MAY BROOKE

by

MRS. ANNA H. DORSEY

P. J. KENEDY & SONS

NEW YORK AND PHILADELPHIA

Copyright, 1888, BY

P. J. KENEDY. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER

 I. --UNCLE STILLINGHAST II. --MAY BROOKE III. --THE MORNING ERRAND IV. --AUNT MABEL V. --PAST AND PRESENT VI. --HELEN VII. --THINGS OF TIME AND ETERNITY VIII. --TROUBLED WATERS IX. --TRIALS X. --THE WARNING XI. --THE MIDNIGHT MESSENGER XII. --REPENTANCE XIII. --THE NEW WILL XIV. --THE SECRET SIN XV. --THE DISCOVERY XVI. --THE DEATH DREAM XVII. --REMORSE XVIII. --REPENTANCE XIX. --CONCLUSION

CONSCIENCE;

OR, THE TRIALS OF MAY BROOKE. 

CHAPTER I. 

UNCLE STILLINGHAST. 

"Do you think they will be here to-night, sir?"

"Don't know, and don't care. "

"The road is very bad, "--after a pause, "that skirts the Hazelproperty. "

"Well, what then; what then, little May?"

"The carriage might be overturned, sir; or, the horses might shy alittle to the left, and go over the precipice into the creek. "

"Is that all?"

"Is it not dreadful to think of, sir?"

"Well, I don't know; I should be sorry to lose the horses--"

"Oh, sir! and my cousin! Did you forget her?"

"I _care_ nothing about her. I suppose my forefathers must havecommitted some crime for which I am to suffer, by being made, willy-nilly, the guardian of two silly, mawkish girls. "

"But, sir, you have been very kind to me, and it shall be the endeavorof my life to prove my gratitude. "

"Very fine, without being in the least consoling! I'd as lief have twoAfrican monkeys under my care--don't laugh--it exasperates, and makesme feel like doing as I should do, if I had the cursed animals--"

"How is that, sir?"

"Beat you. I hate womankind. Most of all do I hate them in theirtransition stages. They are like sponges, and absorb every particle ofevil that the devil sprinkles in the air, until they learn to be younghypocrites--triflers--false--heartless. "

"Oh, dear uncle! has such been your experience? Have you ever met withsuch women?"

"Have I ever met with such women, you holy innocent? I have never metwith any other. Now, be still. "

"Oh! Uncle Stillinghast--"

"What!"

"I pity you, sir; indeed, I pity you. Something very dreadful must intimes past have embittered you--"

"You are a fool, little May. Don't interrupt me again at your peril. "

"No, sir. "

And so there was a dead silence, except when the rain and sleet lashedthe window-panes, or a lump of coal crumbled into a thousand glowingfragments, and opened a glowing abyss in the grate; or the cat uncurledherself on the rug, and purred, while she fixed her great winking eyeson the blaze. The two persons who occupied the room were an old manand a young maiden. He was stern, and sour-looking, as he sat in hishigh-back leather chair, with a pile of ledgers on the table beforehim, --the pages of which he examined with the most incomparablepatience. A snuff-colored wig sat awry on his head, and asnuff-colored coat, ornamented with large horn buttons, droopedungracefully from his high, stooping shoulders. His neckcloth waswhite, but twisted, soiled, and tied carelessly around his thin, sinewythroat. His legs were cased in gray lamb's-wool stockings, over whichhis small-clothes were fastened at the knees with small silver buckles. His face was not originally cast in such a repulsive mould, butcommerce with the world, and a succession of stinging disappointmentsin his early manhood, had woven an ugly mask over it, from behind whichglimpses of his former self, on rare occasions, shone out. Such wasMark Stillinghast at the opening of our story: old, cynical, and rich, but poor in friendship, and without any definite ideas of religion, except, that if such a thing really existed, it was a _terraincognita_, towards which men rather stumbled than ran. 

Opposite to him, on a low crimson chair, as antique in its pattern asthe owner of the mansion, sat a maiden, who might have passed herseventeenth summer. She was not beautiful, and yet her face had apeculiar charm, which appealed directly to the softer and kindlieremotions of the heart. Her eyes, large, gray and beautifully fringedwith long, black lashes, reminded one of calm mountain lakes, intowhose very depths the light of sun and stars shine down, until theybeam with tender sweetness, and inward repose. There was a glad, happylook in her face, which came not from the fitful, feverish glow ofearth, but, like rays from an inner sanctuary, the glorious realitiesof faith, hope, and love, which possessed her soul, diffused theirmysterious influence over her countenance. Thick braids of soft, brownhair, were braided over her round, childlike forehead: and her dress ofsome dark, rich color, was in admirable harmony with her peculiarstyle. Her proportions were small and symmetrical, and it waswonderful to see the serious look of dignity with which she sat in thatold crimson chair, knitting away on a comfort, as fast as her littlewhite fingers could shuffle the needles. For what purpose could such afragile small creature have been created? She looked as if it wouldnot be amiss to put her under a glass-case, or exhibit her as aspecimen of wax-work; or hire her out, at so much per night, tofashionable parties, to play "_fairy_" in the Tableaux. But the windhowled; the leafless branches of the old trees without were crushed up, shivering and creaking against the house; the frozen snow beat a wild_reville_ on the windows, and May's face grew very sad and thoughtful. She dropped her knitting, and with lips apart listened intently. 

"Thank God! They are come. I am sure I hear carriage-wheels, uncle!"she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. 

"Of course; I knew they would come. There was to be no such good luckas their _not_ coming, " said Mr. Stillinghast, looking annoyed. "Onesister ran off--married a papist--died, and left _you_ on my hands. Iwas about sending you off again, when news came that your father haddied on his voyage home from Canton, and been buried in the deep: sohere you stayed. Brother--spendthrift, shiftless, improvident--marriesa West Indian papist; turns one; dies with his wife, or, at least, soonafter her leaving another ne'er-do-weel on my hands. I wish you'd allgone to purgatory together. To be shut up in my old days with two wildpapists is abominable!" muttered the old man, slamming the ledgerstogether, until every thing on the table danced. He pushed back hischair, and in another moment the door opened, and a tall, slender, beautiful girl entered, clad in deep mourning, with a wealth of goldencurls rolling over her transparently fair cheeks. She came with agraceful, but timid air, towards Mr. Stillinghast; and holding out herhand, said in a low, sweet tone, "My uncle?"

"Yes, I have the misfortune to be your uncle; how do you do?"

"I am well, sir, I thank you, " she replied, whilst she cast down hereyes to conceal the tears which suffused them. 

"I won't pretend, " he said, at last, "to say you are welcome, or that Iam glad to see you, because I should lie; but you are here now, and Ican't help it, neither can you, I suppose; therefore, settle yourselfas quickly as possible in your new way of living. _She_ will show youwhat is necessary, and both of you keep as much out of my way aspossible. " He then took his candlestick, lighted his candle, andretired, leaving the poor girl standing with a frightened, heart-brokenlook, in the middle of the floor. For a moment she looked after him;then a sharp cry burst from her lips, and she turned to rush out intothe wintry storm, when she suddenly felt herself enfolded in some one'sarms, who led her to the warmest corner of the sofa, untied her bonnet, folded back the dishevelled curls, and kissed the tears away from hercold, white cheeks. It was May, whose heart had been gushing over withtenderness and sympathy, who had longed to throw her arms around her, and, welcome her home the moment she entered the house, but who darednot interfere with her uncle's peculiar ways, or move until he led. 

"Do not mind him, dear Helen; it is his ways: he seems rough and stern, but in reality he is kind and good, dear, " she exclaimed. 

"You are very kind; but, oh, I did not expect such a reception as this. I hoped for something very, very different. I cannot stay here--itwould kill me, " she sobbed, struggling to disengage her hand fromMary's. 

"Yes you will, dear, " pleaded May. "Uncle Stillinghast is like our oldclock--it never strikes the hour true, yet the hands are always rightto a second. So do try, and not to mind. "

"Who are you?"

"I?" asked May, looking with a smile of astonishment at her. "I amyour cousin, May Brooke; an orphan like yourself, dear, to whom ouruncle has given house and home. "

"Are you happy here?"

"Very happy. I have things to contend with sometimes which are notaltogether agreeable, but I trip along over them just as I do overmuddy places in the street, for fear, you know, of soiling my robe, ifI floundered in them!" said May, laughing. Helen did not understandthe hidden and beautiful meaning couched under May's expressions; shehad heard but little of her baptismal robe since the days of her earlychildhood, and had almost forgotten that she was "to carry it unspottedto the judgment-seat of Christ. "

"I am glad you are here--such a nice, soft-voiced little one, " saidHelen, passing her long, white hand over May's head. 

"I am glad, too; so come with me, and take something warm. Your supperis on the kitchen hearth. Come, " said May, rising. 

"Where--to the kitchen? Do you eat in the kitchen?"

"I lunch there sometimes; it is a very nice one. "

"Excuse me; I do not wish any thing. "

"But a cup of hot tea, and some nice toast, after your fatiguing, wetjourney, " argued May. 

"Nothing, I thank you, " was the haughty reply. 

"Perhaps you wish to retire?"

"Yes! Oh, that I could go to sleep, and never wake again, " she cried, bursting into tears. 

"You will feel better to-morrow, dear, " said May, gently, "and then itwill soothe you to reflect that each trial has its heavenly mission;and the thorns which pierce us here give birth to flowers in heaven, which angels weave into the crown for which we contend!"

"I am not a saint!" was the curt reply. 

"But you are a Catholic?" asked May, chilled by her cold manner. 

"Yes, " she replied, languidly, "but I am too ill to talk. "

Refusing all aid, after they got into their chamber, Helen disrobedherself; and while May's earnest soul was pouring out at the foot ofthe cross its adoration and homage, she threw herself on her knees, leaned her head on her arm, and yielded to a perfect storm of grief andfury; which, although unacknowledged, raged none the less, while herburning tears, unsanctified by humility, or resignation, embittered theselfish heart which they should have sweetened and refreshed. 

CHAPTER II. 

MAY BROOKE. 

May slept but little that night. The low sobs and shivering sighs ofHelen, disturbed and troubled her, and she longed to go to her, andwhisper in her ear all those arguments and hopeful promises which she_felt_ would have consoled her under the same circumstances; but it wasa wild, defiant kind of grief, which she thought had better exhaustitself, so she lay quite still until towards dawn, when it ceased, andthe sound of low regular breathing, assured her that she had fallenasleep. She rose up gently, wrapped her wadded gown about her, loweredthe blinds, and closed the shutters, that the light might not disturbHelen; then laid an additional blanket over her, for it was bittercold, and placed the candle which she had lighted behind an old-timedChinese screen, that formed a sort of a niche in a corner of the room, which she, in her pious thoughtfulness, had converted into an oratory. A small round table, covered with white drapery, supported a statue ofthe Immaculate Mother, a porcelain shelf for holy water and herprayer-book. Over it hung an old and rare crucifix of carved ivory, stained with color which time had softened to the hues of life, whilethe features wore that mingled look of divine dignity and human woewhich but few artists, in their delineations of the "thorn-crownedhead, " can successfully depict. It had been brought from Spain manyyears before by her father, with a cabinet picture of Mater Dolorosa, which now hung over it. Both were invaluable, not only on account oftheir artistic excellence and age, but as mementos of her father, andincentives to devotion. Thither she now went to offer the first fruitsof the day to heaven in mingled thanksgiving and prayer. Almost numbedwith the intense cold, she felt inclined to abridge her devotions, butshe remembered the cold, dreary journey of the holy family fromNazareth to Bethlehem--the ruggedness of the road, and the bitter windswhich swept through the mountain defiles around them--then she lingeredin the poor stable, and knelt with the shepherds beside the mangerwhere Jesus Christ in the humility of his sacred humanity reposed. Shepictured to herself the Virgin Mother in the joyful mystery of hermaternity, bending over him with a rapture too sublime for words; andSt. Joseph--wonderfully dignified as the guardian of divinity, and ofher whom the most high had honored, leaning on his staff near them. "Shall _I_ dare complain?" thought May, while these blessed images cameinto her heart warming it with generous love. "No sweet and divineLord, let all human ills, discomforts, repinings, and love of selfvanish before these sweet contemplations. With thee, in Bethlehem, poverty and sorrow grow light; and the weariness of the rough ways oflife no more dismay. Let me follow with thee, sweet mother, after hisfootsteps, until Calvary is crowned by a sacrifice and victim so divinethat angels, men, and earth wonder; let me, with thee, linger by hiscross, follow him to his sepulture, and rejoice with thee in hisresurrection. " Do not let us suppose that May, in the overflowing ofher devout soul, forgot others, and thought only of herself; oh, no!that charity, without which, all good works are as "sounding brass, "animated her faith; as tenderly and lovingly she plead at the mercyseat for her stern old guardian; and although she knew that he scornedall religion, and would have given her rough jibes and scoffs for hercharity, she prayed none the less for his salvation; and now she soughtHeaven to strengthen and console the wounded and bereaved stranger whohad come amongst them. By the time she left her oratory, she had laidby a store of strength and happiness, more than sufficient for thetrials of the day. Yet May was not faultless. She had a quickness andsharpness of temper, which very often tempted her to the indulgence ofmalice and uncharitableness; and a proud spirit, which could scarcelybrook injustice. But these natural defects were in a measurecounterbalanced by a high and lofty sense of responsibility to AlmightyGod--a feeling of compassion and forgiveness for the frailties andinfirmities of others, and a generous and discriminating considerationfor the errors of all. 

When Mr. Stillinghast came down that morning, everything was bright andcomfortable in the sitting-room. A clear fire burned in the grate; thetoast and coffee sent up an inviting odor; and the table was spreadwith the whitest of linen, on which the cups and saucers were neatlyarranged. The morning paper was drying on a chair by the fire, andover all, flickered the glorious sunshine, as it gushed like a goldenflood through the clustering geraniums in the window. 

"Good morning, sir!" said May, blithely, as she came in from thekitchen with a covered plate in her hand. 

"Good morning, " he growled; "give me my breakfast. "

"I thought you'd like a relish for your breakfast, sir, and I broiled afew slices of beef; see how very nice it is, " said May, uncovering theplate, and placing it before him. 

"Humph! well, don't do it again. I cannot afford such extravagance; Imust curtail my expenses. 'Gad! if I should have another beggar thrownon my hands, we must starve, " he said, bitterly. 

May did not relish this speech at all; up rose the demon, _pride_, inher soul, instigating her to a sharp retort, and vindictive anger; butshe thought of Bethlehem, and grew calm. 

"I hope not, sir, " she said, gently. "You have cast bread on thewaters; after many days it will return unto you--perhaps in an hour, and at a time, dear uncle, when it will be much needed. "

"Fudge, fudge!" he said, testily; "_I--I_ cast bread on the waters, doI? Well, I am doing what is equally as foolish--it _is_ truly likethrowing bread into a _fish-pond_; but where's what's her name?"

"She slept poorly last night, and I would not awaken her this morning, "said May, diverted in spite of herself. 

"How do you know she didn't sleep, pray? did she tell you so?"

"No, sir; I heard her weeping all night, and, indeed, sir, I hopeyou'll speak kindly to Helen when you come in this evening, because shefeels so very sorrowful on account of her recent losses, and--and--"

"And what, Miss Pert?"

"Her dependence, sir!" said May, bravely. 

"She's no more dependent than you are. "

"No, sir; but--but then I am happy somehow. It is the state of lifeAlmighty God has chosen for me, and I should be very ungrateful to himand you if I repined and grumbled, " said May, cheerfully. 

"If He chose it for you, I suppose he chose it for her too; for _Ididn't_. At any rate, don't waste any more candles or coal sitting upto watch people crying, and tell what's-her-name to rise when you do;she's no better than you are; and let her take her share of the dutiesof the house to-morrow, " said Mr. Stillinghast, surlily. 

"Helen will soon feel at home, sir, no doubt; only do--do, dear uncle, try and speak kindly to her for a few days, on account of her lonelysituation. "

"Fudge! eat your breakfast. Hold your plate here for some of thisbroiled beef, and eat it to prevent its being wasted. "

"Thank you, sir, " said May, laughing, as he laid a large slice on herplate, which, however she did not touch, but put it aside for Helen;then observing that Mr. Stillinghast had finished his breakfast, shewheeled his chair nearer the fire, handed him his pipe, and thenewspaper, and ran upstairs, to see if Helen was awake. But she stillslept, and looked so innocently beautiful, that May paused a fewmoments by her pillow, to gaze at her. "She is like the descriptionswhich the old writers give us of the Blessed Virgin, " thought May;"that high, beautifully chiseled nose; those waves of golden hair;those calm finely cut lips, that high, snowy brow, and those long, shadowy eyelashes, lying so softly on her fair cheeks, oh, howbeautiful! It seems almost like a vision, only--only I _know_ thatthis is a poor frail child of earth; but, oh! immaculate Mother, cherish, guard, and guide her, that her spirit may be conformed tothine. "

"I suppose, " said Mr. Stillinghast, when May came down, "that you'll gotrotting presently through the snow and ice to church. "

"No, sir; I fear I cannot go this morning, " said May. 

"Cannot go? well, really! I wonder if an earthquake will swallow mebefore I get to the wharf today, " said Mr. Stillinghast, drawing on hisboots. 

"I trust not, sir; I'd be happier to go, but Helen is a stranger, andshe might awake when I am gone, and want something. To-morrow we willgo together. "

"So, there's to be a regular popish league in my house, under my verynose, " he growled. 

"Which will do you no evil, dear uncle, in soul, body, or estate; butyou had better wrap this comfort around your throat; I finishedknitting it last night for you, " said May, in her quiet, cheerful way. 

"For me, eh? It is very nice and soft--so--that does very well, " saidMr. Stillinghast, while one of those rare gleams, like sunshine, shotover his countenance. 

"I shall be very happy all day, sir, " said May, gathering up the cupsand saucers. 

"Why?"

"Because, sir, I thought--you might--"

"Throw it at your head, or in the fire, eh? I shall do neither; Ishall wear it. I have not forgot that confounded attack of quinsy Ihad last winter, nor the doctor's bill that followed it, and which wasworse on me than the choking I got, " said Mr. Stillinghast, while theold, grim look settled on his face again. He went away, down to hiswarehouse on the wharf, to grip and wrestle with _gain_, and barteraway the last remnants of his best and holiest instincts, little bylittle; exchanging hopes of heaven for perishable things, and crushingdown the angel _conscience_, who would have led him safely to eternallife, for the accumulated and unholy burthen of Mammon. 

And May, singing cheerily, cleaned, and swept and rubbed, and polished, and touched up things a little here and there, until the room wasarranged with exquisite taste and neatness; then took her work-basket, in which lay a variety of little infant's socks, and fine fleecyunder-garments, knit of zephyr worsted, which looked so pure and softthat even she touched them daintily, as she lifted them out to find herneedles, and sat down by the fire. "Now for a _nubae_, " she said, throwing on stitch after stitch; "ladies who frequent theatres andballs find them indispensable: _this_ shall be the handsomest one ofthe season--worth, at least four dollars. "

CHAPTER III. 

THE MORNING ERRAND. 

After the slender ivory needles had traversed the fleecy mesh backwardsand forwards some three or four times, May suddenly bethought herselfof Helen, and laying her work carefully down in her basket, she ranupstairs to see if she was awake. Turning the knob of the door softly, she entered with a noiseless step, and went towards the bed; but a low, merry laugh, and a "good morning, " assured her that her kind cautionhad all been needless. 

"Dear Helen, how are you to-day?"

"Very well, thank you, little lady, how do you do, and what time is it?"

"Half-past nine. You need your breakfast, I am sure. Shall I fetch itto you?"

"Just tell me, first, have you a fire downstairs?"

"A very nice one!"

"And we can't have one here?"

"Decidedly--no. "

"Decidedly, then, I shall accompany you downstairs, if that horrid oldman is gone. Oh, I never was so terrified in my life; I thought he'dbeat me last night. Is he gone?"

"Uncle Stillinghast has been gone an hour or more, " replied May, gravely. 

"Do tell me, May, does he always jump and snarl so at folk as he did atme?" inquired Helen; seriously. 

"I see that I must initiate you, dear Helen, in the mysteries of ourdomicile, " said May, pleasantly. "I must be plain with you, and hopeyou will not feel wounded at my speech. Our uncle is very eccentric, and says a great many sharp, disagreeable things; and his manners, generally, do not invite affection. But, on the other hand, I do notthink his health is quite sound, and I have heard that in his earlylife he met with some terrible disappointments, which have doubtlesssoured him. He knows nothing of the consolations of religion, or ofthose divine hopes which would sweeten the bitter fountains of hisheart, like the leaves which the prophet threw into Marah's wave. Hiscommerce is altogether with and of the world, and he spares no time forsuperfluous feelings: but notwithstanding all this there is, _I amsure_, a warm, bright spot in his heart, or he never would have takenyou and me from the cold charities of the world, to shelter and carefor us. Now, dear, you _must_ endeavor to fall in with his humor. "

"And if I should happen to please him?" inquired Helen, sweeping backthe golden curls from her forehead and cheeks. 

"You will be happy in the consciousness of duties well done, " repliedMay, looking with her full, earnest eyes, in Helen's face. "It is abad thing, dear, to stir up bitterness and strife in a soul which isnot moored in the faith and love of God; as it is a good work to keepit, as far as we can, from giving further offence to heaven byprovoking its evil instincts, and inciting it, as it were, to freshrebellions. But I am sure, dear Helen, you will endeavor to do right. "

"Yes, " said Helen, slowly, "it will be the best policy; but, MayBrooke, I feel as if I am in a panther's den, or, better still, it'slike Beauty and the Beast, only, instead of an enchanted lover, I havean excessively cross and impracticable old uncle to be amiable to. Does he give you enough to eat?"

"Have I a starved look?" asked May, laughing. 

"No; I confess you look in tolerably good plight. Do you ever seecompany?"

"Not often. My uncle's habits are those of a recluse. When he comeshome from the bustle of the city, it would be a great annoyance to havecompany around him: in _fact_, I do not care for it, and, I dare say, we shall get on merrily without it. "

"I dare say I shall die. Have you a piano here?"

May laughed outright, and answered in the negative. 

"Well, how in the name of wonder do you manage to get on?" asked Helen, folding her hands together, and looking puzzled. 

"Just as you will have to, by and by, " she replied; "but come, pin yourcollar on, and come down to breakfast. "

"I must say my prayers first, " said Helen, dropping down suddenly onher knees, and carelessly blessing herself, while she hurried over someshort devotion, crossed herself, and got up, saying:--

"But you keep servants, don't you?"

"I have heretofore attended to the domestic affairs of the house, "replied May, shocked by her cousin's levity. 

"Oh, heavens! I shall lose my identity! I shall grow coarse and fat;my hands will become knobby and red; oh, dear! but perhaps you will notexpect me to assist you?"

"And why?" asked May, while the indignant blood flushed her cheeks, andher impulse to say something sharp and mortifying to the youngworldling's pride, was strong within her; but she thought of the mildand lowly Virgin, and the humility of her DIVINE SON, and added, in aquiet tone, "Uncle Stillinghast will certainly expect you to makeyourself useful. "

"And if I don't?"

"I fear you will rue it. "

"Well, this looks more civilized!" said Helen, after they went down. "What nice antique furniture! how delightful those geraniums are; andhow charming the fire looks and feels!"

"Here is your breakfast, dear Helen; eat it while it is warm, " saidMay, coming in with a small tray, which she arranged on a stand behindher. 

"Thank you, dear little lady; really this coffee is delicious, and thetoast is very nice, " said Helen, eating her breakfast with great _goût_. 

"I am glad you relish it; and now that you are comfortably fixed, ifyou will excuse me, I will run out for an hour or so; I have somelittle matters to attend to down street. You will find a small bambootub in the next room, when you finish eating, in which you can wash upyour cup and saucer, and plate. "

"Yes, dame Trot, I will endeavor to do so!" said Helen, with a drollgrimace. 

"The tea-towel is folded up on the first shelf in that closet near you;so, good morning, " said May, laughing, as she took up her work-basket, and went upstairs to get her bonnet and wrappings, and make otherarrangements; then drawing on her walking-boots, and twisting a _nubae_around her throat, she went out, with a bundle in her hand, and walkedwith a brisk pace down the street. She soon approached a gothicchurch--a church of the Liguorian Missions, and at the distance of halfa square, heard the solemn and heavenly appeals of the organ, rollingin soft aerial billows past her. She quickened her steps, and pushinggently against the massive door, went in. A solemn mass was beingoffered, and a requiem chanted, for the repose of the soul of a memberof the arch-confraternity of the Immaculate Heart of MARY. "I thankthee, dear Jesus, for giving me this opportunity to adore thee, "whispered May, kneeling in the crowd, "for all thy tender mercies, thisis the most touching and consoling to me; when thou dost come, clad inthe solemn and touching robes of propitiation, to offer THYSELF for theeternal repose of the souls of thy departed children. "

The crowd increasing, and finding it impossible to penetrate throughthe masses in the aisle, she quietly edged her way along, until shecame to the steps leading to the side gallery, which she ascended, andhappily obtained a place where she had a full view of all that waspassing below. On a plain catafalque, covered with black velvet, infront of the sanctuary and altar, rested a coffin. It was made ofpine, and painted white. A few white lilies and evergreens werescattered among the lights which burned around it; and May knew thatsome young virgin had gone to her espousals in the kingdom of the LAMB. Half of the coffin-lid was turned back, and as she looked moreattentively on the marble features, turned to strange and marvellousbeauty by the great mystery--death--she recognized them. They belongedto a poor crippled girl, who had suffered from her childhood with anincurable disease, and who had been almost dependent on the alms of thefaithful for her daily support. 

"What a change for thee, poor Magdalen!" whispered May, as she gazeddown through her tears. "I look on the pale vestment of clay in whichyou suffered, and know that for you the awful mystery is solved. Thorns no more wound your heart; poverty and disease have done theirworst; while far up, beyond the power of earth and evil, your destinyis accomplished. A poor mendicant no longer, the King of glory himselfushered you into the unrevealed splendors of that region which mortaleye hath never seen. You have beheld the glorious face of the sacredhumanity of Jesus Christ; your eyes have seen the Queen of heaven; andthe veiled vision of the Eternal Father has greeted you. Oh, whatcheer! Oh, what hope, to make joyful the purifying sufferings ofpurgatory! _and now_, on your altar, Jesus, the high-priest andpowerful Lord, full of clement mercy and majestic power, offers himselffor thy speedy liberation and admission into the beatific vision. Oh, Magdalen! how art thou exalted! how beyond all imperial splendor androyal power art thou lifted up!"

And while the divine mystery approached its consummation, still upwardarose the voice of the church in plaintive chants, interceding for thedeparted, who, in the "_suffering church_" rejoiced with a mournfulrapture amidst its patient agony which would ere long be exchanged fromdreary Calvary to an eternal Thabor. But now the awful moment arrived;the Lord Jesus had come; and although they saw him veiled under theform of bread, they knew HE was there; they _felt_ that august presencethrilling down like a still, small voice, into their souls, _It is I_;and the aspirations of that kneeling crowd went forth in solemnadoration; and returning sweetness filled each devout mind withbenediction, which flowing thence again to its divine source, offeredworthy homage to the LAMB. A ray of wintry sunlight stole through acurtained window near the altar, and flickered on the silent face ofthe dead virgin, as she lay an image of heavenly repose. May felt thatit was a type of the brightness which would soon crown her; and while aflood of warm and joyful rapture flowed into her soul, she exulted inthe thought that she, too, was a member of the household of faith. Itwas a profitable time to May; for death was suddenly stripped of itsthrilling horrors; its gaunt outlines were softened and brightened, andshe thought of him as a tireless and faithful guide, who led soulsbeyond the dark tide, over the lonely and shadowy ways, and through thefathomless abyss, to the very portals of eternal rest. She had almostforgotten the object which brought her out that morning, so absorbedwas she in the contemplation of the scene she had witnessed; until onrising to leave the church after the divine rites were over, her bundlefell to her feet. She snatched it up, ashamed of her carelessness, and, slipping through the crowd, emerged once more into the street. Picking her way through snow and ice, she came to a neat fancy store, and went in. Behind the counter stood a neat, pleasant old ladyassorting worsteds, who smiled a welcome the moment she saw who it waswho had entered. 

"Ah, my dear Miss May how do you do? come near the stove and sit down. It is not yet our busy time of day, and we can have a nice chat. "

"You will please excuse me now, dear Mrs. Tabb, I have been away muchlonger from home than I expected, and must hurry off, as I have anothererrand to do. I have brought more of those little zephyr worstedshirts, four pair of socks, and two or three mats--lamp mats, " saidMay, unfolding her bundle. 

"Bless me, dear child! you are making a fortune. I have sold all thatyou left with me two weeks ago; and after deducting my commission, hereis a half eagle for you. "

"All sold!" exclaimed May, joyfully. 

"Every one, and more ordered. The way was this. Two fine ladies, whoboth have infants, came in one day, and both wanted the things; butboth couldn't have them, and neither would purchase a part; so at lastone offered two dollars more than the other, and got them, " said Mrs. Tabb, deliberately taking a pinch of snuff. 

"Oh, Mrs. Tabb! dear me, it was more than they were worth. "

"Not to _her_, my child. She would have given _ten_ dollars ratherthan not get them; and she's so rich she don't know what to do with hermoney. So these will just do for Mrs. Osmond, who, I expect, will callthis very day for them. 

"I do not feel quite satisfied, " said May; "but as it was all_voluntary_ on her part, I suppose there's nothing very wrong in it. "

"Bless you--no. She paid the value of the things, then paid for herpride and ostentation, which is the way with _all_ worldly people, andwhich, thank God, _I_ am not responsible for. "

"Thank you, dear Mrs. Tabb; you are very kind to take so much troublefor me. I must run away now. I shall knit up all my worsted thisweek, so please have another package ready for me when I come again. Good by. "

"Good by, Miss May. I declare, if you don't hop about through the snowlike a robin; there--she's gone. Now, I should like to know whatbusiness old Stillinghast's niece has to be doing such work asthis, --the nipping old miser; and I'd like to know what _she_ does withthe money. "

And so should we; therefore, we will leave Mrs. Tabb to hercogitations, follow May, and find out. 

CHAPTER IV. 

AUNT MABEL. 

Fearing she would not have time to accomplish all that she desired, Maystepped into a jewelry establishment to ascertain the hour; but it wasonly half-past twelve, and, with a light heart and fleet step, shetreaded her way through the hurrying and busy crowds, crossed B----Street, then in the height of its din, uproar, and traffic, and soonfound herself among the dark, narrow thoroughfares, and large gloomywarehouses of the lower part of the city. Turning a corner, she lookedup and down, but finding herself at fault, hurried into another street, where she encountered quite a procession of merchants, old, young, andmiddle-aged, on their way to the Exchange, to learn the latest Europeannews, which a steamer, just arrived, had brought in. Many passed herwith a glance of surprise; some laughed, and gazed into her face withlooks of insolent curiosity: while others regarded her with unconcernand indifference. "It is strange, " thought May, shrinking back into adoorway, "I was _so_ sure of the way; but it will never do to standhere, yet how am I to get on? Sir, " she said to a benevolent-lookingold gentleman, whose white hairs and respectable appearance were aguarantee of protection to her, "will you be so obliging as to directme to the wood-yard of Carter & Co. I believe I have lost my way. "

"Certainly, my dear, " said the old man, with a pleasant smile; "I am onmy way to the Exchange, and shall be obliged to go right by it, so ifyou will walk by my side, or take my arm, I will leave you at theiroffice door. "

"Thank you, " replied May, as with a feeling of safety she laid herlittle hand on the fatherly arm, so kindly offered. Some ten minutes'walk brought them to the office of Carter & Co. , and while May stood aninstant, with her veil lifted, to thank her conductor, she saw a faceapproaching through the crowd--then lost, then visible again, whichblanched her cheeks by its sudden appearance. The cold, stern eyeswere turned another way, yet she _felt_ that they had recognized her;but it passed on, without seeming to notice her. "Uncle Stillinghast!"thought May, while her little fluttering heart felt an icy chill passover it; "what will Uncle Stillinghast think? Oh, how stupid I was, not to wait until they all got by, then look for the place myself. Ohdear, dear! I hope he did not see me. "

"What will you have, ma'am?" asked the clerk, coming forward, moreanxious to shut out the cold air from his comfortable snuggery than toeffect sales. 

"I wish to purchase a quarter of a cord of wood, sir. "

"Oak, hickory, or pine, ma'am?"

"Oak, if you please. "

"It is just now six and a half per cord, " insinuated the clerk. 

"Yes, sir; here is the money. Can you send the wood with me at once?"

"If you can wait until it is carted, ma'am, certainly, " replied theyoung man, taking the half-eagle she offered him, and returning thechange. 

"I will wait, and you will oblige me by sending a sawyer also. "

The young man went out to give the necessary orders, and in a littlewhile a sawyer made his appearance at the door, and announced that "allwas ready, if anyone would be after telling them where to go. "

"You will follow this lady, Dennis, " said the indefatigable clerk, pointing to May. 

"Where to, ma'am?" inquired Dennis. 

"To the north-western section of the city. I shall stop at one or twostores in Howard Street, but you can go on slowly, and I will overtakeyou. " May then made a few inquiries of the young man ere she bade himgood morning, and went away, glad to escape from a portion of the citywhere she was such an utter stranger, and whose intricate, narrowstreets, filled her with apprehension. When they came to HowardStreet, May stepped into a shoe-store, and purchased a pair of warmcarpet-shoes, nicely wadded inside; then flitted out, and ran into adrygoods emporium, where she bought a cheap, but soft woolen shawl, ofa brilliant scarlet yellow, and black palm-leaf pattern, and a pair oflong yarn stockings; then gathering her bundles close together on herarm, she hurried away to overtake the wood. When the carter came toBiddle Street, he stopped his horse, and declared "he would not go astep further with such a small load unless she paid him somethingextra; he had come a mile already. "

"You have not much further to go, " plead May. 

"I won't go another step, " he said, with an oath. 

