ROSAMOND

OR

THE YOUTHFUL ERROR

A Tale of Riverside

AND OTHER STORIES

BY

MRS. MARY J. HOLMESAuthor of "Tempest And Sunshine, " "Lena Rivers, ""Meadowbrook, " Etc. , Etc. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. 

The Owner of Riverside

CHAPTER II. 

Rosamond Leyton

CHAPTER III. 

Ben's Visit

CHAPTER IV. 

Rosamond's Education

CHAPTER V. 

Brother and Sister

CHAPTER VI. 

Marie Porter

CHAPTER VII. 

Making Love

CHAPTER VIII. 

News

CHAPTER IX. 

The Guest at Riverside

CHAPTER X. 

The Story

CHAPTER XI. 

The End

-----

DIAMONDS

BAD SPELLING

MAGGIE LEE

THE ANSWERED PRAYER

ROSAMOND;

OR

THE YOUTHFUL ERROR. A TALE OF RIVERSIDE. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE OWNER OF RIVERSIDE. 

All the day long the September rain had fallen, and when the nightclosed in it showed no sign of weariness, but with the same monotonouspatter dropped upon the roof, or beat against the windows of thepleasantly lighted room where a young man sat gazing at the glowinggrate, and listening apparently to the noise of the storm without. Butneither the winds, nor yet the rain, had a part of that young man'sthoughts, for they were with the past, and the chain which linked themto that past was the open letter which lay on the table beside him. For that letter he had waited long and anxiously, wondering what itwould contain, and if his overtures for reconciliation with one whohad erred far more than himself, would be accepted. It had come atlast, and with a gathering coldness at his heart he had read thedecision, --"she would not be reconciled, " and she bade him "go his wayalone and leave her to herself. "

"It is well, " he said; "I shall never trouble her again, "--and with afeeling of relief, as if a heavy load, a dread of coming evil, hadbeen taken from his mind, he threw the letter upon the table, andleaning back in his cushioned chair, tried to fancy that the last fewyears of his life were blotted out. 

"Could it be so, Ralph Browning would be a different man. " he saidaloud; then, as he glanced round the richly furnished room, hecontinued--"People call me happy, and so perhaps I might be, but forthis haunting memory. Why was it suffered to be, and must I make alife-long atonement for that early sin?"

In his excitement he arose, and crushing the letter for a moment inhis hand, hurled it into the fire; then, going to his private drawer, he took out and opened a neatly folded package, containing a longtress of jet black hair. Shudderingly he wound it around his fingers, laid it over the back of his hand, held it up to the light, and thenwith a hard, dark look upon his face, threw it, too upon the grate, saying aloud, "Thus perisheth every memento of the past, and I am freeagain--free as air!"

He walked to the window, and pressing his burning forehead against thecool, damp pane, looked out upon the night. He could not see throughthe darkness, but had it been day, his eye would have rested on broadacres all his own; for Ralph Browning was a wealthy man, and the housein which he lived was his by right of inheritance from a bacheloruncle for whom he had been named, and who, two years before our storyopens, had died, leaving to his nephew the grand old place, called_Riverside_, from its nearness to the river. It was a most beautifulspot; and when its new master first took possession of it, the maidsand matrons of Granby, who had mourned for the elder Browning aspeople mourn for a good man, felt themselves somewhat consoled fromthe fact that his successor was young and handsome, and woulddoubtless prove an invaluable acquisition to their fireside circles, and furnish a theme for gossip, without which no village can wellexist. But in the first of their expectations they were mistaken, forMr. Browning shunned rather than sought society, and spent the most ofhis leisure hours in the seclusion of his library, where, as Mrs. Peters, his housekeeper, said, he did nothing but mope over books andwalk the floor. "He was melancholy, " she said; "there was somethingworkin' on his mind, and what it was she didn't know more'n the dead--though she knew as well as she wanted to, that he had been crossed inlove, for what else would make so many of his hairs gray, and he notyet twenty-five!"

That there was a mystery connected with him, was conceded by most ofthe villagers, and many a curious gaze they bent upon the grave, dignified young man, who seldom joined in their pastime or intrudedhimself upon their company. Much sympathy was expressed for him in hisloneliness, by the people of Granby, and more than one young girlwould gladly have imposed upon herself the task of cheering thatloneliness; but he seemed perfectly invulnerable to maiden charms; andwhen Mrs. Peters, as she often did, urged him "to take a wife and besomebody, " he answered quietly, "I am content to follow the example ofmy uncle. I shall probably never marry. "

Still he was lonely in his great house--so lonely that, though it hurthis pride to do it, he wrote the letter, the answer to which excitedhim so terribly, and awoke within his mind a train of thought soabsorbing and intense, that he did not hear the summons to supperuntil Mrs. Peters put her head into the room, asking "if he were deafor what. "

Mrs. Peters had been in the elder Browning's household for years, andwhen the new owner came, she still continued at her post, andexercised over her young master a kind of motherly care, which hepermitted because he knew her real worth, and that without her hishome would be uncomfortable indeed. On the occasion of which we write, Mrs. Peters was unusually attentive, and to a person at all skilled infemale tactics, it was evident that she was about to ask a favor, andhad made preparations accordingly. His favorite waffles had beenbuttered exactly right--the peaches and cream were delicious--thefragrant black tea was neither too strong nor too weak--the fireblazed brightly in the grate--the light from the chandelier fellsoftly upon the massive silver service and damask cloth;--and with allthese creature comforts around him, it is not strange that he forgotthe letter and the tress of hair which so lately had blackened on thecoals. The moment was propitious, and by the time he had finished hissecond cup, Mrs. Peters said, "I have something to propose. "

Leaning back in his chair, he looked inquiringly at her, and shecontinued: "You remember Mrs. Leyton, the poor woman who had seenbetter days, and lived in East Granby?"

"Yes. "

"You know she has been sick, and you gave me leave to carry her anything I chose?"

"Yes. "

"Well, she's dead, poor thing, and what is worse, she hain't noconnection, nor never had, and her little daughter Rosamond hain't aplace to lay her head. "

"Let her come and sleep with you, then, " said Mr. Browning, rattlinghis spoon upon the edge of his cup. 

"Yes, and what'll she do days?" continued Mrs. Peters. "She can't runthe streets, that's so; now, I don't believe no great in children, andyou certainly don't b'lieve in 'em at all, nor your poor uncle beforeyou; but Rosamond ain't a child; she's _thirteen_--most a woman--andif you don't mind the expense, I shan't mind the trouble, and she canlive here till she finds a place. Her mother, you know, took upmillinering to get a living. "

"Certainly, let her come, " answered Mr. Browning, who was noted forhis benevolence. 

This matter being thus satisfactorily settled, Mrs. Peters arose fromthe table, while Mr. Browning went back to the olden memories whichhad haunted him so much that day, and with which there was not mingleda single thought of the little Rosamond, who was to exert so strong aninfluence upon his future life. 

CHAPTER II. 

ROSAMOND LEYTON. 

Rosamond had been some weeks at Riverside, and during all that timeMr. Browning had scarcely noticed her at all. On the first day of herarrival he had spoken kindly to her, asking her how old she was, andhow long her mother had been dead, and this was all the attention hehad paid to her. He did not even yet know the color of her eyes, ortexture of her hair, --whether it were curly or straight, black orbrown; but he knew in various ways that she was there--knew it by thesound of dancing feet upon the stairs, which were wont to echo only toMrs. Peters' heavy tread--knew it by the tasteful air his roomsuddenly assumed--by the ringing laugh and musical songs which cameoften from the kitchen, and by the thousand changes which the presenceof a merry-hearted girl of thirteen brings to a hitherto silent house. Of him Rosamond stood considerably in awe, and though she couldwillingly have worshipped him for giving her so pleasant a home, shefelt afraid of him and kept out of his way, watching him with childishcuriosity at a distance, admiring his noble figure, and wondering ifshe would ever dare speak to him as fearlessly as Mrs. Peters did. 

From this woman Rosamond received all a mother's care, and though thename of her lost parent was often on her lips, she was beginning to bevery happy in her new home, when one day toward the middle of OctoberMrs. Peters told her that Mr. Browning's only sister, a Mrs. VanVechten, who lived South, was coming to Riverside, together with herson Ben. The lady Mrs. Peters had never seen, but Ben, who was atschool in Albany, had spent a vacation there, and she described him asa "great, good-natured fool, " who cared for nothing but dogs, cigars, fast horses and pretty girls. 

Rosamond pushed back the stray curls which had fallen over her face, glanced at the cracked mirror which gave her _two_ noses instead ofone, and thinking to herself, "I wonder if he'll care for me, "listened attentively while Mrs. Peters continued, --"This Miss VanVechten is a mighty fine lady, they say, and has heaps of niggers towait on her at home, --but she can't bring 'em here, for _I_ should set'em free--that's, so. I don't b'lieve in't. What was I sayin'? Oh, Iknow, she can't wait on herself, and wrote to have her brother getsome one. He asked me if you'd be willin' to put on her clothes, washher face, and _chaw her victuals_ like enough. "

"Mr. Browning never said that, " interrupted Rosamond, and Mrs. Petersreplied--"Well, not that exactly, but he wants you to wait on hergenerally. "

"I'll do anything reasonable, " answered Rosamond. "When will she behere?" "I'll do anything reasonable, " answered Rosamond, "I musthurry, or I shan't have them north chambers ready for her. Ben ain'tcoming quite so soon. "

The two or three days passed rapidly, and at the close of the third acarriage laden with trunks stopped before the gate at Riverside, andMrs. Van Vechten had come. She was a thin, sallow-faced, proud-lookingwoman, wholly unlike her brother, whose senior she was by many years. She had seen much of the world, and that she was conscious of her ownfancied superiority was perceptible in every movement. She was Mrs. Richard Van Vechten, of Alabama--one of the oldest families in thestate. Her deceased husband had been United States Senator--she hadbeen to Europe--had seen the Queen on horseback--had passed theresidence of the Duchess of Sutherland, and when Rosamond Leytonappeared before her in her neatly-fitting dress of black and askedwhat she could do for her, she elevated her eyebrows, and coollysurveying the little girl, answered haughtily, "Comb out my hair. "

"Yes, I will, " thought Rosamond, who had taken a dislike to the grandlady, and suiting the action to the thought, she did comb out herhair, pulling it so unmercifully that Mrs. Van Vechten angrily badeher stop. 

"Look at me, girl, " said she; "did you ever assist at any one's toiletbefore?"

"I've hooked Mrs. Peters' dress and pinned on Bridget's collar, "answered Rosamond, her great brown eyes brimming with mischief. 

"Disgusting!" returned Mrs. Van Vechten--"I should suppose Ralph wouldknow better than to get me such an ignoramus. Were you hired onpurpose to wait on me?"

"Why, no, ma'am--I live here, " answered Rosamond. 

"Live here!" repeated Mrs. Van Vechten, "and pray, what do you do?"

"Nothing much, unless I choose, " said Rosamond, who, being a great petwith Mrs. Peters and the other servants, really led a very easy lifeat Riverside. 

Looking curiously into the frank, open face of the young girl, Mrs. Van Vechten concluded she was never intended to take a negro's place, and with a wave of her hand she said, "You may go; I can dress myselfalone. "

That evening, as the brother and sister sat together in the parlor, the latter suddenly asked, "Who is that Rosamond Leyton, and what isshe doing here?"

Mr. Browning told her all he knew of the girl, and she continued, "Doyou intend to educate her?"

"Educate her!" said he--"what made you think of that?"

"Because, " she answered, with a sarcastic smile, "as you expect to dopenance the rest of your lifetime, I did not know but you would deemit your duty to educate every beggar who came along. "

The idea of educating Rosamond Leyton was new to Mr. Browning, but hedid not tell his sister so--he merely said, "And suppose I do educateher?"

"In that case, " answered the lady, "Ben will not pass his collegevacations here, as I had intended that he should do. "

"And why not?" asked Mr. Browning. 

"Why not?" repeated Mrs. Van Vechten. "Just as though you did not knowhow susceptible he is to female beauty, and if you treat this Rosamondas an equal, it will be like him to fall in love with her at once. Sheis very pretty, you know. "

Mr. Browning did not know any such thing. In fact, he scarcely knewhow the young girl looked, but his sister's remark had awakened in himan interest, and after she had retired, which she did early, he rangthe bell for Mrs. Peters, who soon appeared in answer to his call. 

"Is Rosamond Leyton up, " he asked. 

"Yes, sir, " answered Mrs. Peters, wondering at the question. 

"Send her to me, " he said, and with redoubled amazement Mrs. Peterscarried the message to Rosamond, who was sitting before the fire, trying in vain to undo an obstinate knot in her boot-string. 

"Mr. Browning sent for me!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing up. "Wants to scold me, I suppose, for pulling his sister's hair. I onlydid what she told me to, " and with a beating heart she started for theparlor. 

Rosamond was afraid of Mr. Browning, and feeling sure that he intendedto reprove her, she took the chair nearest to the door, and coveringher face with her hands, began to cry, saying--"It was ugly in me, Iknow', to pull Mrs. Van Vechten's hair, and I did it on purpose, too;but I won't do so again, I certainly won't. "

Mr. Browning was confounded. This was the first intimation he hadreceived of the _barbaric_ performance, and for a moment he remainedsilent, gazing at the little girl. Her figure was very slight, herfeet and hands were very small, and her hair, though disordered nowand rough, was of a beautiful brown, and fell in heavy curls aroundher neck. He saw all this at a glance, but her face, the point towhich his attention was chiefly directed, he could not see until thoselittle hands were removed, and as a means of accomplishing this he atlast said, kindly--"I do not understand you, Rosamond. My sister hasentered no complaint, and I did not send for you to censure you. Iwish to talk with you--to get acquainted. Will you come and sit by meupon the sofa?"

Rosamond's hands came down from her face, but she did not leave herseat; neither did Mr. Browning now wish to have her, for the light ofthe chandelier fell full upon her, giving him a much better view ofher features than if she had been nearer to him. If, as Mrs. Petershad said, Ben Van Vechten was fond of pretty girls, he in a measureinherited the feeling from his uncle, who was an ardent admirer of thebeautiful, and who now felt a glow of satisfaction in knowing thatRosamond Leyton was pretty. It was a merry, sparkling, little facewhich he looked upon, and though the nose did turn up a trifle, andthe mouth was rather wide, the soft, brown eyes, and exquisitely faircomplexion made ample amends for all. She was never intended for amenial--she would make a beautiful woman--and with thoughts similar tothese, Mr. Browning, after completing his survey of her person, said--"Have you been to school much?"

"Always, until I came here, " was her answer; and he continued--"Andsince then you have not looked in a book, I suppose?"

