew ahuman form half-way upon the ice. He had paused for breath, but horrorgave him double strength; and, gathering the pale form in his arms, helaid it upon the ice, parting the long, dark hair reverently with hishands, and leaving the marble face bare in the moonlight. 

"Lord a mercy on us!" he exclaimed, stooping over the cold form. "It'sthe young governess, dead as a stone! How on arth did she get here? Nota purpose, I hope to mercy; it wasn't a purpose. Poor critter, if ithadn't a been that the ice broke just here in the eddy, her poor bodywould a been miles down stream 'fore now. Instead of that, she wassucked under, and has been a whirling and a whirling the Lord of heavenonly knows how long--how long--Ben Benson, be you crazy? Wasn't it herscream as woke you up? Ma' be there's a spark of life yet, and you atalking over her here. Go home, you old heathen; go home at 'onst. Pooryoung critter, I didn't like you over much, but now I'd give ten yearsof my old life to be sarten there was a drop of warm blood in thislittle heart!"

Ben knelt over the governess as he muttered those feeling words, andlaid his great kind hand over the heart, but the touch made even hisstrong nerves recoil. 

"It ain't a beatin'--it doesn't stir--she seems to be a freezing nowunder my hand. But, I'll try. God have mercy on the poor thing! I'lltry. "

Ben took the body in his arms, and carried it to the boat-house; butwith all his earnestness and strength, he had no power to give backlife, where it had been so rudely quenched. Pure or not, the blood inthose veins was frozen to ice, and though Ben heaped up wood on hishearth till the flames roared up the wide-throated chimney, there wasnot heat enough to thaw a single drop. At last, Ben gave up his ownexertions, and laid the dead girl reverently on his own couch; kneelingmeekly by her side, and then he began repeating the Lord's Prayer overher again and again: for, when the boatman was in great trouble healways went back, like a little child, to the prayer learned at hismother's knee. 

CHAPTER LXXX. 

WHO WAS LINA?

The sound of sleigh-bells stopping suddenly and a sharp knock at his owndoor, aroused Ben from his mournful prayers. He got up and turned thelatch. To his astonishment, it was broad daylight. The persons who hadaroused him were James and Ralph Harrington. 

"Ben, " said Ralph, stepping eagerly forward, "tell us--repeat to Jameswhat you refused to tell Lina. On your life, on your honor, dear oldBen: tell him whose child she is. "

"All that you know about her. I am sure there is something you canexplain. If you ever loved her or care for me, speak out now. You saidthat she had gone off because you refused to tell her something. "

Ben had been praying in the presence of death, and there were both powerand pathos in his voice as he clasped those rough hands and said:

"As the great God aloft is his witness! Ralph Harrington, Ben Bensonspoke nothing but the truth when he said that ere. "

"But you will tell us, for her dear sake, you will tell us. "

"Yes, Master Ralph I will. Jist ask what you want to know, and I'll tellit. "

"Who was she, Ben? I've asked my mother often, but she always answered, that the child, while a mere infant, was seen one day wandering on thebanks of the river, quite alone. At night, she came up to the house, andwas found asleep on the door-step--from that day to this, she has neverbeen inquired after, but dropped into the family naturally as apet-bird. I loved her the better for having no friends--for belongingentirely to us. "

Ben drew the back of one hand across his eyes and dropped into hislounging attitude again. 

"But, yet, she had one friend, Mister Ralph. "

"And, who was that?"

"Ben Benson--as carried her up to that ere identical door-step, and laidher down like the babes in the woods--a knowing in his heart all thetime, that Mrs. Harrington would take her in the minute she sot her eyeson her purty face. "

"You know who she was, then?"

"I ought to, " answered Ben, "for she was my own sister's child. "

"Your sister's child!"

"You wouldn't a belaved it; for the mother of that gal was like a waterlily, fresh from the pond, when I run away from hum and went to sea. "

"Well, " said Ralph, breathless. 

"The old man died a little while after I ran off, and so the poor littlething was left alone, to fight her way through the world. She had morelarning than ever could be driv into my brain, and went into a richman's family to larn his children their letters. There was a youngfeller in that house, as was likewise given to larning, a sickly, palechap, just a going into consumption. This chap loved the orphan gal, andas her hard-hearted brother had deserted the helm, he stepped in andtook the craft amost without a summons. "

"They got married somewhere down in York, and in less 'en three monthsarter, the poor, young feller died--neither on 'em had plucked upcourage enough to tell the proud, old father, and the young man was tookoff so suddenly at last, that he hadn't no chance. "

"Lizzy was obliged to speak out arter this, but the certificate wasamongst his things, and the old folks pretended that it never could befound. She didn't know where to find the minister as married 'em, andso her husband's own father turned her out of doors. When I came ashoretwo years arter, no one could tell me where she had gone; but a fewmonths arter I cast anchor in this ere land-craft, my poor sister camehere one night, leading a toddling little girl by the hand. That gal wasLina. My sister's face was white as foam, when she came in. I asked herabout the child, and she told me what I have been a telling you. In thenight she went away. I had fell asleep, leaning against the wall, anddidn't know she was agoing. The baby was left behind on the husk-bed. 