"And I will not submit to extortion, " said May, speaking gently, butfirmly, while she fixed her calm, bright eyes on his. "I know thenumber of your cart, and informed myself at the office of the chargesyou are authorized to make, and if you do not proceed, I will complainof you. "

Intimidated by her resolute manner, the baffled driver muttered andswore, while he applied the whip to his horse's flanks, and pursued theroute indicated by May until they came to the very verge of the citylimits, where grand old oaks still waved their broad limbs in primevalvigor over sloping hills and picturesque declivities. Near a rusticbridge, which spanned a frozen stream, stood a few scattered huts, orcottages, towards the poorest of which she directed her footsteps. Standing on one of the broken flags, which formed a rude sort ofpathway to the door, she waited until the wood was emptied near by, andpaying the man, requested the sawyer to commence sawing it forthwith;then lifting the latch softly, she entered the humble tenement. Itcontained one small room, poorly furnished, and with but few comforts. An old negro woman sat shivering over a few coals on the hearth, tryingin vain to warm her half-frozen extremities. 

"Why, Aunt Mabel, have you no fire?" said May, going close to her, andlaying her hand on her shoulder. 

"Oh, Miss May! Lord bless you, honey! You come in like a sperrit. No, indeed, honey; I ain't had none to speak on these two days. "

"And your feet are almost frozen, " said May, with a pitying glance. 

"They's mighty cold, misses; but sit down, and let me look at you; itwill warm me up, " said the old woman, trying to smile. 

"Let me put these on your poor old feet first, " said May, kneelingdown, and drawing off the tattered shoes from her feet, while shechafed them briskly with her hands; then slipped the soft warmstockings and slippers on them, ere the old creature could fullycomprehend her object; then opening the shawl, she folded it about thebowed and shivering form. With a blended expression of gratitude andamazement, old Mabel looked at her feet, then at the shawl, then atMay, who stood off enjoying it, and finally covered her face with herhand, and wept outright. 

"Now, indeed, Aunt Mabel, this is not right; why, I thought you'd bepleased, " said May, lifting up her paralyzed hand, which lay helplesslyon her knees, and smoothing it gently between her own. 

"_Pleased_, honey! I am so full I'm chokin', I b'lieve. What you doall this for Miss May? I'm only a poor old nigger; I got no friends; Ican never do nuffin for you. What you do it for?" she sobbed. 

"Just because you _are_ poor, because you _are_ friendless, because you_are_ old and black, Aunt Mabel. And more than that, I shall be wellpaid for my pains. Oho, you don't know every thing, " said May, cheerfully. 

"I used to hear buckra parson read out of the Book, when I was down inthe plantation, that whomsoever give to the poor lend it to the Lord;is that it, honey?" she asked, wiping the tears from the furrows of herswarthy cheeks. 

"That is just it, my dear old aunty, so you have found out how selfishI am, after all. You are the creature of God as well as I; in _His_sight _your_ soul is as precious as mine. We are truly brethren in oureternal interests. Then you are very old and helpless, which makes mepity you. Now, let me have some wood in here, and make you a fire--aregular, rousing fire. "

"Maybe so--maybe so, " said old Mabel, thoughtfully; "but, look here, Miss May, what that you say 'bout wood, eh? You gwine out to cut someof the trees down in Howard's Park, I reckon?" she said, laughing andchuckling, highly diverted at the idea. 

"No, ma'am, for there is a load of good wood at your door, which is nowbeing sawed for your benefit. "

"Did you do that too, Miss May?"

"Never mind who did it, " said May, who ran out and gathered up a fewsmall pieces of wood, which she hurried in with, and soon kindled abright blaze on the hearth: after which, she requested the sawyer tobring in two large logs to lay behind. 

"Now, Aunt Mabel, are you comfortable?" she inquired, as she drew a lowchair up by the old woman's side, and seated herself in it. 

"Ah, honey, if you could only know how good the warm blood feelscreeping up to my shaky old heart, you wouldn't ask me; and thisbeautiful shawl, Miss May! it 'minds me so of the bright swamp flowersin old Ca'lina, that it takes me clean back thar. I had good timesthen, honey; but I can't say nuffin. I feel it all here, and I hopeyour heavenly Father will make it out, and pay you back ten thousandtimes, " said old Mabel, laying her shrivelled hand on her heart. 

"_Your_ Father and God too, Aunt Mabel, " said May, leaning towards her, and lifting her sunshiny face close to hers. 

"No, missis; I ain't good enough. He don't think of the likes of me. "

"Oh, Aunt Mabel, you must not say that. You are his creature, and fromhim proceeded your life and soul: for you, as well as me, his divineSon died that we might inherit eternal life. _He_ knows no distinctionin the distribution of his divine charity; the humblest slave, and themost powerful king, are alike the objects of his tender solicitude. And if I, a poor frail child of earth, pity and love you in your lowestate, how much more does He, the sweet and merciful Jesus, regardwith tender compassion the soul for whose salvation he has shed hisprecious blood. "

"Do _your_ religion teach the same to every body, honey; or is you onlysayin' so of your own 'cord?" inquired old Mabel, wistfully. 

"Our holy religion teaches it to all. Into her safe and ancient foldshe invites all; and when we know that this fold is the kingdomestablished on earth by Jesus Christ himself, how we ought to fly, andnever rest until we are gathered in. In this divine faith we aretaught to 'love one another, ' without regard to race, color, or nation, and bring forth fruits unto righteousness; which, if we fail to do, wedisobey, --we bring scandal on it, and the love of God is not in us, "said May, earnestly. 

"Fruits unto righteousness, which mean good works, I reckon, honey!"said the old creature, musingly. "Well, I dunno, but it _do_ seem like'tinkling cymbals, ' and 'sounding brass' to go preaching the gospel topoor sufferin' folks like me, and telling of 'em to be patient andresigned, and suffer the will of Heaven, and all that, if they don'tgive the naked clothes to cover 'em, and the hungry food to nourish'em, and to the frozen fire to warm 'em. I tell you what, Miss May, such religion aint no 'count it 'pears to me, and jest minds me of aapple-tree used to grow in ole mass'r's garden; it would get its leafand blossom; like the rest on 'em, but never a sign of apple did itbear; so one day ole missis tells him he better cut it down forfirewood--and so it was, and split up, and sent to my cabin; and I tellyou what, honey, I was glad, 'cause somehow it seemed to 'cumber theairth. "

"Yes, Aunt Mabel, if the true love of God is not in us, we are likefruit-trees cursed with barrenness--only fit to be cast into the fire, "said May, sighing. 

"Well, honey, I never was a professor, 'cause I never yet heardprofessors agreein'. The Baptists hated the Methodists; the Methodistshated the Presbyterians; the _Protestants_ looked down, like, on all of'em, and they all hated each other. I never could understand it, so Ithought I'd go to heaven my own way. "

"Well, Aunt Mabel, leaving these to their discords, " said May, smilingat her rude but truthful description, "did the thought never enter yourmind that _Jesus Christ_ might have established a faith and rule onearth to guide souls, which would be upheld and governed by His HolySpirit until the end of time?"

"I often thought he _ought_ to, honey; but I'm a poor ignorantcreetur--what do I know?" was the _naive_ reply. 

"_He did_, Aunt Mabel; and from the time he established it until now, during eighteen hundred years it has _never_ changed; it will neverchange until it exchanges for eternity its reign upon earth. All otherreligions were founded by _men_, --wicked, blood-thirsty, ambitious_men_, who wanted a broad license _to sin_, and who reserved only suchfragments of our divine faith, as would give plausibility to their newdoctrines without fettering theirs with responsibilities to spiritualtribunals. This is _why_ all these discords, exist among _professors_. In leaving the one faith which acknowledges one Lord and one baptism, they have hewn out for themselves 'broken cisterns which hold nowater. ' But do you understand me?"

"Yes, honey, that I do. But I'm too old and ignorant to hear larningand argumentation. I want the faith of Jesus Christ; and it 'pears tome that I never he'erd the true story until now. Whatever it is, _your_ religion suits me, if you will jest show me the way. I'm gwinedown, honey, to the valley and shadow of death, and the way'll bemighty dark without the help of the Lord. "

"He will be your guide and staff, Aunt Mabel, when the dark hourcomes, " said May, dashing a tear from her cheek. "But I must go awaynow, and I want you to think a great deal about Almighty God, until Icome again; then tell me if you think His word and promise are worthyof belief. Turn it over in your mind; view it in every way, and let mehear the result. I see your grandchild coming with a bundle offaggots; here is a little change to buy something--tea, or whatever youwant. "

"Good by, missis. Lord bless you and reward you. " But May was out ofthe cot, going at full speed towards home, which was not very fardistant. 

Mr. Stillinghast had purchased the house some thirty years before, whenit stood three quarters of a mile from the city. It was then a villa, and had been built by a French refugee, who, in those days of courtlycustoms, was famed for his elegant hospitality. One of the oldnoblesse, and but little acquainted with the practical management ofbusiness affairs, he became embarrassed, and was finally compelled todispose of his elegant house and furniture, and retire to a life ofobscurity and poverty. But the city was growing around it rapidly; ina few more years it would be hemmed in and walled around by streets andhouses. Mr. Stillinghast fretted and chafed; then calculated itsincreased value, and grew almost savage at the idea that he would bedead and forgotten when heaps of gold would be paid down for the fewfeet of earth it covered. 

When May went in, glowing with exercise and happiness, she found Helenmoping over the grate, in which the fire was nearly extinguished. 

"Why, Helen, it is very cold here, is it not?"

"I am nearly frozen. "

"Why on earth did you not step into the next room and get coal? Thereis a hod full on the hearth. "

"I am not in the habit of fetching coal and building fires, " she said, haughtily. 

"And supposing that I was, I presume you waited for me, " said May, witha feeling of exasperation she could not control. Then laying off herbonnet and wrappings, she went out and brought in the hod, emptied itinto the grate, let down the ashes, and put up the blower; and by thetime she finished, the recollection of the fire which she had kindledthat morning in old Mabel's cottage came like a sweet memory into herheart, and the bitterness passed away. 

"When do we dine? I suppose the ogre of the castle will be in soon!"said Helen. 

"My uncle generally dines down town; and I beg, Helen, that you willspeak more respectfully of him, " said May. 

"And shall we get nothing until _he_ comes?" screamed Helen. 

"Yes, " said May, laughing at her cousin's consternation. "We can dinenow. I have some cold roast beef, bread and butter, and a pie, leftfrom yesterday. "

"Oh, heavens! what a bill of fare; but let us have it, for I amfamishing. "

"Before you get even that, my dear, you must help about a little. Here, spread the cloth, and cut the bread; I will do the rest. "

"Spread the cloth, and cut the bread! I don't know how!"

"Learn, " said May, half diverted, half angry with the selfish one, asshe handed her the tablecloth, which was put on one-sided, while thebread was cut in _chunks_. When May came in from the pantry, abutler's room as it used to be in the time of the old marquis, Helenwas crying over a bleeding finger, which she had cut in her awkwardattempts to slice the bread. 

"This is a bad business, " said May, binding it up. "Helen, I reallyfeel very sorry for you. You will have so many disheartening trials inyour new way of life; but keep a brave heart--I will learn you all thatI know, if you are only willing. "

"Thank you, May, that is very nice. I don't care much about learningsuch low pursuits; but give me something to eat, " was her polite reply. 

May crossed herself when she sat down, and asked the blessing of God onthe food she was to partake of. Helen fell to, without a thought ofanything but the cravings of hunger. They conversed cheerfullytogether; and while Helen rallied her cousin on her long absence. Maythought, more than once, with sad forebodings, of her encounter withher uncle down town that morning. But she determined to keep her ownsecrets; for she well knew that if he discovered it, he would forbidher exertions in behalf of old Mabel, her visits, and be perhapsfuriously angry at the traffic she was carrying on with Mrs. Tabb. 

CHAPTER V. 

PAST AND PRESENT. 

The day waned; and that soft, silent hour, which the Scotch sobeautifully call the "_gloaming_" was over the earth. Subdued shadowscrept in through the windows, and mingled with the red glow which thefire-light diffused throughout the room, and together they formed aphantasmagoria, which seemed to ebb and flow like a noiseless tide. Andwith the shadows, memories of the past floated in, and knocked with theirspirit-hands softly and gently against the portals of those two heartswhich life's tempest had thrown together. Helen wept. 

"Do you remember your mother, dear Helen?" asked May, while she foldedher hand in her own. 

"No and yes. If it is a memory, it is so indistinct that it _seems_ likea dream; and yet, how often at this hour does a vision come to my mind ofa dark-eyed, soft-voiced woman, holding kneeling child against her bosom, to whom she taught a whispered prayer to the madonna! And the childseems _me_--and the lady, my mother; but it flits away, and then I thinkit is a dream of long ago. "

"Angel mothers! Oh, how beautiful the thought--angel mothers!" said May, in a low, earnest tone. "Do you know, I think with so much pleasure ofgoing to mine! Even when I was a little child, it was sufficient for myold maummy to say, 'Ah, how grieved your poor mamma would be, if she washere!'"

"Do you remember her?"

"Not at all. She died when I was a little wailing infant. Four monthsafterwards, my father, who was an officer in the navy, died at Canton. He never saw me. "

"And you have been here ever since?"

"Ever since. A faithful servant of my mother's, who had been many yearsin the family, brought me in my helplessness to my uncle for protection. But he, unused to interruptions, would not have received me, only thenews which came of my father's death, left him no alternative; so my oldmaummy remained to nurse me, and keep house for him. I can never expresshow much I owe her. She was ignorant in worldly knowledge, and only apoor slave; but in her simple and earnest faith, she knew much of thescience of the saints. With a mother's tenderness, she shielded me fromspiritual ignorance and error, and led my soul to the green pastures ofthe fold of Christ. "

"Had you no other instructor?" inquired Helen. 

"Oh yes. Father Fabian. He instructed me in the divine mysteries of ourholy faith. He has been my director ever since I was a little child. But how was it with you, dear Helen?"

"I have lived a great deal with Protestants, May, " replied Helen, after ashort pause. "_My_ father was a major in the army--the only brother ofthe old man here. He was a Catholic, but he was always so full ofofficial business that he had very little time to attend to religion, andall that kind of thing. His official duties engrossed his time entirely. But he always impressed it on my mind that it would be extremelydishonorable not to avow myself a Catholic when occasions demanded it;and I believe he would have been pleased to see me practise my faith. Iwas sent to a convent school in Louisiana when I was ten years of age, but was suddenly removed, to accompany my father to Boston, to whichplace he was ordered. _There_ I was surrounded by persons of fashion andposition, who made eyes at me when I told them I was a Catholic, anddeclared I would lose _caste_ if I went to a church which was attendedonly by the 'low Irish, and servant girls. ' Then I heard Catholicsderided as superstitious and ignorant, until, I must confess it, I grew_ashamed_ of being one. My father was too busy to think of me, --healways saw me well-dressed and in good company, and imagined that allelse was going well with me; while _I_, proud, flattered, and enjoyingthe world, fancied that it was of little importance while I was so young. My poor father was a brave and gallant officer; and I think when hesometimes declared with a dignified air that 'he and his daughter wereCatholics, ' it was more from the feeling which makes a soldier swear byhis flag, than any higher motive. This has been my religious training;but my dear, indulgent father is dead--gone for ever, and I am_here_--here--Oh, May!" and Helen wept on May's shoulder. 

"And _how_, dear Helen, did my uncle die?" said May, in a tone of tendersympathy. 

"Very suddenly. He was not conscious from the moment he was taken illuntil he died, " she replied. 

May could not utter a word. Her heart was filled with a strange horrorat the idea of that sudden and unprovided death. She could have criedout with anguish for that soul, which, in the midst of its careless prideand criminal indifference, had been summoned by an inexorable decree tothe tribunal of judgment! where it appeared _alone--alone--alone_, to beweighed in the balance of justice. "But, perhaps, sweet Jesus!" shewhispered; "oh, perhaps, Thou didst in the last struggle hear it from itsabyss of misery plead for mercy; perhaps, through thy bitter passion anddeath Thou didst rescue him from eternal woe--"

"What are you saying, May! No doubt I have shocked you; you are so verypious!"

"_Pained_ me, dear Helen; but you will do better now. You _feel_, I amvery sure, that a life of prevarication and indifference does not answerfor a Catholic; and now there will be nothing to hinder you. "

"Perhaps so, dear May. I really wish to do right--but what, in the nameof mercy, is that noise!" cried Helen, starting up. 

"It is Uncle Stillinghast coming in. He is beating the snow from hisfeet, " said May, lighting the candles. By this time Mr. Stillinghast hadthrown off his wrappings, hung up his hat, and come in. He was evidentlyin no amiable mood, and to the greetings of his nieces condescended noreply. 

"It is colder this evening, Sir, is it not?" said May, flitting aroundthe tea-table. 

"Yes. "

"Shall I get your tea now, uncle?"

"Yes. "

"Here it is, sir; it is very nice and hot; every thing is ready. Come, Helen, " said May, placing the chairs. They took their seats in silence. 

"What's your name?" Mr. Stillinghast said abruptly, turning to Helen. 

"Helen. "

"Can you make bread?"

"No, sir, " replied Helen, in trembling tones. 

"_Learn_, d'ye hear?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Can you sweep--make a shirt--wash--iron?" he burst out. 

"No, sir, " she said, trembling. 

"What _are_ you good for, then?" he inquired, sternly. 

"I don't know, sir; I can play on the harp, " faltered Helen. 

"Play the devil! You are a pretty, curly wax doll--good for nothing, andcumbering the very earth that you live on. "

Helen said nothing, but tears rolled over her cheeks. 

"But I will have no idlers about me. You shall learn to be useful andindustrious. D'ye understand?"

"I will try, sir. "

"Very well. And now, miss, what were _you_ doing parading about with oldCopeland down town?" he said, turning suddenly to May; "a man I detestwith all my soul. "

"I do not know any individual of that name, sir. I missed my way thismorning, and inquired of an old gentleman who was passing the address ofa person I had business with. Then he offered to show me, as he wasgoing past the place, " said May, lifting her clear, truthful eyes, to hisface. 

"And _what_ business, pray, led you to a part of the city so littlefrequented by the respectable of your sex?"

"If you will excuse me, sir, I would prefer not telling you, " she said, gently. 

"I insist on knowing, " he exclaimed, angrily. 

"You will excuse me, sir, when I tell you that it was quite a littleaffair of my own, " replied May, in a low voice. 

"Very well, madam!" said Mr. Stillinghast, bowing with a sneer; "butdepend on't I shall sift this matter--it shall not rest here. "

"I am grieved, dear uncle, to have offended you, " began May. 

"Be silent! You are full of popish tricks; I suppose you were engaged inone this morning. Go, answer the bell!" Glad to escape, May stepped thehall to open the door, and ushered in a tall, fine-looking man, who saidhe had business with Mr. Stillinghast. He bowed with a well-bred air toMay and Helen, then to Mr. Stillinghast, who invited him to be seated. 

"My name is Jerrold, sir--Walter Jerrold, and I have come to bring yourents due for the property belonging to you which I occupy. "

"Which of my houses is it?" inquired Mr. Stillinghast, gruffly. 

"One on C---- Street, sir; and the warehouse on Bolton's Wharf. Here arethe bills, which I hope you will find satisfactory, " replied the youngman, handing him a roll of notes, which he inspected carefully one by one. 

"All right, sir: but the fact is, Mr. Jerrold, this is a very irregularway of doing business. The next time we can settle our matters better atmy counting-room, " said the old man, folding the notes away; after whichhe wrote a receipt, and handed to him. "Many things might happen: you_might_, have been robbed on your way hither; I _may_ be robbed to-night. "

"We young fellows are sadly deficient in prudence, Mr. Stillinghast, butyour suggestions shall not be lost on me, " replied Mr. Jerrold, pleasantly. Although Mr. Jerrold's visit was ostensibly one of business, he was not at all inattentive to the presence of the cousins. His eyelingered on the faultless face of Helen, until she lifted her large browneyes, and caught his glance, when a soft blush tinted her cheeks, and thelong fringed lids drooped over them. May dropped her handkerchief, whichhe picked up, and handed to her with a courteous bow. 

"I fear, ladies, that my awkward visit has interrupted some domesticarrangement, " he said, observing the tea-table. 

"Not at all, sir, " replied May, frankly. 

"I beg a thousand pardons if I have; but good evening--good evening, Mr. Stillinghast. I shall beg your permission, sir, to-morrow to consult youabout the investment of some funds I have lying idle. "

"Of course, sir;" said Mr. Stillinghast, following him to the door. "Arising young man! Come, come, make haste, and clear off the table; Ihave accounts to look over. "

"Come, dear Helen, it will be better for you to help a little, " whisperedMay. "Here is the evening paper, sir, and your pipe when you are ready, "she said to her uncle. 

"Humph!" was the only reply she received. When every thing was finished, they bade him good night, and ran up to their chamber. 

"_Where_ were you to-day, May?" inquired Helen, as soon as May closed thedoor. 

"I was at church--down town--up town--then I came home, " said May, cheerfully; "and more than that I do not think proper to disclose. Butlet us prepare for bed. Dear Helen; we shall have to rise early in themorning, and you must get all the sleep you can. "

"May, my firm impression is that this sort of life will extinguish me, "said Helen, solemnly; "that horrid old man will certainly tear me topieces, or bite off my head. Indeed--indeed, I am more afraid of himthan any thing I ever saw. "

"What nonsense! It will do you good. You will soon learn to have an aimin life; it will drive you for comfort where only comfort can be found, and you will learn patience, forbearance and meekness, long-suffering, and charity. "

"Like yourself, I presume!" said Helen, with a slight sneer. 

"Oh, no! oh no, dear Helen; did I say any thing like that? I did notmean it, for I am very often angered and impatient, and on the very eveof breaking out; but I don't. "

"And why don't you? Do you expect to inherit the old man's gold?"

"Helen, I never think of it. I have a higher motive, I trust. Mypeculiar trials give me so many opportunities of learning the rudimentsof Christian virtue; therefore, after the first sting is over, I feelthankful and happy. "

"Help us all! I shall never attain such perfection. "

"Nor do I ever expect to arrive at perfection. Oh, no! I am tooimperfect; too full of infirmities and faults!" said May, earnestly. "But shall I read the night prayers, or do you prefer reading them alone?"

"Oh, read them by all means; but don't begin until I get on my cloak--itis freezing cold here, " said Helen, shivering. 

May read the beautiful prayers and litany of our Blessed Lady with suchfervor and piety that Helen was touched in spite of herself, andresponded with heartfelt earnestness; and at the _De Profundis_, shethought of her dead father, and wept bitterly. 

"I am very, very sad, May, " said Helen, when May kissed her good-night. 

"To-morrow, dear Helen, we will seek a heavenly physician; He who comesto the lowly and repentant, and dispenses healing and divine gifts fromhis throne--the altar!" whispered May. 

Helen sighed deeply, but made no reply. 

CHAPTER VI. 

HELEN. 

The great bell of the cathedral was just tolling the _Angelus_, whenMay, laying her hand softly on Helen, awoke her. 

"Rise, dear Helen; it is six o'clock. "

"It is not daylight yet, and I shan't rise, I assure you, " she said, ina fretful tone. 

"Yes you will, I am sure. Uncle Stillinghast will be quite displeasedif you do not. He said yesterday morning that you should rise when Ido, and lo! you have slept an hour later. Come! it is hard I know toget up in the cold, but you'll soon become accustomed to it. "

"I declare, May, you are as bad as your uncle. Heavens! what a pair tolive with. One as exacting as a Jew, the other obedient as a saint, and obstinate as a mule! I never was so persecuted in my life!"exclaimed Helen, rising very unwillingly. 

"That is right, " said May, laughing, "be brisk now, for there is agreat deal to do. "

"What is it, May? Are you going to build a house before breakfast?"

"Come and see, and I promise you a nice time. The fire is already madein the kitchen-stove. Hurry down, I want you to grind the coffee. "

"Grind the coffee! What is that?" asked Helen, with amazement. 

"I will show you. Really, I would not ask you, only I have rolls tomake. "

"Coffee to grind, and rolls to bake, for that horrid old man--"

"And ourselves. I tell you what, Helen, he could get on vastly wellwithout us, but how we should manage without him I cannot tell, " saidMay, gravely, for when occasion offered, she could so inflate andexpand her little form with dignity, and throw such a truthfulpenetrating light into her splendid eyes, that it was quite terrifying. 

"Go on, then; I shall follow you in a few moments. I have some prayersto say. " Helen's prayers were soon over. Religion was no vitalprinciple in her mind. It is true she held the germs of faith in hersoul, but they were like those bulbs and grains which are so oftenfound on the breast of mummies--which, unless exhumed, and exposed tosunlight and air, never develop their latent life. So with her;swathed, and wrapped, and crusted over with evil associations, artificial feelings, and the maxims of the world, the germ washidden--buried--until the angel of repentance should reveal to her thepearl she held, and lead her _beyond_ the vestibule of faith. She hadlooked no farther; poor Helen; to the splendors, the consolations, andrapture beyond, she was a stranger. It is not remarkable, then, thatwhen she encountered the stern changes and trials of life, the burdengalled and fretted her. 

"How are you, ma'am; you are very welcome!" laughed May, when Helencame down; "come near the fire, and while you warm yourself, take thiscoffee-mill on your knees--turn the handle so, until all the grainsdisappear, then begin the second stage. "

"The what?" asked Helen, tugging at the handle, which she turned withdifficulty. Her hands, unaccustomed to work of any kind, held itawkwardly; while May, with her hands in the dough, which she workedvigorously, laughed outright at her fruitless efforts. 

"It's no use, May, " at last she broke out, "I can't do it; and I've amind to throw the thing out of the window and run away. "

"Where, dear Helen?"

"I don't know. I will hire out as lady's-maid, companion, governess--any thing is preferable to this sort of life!" sheexclaimed, flushing up. 

"You would find greater difficulties than a harmless coffee-mill tocontend with, I imagine!" said May, quietly, while she shaped herrolls, and placed them in a pan. 

"What _shall_ I do?" cried Helen, in a tone of despair, after anotherfruitless effort. 

"Grind the coffee. Come, you are quite strong enough; put it on thetable, here--steady it with one hand, and turn with the other--so; nowit goes, " said May, pleasantly. 

"How ridiculous! what now?" said Helen, laughing. 

"The second stage!" replied May, looking mysterious; "pull out thatlittle drawer, and empty the powder you will find in it into thecoffee-pot, which I have just scalded--that is it; now pour on a little_cold_ water; put in this fish-sound; fill up with boilingwater--there, that is enough. Now comes the third, and last stage. Set the pot on the stove, and watch it; when it boils up the thirdtime, throw in a small cup full of cold water, and take it off tosettle. It is ready then for immediate use. "

"Gracious! what an indefatigable, old-fashioned little thing you are, May, " said Helen, obeying her directions, and, after all, ratherenjoying the novelty of the thing, than otherwise. May's cheerful faceflitting about; the bright sunshine gushing in; the warmth of the room, and the feeling that she had really done something useful, inspired herwith a healthful sentiment of enjoyment which she had never experiencedbefore. Breakfast was ready; the rolls were light, and nicely browned;the coffee was clear and fragrant, and the idea of a good breakfast wasno mean consideration with Helen. 

"My uncle has not yet returned from market, and we can run in andarrange the sitting-room, " said May. 

And they flitted round, dusting, brushing, and polishing up, until theywere both as merry as crickets. The morning paper was opened, andspread on the back of a chair to air; the cushioned arm-chair waswheeled into its accustomed corner; and, just as every thing wascomplete in their arrangements, Mr. Stillinghast came in. Helen was inthe hall when he came in with a well-filled basket on his arm. 

"Shall I help to draw off your coat, sir?" she asked, timidly. 

He looked up a moment, and she seemed such a vision of loveliness thathis cold, dull eye, opened and brightened with astonishment. It wasthe first time he had really looked at her. A low, chuckling laugh, burst from his lips, which Helen thought frightful, and he handed herthe basket, saying, "I can do it myself; take this to the kitchen. "She dared not excuse herself, but holding it with both hands, andfeeling as if her wrists were breaking, she passed through thesitting-room with such a doleful countenance, while a red angry spotburned on her forehead, that May could not forbear laughing even whileshe went to assist her. 

Mr. Stillinghast's humor was not quite so rasping as usual thatmorning, although he cast more than one angry look towards May, andscarcely noticed the remarks she made to him. When she told him thatHelen had made the coffee, he nodded towards her, and with a grim smiletold her that "she had made a good beginning;" but to May, never a wordwas uttered. Notwithstanding which, it was very evident that apleasant thought, by some rare chance, had taken possession of hisbleak heart, like birds, which, sometimes in flying, drop from theirbeaks the seeds of beauteous and gorgeous flowers into the crevice ofsome bare grey rock. He did not again advert to May's adventure downtown, and she _hoped_ he had forgotten it; but he was one of those who_never forget_. 

At half-past eight, all her domestic affairs in order, May and Helenprepared to attend the 9 o'clock mass at the cathedral. Helen'sworldly heart was pleased with the grandeur of the building, thedignity with which the ceremonies were conducted, and the appearance ofthe congregation, who appeared to belong to a better class than she hadbeen accustomed to see in the Catholic churches North. And so theydid. They were mostly individuals of fortune and leisure, who hadtheir time in command. And there were those whose age and infirmitieswould not permit them to come out at an earlier hour; feeling thankfulto know that He, the wonderful and humble Jesus, would be there toreceive their homage, and dispense His blessings to their waitinghearts. Her old feelings would have triumphed, had she attended theearlier masses, when the artisan, the toil-worn, the laborer, with hishabiliments covered with the moil and toil of earth; the tattered poor, who were ashamed to come out into the full light of day; the halt, thecripple, and the blind, led by little ones; the widow and orphan, thebereaved, who seek to hide their anguish from all eyes but His who canheal it; the dark children of Ethiopia, the slave, the outcast, hadcongregated there; all equal in HIS eyes, as they will be in the valleyof Jehosaphat when the judgment is, to receive the divine manna and thevital heavenliness which His presence afforded; when, like pilgrimsrefreshed by pure water in the desert, they went forth to encounteragain the heat, the simoon, the thirst and weariness of the way, butwith renewed courage. 

"Shall we go in to see Father Fabian a moment?" said May, after mass. 

"No, not now, May. I think, perhaps I shall go to confession soon; andI do not wish to know him, or be known to him, " she replied, shrinkingback. 

"Let it be soon, very soon, dearest Helen!" said May, pressing her hand. 

"Perhaps, " she answered, vaguely. 

"Now, dear Helen, can you find your way back? I have to go a littleway on business, " said May, when they came within two squares of home. 

"Oh, yes; but really, you seem to have a great many mysterious visitson hand!" observed Helen, rather sharply. 

"You shall come with me soon, if you wish to;" replied May. Then theyseparated; Helen dissatisfied, and a little angry, and May rejoicinglike a miser who goes to visit his treasure. Full of happy thoughts, she went on until she came to old Mabel's cottage, at the door of whichstood a small, close carriage. The door was ajar, and she went in. There were two ladies in silks, velvets, and plumes, standing beforeAunt Mabel, and both were speaking in an excited tone. 

"A Roman Catholic!" they exclaimed. 

"Yes, misses, " was the meek reply. 

"Why, don't you know you peril your eternal salvation, by becoming apapist?"

"No, misses, I don't know it, neither does you. I been living on andon, and never was a professor, and I'm gwine to do jest what is rightat the 'leventh hour. It's a 'ligion that's older than all, and wasknow'd and practised afore any of yourn was ever thought on. "

"Did you ever hear such preposterous ignorance!" exclaimed one; "why, old aunty, _who_ has been tampering with you?"

"Nobody, honey, only them that's got a 'ligion that larns them to givebread to the hungry, warm clothes to the freezing, and fire to keeplife in their bodies; and tells the poor ole nigger that God loves hersoul as well as he do buckra folks. So I'm gwine to be one, " repliedold Mabel, striking her stick on the hearth. 

"You are a poor, benighted creature, and I hope God will pity you onthe score of your ignorance, " said one of the well-meaning ladies. 

"I hope he will, misses, I hope he will, " she said, humbly. 

"We had some things for you; but, of course, we cannot leave them now;the papists must take care of their own poor--_we_ have enough of ourown, " observed one. 

"Thank'ee, misses. "

"Downright impudence!" they muttered, flouncing out to their carriage, without seeing May, who had taken refuge behind the bed, which was hunground with some faded patchwork, to keep out air. 

"And so you're bearing testimony for Christ already, Aunt Mabel, " saidMay, coming towards her with outstretched hands. 

"Bless your dear face, honey, it seems best for me. I ben so longwithout sarving God, that I shall 'quire all the help I can get in thisworld and the next. Them ladies, honey, is well-meaning, I reckon. They 'tended me a little while last winter, but they wanted to send meout yonder--I wouldn't go; I'm mighty poor and helpless, Miss May, andwas friendless then, but I couldn't go thar!"

"Where, Aunt Mabel?"

"To the poor-house, my child. But, honey, arter you went awayyesterday, I all at once remembered a Catholic woman--she was ahalf-Indian, half-nigger, from the West Indies--that I used to do agood turn for now and then. She was dying with consumption, and sheused to talk to me about the saints in glory praying for us, theblessed mother of Jesus Christ, and purgatory, in her broken lingo, till I b'lieved every word she said. I was trying to recollect, arteryou left me, and it all come pat into my head at once. "

"These are consoling, helpful, and holy doctrines, Aunt Mabel; but tellme if you are satisfied that the Roman Catholic Church is the trueChurch of God?" said May, smoothing her withered hand. 

"I can't 'splain myself, honey; but thar's something in here that tellsme _it is_, " said the simple old creature, laying her hand on herbreast. 

"And that _something_ is a great and glorious gift, Aunt Mabel--thegift of FAITH. But hear what our dear Lord said, before he ascended tohis Father; here is your old Protestant Bible, which your good mistressused to read to you so long ago. I will find it in this, " said May, taking down the shattered old copy of the Scriptures from its shelf. "First of all, our Lord established his Church on earth. It was theobject of his divine mission. Then he endowed his apostles withheavenly gifts and authority to do even as he had done; and declaredthat his Church was 'founded on a rock, against which the gates of hellshould never prevail. '"

"And his word and his promise never fail, honey, because he is the LordGod, " said the old woman. 