The brown eyes opened wide as Rosamond replied, --"Why, yes I have. I've read over so much in your library when you were gone. Mrs. Peterstold me I might, " she added, hastily, as she saw his look of surprise, and mistook it for displeasure. 

"I am perfectly willing, " he said; "but what have you read? Tell me. "

Rosamond was interested at once, and while her cheeks glowed and hereyes sparkled, she replied--"Oh, I've read Shakespeare's HistoricalPlays, every one of them--and Childe Harold, and Watts on the Mind, and Kenilworth, and now I'm right in the middle of the Lady of theLake. Wasn't Fitz-James the King? _I_ believe he was. When I am olderI mean to write a book just like that. "

Mr. Browning could not forbear a smile at her enthusiasm, but withoutanswering her question, he said, --"What do you intend to do until youare old enough?"

Rosamond's countenance fell, and after tapping her foot upon thecarpet awhile, she said, "Mrs. Peters will get me a place by-and-by, and I s'pose I'll have to be a milliner. "

"Do you wish to be one?"

"Why, no; nor mother didn't either, but after father died she had todo something. Father was a kind of a lawyer, and left her poor. "

"Do you wish to go away from here, Rosamond?"

There were tears on the long-fringed eye-lashes as the young girlreplied, "No, sir; I'd like to live here always, but there's nothingfor me to do. "

"Unless you go to school. How would you like that?"

"I have no one to pay the bills, " and the curly head shook mournfully. 

"But I have money, Rosamond, and suppose I say that you shall stayhere and go to school?"

"Oh, sir, _will_ you say so? _May_ I live with you always?" andforgetting her fear of him in her great joy, Rosamond Leyton crossedover to where he sat, and laying both her hands upon his shoulder, continued--"Are you in earnest, Mr. Browning? May I stay? Oh, I'll beso good to you when you are old and sick!"

It seemed to her that he was old enough to be her father, then, and italmost seemed so to him. Giving her a very paternal look, he answered, "Yes, child, you shall stay as long as you like and now go, or Mrs. Peters will be wondering what keeps you. "

Rosamond started to leave the room, but ere she reached the door shepaused, and turning to Mr. Browning, said, "You have made me _so_happy, and I like you so much, I wish you'd let me kiss your hand--mayI?"

It was a strange question, and it sent the blood tingling to the verytips of Mr. Browning's fingers. 

"Why, ye-es, --I don't know. What made you think of that?" he said, andRosamond replied, --"I always kissed father when he made me very happy. It was all I could do. "

"But I am not your father, " stammered Mr. Browning; "I shall not betwenty-five until November. Still you can do as you please. "

"Not twenty-five yet, " repeated Rosamond;--"why, I thought you werenearer _forty_. I don't believe I'd better, though I like you just aswell. Good night. "

He heard her go through the hall, up the stairs, through the upperhall, and then all was still again. 

"What a strange little creature she is, " he thought; "so childlike andfrank, but how queer that she should ask to _kiss me!_ Wouldn't Susanbe shocked if she knew it, and won't she be horrified when I tell herI _am_ going to educate the girl. I shouldn't have thought of it butfor her. And suppose Ben does fall in love with her. If he knew alittle more, it would not be a bad match. Somebody must keep up ourfamily, or it will become extinct. Susan and I are the only ones left, and _I_"--here he paused, and starting to his feet, he paced the floorhurriedly, nervously, as if seeking to escape from some pursuing evil. "It is terrible, " he whispered, "but I _can_ bear it and will, " andgoing to his room he sought his pillow to dream strange dreams oftresses black, and ringlets brown, --of fierce, dark eyes, and shiningorbs, whose owner had asked to kiss his hand, and mistaken him for hersire. 

CHAPTER III. 

BEN'S VISIT. 

The next morning, as Mrs. Van Vechten was slowly making her toiletalone, there came a gentle rap at her door, and Rosamond Leytonappeared, her face fresh and blooming as a rose-bud, her curls brushedback from her forehead, and her voice very respectful, as she said--"Ihave come to ask your pardon for my roughness yesterday. I can dobetter, and if you will let me wait on you while you stay, I am sure Ishall please you. "

Mrs. Van Vechten could not resist that appeal, and she graciouslyaccepted the girl's offer, asking her the while what had made thechange in her behavior. Always frank and truthful, Rosamond explainedto the lady that Mr. Browning's kindness had filled her with gratitudeand determined her to do as she had done. To her Mrs. Van Vechten saidnothing, but when she met her brother at the breakfast table, therewas an ominous frown upon her face, and the moment they were alone, she gave him her opinion without reserve. But Mr. Browning was firm. "He should have something to live for, " he said, "and Heaven only knewthe lonely hours he passed with no object in which to be interested. Her family, though unfortunate, are highly respectable, " he added, "and if I can make her a useful ornament in society, it is my duty todo so. "

Mrs. Van Vechten knew how useless it would be to remonstrate with him, and she gave up the contest, mentally resolving that "Ben should notpass his college vacations there. "

When the villagers learned that Mr. Browning intended to educateRosamond and treat her as his equal, they ascribed it wholly to theinfluence of his sister, who, of course, had suggested to him an actwhich seemed every way right and proper. They did not know how thelady opposed it, nor how, for many days, she maintained a cold reservetoward the young girl, who strove in various ways to conciliate her, and at last succeeded so far that she not only accepted her servicesat her toilet, but even asked of her sometimes to read her to sleep inthe afternoon, a process neither long nor tedious, for Mrs. VanVechten was not literary, and by the time the second page was reachedshe usually nodded her full acquiescence to the author's opinions, andRosamond was free to do as she pleased. 

One afternoon when Mrs. Van Vechten was fast asleep, and Rosamond deepin the "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, " (the former having selectedthat poem as an opiate because of its musical jingle, ) there was thesound of a bounding step upon the stairs, accompanied by the stirringnotes of Yankee Doodle, which some one whistled at the top of hisvoice. Rosamond was about going to see who it was, when the dooropened and disclosed to view a long, lank, light-haired, good-naturedlooking youth, dressed in the extreme of fashion, with a huge goldchain dangling across his vest, and an immense diamond ring upon hislittle finger. This last he managed to show frequently by caressinghis chin, where, by the aid of a microscope, a very little down mightpossibly have been found! This was Ben! He had just arrived, andlearning that his mother was in her room, had entered itunceremoniously. The unexpected apparition of a beautiful young girlstartled him, and he introduced himself to her good graces by the veryexpressive exclamation, "_Thunder!_ I beg your pardon, Miss, " hecontinued, as he met her surprised and reproving glance. "You scaredme so I didn't know what else to say. It's a favorite expression ofmine, but I'll quit it, if you say so. Do you live here?"

"I wait upon your mother, " was the quiet answer, which came nearwringing from the young man a repetition of the offensive word. 

But he remembered himself in time, and then continued, "How do youknow she's my mother? You are right, though. I'm Ben Van Vechten--theveriest dolt in school, they say. But, as an offset, I've got a heartas big as an ox; and now, who are you? I know you are not a waiting-maid!"

Rosamond explained who she was, and then, rather pleased with his off-hand manner, began to question him concerning his journey, and soforth. Ben was delighted. It was not every girl who would of her ownaccord talk to him, and sitting down beside her, he told her twicethat she was handsome, was cautiously winding his arm around herwaist, when from the rosewood bedstead there came the sharp, quickword, "Benjamin!" and, unmindful of Rosamond's presence, Ben leapedinto the middle of the room, ejaculating, "Thunder! mother, what doyou want?"

"I want _her_ to leave the room, " said Mrs. Van Vechten, pointingtoward Rosamond, who, wholly ignorant of the nature of her offence, retreated hastily, wondering how she had displeased the capriciouslady. 

Although Ben Van Vechten would not have dared to do a thing in directopposition to his mother's commands, he was not ordinarily afraid ofher, and he now listened impatiently, while she told him that RosamondLeyton was not a fit associate for a young man like himself, "She wasa sort of nobody, whom her brother had undertaken to educate, " shesaid, "and though she might be rather pretty, she was low-born andvulgar, as any one could see. "

Ben confessed to a deficiency of eye-sight on that point, and then, ashis mother showed no signs of changing the conversation, he left herabruptly, and sauntered off into the garden, where he came suddenlyupon Rosamond, who was finishing the Ancient Mariner in the summer-house, her favorite resort. 

"So we've met again, " said he, "and a pretty lecture I've had on youraccount. "

"Why on my account?" asked Rosamond; and Ben, who never kept a thingto himself, told her in substance all his mother had said. 

"She always wakes in the wrong time, " said he, "and she saw me just asI was about to give you a little bit of a hug--so"--and he proceededto demonstrate. 

Rosamond's temper was up, and equally indignant at mother and son, shestarted to her feet, exclaiming, "I'd thank you, sir, to let mealone. "

"Whew-ew, " whistled Ben. "Spunky, ain't you. Now I rather like that. But pray don't burst a blood vessel. I've no notion of making love toyou, if mother does think so. You are too small a girl. "

"Too small a girl, " repeated Rosamond, scornfully. "I'm _fourteen_ to-morrow--quite too old to be insulted, " and she darted away, followedby the merry laugh of the good-humored Ben. 

Two hours before, Rosamond would not have been so excited, for thoughnearly fourteen, she was in thought and feeling a very child, as wasproved by her asking to kiss her benefactor's hand; but Mrs. VanVechten's remarks, repeated to her by Ben, had wrought in her achange, and, in some respects, transformed her into a woman at once. She did not care so much for the liberties Ben had attempted to take, but his mother's words rankled in her bosom, awakening within her afeeling of bitter resentment; and when, next day, the lady's bell rangout its summons for her to come, she sat still upon the doorsteps andgave no heed. 

"Rosamond, " said Mrs. Peters, "Mrs. Van Vechten is ringing for you. "

"Let her ring, I'm not going to wait on her any more, " and Rosamondreturned to the book she was reading. 

Meantime, flurried and impatient, the lady above stairs pulled at thebell-rope, growing more nervous and angry with every pull, until atlast, as she heard her brother's step in the hall, she went out to himand said, "I wish you'd send that girl to me. I've rung at least fiftytimes; and dare say she's enticing Ben again. I knew it would be so. "

Going hurriedly down the stairs, Mr. Browning sought out Rosamond andsaid to her, "My sister is ringing for you. "

"I know it, sir;" and the brown eyes, which heretofore had seemed sosoft and gentle, flashed upon him an expression which puzzled him. 

"Then why do you not go?" he asked; and the young girl replied, "Ishall not wait upon, her any more. "

"_Rosamond!_" said Mr. Browning. There was severity in the tone of hisvoice, and Rosamond roused at once. 

"She says I am _vulgar_, and _low-born_, and have designs upon Ben, "said she, "and it's a falsehood. My mother was as much a lady as she. I am _not_ vulgar, and I hate Ben, and I won't stay here if I mustwait on _her_. Shall I go away?"

If Rosamond left, the life of the house went with her. This Mr. Browning knew; but man-like, he did not wish to be conquered by awoman, and after questioning her as to the nature of Mrs. VanVechten's offence, he answered, "My sister says some foolish things, Iknow, but it is my request that you attend to her while she stays, andI expect to be obeyed. "

That last word was unfortunate, for Rosamond had a strong will of herown, and tapping her little foot upon the ground, she said saucily, "And suppose you are not obeyed?"

He did not tell her she must leave Riverside, but he said, "You mustanswer for your disobedience to me, who have certainly some right tocontrol you;" then, fearing that his own high temper might be triedmore than he chose to have it, he walked away just in time to avoidhearing her say, "she cared less for him than for his sister!"

Rosamond was too impulsive not to repent bitterly of her conduct; andthough she persisted in leaving Mrs. Van Vechten to herself, andrefused to speak to Ben, whose face, in consequence, wore a mostmelancholy expression, she almost cried herself sick, and at last, startled Mrs. Peters, just as that lady was stepping into bed, bydeclaring that she must see Mr. Browning before she slept. 

Mr. Browning sat in his library, alone. He did not usually retireearly, but this night he had cause for wakefulness. The burst ofpassion he had witnessed in his protegee, had carried him back to atime when another than little Rosamond Leyton had laughed his wishesto scorn. 

"And is it ever thus with them?" he said. "Are all women furies indisguise?--and Rosamond seemed so gentle, so good. "

He did not hear the low knock on his door, for his thoughts were faraway in the south-land, where he had learned his first lesson ofwomankind. Neither did he hear the light footfall upon the floor, butwhen a sweet, tearful voice said to him, "Mr. Browning, are youfeeling so badly for me?" he started, and on a hassock at his feet sawRosamond Leyton. The sight of her was unexpected, and it startled himfor a moment, but soon recovering his composure, he said gently: "Whyare you here? I supposed you were in bed. "

Rosamond began to cry, and with her usual impetuosity replied, "I cameto tell you how sorry I am for behaving so rudely to you. I do try togovern my temper so hard, but it sometimes gets the mastery. Won't youforgive me, sir? It wasn't Rosamond that acted so--it was a vile, wicked somebody else. Will you forgive me?" and in her dread that thecoveted forgiveness might be withheld, she forgot that he was only_twenty-four_, and laid her head upon his knee, sobbing like a littlechild. 

"Had _she_ done like this, how different would my life have been, "thought Mr. Browning, and involuntarily caressing the curly head, hewas about to speak, when Rosamond interrupted him, saying, "I won't deceive you, Mr. Browning, and make you think I'm better thanI am. I am sorry I acted so to you, but I don't believe I'm sorryabout Mrs. Van Vechten. I don't like her, for she always treats me asthough I were not near as good as she, and I can't wait on her anymore. Must I? Oh, don't make me, " and she looked beseechingly into hisface. 

He could not help respecting her for that inborn feeling, which wouldnot permit herself to be trampled down, and though he felt intuitivelythat she was having her own way after all, he assured her of hisforgiveness, and then added: "Mrs. Van Vechten will not require yourservices, for she received a letter to-night, saying her presence wasneeded at home, and she leaves us to-morrow. "

"_And Ben?_" she asked--"does he go, too?"

"He accompanies his mother to New York, " Mr. Browning said, "and Ibelieve she intends leaving him there with a friend, until his schoolcommences again. "

In spite of herself, Rosamond rather liked Ben, and feeling that shewas the cause of his banishment from Riverside, her sympathy wasenlisted for him, and she said, "If I were not here, Ben would stay. Hadn't you rather send me away?"

"No, Rosamond, no;--I need you here, " was Mr. Browning's reply, andthen as the clock struck eleven, he bade her leave him, saying it wastime children like her were in bed. 

As he had said, Mis. Van Vechten was going away, and she came down tobreakfast next morning in her traveling dress, appearing veryunamiable, and looking very cross at Rosamond, with whom she finallyparted without a word of reconciliation. Ben, on the contrary, was allaffability, and managed slyly to kiss her, telling her he should comethere again in spite of his mother. 