"The next thing, my sister wandered back to the lonesome place, whereshe and her baby had lived together, and without telling any one thatshe was sick, lay down and died. 

"Ben Benson sat in his cabin all that day, and the little child went outand in like a lonesome bird, now a picking posies from the bank and agincrying by the cabin door. That miserable old feller never had but oneguardian spirit on arth, and that ere night he thought of her, while thebaby lay hived up in his bosom. So he took the child up as if it hadbeen a little helpless lamb, and laid it down where that ere angel couldfind it. "

"And this was Lina!" exclaimed Ralph, with tears in his eyes. "I thankyou, Ben. "

"You know this--you are certain of her identity?" said James Harrington. 

"I am sartin that she's my own sister's darter, and can swear to itafore God and man, " was Ben's solemn reply. "But where is the gal? Isshe found--will she come back--does she know as this ere old chap is heruncle?"

"She knows nothing, " said Ralph, shaking the hand which Ben extendedwhile propounding these eager questions. "She is yonder in the sleigh, Ben--no, not yet; she is ill, and the least excitement may do harm. Goand find us an entrance to the house; we have tried the doors, but noone seems astir--my fa--the General, is not home, I suppose"----

"No, " answered Ben, believing what he said; "I haven't seen the Generalabout these four days. "

"And my mother?" inquired Ralph. 

"She's sartain to be there, poor lady, " answered Ben, shaking his headsorrowfully. 

"Yes, yes, she's pining about Lina, but that will soon be over--blessthe dear girl--on second thought, if my mother is ill, I had better gomyself; some of the servants must be up by this time. See, there she is, Ben, in the sleigh, muffled up in furs, poor little birdie. Go speak toher, but remember she is feeble as a babe, so be very quiet. "

"You can trust old Ben Benson for that ere, " cried the boatman, lookingeagerly towards the sleigh; but with the first glance great tears camechasing each other down his cheeks, and all unconsciously he held outboth arms, shouting, "my own, own little gal!"

There was a struggle in the sleigh, and with low murmurs of delight, Lina held forth her hand. 

"Remember and keep cool, " said Ralph; then turning towards James, hesaid, "drive to the door, I will soon rouse the household. "

With these words he strode towards the house, eager to carry gladtidings to his mother. 

CHAPTER LXXXI. 

THE MANIAC. 

All night long the slave woman crouched down in the middle of her bed, with the blankets drawn over her like a tent, and her eyes looking outinto the darkness, waiting for the morning, and yet shrinking withterror whenever a gleam of light appeared. At last, when the morningbroke, grey and cold, she crept forth in her clothes--as she had beenall night--and stood for a time listening as if she expected someunusual sound. But all was still, no servant was yet abroad, and she satdown upon the bed, waiting with a dull heavy gleam of the eye that hadsomething awful in it. At last she was aroused by a loud ring at thehall door, which brought a smothered scream to her lips; but she aroseand went down stairs, opening the door with a sort of mechanicalcomposure. Ralph Harrington stood upon the threshold, and a little wayoff winding up the circular carriage sweep was a sleigh, in which shediscovered James Harrington and the pale face of Lina. The sight madeher tremble in every limb, and her eyes were terrible to look upon. 

"Is my mother up yet?" said Ralph, without regarding the woman, who didnot answer, for her teeth chattered when she made the attempt. 

"Well, then we must arouse her; of course the fires are kept up suchnights as this; take Miss French to the breakfast-room while I inquirefor Mrs. Harrington. "

But Lina would not be restrained: joy at the sight of that dear old homegave her temporary strength; she ran up the steps, passing James andRalph, in the speed of her love. 

"No, no, I _cannot_ wait. Let me go to her room. I will awake her as ofold with my kisses--they will not frighten her. "

Before the sentence was finished, Lina had reached the door of Mabel'sboudoir, and throwing it open, flew into the bed-room. A close stiflingvapor enclouded her as she entered, but in the ardor of her love sherushed through it, flung back the bed-curtains, and throwing her armsover the sleeper there cried out----

"Mamma, awake! it is Lina--your own Lina come back to live at home, mamma--mamma"--

The last word died away in an exclamation of horror, for the face shetouched was cold as marble, and she fell forward struggling for breath. 