"No, never, never fail, " said May, fervently; "and now listen. HereHe, Infinite Truth, tells us himself _why_ this Church can never beovercome, or err, or do wrong: 'I will pray the Father!' said JesusChrist to his disciples, 'and he will send you another comforter, thathe may abide with you for ever--_even_ the SPIRIT OF TRUTH;' and againhe says: 'When He, the Spirit of Truth, is come, he will guide you inall truth. ' And this spirit was the Holy Ghost--the Spirit of God!Oh, Aunt Mabel, only think! the Spirit of the Eternal God--promised notonly to the disciples, but to the _Church for ever_! Do you understandme?"

"I understand, honey; and it's the same now it was then, and will befor ever. Oh, no, Satan, _you_ can't break up your master'sinheritance! You may worrit His sheep, and steal off His stray lambsnow and then, but, bless God, you'll get no furder, 'cause the Masteris thar hisself. Oh, Miss May, lead me in, quick as you please!" criedthe old woman, while tears streamed over her face. 

"Dear Aunt Mabel, your wish will soon be gratified. I will see FatherFabian to-morrow morning, after mass, and he will come to visit andinstruct you in many things, which it is necessary for you tounderstand. Were you ever baptized?"

"No, honey; my mother was a Baptist, and they don't baptize babies; andafter I growed up, I didn't like 'em, somehow, and so it's never beendone. "

"In this case, I am glad it was not done, " said May; "for now, when, after due preparation, you receive holy baptism, your soul will bewashed white and stainless as that of a Christian babe. You will havea clean and beautiful banqueting room to receive the Lord Jesus when hecomes to you, under the sacramental veil; and, being near the end ofyour pilgrimage, it is not likely that it will be again defiled by sin. Oh, how happy is the thought of going up through faith and repentance, without a stain, into the presence of our divine Lord!"

"_Me_, Miss May! _all_ that for an old crippled nigger like me?"exclaimed Aunt Mabel, wiping her eyes. 

"Yes, all that, and more--ten thousand times more. But now, AuntMabel, you must begin to examine carefully your past life; to rememberthe sins which have blotted it, and beg of Almighty God the grace oftrue repentance, sincere, humble repentance, that you may make a goodgeneral confession. And here, " continued May, taking off her ownmedal, and hanging it around Aunt Mabel's neck, "say the little prayeron this a hundred times a day, if you can remember it: '_Oh, Mary, conceived without sin, pity me, a poor sinner, who have recourse tothee_. ' It is a medal of our Blessed Lady, who will obtain from herdivine Son, for you, all that you may need. Can you say the prayer?"

"Oh, Mary, conceived without sin, pity me, a poor sinner, who haverecourse to thee, " repeated the old woman. 

"Say it over and over again, until you know it perfectly, " said May. 

"I got it in here, honey, fast, " replied the old woman, pointing to herheart. 

"That is right. Now, can I do any thing for you?"

"No, my misses, only call my grandchild as you go 'long. I let her goout to have a run in the sunshine this morning. "

"I will send her to you; and to-morrow I think you will see FatherFabian, " said May, before she closed the door. And she went away, wrapped as with a royal mantle, _in the blessings of the poor_. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THINGS OF TIME AND ETERNITY. 

In a small and elegant _boudoir_, which opened into a conservatory, andwas crowded with articles of taste and _vertu_, --the gleanings of a tourthrough Europe, --a lady, somewhat past the prime of life, leaned over an_Or-molu_ table, arranging with exquisite touches, a quantity of splendidflowers in a basket of variegated mosses which stood on it. There was alook of high-bred indolence about her, and an expression of pride on hercountenance _so_ earthly, that even the passing stranger shrunk from it. And, while with a fine eye for the harmony of colors, she blended thegorgeous flowers together, weaving the dark mosses amidst them, untilthey looked like a rare Flemish painting, the door opened, and adistinguished-looking young gentleman came in--called her mother--kissedher on the cheek, and threw himself with an easy air into a _fauteuil_. 

"You see how busy I am, Walter, and until I am disengaged, look overthese new engravings. They are just from Paris, " said the lady. 

"I see, dear mother, that you have the affairs of a nation on yourshoulders. I hope, for your health's sake, you have no other momentousconcerns to look after this morning, " he said, playfully. 

"One more, Walter; my goldfinch is half-starved, and the mocking-bird isreally on his dignity, because he has not had egg and lettuce for hisbreakfast; but, _apropos_, what success had you with old Stillinghast?"

"Faith, mother, it is hard to tell. He is a tough personage to dealwith. I got in, however, and saw the two nieces. "

"Well?"

"One of them is extremely beautiful. I shall have no objections tomaking her Mrs. Jerrold, provided--"

"The old miser makes her his heiress, " interrupted Mrs. Jerrold. 

"Exactly. The other one is a nice, graceful, little thing, with _such_ apair of eyes! She has a spirit of her own, too, I fancy. "

"I have been thinking over our plan to-day, and it really seems to be afeasible one, Walter, if you can only win Mr. Stillinghast's confidence. How do they live?"

"I presume they consider it comfortable;--it would be miserable to me. The old man appeared quite flattered this morning, when I got him toinvest that money for me; and shook my hand warmly when I inveighedagainst the present mania for speculating in fancy stocks. "

"You have _tact_ enough, Walter, if you will only use it properly and_prudently_. The mortgage on Cedar Hall has nearly expired; I have not asolitary dollar to pay it, and the consequence will be--a foreclosure, unless some miracle occurs to redeem it. _Your_ business must not bebroken down, by drawing on your capital!" said Mrs. Jerrold, pressing theyolk of a hard-boiled egg through the gilded wires of her mocking-bird'scage. 

"I'll move heaven and earth, mother, before Cedar Hall shall go out ofthe family. If I can bring things to pass with old Stillinghast, Imight, on the credit of marrying one of his heiresses raise the money ata ruinous interest. At any rate, Cedar Hall, goes not from theJerrolds, " he exclaimed. 

"But, Walter, I understand that both of those girls are Catholics?"

"That's bad; but I fancy I shall be able to put down all that sort ofthing, in case I win the lady, " he said, twirling an opal seal. 

"And _who_ are they? I have a horror of low families. "

"Make yourself easy on that score, they are our equals, I imagine. I amvery certain that none of them have been hung, or sent to thepenitentiary; and I presume there have been more _gentlemen_ in thefamily, than self-made men, from the simple fact, that both of thosegirls have been left quite penniless, and dependent on their uncle. Ibelieve, however, that the father of one was a major in the army; theother, a captain in the navy, " said Mr. Jerrold, laughing. 

"I am glad to hear it. I assure you that _family_ is no unimportantconsideration with me, " observed the lady. 

"Dear lady mother, I had not the remotest suspicion that it was; but Imust be off, " he replied, while he consulted his watch. "I got a privatedespatch this morning from New York, giving me the very pleasantinformation of a failure in the coffee crop; and I am going to attend asale at _ten_ o'clock, and expect to purchase largely at the presentprices. At _one_, my investment will double its value. "

"You were fortunate, indeed, " said Mrs. Jerrold. He kissed her cheekonce more, said "good-by, " and was gone. Neither mother nor son imaginedthey had been saying or doing any thing contrary to the laws of honor ormorality. Had any one suggested such an idea, _he_ would have feltgrossly insulted; and that red spot of pride on _her_ forehead would haveglowed into a flame of resentment. They were only keeping a sharp eye ontheir interests. Thus, at least, they would have defined their plans. Protestants, practical and nominal, think of the judgment as an idea tooremote to influence the acts of their daily life. They have noconfessionals for ever reminding them of the right principles of a truerule of faith; and no spiritual guides, whose duty it is to probe theerring conscience, and heal, with divine gifts, the repentant soul. Butwe will leave Mrs. Jerrold's _recherché boudoir_, and accompany May fromthe Cathedral to Father Fabian's parlor. She was disappointed at notfinding him there, but determined to wait, as the servant informed herthat he had been sent for just as mass was over, to carry the HolyViaticum to a laborer who had fallen from a scaffolding in the nextsquare, and was dying from the effect of his injuries. 

"I will go Into the church and wait. Will you please to call me whenFather Fabian comes in? I have something of importance to say to him, "said May, while awe and tender charity filled her heart. 

"I shall certainly call you, ma'am, " replied the respectable domestic. 

And May went back and knelt in her accustomed place near the altar--thataltar, which, to her clear faith, was a throne of majestic and clementlove, where the Shepherd of souls was for ever present, to makeintercession for those who, through His bitter passion and death, hopedfor eternal life. Earnestly she besought His mercy for that soul in itslast sudden agony. She besought the Queen of Sorrows, by the pangs sheendured on Calvary, to come to his aid and obtain from her divine Son thegrace of a good death! She implored the saints, who had gone up throughmuch tribulation, and who pity those who suffer and weep in this valleyof tears, to pray for him, that he might not be overcome in the hour oftrial by the enemy of souls. In her earnest charity she took no heed oftime, and was startled when the servant, kneeling beside her, informedher that Father Fabian had returned, and would see her. When she wentin, he was taking a cup of coffee and some toast, which it was veryevident, from his pale, excited countenance, he needed. His Breviary waslying open near him. 

"Ah, my dear child!" he said, holding out his hand to May, "I am veryglad to see you. How are you?"

"Quite well, father. But do not let me disturb you; you need refreshmentafter the late melancholy scene, " she replied. 

"Melancholy, indeed; but oh, so full of consolation!" observed FatherFabian, while his eyes filled up. "We priests, like physicians, arecalled on to witness a great many distressing scenes, which many a timeappal our weak human nature, and almost overcome our charity by terror. This affair was truly heart-rending. When I arrived at the spot, I foundthe poor man lying on the sidewalk, crushed, and almost speechless. Acrowd, collected together by curiosity, surrounded him. I asked aphysician, who was examining the extent of his injuries, 'whether or nothe could be removed?' 'He has not fifteen minutes to live, poor fellow, 'was his reply! I threw on my stole, requested the crowd to stand back alittle, and knelt on the bricks beside him, and bowed my ear close to hislips. He had recognized me, and his eyes already dim, lit up with joy;and in faltering and whispered words, he made his short confession. Happily, his conscience was not burdened with mortal sin. He was one ofmy penitents, and I knew how regular and pious his daily life had been. Quickly I gave him absolution, after which I administered the HolyViaticum, which he received with great fervor. 'I am resigned; but, sweet Jesus, pity my little ones, ' he whispered. Then, in a littlewhile, with our dear Lord to conduct him, he passed into eternity. Idoubt not that his sentence was full of mercy. " There was a pause ofseveral moments, during which May dashed more than one tear from hercheek. 

"But who, think you, I saw, when I lifted my eyes from that dyingcountenance?"

"I cannot imagine, father. "

"Your uncle. Yes, indeed! he stood watching the scene with a most intentand singular expression of countenance, " said Father Fabian. 

"It is, I believe, one of the first _practical_ fruits of the Catholicfaith he ever saw, " said May, quite forgetting her own humble, patientexample. 

"Probably!" said Father Fabian, smiling; "but tell me now what is it youwant. I have to run away out to the north-western limits of the city. "

"That will suit precisely, dear father. It is a poor, paralytic oldwoman, I wish to direct you. She has determined to become a Catholic, and wishes to see you. She needs instruction; but her faith is sodocile, that I do not think you will hesitate long to grant the ardentdesire of her soul, which is, admission into the church of God. "

"And where does our neophyte live?" asked Father Fabian. 

"In the first of those small cottages west of Howard's Woods; but please, Father Fabian, don't mind any thing she may say about me, " said May, blushing, and looking embarrassed. "She is so very grateful, that sheimagines that I have done a great deal for her, and really makes meashamed of the trifling amount of good I have extended to her. Will yougive me your blessing, father?"

"I shall certainly go, my dear child--meanwhile, pray for me, " saidFather Fabian, as she rose up from receiving his blessing. 

"Will you pray for my uncle's conversion, father? and, oh! I had almostforgotten! My cousin has arrived; shall I bring her to see you soon?"said May, standing at the door. 

"Whenever you please to;" and May went away, feeling quite happy. 

Mr. Stillinghast had not forgotten May's refusal to explain the cause ofher appearance, the day before, on the wharf; and being determined todiscover it, he stopped, on his way down to his counting-house, at thewood-yard office, and inquired "if a young lady had been in there topurchase wood yesterday?"

"Well, sir, I hardly know how to reply to your question;--but I believethere were several young ladies in here to buy wood yesterday, " said theyoung man, looking highly amused. 

"But there was one who came with old Copeland; she had on a purple merinodress--and--something, I don't know what else she had on, " said Mr. Stillinghast, _feeling_ ridiculous. 

"Was she very small, sir, with bright hazel eyes?"

"I know nothing about the color of her eyes, but she's something higherthan my walking stick, " replied the irascible old man. 

"The same, sir. _She_ came with Mr. Copeland; and if her eyes didn'tmake me dance in and out, it's a wonder!" observed the clerk. 

"Well, what in the deuce did she want here?"

"She bought a quarter of a cord of oak wood, and paid for it!"

"What did _she_ want with oak wood?" cried Mr. Stillinghast, becomingmore impatient every moment. 

"To burn, I presume, " replied the young man, paring off a chew oftobacco; "but the fact is, sir, we didn't ask her. We always take it forgranted that people buy wood to burn. "

"_Who_ does know any thing about it?" was the sharp response. 

"The sawyer, I fancy, if he can be found. I have not seen him aboutto-day, however, " said the young man, with a broad grin, which hespeedily changed, when his strange visitor burst out with, "When he comes, send him to me. --My name is Stillinghast. "

"Certainly, Mr. Stillinghast, certainly. Excuse me, sir, for notrecognizing you, " stammered the clerk. 

"I'm determined, " muttered the old man, going out and slamming to thedoor, without noticing the young man's apologies, "I'm determined to siftthis matter. If I had a feeling of humanity left, it was for thatgirl--papist though she be; if I loved or cared a tithe for any livingbeing, it was she! I intended--but never mind _what_ I intended. Shehas been doing wrong and I'll find it out. She has tried to deceive me, but _I'll_ convince her that she has mistaken her dupe. Where did sheget the _money_ to buy wood with?" And at that thought, such a fierce, sudden suspicion tore through that old, half ossified heart, that hepaused on the flags, and gasped for breath. "My God!" he murmured, "hasshe robbed me?" And during the remainder of that miserable day, hisledgers were almost neglected. Foul and ungenerous suspicion heldpossession of his mind; and inflamed with a malicious anger, he plottedand schemed his revenge until he had defined a plan that well suited hispresent mood. "If she plots, " he muttered, rubbing his dry, yellow handstogether, with grim delight, "I will _counter_-plot. It is not thewrong, _but the person who inflicts it_, that stings me. But the_serpent's tooth_ has been gnawing these many years at my heart--whycomplain now?"

But several days passed, and he had obtained no clue to the mystery, which increased his anxiety, and made him more fretful and testy thanusual. He allowed no opportunity to escape, to make May feel hisdispleasure. Bitter and contemptuous speeches, coarse allusions to herreligion, fault-finding with all she did, and sudden outbursts ofunprovoked fury, were now the daily trials of her life. Trials whichwere sore temptations, and full of humiliation to a proud, high spirit, like May's; and sharp were the struggles, and earnest the prayers, andmany the scalding tears she shed, ere she subdued the storm of wild andindignant resentment, which swept like whirlwinds through her soul. Buther talisman--the Cross of Jesus Christ--was her safeguard. Itssplinters inflicted many a sharp wound; but none so sharp, that the balmit distilled could not heal and beautify them. 

Helen, in a fright, kept as much as possible out of sight. Towards her, Mr. Stillinghast's manner was inconsistent, and variable in the extreme. At one time almost kind, at another, captious and surly. Sometimes hecalled on her for every thing, and perhaps the next moment threatened tothrow whatever he had ordered, at her head. Once he told her, in bittertones and language, that "but for wishing to make use of her to effectcertain ends, he would turn her into the street. " He had a new lock andkey, of a peculiar construction, fitted on his chamber door, which helocked every morning carefully, and carried the key away with him. 

"This is awful, May. _How_ can you bear it as you do, for you do notseem the least afraid of him?" said Helen, one morning. 

"I am afraid of offending our Lord by spitefulness, and returninginjuries to one who is my benefactor, " replied May. 

"You _do_ feel spiteful, then, sometimes? Really, it is quite refreshingto know that you are not perfect, " said Helen, in her sneering way. 

"Yes I _feel_ so very often. I am full of imperfections. I am _not_patient, or humble, or even forgiving. I am only _outwardly_--outwardlycalm and silent, because I do not think it right to fan up resentments, and malice, and bitterness, all so antagonistic to the love of God. Ihope! oh, I hope my motive is, singly and purely to avoid offending Him, "said May, humbly and earnestly. 

"I heartily wish the old wretch would die!" exclaimed Helen. 

"Oh, Helen! so unprovided as he is for another world! Unsay that, won'tyou?" cried May, clasping her hands together. 

"No, May; I mean it. I think he is as much fit to die now as he everwill be. He has doubtless spent his life in tormenting others, and itwill only be fair when he is tormented in his turn. But, spare thoselooks of horror, and tell me, who do you think passed by here thismorning, and looked in, and bowed?"

"I cannot tell, " said May, sadly. 

"That handsome Jerrold. I hope he may prove a knight-errant, and deliverme from Giant Despair's castle, " said the frivolous girl, while shetwisted her long, shining curls around her fingers. 

"Take care, Helen. Romance does very well in books, but it is amischievous thing to mix up in the real concerns of life. "

"My dearest May, I shall never want a skull to grin ghastly lessons ofmorality at me, while I have you, " replied Helen, with a scornful laugh. 

"Pardon me, Helen; I fear that I do say too much; but let my goodintention be my excuse, " said May. 

"Yes, it is intolerable. My old Tartar of an uncle swearing and scoldingdown stairs, and you preaching and praying, up. It is more than humannature can bear. --Where are you going?"

"To confession, " replied May, in a low tone. 

"Very well; but, my dear 'wee wee woman, ' don't stay long, for I believethis rambling, musty old house is haunted. "

"Come with me, then?"

"Not to-day; I have an idea of exploring it, and should like, of allthings, to get into the very room which Blue Beard keeps locked up. Isthere any possible way of getting in?"

"Yes. "

"How? tell me, quick!"

"Ask Uncle Stillinghast for the key, " said May, while a flash ofmerriment lit up her eyes. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, " said Helen, curtseying:

"I leave all such exploits to people who are anxious to become martyrs. _I_ have no such ambition. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

TROUBLED WATERS. 

"Where are you gadding to now?" said Mr. Stillinghast, who hadencountered May and Helen at the hall-door, on their way out to church. "Where are you both going?"

"We are going to mass, sir, " said May, in her usual quiet, pleasant way. 

"One of you stay in. I won't have the house left so; do _you_ stay, for you are for ever gadding, " he said sharply to May. 

"I will remain at home, Uncle Stillinghast, " said Helen, quickly; "do_you_ go, May. "

"Do _you_ go, miss, and let her stay at home; d'ye hear me?" heexclaimed. 

"Indeed, sir, I wish to remain at home. I have no desire at all to gothis morning, " expostulated Helen. 

"Ar'n't you a papist?" he inquired, turning suddenly, and confrontingher. 

"I am a Catholic, sir, but--but, " she stammered. 

"But _what_?" he asked, sharply. 

"I do not care so much about going to church as May does, " she replied, lifting her handsome brown eyes to his angry countenance. 

"Oh, Helen!" exclaimed May, with an imploring look. 

"This is quite my affair, " said Helen, with a haughty air. 

"You've got more sense than I gave you credit for, " said Mr. Stillinghast, with a low, peculiar laugh. "Don't go any more unlessyou choose. "

"No, sir. "

"Oh, uncle!" cried May, losing all dread of her uncle's displeasure, and laying her hand on his arm; "you are tampering with her soul!Helen! Helen, you are trampling under foot your birthright in theChurch of Christ!"

"Fool!" exclaimed Mr. Stillinghast, shaking her off. "Be silent. Goyour ways, but dare not interfere with her. "

"I can only pray, sir, for _you_ and for her, " said May, after herfirst wild and indignant emotions had subsided. 

Another low mocking laugh sounded in her ears, then she found herselfalone. "This is dreadful, and hard to bear, " she murmured, as she wentout; "but Father Fabian says, that _trials_ are divine and royal gifts!If I lived only for _this_ life I would never--I could _not_ bear it, but living for eternity, I cannot afford to lose a single lesson of therudiments of perfection. "

"That girl, " thought Mr. Stillinghast, "is a mystery. She is either aprofound hypocrite, or an honest Christian. This scene, however, hasfixed my resolves. That Helen may be a fool, but she's not much of apapist. Odds, it will hardly require the temptation of a handsomehusband, and a splendid settlement, to make her forswear her creed. Iwill see Jerrold this very day. " When he arrived at hiscounting-house, he went directly to his desk, and penned a note, whichhe directed and sealed, then handed it to his porter to take to Mr. Jerrold. Then he perched himself on his high writing-stool, andopening his books, attempted to go on as usual with the business of theday. But there was something unquiet tugging at his conscience, whichdid not allow him to do so. He paused frequently, with his pen poisedover his inkstand, or paper, and fell into reveries, which ended withexpressions which burst out like shots from a revolver. It was now"Pshaw!" then, "I hate it worse than I do the synagogue;" or, "it is_not_ injustice! Have I not a right to do as I please with my ownproperty?" and "I'll do it as sure as my name is Mark Stillinghast. "

"Mr. Jerrold was away at bank, sir, " said the porter, who had returned;"and, sir, I left the note. "

"All right, Michael. _Business_ is the master we must serve first, andbest. Hoist out those bales there ready to ship. "

"The devil 'll fly away wid that ould haythen some of these days! Ishould like to know intirely if he ever hard of the day of judgment andthe Master that's to take an account of how _he's_ been sarved. Ireckon, bedad, he'll find out thin, if not sooner, that he's the onethat ought to had a little waitin' on, " muttered Michael, rolling out aheavy bale of cotton. 

Ere long Mr. Jerrold, anxious to conciliate the millionnaire, and fullof curiosity, did not lose a minute after he read the note in going tohim. 

"Good morning sir. I hope I have not kept you waiting, " he said, holding out his hand to Mr. Stillinghast. 

"No, sir; you are in very good time, " he replied, shaking hands, andoffering his guest a chair. "I see that you are not one who will letgrass grow under your feet. "

"I have my fortune to make, sir, " replied the young man, laughing; "butcan I serve you in any way, Mr. Stillinghast?"

"Michael! No, sir--no-- Here Michael!" cried Mr. Stillinghast. 

"Here, sir, " answered the porter at the door. 

"I wish to have a private conversation with this gentleman, and do notwant to be interrupted; do you hear?"

"Bedad, sir, I'm not deaf no more than the next one; but supposesomebody comes to pay up rents, et cetera?"

"Well--well, they can wait, " he replied. 

"And supposin' they _won't_?" persisted Michael. 

"In that case, rap at my door, and I will come out. Now, be off. "

"I never waste time, Mr. Jerrold, " said Mr. Stillinghast, after he hadclosed the door, and resumed his seat; "I never waste any thing--timeor words. I am blunt and candid, and aboveboard. I hate the worldgenerally, because I have been deceived in every thing I ever placedfaith in. I am a bitter, harsh, penurious old man. "

"Your life has been without reproach, sir, " observed Mr. Jerrold, whowondered what strange revelation was to be made. 

"No compliments; they nauseate me. I sent for you this morning topropose something which you may, or may not, accede to, there being acondition annexed that may not be altogether agreeable. But however itmay be, I wish you to understand distinctly that I do it to suit my ownends and pleasure, and if I could do otherwise I would. "

"I am very confident, sir, that you will not propose any thing to meincompatible with honor and integrity, " said Walter Jerrold. 

"No, sir. No; it is a fair bargain--a fair, honest, businesstransaction I offer, by which you will gain not only credit, butprofit. In view of this object, I have been for two days engaged in aninvestigation of your character. "

"Really, Mr. Stillinghast!" began the young man, with a haughty look. 

"Investigating your character, sir. I have made inquiries of yourfriends and foes concerning your habits, your business associations, your antecedents--"

"For what purpose, sir?" inquired Walter Jerrold, flushing up. 

"_To see if I might trust you. _"

"And the result of this strange procedure?"

"Is favorable throughout. I congratulate you, sir, on being withoutreproach in your business relations. You will suit me to a nicety. Ilost two years ago the old man who sat at this desk for the last fortyyears. He was the only friend I had in the wide earth. He was my propand support, and now that he is gone, I feel tottering and weak. Iwant some one to assist me in the cares of my immense business; apartner, young, active, and possessed of just the requisites which youhave. "

Walter Jerrold's eyes lit up with an expression of wild triumph. Hecould scarcely believe his own ears; he thought it was a cheating dreamthat the millionnaire, Stillinghast--the bitter, inaccessible old man, should offer him something so far beyond his most sanguine hopes;advantages which he had intended to intrigue, and toil unceasingly for, but which were now thrown into his very hands. 

"Do you understand me, Mr. Jerrold?"

"I hear you, sir, but really fear you are jesting at my expense. "

"_I never jest_, sir. It has been so long since I jested that the wordhas become meaningless to me. But, as I said, there is a condition--"

"Allow me to hear it, Mr. Stillinghast, " said Walter Jerrold, fearingat least it might be something dreadful and impossible. 

"I have, " said the old man, as if talking to himself, "I have gatheredtogether large sums. I scarcely know the exact amount myself. Thereis principal, interest, and compound interest, still heaping up thepile. I do not intend it shall be squabbled over when I am in thedust, or left open to the rapacity of lawyers. I shall dispose of myconcerns while I have reason and health, in such a way, by Heaven! asHeaven itself cannot interfere with my plans!"

Why did not that boastful, gold-withered, shrivelled up old man, pause?How dare he throw such defiance in the face of Almighty God over hisunrighteous gains!--yes, unrighteous gains, for mammon held them intrust. None had ever gone into the treasure-house of God to relievethe suffering, or aid the indignant. The few good acts of his life hadbeen _wrested_ from him, and the recollection of them filled him withbitterness instead of joy. 

"That is wise and prudent, sir, " observed Mr. Jerrold. 

"Of course it is. But now to the point. I will take you intopartnership on condition that you, as my successor, marry my niece, Helen Stillinghast, and promise on your honor to endeavor to overcomeher Catholic tendencies. She is not very strong in her faith, but as Iintend to leave her a considerable amount of property, I do not wish itto go to the support of a creed I detest--not one copper of it. Whatdo you say?"

"What amount of capital do you require, Mr. Stillinghast?"

"Whatever you have, sir. If it is much, well; if nothing, it makes nodifference: but, do you hesitate? I suppose the girl is an obstacle. "

"None in the least, sir. But I am overwhelmed by your generosity, sir;the advantages you offer place me in a position which it would havetaken me years of toil to attain, and I must confess, that I am quitethrown off my balance. Will you allow me at least a few hours to_think_?" said Walter Jerrold, highly excited. 

"Your caution is no discredit to you. I see that I am not deceived, "said Mr. Stillinghast, with a grim smile. "To-morrow evening I shallexpect an answer; at which time you can come to my house, and take yourtea, and look at my niece. "

"You will certainly see me then, sir, and hear my decision. " And theyoung man, with steps that scarcely felt the earth he trod on, hurriedaway, nor paused an instant, until he reached home. Mrs. Jerrold wasstanding on her marble carriage-step, just ready to get into herluxurious coach to take a drive. He whispered a word or two to her;the carriage was dismissed, and mother and son went up stairs toanalyze the sudden promise of fortune which had burst, like the bow ofheaven, around them. And together we will leave them--the worldlymother and the worldly son, to grow elate, and almost wild, at theprospect which Mr. Stillinghast's eccentric liberality had opened totheir view. At any rate, it was eligible in every respect, with, orwithout a matrimonial appendage; and Cedar Hall was secured to theJerrolds. 

Father Fabian, true to his promise, had visited old Mabel, and foundher so well disposed, and of such docile faith, that he had promised, as soon as he finished her general confession, to give her holybaptism. Two or three times a week he dropped in, and was much edifiedby the fervor and humility with which she received his instructions. It all seemed like a new world dawning around her, as if through thechinks of her lowly dwelling bright visions of heaven stole in togladen her, while her soul in its humble love traversed back and forthwith angel messengers. May had not seen her for some days, and nowwent to take her money to pay the rent of her poor cottage, andpurchase a supply of provisions. Mrs. Tabb had disposed of her fancyknitting, and sent her son early that morning with the proceeds, somesix or seven dollars, to May. Rejoicing in the power to do good, andleaving all her vexations and trials at home, she sought old Mabel'slowly dwelling, to impart and receive consolation. 

"That's Miss May! Here, Nellie, fetch that stool over thar for MissMay, " exclaimed the old woman, as soon as the door opened. "How isyou, honey?"

"I am quite well, Aunt Mabel. I think you are looking better, " repliedMay, sitting down beside her. 

"Oh, honey, it's blessed times with me now. I bin blind all my life; Inever see nuffin till now. Ah, honey, that good priest you send meaint like the buckra parsons I used to know. _He_ aint too proud tosit down by a poor nigger, an' take her lame hand in his'n, and rub itwith some sort of liniment he fotch. And thar's a bottle of wine heleft 'cause the doctor said I must have some. _He_ don't stand off asif he was afeard I would pizen him, and fling the gospel at me likestingy people throws bones to dogs. He makes me _feel_ that I'm achild of God as well as white folks, by _treating_ me like one, honey. "

"I'm very glad, Aunt Mabel, that you are comforted by Father Fabian'svisits, " said May, smiling at her unsophisticated statement. 

"Yes, he comforts me mightily, Miss May; and he talk so simple andbeautiful, that I understand every word he says. "

"What does Father Fabian tell you, Aunt Mabel?"

"He read one thing to me out of my ole Bible thar. You know I can'tread myself, Miss May, but I keep it 'cause it belonged to my missis. He asked me if I ever been baptized?' I told him, 'No, sir. ' Then heask me how I knew, and I tell him that too. Then he read what JesusChrist said, 'Unless you be born again, of water and the Holy Ghost, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven;' and, honey, it was enough, for me to know he said it. And then he told me about the power ourLord left with his Church to forgive sins, and I didn't dar doubt it, 'cause who can be so presumptuous as to contradict Jesus Christ when helays down the way and the truth? But oh, Miss May, when the day comesfor me to receive in my ole heart the dear Lord hisself--my poor oletired, aching heart--then I lived long enough, 'cause the glory of Godwill be with me. "

"It will be a most happy day, Aunt Mabel, " said May, dashing a tearfrom her cheek. "Now tell me something about our Immaculate Mother. Do you ever think of her?"

"Oh, Miss May! how can I think of _Jesus Christ_--how can I love him, without thinking of, and loving her? If I go down to the manger, tharshe is, watching over him, or holding him on her bosom; if I go throughSalem's marble city, honey, thar she is, close by her divine Son; if Igo to Calvary, what do I see?" said old Mabel, lifting her shrivelledhand, and dim eyes to heaven, while tears flowed over her swarthycheeks; "I see the Son of God, and the Son of Mary--Jesus Christ, hanging on the rough wood; his head, his hands, his feet, his side, dropping blood from the torn flesh. I see him dying for me; and downat his feet, his mother suffering with him. Ah, honey, it was a heavyburden she bore that dark day! The suffering of her son--her ownpangs--the sins of the world, for which both suffered, as it 'pears tome, was too much for one human heart. Oh, don't any body talk to me'bout not loving the Blessed Virgin! With one breath, I say, 'Havemercy on me, sweet Jesus!' with the other, I say, 'Pray for me, Virginmother, without sin!' It's the last thing I say at night, and thefirst I say in the morning. "

"But you don't worship the Blessed Virgin, Aunt Mabel?" said May, witha smile. 

"Worship her, honey? No! but God honored and loved her. SHE was themother of the dear Jesus; the 'mount of her sufferings was for him andus, and _I_ love her--_I_ honor her, and I go to her like a littlechild, and ask her to _pray for me_, and ask Him, who never refused herany thing, for what I want. "

"She is a tender friend--the refuge of sinners--the health of theweak--the help of Christians!" said May, astonished at old Mabel'slanguage; "and I am glad you have recourse to her. She will lead youalong until all is well with you. Shall I read to you now? FatherFabian requested me to read over the catechism to you. To-day I willread the instructions on Confession and Baptism. "

"I can't hear too much, Miss May, " said the old woman, leaning forwardto listen, with an eager and anxious expression. May read, andexplained, until she heard the cathedral bell toll the Angelus. It wastime for her to go; so kneeling down, she said with heartfelt devotionthe beautiful prayer, which celebrates so worthily and continually thewondrous mystery of the Incarnation. After which she left her pursewith old Mabel, containing the amount of her rent, which would be duethe next day, and promising to send her tea, sugar, and othernecessaries, called little Nellie in, and telling her to sit with hergrandmother, hurried away with a lighter heart than when she came out. She made her purchases on her way home, and left directions where theywere to be sent. After assuring herself that there would be nomistake, and obtaining a promise from the clerk who weighed thegroceries that they should be delivered in the course of an hour, sheproceeded homewards. She found Helen haughty and silent, evidentlydetermined to avoid all conversation on the event of the morning. Twoor three times May endeavored to expostulate with her, but foundherself rudely repulsed. 

That night, when Mr. Stillinghast came in, Helen officiously placed hischair in its usual corner, and handed him his slippers. May made twoor three observations to him in her own cheerful way, but he barelyreplied, and desired her not to interrupt him again. Her heartswelled, and her cheeks flushed, but she remembered the _aim of herlife_, and was silent. 

"Do you play on the piano?" said Mr. Stillinghast, abruptly, to Helen. 

"No, sir; I play on the harp, " she replied, amazed. 

"Do you play well?"

"My master thought so, sir. "

"I will order one for you to-morrow. I expect company to tea to-morrowevening, so put on any fandangos you have got. "

"Yes, sir, " she replied, while her face sparkled with delight; "I cannever thank you, sir. "

"I don't want you to, so be quiet, and do as I bid you, " he replied, roughly. 

"Poor Helen!" thought May; "poor--poor Helen! 'they seek after hersoul, ' and she, oh, weak one! _how_ will she resist without thesacraments?"