After their departure the household settled back into its usualmonotonous way of living, with the exception that Rosamond, beingpromoted to the position of an equal, became, in many respects, thereal mistress of Riverside, though Mrs. Peters nominally held thereins, and aside from superintending her work, built many castles ofthe future when her protegee would be a full grown woman and hermaster still young and handsome!

CHAPTER IV

ROSAMOND'S EDUCATION

One year has passed away since Mrs. Van Vechten departed for theSouth, and up the locust lined avenue which leads to Riverside, theowner of the place is slowly riding. It is not pleasant going hometonight, and so he lingers by the way, wondering why it is that theabsence of a _child_ should make so much difference in one's feelings!During the year Rosamond had recited her lessons to him, but with manyothers he fancied no girl's education could be finished unless shewere _sent away_--and two weeks before the night of which we write hehad taken her himself to Atwater Seminary, a distance of more than twohundred miles, and then, with a sense of desolation for which he couldnot account, he had returned to his home, which was never so lonelybefore. There was no merry voice within the walls, --no tripping feetupon the stairs, --no soft, white hand to bathe his forehead whensuffering from real or fancied headaches, --no slippers waiting by hischair, --no flowers on the mantel, --no bright face at the window, --noRosamond at the door. 

Of all this was he thinking that November afternoon, and when at lasthe reached his house, he went straight to his library, hoping to finda letter there, telling him of her welfare. But letter there was none, and with a feeling of disappointment he started to the parlor. Thedoor was ajar and he caught glimpses of a cheerfully blazing firewithin the grate. The shutters, too, were open and the curtains wereput back just as they used to be when _she was there_. It seemed likethe olden time, and with spirits somewhat enlivened he advanced intothe room. His favorite chair stood before the fire, and so near to itthat her head was leaning on its arm, sat a young girl. Her back wasturned toward him, but he knew that form full well, and joyfully hecried: "Rosamond, how came you here?"

Amid her smiles and tears, Rosamond tempted to tell him the story ofher grievances. She was homesick, and she could not learn half so muchat the Atwater Seminary as at home--then, too, she hated the strait-jacket rules, and hated the lady-boarder, who pretended to be sick, and wouldn't let the school-girls breathe, especially Rosamond Leyton, for whom she seemed to have conceived a particular aversion. 

Pleased as Mr. Browning was to have Rosamond with him again, he didnot quite like her reasons for coming back, and he questioned herclosely as to the cause of her sudden return. 

"I shouldn't have come, perhaps, " said Rosamond, "if that sick womanhadn't been so nervous and disagreeable. She paid enormous sums forher board, and so Mrs. Lindsey would hardly let us breathe for fear ofdisturbing her. My room was over hers, and I had to take off my shoesand walk on tiptoe, and even then she complained of me, saying I wasrude and noisy, when I tried so hard to be still. I made some hatefulremark about her in the hall, which she overheard, and when Mrs. Lindsey scolded me for it, saying she was a very wealthy lady fromFlorida, and accustomed to every attention at home, I said back somepert things, I suppose, for she threatened to write and tell you, andso I thought I'd come and tell you myself. "

There was a dizzy whirl in Mr. Browning's brain--a pallor about hislips--for a terrible suspicion had flashed upon him, and leaningforward, he said in a voice almost a whisper, "What was the Floridalady's name?"

"Potter, or Porter--yes, _Miss Porter_, that was it. But what is thematter? Are you sick?" Rosamond asked, as she saw how white he was. 

"Only a sudden faintness. It will soon pass off, " he said. "Tell memore of her. Did she see you? Were you near her?"

"No, " answered Rosamond. "She was sick all the time I was there, anddid not leave her room. The girls said, though, that she was ratherpretty, but had big, black, evil-looking eyes. I don't know why itwas, but I felt afraid of her--felt just as though she was my evilgenius. I couldn't help it--but you _are_ sick, Mr. Browning--you arepale as a ghost. Lie down upon the sofa, and let me bring the pillows, as I used to do. "

She darted off in the direction of his sleeping-room, unconscious ofthe voice which called after her, asking if it were not dark in thehall, and bidding her take a light. 

"But what does it matter?" he said, as he tottered to the sofa. "_She_is not here. Atwater Seminary is two hundred miles away. She can'tharm Rosamond now. "

By this time Rosamond came with the pillows, which she arranged uponthe sofa, making him lie down while she sat by, and laid her handsoothingly upon his burning forehead. 

"We will have tea in here to-night, " she said, "I told Mrs. Peters so, and I will make it myself. Do you feel any better?" and she broughther rosy face so near to his that he felt her warm breath upon hischeek. 

"Yes, I am better, " he replied, "but keep your hand upon my forehead. It assures me of your presence, when my eyes are shut. "

So Rosamond sat beside him, and when Mrs. Peters came in to lay thecloth, she found them thus together. Smiling knowingly, she whisperedto herself, "'Nater is the same everywhere, " and the good lady bustledin and out, bringing her choicest bits and richest cake in honor ofher pet's return. That night, freed from boarding-school restraint, Rosamond slept soundly in her own pleasant chamber, but to RalphBrowning, pacing up and down his room, there came not a moment ofunconsciousness. He could not forget how near he had been to one whohad embittered his whole life--nor yet how near to her young Rosamondhad been, and he shuddered as if the latter had escaped an unseendanger. Occasionally, too, the dread thought stole over him, "supposeshe should come here, and with her eagle eye discover what, if itexist at all, is hidden in the inmost recesses of my heart. "

But of this he had little fear, and when the morning came he washimself again, and, save that it was haggard and pale, his face gaveno token of the terrible night he had passed. But what should he dowith Rosamond? This was the question which now perplexed him. He hadno desire to send her from him again, neither would she have gone ifhe had--and he at last came to the very sensible conclusion that theschool in his own village was quite as good as any, and sheaccordingly became an attendant at the Granby Female Seminary. Hereshe remained for two years and a half, over which time we will passsilently and introduce her again to our readers, when she is nearlyeighteen--a graduate---a belle--and the sunshine of Riverside. 

CHAPTER V. 

BROTHER AND SISTER. 

During the time which had elapsed since Ben Van Vechten first made theacquaintance of Rosamond, he had not once been to Riverside, for, failing to enter college, and overwhelmed with mortification at hisfailure, he had returned to Alabama, from which place he wrote to heroccasionally, always addressing her as a little girl, and speaking ofhimself as a very ancient personage in comparison with herself. Butthat Rosamond was now no longer a little girl was proved by her finelyrounded figure, her intelligent face, her polished manners and self-reliant air. And Rosamond was beautiful, too--so beautiful thatstrangers invariably asked _who_ she was, turning always for a secondlook, when told she was the adopted sister or daughter--the villagershardly knew which--of the wealthy Mr. Browning. But whether she werethe daughter or the sister of the man with whom she lived, she was inreality the mistress of his household, and those who at first slightedher as the child of a milliner, now gladly paid her homage as one whowas to be the heir of Mr. Browning's wealth. He would never marry her, the wise ones thought--would never marry anybody--and so, with thisunderstanding, he was free to talk, walk, and ride with her as oftenas he chose. He liked her, the people said, but did not love her, while Rosamond herself believed he almost hated her, so strangely coldand harsh was his manner toward her at times. 

This coldness had increased of late, and when the Lawries, who, nextto Mr. Browning, were the most aristocratic people in the place, suggested that she should accompany them for a few weeks to theSprings, she was delighted with the plan, and nothing doubting thatMr. Browning would be glad to have her out of the way, she went to himfor his consent. She found him in his library, apparently so absorbedin reading that he did not observe her approach until she stoodbetween him and the light. Then he looked up quickly, and, as shefancied, an expression of displeasure passed over his face. 

"Excuse me for disturbing you, " she said, rather petulantly; "I haveto break in upon your privacy if I would see you at all. "

He gave her a searching glance, and then, laying aside his book andfolding his arms, said pleasantly, "I am at your service now, MissLeyton. What is it you wish?"

Very briefly she stated her request, and then sitting down in thewindow, awaited his answer. It was not given immediately, and when hedid speak, he said--"Rosamond, do you wish to go?"

"Of course I do, " she replied, "I want to go where it is not aslonesome as I find it here. "

"Lonesome, Rosamond, lonesome, " he repeated. "Riverside has never beenlonesome since--" he paused a moment and then added, "since you camehere. "

The shadow disappeared from Rosamond's face, as she replied--"I didnot suppose you cared to have me here. I thought you did not like me. "

"Not like you, Rosamond?" and over his fine features there came a lookof pain, which increased as Rosamond continued:--"You are so cold attimes, and shun me as it were; inventing excuses to drive me from youwhen you know I would rather stay. "

"Oh, Rosamond, " he groaned, "how mistaken you are. The world would beto me a blank were it not for you; and if my manner is sometimes coldand cruel, it is because stern duty demands it should be so. I cannotlay bare my secret heart to you of all others, but could you know meas I am, you would censure much, but pity more. " He paused a moment, then, scarcely knowing what he said, he continued--"Rosamond, we willunderstand each other. _I shall never marry_--never _can_ marry. Inyour intercourse with me, will you always remember that?"

"Why, yes, " answered Rosamond, puzzled to comprehend him. "I'llremember that you say so, but it is not likely you'll keep your word. "

"I am not trifling with you, " he said. " Marriage is not for _me_. There is a dreadful reason why I cannot marry, and if at times I amcold toward you, it is because--because--"

Rosamond's eyes were riveted upon his face--darker and darker theygrew, becoming at last almost black in their intensity. She wasbeginning to understand him, and coloring crimson, she answered, bitterly: "I know what you would say, but you need have no fears, forI never aspired to that honor. Rosamond Leyton has yet to see the manshe could love. "

"Rosamond, " and Mr. Browning's voice was so low, so mournful in itstone that it quelled the angry feelings in the young girl's bosom, andshe offered no resistance when he came to her side and took her handin his, saying as he did so--"Listen to me. You came here a littlegirl, and at first I did not heed you, but you made your presence feltin various ways, until at last I thought I could not live without you. You are a young lady now--the world calls you beautiful. To me you arebeautiful. Oh, _so_ beautiful, " and he laid one hand upon her shininghair, softly, tenderly nay, proudly, as if she had been his child. "Iam not old yet, and it would be natural that we should love eachother, but we must not--we cannot. "

"And lest I should love you too well, you have tried to make me hateyou, " interrupted Rosamond, trying in vain to release herself from hispowerful grasp, and adding, "but you can spare yourself the trouble. Ilike you too well to hate you; but as I live, I would not marry you ifI could. I mean what I say!"

He released her hand, and returning to his chair, laid his head uponthe table, while she continued--"I know just about how well you likeme--how necessary I am to your comfort, and since fate has decreedthat we should be thrown together, let us contribute to each other'shappiness as far as in us lies. I will think of you as a brother, ifyou like, and you shall treat me as a sister, until somebody takes meoff your hands. Now, I can't say _I_ shall never marry, for I verilybelieve I shall. Meantime, you must think of me just as you would ifyou had a wife. Is it a bargain, Mr. Browning?"

She spoke playfully, but he knew she was in earnest, and from hisinmost soul he blessed her for having thus brought the conversation toa close. He would not tell her why he had said to her what he had--itwas not what he intended to say, and he knew she was in a measuredeceived, but he could not explain to her now; he could not tell herthat he trembled for himself far more than for her, and it was not forher then to know how much he loved her, nor how that love was wearinghis life away because of its great sin. He was growing old now veryfast. The shadows of years were on his brow, and Rosamond almostfancied she saw his brown locks turning white. She was a warm-hearted, impulsive girl, and going toward him, she parted from his forehead thehair streaked with gray, saying softly to him: "Shall it not be so?May I be your sister?"

"Yes, Rosamond, yes, " was his answer; and then, wishing to bring himback to the point from which they started, Rosamond said abruptly--"And what of the Springs? Can I go?"

The descent was a rapid one, but it was what he needed, and lifting uphis head, he replied, just as he had done before, "Do you want to go?""Not as much as I did when I thought you were angry, and if you wouldrather, I had quite as lief stay with you. "

"Then stay, " he said, "and we will have no more misunderstandings. "

The next evening, as he sat alone in the parlor, a servant brought tohim a letter, the superscription of which made him reel, as if hewould have fallen to the floor. It was nearly four years since he hadseen that handwriting--he had hoped never to look upon it again--butit was there before his eyes, and she who wrote that letter was comingto Riverside--"would be there in a few days, Providence permitting. Donot commit suicide on my account, " she wrote, "for I care as little asyourself to have our secret divulged, and unless I find that you areafter other _prey_, I shall keep my own counsel. "

The letter dropped from his nerveless fingers--the objects in the roomswam before his eyes, and like one on whom a crushing weight hasfallen, he sat bewildered, until the voice of Rosamond aroused him, and fleeing to his chamber he locked the door, and then sat down tothink. She was coming to Riverside, and wherefore? He did not wish fora reconciliation now--he would rather live there just as he was, withRosamond. 

"Nothing will escape her, " he said; "those basilisk eyes will seeeverything--will ferret out my love for that fair young girl. Oh, Heaven, _is_ there no escape!"

He heard the voice of Anna Lawrie in the yard. She was coming forRosamond's decision, and quick as thought he rang the bell, biddingthe servant who appeared to send Miss Leyton to him. 

"Rosamond, " he said, when she came to the door, "I have changed mymind. You must go to the Springs. "

"But I'd rather stay at home--I do not wish to go, " she said. 

"I say you _must_. So tell Miss Lawrie you will, " he answered, and hiseyes flashed almost savagely upon her. 

Rosamond waited for no more. She had discovered the impediment to hismarrying. It was _hereditary insanity_, and she had seen the firstsigns of it in him herself! Magnanimously resolving never to tell ahuman being, nor let him be chained if she could help it, howeverfurious he might become, she went down to Miss Lawrie, telling her shewould go. 

One week from that day was fixed upon for their departure, and duringthat time Rosamond was too much absorbed in dresses and finery to paymuch heed to Mr. Browning. Of one thing she was sure, though--he was_crazy_; for what else made him stalk up and down the gravel-walk, hishead bent forward, and his hands behind him, as if intently thinking. Once, when she saw him thus, she longed to go out to him, to tell himshe knew his secret, and that she would never leave him, howeverunmanageable he should become! But his manner toward her now was sostrange that she dared not, and she was almost as glad as himself whenat last the morning came for her to go. 

"Promise me one thing, " he said, as they stood together a momentalone. "Don't write until you hear from me, and don't come home untilI send for you. "

"And suppose the Lawries come, what then?" she asked, and he replied, "No matter; stay until I write. Here are five hundred dollars in caseof an emergency, " and he thrust a check into her hand. 