Ralph had followed her to the door, and lingered there, waiting for hismother to summon him, but there was something in the atmosphere whichcrept through into the hall that awoke his apprehension, this wasincreased by Lina's sudden silence. 

With a quickened beat of the heart he went in, but a stifling hazefilled the room, which was so dark that he could only see Lina, lyingmotionless across the bed. He rushed to the window and tore back thecurtains, filling the room with a dull luminous fog, through which hesaw Lina, pale as marble, and gasping for breath, but with her eyes wideopen, and fixed on the face of his father. 

"My God--oh, my God! what is this?" he cried, staggering forward. 

"It is your father, Ralph, cold as death. "

Ralph uttered a cry so sharp and piercing that it reached James andBenson, who came in alarm from the breakfast-room--nay, it penetratedfarther, and aroused Mabel from her comfortless sleep in the chamberabove. She arose with a thrill of unaccountable awe, and glided down thestairs, passing the mulatto chambermaid, who stood motionless as abronze statue outside the door. As the woman saw her she gave a cry andher eyes dilated with unspeakable horror; slowly, as if she had beenforced into motion by some irresistible power, she turned and followedafter Mabel, step by step, till both stood in the room of death. Theeyes of those two women fell on the dead body of General Harrington atthe same moment; Mabel burst into tears. The mulatto seemed turning tostone--she did not breathe, she did not move, but stood with her lipsapart, helpless, speechless, stricken with a terrible horror. 

James Harrington saw the furnace standing on the hearth with a handfulof white ashes at the bottom. 

"It is the fumes of charcoal--he has been smothered--who brought thishere?" he exclaimed, looking at the woman. 

If he expected to see that ashen grey upon her cheek, which is thenearest approach to pallor that her race can know, he was disappointed. She neither changed color nor moved, but a gleam of horribleintelligence came into her eyes, and as her lips closed, a faint quiverstirred them. 

She did not heed his question, but turned in silence and went out. 

Half an hour after, when the first great shock was over, and JamesHarrington sent to have the movements of this woman watched, she wasnowhere to be found. The servants had seen a handsome and richly dressedlady pass through the front door, and walk swiftly toward the highway. The chambermaid could not have passed without being observed. Yet nohuman being ever saw her afterward. 

 * * * * *

The day on which General Harrington was buried, the funeral processionpassed by the house in which Lina had lived during her painful sojournin the city. As it went by, a woman rushed to and fro in the house, uttering the most piteous cries, and tearing at everything within herreach. From that little fairy-like conservatory she had torn down theblossoming vines, and broken the plants, crowning herself fantasticallywith the trailing garlands, and trampling the blossoms beneath her feetwith bursts of wild laughter, alternated with groans, that seemed torend her heart asunder. As the funeral cortége went by, these groans andshrieks of laughter aroused the neighborhood. Some members of the policeentered, and took the maniac away. 

 * * * * *

It was a year after General Harrington's death, a steamer was passingthrough a channel of the East River, leaving Blackwell's Island on theleft. Sitting upon the deck was a bridal party: that morning had madeLina, Ralph Harrington's wife. James Harrington had given her away, having first richly endowed the young couple, and Mabel made one of thewedding party. 

Upon the shore near the end of Blackwell's Island, stands that mostpainful appendage to a lunatic asylum, the mad-house; looming over thewater like a huge menagerie, in which wild animals are kept. Through theiron lattices, which gird in the granite walls of this building, you mayat any time see the maniacs roaming to and fro, sometimes in sullensilence, sometimes shrieking out their fantasies or their rage to thewinds as they whistle by, and the waters that flow on forever and ever, unconscious of the miserable secrets given to their keeping. 

As the boat containing the bridal party swept by the mad-house abeautiful but most fiendish face looked out between these bars; aclenched hand was thrust through, and a storm of terrible curses hailedafter Mabel and her newly married children. But the boat swept calmlyby, leaving them behind. Mabel saw the clenched hand, but the cursesrushed by her in one confused wail, which touched her only with gentlecompassion; for she little thought that Zillah, the woman who, inseeking her life, had murdered her husband, was hurling these fiendishanathemas after her. 

So in her happiness, for Mabel was happy then--she turned away from themad-house, touched with momentary gloom and, taking James Harrington'sarm moved to the other side of the boat, and leaning upon him watchedthe sun go down. Thus, with the rich twilight falling softly aroundthem, these two noble beings drifted into their new life. 

THE END. 

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