After Mr. Stillinghast retired, and they were left alone, Helen againopened a French novel to resume her reading, without exchanging a wordwith her cousin. Thoughts and emotions were flooding May's soul withimpulses she dared not resist. She must warn her. She must stretchout her arm, weak though it was, to save her. 

"Helen! dear Helen, listen to me!" she said, kneeling before her, andthrowing an arm around her neck, while she laid her hand on hercousin's. Helen, astonished, dropped her book, and remained passive, while May besought her by her hopes of heaven to accompany her the nextmorning to confession, or go alone, as both could not leave hometogether; then set before her in eloquent and soul-touching languagethe peril into which her prevarications were leading her. 

"You are mad, May. --decidedly mad; I intend to better my condition if Ican, and be a Catholic too. I am only conciliating this crusty oldwretch, who has us both in his power; then, you know, we may bring himaround after awhile, " she said, carelessly. 

"Oh, Helen! we _cannot_ serve two masters, even for a season; nor canwe handle pitch without becoming defiled. Believe me, this kind ofconciliation, as it is called, is fraught with evil, " said May, earnestly. 

"You are right about the pitch, May. He is truly as disagreeable aspitch; but, indeed, I will endeavor to handle him with gloves on, " saidHelen, laughing; "and I _won't_ go to confession until I am ready. "

"I alluded to my uncle's opinions and principles, for, Helen, he is anunbeliever!" said May, sighing, as she turned away to go up to bed. 

"Don't make any more scenes, little dear; really, you startle onealmost into spasms, " continued the heartless and beautiful one. "Ihave a very strong, high spirit, and a _will_; no iron or rock isharder. "

"Be warned, Helen! I have a will, too, and shall not cease to admonishyou--to warn you--to pray for you, until life ceases. "

"Pshaw! you are a fanatic. Good night, my dear. "

CHAPTER IX. 

TRIALS. 

When May awoke the next morning at her usual hour, she discovered, toher great surprise, that Helen was up and dressed; but how occupied shecould not conceive, until rising, she saw her sitting beside her opentrunk, with a lighted candle on a chair near her, looking over variousornaments and articles of dress which it contained. With a smallhand-glass she tried the effect of jet and pearls in her ears; of blackvelvet, or satin rosettes, in her soft wavy brown hair; of white crapeand illusion on her throat and wrists--glancing all the time with anexpression of pleased triumph at the reflection on her faultlesslybeautiful face. 

"Thank God, I am _not_ beautiful, " thought May, without a dash of envy. "I might--yes, I am so weak--I might worship myself instead of God. "But she said nothing, and performed her morning devotions, and made hermeditations as usual; then dressed quickly and neatly, and asked Helenif she was ready to go down. 

"I declare, May, you are a perfect little mouse. I did not know youwere up. Yes; I am ready now. I had quite forgotten that it was mymorning to make breakfast, " she replied, returning the things to thetrunk without the least possible hurry. 

"If you have any thing else to do, dear Helen; I mean--if--you have notsaid your prayers yet, I will go down and get things in train for you, "said May, timidly. 

"Thank you, May, but I keep my own conscience. I have no time for myprayers now--after breakfast will do, " she replied, carelessly. 

"Dear Helen, consider--"

"Dear May, I _won't_ consider, " she interrupted her, "for I am in sucha ferment of delight, what with the idea of company, and having a harponce more, I am really half wild, and could not pray for the life ofme--at least, as people _ought_ to pray. Oh, what different times weshall have! Really, May, I have an idea that I shall have our oldsavage dancing the Tarantula before to-morrow night, " she exclaimed, almost shrieking with laughter. 

"Helen, " began May, but checked herself, and burst into tears, whichshe endeavored to conceal--such tears as angels shed over thederelictions of the souls they are appointed to guard. Helen did notobserve them; giddy and selfish, she derived amusement from that whichwas luring her soul further away from God; and, while May wept over herperil, she thought only of the transient and fleeting enjoyments of thepresent. Gayly humming the _Tarantula_, she ran down to the kitchen, where she got breakfast, or, rather claimed the reputation of gettingit, by assisting May, who was really the practical cause of its beingmade at all tolerably. 

"What sort of gimcracks must one have for supper? I have invited afriend with whom I have business relations of some importance, to tea, and I wish to know what is usual, " said Mr. Stillinghast, addressingHelen, after breakfast. 

"I don't know, sir, " she said, looking down, with the half-frightenedexpression her face always wore when he addressed her; "peoplegenerally have cake, and other nice things. "

"Very well, make a supper to suit yourself, " said Mr. Stillinghast, tossing her a five dollar note. 

"We _ought_ to have silver forks, sir, " she suggested. 

"Silver devils! well, wait--" He went up to his chamber, and returnedwith a package, which he laid carefully on the table, saying, "Therethey are--be careful with them, " and went out without noticing May evenby a look, who felt the neglect more keenly than any trial he had evercaused her. To find that Helen, who hated as much as she fearedhim--whose life was so aimless and useless--preferred before her, caused sharp and bitter emotions. The flagrant injustice of histreatment galled, as much as his unmerited contempt humiliated her. For a little while her feelings bore her along on their rough butsilent torrent, while the hot winds of evil heated her veins with fire, and caused a hot flush to burn on either cheek. Ho! how exulted thetempter now; he had long laid in wait for her soul, and now, while itoscillated and wavered, how triumphant he was; how defiantly he liftedhis lurid brow towards the Almighty, while he spread out the snare forthat tempted, trembling one! but let us listen--for angels guard her, and watch, with sorrowful eyes, the dread conflict, while they pray forheavenly strength to sustain her--let us listen to the words which goup from that heart, so stilly and whispered that they scarcely reachour ears, while in Heaven they ring out clear, and sweet, andsorrowful, --"Sweet Jesus! merciful Jesus! suffering, calumniated dyingJesus, pity me--rescue me, " she murmured, folding her cold handstogether. Far away fled the powers of darkness, and left only thesweetness and peace of that potent deliverer, JESUS, in her soul. Oncemore the angels of her life looked up rejoicing, and spread their wingsof light about her way. _Without_, there had been an exterior calm;but it was like that gray, sad stillness, which mantles the storm. Nowthere was sunshine as well as calm. 

"What shall I do, May?" said Helen, who had been reading the paper. 

"We must try and make a nice supper, as my uncle wishes, Helen. I willmake waffles and tea-biscuits, if you wish it, and we can order cakefrom Delaro's. I think this, with chipped ham, tea, and coffee, willbe sufficient. "

"Thank you, May. I am so ignorant; if you will only do it all for me, I shall be so obliged to you. You know I shall have to dress, and ittakes me so long to arrange my hair gracefully. I wish, sometimes, that I had none--it is so troublesome, " said the selfish girl. 

"Yes, " said May, after a little while, "I will attend to it. My dressis such an every day affair, that I shall be able to have every thingready, to take the head of the table in time. "

"The head of the table! I rather expect Mr. Stillinghast intends me topreside. "

"Possibly. If my uncle wishes it, Helen, I will certainly resign it toyou; but, as I have always sat there, I shall continue to do so untilhe requests me to do otherwise, " said May, with becoming firmness. 

"Oh, of course! It is quite indifferent to me, my dear;--but what havewe here?" said Helen, taking up the bundle which Mr. Stillinghast hadlaid on the table. "See, May, what splendidly chased silver forks!How heavy they are; and see! here is a crest on them. "

"They are very old, I presume, " said May, examining them with interest. 

"As old as the hills! Where on earth has the old curmudgeon kept themall this time?" exclaimed Helen. "Do you think he bought, or inheritedthem?"

"Inherited them, doubtless. My mother had the same crest on hersilver. Our grandfather was an Englishman of good lineage; but see, Helen, they require a good cleansing and rubbing. I will go to massnow, after which I will attend to your commissions. While I am out, you had better get down the old china, which you will find on thatcloset shelf, with some cut glass goblets. You can wash them up withthe breakfast things; or, if you would rather wait until I return, Iwill assist you, " said May. 

"Oh, no! I like such work; but, May, could we not hunt up your oldmaummy, if she is not too old, to come and wait?" asked Helen. 

"She died two years ago, Helen, " said May, turning away her head with aquivering lip. 

"How unfortunate! But, May, have you any fine table linen?"

"Yes; a number of fine damask tablecloths. "

"And napkins?"

"None. "

"Thank fortune, I have some four dozen East India napkins; they willlook quite splendid on the table this evening. But hurry on, May, Iwish to clear up to make room for my harp; I expect it every moment. "

That evening, if Mr. Stillinghast had looked around him, he wouldscarcely have recognized the sitting-room as the one he had left in themorning. The round table, just large enough to seat four comfortably, was elegantly spread with fine white damask, and crimson and old goldchina, of an antique and elegant pattern; sparkling cut glass, andsilver. Two wax candles burned in the old-fashioned silver_candelabras_ in the centre, on each side of which stood two clustersof geranium leaves and winter roses, arranged in small rich vases. Thegrate looked resplendent, and a harp, of a magnificent pattern, heavilycarved and gilded, stood in a conspicuous place. Helen lookedexquisitely lovely. Her dress was the perfection of good taste, andwell did its elaborate simplicity suit her style of beauty. A singlewhite rose, and a few geranium leaves in her hair, with a pearl and jetbrooch, which fastened the velvet around her throat, were the onlyornaments she wore. But Mr. Stillinghast came in growling and loweringas usual, and without noticing any one, or any thing, threw himself inhis arm-chair, which May had taken care should be in its place; drewoff his boots, and replaced them with the soft warm slippers she hadworked for him some months before; then called for the evening paper, and was soon immersed in the news from Europe, and the rise and fall ofstocks. About a quarter of an hour afterwards the front door-bellrung, and May, who happened to be in the hall, went to admit thevisitor, who was no other than Mr. Jerrold. He bowed courteously, and"presumed he had the pleasure of speaking to Miss Stillinghast?"

"My name is May Brooke, " said May, with one of her clear smiles. 

"And mine is Jerrold--Walter Jerrold; not so harmonious as yours, certainly!" he replied, throwing off the large Spanish cloak which wasfolded gracefully around him. 

"Life would be a sad monotone if every thing in creation resembled eachother; there would be no harmony. But walk in, Mr. Jerrold, my uncleexpects you, " said May, throwing open the door. 

"How are you, sir?" said Mr. Stillinghast, turning his head, but notrising. "My niece, Helen Stillinghast. Take a chair. " He did notintroduce May, or notice her, except by a frown. Feeling the tearsrush to her eyes at this new mark of her uncle's displeasure, sheflitted back to the kitchen, and commenced operations with her waffleirons. While engaged with her domestic preparations, she heard thegay, manly voice of Mr. Jerrold, in an animated conversation withHelen, who now, in her right element, laughed and talked incessantly. Again welled up the bitter fountain in her heart, but that talismanicword dispersed it, and it was gone, like spray melting on the sunnyshores of the sea. When she placed the supper on the table, she movedaround with such calm self-possession--such an airy, light motion ofmodest grace, that Walter Jerrold, who had seen much of the world, andlived in the best company, was struck by the anomaly which combined somuch real grace with what, he considered, domestic drudgery. And May'sappearance justified his remarks. A dark, rich merino dress; a small, finely embroidered collar, with cuffs of the same; a breast-knot ofcrimson and black ribbon; and her waving, glossy hair, falling in broadbands on her fair cheeks, and gathered up at the back of her head, beneath a jet comb, completed her attire. It was her usual holidaydress, and did not embarrass her. Her eyes looked larger, brighter, and darker than usual, and a faint tinge of rose stole through thetransparent fairness of her cheeks. But, with all, May was no beautyin the ordinary acceptance of the term. She was one of those raremortals who steal into the soul like a pleasant, beneficent idea, andsatisfy its longings with something calmer and holier than mere worldlyfriendship; for there was that within May's soul--the hidden mystery offaith and religion--which, like a lamp in a vase of alabaster, shoneout from her countenance with an influence which none could withstand;it won--it led--it blessed those who yielded to its power. Shepresided at the head of the table that evening with quiet grace, andattempted once or twice to converse with her uncle, but his looks andreplies were so harsh that she turned to Helen and Mr. Jerrold, and ina short time found herself amused at his _persiflage_ and Helen'srepartees. 

"I have writing to do, Jerrold, " said Mr. Stillinghast, after tea; "andif you will excuse me, I will go up to my room. You can drop in, andlook over those papers before you go. However, stay as late as it isagreeable for you to do so. " Walter Jerrold understood him. Alreadycaptivated by Helen's beauty and worldliness, his decision was made. 

Very soon was heard through the silent mansion strains of music, whichstartled the echoes in its silent and deserted rooms, accompanied by avoice of such thrilling sweetness and volume of tone, that the solitaryold man, in his cold and cheerless apartment, threw down his pen, andsprung to his feet, to listen. It was Helen singing wild cavatinasfrom _Norma_, and solos from _Der Freischutz_, and looking sosplendidly beautiful the while, that Walter Jerrold thought with prideand exultation of introducing so much loveliness to the world as hisbride. May was silent, and wondered at it all, and _felt_, rather thanreasoned that somehow Helen was bartering away her eternal interestsfor gain, and that these scenes were integral parts of the ruinousscheme. 

So she was not much surprised when Mr. Jerrold, on taking leave, askedpermission to call the next day with his mother; to which Helenassented graciously, and May, having no decided reason to do otherwise, said, "they would be pleased to see Mrs. Jerrold. "

"Where shall I find Mr. Stillinghast, Miss Brooke?"

"In the room, sir, just at the head of the staircase. It is the firstdoor, a little to the left. "

"Thank you. Good night, again, fair ladies, " he said, bounding up thesteps. 

"Come in, " said the voice of Mr. Stillinghast, in answer to his lowtapping. 

"Aha! well?"

"Have you the necessary papers ready, sir?" inquired the young man, eagerly. 

"Here they are. Are you ready to sign them?"

"This moment, sir. Give me the pen. "

"No, sir; read them first. I'll have no such head-over-heels doings inany transactions in which I am concerned. Here they are!" said Mr. Stillinghast, in his saturnine, rough way. 

Walter Jerrold read the papers, which were worded according to thestrictest legal forms, slowly and attentively, and felt more thansatisfied. 

"All right, Mr. Stillinghast. 'Faith, sir, your niece requires nogolden chains to her chariot. She is the most beautiful creature Iever beheld--accomplished, and elegant in form and manners. Give methe pen!" he said, earnestly, as he spread out the parchment, andprepared to sign his name thereto. 

"Clouds are beautiful with the sunshine on them, " said the old man, with a sneer; "so is a mirage in the desert; so are the apples on theshores of the Dead Sea. But she is yours. You'll find no trouble inwinning her, even at the sacrifice of her creed. She is of the earthearthy, and will willingly escape from such a miserable home as this. "

"Mr. Stillinghast, I do not wish to feel that this is quite a _barter_. Your niece would grace a throne, and I am vain enough to think that Ihave qualities which may win her regard. "

"Bosh! fool! All mankind are fools! But leave me--goodnight. Makeyour arrangements to move to my counting-house to-morrow. "

"My fortune is made. The 'Cedars' will not pass into other hands, "thought Walter Jerrold, as he left the house. 

The next day May went to see old Mabel, who was quite sick; and whileshe was gone, Mrs. Jerrold called with her son. The proud, worldlywoman, was enchanted with the elegance and beauty of Helen, and, ereshe left her, had engaged her in a round of engagements; soirées--theopera, and dinner parties, rung like music in Helen's ears, who, halfwild with joy, could scarcely repress her emotions from breaking out insome ill-bred expressions of delight. Without a moment's reflection, she consented to attend St. Paul's Church the next Sunday morning, ateleven o'clock, and hear the well-meaning Protestant clergyman whoofficiated there. "You will see the best people in town there; it isconsidered one of the most elegant congregations in the city. " By the_best_ people, Mrs. Jerrold meant the leaders of the town, and had notthe remotest idea that she was holding out a false inducement, orsaying any thing at all incompatible with the spirit of Christianity. 

"I will call for you in my carriage, Miss Stillinghast, with Walter, "continued the lady, touching Helen's cheek with her lips. 

And after this Helen quite withdrew herself from the domestic cares ofthe house to attend exclusively to her toilette--her music--her walksand drives with Jerrold, and visits to his mother. Mr. Stillinghastseemed not to observe what was going on, and May, anxious to shield herfrom his displeasure, which she supposed would be excited by thisneglect, went on in her old routine, as if nothing had ever occurred tointerrupt it. Thus weeks rolled by, and Helen was the affianced wifeof Walter Jerrold; forgetful of the demands of religion, and turning adeaf ear to the whispers of conscience, and a cold, proud eye on thepractical works of faith; and scornfully hushing May's expostulations, she thought only of the realization of her ambitious and worldlydreams, and plunged into the gayeties of life with a zest worthy of abetter cause. 

May, all this time, was cheerfully climbing step by step; sometimesfainting--sometimes stumbling--sometimes falling, but ever rising withrenewed strength up the steep and narrow way of Calvary. Her uncle'sdistrustful manner--his harsh language--his angry looks, with Helen'sapparent apostasy, and haughty demeanor, were trials which required theconstant replenishing of grace in her soul, to bear with patience. ButFather Fabian bid her to be of good cheer; the divine sacraments of theChurch strengthened and consoled her by their sweet and mighty power;and like waters returning cool and purified to their source, or dewsgently falling to the earth from which they had risen, in blessing andrefreshment, her daily visits to old Mabel, so full of charity andgood-will, filled her with indescribable happiness. 

Mrs. Jerrold insisted on furnishing Helen's _trousseau_, while she wasoccupied every day in selecting expensive furniture for a house heruncle had settled on her, with permission to furnish it without regardto cost, on condition that she was married by a Protestant minister. She was telling May, with great glee and pride, about her purchases, when she suddenly paused, and exclaimed, "You need not look so grave, May. I presume my marriage will be aslegal and respectable as if the ceremony was performed by a priest. "

"As legal as any other civil rite. But, Helen, you know that theChurch acknowledges no such marriages amongst her children. Herprecepts teach that marriage, to be legal, must also be sacramental. It _is_ a sacrament; one which is held in high esteem and respect bythe Church, and no Catholic can contract it otherwise, without censure. In case you persist, your marriage will not be recognized by the Churchas valid, or your offspring legitimate. "

"I shall have a great many to keep me in countenance, " replied Helen, coldly. "I have no idea of submitting to every thing; Jerrold wouldnot, I am sure, consent to being married by a Catholic priest, and I donot intend to thwart him, as I consider it a matter of very littleimportance. "

"Helen, listen to me. You must listen to me. It shall be the lasttime, if you will only be patient. There is an hour coming, if youpersist in your present course, when you will wish you had never beenborn; an hour when all human aid must fail, and all human interests andsplendor drop away from you like rotten rags; when your soul, affrighted and shrinking, will go forth, obeying the inexorable laws, of the Creator, to meet its Almighty Judge. When the shadows will falldarkly around your way, Helen, and phantoms of darkness lie in wait, until the irrevocable sentence is spoken, which will consign you toutter woe; when, stripped of all, you will stand shivering and _alone_before an awful tribunal, to give evidence against _yourself_. Oh, Helen! dear Helen! _how_ will it be with you then? _how_ will youescape, oh faithless daughter of the Church!"

"May!" cried Helen, while her face grew deadly white, and she graspedher cousin's arm; "hush! how _dare_ you speak thus to me? It is cruel!Henceforth utter no such language to me while we both live. If I am onthe brink of perdition, _I_ alone am responsible for my acts--not you. "

"I will try to obey you, Helen, so far; but I _will_ pray for you--I_will_ do penance for you--I _will_ offer frequent communions foryou--I _will_ intercede with our tender and Immaculate Mother for you. I will fly to Calvary, and at the foot of the cross beseech oursuffering Jesus, by his bitter passion and death to have mercy on you. You cannot stop me--you cannot hinder me in this, for, oh Helen! it isan awful thing to see a soul tearing off its baptismal robe, tramplingunderfoot the seals of the Church, and rushing away from her fold ofsafety to eternal--eternal woe!" cried May, wringing her hands, whilebig tears rolled over her face. 

Helen turned away to brush off a single tear that moistened her eyes, but through it she saw the glitter of a diamond bracelet, which WalterJerrold had just sent her, with a bouquet of hot-house flowers--allrare and costly, and the poor tear was dashed off with impatience, anda haughty curl of the lip. 

"You act finely, May, but drop all this, and tell me what you will wearat my bridal, " said Helen, clasping the bracelet on her arm, to try itseffect. 

"I shall not be there, Helen. I cannot even wish you joy, for therecan no joy ever come in disobeying the Church, whose voice is the voiceof God himself. "

"As you please, " she replied, coldly; "but croak no more to-night. Youare like a bird of ill-omen to me. "

May sighed, and retired to her oratory, to say her night prayers. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE WARNING. 

One morning Mr. Stillinghast was sitting alone in his counting-room, when Michael, the porter, came in, and informed him that a man wishedto speak to him. 

"Tell him to come in, " he replied, moodily. 

"Here he is, sir, " said Michael, returning in a few minutes with a man, who had a saw slung over his arm. 

"What is your business with me?" said Mr. Stillinghast. 

"And didn't your honor sind afther me?"

"I never heard of you in my life before, " he stormed. 

"And then, sir, you may blame the _ommadhauns_ that sent me; for, bythis and by that, they tould me at the wood-yard, foreninst, that yourhonor was inquiring for me, " replied the man, slinging his saw up overhis shoulder. 

"At the wood-yard? I remember; but it is too late, now--it makes nodifference, " said Mr. Stillinghast, speaking slowly, and frowning. 

"I'd have come before, only the day afther the young lady took me tosaw wood for the ould nagur, I got the pleurisy, and didn't lave my bedthese five weeks, " said the man, lingering about the door. 

"Come in here, and close the door, " said Mr. Stillinghast, while hisstern, forbidding countenance wore a strange look of anxiety; "do youremember the young lady; and can you direct me to the place where yousawed the wood?"

"Oh, yes, your honor. I shall never forget her to my dying day. Shewas a little, bright-eyed lady, with a smile of an angel on her, bydad!"

"May, " muttered the old man, "there is only one May. But I have areason, " he said, turning to the man, "for wishing to see this oldwoman; can you conduct me to the place?"

"I'm at your service intirely, sir. It's a good stretch, though, " saidthe man, who looked weak from his recent illness. 

"Is it near an omnibus route?"

"Yes, your honor, it is close by where they stop. You'll not have towalk far. "

"Leave your saw here, then, and let us go. I have no time to spare onwalks, " said Mr. Stillinghast, in his peremptory way. His real object, however, was not so much to save time, as to afford the man anopportunity to avoid a long and fatiguing walk. "Tell Mr. Jerrold Iwill be back in the course of an hour, " he said to Michael, as hepassed out. 

"Very well, " replied Michael, heaving, with Titan strength, a bale onthe truck; "and there goes a pair of 'em. My boss can afford to walkwith a poor wood-sawyer; he looks like one hisself, and it's hard totell 'tother from which;" and he planted his brawny hands on histhighs, and looked after them, with a broad smile on his honestcountenance, until they got into the omnibus, and were whirled out ofsight. At the _depôt_, which is in the northern part of the city, theygot out, and the two men pursued their way in silence. It was one ofthose cold, but calm, bright days in winter, when the very air seemsfilled with silent ripples of gladness; when the sunshine rests like aglory on the leafless trees, and bright-eyed robins chirp and peck themoss, as they hop from bough to bough; when the light of heaven is soover all, that even the dun-colored earth, the decayed leaves androtten branches, which the autumn blast has laid low, look beautiful, and seem to whisper _resurgam_; when a cold, bracing wind sends thewarm blood bounding through our hearts--tinting our cheeks, and warmingour extremities, until we bless it, as we do the strong hand whichleads us in childhood; and we listen, with docile tenderness, to itsteachings, for it tells with pathos, of suffering in the hovels of thepoor, and want, and poverty, and bids us thither like a winged angel. Down, beneath the rustic bridge, boys were shouting and skating on thefrozen stream, their laughter echoing like music through the old woods;anon, the sharp crack of rifle, or the distant barking of dogs, rung onthe still air, while the bells of the city, and the hum rising up fromits crowded streets, blending with the clear echoes, made a concert ofmerry and harmonious sounds. Mr. Stillinghast paused on a knoll, andlooked around him. There lay the rolling country, with its undulationsof hill and vale, all interspersed, and adorned with picturesquecottages and elegant villas. Towards the east, up rose the splendidcity, with up-hill and down-hill streets; its marble monuments, commemorative of great men and great deeds; its magnificent domes, raised in honor of the Most High God; its lofty towers, its princelymansions; while far beyond, stretching to the verge of the horizon, slumbered the quiet and beautiful bay, sparkling like a sea of_ultramarine_ and diamonds, over whose waters hundreds of sails werehovering like white sea-fowl. 

Towards the north-western boundary of the city, he saw the dark, massive founderies and manufactories, which, from theirpalatial-looking walls, sent out the never-ceasing clang of labor, andthe tireless song of steam, to which thousands of stout arms and brawnysinews kept time. And far beyond these, out on the quiet hills, thescene terminated in a Marble City, [1] where, beneath trees of centuriesgrowth, its inhabitants slumber silently through the long, cold nightof death, until the revivifying beams of the resurrection day shalldawn on the earth-mantle that wraps their clay. But over all shone theglad beauty of the day. It poured down its effulgence alike on thecity of the dead and the city of the living! Mr. Stillinghast had notlooked on the like for years, long, dusty, dreary years; and he felt atingling in his heart--a presence of banished memories, an expansion ofsoul, which softened and silenced him, while gradually it lifted fromhis countenance the harsh, ugly mask he usually wore. 

"Here we are, " said the man, pointing to old Mabel's cottage; "this isthe place. "

Then it occurred to Mr. Stillinghast, for the first time, that he hadcome there without any particular object in view--he had obeyed animpulse which he did not pause to analyze, and now, somewhatembarrassed he stood still, uncertain what to do. 

"You may return, " he said to the man, to whom he gave a dollar; "thiswill pay you for the time you have lost. " The man thanked him, andwent his way, rejoicing in the reward of such pleasant and easy labor. 

"Why not go in?" he murmured, "I am here on a fool's errand, after all. But why not enter? If this old beggar is so destitute, I can leave hersomething to buy a loaf; but what business is it of mine? A plague onit all! What do I here--_why_ are you here, Mark Stillinghast?" Thenhe opened the door very softly, and, as he did so, he heard these wordsrepeated in a clear, sweet voice, --"_For what shall it profit a man, ifhe gains the whole world, and lose his own soul!_" then he saw Mayseated beside the old negro, reading from some pious, instructive book, of Christian doctrine. And those words came ringing down into his soullike the blast of ten thousand trumpets! He staggered back; his old, withered cheek, grew pallid, and he turned away and fled--but theypursued him. "Profit--gain--loss. Profit--gain--loss. Profit--gain--loss. I understand them!" he gasped. "_I_ have heapedup gains; of earthly profit I have my share; and now, at the eleventhhour, it is summed up, and what is it--yes, what is it? IT IS LOSS. For all that is mortal, I have toiled my best hours away; for all thatis _immortal_, not one hour have I spared. It is loss--loss--eternalloss. " And so he went on muttering--back to his den in the city, wherethe leaden waves of business again came surging, breast high, aroundhim; but through the dull, heavy sounds, the warning still rung, likedistant knells, through his soul. 

On his homeward way that night, the farther he receded from the noiseof the city, the more it distinctly sounded, with its requiem wail, through the dreary chambers of his heart; and, somehow, he suddenlyremembered, as he paused to rest, that it was on this very spot that hehad seen Father Fabian administering the last rites of the church to adying penitent; and he trembled, and hurried on, until he came to hisown door. May was sitting up alone for him; and when she opened thedoor, and the rays from the hall lamp fell on his features, she sawthat he looked ill and weary. 

"Let me assist you, dear uncle, " said May, taking his hat and returningto help him draw off his coat. "I fear you are not well. "

"It is very cold, " he replied, shivering, and yielding to her wishes. 

"You will soon feel better, sir; see what a nice fire here is--and Ihave a piping-hot cup of tea and hot muffins for your supper. "

"May Brooke, " said the strange old man, while he laid his cold, heavyhand on her shoulder, "stop; answer the questions I shall ask you, truly and honestly. "

"I will endeavor to do so, sir, " replied May, lifting her clear, brighteyes to his. 

"You can, and _must_. What object have you in providing for that oldnegro woman, on the outskirts of the city?"

"I pity her, sir, because she is poor and helpless, and do it, I hope, for the love of God, " she said, amazed, but quiet. 

"Very well. And now, for the love of God, answer _this_, " he said, with anxiety; "tell me _how_, you provide for her--_how_ you get meansto buy wood and necessaries?"

"Dear uncle, I am sorry you have found it out. I do not like to speakof it--indeed, I would prefer not--it seems--so--yes--it seems likeboasting, or talking too much about myself, " said May, while her cheeksflushed crimson. 

"Go on; I will know!" he said, harshly. 

"Yes, sir. I earn a trifle every two or three weeks by knitting fancyarticles, which Mrs. Tabb on C---- Street, disposes of for me--"

"And then--"

"And then, sir, I take care of old Mabel with the proceeds; but please, dear, dear uncle, do not forbid me to continue doing so; pray allow methe privilege of earning a trifle for her benefit while she lives; andthen, sir, _never_--never speak of it to me or any one else, afterthis, " she implored. 

"I shall not hinder you, child, " said Mr. Stillinghast, repressing agroan of anguish which struggled up from his heart. They went togetherinto the sitting-room; and May spread his supper before him, but heonly drank his tea, and pushing his plate away, came and sat in hisarmchair beside the fire. 

"You have taken nothing, sir; pray try and eat this, it is very nice. "

"I have such an infernal singing in my ears, that I cannot eat. I canhardly see. Ding, dong--ding, dong. Great Lord! if this should beeternal!" he exclaimed, forgetting the presence of May. 

"You are not well, sir. Sit here near the fire; put your feet uponthis cushion, so that the soles will be towards the fire, and while yousmoke, I will read the paper to you, " said May. 

"For what?" he asked, turning his fierce, gray eyes upon her. 

"Because you are not well, sir, " she said, looking calmly into them. 

"Do you know that I have made my will, --cut you off with a few paltrydollars, not enough to feed you, and left that Helen--thattrifler--that waif, a princely fortune?" he asked, savagely. 

"You have a right, sir, to do as you please with your own. You havesheltered, schooled, and fed me--I have no right to expect more, " shesaid, gently. 

"And if I should be sick--die--what then?" he asked, impatiently. 

"Dear uncle, you alarm me. Do you feel ill? If so, oh, dearest uncle, attend first of all to your eternal concerns--make your peace with Godwhile it is yet day, and enter into that fold whose Shepherd is JesusChrist; where one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism reign!" exclaimed May, grasping his hand. 

"Be silent, you incorrigible papist; what need is there of flying offat such a tangent?" said Mr. Stillinghast, with a grim smile; "I didnot mean _that_, but what will become of you when I am dead?"

"I have a head, sir, and hands, and great faith in Him, who haspromised to be a father to the orphan. I shall never want. In honestexertion I shall be happy and content, " she said, earnestly. 

"And you do not regret or envy the fortune?

"Not on my own account, sir. "

"On whose, then?"

"There are many, sir, who might be benefited by it, if properlyapplied. I think, _now_, if I had a fortune, I could do a great dealof good with it. "

"You'd do harm, May Brooke--you'd do harm. You'd squander it--you'dencourage pauperism, and worthlessness, and beggary!" he burst out. 

"I shall never have it to do good or evil with, uncle; but if I had, Iwould _endeavor_, for God's sake, to bestow it where it was needed; andbecause it would be offered for the love of Him, my works would notfall useless or fruitless to the earth. HE would bless and aid me. "

"Profit--gain--loss, " again muttered the old man. "But, as you willnever inherit a fortune, I suppose your good intentions must suffice. "

"Yes, sir, for the present. "

"And, now that you have nothing to expect from me, of course you willfeel quite independent of me and my wishes. If I should be ill, Isuppose you'd take off and leave me to my fate, " he said, bitterly. 

"No, sir, " she said, calmly; "but words and professions are meresentences written in sand--the first wave washes them out. I don'twant a fortune. I would not have gold, as I live, sir, except as theminister of my good purposes, the slave on which I could set my heel, unless it served me to lay up treasure in heaven. And should you beill, dear uncle, I trust you will find no disposition in me to shrinkfrom my duty. "

"There it is again, " he murmured, as he got up, and walked to and fro. "Profit--loss--gain. Give me my candle; I must go to bed--I feel veryweary and tired. "

"Shall I get anything for you, sir?"

"No, " he replied. 

"I shall wait for Helen, sir, and if you want anything, just rap on thefloor, or call, and I will come up instantly. "

"Go to bed--go to bed, child, " he said, in his old, rough way, as hewent out into the hall to go up to his room. 

[1] Greenmount Cemetery. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE MIDNIGHT MESSENGER. 

May listened, and heard Mr. Stillinghast moving to and fro in his roomwith slow and regular footsteps for a while, then all was silent, andshe supposed he had gone to bed. Still waiting for Helen, she recitedthe rosary for his conversion. She knew that all things are possiblewith Almighty God, and that dear to him, and precious in his sight, isthe conversion of sinners. She also knew that Jesus Christ ever turnsa propitious ear to the intercession of his Immaculate Mother, and itwas with tender confidence, and earnest faith, that she implored her toobtain from her Divine Son the conversion of her uncle. At last acarriage stopped, and May heard Helen's voice at the door conversinggayly with Walter Jerrold. She wrapped her shawl about her, and wentout to admit her. She sprang into the hall, singing wild thrills from_Lucia de Lammermoor_, and without stopping, flew to her harp, and ranher fingers over the strings, preluding brilliantly, "Oh, May, you should have been there--the most divine opera! Sontagsung like an angel. "

"Dear Helen, " said May, interrupting her, and laying her hand on herarm, "don't! you will disturb Uncle Stillinghast; he is not well. "

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Helen, turning her face towards her, while a gleam of almost ferocious pleasure shone in her eyes. "Oh, youdon't say so! Is he very sick?"