"Stop, " he continued, as the carriage came round--"did you put yourclothes away where no one can see them, or are you taking them allwith you?"

"Why, no, why should I?" she answered. "Ain't I coming back?"

"Yes, yes--Heaven only knows, " he said. "Oh, Rosamond, it may be I amparting with you forever, and at such a moment, is it a sin for you tokiss me? You asked to do so once. Will you do it now?"

"I will, " she replied, and she kissed, unhesitatingly, his quiveringlips. 

The Lawries were at the door--Mrs. Peters also--and forcing down hisemotion, he bade her a calm good-by. The carriage rolled away, but ereits occupants were six miles from Riverside, every article of dresswhich had belonged to Rosamond had disappeared from her room, whichpresented the appearance of any ordinary bed-chamber, and when Mrs. Peters, in great alarm, came to Mr. Browning, asking what he supposedhad become of them, he answered quietly--"I have put them in myprivate closet and locked them up!"

CHAPTER VI. 

MARIE PORTER. 

The models were crowded with visitors. Every apartment at ---- Hall, from basement to attic, was full, save two small rooms, eight by ten, so dingy and uncomfortable, that only in cases of emergency were theyoffered to guests. These, from necessity, were taken by the Lawries, but for Rosamond there was scarcely found a standing point, unless shewere willing to share the apartment of a sick lady, who had graciouslyconsented to receive any genteel, well-bred person, who looked asthough they would be quiet and not rummage her things more than once aday!

"She was a very high-bred woman, " the obsequious attendant said, "andher room the best in the house; she would not remain much longer, andwhen she was gone the young lady could have it alone, or share it withher companions. It contained two beds, of course, besides a few_nails_ for dresses. "

"Oh, do take it, " whispered the younger Miss Lawrie, who was not yetthoroughly versed in the _pleasures_ of a watering place, and who castrueful glances at her cheerless _pen_, so different from her airychamber at home. 

So Rosamond's trunks were taken to No. 20, whither she herselffollowed them. The first occupant, it would seem, was quite aninvalid, for though it was four in the afternoon, she was still inbed. Great pains, however had evidently been taken with her toilet, and nothing could have been more perfect than the arrangement of herpillows--her hair--her wrapper, and the crimson shawl she wore abouther shoulders. Rosamond bowed to her politely, and then, withoutnoticing her particularly, went over to the side of the room shesupposed was to be hers. She had just laid aside her hat, when thelady said: "That open blind lets in too much light. Will you pleaseshut it Miss ---- I don't know what to call you. "

"Miss Leyton, " answered Rosamond, "and you are--"

"Miss Porter, " returned the speaker. 

"Rosamond started quickly, for she remembered the name, and lookingfor the first time directly at the lady, she met a pair of large blackeyes fixed inquiringly upon her. 

"Leyton--Leyton, " repeated the lady, "where have I heard of youbefore?"

"At Atwater Seminary, perhaps, " suggested Rosamond, a little doubtfulis to the manner in which her intelligence would be received. 

A shadow flitted over the lady's face, but it was soon succeeded by asmile, and she said graciously, "Oh, yes, I know. You annoyed me and Iannoyed you. It was an even thing, and since we are thrown togetheragain, we will not quarrel about the past. Ain't you going to closethat blind? The light shines full in my face, and, as I did not sleepone wink last night, I am looking horridly to-day. "

"Excuse me, madam, " said Rosamond, "I was so taken by surprise that Iforgot your request, " and she proceeded to shut the blind. 

This being done, she divested herself of her soiled garments, washedher face, brushed her curls, and was about going in quest of hercompanions, when the lady asked if she had friends there. Rosamondreplied that she had, at the same time explaining how uncomfortablethey were. 

"The hotel is full, " said the lady, "and they all envy me my room; butif I pay for the best, I am surely entitled to the best. I shall notremain here long, however. Indeed, I did not expect to be here now, but sickness overtook me. I dare say I am the subject of many anxiousthoughts to the person I am going to visit. "

There was a half-exultant expression upon the lady's face as sheuttered these last words, but in the darkened room, Rosamond did notobserve it. She was sorry for one thus detained against her will, andleaning against the foot-board, she said: "You suffer a great dealfrom ill-health, do you not? Have you always been an invalid?"

"Not always. I was very healthy once, but a great trouble came uponme, shocking my nervous system terribly, and since then I have neverseen a well day. I was young when it occurred--about your age, Ithink. How old are you, Miss Leyton?"

"I am eighteen next October, " was Rosamond's reply, and the ladycontinued, "I was older than that. Most nineteen. I am twenty-eightnow. "

Rosamond did not know _why_ she said it, but she rejoined quickly:"Twenty-eight. So is _Mr. _ Browning!"

"_Who?_" exclaimed the lady, the tone of her voice so sharp--so loudand earnest, that Rosamond was startled, and did not answer for aninstant. 

When she did, she said, "I beg your pardon; it is Mr. Browning who istwenty-eight. "

"Ah, yes, I did not quite understand you. I'm a little hard ofhearing. Who is Mr. Browning?"

The voice had assumed its usually soft, smooth tone, and Rosamondcould not see the rapid beatings of the heart, nor the eager curiositylurking in the glittering black eyes. The lady _seemed_ indifferent, and smoothed carelessly the rich Valenciennes lace, which edged thesleeve of her cambric wrapper. 

"Did you tell me who Mr. Browning was, dear?" and the black eyeswandered over the counterpane looking everywhere but at Rosamond, sofearful was their owner lest they should betray the interest she feltin the answer. 

"Mr. Browning, " said Rosamond, "is--is--I hardly know what he is tome. I went to his house to live when I was a little, friendlessorphan, and he very kindly educated me, and made me what I am. I livewith him still at Riverside. " "Ye-es--Riverside--beau-ti-ful name--hiscountry--seat--I--sup-pose, " the words dropped syllable by syllablefrom the white lips, but there was no quiver in the voice--no ruffleupon her face. 

Raising herself upon her elbow, the lady continued, "Pray, don't thinkme fidgety, but won't you please open that shutter. I did not think itwould be so dark. There, that's a good girl. Now, come and sit by meon the bed, and tell me of Riverside. Put your feet in the chair, ortake this pillow. There, turn a little more to the light. I like tosee people when they talk to me. "

Rosamond complied with each request, and then, never dreaming of theclose examination to which her face was subjected, she began to speakof her beautiful home--describing it minutely, and dwelling somewhatat length upon the virtues of its owner. 

"You like him very much, " the lady said, nodding a little affirmativenod to her own question. 

"Yes--very--very much, " was Rosamond's answer; and the lady continued, "And _Mrs_. Browning? Do you like her, too?"

"There is no Mrs. Browning, " returned Rosamond, adding, quickly, asshe saw in her auditor's face an expression she did not understand, "but it is perfectly proper I should live there, for Mrs. Peters, thehousekeeper, has charge of me. "

"Perhaps, then, he will marry you, " and the jeweled hands workednervously under the crimson shawl. 

"Oh, no, he won't, " said Rosamond, decidedly, "he's too old for me. Why, his hair is turning gray!"

"That's nothing, " answered the lady, a little sharply. "Everybody'shair turns early now-a-days. Sarah found three or four silver threadsin mine, this morning. Miss Leyton, don't you love Mr. Browning?"

"Why, yes, " Rosamond began, and the face upon the pillow assumed adark and almost fiendish expression. "Why, yes, I love him as abrother, but nothing else. I respect him for his goodness, but itwould be impossible to love him with a marrying love. "

The fierce expression passed away, and Miss Porter was about to speakwhen Anna Lawrie sent for Rosamond, who excused herself and left theroom, thinking that, after all, she should like her old enemy ofAtwater Seminary very much. 

Meantime "the enemy" had buried her face in her pillows, and clenchingher blue veined fists, struck at the empty air, just as she would havestruck at the owner of Riverside had he been standing there. 

"Fine time he has of it, " she muttered, "living there with her, andshe so young and beautiful. I could have strangled her--the jade!--when she sat there talking so enthusiastically to _me, of him!_ Andshe loves him, too. I know she does, though she don't know it herself. But I must be wary. I must seem to like this girl--must win herconfidence--so I can probe her heart to its core, and if I find theylove each other!"--she paused a moment, then grinding her teethtogether, added slowly, as if the sound of her voice were musical andsweet, "Marie Porter will be avenged!"

That strange woman could be a demon or an angel, and as the lattercharacter suited her just now, Rosamond, on her return to her room, found her all gentleness and love. 

That night, when all around the house was still, the full moon shonedown upon a scene which would have chilled the blood of Ralph Browningand made his heart stand still. Upon a single bedstead near the windowRosamond Leyton lay calmly sleeping--her brown curls floating o'er thepillow--her cheeks flushed with health and beauty--her lips slightlyapart and her slender hands folded gracefully upon her bosom. Over hera fierce woman bent--her long, black hair streaming down her back--hereyes blazing with passion--her face the impersonation of malignity andhate; and there she stood, a vulture watching a harmless dove. Rosamond was dreaming of her home, and the ogress, standing near, heard her murmur, "dear Mr. Browning. "

For a moment Marie Porter stood immovable--then gliding back to herown couch, she whispered, "It is as I believed, and now _if_ he loves_her_, the time I've waited for so long has come. "

All that night she lay awake, burning with excitement and thirstingfor revenge, and when the morning came, the illness was not feignedwhich kept her in her bed and wrung from her cries of pain. She wasreally suffering now, and during the next few days, Rosamond stayedalmost constantly at her side, administering to her wants, and caringfor her so tenderly that hatred died out of the woman's heart, and shepitied the fair young girl, for in those few days she had learned whatRosamond did not know herself, though she was gradually waking up toit now. It was a long time since she had been separated from Mr. Browning, and she missed him so much, following him in fancy throughthe day, and at night wondering if he were thinking of her, andwishing he could hear the sound of her voice singing to him as she waswont to do when the twilight was over the earth. Anon there crept intoher heart a feeling she could not define--a feverish longing to bewhere he was--a sense of desolation and terrible pain when she thoughtof his insanity, and the long, dreary years which might ensue when hewould lose all knowledge of her. She did not care to talk so much ofhim now, but Miss Porter cared to have her, and caressingly winningthe girl's confidence, learned almost everything--learned that therewas an impediment to his marrying, and that Rosamond believed thatimpediment to be _hereditary insanity_--learned that he was oftenfitful and gloomy, treating his ward sometimes with coldness, andagain with the utmost tenderness. Of the interview in the libraryRosamond did not tell, but she told of everything else--of hisrefusing to let her come to the Springs and then compelling her, against her will, to go; and Marie Porter, holding the little hands inhers, and listening to the story, read it all, and read it aright, gloating over the anguish she knew it cost Ralph Browning to see thatbeautiful girl each day and know he must not win her. 

"But I pity _her_" she said, "for there is coming to her a terribleawakening. "

Then, for no other reason than a thirst for excitement, she longed tosee that awakening, and one day when they sat together alone, she tookRosamond's hand in hers, and examining its scarcely legible lines, said, half playfully, half seriously, "Rosamond, people have called mea fortune-teller. I inherited the gift from my grandmother, and thoughI do not pretend to much skill, I can surely read your destiny. You_love_ Mr. Browning. I have known that all along. You think of him byday--you dream of him by night, and no thought is half so sweet as thethought of going home to him. But, Rosamond, you will not marry him. There is an impediment, as you say, but not insanity. I cannot tellyou what it is, but I can see, " and she bent nearer to the hand whichtrembled in her own. "I can see that for you to marry him, or--markme, Rosamond--for you even to love him, is a most wicked thing--adreadful sin in the sight of Heaven, and you must forget him--willyou?"

Rosamond had laid her face upon the bed and was sobbing hysterically, for Miss Porter's manner frightened her even more than her words. Inreply to the question, "Will you?" she at last answered passionately, _"No, I won't!_ It is _not_ wicked to love him as I do. I am his_sister_, nothing more. "

Miss Porter's lip curled scornfully a moment, and then she said, "Letme tell you the story of _my_ life, shall I?"

No answer from Rosamond, and the lady continued: "When I was aboutyour age I fancied I loved a man who, I think, must have been muchlike Mr. Browning--"

"No, no, " interrupted Rosamond. "Nobody was ever like Mr. Browning. Idon't want to hear the Miss Porter, but if I mistake not she will gohome story. I don't want anything but to go home. "

I will not tell her until it's more necessary, thought much soonerthan she anticipates. And she was right, for on that very night Mr. Browning sat reading a letter which ran as follows:

"I find myself so happy with _your little_ Rosamond, who chances to bemy room-mate, that I have postponed my visit to Riverside, until somefuture time, which, if you continue neutral, may never come--but themoment you trespass on forbidden ground, or breathe a word of loveinto _her_ ear--beware! She loves _you_. I have found that out, and Itell it because I know it will not make your life more happy, or yourpunishment easier to bear!"

He did not shriek--he did not faint--he did not move--but from betweenhis teeth two words came like a burning hiss, "Curse her!" Then, seizing his pen, he dashed off a few lines, bidding Rosamond "not todelay a single moment, but to come home at once. "

"She knows it all, " he said, "and now, if _she_ comes here, it willnot be much worse. I can but die, let what will happen. "

This letter took Rosamond and the Lawries by surprise, but not so MissPorter. She expected it, and when she saw how eager Rosamond was togo, she smiled a hard, bitter smile, and said, "I've half a mind to gowith you. "

"_What! where?_ To _Riverside?_" asked Rosamond, suspending herpreparations for a moment, and hardly knowing whether she were pleasedor not. 

"Yes, to Riverside, " returned Miss Porter, "though on the whole, Ithink I'd better not. Mr. Browning may not care to see me. If he does, you can write and let me know. Give him my love, and say that if youhad not described him as so incorrigible an old bach, I might becoming there to try my powers upon him. I am _irresistible in mydiamonds_. Be sure and tell him that; and stay, Rosamond, I must giveyou some little token of my affection. What shall it be?" and shefeigned to be thinking. 

Most cruel must her thoughts have been, and even she hesitated amoment ere she could bring herself to such an act. Then with acontemptuous--"Pshaw!" she arose and opening her jewel box took from aprivate drawer a plain gold ring, bearing date nine years back, andhaving inscribed upon it simply her name "Marie. " This she brought toRosamond, saying, "I can't wear it now;--my hands are too thin andbony, but it just fits you, --see--" and she placed it upon the thirdfinger of Rosamond's left hand!

Rosamond thanked her, --admired the chaste beauty of the ring and thenwent on with her packing, while the wicked woman seated herself by thewindow and leaning her head upon her hands tried to quiet the voice ofconscience which cried out against the deed she had done. 

"It does not matter, " she thought. "That tie was severed years ago, --by his own act, too. The ring shall go. But will he see it! Men do notalways observe such things, " and then lest he should not quaff the cupof bitterness prepared for him, she wrote on a tiny sheet of gilt-edged paper, "Look on Rosamond's third finger!"

This she carefully sealed and gave to Rosamond, bidding her hand it toMr. Browning, and saying in answer to her look of inquiry, "It isabout a little matter concerning yourself. He can show it to you, ifhe thinks proper!"

"The omnibus, Miss, for the cars, " cried a servant at the door, andwith a hurried good-bye to her friends, Rosamond departed and was soonon her way to Riverside. 

CHAPTER VII. 

MAKING LOVE. 

An accident had occurred to the downward train, and Rosamond wasdetained upon the road for a long time, so that it was already darkwhen she reached the Granby depot. Wishing to surprise Mr. Browning, she started for home on foot, leaving her trunks in charge of thebaggage master. All around the house was still, and stepping into thehall she was about passing up the stairs, when the parlor doorsuddenly opened, throwing a glare of light upon her face. The sameinstant some one caught her round the neck, and kissing her twice, only released her when she exclaimed, "_Mr. Browning_, I am surprisedat you!"

"Mr. Browning! _Thunder!_ Just as though I was my uncle!" cried afamiliar voice, and looking at the speaker, Rosamond recognized _BenVan Vechten!_ He had come to Riverside the day previous, he said, andhearing she was expected, had waited at the depot four mortal hours, and then returned in disgust. 

"But how did you know me?" she asked, and he replied, "By yourdaguerreotype, of course. There is but one such beautiful face in thewhole world. "

He was disposed to be complimentary, and Rosamond was not sorry whenhis mother appeared, for in her presence he was tolerably reserved. Mrs. Van Vechten greeted Rosamond politely, but the old hauteur wasthere, and her manner seemed to say, "If you are educated and refined, I can't forget that you were once my waiting-maid. "

"Where is Mr. Browning?" asked Rosamond, and _Ben_ replied, "Oh, up inhis den having the shakes. He mopes there all the time. Can't youbreak him of the blues?"

"I'll go and try, " answered Rosamond, and she started up the stairs, followed by Ben, whose mother called him back, bidding him, in a lowvoice, "stay where he was, and not make a fool of himself. "

She could trust her _brother_, but not her _son_, and she thus did theformer the greatest favor she could have done--she let him meet youngRosamond Leyton alone. The evening was quite chilly for July, and, as, since the receipt of Miss Porter's note, Mr. Browning had seemedrather agueish, there was a fire burning in the grate, and it cast itsshadows upon him as he sat in his accustomed chair. His back wastoward the door, and he knew nothing of Rosamond's return until two, soft, white hands were placed before his eyes, and a voice which triedto be unnatural, said "Guess who I am. "

"Rosamond--darling--have you come back to me again?" he exclaimed, andstarting up, he wound his arm about her, and looked into her face, expecting, momentarily, to hear her say, "Yes, I know it all. "

But Rosamond did not say so. She merely told him how glad she was tobe at home once more, in her delight forgetting that Marie Porter hadsaid she loved the man who held her closely to his side and smoothedher wavy hair even while his heart throbbed painfully with memories ofthe past and trembled for the future. He longed to speak of her room-mate, but he dared not betray his knowledge of her existence, and hesat there waiting, yet dreading to hear the hated name. 

"Did you room alone?" he asked at last, and now remembering the words, "You do love him, " Rosamond moved quickly from his side. "She doesknow, " he thought, and a silent moan of anguish died upon his lips. But Rosamond did not know--the movement was actuated by mere maidenlyreserve, and sitting down directly opposite him, she told him of MissPorter, whom she said she liked so well. 

"How much of an invalid is she?" asked Mr. Browning, when he couldtrust his voice to speak. 

"Her health is miserable, " returned Rosamond. "She has the heartdisease, and her waiting-maid told me she was liable to die at anytime if unusually excited. "

It might have been because Rosamond was there that Mr. Browningthought the room was brighter than it had been before, and quitecalmly he listened while she told him more of her new friend. 

"She seemed so interested in you, and in Riverside, " said Rosamond, "and even proposed coming home with me--"

Mr. Browning started suddenly, and as suddenly a coal snapped out uponthe carpet. This was an excuse for his movement, and Rosamondcontinued, "She thought, though, you might not care to see her, beinga stranger, but she sent you _her love, _ and--. You are cold, ain'tyou, Mr. Browning? You shiver like a leaf. Ben said you'd had theague. "

Rosamond closed the door and commenced again. "Where was I? Oh, Iknow. She said if you were not a confirmed bachelor she would try herpowers on you. _'She was irresistible in her diamonds, '_ she bade metell you. But have you an ague chill, really? or what makes your teethchatter so? Shall I ring for more coal?"

"No, Rosamond, no. Fire does not warm me; I shall be better soon. "

Rosamond pitied him, he looked so white and seemed to be suffering somuch, and she remained silent for a time. Then remembering the note, she handed it to him, and turning toward the fire, stooped down to fixa bit of coal which was in danger of dropping from the grate. While inthis attitude a cry between a howl of rage and a moan of anguish fellupon her ear--her shoulders were grasped by powerful hands, andlooking up she saw Mr. Browning, his face distorted with passion andhis flashing eyes riveted upon the _ring_ glittering in the firelight. Seizing her hand, he wrenched it from her finger, and glanced at thename--then, swift as thought, placed it upon the marble hearth, andcrushed it with his heel. 

"It's mine--you've broken it, " cried Rosamond, but he did not heedher, and gathering up the pieces, he hurled them into the grate--then, pale as ashes, sank panting into the nearest chair. 

Rosamond was thunder-struck. She did not suppose he had had time toread the note, and never dreaming there was any connection betweenthat and his strange conduct, she believed him to be raving mad, andher first impulse was to fly. Her second thought, however, was, "Iwill not leave him. He has these fits often, now, I know, and that iswhy he sent for me. He knew I could quiet him, and I will. "

So Rosamond stayed, succeeding so far in soothing him that his eyeslost their savage gleam, and were suffused with a look of unnaturaltenderness when they rested on her face. He did not ask her how shecame by the ring, for he knew it had been sent as an insult to him, and he felt a glow of satisfaction in knowing that it was blackeningon the grate. Ben's voice was now heard in the hall, asking if theyintended staying there all night, and in a whisper Mr. Browning badeRosamond go down and apologize for him. She accordingly descended tothe parlor, telling Mrs. Van Vechten that her brother was too muchindisposed to come down, and wished to be excused. Mrs. Van Vechtenbowed coolly, and taking a book of prints, busied herself for awhilein examining them; then the book dropped from her hand--her head fellback--her mouth fell open, and Ben, who was anxiously watching her, knew by unmistakable sounds that she was fast asleep. It was now histime, and faithfully did he improve it, devoting himself soassiduously to Rosamond, that she was glad when a _snore, _ louder andmore prolonged than any which had preceded it started the ladyherself, and produced symptoms of returning consciousness. 

The next day, and the next, it was the same, and at the expiration ofa week, Ben had determined either to marry Rosamond Leyton, or go tothe _Crimean War, _ this last being the bugbear, with which he intendedfrightening his mother into a consent. He hardly dared disobey heropenly for fear of disinheritance, and he would rather she shouldexpress her willingness to receive Miss Leyton as her daughter. Heaccordingly startled her one day by asking her to sanction hisintended proposal to the young girl. Nothing could exceed Mrs. VanVechten's amazement and contempt. She would never consent, and if Benpersisted in making so disgraceful an alliance, she would disinherithim at once. Ben knew she was in earnest, and so fell back upon theCrimean war as a last resort. "He would go immediately--would startthat very day for New York--he had money enough to carry him there, "and he painted so vividly "death on a distant battle-field, with aferocious _Russian_ rifling his trousers' pocket, " that his motherbegan to cry, though she still refused to relent. 

"Choose, mother, choose, " said he. "It's almost car time--Rosamond orthe war, " and he drew on his heavy boots. 

"Oh Benjamin, you, will kill me dead. "

"I know it. I mean to. Rosamond or the war!" and he buttoned up hiscoat preparatory to a start. 

"Do, Ben, listen to reason. "

"I won't--I won't;--Rosamond or the war! I shall rush into thethickest of the fight, and be killed the first fire, of course, andblack is _so_ unbecoming to you. "

"Stop, I entreat. You know you are afraid of cannons;" this was saidbeseechingly. 

"Thunder, mother! No, I ain't! Rosamond or the war--choose quick. Ihear the whistle at East Granby. "

He left the room--went down the stairs, out at the door, through theyard, and out into the avenue, while his distracted mother lookedafter him through blinding tears. She knew how determined he was whenonce his mind was made up, and she feared his present excitement wouldlast until he was fairly shipped, and it was too late to return. Hewould never fight, she was sure, and at the first battle-sound hewould fly, and be hung as a deserter, no doubt! This touched herpride. She would rather people should say of her boy that he married amilliner's daughter than that he was hung, and hurrying to the windowjust as Ben looked back, hoping for a signal, she waved her hand forhim to return, calling out at the top of her voice, "I relent--Irelent. " "I knew the _Crimea_ would fetch her, " said Ben; "lucky Ithought of that, " and without going to his mother at all, he soughtout Rosamond. Half an hour later he astonished the former by rushinginto her presence, and exclaiming, "She's refused me, mother; and shemeant it, too. Oh, _I shall die_--I know I shall. _Oh, oh, oh!"_ andBen rolled on the floor in his frantic grief. As nearly as she could, Mrs. Van Vechten learned the particulars of his interview withRosamond, and, though at first secretly pleased that he had beenrefused, she felt a very little piqued that her son should thus bedishonored, and when she saw how wretched it had made him, herfeelings were enlisted in his behalf, and she tried to soothe him bysaying that her brother had a great deal of influence with Rosamond, and they would refer the matter to him. 

"Go now, mother. Don't wait a minute, " pleaded Ben, and Mrs. VanVechten started for her brother's library. 

She found him alone, and disclosed the object of her visit at once. Rosamond had refused her son, who, in consequence, was nearlydistracted, and threatened going to the Crimean war--a threat she knewhe would execute unless her brother persuaded Rosamond to revoke herdecision and think again. 

Mr. Browning turned as white as marble, but his sister was too muchabsorbed in her own matters to heed his emotions, and she continued--

"Of course it will be mortifying to us all to have her in the family, and maybe Ben will get over it; but they must be engaged somehow, orhe'll go away. I'll send her up to you immediately, " and she hurriedlyleft the room in quest of Rosamond. For a moment Mr. Browning sat likeone stupefied; then, covering his face with his hands, he moaned, "Must _this_ come upon me, too? Must I, who love her so madly, bid hermarry another? And yet what does it matter? She can never be mine--andif she marries Ben I can keep them with me always, and that vile womanwill have no cause for annoying me. She said Rosamond loved me, but Ipray Heaven that may not be so. "

A light tread echoed in the hall, and with each fall of those littlefeet, Ralph Browning's heart throbbed painfully. Another moment andRosamond was there with him--her cheeks flushed--her eyelashes wetwith tears, and her whole manner betrayed an unusual degree ofexcitement. 

"I understand from your sister, " said she, "that you wish me to marry_Ben, _ or leave your house. I will do the latter, but the former--never! Shall I consider our interview at an end?"

She turned to leave the room, but Mr. Browning caught her dress, exclaiming: "Stay, Rosamond, and hear me. I never uttered such wordsto Mrs. Van Vechten. I do not wish you to marry Ben unless you lovehim. Do you love him, Rosamond? Do you love anybody?"

This was not what he intended to say--but he had said it, and now hewaited for her answer. To the first question it came in a decided "No, I do not love him, " and to the last it came in burning blushes, stealing over her cheek--her forehead--her neck, and speaking in herdowncast eye. She had never believed that she did love her guardian, until told that he wished her to marry another, when it burst upon herin all its force, and she could no more conceal it now than she couldstop the rapid beatings of her heart. He saw it all in her tell-taleface, and forgetting everything, he wound his arms around her, anddrawing her to his side, whispered in her ear, "Darling, Rosamond, saythat you love me. Let me hear that assurance once, and I shall bealmost willing to die. "

"Ladies do not often confess an attachment until sure it is returned, "was Rosamond's answer, and doubly forgetful now of all the drearypast, Ralph Browning poured into her ear hot, burning words of love--hugging her closer and closer to him until through the open windowcame the sound of Mrs. Peters' voice calling to the stranger girl whohad that morning entered service at Riverside as a waiting-maid ingeneral. _Maria_ was the name, and as the ominous word fell upon Mr. Browning's ear, he started, and pushing Rosamond from him, turnedhis face away so she could not see the expression of mute despairsettling down upon it. Sinking upon the lounge he buried his face inits cushions while Rosamond looked curiously upon him, feeling surethat she knew what it was that so affected him. He had told her of hislove--had said that she was dearer to him than his life, and inconfessing this he had forgotten the dark shadow upon his life, and itwas the dread of telling it to her--the pain of saying "I love you, but you cannot be my wife, " which affected him so strangely. But sheknew it all, and she longed to assure him of her sympathy. At lastwhen he seemed to be more calm, she stole up to him, and kneeling athis side bent over him so that her bright hair mingled with his own. 

"Mr. Browning, " she whispered softly, "I _know your secret, _ and I donot love you less. "

"_You, Rosamond, you know it!_" he exclaimed, gazing fixedly at her. "It cannot be. You would never do as you have done. "

"But I do know it, " she continued, taking both his hands in hers, andlooking him steadily in the eye, by way of controlling him, should hebe seized with a sudden attack, "I know exactly what it is, and thoughit will prevent me from being your wife, it will not prevent me fromloving you just the same, or from living with you either. I shall stayhere always--and--and--pardon me, Mr. Browning, but when you getfurious, as you sometimes do, I can quiet you better than any oneelse, and it may be, the world will never need to know you're a_madman!"_

Mr. Browning looked searchingly into her innocent eyes, and then, inspite of himself, he laughed aloud. He understood why she should thinkhim a madman, and though he repented of it afterward, he hastened toundeceive her now. "As I hope to see another day, it is not that, " hesaid. "It is far worse than insanity; and, Rosamond, though it breaksmy heart to say it, it is wicked for me to talk of love to you, andyou must not remember what I said. You must crush every tender thoughtof me. You must forget me--nay, more--you must _hate_ me. Will you, Rosamond?"

"No--no--no! she cried, and laying her face in his lap, she burst intoa passionate flood of tears. 