"A slight cold, I believe; at any rate, do not let us disturb him, "said May, surprised and shocked at her evident pleasure. 

"What nonsense!" cried Helen, laughing hysterically; "he'll live untilyou and I are both dead, May. He's as tough as gutta percha. But, would it not be a nice thing if he'd pop off suddenly, and leave us hismoney?"

"Do not say _us_, Helen. I expect nothing, and desire nothing. As foryou, be satisfied; you are handsomely provided for. "

"I know it; I know it. _I have read the will_!" exulted Helen. 

"_Read the will_, Helen! How? When?"

"Oh, I did not mean _that_ exactly, " said Helen, much confused; "youreally take me up so quick, that it is terrible. I should have saidthat Walter told me something of the old man's intentions. "

"May it be blessed to you, Helen, come when it will; but while _he_lives, let his generous intentions in your favor purchase at _least_your respect, " said May, in a tone of bitter reproof, for at the momentshe recollected Helen's threat some weeks before to get into heruncle's chamber, if possible, and she feared that she had accomplishedher object at the expense of all that was honorable in feeling, andjust in principle. 

"May, you won't say anything--about--about what I just blundered outconcerning the--" said Helen, confused and stammering. 

"No, Helen; I have nothing to say. It was natural, though notdelicate, for Mr. Jerrold to impart such information to you. No doubthe thought it would enhance your happiness, " said May, settling herselfin her uncle's chair. 

"That's a good May. Oh, May, if you were not such a little fanatic howI should love you, " said Helen, stooping over to kiss May's forehead;but she put up her hand, and the kiss fell on the tips of her fingers. But her very indignation, although just, humbled her, for with a flashof thought, she was in Gethsemane, and saw the meek and Divine Jesusreceive the kiss of Judas. "Why, then, " she thought, "should _I_shrink back from one who needs my pity more than my hate?"

"I shall sit up a little longer, Helen. I feel quite uneasy aboutUncle Stillinghast. Good night, " she said, holding out her hand toHelen. 

"What a curious little one you are, May, " said Helen, holding the tinyhand a moment in her own; "but do come up soon, for really I am afraidto be up there alone. "

And Helen went up to their chamber, and closed the door. She wasalone, and had inadvertently placed her candle on May's table beforethe old Spanish crucifix. A small circle of light was thrown aroundit, from the midst of which the sorrowful face, in its depicted agonyof blood and tears, and the measure of a world's woe stamped on itsdivine lineaments, looked on her. Terrified and silent, she stoodgazing on it--her hands clasped--her lips apart, and trembling. Thecrown of thorns--the transfixed hands and feet, from which the bloodseemed flowing--the wounded side--the sorrowful eyes, appealed to her. "For thee!" whispered the angel conscience; "it was all for thee!--thisignominy--this suffering--this death--oh, erring one! It was all forthee Divine Jesus assumed the anguish and bitterness of the cross! Oh, wanderer! why add new thorns to that awful crown of agony? Why insultthe son of God, who suffers for you, by your derelictions and betrayal?"

Stricken and afraid, she would have fled from the spot, but she couldnot move; her temples throbbed and her limbs trembled, when, liftingher eyes, she beheld a portrait of the mother of Sorrows, whosecountenance, sublime in its blended tenderness and grief, seemed tolook down with pity on her. She sunk weeping to the floor, andmurmured, "Intercede for me, oh, Lady of Sorrows! I have wounded thyDivine Son by my transgressions; I fear to approach Him, who is myterrible Judge; pity me, then, that I may not become utterly castaway!" Then she wept softly, and it seemed that, in this hour of keenrepentance, the errors of the past would be atoned for--that a new lifewould dawn around her; that in prodigal's attire of repentance andtears, she would return humbly to her Father's house. But the spiritof the world had wound its deadly fetters too closely around her; thetime of her return and purification, and welcome--if it ever came, wasveiled in the future; but that passionate soul-felt appeal to theRefuge of Sinners was registered where it would return in benedictionswhen the soul weary of its wanderings, sought for forgiveness andpeace--if it ever did. And, after all, ere sleep visited her eyelids, she was plunged again in plans of petty ambition, vanity, and the prideof life, --so impotent is the human heart, unsupported by the grace ofGod. 

Twelve o'clock chimed from the old French clock over the mantel, andMay, all unconscious of Helen's struggle with conscience, still waitedto hear any sound that might come from Mr. Stillinghast's chamber: buteverything remained quiet, and she was wrapping her shawl around her togo up to bed, when she thought she heard a groan--then footsteps, followed by a peculiar muffled sound. In a moment she was in the hall, where she heard it more distinctly, and springing up the staircase, rushed into her uncle's room. By some rare forgetfulness, orbewilderment, he had left his door unfastened. The candle was stillburning, and May saw him lying on the floor, where he had fallen in hisendeavor to reach the door to call for assistance; his face purple andswollen, and his breath gurgling up with a choking, spasmodic sound. 

"Great God, help me!" cried May, throwing up her arms wildly. "He willdie before I can obtain help!" But she was not the one to standlamenting when aught was to be done, so, collecting her scatteredsenses, she bethought herself of the watchman, who was just at thatmoment crying the hour at the corner. She flew down, unlocked thehall-door, and springing out into the freezing mist and darkness, shefound him, seized his hand, and told her story. "Go, for God's sake!for the nearest doctor; do not delay an instant. "

"Who are you, you wild witch, grabbing a fellow like a cat! Who areyou?" cried the watchman, shaking her off. 

"I am the niece of old Mark Stillinghast. He is dying, I fear, " shecried, wringing her hands. 

"Zounds! the old man dying! Yes, I'll go directly, " said the watchman, moving off. He had been on the beat twenty years, and felt anindividual interest in all those whose property and lives he guarded. Then May, thankful for his promptness, remembered to have heard thatice applications to the head were good in cases like this, and rushingback into the yard, she groped her way to the rain-barrel, and stoopingover, seized the jagged edges of the ice, which she had broken thatvery day, and tearing it away from the sides, hastened back, and up tothe chamber of death, with her prize in her bleeding hands. Strippinga case from a pillow, she threw in the ice--pounded it with thetongs--shook it together, and lifting up her uncle's insensible head, laid the icy pillow under it, and gathered the ends over his forehead, as well as she could. Then she chafed his hands, exclaiming all thetime, "Merciful Jesus, pity him! Merciful Jesus, help me, andstrengthen me!" But his breathing became more and more difficult, andhis limbs began to be agitated with horrible convulsions. A suddenthought suggested itself. She untied her silk apron, tore off thestrings--ripped up the sleeve of Mr. Stillinghast's shirt, and woundthe ribbon tightly around his arm above the elbow; and while waitingfor the vein to swell, she took a small penknife from her pocket, andopened the blade--it was thin, keen, and pointed. She had found itamong her father's papers years ago, and kept it about her to scrapethe points of her ivory knitting-needles. In another moment, invokingthe aid of Heaven, she had made an incision in the vein. A few blackdrops of blood trickled down--then more; then fast and faster flowedthe dark stream over her dress, on the floor, for she could notmove--her strength was ebbing away. Presently the brain of thestricken man, relieved of the pressure on it, began to resume itsfunctions; the spasms and convulsions ceased, and a low moan escapedhis lips. At that moment the watchman, accompanied by a physician, entered the room, and May remembered nothing more. 

CHAPTER XII. 

REPENTANCE. 

When May recovered, she looked around her with an alarmed andbewildered feeling. The darkened, tossed-up room; the strangerwatching beside her; the pale, silent form on the bed, so motionlessthat the bed-clothes had settled around it like a winding-sheet, wereall so much like the continuation of a dreadful dream, that sheshuddered, and lifted herself up on her elbow. 

"You are better?" inquired a kind voice. 

"Have I been ill?" she asked. 

"Not ill, exactly, " replied the doctor; "you fainted just as I came inwith the watchman to your assistance. " Then she remembered it all. 

"How is my uncle now, sir?" said May, sitting up, and with a modestblush gathering up the masses of dark hair which had fallen from hercomb. 

"He is doing well now. He is indebted to your energy and presence ofmind for his life, " said the doctor. 

"Oh, thank God! thank God, that he is better! Do you think, sir, thathe will recover?"

"He may, but it is doubtful. I shall not be able to decide until heawakes. Meanwhile, lady, lie down, and rest. I will watch. "

"I could not sleep, sir; if I could, I would obey your directions; butI will rest my head on the sofa here, that I may be better able toattend to my duties to-day, " said May, in her earnest, matter-of-factsort of way. And the doctor, a young man who was rising rapidly in hisprofession--a son of the people, who, through difficulties and ruggedobstacles, and calumny and opposition, had emerged purified, andconscious of power from it all, and attained an honorable positionprofessionally and socially, looked at that fragile form, and paidhomage to the right-thinking and right-acting spirit it contained. Herconduct had been heroic, noble, and evinced so much strength ofcharacter that even he, accustomed to phenomena, mental and physical, wondered. He knew not _whence_ she derived her strength; he had noidea of that divine charity which gives Titan power to the weak, andconsiders life itself of little worth when it does battle for thesalvation of souls. It was a mystery, the effects of which he hadwitnessed, but could trace no further than the comparative harmony ofphysiology. Towards sunrise, Mr. Stillinghast turned uneasy on hispillow, and opened his eyes. He looked around him with a puzzled, angry look; his bound-up arm--his garments clotted with blood--theconfusion into which his room was thrown--the strange man watching byhis bedside--May resting on the old sofa--what meant it all? He triedto call out, but could only whisper. 

"What's all this? Have I been robbed? Who are _you_?"

"I hope you feel a great deal better, Mr. Stillinghast. You have beenquite ill, sir, " said the doctor, soothingly. "I am Dr. Burrell; allowme to feel your pulse. "

"For what? I never was sick in my life. I never had my pulse felt, "he said, doggedly. 

"How does your head feel, sir?"

"My head! ah, my head feels shaky. Call _her_ here. "

May was beside him in a moment, holding his hand, and looking down intohis white pinched features with commiseration. 

"What's all this, child? Why are you here?"

"You have been very ill, dear uncle. You know you were poorly lastnight. I felt uneasy about you, and sat up to listen if you shouldcall for any thing, until I heard you fall, " said May, in a low, clear, and distinct voice. 

"Fall?"

"Then, sir, I ran up here, and found you on the floor, so ill--so veryill, " said May, hesitating, always unwilling to speak of her own acts. 

"What then?"

"I did all that I could, sir, until the doctor came, " she said. 

"And that means _every thing_, Mr. Stillinghast. She saved your life. She used the best remedies; she put ice about your head, and bled you. When I came you were out of danger; but be calm, sir; let me beseechyou to be calm, " said the doctor. 

"Did you do all this, little May?" he asked, looking earnestly at herwith his piercing gray eyes. 

"Yes, sir; I had read that such remedies were necessary. "

"_Why_ did you do it, little one? My life or death is of no interestto _you_. Tell me _why_ you did it?" he whispered. 

"Oh, dear uncle, forgive me!" said May, while her tears dripped likerain-drops on her wan cheek; "I knew that you had made no preparationfor death. I would have died that you might live long enough to effecta reconciliation with Heaven. "

"Profit--gain--loss--loss--loss!" he murmured; then suddenly he put uphis feeble hand, and drawing May's face closer to him, kissed hercheek. "If it is not too late, pray for me!" he whispered, in tones solow that she scarcely heard them. 

"Not too late. Oh no, dear uncle, it is not too late, " said May, smoothing back the tangled gray hair from his sunken temples. 

"Mr. Stillinghast, my dear sir, I fear that you are exciting yourself. I would recommend quiet, composure; indeed, sir, it is absolutelynecessary in your case, " said the doctor, looking on uneasily. 

"It will make no difference, sir. I know full well whose finger hastouched me. Do you know that I cannot move my left side?" said the oldman in his firm, stern way. 

"I feared it, " said the doctor, turning away to conceal the expressionof pain which this information caused him; "but it _may_ pass off, _youmay_ quite recover yet, sir. A cup of weak tea would be good for ourpatient, " he said to May. 

May glided out of the room, followed by the gaze of the stricken oldman, to prepare it for him. She ran up to awaken Helen, and told herthat their uncle was dangerously ill. "Dress, dear Helen, and go tohim immediately, while I get a cup of tea for him. "

"How very pale you are, May! Is he in danger?" exclaimed Helen, starting up, quite awakened by the news. 

But May was gone. When she went up again with the cup and saucer inher hand, Mr. Stillinghast greeted her with a look of welcome. 

"Do not leave me again, " he whispered, as he sipped the tea; "it willnot be long, little one, that I shall keep you. Take this away now, and send for Mr. Fielding. "

"Perhaps you know Mr. Fielding, sir?" said May, to Dr. Burrell. 

"He is my neighbor. Can I be of service?" he replied. 

"My uncle wishes to see him as early as possible. He is his man ofbusiness, I think, " replied May, who felt anxious that Mr. Stillinghastshould attend to his worldly concerns, and wind them up as soon aspossible, that all the energies of his soul might be directed to higherobjects. 

"Here is a prescription, sir, " said the doctor, "which I would adviseyou to take immediately. "

"Will it cure me?

"It may relieve you very much. "

"Will it cure me, I say?" said the old man, sharply. 

"I cannot say; I can only promise temporary relief from its use. "

"I won't take it. I thank you for your patience, and shall be glad tosee you again; but I won't take your medicine. "

"If you were a child, sir, I would compel you to take it; but as it is, I can only recommend the continual application of cold bandages to yourhead. I will call in this evening, " said the doctor, kindly, as heleft the room. 

"May!"

"I am here by you, sir. "

"It is not too late to do you an act of justice. "

"Oh, dear, dear uncle!" said May, earnestly, "forget me; forget theaffairs of earth, and think of the judgment beyond the grave! Oh, sir!indeed--indeed, I fear, that the time is too short to be wasted onperishing things. "

"Listen to me!" said the old man, gathering up his failing energies, and speaking in a low, distinct voice; "I wish to save my soul, butfear it is too late. My life has been one long, dark, dismal blank. There is nothing which I can remember--not one single thine, to cheerthis dreary hour. I have gained the world, and lost--heaven. Untilyesterday, I derided and scorned _all_ religions. It has been my lotin life to become entangled and betrayed by hypocrites of variousprofessions. They disgusted and embittered me with all religion. Itried to think you a hypocrite, and cursed your patience and good worksas so many snares for gain. But my eyes were opened. I followed youyesterday, out to that old negro's hut; I wrung the tale of yourcharities from your unwilling lips, and know and understand all. Andnow, in return for all my harshness, my neglect, my cruel unkindness, you save my life; you tend me, nurse me, watch me, and for what? _Forthe love of God_. 

"Don't interrupt me, little one. _You have proved the truth_ of thefaith you profess by your works. It suits me. I need no doctrinalarguments, no theological and abstruse disquisitions, to convince methat it is right. I believe it, May, even at the eleventh hour, when Ihave but little to hope. I believe--perhaps as devils do--for, child, I tremble. "

"Oh, dear uncle, the grace of contrition is never given to devils. Itis Almighty God who has touched your heart. He pities, and would saveyou. 'I desire not the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God;return ye, and live. '"

"Does he say that?"

"Yes; that, and ten thousand times more. Think of Him, dear uncle, 'who was wounded for our transgressions, who was bruised for our sins;the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his bruises we arehealed. '"

"What must I do besides?"

"Believe, and be baptized. "

"Baptized! I was raised in the belief of the Friends, and have neverbeen baptized, " he said, musingly. 

"Better so, sir, for now you can receive properly the waters ofregeneration, and experience, when you so much need them, all thegraces that flow from baptism into the believing soul, " said May. 

"I know the doctrines of your faith, May. I have read--I studied it inmy days of _vision_ and _unreality_ as an admirable system of humanphilosophy; but _you_, child, in your humility--in your patience andlong-suffering--in your cheerful docility, have taught me that it isdivine. "

"Oh, uncle, not me--_not me_! I have done nothing but duty, " said May, covered with confusion. "It is the mysterious hand of Almighty God, leading you, guiding you to the truth. "

"It can never--never be now! It is too late. I have wasted thehours--I have buried the talents--I have derided time--now the nightcometh when no man shall work, " he said, with an expression of anguish. 

"Shall I bring Father Fabian? _He_ can strengthen and cheer you withthe promises of Christ; _he_ has the power and authority from a divinesource to absolve and prepare you for your passage into eternity. Oh, sir, let me go. "

"Do with me what you please, strange--strong--wise little one! Onlynever leave me. Send your cousin for him. " Just then Helen made herappearance, elaborately and beautifully dressed, as usual, and wasshocked at the change in her uncle's appearance, which a few hours hadmade. She inquired "how he felt?"

"I believe I am ill. I wish you to take a note from May Brooke to herconfessor. She must remain with me, " he said, in his old way. 

"I will go instantly, " she said, glad to escape from such a scene, andwondering what the strange old man could have to do with a priest. Mayscribbled a few lines on the blank leaf of a book, tore it out, directed it to Father Fabian, and gave it to Helen. 

"Try to sleep a little, sir, " said May, gently. 

"I have no time for sleep--tell me of Jesus Christ!"

And May took down from the shelf an old, mouldy Testament, which hadnot been opened for years, and read, in clear, steady tones, and withsweet pathos, the Passion of our Lord from Gethsamane to Calvary. Whenshe finished, and looked up, the lips of that pale visage were firmlyset, and from his cold, dim eyes, tears were falling apace--the firsthe had shed for long, dreary years--the first of _contrition_ that hadever welled up from his soul. 

He did not fear death--the mere act of dying, even the thought ofannihilation, would not have stirred a ripple of fear in his heart, because, physically, he was bold, reckless, and defiant of personaldanger--but the eternal instincts of his soul, developed by theprovidence of God, at the eleventh hour, sought their true destiny;they shrunk, with dread, from the scrutiny of Divine Purity, yet longedfor immortal life, and immortal progress. Suddenly the veil had beentorn from his eyes; suddenly he felt all the gnawing, hungry needs ofhis soul; suddenly his weakness, his wanderings, his infirmities, histacit unbelief and indifference, were revealed, in all their frightfuldeformity, --and how? By a still, calm voice--the voice of a child, which had rung down the warning into his soul like thunder. "_Whatwill it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his ownsoul?_" it had said; and earth and earthly affairs had assumed theshape of nothingness; the tough, hard work of years was scattered--likea potent lever it lifted away the demoniac weight of darkness and pridefrom his soul, as it rung down into its frozen depths. And the strongangel of God, who had been contending with the powers of evil, to wrestit from eternal loss, bore up the glad news to heaven, that the hoarysinner repented at the eleventh hour; and there was great joy among theangels of His presence, before Him. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE NEW WILL. 

Father Fabian came. Miracles such as this never amazed _him_. He knewtoo well that the Spirit of the Eternal God, which abides with HisChurch for ever, was as powerful then as it had been in ages past, andthat He still condescended to add miracles to the testimony ofrevelation, to glorify the faith He planted. With the angels, he only"rejoiced, and was exceeding glad, " giving thanks to God for this newmanifestation of His clement love. Long, and earnest, and touching, was the interview between the priest of God and the dying penitent. Hesaw the depths of an old and embittered heart broken up; he heard itsplaintive cry, as it floated out towards the dark ocean of death, of, "Save, Lord, or I perish!" and its imploring prayer for the waters ofregeneration, and the sacraments of the Church. All earth had failedhim in this his hour of need; and from the deep abyss of his misery heexpected no deliverance but through them. But at last, Peace waswhispered, and into his soul was breathed the holy sentence ofabsolution; and on his hoary head was poured the baptismal stream; hiseyes and ears had been opened by divine power; and, like Siloa's wave, it washed him clean. What was the leprosy of those men of old, to thecorroding infection of SIN, which had for so many weary years diseasedand defaced his spirit? They were healed by a miracle of power, --he, by a miracle of grace. Mr. Stillinghast was much exhausted, but calmand humble; he had suddenly become like a little child, so sincere andentire was his repentance. 

"I will come again in a few hours, and administer to you, my poorfriend, the Sacrament of Extreme Unction; and if I find that you aresinking, will bring the Holy Viaticum for your refreshment andconsolation in the dark and trying hour. I would advise you now tosettle all your worldly concerns, so that nothing may interfere betweenyour soul and God. "

"How is it with you now, dear uncle?" said May, who came in as FatherFabian left the room. 

"Unworthy, child--all and utterly unworthy, but hoping humbly, throughthe infinite merits of Jesus Christ, " he whispered. 

"Mr. Fielding and Doctor Burrell are here!" said Helen, coming in. 

"Is Father Fabian still here?"

"He is, sir. "

"Request him to come back. " Soon after the three gentlemen came intogether. "Leave me a little while, " he said, unclasping his fingersfrom May's hand. 

"I fear that you feel very feeble, Mr. Stillinghast, " said the doctor. 

"I feel it, sir, but I have a work to do, and the 'day is far spent. 'Could you ascertain, in any way, so that you could swear to it, that Iam in my sane mind?" he asked, eagerly. 

"The subject requires no investigation, sir. I have not the leastdoubt of your sanity. Your mind has been quite--nay, uncommonly clearsince your recovery, " replied the doctor. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, addressing the other, "I am perfectly andentirely in my senses; I have not a single obscure or confused idea. All is clear and calm. Fielding, I made a will a short time ago; Iwish to change it--to make another. Open that desk, and you will findparchment, pens, and ink. Now, come sit near me--so. Begin and writethe usual preamble and formula. "

"It is done, sir, " said Mr. Fielding, after writing rapidly some tenminutes. 

"I wish to devise to my niece, May Brooke, two hundred thousand dollarsin bank and city stock, subject to her entire and free control, withoutcondition; and with the hope that she will accept and use it, as amemorial of my gratitude for the great and incalculable good she hasdone me. To Helen Stillinghast, I bequeath the sum of fifty thousanddollars, the harp I purchased for her, and the house, goods, andchattles I have devised to her elsewhere. "

"It is all written out, sir, in due legal form, " said Mr. Fielding. 

"To my Irish porter, Michael Neal, who has served me faithfully thesetwenty years, an annuity of two hundred dollars--to be settled on himfor life. To a certain wood-sawyer, introduced to me on the 25th bysaid Michael Neal, who will identify the man, the sum of one hundreddollars, annually, while he lives, as a small compensation for havingconducted me, on that day, to a place where I learned something of thefirst importance to me. " Then followed a magnificent bequest for theestablishment and support of a Catholic asylum for boys; another for astanding fund for the support of young men preparing for thepriesthood, who were destitute of means, and anxious to enter holyorders. The residue of his princely fortune, he wished applied tofurnishing capital for a bank for the poor, where, by making smalldeposits in seasons of health and prosperity, they would be entitled toloans without interest, in ill-health, sickness, or hard times. ToWalter Jerrold, in the event of his marrying Helen Stillinghast, hiswarehouse, then occupied by Stillinghast & Co. , and whatevermerchandise it contained. It was all put into legal form by theattorney--no technicality was omitted that might endanger the promptexecution of his wishes--not a letter or dot left out. Mr. Fieldingread it aloud. 

"Add a codicil, Fielding--a codicil. I wish my legacies to the churchto be placed in the hands, and under the control, and at the will of, the Archbishop of Baltimore. For the rest, I name you sole executor. Have you finished? Let me sign it; then ask those gentlemen, " he said, pointing to Father Fabian and Dr. Burrell, who had been engaged in alow-toned conversation at the window, to "witness it. "

They came forward, saw him sign his name in full, clear characters, then appended their own signatures; after which, Mr. Stillinghast fellback exhausted on his pillow, and, while an expression of rest settledon his pale, time-worn features, he exclaimed, "It is all right, now, Fielding. Now, my God, I am free; my burden, under which I have toiled through misspent years, is cast away. I amfree!"

"Courage, my friend; you have done a good work--a work worthy of adying Christian, and may the blessing of Almighty God rest on it andyou, " said Father Fabian, who made over him the sign of the cross, while he blessed him in the name of the Holy Trinity. 

Mr. Fielding placed the will in a large white envelope, which he laidon the bed beside Mr. Stillinghast, and took leave, hoping that when hesaw him in the morning he would be much better. The doctor prevailedon him to swallow a restorative which he had brought, after which, hegrew more composed, and gave the will to May, and directed her to layit on the shelf of a small, narrow closet, on the left side of thefireplace. As she did so, she saw another envelope like it, marked"_Will_;" also a number of packages--bonds, deeds, mortgages, andreceipts, tied up in small; compact bundles, packed in between theshelves. But she felt no interest there; and quickly returning to heruncle's pillow, was glad to see that he had fallen into a profoundsleep. Helen, who had been hovering about the door, and around theroom, in and out, for the last half hour, came in again, and asked Mayif "she should not relieve her by taking her post, while her uncleslept?"

"No, dear Helen, he might awake and miss me; and he has requested menot to leave him until death releases his soul. Do you attend to theaffairs of the house--I will watch here. "

"There's something going on, " thought Helen. "She's a deep one, withall her quiet piety; but she shall never stand between me and my aims. I have read one will--I shall not sleep until I read the other. " Then, turning to May, she spoke aloud. "It will suit me better to be downstairs; I am so very nervous, that I am a poor nurse;" and glad to bereleased from a scene too uncongenial to her nature and feelings, shehastily withdrew. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SECRET SIN. 

"This is shocking news, Walter!" said Mrs. Jerrold to her son, when heimparted to her the news of Mr. Stillinghast's illness. "Do youknow--has he--did he send--"

"I don't know, indeed, " said the young man, abstractly. 

"I mean, has he altered his will?" said the lady, speaking out. 

"I do not know; Helen tells me that a lawyer has been with him, and apriest. "

"A priest!" shrieked the lady. "Order the carriage instantly, Walter;I must see Helen. "

"I have not seen her since the morning, " said the young man, afterhaving delivered the order, and returned to the sofa. "She looksharassed and ill, poor girl. "

"I am sorry we have been so precipitate in this affair, Walter, " saidMrs. Jerrold, fuming. "After all, this eccentric old person may changehis mind, and it will be so awkward to break off the match, for youcannot afford to marry a poor woman. "

"I do not apprehend any thing of the kind, mother. Helen's beauty andaccomplishments are dower enough, " he replied, calmly. 

"Walter, I will never consent to this marriage if Helen isportionless, " exclaimed the lady. 

"My dear mother, you sometimes forget, do you not, that I have reachedthe mature age of thirty-one? Really, where my happiness is concerned, I shall submit to no control, " he said, calmly. 

"Happiness!" repeated the lady, scornfully. 

"The carriage is at the door, madam, " said a servant, at the door. 

"Very well. Tell Rachael to bring down my bonnet and wrappings. "

Soon accoutred for her drive, Mrs. Jerrold took her son's arm, and wentdown to her carriage. He handed her in, and stepped in after her. 

"Why do you go, Walter?" she asked, looking annoyed. 

"I wish to inquire after Mr. Stillinghast's health, " he said, quietly. 

A few minutes' drive brought them to Mr. Stillinghast's door. Helenheard the carriage stop, and her toilette, as usual, being verybecomingly and carefully made--for Helen never forgot her_self-homage_--she met them at the door. Her countenance had assumed asad and mournful expression, and in answer to their inquiries, shespoke in an agitated and subdued tone. 

"It is horrible. I did not hear a word of it until to-day. I wasdreadfully shocked, " said Mrs. Jerrold, kissing her cheek. 

"How is Mr. Stillinghast now, dear Helen?" asked Walter Jerrold, folding her hand closer in his own. 

"They fear he is sinking, " said Helen, in the same tone of counterfeitfeeling. 

"How melancholy!" said Mrs. Jerrold, taking possession of the corner ofthe sofa, almost dying with curiosity. 

"Has he inquired after me, do you know Helen?"

"I have not heard. "

"I thought, perhaps, he might wish to see me in relation to the firm, and its concerns; though every thing has been conducted with suchstrict regularity, that I do not suppose it is necessary. "

"Perhaps as May has been with him all the time, she can give you someinformation, " said Helen, with one of her cold, haughty glances towardsMay, who just then came in. 

"I will not detain you one moment, " said Mr. Jerrold, bowing to May. "I am anxious to know particularly how Mr. Stillinghast is, and if hehas inquired for me?"

"But this moment, Mr. Jerrold, he awoke, and requested to see you. Ithought you were here, and ran down to see. He is very low indeed, sir, and I will just let him know that you are waiting to see him. "

"It may not be important; but if he is not too ill, I should be glad tosee him a moment. "

"I will come down for you immediately. Excuse me, Mrs. Jerrold, " saidMay, who hurrying out, was met by Father Fabian. He spoke kindly toHelen, bowed courteously to the strangers, and went up stairs. 

"Who is that, dear?" asked Mrs. Jerrold, whose attention had beenarrested by the dignified courtesy of Father Fabian's manner. 

"A Catholic clergyman, " said Helen, blushing. 

"Your uncle is not a Catholic?"

"He was not, but he is now. "

A look of ineffable scorn spread over Mrs. Jerrold's handsome face, while a low, contemptuous laugh from her son, was the response. 

"Dear Helen, " said Mrs. Jerrold, taking the weak girl's hand in herown, with a caress, "excuse me, for no doubt you still feel somehankering after those mysterious idolatries which you have wiselyabandoned; but this is so absurd. How came it about?"

"I cannot imagine, " she replied, in a faltering voice; for at thatmoment the thorn-crowned head of Jesus Christ--his sorrowful facestained with drops of blood, until its divinely beautiful lineamentswere almost covered--was visioned in her soul with such distinctness, that she almost shrieked; then it faded away, and she went on:

"I have seen very little of my uncle since his illness. He keeps mycousin May by his side, and is uneasy if she leaves him an instant. "

"And she is a Catholic?" asked Mrs. Jerrold, anxiously. 

"Yes, a perfect devotee, " replied Helen, bitterly. 

"An infatuation! He is weak; his nerves and senses are shattered bythis attack. He has been influenced by her and the priest. My dearHelen, I fear _your_ interests will suffer. "

"Do you really think so?" said Helen, growing pale. 

"Mr. Jerrold, you will please to come up for a moment. My uncledesires to see you particularly, " said May, appearing at the door. 

"That is a designing girl, depend on it, " whispered Mrs. Jerrold, asher son left the room; "and now, Helen, I must warn you. Be on yourguard, and do not feel hurt when I say, that if she should havesucceeded in cozening your uncle to revoke his will in her favor, mypoor son's happiness will be wrecked for ever. He is not rich, youknow, and is too proud to marry a woman whom he cannot support in goodstyle; consequently, this marriage, which, under existingcircumstances, gives us so much pleasure, would then have to be brokenoff. "

"Mr. Fielding was with him, and I heard them talking about a will, butwhether it was the old, or a new one, I could not determine, " saidHelen, becoming very white. 

"Hush! not another word; Walter is coming down. But remember what Itell you. Well, dear Walter?"

"I think Mr. Stillinghast is sinking, but he is perfectly himself, "said the young man, in a low tone, as he seated himself. "He is muchchanged, and speaks in broken sentences. "

"He knew you?" asked Mrs. Jerrold. 

"Perfectly. He told me that our recent engagement was all secured, andbegged me to keep up the credit of the old house; spoke of ourmarriage, dear Helen, and gave me some advice, which I could notunderstand, about faith and baptism, and truth, and all that kind ofthing, peculiar to old men who are dying, " said the young man, with alight smile. 

"Then he has not made another will?" asked Mrs. Jerrold. 

"No, I fancy not; merely a codicil, if any thing. But be careful ofyourself, Helen; don't sit up at night--it will hurt your eyes and goodlooks. May Brooke is an indefatigable nurse, " said the worldly man. 

"Farewell, sweet Helen, " whispered Mrs. Jerrold, embracing her. "Weshall soon have you to ourselves. But be on the _qui vive_; there_may_ be something, you know, under all this. "

"_Another will!_" thought Helen, after they went away; "if anotherexists, different from the first----well--I see no reason why a whimshould wreck my happiness. " Then, tempted and scheming, she satmotionless for hours. Alas! for the soul which of its own free will, unmoors itself from the Rock of Ages, to drift away on dark anduncertain seas; who, lured away by the sun-gilt mirage, throws down thecross, scorns the thorny crown, and despises Calvary, to perish at lastmiserably in the arid desert! Although Helen had never been a piousCatholic, she had always declared herself one, and resisted every openattack on her faith; but now, insidious scorn, worldly interests, andhuman love had entered her soul, and poisoned it, and for a season theywould triumph. 

"Uncle Stillinghast wants you, dear Helen, " said May, tapping her onthe shoulder. 

"Me!" she exclaimed, starting up like a guilty thing. 

"Yes, dear. He will receive the Holy Viaticum soon, and he wishes tospeak with you before, " said May, winding her arm around Helen's waist, and wishing, in the charity that filled her soul, that she could aseasily lead her back, weeping and penitent, to the foot of the cross. 

"Come hither, child, " said the old man, turning his feeble eyes towardsher. "I fear--I have--assisted--_encouraged_ you--to forsake yourfaith. God--forgive me--for my ignorance and sin. But hear me. I amdying--hear me testify to the saving and divine truths of thatfaith--and repent you--repent ere--it is--too late for ever. It is anawful thing--girl--to live away--from--the--true fold of JesusChrist;--but how horrible--is it--_to forsake it_! Father Fabian--comecloser, " he said, feebly, while he placed Helen's hand in that of theclergyman, "bring--watch her--guide her, until she is saved. "

"My poor child! you will not forsake your religion; you dare not perilyour salvation by severing, with sacrilegious hand, the ties whichunite you to JESUS CHRIST, as a member of His glorious body?" asked thepriest, in a tone of blended pity and authority. 

"Oh, no, no!" sobbed Helen, quite overcome by the scene. "I am veryyoung, and love the world. I have never intended to forsake myreligion entirely. I intend, at some early day, to go to confession. I have only procrastinated. "

"Of course, my dear child, you will return to your duty, " said FatherFabian; "you cannot do otherwise, unless you wish to seal deliberatelyyour eternal perdition. "

"You will marry--marry Jerrold, " gasped Mr. Stillinghast; "butdo--not--forget--that your prevarications--may ruin his soul--with yourown. Are--you willing--to assume the responsibility?"

"Oh, sir, this is horrible!" exclaimed Helen, falling on her kneesbeside the bed. 

"But true, " added Father Fabian, at a sign from Mr. Stillinghast, wholeaned back exhausted. "It is a perilous thing, under the mostfavorable circumstances, for a Catholic to wed with a Protestant. Ifthe Catholic has not the patience of a saint, and the constancy of amartyr, scandal must come. Concessions must be made--vital principlestoo often yielded, and at last the unbeliever triumphs--not over themere human will, and the weak nature of his victim, but overreligion--and exultingly thinks how frail are the defences of thisfaith, which is called divine. Then, _confirmed_ in his errors by yourbetrayal, his whole life is a scoff at Eternal Truth; while you, bringing forth children, who, instead of becoming heirs of Christ, become aliens from His fold, while _your_ sin--_your_ treachery--_your_apostasy will, like an onward billow, roll through future generations, until it dashes itself, with its black abominations, at the feet of theEternal Judge. But, my dear child, through the mercy of God, and yourown example, you may win this wandering soul to embrace the truth: atany rate, you may, by your pious constancy, plant the seeds of a betterlife in his soul, which may bear the fruits of salvation. "

"It was--my act. I would undo it--but--it is too late--too late. Helen--forgive me. "

"Dear uncle, do not say so. --I have nothing to forgive, " she sobbed. 

"Time will come, I fear--when--you will not think so. Go, now--I--haveprovided--for you--see--that you provide--for the eternal future, " hesaid, with difficulty. 

Helen kissed the hand already shadowed by the approach of death, andleft the room, weeping. 

"It is horrible!" she exclaimed, almost shrieking, as she threw herselfon the bed, after she reached her apartment. "I hope he will not sendfor me again. I never loved this harsh, bitter old man, nor do Iintend to risk my happiness by promising impossibilities. I'll go toconfession, and all that, when I am ready, and not before. Walterdetests Catholics; and if he thought I was still one, he'd never wedme. But it cannot last long--I shall soon be free; and, once Jerrold'swife, I can practise my religion if I choose. At any rate, I shall_die a Catholic_!"

It was midnight. All was silent in the death-chamber. The night-taperwas placed behind a screen; and the fire-light flickered with atremulous motion on the richly-carved, antique furniture, black andpolished by age, and creeping upwards, threw long, wavering shadows onthe wall. Amidst this solemn twilight, a table spread with white, which supported a crucifix, wax lights, and flowers, stood near thesick man's bed. A guest was expected ere long--a divine and honoredguest was coming into the shadowy room where death held his awfulpresence, to strengthen and console that penitent spirit on is passageto eternity, when, like Elias, after his miraculous repast, strengthened and courageous, it would walk with humble, but sure stepstowards its eternal Horeb!

May knelt by her uncle's side, with his hand clasped in hers, praying, and whispering sweet words of cheer. A footstep sounded on thepavement; it ascended the steps, and Father Fabian, accompanied byHelen and Doctor Burrell, who had been waiting in the parlor below, came in, bearing with him the Lord of Life. May lit the candles on thetemporary altar, and retired with the rest for a few moments, whileFather Fabian held a brief conversation with the penitent old man, touching the affairs of his conscience; then he summoned them in; andwhile they knelt, he arranged himself in surplice and stole, and in asolemn, impressive manner, began the sacramental rite. "'_Beholdhim--behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world_, '"he said, holding up the sacred host. "'_He that eateth my flesh, anddrinketh my blood_, ' says the Redeemer, '_hath ever-lasting life, and Iwill raise him up on the last day_. ' The day of life was almost spent, when you came to him; night was coming on, but He, in the plenitude ofHis divine compassion, turned you not away, but gives you a princelyreward--even Himself. Like the Prodigal, destitute and naked, youreturn, and receiving you, He spreads a mystic feast, in which He givesyou heavenly food; and while the shadow of death falls around you, lo!He comes to go with you towards those dismal portals, and admit you toa region of probation and everlasting hope. Humbly confiding, andstrong in faith, receive Him, not as a representation or mere memorialof the Son of God, but Jesus Christ himself. 'Corpus Domini nostriJesu;'" and, as Father Fabian pronounced the words, he administered thebread of Eternal Life to the dying man. What could have changed thatdark, repulsive face so entirely, that it looked an image of humility?Was it death? Was it memory? Or was it the effect of new and divineinfluences? It was surely nothing mortal. He lifted his eyes toFather Fabian's face--then turned them in search of May. She was byhis side in a moment. 

"Unworthy--unworthy, " he whispered; then they saw his lips moving insilent and earnest prayer. Dr. Burrell had regarded the whole scenewith interest and awe. The whole scene preached to his inmost soul. Doctrinal arguments and learned polemics, he could have tilted with, word for word; but here were facts, and realities and influences, whichdisarmed and defied all that was skeptical in his nature. The dyingman--the priest of God--that young and fragile girl, illustrated bytheir acts a faith which, though mysterious to him, could be nothingless than divine; but Father Fabian, ignorant of the thoughts whichwere passing, like ripples of light, through his mind, approached, andasked him in a low voice, "how long he supposed Mr. Stillinghast mightlinger?"

"He may live until noon to-morrow, " said the doctor. 

"He may, " said Father Fabian, "but I fear not, however, God's holy willbe done!"

During the night Mr. Stillinghast's mind wandered. May, overcome byfatigue, had leaned her head on the bed-side, and fallen into aprofound sleep. Helen, timid, and startling at every sound, sat nearhim, fearing to move, lest it should rouse him. --Her guilty, selfishthoughts, terrified and haunted her like phantoms. 

"There are--some papers, " murmured the old man, without turning hishead, and thinking he spoke to May, "papers which I wish burnt. "

"Shall I get them, sir?" whispered Helen, while every bad, avaricious, and selfish instinct in her nature, started to sudden life; "whereshall I find them?"

"On the second shelf--of the closet--where the _wills_ are. They arerecords--of sorrows--and bitterness; but be careful, child--those twowills--the last one, which concerns you--is in--a white--envelope; theold one--in a brown wrapper. On the--second shelf; mind--the wills. "

"Yes, sir!" whispered Helen, while her heart throbbed almost tobursting, and a wild gleam of triumph shot across her visage, giving itthe fearful beauty of a demon. She would throw the new will amongstthe condemned papers--it would be consumed with them; _he_ would besilent and cold when it was missed, and could tell nothing; but then, might not _she_ be suspected? No! she would not burn it--she wouldsecrete it, and only destroy it in case she was disinherited. Thesethoughts rushed through her mind with a strange velocity, while shewent towards the closet; and, just as she laid her hand on a package ofpapers, Mr. Stillinghast, suddenly turning, discovered his mistake. 

"Come away--come away, " he cried, with strange energy, "how dare _you_go there? Come away. "

It was the work of an instant to snatch up the new will, thrust it intoher bosom, and return, pale, trembling, and almost fainting, to hisside. 

"I thought you were May; call her here, Helen, then go away, " he said, gently. 

"Uncle Stillinghast wants you, May, " said Helen, stooping over, andtouching her. 

"What can I do for you, uncle?" she said, instantly roused. 

"I wish--you to burn--some papers--quick--quick--child. On the secondshelf--there--in the small closet--where the wills are. _Is she gone_?"

"Helen? yes, sir; shall I bring all the papers--or are those you wishme to burn, numbered?" asked May, taking the candle with her. 

"Yes, yes; numbered--1, 2, 3, --1796--1799--1800. "

"Here they are, sir. "

"Lay them there--under the blaze--so--so--so--perish--so blot out--sofarewell the past. Forgive me the sins of my pride--of myignorance--of my avarice--through, the bitter passion of JesusChrist--forgive me--as I forgive--all, " he murmured, as he watched therapid destruction of these records of his life. 

"Take a spoonful of this, " said May, holding some brandy to his lips. He drank it, and cast a long, earnest, loving look on her, drew herface towards his, and kissed her forehead. 

"The blessing of Almighty God abide with you, little one; hand me_that_, now, " he said, looking towards the crucifix, "lay ithere--where my eyes can rest on it--so. " He never spoke again; but, with the image of the CRUCIFIED in view, his failing eyes gradually andsoftly closed. May thought he slept. So he did, but he slept thesleep of death. 

Helen had fled up to her room, locked the door, and, with a white, pallid face, and trembling fingers, took the will from her bosom andopened it. 

"To May--to May--to May--beloved niece--I _knew_ it; but May shallnever have it, " she said, through her set teeth, as her eye ran rapidlyover it. "They will think _she_ burned it with those papers. I amsaved--I shall marry Jerrold!" A mouse gnawing in her wainscot nearher, caused her to start up and look around; and _there_, looking downfrom the cross, where the sins of the world had hung Him, was the imageof His divine and woeful face. In the flickering light, the drops ofblood appeared to flow from those cruel wounds, and the thorn-crownedhead seemed to droop towards her. With a shuddering cry, she fellheavily to the floor. But the paroxysm passed away--she remembered hercrime, and, fearful of detection--for already had _conscience_ begun toscourge her--she flew to her trunk, and touching a spring in the side, a secret compartment slid back, revealing a narrow interstice betweenthe body of the trunk and the exterior. In this she dropped the will, and fastened it securely. _What_ and _who_ instigated her to evil?Shall any dare say it was religion? She was a Catholic bybirthright--but an alien from the practices of her holy faith bychoice, and through human pride and worldliness--did its spirit leadher into crime? Judge of its effects by May's humble and earnest life. _She_ was true and practical in her character, and acted out theprecepts of her faith. Judge it, by the wonderful change it effectedin the harsh and bitter nature of that hoary man, whom it excited toacts of perfect Christian virtue, and who, full of humble hope, hadjust breathed his last. 

Who would measure the patriotism and purity of Washington, by thetreason of Arnold? Dare not then, be guilty of the manifest injusticeof judging the Church by the conduct of those, who, although bearingher sign on their foreheads, become traitors to her holy precepts, andscandalize her in their lives. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE DISCOVERY. 

The old man was far down in the shadow of the mountain; the day waswell-nigh spent, when, by the grace of God, he fled into the fold ofFaith for safety; and now, when all was over, the Church, like a lovingmother, more tender of the repentant prodigal, who had fallen at herfeet, and died, than of those who had never sullied, or torn theirrobes, and squandered their substance in the world's wild wilderness, poured out the riches of its solemnities around the altar, where theDivine Sacrifice was offered, with touching prayers, for his eternalrepose. 

Father Fabian officiated, and spoke eloquently of the nothingness ofthe world, the uncertainty of life, and the emptiness of riches. Thecathedral was crowded by persons whom the news of Mr. Stillinghast'sconversion had brought together, and who, regarding it as anextraordinary event, were desirous of witnessing the funeralceremonies, and at the same time testify their respect for his memory. The most influential and wealthy of the class to which he belonged werepresent, and habituated as they were to look at every thing in acommercial point of view, their general opinion was that their oldcompanion in trade had made a good bargain. "He was stern and harsh, "they said, "but honest and upright; and too shrewd altogether to make abad speculation in the end, and doubtless he had sought only his bestinterests in the step he had taken. "

But in all that crowd there was only one heart which felt an emotion ofgrief, or had a single tear to drop on his coffin-lid. After a longlife of toil, and solitude, and unlovingness, only one. May felt thiswhile she wept, and wished she had been more patient and persevering inher love while he lived; but such regrets were useless now, except tokindle charity. She could do nothing which would be available to makeup the deficiencies of the past, but incessantly beseech Jesus Christ, through which his bitter passion and death, and the Immaculate Mother, by the union she bore, body and soul, in the unspeakable agonies of theCROSS, to grant him a speedy release from suffering probation, toeternal refreshment, and light, and peace. 

It was late when the funeral _cortege_ returned to the city, and Mr. Fielding, perceiving that May was much overcome, and looked ill, declined going in, or attending to business that evening. 

"I will be here at ten o'clock to-morrow morning. I know that mydeceased client's affairs are all in such order, that there will be nodelay in carrying out his wishes. "

"Just as you think best, Mr. Fielding, " replied May, wearily. 

"What say you, Miss Stillinghast?" he said, addressing Helen. 

"To-morrow will be quite time enough, sir, " replied Helen, in a lowtone. 

Time enough, indeed! Well might she feel a sense of relief at itsbeing deferred, when she knew that from the moment it was discoveredthat the will was missing, the temptations which had led her so deeplyinto sin would become demons of vengeance to torture and disturb her. As she went up with a heavy step to her room, an angel whispersuggested that there was time enough yet to undo the wrong she hadcommitted. It startled and agitated her. "Can I bear these chains?"was the question. Weak, but never hardened in wickedness, shetrembled, and was afraid of the penalties of her offence; and when shelooked up, and saw by the flickering candlelight the image of theCRUCIFIED, and the sorrowful face of his Virgin Mother, both bending onher looks of tenderness and woe, which said, as plain as looks couldsay, "Child of my passion! soul, ransomed by my death! why wound me sodeeply?" With a low cry, she threw herself on her pillow. "I shallnever know peace again, " her heart whispered; "I already feel theanguish of guilt; I begin to taste on earth the pangs of ever-lastingwoe. This sin, with the human shame it will bring, will be an abyssbetween me and the Sacraments of the Church. Where shall I turn forpeace? I can never bear this burden; it will madden me. I feel evennow so guilty that I dare not lift my eyes to Walter's, for whose sakeI do it. I feel an awe and dread steal over me when May comes near meas if she had Ithuriel's spear with which to touch me. I will do it, "she said, with sudden resolution, and got up, and opened her trunk withthe almost determined purpose of restoring the will to the place fromwhich she had taken it. But oh, human frailty! the light falling on anopen case of rare jewels, and some costly articles of her bridaltrousseau, met her eye; then followed visions of splendor--of suchpower as wealth gives--of equipages and luxury, which swept away, likeocean-tides, the thoughts which her angel-guardian had written on herconscience. Hesitating no longer, a smile of triumph lit her face, andcrowning the spectre with roses, and wrapping a drapery of paleillusions around it, she offered herself to a martyrdom of sin, tosecure her worldly advancement. 

"I suppose, " said Mr. Fielding, the next morning to May, "that I shallfind the will in that little closet, where your uncle kept his mostimportant papers?"

"I presume so, sir. I placed it there at his request, in the place hedesignated, after you went away, the day it was written, " replied May. 

"That closet could tell strange things, " said the lawyer, "if it couldspeak; but I believe I have come a half hour before the time appointed, as the others are not here. "

"They are coming now. I see Mr. Jerrold and Father Fabian walking thisway, and I think that is Dr. Burrell's carriage down the street, " saidMay, looking out. 

"All right. May, suppose you had Aladdin's lamp?" said the lawyer, rubbing his hands. 

"I wouldn't have such a thing, sir, " said May, quietly. 

"Why, young lady?"

"I should be afraid of the monster it might evoke. Poor Aladdin had amiserable time of it from the beginning, in my opinion, " said May. 

"Riches have their cares, " said Mr. Fielding. 

"Cares without much peace, " replied May. 

Just then Mr. Jerrold, Dr. Burrell, and Father Fabian came in; andafter exchanging the compliments of the day with the ladies and Mr. Fielding, prepared to execute the business which had brought themtogether. Mr. Fielding, accompanied by Mr. Jerrold, went up to get thewill. He had long held the most intimate business relations with Mr. Stillinghast, and was the only man living who had ever been in hisconfidence. He knew the contents of every parcel and package ofwriting in the old desk and bureau, and could just tell where he was atfault now. There was only one will to be found, and that was the onewhich the deceased had declared should be null and void. The groupbelow who were conversing on some interesting topic, were soon amazedto hear Mr. Fielding's voice in loud and excited tones at the head ofthe staircase. Clearing two or three steps at a time, he bounded intothe room, followed by Mr. Jerrold, who was pale and silent. He wasusually a grave and quiet person, and so governed by system, that thevery hairs on his head might have been said to be arranged numerically. 

"Here's a pretty thing come to pass!" he exclaimed, throwing a bundleof papers on the table; "a most beautiful kettle of fish. The lastwill and testament of the deceased is missing. Yes, sirs! can't befound. May, who was in your uncle's room the last night he lived? Isay _then_, because the closet in which the will was placed was lockedthen, and the key has been in my pocket ever since. Who was there?"

"_I_ was there, sir, " said May, astonished at the uproar. 

"Who else?"

"Helen was there for a little while. "

"Who else?"

"The doctor came at eleven o'clock. "

"The doctor didn't steal the will. Are you sure no one else came inafterwards?"

"Father Fabian administered the Holy Viaticum to my uncle. After that, no one except Helen and myself were there. "

"Were you awake all the time?'

"I think not, sir. I believe I slept about ten minutes. "

"Why didn't you sleep ten years, May?" exclaimed the irritated lawyer. "And you, Miss Stillinghast, please to state what occurred while yourcousin slept. I suppose you kept awake, as you have heavy interests atstake?"

"Mr. Fielding, this lady is my affianced wife; oblige me by assuming amore gentle tone, " said Walter Jerrold, taking his stand beside Helen. 

"If she was your grandmother, sir, this matter must be sifted; and letme tell you, not only sifted here, but in open court, whither I shallcarry it, unless the will is forthcoming. What occurred, MissStillinghast, during the ten minutes that little fool slept?"

"Only this, sir, " said Helen, who felt supported by Mr. Jerrold'sprotection; "my uncle roused himself a little, and told me to take somepackages of paper out of the closet, and put them under the grate. Hesaid 'they were records of the past which he wished to perish withhim. '"

"So--so!" said the lawyer, significantly. 

"But, " continued Helen, speaking in a clearer, and more assured tone, "I had just laid my hand on the knob to open the door, when hediscovered that it was not May to whom he had been speaking, and inharsh tones he ordered me back, and commanded me to awaken May, andleave the room, which I did, for his terrible looks alarmed me sodreadfully that I could not remain. "

"And you, May?"

"I got out the papers, sir, as my uncle directed, and burnt them, as hedesired. Helen is right, " replied May. 

"And what did you burn?"

"Papers. Some in packages, and some in large envelopes, like that youhold in your hand, " replied May, calmly. 

"Why the deuce, then, didn't you put your head under the grate, andburn that too? You have burnt the will, that's clear: the will whichwould have made you the richest woman in Maryland. With those 'recordsof the past, ' which my old friend Stillinghast ought to have _eaten_ upyears ago, you have burnt up legacies to orphans, benefactions towidows, and many noble charities with it--_if it was burnt_, " added Mr. Fielding. 

"Mr. Fielding, " said May, lifting her hands with an earnest gesture, "If I thought I had through a careless, or heedless act, injured theinterests of any living being, I should be truly miserable. I cannotcomprehend the charges, or the cause of your unusual and ungentleexcitement. "

"You miserably innocent child! You poor, unworldly infant! I willendeavor to beat it into your comprehension, if you will listen. Yourdeceased uncle made _two wills_; one a few months ago, leaving the bulkof his fortune to his niece, Miss Helen Stillinghast, and to his otherniece, May Brooke, the splendid life annuity of one hundred and fiftydollars. But on Thursday last having felt, by the judgment and graceof God, that so unequal a division was unjust, and being convinced thatthe said May Brooke would squander his gains precisely as he wished atthat moment he had been doing all his life, viz. , amongst the poor, destitute, and afflicted, he made _another will_, in which he devisedthe handsome sum of fifty thousand dollars, and some real estate, toHelen Stillinghast; and to May Brooke, his well-beloved niece andheiress, two hundred thousand dollars, this house, lot, and furniture, and other properties. But this will is missing--burnt up, it issupposed; and the first one is good in law, and I will read it, although I protest against its being executed until a thoroughinvestigation is made, and I am well assured that there has been nofoul play in the case, " said the lawyer, impressively. 

"Mr. Fielding, " said Walter Jerrold, speaking out from the mosthonorable motives, "I feel as you do; and before reading the will, letus make a more patient and thorough search. We may have over-lookedit. Neither Helen, nor myself, could ever feel satisfied, or happy, inthe possession of property which, in the sight of Heaven, belongs toanother. "

"Sir, your sentiments do you honor. I accept of your suggestions, "said Mr. Fielding, fixing a penetrating gaze on Walter Jerrold'scountenance. "Come, May, you go with us, and help us to search highand low through the closet and bureau. "

Father Fabian, who had come at the request of Mr. Fielding, had been asilent, but not unconcerned witness of this strange and unexpectedscene, and looked for its issue with the deepest interest. Dr. Burrellexploded every now and then in opinions, which contained more feelingthan legal reasoning, and consequently were of no importance. Helen'spresence restrained all conversation on the subject while the otherswere absent from the room, and Father Fabian, having no time to driftidly on a single moment of his life, took a seat in one of the deepembrasures of the windows, and read portions of his "office" from thewell-worn Breviary, which he drew from his pocket. 

But the search for the lost will was in vain. Assisted zealously byWalter Jerrold and May, Mr. Fielding left no corner of the roomunexplored. The bed and mattress--the tester and curtains, wereturned, shaken, and unfolded. Every drawer and nook was inspected. The shelves of the little closet were removed, and the panel at theback and sides pried off, but in vain; and Mr. Fielding sat down quiteexhausted, and folding his hands, exclaimed, or rather growled, "Icongratulate you, May. It has all turned out precisely as yourhumility hoped it would, no doubt. "

"Sir, " said May, gently, "I am no worse off now than I was yesterday. I should have felt much encumbered by so large a fortune. I'm afraidit would have made me dizzy and foolish; indeed, sir, I feel quiteunequal to the responsibility of such a stewardship. I feel deeplygrateful to my poor uncle, and also to you, for your kind wishes in myregard, but, believe me, I am quite content for matters to stand justas they are, so far as _I_ am concerned. " Then breaking down, Maybroke out into a regular womanly fit of crying. 

"May, " said the lawyer, more gently, "when you took those papers out ofthat infer--that closet there, did you see those two wills lyingtogether?"

"I saw nothing, sir, except the papers I went to get. "

"And which you burned?"

"Which I burned up to the last scrap. "

"Very well. You burned up the will too. You have been purified byfire with a vengeance. Do you still believe in guardian angels?"

"Just as firmly as ever, sir, " she replied, fixing her clear eyes onhim. 

"Where was _yours_, pray, while you was doing just what the devil wouldhave you?"

"Guarding me from evils to come, I trust. Oh, sir, it is very perilousto one's soul to be rich!" she exclaimed, with one of her sunlitexpressions. 

"Very well, again! 'Gad, how Plato would have loved you! But seehere, you most uncommon of little bodies! I want just such a daughteras you are. My heart is desolate. All that I loved have passed away!Will you--will you come and keep house for me, like you did for oldStillinghast? Come--come, tell me at once; I am old and tottering, "said the lawyer, trying to twinkle away a tear from his large gray eyes. 

"Oh, dear me! dear, kind Mr. Fielding!" cried May, weeping on Mr. Fielding's shoulder; "I hope Heavenly Father will bless you for yourkind intentions to a friendless orphan; but, indeed, sir, I cannotsay--I don't think it would suit me to be dependent. "

"Who wants you to be dependent?" roared out Mr. Fielding; "I'll _hire_you, if that will suit you better, to keep house, mend my stockings, and make tea for me; _that_ will board you, and your splendid annuitywill clothe you. "

"I will tell you in a few days, sir. I have not quite decided what Ishall do. I am so tossed and worried now I can think of nothingclearly, " sobbed May. 

"Let us go down, sir, and go on with the business which brought ushere, " said Mr. Fielding, while he lifted May's head gently up from hisshoulder. "Whatever you decide on, May Brooke, remember that I am_your protector_, _defender_, and _friend_. "

And so May was blamed for the loss of the will. Grieving more for thesolid benefits which were lost to the poor and destitute, --for the almswhich would have sent up incense to heaven in behalf of the soul of thegiver, --May thought not of herself, only so far as to vow her energies, her labors, her life, to the good of those who, through herheedlessness, had been injured. She was not clear that she did notburn the will; she _thought_ she had not done so, but she would not, for the world, have taken an oath to that effect. It is not to besupposed, however, that so shrewd a man as Mr. Fielding, and a man soexperienced in all the devious and sinuous windings of the human heartas Father Fabian, were without their suspicions, but the one throughpolicy, and the other through charity, forebore to express in wordswhat they were not prepared to prove by legal facts. 

May kept her plans to herself, and in her matter-of-fact way set thehouse in order, and arranged, day after day, every article in itsparticular place; and was scrupulously exact that not a scrap of oldlumber, cracked china, broken spoons, or half-worn linen, should bemissing on the day of the sale. Helen, quite unconcerned about suchhomely matters, dashed about in Mrs. Jerrold's carriage from morninguntil night, making splendid purchases, and indulged in all thoseexpensive tastes which her natural love for the beautiful, and herundisciplined will, made so necessary to her happiness. Happiness!Could she in whose soul the poison of a hidden sin was already doingits work of restless fever, and unceasing torture, be happy? Alas! no;she _felt_ that hence forth she was to know not rest onearth--_beyond_, she dared not look. 

One evening--the eve of her bridal, she and May were together, oncemore, in the antique parlor. Helen, flushed, and splendidlybeautiful;--May, calm, and pleasant, her cheeks and brow a little pale, but very lovely from the inner light reflected on them. 

"May, are you still determined not to witness my marriage?" askedHelen, abruptly. 

"Yes, Helen. The same barrier to my being present exists, I presume?"

"If my being married by a Protestant minister, is the apology for yourabsence, it does, " replied Helen, with a decided air. 

"Do not say apology, Helen; I do not pretend to offer one. It is yourprivilege to make your marriage, as far as you are concerned, sacramental; as a Catholic, it is _your duty_ to do so. By actingotherwise, you disobey the Church, and place yourself in a position ofgreat danger; and I do not choose to be implicated, by being present atthe ceremonial. "

"You are a most obstinate person;--but just as you please. What areyour plans, if I may ask?" said Helen, feeling ill at ease. 

"Very plain and honest ones, Helen, " said May, measuring out the tea. 

"I should not suspect _you_, May, of any other, " said Helen, with asarcastic manner; "but let us hear them, if you are not ashamed ofthem!"

"I am ashamed of nothing, Helen, but the guilt of sin. As to my plans, I do not know that you feel any genuine interest in them; and, as weshall not meet often, I suppose, it is scarcely necessary to unfoldthem. "

"I have a motive in asking you, May--a good one, too. I wish to assistyou, " said Helen. 

"I thank you, dear Helen, but I really do not require the leastassistance. The sum my uncle left me, added to what I shall earn, willsupport me nicely, " she replied. 

"Earn! how? Shall you take in sewing?" screamed Helen. 

"No. I have rented a nice room from my old friend Mrs. Tabb, who keepsthe trimming store, and she has engaged to sell all the fancy knittingI can do. I am very well provided for, you perceive. "

"I perceive nothing of the kind. It is positively ridiculous anddisgraceful. What will the world say?" exclaimed Helen. 

"The world, dear Helen! What business has the world with me? I owe itnothing but its just tribute of good citizenship. Oh, Helen! the worldcan soothe no pang when sorrow comes;--it can bring us no peace whendeath touches our hearts with his inexorable hand. No, no; there areno interests in common between the world and me. "

"Gracious! what a fanatic!" said Helen, keeping down the wrestling andstruggling of her heart; and, with a careless air, throwing back thelong, bright curls, from her faultless face. "But listen to reason, May. You have been unfairly dealt with. I cannot reconcile the thingto either my pride or conscience. Walter feels as I do; and I can tellyou we are extremely anxious to have you become an inmate of ourfamily--to be in it, like myself, and feel free to act, and think, asyou please. I can assure you, Walter has a prodigiously high opinionof you. "

"Helen, " said May, fixing those clear luminous eyes on the shiftingcountenance of her cousin, "your offer is, no doubt, kindly meant--butI cannot accept it. I _would not_, Helen, if you offered me half yourfortune, live in a house so unblessed, as I _fear_--as I fear yourswill be. "

"And why such predictions?" asked Helen, haughtily. 

"Can one who defies the spirit of God by disobedience--and--yes, I mustsay it--_apostasy_, expect blessings? And could I, who daily imploreHeavenly Father to save me from temptation, thrust myself under itsinfluence? Oh, no! no, Helen. Enjoy life after your fashion--whirlthrough its giddy circles, if such is your choice--but leave me inobscurity, to follow out the path which leads to something beyond thegrave. But, dear Helen, let us part in peace--my prayers shall followyou; and I do beseech you, by the memory of the bitter passion anddeath of Jesus Christ, and the Dolors of His Immaculate Mother, toreflect, _sometimes_, on what should be the aims of an immortal soul!"

"You are a strange creature, May, " said Helen, with a quivering lip, and a momentary impulse to throw herself at May's feet, and confess herguilt, which flitted away. "You will visit me sometimes, May?"

"_If you are sick, or sorrowful, or repentant_, send for me. "

"But you will come and see how very happy I am. --Just once?"

"I cannot promise, Helen. Events will determine me, " replied May, in agentle tone. 

"I have a favor to ask, May, which you cannot refuse!" said Helen, witha degree of timidity unusual to her; "will you grant it?"

"I hope so, Helen. What is it?"

"There is a picture in our room--a valuable old painting of the _MaterDolorosa_. I always fancied there was a look of my mother, particularly about the eyes, in the countenance. I should like to haveit copied by some first-rate artist to hang up in my chamber. "

"Certainly, dear Helen. I would offer you the picture as a keep-sake, only it was highly prized by my father; and there are so manyassociations connected with it, which makes it very precious to me. Whenever you wish it, let me know, and I will go with it myself to theartist. "

The next day they parted. Helen, arrayed in costly silks, laces, andjewelry, went forth a bride, and pronounced irrevocable vows, whichmade her the wife of a man, who, highly honorable in a worldly sense, was the professed enemy of the creed she professed. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE DEATH DREAM. 

While the splendid festivities which succeeded Helen's marriageafforded a topic of conversation for the _bon ton_ of three cities, Maywas quietly preparing to leave the old house, beneath whose roof shehad learned so many lessons of self-denial, patience, and constancy;while she found time, each day, to pay her accustomed visit to oldMabel, who was approaching nearer and nearer her eternal rest. Inserving her, May felt richly rewarded by the edification she derivedfrom her simple piety, and the perfect resignation and joyfulsubmission she evinced to the Divine Will. She was frequentlyastonished at the untaught eloquence of her expressions, and thebeautiful humility of her language, when she spoke of the mercy ofAlmighty God, and lifted up her heart in joyful aspirations andeffusions of love, to JESUS and MARY. The sacred and crucified, Humanity of ONE, and the suffering and anguish of the Humanity of theOTHER, seemed to condescend so entirely to her low estate, that thedivinity of JESUS, and the measureless love of MARY, His Mother, werefolded like a garment around her, and strengthened, and consoled, andbrightened her path, as she approached the shadow through which she wasto pass. And while May's inmost heart united its pure emotions inharmony with the mysteries of faith and grace, the words of an oldEnglish poet rippled through her mind in sweet accord with them. 

 "If bliss had lay in art or strength, None but the wise or strong had gained it; Where now by faith, all arms are of a length, One size doth all conditions fit. A peasant may believe as much As a great clerk, and reach the highest stature; Thus dost Thou make proud knowledge bend and crouch, _While grace fills up uneven nature_. " [1]

When May had proposed to Mrs. Tabb to live, or, rather, lodge with her, nothing of its kind could exceed the enthusiastic reception she met. She poured out a torrent of exclamations and superlatives, which setall the rules of grammar at defiance. Then she broke out in thevociferous indignation at "the old miser's meanness, " and last, andmore outrageous than all, were her reflections on "upstartish misses, who drop from the clouds when no one expects them, and get all andevery thing that them ought to had, who had been waiting, and bearingwith people's meanness and ill-humor from their cradels up. " And if, at that moment, she had not tilted her snuff-box, which was filled withScotch snuff, over, under May's nose, whereupon both were seized with aparoxysm of sneezing, which was an effectual interruption to hertirade, she would have been silenced by a few charitable explanations. 

When May returned home, she found Mr. Jerrold waiting in the parlor. He offered his hand; and there was such an air of sincerity in hismanner, that it dispelled all May's reserve. 

"I have brought Helen's love, " he said, while he uncovered amagnificent bouquet, "and these roses and violets. They are the firstof the season. "

"These are _very, very_ beautiful and fragrant, and I thank you mostheartily for them. How is Helen?"

"She is looking well, but she falls occasionally into fits ofdespondency, which is either the result of much fatigue andexcitement, or some cause which she does not wish to explain. I wishyou would come and live with us. Helen needs a sister, " said the youngman. 

"Dear Mr. Jerrold, " said old-fashioned May, "I have tried to find myway to Helen's heart, but, to be frank with you, our ways lie toodifferently. Helen will have none of my friendship on those terms onwhich I alone can give it. But you do not understand it all. --You area Protestant, and wish to see Helen one; therefore, _I_ should be adiscord in your house, because, if there, _my duty_ would not allow meto hold my peace. "

"Helen is too young and beautiful to mope about religion, " he said, carelessly. "When she gets older, and is more tied down by domesticcares, it will be necessary and respectable for her to be religious;and then, egad, if she wishes it, I'd as lief she'd be a Catholic asany thing else. "

"Helen will be ill-prepared, I fear, for a life of pious example, ifshe devotes all of her energies now to the world. _Grace_, you know, sir, is not a human thing which can be bought with money, or worldlyeloquence, " replied May, earnestly. 

"Helen has no truer friend, I believe, on my honor, May, than yourself;but, really, she must enjoy life a little longer; then I will turn herover to you and her father confessor;--but I came for a purpose, to-day. "

"A friendly one, I am sure!" said May. 

"Yes. I saw Mr. Fielding this morning, and consulted him about theexpediency of your remaining _here_, as you wont live with us. We wishthe place kept up;--it is a _curioso_ in its way--an _antique_ with allits appurtenances; and I do not know any one more in keeping with it, than cousin May. "

May laughed. "You think that, as we harmonize so exactly, we should bea mutual protection to each other?"

"Precisely. Will you remain?"

"No. It would be pleasant on some accounts, but would not be at allsuitable on others. A residence here would very materially interruptthe objects and aims of my life, in which pursuit I can alone be happy. "

"Dodona's Cave! How oracular!" said Mr. Jerrold, laughing outright. "Explain, dear Sopho, your argument!"