"Leave me, " he whispered, "or I _shall_ go mad, for I know I am thecause of this distress. "

There was decision in the tones of his voice, and it stilled thetumult in Rosamond's bosom. Rising to her feet, she said calmly: "Iwill go, but I cannot forget that you deceived me. You have wrung fromme a confession of my love, only to throw it back upon me as apriceless thing. "

Not thus would he part with her, and grasping her arm, he began:"Heaven knows how much more than my very life I love you--"

He did not finish the sentence, for through the air a small, darkobject came, and, missing its aim, dropped upon the hearth, where itwas broken in a hundred pieces. It was a vase which stood upon thetable in the hall, and Ben Van Vechten's was the hand that threw it!Impatient at the delay, he had come up in time to hear his uncle'slast words, which aroused his Southern blood at once, and seizing thevase, he hurled it at the offender's head--then, rushing down thestairs, he burst upon his mother with "Great thunder! mother; UncleRalph is making love to Rosamond himself, and she likes it too. I sawit with my own eyes! I'll hang myself in the barn, or go to theCrimean war!" and Ben bounded up and down like an India-rubber ball. Suddenly remembering that another train was due ere long, he dartedout of the house, followed by his distracted mother, who, divining hisintention, ran swiftly after him, imploring him to return. Pausing fora moment as he struck into the highway, he called out, "Good-by, mother. I've only one choice left--WAR! Give my love to Rosamond, andtell her I shall die like a hero. You needn't wear black, if you don'twant to. Good-by. "

He turned the corner--he had started for the _war_--and mentallyresolving to follow him in the next train, Mrs. Van Vechten returnedto the house, and sought her brother. 

"Ralph, " she began, sternly, "have you talked of love to Rosamond?"

Mr. Browning had borne so much that nothing startled him now, andreturning her glance unflinchingly, he replied, "I have. "

"How, then--is Marie dead?" the lady asked. 

"Not to my knowledge--but hist, " was the reply, as Mr. Browning noddedtoward the hall, where a rustling movement was heard. 

It was the _new girl_, coming with a dust-pan and brush to remove thefragments of the vase, though how she knew they were there, was aquestion she alone could answer. For a single instant her dull, grayeye shot a gleam of intelligence at the occupants of the room, andthen assuming her usual appearance, she did what she came to do, anddeparted. When they were again alone, Mrs. Van Vechten demanded anexplanation of her brother, who gave it unhesitatingly. Cold-heartedas she always seemed, Mrs. Van Vechten had some kind feelings left, and, touched by her brother's tale of suffering, she gave him no wordof reproach, and even unbent herself to say that a brighter day mightcome to him yet. Then she spoke of Ben, announcing her determinationof following him that night. To this plan Mr. Browning offered noremonstrance, and when the night express left the Granby station, itcarried with it Mrs. Van Vechten, in pursuit of the runaway Ben. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

NEWS. 

Nearly two weeks had passed away since the exciting scene in Mr. Browning's library, and during that time Rosamond had kept herselfaloof from her guardian, meeting him only at the table, where shemaintained toward him a perfectly respectful but rather freezingmanner. She was deeply mortified to think he had won from her aconfession of her love, and then told her how useless--nay, worse--howwicked it was for her to think of him. She knew that he sufferedintensely, but she resolutely left him to suffer alone, and he wouldrather it should be so. 

Life was growing more and more a wearisome burden, and when, just oneweek after the library interview, he received a note in the well-remembered handwriting, he asked that he might die and forget hisgrief. The letter was dated at the Springs, where Miss Porter wasstill staying, though she said she intended starting the next day forCuyler, a little out-of-the-way place on the lake, where there was butlittle company, and she could be quiet and recruit her nervous system. The latter had been terribly shocked, she said, by hearing of hisrecent attempt at making love to Rosamond Leyton! "Indeed, " she wrote, "it is to this very love-making that you owe this letter from me, as Ideem it my duty to keep continually before your mind the fact that_I_ am still alive. "

With a blanched cheek Mr. Browning read this letter through--then toreit into fragments, wondering much who gave her the information. Therewere no _spies_ about his premises. Rosamond would not do it, and itmust have been his sister, though why she should thus wish to annoyhim he did not know, when she, more than any one else, had beeninstrumental in placing him where he was. Once he thought of tellingRosamond all, but he shrank from this, for she would leave his house, he knew, and, though she might never again speak kindly to him, hewould rather feel that she was there. 

And so another dreary week went by, and then one morning there came tohim tidings which stopped for an instant the pulsations of his heart, and sent through his frame a thrill so benumbing and intense that atfirst pity and horror were the only emotions of which he seemedcapable. It came to him in a newspaper paragraph, which in substancewas as follows:

"A sad catastrophe occurred on Thursday afternoon at Cuyler, a littleplace upon the lake, which of late has been somewhat frequented duringthe summer months. Three ladies and one gentleman went out in a smallpleasure-boat which is kept for the accommodation of the guests. Theyhad not been gone very long when a sudden thunder-gust came on, accompanied by a violent wind, and the owner of the skiff, feelingsome alarm for the safety of the party, went down to the landing justin time to see the boat make a few mad plunges with the waves, andthen capsize at the distance of nearly half a mile from the shore. 

"Every possible effort was made to save the unfortunate pleasure-seekers, but in vain; they disappeared from view long before a boatcould reach them. One of the bodies has not yet been recovered. It isthat of a Miss Porter, from Florida. She had reached Cuyler only theday previous, and was unaccompanied by a single friend, save awaiting-maid, who seems overwhelmed with grief at the loss of hermistress. "

This, then, was the announcement which so affected Ralph Browning, blotting out for a moment the wretched past, and taking him back tothe long ago when he first knew Marie Porter and fancied that he lovedher. She was _dead_ now--_dead. _ Many a time he whispered that word tohimself, and with each repetition the wish grew strong within him--notthat she were living, but that while living he had not hated her sobitterly, and with the softened feeling which death will always bring, he blamed himself far more than he did her. There had been wrong onboth sides, but he would rather now, that she had been reconciled tohim ere she found that watery grave. Hand in hand with thesereflections came another thought; a bewildering, intoxicating thought. He was _free_ at last--free to _love_--to _worship_--to _marry_Rosamond. 

"And I will go to her at once, " he said, after the first hour had beengiven to the dead; "I will tell her all the truth. "

He rose to leave the room, but something stayed him there, andwhispered in his ear, "There may be some mistake. Cuyler is not faraway. Go there first and investigate. "

For him to will was to do, and telling Mrs. Peters he should be absentfrom home for a time, he started immediately for Cuyler, which hereached near the close of the day. Calm and beautiful looked thewaters of the lake on that summer afternoon, and if within theircaverns the ill-fated Marie slept, they kept over her an unruffledwatch and told no tales of her last dying wail to the careworn, haggard man who stood upon the sandy beach, where they said that sheembarked, and listened attentively while they told him how gay sheseemed that day, and how jestingly she spoke of the dark thunderheadwhich even then was mounting the western horizon. They had tried invain to find her, and it was probable she had sunk into one of theunfathomable holes with which the lake was said by some to abound. Sarah, the waiting-maid, wept passionately, showing that the deceasedmust have had some good qualities, or she could not thus have attacheda servant to her. 

Looking upon Mr. Browning as a friend of her late mistress, she reliedon him for counsel, and when he advised her immediate return toFlorida, she readily consented, and started on the same day that heturned his face toward Riverside. They had said to him: "If we findher, shall we send her to your place?" and with an involuntary shudderhe had answered, "No--oh, no. You must apprise me of it by letter, asalso her Florida friends--but bury her quietly here. "

They promised compliance with his wishes, and feeling that a load wasoff his mind, he started at once for home. Certainty now was doublysure. Marie was dead, and as this conviction became more and morefixed upon his mind, he began to experience a dread of tellingRosamond all. Why need she know of it, when the telling it would throwmuch censure on himself. She was not a great newspaper reader--she hadnot seen the paragraph, and would not see it. He could tell her thatthe obstacle to his happiness had been removed--that 'twas no longer asin for him to think of her or seek to make her his wife. All this hewould say to her, but nothing more. 

And all this he did say to her in the summer-house at the foot of thegarden, where he found her just as the sun was setting. And Rosamondlistened eagerly--never questioning him of the past, or caring to hearof it. She was satisfied to know that she might love him now, and withhis arm around her, she sat there alone with him until the August moonwas high up in the heavens. He called her his "sunshine"--his "light"--his "life, " and pushing the silken curls from off her childish brow, kissed her again and again, telling her she should be his wife whenthe twentieth day of November came. That was his twenty-ninthbirthday, and looking into her girlish face, he asked her if he werenot too old. He knew she would tell him _no_, and she did, lovinglycaressing his grayish hair. 

"He had grown young since he sat there, " she said, and so, indeed, hehad, and the rejuvenating process continued day after day, until thevillagers laughingly said that his approaching marriage had put himback ten years. It was known to all the town's folks now, and unlikemost other matches, was pronounced a suitable one. Even Mrs. VanVechten, who had found Ben at Lovejoy's Hotel, and still remained withhim in New York, wrote to her brother a kind of congratulatory letter, mingled with sickly sentimental regrets for the "heart-broken, deserted and now departed Marie. " It was doubtful whether she came upto the wedding or not, she said, as Ben had positively refused tocome, or to leave the city either, and kept her constantly on thewatch lest he should elope with a second-rate actress at Laura Keene'stheatre. 

Rosamond laughed heartily when Mr. Browning told her of this suddenchange in Ben, and then with a sigh as she thought how many times hissoft, good-natured heart would probably be wrung, she went back to thepreparations for her bridal, which were on a magnificent scale. Theywere going to Europe--they would spend the winter in Paris, and as Mr. Browning had several influential acquaintances there, they would ofcourse see some society, and he resolved that his bride should beinferior to none in point of dress, as she was to none in point ofbeauty. Everything which love could devise or money procure waspurchased for her, and the elegance of her outfit was for a long timethe only theme of village gossip. 

Among the members of the household none seemed more interested in thepreparations than the girl Maria, who has before been incidentallymentioned. Her dull eyes lighted up with each new article of dress, and she suddenly displayed so much taste in everything pertaining to alady's toilet, that Rosamond was delighted and kept her constantlywith her, devising this new thing and that, all of which wereinvariably tried on and submitted to the inspection of Mr. Browning, who was sure to approve whatever his Rosamond wore. And thus gaylysped the halcyon hours, bringing at last the fading leaf and thewailing October winds; but to Rosamond, basking in the sunlight oflove, there came no warning note to tell her of the dark November dayswhich were hurrying swiftly on. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE GUEST AT RIVERSIDE. 

The November days had come. The satin dress was made--the bridal veilsent home--the wreath of orange, too; and then, one morning when thesummer, it would seem, had come to revisit the scenes of its briefreign, Mr. Browning kissed his bride-elect, and wiped away the two bigtears which dropped from her eyelashes when he told her that he wasgoing away for that day and the next. 

"But when to-morrow's sun is setting, I shall be with you again, " hesaid, and he bade her quiet the fluttering of her little heart, whichthrobbed so painfully at parting with him. 

"I don't know why it is, " she said, "I'm not one bit superstitious, but Bruno howled so dismally under my window all night, and when heceased, a horrid owl set up a screech. I told Maria, and she said, inher country the cry of an owl was a sign that the grave was about togive up its dead, and she looked so mysterious that she frightened meall the more--"

"That Maria is too superstitious, and I don't like her to be with youso much, " said Mr. Browning, his own cheek turning slightly pale, ashe thought of the grave giving up _his_ dead. Thrice he turned back tokiss the little maiden, who followed him down the avenue, and thenclimbed into a box-like seat, which had been built on the top of thegate-post, and was sheltered by a sycamore. "Here, " said she, "shall Iwait for you to-morrow night, when the sun is away over there. Oh, Iwish it would hurry. "

He wished so, too, and with another fond good-by they parted. The dayseemed long to Rosamond, and, though she varied the time by trying oneach and every one of her new dresses, she was glad when it was night, so she could go to bed and sleep the time away. The next morning thedepression of spirits was gone; he was coming--she should wait for himbeneath the sycamore--possibly she would hide to make him believe shewas not there, and the bright blushes stole over her dimpled cheeks asshe thought what he would do when he found that she _was_ there. 

"Ten o'clock, " she said to herself, as she heard the whistle of theupward train. "Seven hours more and he will come. "

Going to her room, she took a book, in which she tried to beinterested, succeeding so well that, though her windows commanded aview of the avenue, she did not see the lady who came slowly up thewalk, casting about her eager, curious glances, and pausing more thanonce to note the exceeding beauty of the place. Once she stopped for along time, and, leaning against a tree, seemed to be debating whetherto turn back or go on. Deciding upon the latter, she arose, andquickening her movements, soon stood upon the threshold. Her ring wasanswered by Maria, who betrayed no surprise, for from the upper hallMrs. Peters herself was closely inspecting the visitor. 

"Is Mr. Browning at home?" the lady asked. 

"Gone to Buffalo, " was the laconic reply, and a gleam of satisfactionflitted over the face of the questioner, who continued--"And the younglady, Miss Leyton? Has she gone too?"

"She is here, " said Maria, still keeping her eye upon the shadowbending over the balustrade. "What name shall I give her?"

"No name. I wish to surprise her, " and passing on into the parlor, thestranger laid aside her hat and shawl with the air of one perfectlyathome; then seating herself upon a sofa, she examined the room ascuriously as she had examined the grounds of Riverside. 

"It seems a pity to mar all this, " she said, "and were it not that Ihate him so much, I would go away forever, though that would be agreater injury to her than my coming to life will be. Of course he'stold her all, and spite of her professed liking for me, she is gladthat I am dead. I long, yet dread, to see her amazement; but hist--shecomes. "

There was the sound of little, high-heeled slippers on the stairs, theflutter of a pink morning gown, and then Rosamond Leyton stood face toface with--Marie Porter! The grave had given up its dead, and withoutany visible marks of the world prepared for such as she, save, indeed, the increased _fire_ which burned in her black eyes, the risen womansat there much as living people sit--her head bent forward--her lipsapart--and a look of expectation upon her face. But she was doomed todisappointment. Rosamond knew nothing of the past, and with a cry ofpleasurable surprise she started forward, exclaiming, "Oh, MissPorter, I felt so cross when told a visitor was here, but now I knowwho 'tis, I am so glad, for I am very lonely to-day. "

The hard woman swept her hand a moment before her eyes, and with thatmovement swept away the kindly spirit, which whispered, "Don'tundeceive her. Don't quench the light of that bright face, nor breakthat girlish heart. "

But it was necessary; Marie Porter knew that, and though she repentedof what she had done, it was now too late to retreat, and all shecould do was to break the heart of the unsuspecting girl as tenderlyas possible. 

"Why are you so lonely?" she said, "This is a most beautiful spot. Ibelieve I'd like to live here myself. "

"Oh, yes, 'tis a lovely place, " answered Rosamond, "but--but--Mr. Browning is not here, " and she averted her crimson face. 

"Is Mr. Browning so necessary to your happiness" Miss Porter asked, and bringing an ottoman, Rosamond sat down at her visitor's feet andthus replied: "We talked so much of him at the Springs that it surelyis not foolish in me to tell you what everybody knows. Now, you won'tlaugh at me, will you? Mr. Browning and I are going to--oh, I can'ttell it; but, any way, your fortune-telling is not true. "

"Mr. Browning and you are going to be married. Is that it?" the womanasked; and with a quick, upward glance of her soft, browneyes, Rosamond replied, Yes, that's it--that's it; and oh, you can'tbegin to guess how happy I am. He is not _crazy_ either. It wassomething else, though I don't know what, for he never told me, and Ido not care to know. The obstacle has been removed, whatever it was, and it has wrought such a change in him. He's so much younger--handsomer, now, and so kind to me. I'm glad you've come, Miss Porter, and you'll stay till after the wedding. It's the twentieth, and he hasbought me so many new things. We are going to Europe. Just think of awinter in Paris, with Mr. Browning! But, what! Are you _crying_?" andRosamond started as a burning tear fell upon her forehead. 

"Rosamond Leyton, " said Miss Porter, in a voice husky with emotion, "Ihave not wept in eight long years, but the sight of you, so innocent, so happy, wrings the tears from my stony heart, as agony willsometimes force out the drops of perspiration when the body isshivering with cold. I was young like you once, and my bridal wasfixed--" She paused, and stealing an arm around her waist, Rosamondsaid pleadingly, "Tell me about it, Miss Porter, I always knew you hada history. Did the man die?"

"No--no. Better for me if he had--aye, and better, too, for you. "

This last was a whisper, and Rosamond did not hear it. Her thoughtswere bent upon the story, and she continued, "Will it pain you toomuch to tell it now?"

"Yes, yes, wait, " Miss Porter said, "Wait until after dinner, andmeantime, as I cannot possibly stay until the 20th, perhaps you willlet me see your dresses. "

Nothing could please Rosamond more, and gay as a little child, she ledthe way to a large upper room, which contained her wedding outfit. Proudly she displayed her treasures, flitting like a bird from onepile of finery to another, and reserving the most important until thevery last. 

"There's the dinner-bell, " she suddenly exclaimed, "I did not think itcould be _one_. Only four hours more--but come, let us go down andafter dinner, if you'll never tell Mrs. Peters, nor anybody, I'll tryon my bridal dress and let you see if it is becoming. I want so muchto know how it looks, since Maria put the rose-buds in the berthe. Andthen your story. I must hear that. "

As they were going down the stairs Miss Porter took Rosamond's handand said, "How is this?--Where is my ring?"

Rosamond could not tell her of an act which now that it no longer hadinsanity for an excuse, puzzled her not a little. So she made sometrivial excuse, which, however, did not deceive her auditor. But thelatter deemed it wise to say no more just then, and silently followedher young friend into the dining-room. Dinner being over they went upto Rosamond's chamber, the closet of which contained the bridal robes. 

"_Two o'clock_, " said Rosamond, consulting her watch, then bringingout the rich white satin and exquisite overskirt of lace, shecontinued, "I shall have just time to try this on, hear your story andget dressed before Mr. Browning comes. How short the day seems withyou here! I told him I'd be sitting in that little box which youpossibly noticed, built on the gate-post against the tree. --And he'llbe so disappointed not to find me there, that maybe you won't mind myleaving you awhile when the sun is right over the woods. "

"Certainly not, " answered Miss Porter, and the dressing-up processbegan, Rosamond chatting gayly all the while and asking if it werevery foolish for her to try on the dress. "I should not do it, " shesaid, "if you would stay. Can't you?"

The answer was a decided negative, and adjusting her little slipper, Rosamond stood up while her companion put over her head the satindress. It fitted admirably, and nothing could have been fairer thanthe round, chubby arms and plump, well-shaped shoulders which the_shortcomings_ of the dress showed to good advantage. Now the laceover-skirt--now the berthe--and then the veil, with the orange-wreathtwined among the flowing curls, and Rosamond was dressed at last. 

"How do I look?" she asked, but Marie Porter made no immediate reply, and as she gazed upon the young girl, so beautiful, so innocent, andunsuspecting, who can tell of the keen anguish at her heart, or howshe shrank from the bitter task which she must do, and quickly, too, for the clock pointed to _three_, and her plan was now to strike the_dove_ and then flee ere the _eagle_ came. She would thus wound himmore deeply, for the very uncertainty would add fresh poison to hiscup of agony. 

"How do I look?" Rosamond asked again, and after duly complimentingthe dress, Miss Porter added, "I promised you my story, and if I tellit at all to-day, I must begin it now, for it is long, and I wouldfinish it ere Mr. Browning comes. "

"Very well, I'm all attention, " said Rosamond, and like a lamb beforeits slaughterer she knelt before the woman, bending low her gracefulhead to have the wreath removed. 

This done, Miss Porter said, "Have you any camphor handy, orhartshorn? I am sometimes faint and may want them. "

"Yes, both, here, in the bathing-room, " said Rosamond, and she broughtthem to the lady, who placed them upon the table--not for herself, butfor one who would need them more--for poor, poor Rosamond. Thedisrobing proceeded slowly, for the little girl was well pleased withthe figure reflected by the mirror. But Miss Porter could not wait, and when the wreath, the veil, and berthe were removed, she seatedherself by the window in a position which commanded a full view of hervictim's face; and forcing down the throbbings of her heart, which itseemed to her were audible in that silent room, she commenced thestory. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE STORY. 

"My home, " began Miss Porter, "is, as you know, in Florida. I am anonly child, as were both my parents, so that I have now living nonearer relative than a great-uncle--a superannuated clergyman, whosuperintends my affairs, and who, in case I die before he does, whichis very probable, will be heir to my possessions. 

"It is now nearly ten years since my father started for Europe, and Iwent to an adjoining state to visit a widow lady, whom I had met inNew Orleans the winter previous. It is not necessary that I should usereal names, consequently I will call her Mrs. Le Vert. She wasspending the summer on her plantation, at what she called her country-seat. It was a large, old-fashioned, wooden building, many miles fromany neighbors, and here she lived alone--for her only son, a lad oftwelve years of age, was at some northern school. At first I was verylonely, for the secluded life we led at Holly Grove was hardly inaccordance with the taste of a young girl. Still, I did not mind it asmuch as some, for I cared but little for gentlemen's society, and hadfrequently declared that I should never marry. 

"Toward the last of July, Mrs. Le Vert's brother came to visit her. Hewas a handsome, boyish-looking youth, six months older than myself--just out of college--full of life and very fond of pretty girls, particularly if they chanced to be wealthy. "

"That's a little like Ben, " said Rosamond, and Miss Porter continued:

"From the first, Mrs. Le Vert seemed determined to make a matchbetween us, for her brother was poor, and she fancied it would be afine idea to have the Porter estate come into the Dunlap family. Soshe threw us constantly together--talked of me to him and of him tome, until I really began to believe I liked him. He, on the contrary, cared for nothing but my money. Still he deemed it advisable to assumea show of affection, and one night talked to me of love quiteeloquently. I had been to a dinner party that day, and had worn all mydiamonds. He had never seen them before, and they must have inflamedhis avarice, for I afterward heard him tell his sister that he nevershould have proposed if I had not looked so beautiful that night. '_I was irresistible in my diamonds_, ' he said. "

Miss Porter paused a moment to witness the effect of her last words, but Rosamond was looking over her shoulder at a _wrinkle_ she had justdiscovered in the waist, and did not heed them. Still she waslistening, and she said, "Yes--go on. You were looking beautifullythat night. Did you consent to marry him?"

"Unhappily, I did, " returned Miss Porter, "for I had made myselfbelieve that I loved him. I wished that he was older, to be sure, buthe said he would wait until he was of age. This plan, however, did notsuit his ambitious sister. She knew I intended asking my father'sapproval, and from what she heard of him she feared he would neverconsent to my marrying a poor student, and she urged an immediateunion. But I persisted in writing to my father, who answeredimmediately, forbidding me to think of young Dunlap, ordering me to gohome, and saying he always intended me for John Castlewell, a neighborof ours--a millionaire--a _booby_--a _fool_--whom I hated as I didpoison. 

"Not long after the receipt of this letter I was surprised by thesudden appearance of Uncle Bertram, who had come at my father'srequest to take me home. This roused me at once. My father was atyrant, I said, and I would let him know I could do as I pleased. Inmy excitement, I fancied I could not exist a moment without RichardDunlap, while he declared that life would be a blank for him if passedaway from me. At this opportune moment Mrs. Le Vert suggested that webe married immediately--that very night. Uncle Bertram fortunately wasa clergyman, and could officiate as well as any other. In justice toRichard, I will say that he hesitated longer than I did--but he waspersuaded at last, as was Uncle Bertram, and with no other witnessthan Mrs. Le Vert and a white woman who lived with her as halfwaiting-maid and half companion, we were married. "

Rosamond was interested now, and forgetting to remove her dress, shethrew a crimson shawl around her shoulders, and sitting down upon thebed, exclaimed, "Married! You married! Why, then, are you calledPorter?"

"Listen and you shall know, " returned the lady, a dark look settlingdown upon her face. 

"Scarcely was the ceremony over, when I began to regret it--notbecause I disliked Richard, but because I dreaded my father'sdispleasure, for he had a most savage, revengeful temper, and hisdaughter possesses the same. " This was bitterly spoken, and shecontinued--"Hardly an hour after we were married, a negro brought aletter to Richard from an eccentric old man for whom he had beennamed. In it the old man said he had made his namesake his heir, provided he did not marry until he was _twenty-five_. 

"'I know just how _frillickin'_ you are, ' he wrote, 'and I know, too, how unsuitable and how unhappy most early marriages are--so my boy, ifyou want Sunnyside, wait till you are twenty-five before you take anextra rib. I hate to be bothered with letters, and if you don't answerthis, I shall conclude that you accept my terms. '"

"Mrs. Le Vert at once suggested that, as the old gentleman had alreadyhad two fits of apoplexy, and would undoubtedly soon have the third, our marriage should for a time be kept a secret. 

"But he didn't consent, " cried Rosamond. 

"Yes, he did, " answered Miss Porter, "and though I, too, said it wouldbe best, I began to distrust him from that moment--to think that hepreferred money to myself. Uncle Bertram promised secrecy and wentback alone, and then commenced a life of wretchedness, which makes meshudder even to recall it. With the exception of my own servant, whodared not tell if I bade her be silent, the blacks knew nothing of ourmarriage, and though we lived together as man and wife, so skillfullydid Mrs. Le Vert and Esther, her white domestic, manage the matter, that for a time our secret was safely kept. A few of the negroesdiscovered it ere I left, but as they always lived in that out-of-the-way place, it never followed me, and to this day no human being inFlorida, save Uncle Bertram knows of the marriage. 

"I am very impulsive, and the excitement being over, my affectionbegan to cool. Richard could have kept it alive had he tried, but hedid not. On the contrary he was much alone, and when with me wasalways tormenting me with conscientious scruples about deceiving 'theold man. '"

"Oh, I like him for that, " cried Rosamond, "I like him for that. Whydidn't you let him tell?"

"Because, " returned Miss Porter, "I had fears that father woulddisinherit _me_, and if Richard lost Sunnyside we should be poorindeed. "

A shadow passed over Rosamond's face, and she said involuntarily, "Icould be happy with Mr. Browning if we _were_ poor. "

Marie started and answered quickly, "What has _Mr. Browning_ to dowith my story?"

"Nothing, nothing, " returned Rosamond, "only I was thinking that ifyou loved Richard as well as I do Mr. Browning, you would not havecared for money. "

"But I didn't, " returned Marie. "I was mistaken. 'Twas a mere childishfancy. I never loved him. _I hate him now_. "

She spoke vehemently, and when Rosamond said mournfully. "Hate yourhusband!" she replied, "Yes, more than _hate_, or I had never come totell you this; but listen--from indifference we came to coldness--fromcoldness to recrimination--from that to harsh words--from harsh wordsto quarrels--and from quarrels to _blows_!"

She uttered the last word slowly, while Rosamond exclaimed, "Not_blows_, Miss Porter! No man would strike a woman. _I_ almost hatehim, now. "

The proud lip curled scornfully--a gleam of satisfaction shot from thekeen black eyes, and Marie went on. "He would say--nay does say _I_was the most to blame--that I aggravated him beyond human endurance--but he provoked me to it. Think of his swearing at me, Rosamond--calling me a _she-devil_ and all that. Think, too, of his telling meto my face that he was driven into the marriage wholly by his sister--that he regretted it more than I, and to crown all, think of his_boxing my ears!_--he, a poor, insignificant Northern _puppy_, boxing_me_--a Porter, and a Southern heiress!"

She was terribly excited, and Rosamond, gazing at her face, distortedwith malignant passion, began to fancy that the greater wrong mightperhaps have lain with her. 

After a moment's pause, Marie began again. "When we had been threemonths man and wife, he wrote to the old man, confessing his marriage, and saying sundry things not wholly complimentary to his bride; but Iintercepted it, read it, tore it up, and taunted him with it. Ibelieve I called him a low-lived Yankee, or something like that, andthen it was he struck me. The blow sunk deep into my soul. It was aninsult, an unpardonable insult, and could not be forgiven. My Southernblood was all on fire, and had I been a man, he should have paid forthat blow. I feel it yet; the smart has never for a moment left me, but burns upon my face just as hatred for him burns upon my heart!"

"Oh, Miss Porter, " cried Rosamond, as the former ground her teethtogether, "don't look so terribly. You frighten me. He struck you, buthe asked your pardon, sure?"

"Yes, he pretended to, but I spat at him and bade him leave meforever. His sister tried to interfere, but she made the matter worse, and as my father was on the eve of embarking for America, I determinedto go home, and when he came, tell him the whole and ask him to seeksatisfaction from one who had dared to strike his daughter. Richardmade a show of trying to keep me--said we had better live together, and all that, while his sister called us two silly children who neededwhipping. But I did not heed it. I went home to Uncle Bertram andwaited for my father, who never came. He died upon the sea, and I washeir of all his vast possessions. Then Richard made overtures forreconciliation, but I spurned them all. You've heard of _woman-haters, _ Rosamond--I am a _man-hater_. I loathe the whole sex, UncleBertram excepted. My marriage was of course a secret in Florida. Myservant, who knew of it, died soon after my father, and as UncleBertram kept his own counsel, more than one sought my hand, but Iturned my back upon them all. 

"Four or five years ago he wrote me a letter. He was then master ofSunnyside, for the old man left it to him after all. He was lonelythere, he said, and he asked a reconciliation. Had he never struck me, I might have gone, for his letter was kindly enough, but the blow wasa barrier between us, so I refused to listen, and exulted over thethought of his living there alone all his days, with the secret on hismind. 