"Will you understand? But _how_ can you, a Protestant, understand themotive power of a Catholic heart?" said May. 

"Proceed. I will give you oracle for oracle. I am a Protestant inprinciple, but not in fact, " was the light reply. 

"I have always felt that while I ate no idle bread I was of some use onearth. I have always been accustomed to an active life. Labor givesone an opportunity of learning many virtues;--_patience_ amongst them, and not the least, humility. I should have nothing to do, here. Thenecessity for exertion would be gone; and, really, I am too much afraidof _myself_, to trust to exigencies. No, no! I must have an aim whichwill require the exercise of my most active energies. Dependence willnot suit me. "

"That is it, " broke in Mr. Jerrold. "Pride is at the bottom of thewhole argument. May! this moment you are as proud as the devil!"

"Oh, sir! pray do not think that. I really feel extremely grateful foryour kind intentions, " said May, looking distressed. "I have otherreasons, which I cannot very well explain, for choosing the way of lifethat I have. Only please to understand this, that I should be verymiserable, if I were placed, _now_, in a situation which would leave mewithout responsibility. "

"You are a paradox. You ought to be ten feet high, May, with such awill as yours. You won't live with us, because we are so wicked thatyou'd have to preach to us about our sins; and you won't live here, because you're afraid you'll get as bad as we are. Well, well! behappy your own way, and come and see Helen when you can, " said Mr. Jerrold, laughing, as he got up to leave. 

"I feel your kindness deeply, Mr. Jerrold. I hope you are not hurt oroffended?"

"Not in the least. I think you are bearing your wrongs like a saint;and I wish I was only half as good, " replied Mr. Jerrold, shaking handswith her. 

"Tell Helen that I am thankful for the flowers, and will offer themthis evening, with a prayer for her conversion, to OUR MOTHER, " saidMay. 

"I thought her mother was dead and buried!" thought Mr. Jerrold, as hewalked down the street. "What a curious little soul she is!"

After dinner, May went to inform Father Fabian that she had declinedMr. Fielding's offer, and would remove to Mrs. Tabb's in the course ofa day or two. But she saw him in the garden walk in the rear of thehouse, walking to and fro, reading his office, and went into thechurch, where she offered the rich bouquet Helen had sent her, on theshrine of _Our Lady, the refuge_; after which, she said, with greatdevotion, a decade of the rosary, for her conversion. Father Fabianwas standing in the door when she returned, and watched her, as sheapproached, with a grave, but quizzical, expression of countenance. 

"I am glad to see you, my child, in your long dresses yet, " he said, holding out his hand, kindly. 

"Sir, " said May, looking perplexed. 

"I did not feel sure but that you had adopted the new school so much infavor with your sex, judging from all that I have heard, " he replied, laughing. 

"What new school? What have you heard, Father?" she asked, anxiously. 

"The strong-minded women's-school!"

"I see that you have some jest at my expense, and I must be patientuntil it is explained, " said May, sitting down. 

"Yes, yes; be patient. "

"Will you not tell me, Father, what I have done?"

"May, do you believe that you burned the will the night your uncle laydying?" asked Father Fabian, abruptly. 

"I do not think I did. I may, however, have done so. "

"Mr. Fielding intends to endeavor to set aside the will which wasfound. He had good legal reasons to expect that he can secure you anequal share of your uncle's estate with your cousin. "

"I hope he will do no such thing, sir. I am quite satisfied. "

"But he and the witnesses to the _other will_ are not, because thereare very important public and religious interests involved in its loss. "

"If that is the case, I can only object so far as I am individuallyconcerned, " said May; "but I hope most earnestly that Mr. Fielding willlet the matter rest a short time longer--a few months, for the longer Ithink of it that I did not burn the will, and I feel a presentimentthat it will come to light, " said May, earnestly. 

"And you will not give your consent, as one of the heirs, to go to law?"

"Not yet--not yet, Father. Let us wait a little. If it is mislaid, itmay be found; if any one has wronged me by secreting it, they mayrepent. "

"Was there ever such a wild goose on earth?" said Father Fabian, laughing. "You know as much about the world _now_, May, as you dideighteen years ago, when you were just two months old. "

"But, Father, you have always taught me to have faith in God, and toldme in all difficulties to have recourse to him and the Blessed Virgin. If it is for his glory, and the good of his creatures, the lost willwill be found, " she said, earnestly. 

"You are right, my child. God's holy will be done, " said FatherFabian, lifting his _bounet-carre_ from his brow. "But, having turneda theological point against me, can you explain your most obstinaterefusal to accept of Mr. Fielding's and Mr. Jerrold's kind offers of ahome, where ease, luxury, and elegance would attend you? You seemdetermined to take a stand against your interests in every way. Whatrational objection can you oppose to their offers?"

"Dear Father, are you displeased with your poor child?" asked May, withhumility. 

"To be frank, my dear child, I consider your conduct a little unusual, "said Father Fabian, looking down to conceal the smile that brightenedhis eyes. "How could you act so?"

"Simply and frankly because I wished to be _free_. "

"Woman's rights! As I suspected, woman's rights!" exclaimed FatherFabian, lifting his hands with horror. 

"_Soul's rights_, Father! _Soul's rights!_" said May, in animpassioned manner. "I could not live with Helen in peace withoutspiritual bondage. Her way of life would leave me no neutral ground tostand on. She has forsaken her religion; every act of hers istherefore open rebellion against God, and I must have raised my voicein one incessant clamor had I lived with her. Had I gone to dear, kindMr. Fielding, he might have made demands on time which I have devotedto religion, which my gratitude might have disposed me to yield to. But I am grateful to them all for their kind intentions, and I am sure, if their friendship is real, they will be happier to know that I amhappy in my own way. "

"Is this all, May?" asked Father Fabian, who suspected her ofentertaining other reasons still. 

"I had hoped to keep it secretly, but I have another reason. You knowthat I am blamed for the loss of that will, which made noble bequeststo the poor and destitute. I may be guilty; I cannot pretend to saythat I am not, therefore, as a sort of reparation to those afflictedones, who would have been relieved by my uncle's bounty, of which Iperhaps, by an act of carelessness have deprived them, I have made avow to dedicate my life, my energies, and will, to the service of thepoor in active and laborious works, " said May, with a grave and humblemanner. 

"Your motives are good, my child; only let us be careful not to seekour own gratification too much, either temporal or spiritual, in ourworks. I certainly acquit you of all _modern chivalry_. I will seeMr. Fielding about that affair this evening, and request him topostpone it. "

"If you please, Father, " said May, over whose countenance a shadow hadfallen. 

"What is the trouble now, little one?" asked Father Fabian. 

"Have I been presumptuous, Father? Have I been lifting up my hands toheaven like the Pharisee, and thanking God that I am not like others?Oh, Father, I think I should rather die than be self-righteous!"

"I think not, my child. Only we must not rely too much on ourintentions, which may be, morally speaking, good, but spiritually bad, if they are not united with great humility. I should be false to yoursoul's interests if I dealt not plainly with you. But go now to yourold pensioner. I administered to her this morning the last rites ofthe Church, and think it more than possible that before another sunriseshe will have passed away from this life of mourning and gloom. "

"I thought yesterday evening, when I was there, that her sufferingswere nearly at an end, " said May, wiping off a tear. 

"Her dispositions are perfect, " continued Father Fabian. "Oh, in thelast hour, if the soul is right before God, how vain appears all humanlearning! how little the wisdom of ages! how less than nothing thesplendor and grandeur of riches! Soon--very soon, that ignorant andpoverty-stricken old negro, who, like Lazarus, has been lying at thedoor of the rich, great world, humbly thankful for the crumbs she hasreceived, will be endowed with knowledge and wisdom; she will read andhave solved mysteries which the greatest sages of antiquity, and theprofoundest philosophers of modern times have shrunk from, overwhelmedwith the vastness of their conception. She will have looked on theface of Him who suffered for her, and be, through his divine mercy, andthe merits of his bitter passion, admitted into eternal rest. Ohfaith, mistress of learning! Oh humility, without which the learnedshall not enter heaven! Possess our hearts--reign in our souls forever. But go now; tell her I will see her in the morning, unless sheis beyond my reach. "

It was a clear, soft evening. The sky, as the sun declined, was filledas with the brightness of flashing wings, while the golden light brokein ripples around the isles of cloud that hung over the deep. Theflute-like whistle of the blue-bird, and the odor of violets, and youngbudding leaves, were in the air together--music, light, and fragrance, like harmonies from the spirit-land, blending softly together. Theearth was clothed in its new garment, for spring had risen from thegrave, and its resurrection was glorious. Over the ways of the city, and in the suburban lanes; in the glens and dells of the forest, andthe distant slopes of the blue hills; over the mounds of the silentdead, where the germs of infinite life are planted, --where, likepearls, lying beneath the earth-billows, they will sleep in theirsealed shells until, from the eastern gates of heaven, springs theeternal dawn, which shall gather them in, clothed with new light, to beset amongst the crown-jewels of God, --the sweet clover, the tendergrass, and wild flowers were springing together. In flowed all thissweetness down to the depths of May's soul, as she walked along, andled her feelings sweetly up to that clime of which the fairest andpurest of earth-born things are only the gray shadows; and rejoicing innature and high hope, she came in sight of Mabel's cottage. She sawthe child who lived with her, and called her grandmother, playing aboutthe door, and beckoning to her, inquired "how she was?"

"I'se right well, missy. Granny's asleep. "

"How is she?" again, asked May. 

"She's heap better, missy; she bin sleep dis ever so long. "

"Very well. You can play out here a little longer; but don't go away, and I will go in and wait until Aunt Mabel wakes, " said May, giving hersome ginger-bread she had bought for her. The child, glad of itsfreedom, remained watching the birds and clouds. 

May opened the door, and entered softly. She went towards the bed, andsaw that the mysterious and awful change, which tells that theinexorable decree is gone forth, and the "arrow fastened, " was fastsettling on old Mabel's features. Yet there was nothing uncouth orgrotesque in that shrivelled and swarthy face, because FAITH, whichleads death captive, had shed over them a supernatural calm, whichennobled them with a solemn sweetness. Her poor old hand, so longwithered and helpless, dropped beside her; the other, around which herrosary was wrapped, lay on her breast. May took off her bonnet andscarf, and knelt down to say the dolorous mysteries of the rosary. "Remember, oh most loving Mother, by these, thy own dolors, the soul ofthy poor servant, who will soon be engaged in her last earthlyconflict. Rescue, oh Mother of Sorrows, through thy intercession, andthe bitter passion and death of thy Divine Son, from the foes who liein wait for her soul, and conduct her under thy safeguard to eternallight and peace. " Thus prayed the Christian maiden by the dying slave;_caste_, _race_, and _fetters_ were falling together into the deepabyss of death. She would soon know the glorious freedom of one of theheirs of Christ. 

"Oh, lady! oh, beautiful missis! this is a mean place for your crownedhead and shining robes to come into. And who are those beside you, glorious and fair?" murmured the old woman, suddenly stretching out_both_ arms towards the door, and looking earnestly beyond May atsomething unseen. 

"Queen of Heaven! how is it that you come to me? I am not worthy tolift my eyes to yours, yet you are here, " she continued, while an awe, unspeakable and sweet, fell on May, who did not move. 

"To deliver my soul, and conduct me to the feet of your Divine Son?"she said, after a short pause, as if some one had answered her, and sherepeated the words. 

"Oh grace! oh splendor! oh sweetness! oh clemency! oh hope!" sheexclaimed. "If I could, I would be worthy of such love--I would spreadgold and precious things at your feet; but I am only a poor old negro, covered with patches and shreds. But fill my heart with all the loveit can hold, and take that--it's all I've got to offer. " Again, as iflistening, she paused, then, with a smile of rapture, cried out, "LoveJesus! love Mary! Oh, Jesus! oh, Mary! my soul is filled with Jesusand Mary!" Then her eyes closed, her hands sunk down, and she seemedto sleep again. 

"Was it a vision? Was it a dream?" thought May; "or had she been inthe presence of MARY and the angels of heaven? Had they surroundedher, as she watched and prayed by the side of the dying woman? Shecould not tell, but she _felt_ that the air had been stirred byheavenly visitants. Ere long old Mabel awoke, and looked wildly andeagerly around her; then her eyes settled on May's countenance. 

"How do you feel, Aunt Mabel, now?" she asked, in a low voice. 

"Honey, I've had a dream! Such a glorious dream! I thought the dooropened, and the Blessed Virgin, surrounded by bright spirits, came in, and stood around me; and it seemed to me that I was so full of joy, that I lifted up my old shrivelled arm to welcome her. Oh, my dearmissis! I never see so much brightness and beauty together before, andnever heard such joyful sounds. It seemed like music talking. And, honey, what is stranger than all, I saw you there, and I thought theBlessed Virgin took a white lily out of her bosom, and laid it on yourhead, and smiled. Oh, missy, wasn't it comforting to have such adream?"

"It was a glorious dream, Aunt Mabel!" said May, while the blood, withrapturous motion, bounded through her veins, and filled her face with aglowing hue. "You seemed to _see_ it all. Your eyes were open, andyour lame arm was really stretched out towards the door, as if towelcome some bright company. Oh may that white flower, which you sawlaid on my head, go down, and take deep root in my heart. "

"It will, honey. Let me kiss your hand, and lay mine on your head, little missy. You've been my earthly helper, and your Heavenly Fatherwill be yours. My blessing aint of no account, but I give it to youwith all my feeble powers. May you be blessed in every thing in thisworld and the next. It's growing mighty dark now, honey; hold my hand, till it grows light again. " With a last effort, she lifted May's handto her lips, and kissed it; then a deep lethargy stole over her. Maysaid the prayers for the departing soul, and recommended the dying oneto the tender care of the Immaculate Mother of Jesus. A ray from thesetting sun, stealing through the trees without, flowed into the shadedroom, and rested on her pillow in flickering radiance; and ere itpassed away, her spirit had sped from its tenement of clay to undergothe judgment which, after death, every soul must stand. It was a sweetfalling asleep with her, so gently had death released her from thebonds of flesh. An hour passed by, and still May knelt, absorbed inprayer, and earnest intercession for the departed. It was growingdark, and rising up, she straightened and composed old Mabel's limbs;and covering her face, went out and called the child, and bid her gofor one of the neighboring women to come in, and prepare the body forinterment. She looked in the chest for the grave-clothes which the oldwoman had kept and guarded as her only treasure for years and years;and finding every thing needful in the parcel, gave it to the woman, with strict injunctions to arrange every thing with the greatestdecency, and watch by her through the night. Promising to be thereearly in the morning to pay and relieve her, she hurried to FatherFabian to leave word with him, and request him to make the necessaryarrangements for the interment--the expenses of which she wished todefray herself. It was quite dark when she got home, and feelingwearied and overcome, she retired early, filled with gratitude for theprivilege she had enjoyed, of seeing one so good and humble as oldMabel die. Death had assumed to her a benign and holy aspect; shealmost felt, "_There is no Death. What seems so is Transition. _ This life of mortal breath Is but the suburbs of that Life Elysian, _Whose portals we call Death. _" [2]

The next day Father Fabian, in the presence of a few poor neighbors, performed the last touching rites of the Church over the inanimate bodyof old Mabel--the body which, "sown in dishonor, would be raised inhonor" to eternal life. May walked beside the coffin as it was borneto the grave, nor left the spot until the last clod of earth was thrownon it; then, when it was deserted by all else, as constant in death asshe had been in life, she kneeled down beside it, and offered upfervent prayers for her eternal repose. 

[1] Herbert. 

[2] Longfellow. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

REMORSE. 

It was near day-dawn. A splendid carriage, drawn by a span ofthorough-paced horses, whose black coats shone in the moonlight likejet, while they champed their silver bits, and blew the white frothwith the breath of their proud nostrils out like spray over the richtrappings of their harness, rolled with a rapid, but almost noiselessmotion, through one of the broad streets of a fashionable quarter ofthe city. The light which flickered down from the silver coach-lampsrevealed magnificent hangings of brocade and velvet, looped back withtwisted cords of silk and silver thread. The driver and footman wereclad in livery which corresponded with the elegant style of theequipage. They turned in a broad, aristocratic-looking square, anddrew up in front of a handsome and spacious mansion. The officiousfootman sprung to the pavement, swung back the carriage-door, and heldout his gloved hand to assist a lady, who was within to get out. 

"No need, sirrah, " she said, haughtily, as she stepped lightly out, andran up the broad marble steps of the mansion, where, heedless of herstainless and delicate gloves, she seized the bell-knob, and rungviolently. During the few moments she waited for admission, her foot, clad in white satin, beat the threshold with a light, but restlessmotion. Her brocade-robe about which costly laces hung in gossamerclouds, rustled down in rich folds to the marble floor of thevestibule, while with every pulsation of her heart, and movement of herbody, gems flashed out in the moonlight. Long, shining curls, slightlytossed by the night breeze, floated down over her cheeks and bosom, half concealing the rare beauty of her face. It was Helen! The doorwas at length opened, and attended by her drowsy maid, she hurried upto her chamber. It was a lofty, and beautifully proportioned room, filled with every thing the most luxurious fancy could desire, andarranged with fastidious taste and elegance. Flowers were heaped up inEastern vases, near the open window, and deep-cushioned chairs, andsoftly pillowed lounges, covered with pale, saffron-colored silk, werearranged here and there throughout the gorgeous room. The low, andexquisitely carved French bedstead was half hidden by a flowing draperyof embroidered lace, which, depending from a small hoop ofmother-of-pearl in the ceiling, hung like a tent over it. Thetoilette-table was elaborately furnished. Between its twisted rosewoodpillars, which were inlaid with pearl, in graceful device, swung animmense oval mirror, set in a frame of the same materials. Near itstood a small marble table, supported by an alabaster Psyche, aroundwhich were strewn perfumes, jewel-cases, and various costly articlesfor toilette uses. On each side of the mirror projected gas-burners inthe form of clusters of lilies--the flowers being of the purestporcelain, and the rest highly gilt and embossed. Helen threw herselfdown wearily in a large chair, while her maid turned up the light, which was burning dimly, to a brighter flame, which revealed moreminutely the splendors of the room. Over the toilette-glass hung apicture--there were no others on the frescoed walls; it was set farback in a superb oval frame of ivory and gold, and as the brilliantglare of lights shot upwards, an exquisite painting of the _MaterDolorosa_ could be distinctly seen--a strange companion, or presidinggenius, or ornament for the shrine for pride and vanity. 

"You can go now, Elise, " said Helen languidly. 

"Shall I not undress madame's hair, and put her jewels away?" inquiredthe Frenchwoman with an air of amazement. 

"No--leave me at once, " she replied, impatiently. 

"Deshabillez-vous, " muttered the woman. "To tell me go! I who was_fille-de-chambre_ to une Grande Duchesse! Mon dieu! la chaleur esttres-incommode! _Ingrat--parvenu_! _Un_--deux--trois! Il est tempsde se coucher. " Helen had just touched her repeater, and with itssoft, silvery chime, it struck three. Elise hurried away from thedoor, where she had lingered, in hopes of being recalled, to comfortherself with a glass of _eau-de-sucre_, ere she returned to her pillow. Helen got up and locked her door, and began to walk to and fro. By andby the past, mingling with the present, made such a torrent of bittermemories seethe and sweep through her desolate soul, that she wrung herhands, and rushed backwards and forwards like one mad. In her wildmood, she saw the glitter of her jewels, as she swept by the largemirror of her toilette. She paused, gazed at herself a moment, then, with a frantic gesture, tore the diamonds from her hair and neck, andwith a bitter laugh dashed them from her. Her beautiful face, as whiteas the alabaster Psyche near her, was full of wild and demoniacexpressions, which chased each other with the velocity of clouds overher countenance. Remorse, anguish, and despair settled like a broodingtempest on her forehead; then wringing her hands, she again commencedher walk. 

"A lie, " she muttered, "a splendid, living lie. Widows and orphanswronged--the poor defrauded--the church wounded and robbed by thee, Helen! A husband who trusts me--who believes me--honorable and truehimself--confiding in a nature _utterly_ false--and leaning on a heartrotten to the core! Oh, Helen! eternal loss will surely be thine--soit is better to _die_ ere madness comes, and divulges the dark secret. Walter is away; he will be here at sunrise. Better for him to findthee, Helen, calm and cold in the beauty of which he is so proud, thanlive to know that thou art _all a lie_--which he would tear away fromhis honest heart, and throw to the very dogs!"

While these dark thoughts swept through the heart of the tempted anddespairing one, she unlocked a secret drawer in her jewel-case, andtook from it a small silver casket, which she opened. It contained acrystal _flacon_, filled with a liquid, transparent, and of a palerose-color. "One drop of it, " she whispered, "one single drop, andwithout a pang, this unrest and anguish will be over. That which is_beyond_ cannot be worse!" Just then a strong current of air rushed inthrough the open window, and blew the jet of gas, in a stream ofbrilliance, up towards the picture of the _Mater Dolorosa_. The suddenglare arrested the attention of the wretched, sin-stained one. Shelooked up, and her eyes, glaring with the frenzy of evil, met theineffably tender and sorrowful face of MARY; which, with its tears, andexpression of submissive and sublime woe, its folded hands, its meekbrow, seemed bowed towards her. She paused, while, with thedistinctness of a whisper, these thoughts passed through her soul. "Wretched one, forbear! Wound not again my Divine Son, whose body isalready covered with stripes and bruises for thee. Open not my heartagain, which is already pierced for thy salvation! Hope! It was forsuch as thee that my Son, Jesus, suffered on the cross; for such asthee, that I immolated my soul, my nature, my maternal love, on thatbloody altar with Him. "

"Was it the wind? No! the sweetest winds of earth could not have drawnsuch language from the corrupt and frenzied chords of my spirit. Nodemon whispered it!" exclaimed Helen, still gazing upwards. "Was it aheavenly warning _for me_, the most miserable outcast on the wideearth?" The mad tempest was dispersed; it rolled back its sullenclouds from her soul; and, with a trembling cry for mercy, shestaggered towards a large chair, into which she fell, fainting andexhausted. 

As the sun was rising, Walter Jerrold, who had travelled all night fromNew York, whither he had been on business of importance, opened hishouse-door with a private key, and entered without disturbing theservants. He ran up to Helen's door, and finding it locked, opened hisdressing-room, which adjoined hers, with the same key, and pushing backthe silk draperies which hung between them, went in, and, to his alarmand amazement, saw her, still arrayed in her festal robes sleeping inthe chair, into which she had fallen. Her face was as white as thedrooping roses on her bosom, and her countenance wore an expression ofpain. 

"Helen!" he whispered, as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Helen, are you ill?"

"Will! It was burnt. Will!" she cried, starting up, and lookingwildly around her. "Oh, Walter! I am so glad you are here at last. Ihave had a frightful dream. "

"Helen, you are ill, I fear. What means this unwonted confusion;--haveyou been out, and just come in? What is the meaning of it all--and_what is this_?" he said, while he stooped down to pick up the crystal_flacon_ which had dropped out of its case on the floor. 

"Dear Walter, don't open it, for the world! It is a cosmetic. I amtoo white, sometimes, and touch my cheeks with it, " exclaimed Helen, starting up; "do give it to me. "

"No, Helen; my wife must be _real_ in all things. I do not approve ofartificial coloring; so, to save you from temptation, I shall put itout of your reach!" replied her husband, throwing the _flacon_ out intothe street. A lean, hungry dog, prowling about in search of food, rushed to the spot--hoping, no doubt, that it was a morsel from therich man's table--but no sooner had his nose touched the spot, then, uttering a loud howl, he fell dead. 

"Helen! explain this mystery!" he exclaimed, grasping her hand, anddrawing her to the window. "Are your cosmetics all poisons as deadlyas that?"

"Walter! this is horrible! Poison? Why, Walter, it might have killedme!" she gasped, hiding her pallid face in his bosom. 

"Helen, answer me, by the love and trust I bear you, did you know thatthe contents of that _flacon_ were poisonous? Look up, dear Helen, andanswer me, yes or no. "

"No, Walter--on my honor, no. You have saved me from a horribledeath, " she replied, raising her head, and looking, with a strongeffort into his eyes. 

Thus was Helen driven, with scourges, by her task-master, the greattempter of souls, into slough after slough, from which, there was butone escape, and that lay through a rugged way, called REPENTANCE. Butrepentance, to her vision, was like a shoreless ocean, or a fiercedeity to whose exacting nature she must sacrifice all that she helddear on earth, or perish. But her husband's love and esteem--herill-gotten riches--her position--her luxuries! Could she live withoutthem? _If she could repent without making restitution_, she would. But she well knew that such repentance would be fruitless. And thus, while, to the world, she moved calmly in her proud beauty, and wasenvied by the miserable, for the apparent happiness and splendor of herlot, a fierce beast was tugging at her heart-strings, more savage thanthat which tore the vitals of the boy of Lacedaemon. It was remorse. 

"Helen!" said Walter Jerrold, calmly, "have you any grief or mysteryhidden from me, my wife? I am like a helpless child, now in yourhands; you may deceive me, and triumph in your concealment--but donot--do not, Helen, for God's sake, do it. Open your whole heart tome. I love you well enough to lift the burden, if there be one, fromit, to my strong shoulders; and if--if--if--you have ever erred, let mehear it from no lips but your own. "

Helen would have cast herself at his feet and told him all, but shefeared he would spurn her--she longed to deserve the love of his manlyand honest heart, but too weak, too much a coward, she shrunk from theagony and peril of a confession of her guilt. And Jerrold! was he notmad to expect to find a true and loving spouse in one who had cast offher allegiance to God?

"You are mistaken, Walter. Really, you have made quite a scene! Ifear that you are romantic! For, really except when my nervous moodscome over me, I am not aware that there is any thing unusual in myconduct. I am excessively nervous and excitable. I was dancing allnight. I went with your mother to Mrs. Woodland's ball, which was amost brilliant affair. It was after two o'clock when I came home. Youmay be sure I was tired. Then I concluded to give you a littlesurprise by waiting up for you; and, as I looked very haggard, took outthat precious cosmetic to tint my cheeks--all, dear Walter, to welcomeyou; but I was too much fagged, and went off into a sound, vulgarsleep!" said Helen, going to her toilette-table to adjust her hair, while she laughed as if the whole thing had been an amusing adventure. "It will learn you to run off again, " she continued. 

"Well, well--perhaps I am exacting; but understand one thing, Helle, about me, " said Walter Jerrold, gravely, "I can bear with, and forgive_errors_--but deception, _never_. "

"Walter!" said Helen, reproachfully, while tears suffused her fine eyes. 

"Forgive me, Helle, if my words grate on your feelings. It is best formarried folk to understand each other's peculiarities as early aspossible. Shall I ring for Elise, for you are tangling and tearingyour hair to pieces?"

"If you please. I will soon join you, if you will tell me where tofind you, " she replied, with assumed composure. 

"At the breakfast table, I trust, " he said, pleasantly; "I am thirstingfor a cup of mocha, after my long journey. "

"I suspect you will find it ready. I ordered them to have it readyearly;--but see, Walter! have you any special engagement this forenoon?"

"Nothing _very_ particular after ten, Helen. Why?"

"Why, you know that _Matinées_ are all the rage now. I hold my firstone to-day. --All the world have promised to come!"

"You don't want me, then?" he said, laughing. 

"Of course I do. It will look proper for you to be present at the_first_. People can't be ill-natured then. I've heard a great manyqueer stories about the _Matinées_. "

"It is well to be prudent in these fashionable follies, Helle--touchsome of them with gloves on. I do not like this new style of thing, but if it's the fashion, we must fall in. I'll come, provided there isno scandal and high play, " he said, laughing. 

As the hour for the _Matinée_ approached, Helen's drawing-roomspresented a _coup d'oeil_ of splendor and elegance. Daylight wascarefully excluded; and alabaster lamps threw a soft, moon-litradiance, through flowers and garlands, over the scene. The costlymirrors, the magnificent furniture, of the time of _Louis le Grande_, the lofty, frescoed ceiling, the exquisite statuary, and rarepaintings, were all in fine keeping with each other, and gave, what anartist would call, tone and harmony to the scene. Attired in whitecrape and pearls, Helen had never looked more lovely; and of all whocrowded with compliments around her, there was not one to rival her. Group after group of the _beau monde_ made their way to the head of theroom, where she, with her high-bred worldly air, received them with asmile and pleasant passing words. 

"Your _Matinée_ is the most brilliant of the season, Mrs. Jerrold, "said a fashionable old lady, with a dowager air--such a one as we meetwith constantly in society, who, tangled up in laces, false hair, and amodish style of dress, look like old faries at a christening, and whoimpress the young and inexperienced by their affected zest that thefleeting pleasures of life are immortal. "Your _matinée_ is reallysplendid! Such a fashionable company--so much beauty--really, itreminds me of old times. But, my dear creature, did you know there isthe greatest sensation in town now about religion?"

"How?" asked Helen, smiling. 

"The Romanists are holding something they call a _mission_ at thecathedral, and really, I am told, that the performances are veryimpressive. It is quite the fashion to go for an hour. "

"It is never considered _outre_ to go to the cathedral, as the very_élite_ of our society are Catholic, and attend there; but _entrenous_, shall _you_ go, Mrs. Jerrold?" observed a lady near them. 

"Yes, " continued the dowager, with a spiteful air; "and very fewparvenues amongst them. Most of them sprung from something better thanlow trades-people. "

"Granted. No doubt they enjoy their pedigree as much as I do thesubstantial fortune my grandfather acquired by trade, " said the lady, pleasantly. "But, Mrs. Jerrold, the music is fine, the preachersuperbly eloquent, and every body goes now, instead of attending theopera!"

This grated on Helen's ears. Classing the Church with the opera! Butwhat right had she, who trampled it under foot, to complain?

"Really, I have heard nothing of this mission before!" she said, withan indifferent air. "What is it?"

"I really cannot tell exactly. Thousands go, and thousands come awaybecause they can't be accommodated with seats. Altogether with themusic, the eloquent preaching, and the crowd, it is quite a_spectacle_. "

"Yes, " put in the dowager; "and that is all. It is a _spectacle_!"

"Judge Craven's wife and Major Boyd are amongst the converts; and theRev. Allan Baily, " said the lady, with a wink at Helen. 

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the dowager; "Mr. Baily! It must be a lie--Ideclare it must!"

"Will you have my _sal-volatile_, madam?" said the malicious lady, enjoying the scene, while she offered her vinaigrette. 

"I won't believe it. Who told you, Mrs. Grayson?"

"Himself, " replied Mrs. Grayson, calmly. 

"He's crazy! He's been flighty these two years, with his long coats, and fast-days, and confession, " cried the dowager, fanning herselfviolently, and snuffing the _sal-volatile_, until she grew purple inthe face. "As to the others, they are doting. I'll go this moment, ifyou'll excuse me, Mrs. Jerrold, and make my coachman drive me there;and if he has done so, I'll rouse him, as sure as I have a tongue in myhead. I knew him when he was a boy, and I protest against it, " shesaid, screaming like an angry macaw, as she fluttered out. 

"The town's crazy about Mr. Baily's conversion. I am not surprised atMrs. Fanshaw's excitement. But let us make up a party, and go tonight, Mrs. Jerrold. The gentleman who conducts this thing, and pulls thewires, is a man of irresistible eloquence. He was one of us a fewyears ago. "

"It would be dangerous to venture, I should think, " said Helen, with adim smile; "but if Mr. Jerrold has no other engagement--"

"Is it of the famous 'Mission' you are speaking, Helen?" interruptedher mother-in-law, rustling in silk and jewels, "Yes; of course we mustgo. We shall be quite out of the fashion, if we do not. The most_distingué_ persons in town are to be there this evening. "

"I fear the opera and assembly will have but a slim attendance, " saidWalter Jerrold in his pleasant, sarcastic way. 

"Oh, we shall get away in time for the assembly, which, by the by, isthe last of the season, " replied Mrs. Jerrold. "Helen, you lookcharmingly this morning. I declare you are the happiest couple I knowof in the world. "

Cards, scandal, chocolate, and ices, filled up the routine of the_Matinée_; then the guests rolled away in their carriages to dress fordinner, or leave cards at the doors of people, who they knew were out. It is the way of the world. 

"I should prefer not to go, Walter, " said Helen that evening at tea. 

"Nonsense. I have better faith in you, Helen, than to think _one_evening will put you in peril. Come, don't be a coward. I wish you tohear this eloquent, half-crazy enthusiast preach; then we can drop intothe opera, or assembly, whichever you wish. "

"In my hat and white _pegnoir_--how ridiculous, said Helen, with afaint smile. 

"No; come back and dress, if you choose. It will look ill for us tostay away when the others expect us and to be frank with you, Helle, Iwant to convince the world that my wife is not a _Romanist_. "

"Is any one so foolish as to suspect it now, Walter?" she said, bitterly. 

"Of course they do. And they'll be disappointed when they see that youneither bow down, nor cross yourself. " It was not meant, but everyword her husband said told down like drops of fire, into Helen's heart. "Come, shall we go?"

"Yes, " replied the sin-enslaved Helen. 

When the gay company arrived at the cathedral door, although it wasearly, they could scarcely make their way through the dense crowdswhich thronged the isles; but by patiently and gradually moving uptowards the transept of the church, they were at last successful infinding seats, which commanded a view of the altars and pulpit. Lightsin massive candelabra, and masses of flowers, of rare and rich dyes, covered the high altar. The tabernacle, which stood amidst this marblethrone, was draped with cloth of gold, and surrounded by clusters oftube-roses and lilies. Above all, the objects which arrested everywandering eye, was the carved image of the MAN OF SORROWS--thesuffering son of God! But it was not towards these that every Catholicsoul was drawn. They were only signs, which designated the spot wherethe real presence of Jesus lay; where, enshrined in the fairest ofearth's offerings, he invited their adoration. On each side the altarof the Madonna and the "Good Shepherd" were gorgeously decorated withlights and flowers. 

_Helen did not kneel_. _She did not cross herself_. She merely satdown, and looked with a haughty, tired air, around her. She did notobserve the priest as he came from the sanctuary, and ascended thepulpit, until she saw the attention of others directed towards him;then she lifted her glasses, gazed a few moments at him, thought him arather distinguished-looking person, and piqued by her husband'sobservation, turned away to watch the movements of a party who werecompelled to resort to walking over the backs of the pews to get totheir seats. But while her eyes roved around in search of novel andamusing sights--while she nodded to one acquaintance, and smiled atanother--what words are those which ring down into her soul? Why paleher cheeks, and why tremble the gem-decked fingers of her fair hand?Why do _tears_--_tears_--strange visitants to that haughty visage, rollover her cheeks? "_And there stood by the cross of Jesus, Mary, hismother!_" Again the clear sonorous voice of the speaker, filled with atender cadence and solemn sweetness, enunciated the words. Why doesHelen think of her picture at home--of the pitying glance it cast onher the night she committed that crime, which had almost wrecked hersoul? Why does she think of her interposition that very morning whichhad saved her from self-murder? It was from no voluntary will of herown; but these visions came, subduing and touching the rind of herweary heart, until it heaved with the throes of a new birth. Shelistens now. She cannot do otherwise, for the powerful voice of thepreacher rings out clear, distinct, and impressive. His eloquenceenchains every heart; in burning words, he assails every soul. Unbelievers, heretics, infidels, and lukewarm Catholics, hang on everysentence; nor disdain the tears which flow, while he tells of thedolors of Mary. Almost fainting, Helen leaned forward, and shaded herface; there was a pent-up agony in her heart, her brain ached, and thethrobbing of her pulses almost suffocated her; and when the preacherceased, she leaned back with a sigh of relief. But it was not overyet. The organ in deep-toned thunders, and notes of liquid music, wailed forth the dolorous harmony of Stabat Mater, while voices ofsurpassing sweetness sung the words. 

"I am ill, Walter--take me home, " gasped Helen. "I am overcome by theheat and crowd. "

"We must wait a little, Helen. The throng is so great that we cannotmove. Dry your face, and let me fan you. Every body is crying, Ibelieve--don't let that trouble you. See, Helle, even I have dropped atear in memory of those stupendous sorrows, " said Walter Jerrold, halfplayfully, and half in earnest. 

Then Helen leaned her face on her hands, while torrents of tearsdripped over the diamonds and rubies that decked her fingers. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

REPENTANCE. 

May was sitting in her neat little parlor, knitting and singing, whenthere came a curt, sharp rap on the door. 

"Come in, " she said, looking up; and Mr. Fielding walked in, heated andflurried. "I am very glad to see you, sir. Give me your hat, and letme fetch you a drink of cool water. "

"No, ma'am; I am not in a sufficiently pleasant mood with you to acceptyour hospitalities. I came on legal business, " he said, pursing up hismouth, and looking around. 

"I am sorry that you are offended with me, sir. What shall I do toobtain your forgiveness?" replied May, with a grave smile. 

"Do? What shall you do?" he said, mimicking her. "Do as you alwaysdo, and that is just what suits you, ma'am. "

"No; I'll do better. I will beg your pardon, and tell you that I am_really_ sorry to have grieved so kind a friend. And begging pardons_don't_ suit me, Mr. Fielding, for you must know I am very proud. "

"No doubt of it. You look proud here--living like a Parisian grisettein a garret, and delving from morning until night for your dailybread, " he said, testily. 

"Dear sir, I do not think I am like a _grisette_, and this is not agarret. Look around, and see if I am not very nice here. What can bepurer and cleaner than this matting, which still smells of the sweetgroves of Ceylon. See my chairs and sofa--did you ever see suchincomparable chintz? the white ground covered with roses andblue-bells! Here are my books, there my flowers, and this--you know_this_, do you not?" said May, leading him up to her little oratory. 

"No; I only know that the commandments order us not to worship gravenimages, " he said, gruffly. 

"You only say that, sir, for I am well assured that you believe no suchmonstrous thing. Oh no! no more than we worship the stars, which, intheir sparkling beauty, lead our thoughts to God. In these sacreddelineations we are reminded of our great examples, Jesus and Mary;they tell us better than books can do--better than our unfaithfulhearts can, whenever our eyes rest on them, that for us the Divine Sonand Immaculate Mother assumed the sin-offering of the world. Thesewhite hyacinths and violets are emblems of her purity and humility; andcarved crucifix, the image of incarnate patience and undying love. Oh, dear Mr. Fielding, I should be worse than a pagan, if I did not keepthese memorials of Jesus and Mary ever before me; if I did not let ashadow of my poor love for their infinite clemency and love expressitself in veneration for those images which remind me continually ofthem. "

"I didn't come here to talk polemics, " said Mr. Fielding, turning awayabruptly, and sitting down. 

"And will you please, most grave sir, to open the business which hasprocured me the honor of this visit?" said May, seating herself primlyin a chair opposite to him, and folding her little hands together withan air of dignity. Mr. Fielding coughed, to hide a laugh. 

"Where is Dr. Burrell?" he inquired. 

"Attending to his patients, I presume, " she replied, while her faceflushed up. 

"So. When did your ladyship see him last?"

"I am not aware that it concerns you especially to know, " she said, confused. 

"Yes it does. I have a right to know every thing about you _per fas etnefas_. Any one who will burn up a _will_, which would have secured toher a half million in funds and real estate, or, in case she did notburn the will, won't consent to set one aside, which the testatordeclared on his death-bed was null and void; who refused to come andkeep house for a childless old man, who would have treated her in everyrespect as an honored guest; who flew off like a fussy little wren, when her affluent cousin offered to provide for her; and who, last ofall, rejects one of nature's noblemen--the best match in the city--thedeuce knows for what; _I_ consider non compos mentis, and quite unableto take care of herself. "

May's countenance was a study while Mr. Fielding poured out this vialof wrath on her head. Smiles, and tears, and blushes flitted in brighttides over it, making it very radiant and beautiful; but when he summedup the evidence, and the true cause of his ire burst on her, shelaughed outright, with such a clear, merry peal, that Mr. Fielding wasobliged to yield to its influence. 

"You are an incorrigible little wretch, May! But tell me, soberly, _why_ you rejected Dr. Burrell?"

"Simply, sir, because I have not the remotest idea of marrying; and ifI had, I do not think I should find those sympathies, affinities, andqualities in Dr. Burrell which would secure my happiness. "

"Whew! whew!" exclaimed Mr. Fielding, waving his hat around his head;"_Ne quid nimis_!"

"Don't abuse me, sir, in an unknown tongue, " said May, seriously. 

"Child, do you expect to find so much excellence in one character onearth, as you desire?" said the old lawyer, putting his hat down. 

"I fear not, sir: but until I do, I shall remain single. "

"Well, you deserve to. If any one ever deserved the fate of an oldmaid, _you do_. But I want you to understand one thing. I have notgiven up my point about that will. According to your express commands, I have made no movement in the affair, but _nem. Con. _ I shall presentthe case at the present term of the Orphan's Court as a fraud. I havewaited long enough for your prayers and novenas, or whatever it is youcall them. It is very clear to me that the powers on high do notintend to trouble themselves about courts and questions of equity, andall that. "

"You won't dare to do so yet, sir. I shall protest against it so faras I am concerned. _I have faith in prayer_, and shall wait, "exclaimed May. "It is because every thing is draped in materialismthat we do not receive more aid from the heavenly powers. "

The door opened suddenly, and Walter Jerrold came in, looking pale andhaggard. He grasped May's hand, and bowed to Mr. Fielding, who, muttering and angry, made his exit. 

"What is the matter, Mr. Jerrold?" inquired May, kindly. 

"Helen seems ill, and I have brought the carriage for you, May. Sheasks continually for you, and fears you will not come. "

"I will go with you instantly, " she said, and ran into her dressingcloset to put on her hat and scarf. "What ails Helen?"

"That is more than I can tell you. She has feverish nights, and issilent and depressed. We made up a party last week to go to thecathedral, during the 'Mission, ' to hear a celebrated preacher. Helenwent very unwillingly, and since then she has been moping and starting, and altogether in a strange mood, for one who _ought_ to be happy, "replied Mr. Jerrold, with a gloomy air. By this time they had got downstairs, and May was seated in the splendid carriage, on her way toUpperton-square. 

"Poor Helen! I hope it may be in my power to save her. What does herphysician say?"

"That is the most singular part of the thing. She positively refusesto see one. Indeed, May, to be frank with you, I fear there issomething dreadful preying on Helen's mind. She sees no company; andalthough she had prepared to go to Newport with my mother, she declinedgoing: in fact, it's all a mist, and I am puzzled to death to find outthe end of it. "

"Mr. Jerrold, " said straightforward May, "these are all the signs of atroubled conscience. Did you know that Helen was once a Catholic, andin virtually abandoning her religion, she is only suffering the pangsof a soul which cannot be at rest in its apostasy?"

"Do you really believe this, May?" he asked, eagerly. 

"I really do. Religion is a _vital principle_. It cannot be torn fromthe soul without inflicting the most incurable wounds, " she replied, while her eyes filled up with tears; "and these wounds give birth to ananguish, which is the prelude of eternal woe!"

"_Why_ did she do it, May? _I_ did not require it. It is true I wasbetter pleased to have her a Protestant, but I thought she wasexercising her own free will in the matter. Do you know it wouldgrieve me sincerely if I thought I had influenced her? It would not amonth ago, but now--hang it all!" said Mr. Jerrold, taking off his hat, and running his fingers through his hair. 

"And why _now_, and not _then_?" inquired May, with interest. 

"Why, you see, May, I was so delighted with the eloquence of thepreacher the night we went to the 'Mission, ' that I stepped in severaltimes afterwards, and was considerably enlightened on some points; infact, a great deal of prejudice and ignorance were removed by theclear, close, cogent arguments I heard. It would be a terrible thing, May--a devilish thing, to be guilty of _soul-murder_!"

"Terrible indeed. I cannot believe now that you would on any accountoppose Helen in the practice of her faith?"

"No, unless it makes her gloomy and moping. But here we are, do yourun up to her room. I will drive down to the post-office, and be backin a quarter of an hour, " said Mr. Jerrold, handing May out, andopening the hall-door for her. 

May ran through the gorgeous hall, and up the marble staircase, withits statues and vases; but so intent was she on her errand of charitythat she noticed nothing of the rich splendors around her. Sheencountered Elise at the head of the staircase. 

"_Où alles-vous, mademoiselle_?" she said, with an elegant courtesy. 

"I am Mrs. Jerrold's cousin, and have come to see her. Show me herroom, " said May, with an air of dignity. 

"_Je vous demande pardon. Madame Jerrold est un peu indisposée. Entrez!_" said Elise, throwing open Helen's door, without however, making the least noise. And there, amidst her almost orientalluxuries, she reclined; her heaped-up silken cushions--her _ormolu_tables--her Eastern vases, filled with spices and rose-leaves, untilthe air was heavy with fragrance--her rich and grotesque furniture--herrose-colored draperies, through which the light flowed in softly andradiantly--her jewels--her costly attire; amidst it all shereclined--faded, conscience-stricken, and trembling. There was a wild, feverish light in her eyes, and her white lips quivered incessantly. 

"Helen--dear Helen!" said May, holding out her hands. 

"'_If you are sick, or sorrowful, or repentant, send for me_. ' Yousaid this to me some time ago, May. The promise is claimed, " she said, feebly. 

"And I am here, dear Helen. How can I aid you?"

"First go and close that door. I have a most inconveniently zealousFrench waiting-maid, who pretends not to understand English, that shemay gather as much information about one's private affairs as possible. "

"I encountered her on the stairs, " said May, closing the door carefully. 

"Now, lay off your things, little woman. Sit here where I can see you, and tell me if you are not dazzled by all this splendor, and if you donot think I ought to be the happiest woman on earth?"

"No, dear Helen; it is very rich and beautiful, but it does not dazzleme. And so far from thinking you ought to be the happiest woman onearth, I think you ought to be the most miserable, until contrition andrepentance lead you back, humble and weeping, to the sacraments youhave deserted, " said May, bravely. 

"Just the same ridiculous little thing!" said Helen, with a faintsmile. "But, May, suppose even that I _felt_ those dispositions, doyou know what it would cost me to practice them?"

"A few worldly pleasures, perhaps, which are so fleeting that they arenot worth a thought--a few vain triumphs, full of envy--heart-burningsand aspirations, which, while they waste the energies of an immortalsoul, rise no higher than your head, and fall like black, misshapenlava at your feet. "

"Think you this is all, May Brooke? If it were, I could fling themfrom me as I do these leaves, " said Helen, tearing to pieces a richjaponica, which she snatched from a vase near her, and scattering thesoft, pure petals around her. "No, May, these would be trifles. Ishould have to tear up my heart with a burning ploughshare--put itunder foot to be spurned and crushed! The storm it would raise wouldrage so wildly that I should become like a piece of drift-wood, at themercy of wind and waves. "

"If your eternal interests are at stake, let the burning ploughshare goover it, Helen, for it is better to suffer here than where the fire ofwrath is everlasting; but, indeed, dear Helen, all this soundsexaggerated and impassioned to me! These obstacles which you dreadmust be temptations to deter you from the holiest duties. If youanticipate any difficulties from Mr. Jerrold's opposition, make yourheart easy. He is quite miserable about you, and declares that he hasnot the least objection to you practising your Faith. "

"Did he say that, May?"

"He did, indeed. I suggested that your happiness might be involved inthese momentous questions, when he expressed not only his willingness, but his anxiety for you to do whatever your conscience demanded. "

"Oh, May! Oh, little woman! simple--good soul!" cried Helen, burstinginto tears. "I cannot tell you _all_. You do not understand. Thereis a terrible mystery, which, like an incubus, is brooding day andnight in my soul, and drives back all good angels who would enter. Iam its slave, May. "

"What is it, Helen?" asked May, while the color faded from her cheeks, and she looked with mingled sorrow and dread on the miserable one. 

"Hush! there is Walter's footsteps!" she exclaimed, starting. "Oh, May, I could not bear to lose my husband's affection--to be spurned byhim. "

"How are you now, Helle? Better, I hope, now that May is with you?"said her husband, coming in. "And ready to pardon me for myinsensibility to your happiness?"

"Oh, Walter!" said Helen, covering her face with her hands. 

"I had hoped that these clouds would all be dispelled by the time Ireturned home. May and I were talking about you as we came along, andif she had not succeeded in making you believe that I wish you to behappy your own way, let this be a _gage_ between us, " said Mr. Jerrold, unfolding a small parcel he held in his hand, and handing her aCatholic prayer-book. It was bound in ivory, with an exquisiteminiature painting of "_Ecce Homo_" on one back and "_Mater Dolorosa_"on the other. The paintings were covered with crystals, and set with arim of gold and pearls. The edges and clasps were of the sameexquisite finish. "If you will only promise to be happy, dear Helen, Iwill buy a pew in the cathedral for you, and escort you thitherwhenever you wish to go. "

"Dear Walter, why bring me so costly a gift?" said Helen, looking atthe sorrowful and sacred faces on the covers of the book, with ashudder. "Indeed, I am not worthy of such tender and restlessaffection. "

"Look up, Helen--look up, my love! I am prouder of you this day thanany king could be of his crown, but if religion is going to make youabject and tame, and mistrustful, I will have none of it, " said theworldly man, in an impatient tone. 

"Religion gives birth to nothing gloomy. Even in her penitentialtears, there are rainbows, " cried May, "She is the mother of all thatis lovely, cheerful, amiable, and perfect. Even our tribulations mustbe borne with joy, because the divine hope which sanctifies them leadsthe soul up to God its Father. "

"That seems right--it sounds right. I know positively nothing aboutit, and wish I did. If I could only get Helen out once more, I shouldbe the happiest fellow on earth, " said Mr. Jerrold, with a sad andpuzzled expression on his fine face. "I suspected all along thatperhaps some religious crank had got into Helle's head, from thecircumstances of her allowing no picture but that _Mater Dolorosa_ tocome into her room. It was a queer fancy in one so devoted topaintings as she is. I have been wishing ever since she got it to buya _pendant_ for it. I found a splendid '_Niobe in Tears_'--paid anexorbitant price for it--brought it home, thinking Helen would becharmed, but she banished it to the library. Then I purchased a'Hecate'--a wonderfully beautiful thing, but that was also condemned, and sent into banishment. Was it not so Helen?"

"Dear Walter--dear May!" said Helen, lifting her white face up from thepillows, "the struggle is over. I must now, or never, yield to theseimpulses and warnings. Oh, Mother--oh, Mother!" she exclaimed, turninga look of agony towards the picture; "aid me in this mortal struggle!I can bear this no longer--this mystery and burden--this mantle ofhypocrisy must be torn off, if it costs me your love, Walter, and mylife! _I must be free_. I thought I was strong; I thought I couldwalk steadily along the way I have hewn out, but I have been haunted bya remorse which is inexorable, and that--that sacred, sorrowful faceover which my sins forced so many bitter torrents. It has never leftme day or night. In my revels and worldliness--in my dreams--in mysolitude, it has followed me. I believe if my heart were opened, itwould be found graven there, " she gasped out. 

"Oh, dear Helen, respond at once to that tender love which has sopatiently pursued you. Remember that no one was ever lost who hadrecourse to her. She has placed herself between you and divinejustice, by adopting--taking possession, as it were, of your heart; anduniting her dolors with those of her Divine Son, has given you no rest, until you seek it at the foot of the cross!" broke out May, with ardor. "Oh, Mother of Sorrows! pity this, thy poor child, who flies woundedand weeping to thy bosom. "

Helen wept convulsively. A dark cloud had gathered on her husband'sface. Her words had fallen like cold drops of lead into his heart. Heknew not to what she alluded, and imagined strange and horrible things. 

"Helen, " he said, at last, "your words have a dark meaning! yourlanguage is strange for a wife, who has been so loved and trusted, touse!"

"There is the sting, Walter. I have been loved and trusted withoutdeserving it; and what breaks down my proud nature most of all, is, tothink that Heaven, who knows all my guilt, still bears with me, " shesaid, while every feature worked with the agony this trial was causingher. 

"You will set me mad, woman! Let me hear what this guilt is, of whichyou so often accuse yourself. By Heavens! all the wealth of Indiashall never cloak dishonor! I will tear it away, and throw it--withone who has dared to bring a stain on my name--off, as I would a soiledgarment. Do you understand me?" he said, in a fury. 

Helen started up, the red blood rushing in crimson tides to her cheeksand bosom, dyeing her arms down to the very tips of her fingers, at theimputation. "It is not _that_, Walter, thank God!" she said, in afirmer voice. "But there is no true repentance without restitution. In a few moments you shall know _all_ my sin. " She went into herdressing-closet; when she came back, she held a small package in herhand, which she laid on May's knee. "Take it, May--it is yours. Istole it from the closet the night Uncle Stillinghast was dying, whileyou slept. "

"Helen, what is it?" said May, almost overcome, while she took thepackage up, and looked at it. 

"It is the _lost will_, May, which it was supposed you had burnt. _This_ is my guilt, Walter, " she said, turning to her husband; "this isthe barrier which has lifted itself, like a wall of lead, between mysoul and heaven. Now spurn me, my husband--despise me, May; then, perhaps, loaded with disgrace, and forsaken and desolate, my Father inheaven may receive me once more. "

"Base woman!" exclaimed her husband, turning from her. 

"Sir, " said May, grasping his hand; "Helen, whatever her faults mayhave been, is worthy of you now. As to the will, except certainbequests, legacies, and annuities to the poor, over which I have nocontrol, I want none of it. Only promise to deal kindly with her inthis her hour of genuine humility and repentance. But, see--she isfalling. "

"Unworthy, dishonorable Helen, how dare you wed me with this wicked acton your conscience?" said the outraged man, looking coldly down on thepale and prostrate form at his feet. "I will leave her with you, May. "

"Where are you going, sir?" said May, kneeling down, and liftingHelen's burning head to her breast. 

"To destruction!" he replied, in a low, bitter tone. 

"Do not dare leave us, sir, " said May, in a commanding tone. "Help meto lift this penitent woman--so deserving now of your tendersupport--to the bed, and go for a physician and Father Fabian. Bringboth immediately, for I believe a brain fever is coming on. "

"Would that she had died before! Would that she had died ere my trustand love were so cruelly shaken!" he exclaimed wildly, as he raised herlifeless form from the floor, and laid it on the bed. 

"Oh, Walter Jerrold! are you mad? To wish she had died withoutrepentance--without proving that her nature, by rising through graceabove the guilt of sin, is worthy of your highest esteem and love? Go, sir, unless you wish your servants to become acquainted with the wholeaffair, and to-morrow hear it recited at the corners of the streets byevery newsboy in the city. I shall have to ring for assistance. "

"Give me that will, " he said, moodily. 

"For what?"

"To place it in Mr. Fielding's hands, and tell him the disgracefulstory, lest he afterwards think I have been an accessory to Helen'sguilt, " he replied. 

"No, sir. It is entirely my affair, and I wish no interference. Iwill arrange it all myself, and be more tender of you and yours thanyou, in your savage mood, could be, " replied May, holding the willfirmly to her bosom. 

When the physician came, he, after a careful examination, pronouncedthe case to be a violent attack of brain-fever. Helen was at times ina raving delirium; then she would lie for hours without sense ormotion. Sometimes she implored in moving terms her husband'sforgiveness; then, when the violence of the paroxysm was passing away, she would whisper, "Lead me, Mother! Lead me through this howlingwilderness. Oh, save--save me! I am pursued. Hold me, my Mother--mysorrowful Mother!"

May could only follow implicitly the doctor's directions, and weep andpray. Father Fabian came--heard the story of her repentance, anddesire to return to God; then returned to wrestle in earnest prayer atthe altar that she--the penitent one--might be restored long enough tobe purified and consoled by the Sacraments of the Church. For longweary days and nights her life was despaired of. Her husband, theshadow of his former self, never left her bedside. He had loved herwell, with all his worldliness and pride. But now the crisis of thedisease came on. Her life hung upon the most attenuated thread. Thedoctor gave them no hope of a favorable change. 

It was past midnight. May, with Father Fabian, who had staid, hopingthat a short interval of reason would occur before her agony cameon--for they thought she was sinking--knelt, praying and imploring themercy of heaven for her helpless soul. Mr. Jerrold, unmanned, andfilled with bitter anguish, had gone out into the balcony, whichoverhung the garden, where, bowed down, he wept like a child. 

A low moan escaped Helen's white lips, a quivering motion convulsed herlimbs. Her long golden hair was thrown back in dishevelled curls fromher marble face. She gasped for breath. 

"Her agony is coming on!" whispered Father Fabian. 

But suddenly there was a calm; the struggle ceased, and like oneexhausted, she whispered, "Thanks, oh, my Mother!" and her large eyes, from which the film passed away, closed in a sweet and refreshingslumber. 

"She will live, " said Father Fabian; "but be silent--shade the light, and let in more air. "

May wanted to kneel, and sing the glories of MARY; she would like tohave declared to all the earth the power and tenderness of thatImmaculate Heart, which pursues with importunity and tears those whofly from her Divine Son. Loving him, she cannot bear that those forwhom he suffered should be recreant to their high destiny; but Maycould only commune with the unseen guardians of her soul, and throughthem declare her rapture, which ebbed and flowed in sweet numbers, likea life-tide through her soul. 

Father Fabian followed Mr. Jerrold out on the balcony, and laying hishand on his shoulder, said, "Let us give thanks to God; your wife willlive. Nay, sir, do not go in; the slightest agitation, before theequilibrium of nature is restored, might destroy her. Come with meinto another room, and follow the advice which I shall give you, whichis to lie down and sleep. " Subdued and humble, the proud man was ledlike a child into another apartment, where, throwing himself on alounge, exhausted with long and anxious watching, he fell into aprofound sleep. 

When Helen awoke the next day, she looked around her with a bewilderedair--then gradually remembered all; and though a feeling of deeptribulation came over her, she felt a peace within herself that she hadnever known before. She breathed a prayer to JESUS and MARY forstrength and patience in her desolation, for she thought that she wasforsaken by all earthly love--but not friendship, because she saw Maykneeling a little way off saying her rosary. 

"A drop of water, dear May, " she said. 

May started as the clear, liquid tones of that voice, so long silent, fell upon her ear, and hastened to give her wine-and-water, which thedoctor had ordered. 

"How kind in you, May, to forgive me so entirely, " she said, gently. 

"Hush, dearest Helen! Do not speak. We are so anxious for yourrecovery, that we do not wish to hear the sound of your voice, " saidMay, leaning over to kiss her forehead. 

"_We_, May! Who?"

"_We_!" said May, pointing to Jerrold, who at that moment had enteredthe room, stepping so softly, that he was almost beside her before shesaw him. Neither of them spoke; but after a long, earnest look intoHelen's eyes, which were now lifted with a clear and unclouded, buthumble expression to his, he stooped over and kissed her, while hemurmured comforting words of forgiveness, and regret for his harshness. 

"No more secrets, Walter, " she said, in a calm, low voice. 

"No, Helen. Together we will seek the Kingdom of Heaven--that kingdomof which I heard strange truths at the 'Mission. ' We will be unitedfrom henceforth in soul, body, and estate. "

"Come away now, " said May, wiping away the fast falling tears; "shemust not be agitated. "

"And _you_, most determined little woman, " said Mr. Jerrold, going awayfrom the bedside, "have left me no rest. You have preached to me inactions of Faith, Hope, and Charity, ever since I first knew you. Doctrinal arguments I should have regarded as mere priestly sophisms ifI had never known you--our good genius. "

"Oh, Mr. Jerrold, " said May, deeply wounded in her humility, "the graceof our powerful God needed no such poor instrument as I. His ways anddesigns are wonderful, and the operations of his divine mercy past allhuman comprehension. Give him the glory for evermore!"

CHAPTER XIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

Mr. Fielding was alone in his office. Perched on a high stool, withspectacles on his nose, pouring over Blackstone's views on certainquestions of equity, sat the lawyer at his desk, with a look of wisdomsupernal. The door opened, but it did not disturb him. 

"Good morning, Mr. Fielding!" said a small voice, somewhere below him. 

"I am engaged!" he growled. 

"But I have come on legal business, " persisted the voice. 

"Who in the world are you--a kobold--or--or--May Brooke! What on earthbrought you here?" he exclaimed, pushing back his glasses. 

"I have come about that will of my uncle's, sir, " said May, demurely. 

"Come to your senses at last, " said the lawyer, chuckling with triumph. 

"I wish to take the most decided measures to set aside my uncle's firstwill, having in my possession the most decided proof that I did notburn the last one, " she said, in her quiet way. 

"Proof, eh! I wonder if your proof will stand the test of the law?"

"I should think so. But I can impart nothing more on the subject untilyou promise me, on your word of honor, to ask me no questions. I willpromise you, on the other hand, to tell you all that is necessary onthe subject, " said May, earnestly. 

"Heaven save us, when women begin with law! My dear little foolishchild, _I_ am not the Law; I am only its minister, and am bound, underoath, to perform its functions faithfully, " said Mr. Fielding, openinghis eyes wide with astonishment at May's strange proposition. 

"All of which I am perfectly aware; but as your honor, or the honor ofthe law will not be in the least involved in this affair, I mustpersevere in my request. "

"You'll have your way there's not the slightest doubt--if you can getit. But can't you trust my discretion--my judgment--my--my ahem!friendship for you, _pendente lite_. "

"No, sir; I can trust to nothing but a promise such as I require fromyou; a promise which, if you knew all, you would voluntarily, from thebest and most generous impulses of your heart, offer, " said May, standing up on a chair, that she might converse more at her ease, bybringing her face to a level with his. 

"I will promise this, and no more, " he replied, after thinking someminutes. "If, on producing your proof, I find it irrefragable, and canproceed in this matter without carrying it to court, or bringing inadditional counsel--that is, if I can manage it all myself, which Idoubt, I will be silent. Men--even lawyers, are not apt to die ofungratified curiosity. Will that answer you, ma'am?"

"I think so, " said May, after some deliberation. 

"Now produce your proof?"

"Here it is, sir. Here is my uncle's will, which has been so longmislaid. I presume this is proof sufficient, " said May, spreading outthe lost will before him. But such was his surprise, and so great hiseagerness to take it to the window to examine it, that he upset hisdesk, and losing his balance, plunged head foremost after it, and layamidst the ruins covered with books, ink, and papers. 

"Indeed, sir, I hope you are not hurt, and beg of you to excuse me, "said May, trying to raise him up, while she laughed until tears randown her cheeks. "There, sir, sit in the arm-chair, and let me wipethe ink from your face. "

"Let the ink be, May. Only tell me how this will has been sounexpectedly recovered, for it is, I am willing to swear on the HolyEvangely, the identical one I drew up the day your uncle died, " hesaid, quite unruffled by the accident, and examining the document witha close scrutinizing look. 

"Are you perfectly satisfied?" asked May, gravely. 

"Perfectly, " he replied. 

"Then I can only tell you that it is a case of conscience which I amnot at liberty to reveal; indeed, I would rather tear that will intofragments than reveal its history. Heaven has interposed in answer toprayer in this matter; an immortal soul has been led back to God. Justice is satisfied. The widow, the orphan, the destitute will becomforted--"

"And you will be as rich as Croesus!" said Mr. Fielding, with adelighted look. 

"Oh, sir! Oh, Mr. Fielding, what shall I do?" exclaimed May, burstinginto a fit of crying. 

"What is the matter? What in the world are you crying about?"

"I don't want to be rich, sir; indeed, I never thought of myself. Oh, dear! I shall be so trammelled, so tempted with all this. I don'twant it, sir. "

"You are a fool. What do you want, boy?" said Mr. Fielding angrily toa boy, who was standing at the door, laughing immoderately, though in asuppressed manner. 

"I have a note from Father Fabian, sir, " said the urchin, who gave himthe note, and rushed out of the office, while his laughter, unsuppressed, made the street echo with its mirthful sound. 

Mr. Fielding tore open the note, and read:--

"DEAR SIR: I find that it will be impossible for me to see you, as Iwished to do, to-day. Ere this you have been informed, no doubt, byMay Brooke of the recovery of the lost will. I can only say, with thepermission of the penitent, who, through the fear of the Judgment ofAlmighty God, and a sincere desire for salvation, restored it; that itis the same which you drew up the day Mr. Stillinghast was taken ill;which declaration has been made to me under an oath of the most solemncharacter. You may, therefore, feel quite safe in making such businessarrangements in connection with it as your discretion may suggest. 

"Very sincerely yours, "STEPHEN FABIAN. "

"Of course, " said the lawyer, looking hurt, "it must be a most delicatecase where such secrecy is observed. But one cannot control hissuspicions. "

Just then Mr. Jerrold came in. He looked so little like a man that wasgoing to lose the bulk of a princely fortune, that Mr. Fielding wasamazed--so amazed, that he could not imagine the cause of Mr. Jerrold'slaughter, who, although highly diverted at the grave lawyer's blackenedvisage, endeavored in the most polite manner to suppress it. 

"He doesn't know the will is found, " thought Mr. Fielding. 

"I have called, Mr. Fielding, to say that I am ready to give an accountof the stewardship of Mr. Stillinghast's property, which I have managedfor the last nine months. My wife and myself are perfectly satisfiedthat the will now in your hand is genuine, and are too happy to seeevery thing restored to its equilibrium, to wish an hour's delay inresigning all right and title to every thing except what is legally andhonestly ours. "

"Give me your hand, Mr. Jerrold. I honor your sentiments, and theprompt and honorable manner with which you meet this emergency, " saidhonest Mr. Fielding. "Take May home, and comfort her between you all, for the poor child is breaking her heart because she is rich. "

And so it was settled. After receiving with true humility theSacraments of the Church, Helen, so altered and changed in all herviews of life and eternity, accompanied her husband to Europe. Theyspent the winter in Rome, where, among other converts, who made theirabjuration of error and first communion at the "_Gesu_, " was anAmerican gentleman named Jerrold. We may easily imagine who thisJerrold was. 

As to May, with the advice of Father Fabian and Mr. Fielding to aid herin the distribution of her wealth, she became gradually reconciled tothe idea of being rich, because it afforded her an unfailing source ofhappiness in the reflection that she could now, in an extended view, become the benefactor of her kind. And from that day to this she hasbeen the busiest--the most untiring--the most loving friend of the poorand afflicted. Decorating the sanctuary--visiting the widow andorphan--relieving distresses, not only by alms, but by words ofcheer--raising up the fallen, and soothing the broken-hearted, was thebusiness of her life; a business sweetened by such ample consolations, that she sometimes dreaded lest she should seek more her own comfortthan the kingdom of heaven. And then she often paused, and wonderedand feared, because no wild torrents swept across her way, and noruggedness wounded her feet in life's pathway. But she need not. Thelove of God--a perfect charity, smoothed and brightened all. Whereothers would have made gloom, she made sunshine; where others found thewaters of life bitter, she sweetened them by her perfect union with thedivine will. 

And better than all, her practical works of charity were continuallyadding members to the Church of Christ. But we must bid her adieu. She is growing old, but her step is light, and her cheeks still tintedwith the hue of health; and, perchance, in some future sketch of life, we may meet her again in her ceaseless round of charity. Helen was oneof her consolations. A truly Christian wife and mother; though timidand humble in her spiritual life, her unobtrusive piety, amidsttemptation and worldly associations, made her an example andedification to all who knew her. Mr. Fielding, always devoted to May, and admiring the indomitable and cheerful energy of her character, wasat last persuaded that, as there is but one God, so there was but ONEFAITH, and ONE BAPTISM, the fruits of which he sought with greathumility and steadfastness. We regret to add, that the benevolent andwarm-hearted Mrs. Tabb was so profuse in her charitable belief of theright of all to be saved, that she easily fell in with the New Light ofthe day--Spiritualism; and got her head so filled with "circles, " and"progression" and "manifestations, " that not recognizing the demoniacorigin of it all, she became hopelessly insane. Mrs. Jerrold, enragedat the loss of Mr. Stillinghast's fortune, and the conversion of herson and Helen, retired to the "Cedars, " where between "whist" and opiumshe drags out a lengthened and miserable existence--refusing allspiritual aid, and denouncing May in no measured terms, as the causeand prime mover of all her reverses. We should like to have told allthis in our own way, but our limits, already transgressed, warn us tosilence, while the night-lamp, burning low in its socket, and the watchticking faintly, like the last pulses of the dying, tell us, inemphatic language, that the "_good-night_" hour has come. 

THE END.