"The sweetest morsel of all in the cup of revenge was, however, for atime withheld, but it came at last, Rosamond. It came at last. Heloved a beautiful young girl, loved her all the more that he could notmarry her. "

She drew nearer to Rosamond, who, though still unsuspecting, trembledfrom head to foot with an undefinable emotion of coming evil. 

"I saw her, Rosamond; saw this young girl with his name upon her lipswhen waking--saw her, too, with his name upon her lips when sleeping, and all this while she did not dream that I, the so-called MariePorter, was his wife, the barrier which kept him from saying the wordsher little heart longed so to hear. "

There were livid spots on Rosamond's neck--livid spots upon her face, and still she did not move from her seat, though her clammy handclutched nervously her bridal dress. A _horrid_ suspicion had flashedupon her, but with a mighty effort she threw it off as injustice toMr. Browning, and mentally crying, "It cannot be, " she faintlywhispered, "Go on. "

"The summer I met her, " said Miss Porter, I was at Cartersville, alittle out-of-the-way place on a lake--"

"You're telling me true?" interrupted Rosamond, joy thrilling in hertones. 

"Yes, true, " returned Miss Porter. 

"Then bless you--bless you for those last words, " rejoined Rosamond, burying her face in her companion's lap. "A terrible fear for a momentcame over me, that it might be _I_. But it isn't. _I_ met you at theSprings. Oh, if it had been me, I should most surely die. "

"But _she_ did not--the young girl, " resumed Miss Porter. "She had abrave, strong heart, and she bore up wondrously. She felt that he hadcruelly deceived her, and that helped her to bear the blow. Besides, she was glad she knew of it in time, for, had he married her, shewould not have been his wife, you know. "

Rosamond shuddered and replied, "I know, but my heart would havebroken all the same. It aches so now for her. But go on, how did shefind it out? Who could have strength to tell her?"

There was a pause, and each could hear the beating of the other'sheart. The November wind had risen within the last half hour, and nowhowled dismally past the window, seeming to Rosamond like the wailthat young girl must have uttered when she first learned how her trusthad been betrayed. _The clock struck four!_ Rosamond counted eachstroke, and thought, "One hour more, and _he_ will be here. " Mariecounted each stroke, and thought, "One hour more, and I must begone. "

"Rosamond, " she began again, "what I now have to confess is an act ofwhich I have repented bitterly, and never more than since I sat withinthis room. But it was not premeditated, and believe me, Rosamond, itwas not done for any malice I bore to that young girl, for I pitiedher so much--oh, so much, " and her hand wandered caressingly over thebright hair lying on her lap. 

"We went out one afternoon--two ladies, a gentleman, and myself--in asmall sail-boat upon the lake. _I_ planned the excursion and thought Ishould enjoy it, but we had not been out long when my old affection ofthe heart began to trouble me. I grew faint, and begged of them to putme on the land. They complied with my request, and set me down upon apoint higher up than that from which we had embarked, and near to adilapidated cabin where lived a weird old hag, who earned a scantylivelihood by fortune-telling. I told her I was sick, and sat down byher door where I could watch the movements of the party. Suddenly aterrific thunderstorm arose, the wind blew a hurricane, and though theboat rode the billows bravely for a time, it capsized at length, andits precious freight disappeared beneath the foaming waves. For amoment horror chilled my blood; then, swift as the lightning whichleaped from the cloud overhanging the graves of my late companions, amaddening thought flashed upon my mind. "

"But the girl--hasten to that part, " said Rosamond, lifting up herhead, while Miss Porter went back to her chair. 

"I shall come to her soon enough, " returned Miss Porter, continuingher story. "No living being, save the old woman at my side, knew of myescape, and I could bribe her easily. Fortunately I carried the mostof my money about my person, and I said to her, 'There are reasonswhy, for a time at least, I wish to be considered dead. Here aretwenty dollars now, and the same shall be paid you every month thatyou are silent. No human creature must know that I am living. ' I sawby the kindling of her eye at the sight of the gold that I was safe, and when the night shadows were falling I stole from her cabin, andtaking a circuitous route to avoid observation, I reached the midwaystation in time for the evening train. 

"Three days later in a distant city I read of the sad catastrophe--read that all had been found but one, a Miss Porter, from Florida, andas I read I thought '_he_ will see that, too. ' He did see it. Beforegoing to Carterville I sent to Sunnyside a girl who was under peculiarobligations to me, and one whom I could trust. She secured the place. She was employed at last about the person of that young girl, _who hadlived at Sunnyside since she was a child, a friendless orphan_. "

There was a quick, gasping moan as if the soul were parting from thebody, and Rosamond fell upon her face, which the pillows concealedfrom view, while Miss Porter hurriedly proceeded:

"There is but little more to tell. I wrote to the girl who took herown letters from the office. I told her all, and from her heard thatthe bridal day was fixed. The obstacle was removed--not_insanity_, but a _living wife_. Need I say more?"

She paused, but from the bed where the crushed, motionless figure lay, there came no sound, and she said again, "Speak, Rosamond. Curse me, if you will, for saving you from an unlawful marriage. "

Still there was no sound, save the low sighing of the wind, whichseemed to have taken a fresh note of sadness as if bewailing theunutterable desolation of the young girl, who lay so still andlifeless that Marie Porter's heart quickened with fear, and drawingnear, she touched the little hand resting on the pillow. It was cold--rigid--as was also the face which she turned to the light. 

"_It is death!_" she cried, and a wild shriek rang through the house, bringing at once the servants, headed by Mrs. Peters. 

"_What is it?_" cried the latter, as she saw the helpless figure andbeautiful upturned face. 

"_It's death, madam--death_, and it's coming on me, too, "answered Miss Porter, clasping her hands over her heart, whichthrobbed as it never had done before, and which at last prostrated herupon the lounge. 

But no one heeded her, save the girl Maria. The rest gave theirattention to Rosamond, who lay so long in the death-like stupor thatothers than Miss Porter believed her dead. 

_The clock struck five!_ and echoing from the Granby hills the engine-whistle came. Then a slight tremor ran through her frame, and Mrs. Peters whispered joyfully, "There's life--there's hope. "

Along the highway the returning traveler came with rapid tread, but'neath the sycamore no Rosamond was waiting. 

"She is hiding from me, " he said, but his search for her was vain, andhe rapidly hastened on. 

All about the house was still. There was no Rosamond at the door--norin the hall--nor in the parlor--nor on the stairs; but from herchamber came the buzz of voices, and he entered unannounced, recoilingbackward when he saw the face upon the pillow, and knew that it wasRosamond's. Every particle of color had left it; there were darkcircles beneath the eyes, and a look about the mouth as if theconcentrated agony of years had fallen suddenly upon her. 

"What is it?" he asked, and at the sound of his voice, the brown eyeshe had been wont to call so beautiful unclosed, but their sunnybrightness was all gone, and he shuddered at their dim, meaninglessexpression. 

She seemed to know him, and stretching her arm toward him as a childdoes toward its mother when danger threatens, she laid her head uponhis bosom with a piteous wail--the only really audible sound she hadyet uttered. 

"Rosamond, darling--what has come upon you?" he said, "and why are youin your bridal dress?"

At that word she started, and moving away from him, moaned sadly, "Itwas cruel--oh, so cruel to deceive me, when I loved and trusted him somuch. "

"Won't somebody tell me what this means?" he demanded, and Mrs. Petersreplied, "We do not know. There's been a strange woman here, and shewas with Rosamond when it happened. "

"Woman? What woman? And where is she now?" he asked, and Mrs. Petersreplied, "She was faint--dying, she said, and Maria took her intoanother chamber. "

Mechanically he started for that chamber--hearing nothing--seeingnothing--thinking nothing for the nameless terror which had fallenupon him. He did not suspect the real truth. He merely had a vaguepresentiment that some one who knew nothing of the drowning had comethere to save his Rosamond from what they supposed to be an unlawfulmarriage, and when at last he stood face to face with his living wife, when he knew the grave had given up its dead, he dropped to the flooras drops the giant oak when felled by the lightning's power!

Marie Porter, even had she been cruelly wronged, was avenged--fully, amply avenged, and covering her face with her hands, she moaned, "Ihave killed them both, and there's nothing left for me now but todie!"

CHAPTER XI. 

THE END

Over the horrid awakening which came to the wretched man, we need notlinger; neither is it necessary to dwell upon the first few days ofmystery and dread, when death seemed brooding over Riverside, andrumor was busy with surmises and suspicions concerning the stranger, and the relation, if any, which she bore to Rosamond Leyton. We willrather hasten on to the morning when to Mr. Browning the joyfultidings came that Rosamond was better--so much better, indeed, that hecould see and talk with her if he chose. 

Only once since the fearful night when he found her moaning in herbridal dress, had he stood by her bedside--for, though he longed to bethere, he could not endure to see her turn away from him, whisperingas she did so, "It was cruel--oh, so cruel to deceive me so. " Neitherhad he been near Marie Porter, consequently he knew nothing of themeans by which she had imposed upon him the story of her death. ButRosamond knew--Rosamond could tell him, and from no other lips wouldhe hear it. So, when he learned that she was better, he asked to seeher alone, and Mrs. Peters, to whom he had necessarily confided thestory of his marriage, carried his message to Rosamond. 

For a moment Rosamond did not seem to hear, but when the message wasrepeated, the great tears forced themselves from beneath her longeyelashes, and rolling down her cheeks, dropped upon the pillow. 

"He might have spared me this, " she said, " but if it is his wish, Ican see him. "

With a mighty effort she stilled the violent throbbings of her heart, forced an unnatural calm upon her face and whispered--"Let him comenow; I am ready. "

He was standing without the door, so near that he heard the words, andin a moment he was at her side. Falling upon his knees before her, heclasped her hands in his, imploring her forgiveness for the greatwrong he had done her in not telling her the truth at first. "But I aminnocent of the last, " he said; "believe me, Rosamond, I thought herdead, or I had never asked you to be my wife. I know not how shedeceived me so terribly, but you know, and I have sought thisinterview to hear the story from your own lips. Will you tell it tome, darling--Miss Leyton, I mean, " he added hastily, as he saw ashadow of pain flit over her face. 

"I will if I can, " she faintly answered, and summoning all herstrength, she repeated to him what Miss Porter had told her, except, indeed, the parts with which she knew he was familiar. 

"The plot was worthy of her who planned it, " he said bitterly; then, as Rosamond made no reply, he continued--"she told you, I suppose, ofour married life, and painted me the blackest villain that ever trodthe earth. This may in part be true, but, Rosamond, though I may neverknow the bliss of calling you my wife, I cannot be thus degraded inyour sight and offer no apology. I was a boy--a self-willed, high-tempered boy, nineteen years of age, and she aggravated me beyond allhuman endurance, seeking ways and means by which she could provoke me. I loved her at first--nay, do not turn away incredulously. Heaven ismy witness that I loved her, or thought I did, but 'twas a boyishlove, and not such as I feel for you, "

"You swore at her, " said Rosamond, unable to reconcile love with anoath. 

"Once--only once, " he replied. "I blush to own it, for it was not amanly act. "

"You struck her, " and for the first time since he had been in thatroom the brown eyes rested full upon his face. 

"Yes, Rosamond, " he answered; "I own that, too, but she goaded me tomadness, and even raised her voice against my sainted mother, who hadborne so dastardly a son as _I_!"

"And Riverside?" said Rosamond. "Did your uncle die deceived?"

"Never--never, " Mr. Browning exclaimed, starting to his feet. "I toldthe whole truth, or I would not have lived here a day. Rosamond, Ihave greatly sinned, but she has not been blameless. She insulted mein every possible way, even to giving _you_ her _wedding ring_, andthen, lest I should not see it, wrote to me 'to look upon yourfinger. ' No wonder you thought me mad!"

"Her _wedding ring_! Could she do that?" said Rosamond. 

"Yes, her wedding ring. It first belonged to Susan, who gave it to mefor the occasion, and two weeks after I had it marked with Marie'sname and the date of our marriage. It is broken now, and I would toHeaven I could thus easily break the tie which binds me to her, andkeeps me from you! Oh, Rosamond, Rosamond, must it be? Must I live mylife without you, when I need you so much--when my heart longs so toclaim you for its own?"

He covered his face with his hands, and Rosamond could see the tearsdropping slowly through his fingers. Terribly was he expiating the sinof his boyhood, and what wonder is it, if, in his agony, he cried, "Mypunishment is greater than I can bear!"

Rosamond alone was calm. She seemed to have wept her tears away, andthe blow which had fallen so crushingly upon her, had benumbed herheart, so that she now did not feel as acutely as the weeping manbefore her. Very soothingly she spoke to him, but she offered no wordof cheer--no hope that all would yet be well. "They would bear it withbrave hearts, " she said, "and he must be reconciled to his wife. "

"Never--never, " he exclaimed. "The same roof cannot shelter us both, and if she chooses to stay when she is better, she is welcome toRiverside, but I cannot share it with her. "

Neither said to the other, "It may be she will die, " for such athought had never intruded itself upon their minds, and yet MariePorter's life was numbered now by days. The heart disease, from whichshe had long been suffering, was greatly aggravated by the strongnervous excitement through which she had recently been passing. Stimulants of a most powerful kind had created a kind of artificialstrength, which had enabled her to come to Riverside, but this wasfast subsiding; and when she bent over the motionless form ofRosamond, and feared that she was dead, she felt, indeed, that deathwould ere long claim her as his own. The sight of her husband, too, had well nigh been more than she could bear. For nearly nine longyears she had not looked upon his face, but she remembered it well--ahandsome, boyish face. His hair, she remembered, too--his soft, dark, wavy hair, through which her fingers had sometimes strayed, in the farback days at Holly Wood, before she was his bride. He would not begreatly changed, she thought; and when, on that fatal night, she heardhis coming footsteps, she pictured him in her mind much as he was thatwinter-day, when, standing in his sister's door, he bade her a longgood-by. Nearer and nearer he had come--faster and louder had beatenher heart, while a cold, faint sickness crept over her. 

"Open the window--I cannot breathe, " she gasped; but ere her requestwas obeyed, Ralph Browning had fainted on the threshold, and she hadasked that she might die. 

She had seen him only for an instant, but that sufficed to tell her hewas changed from the dark-haired, handsome boy, into the gray-hairedsuffering man. His eyes had met hers, but the fierce hatred sheexpected, was not there; and the look of utter hopeless despair whichshe saw in its place, touched her as reproach and resentment could nothave done. 

"Oh, I hope I shall die, " she said, as she hid her face in the pillow. "I hope I shall die. "

This wish she uttered every hour; and when, at last, the physiciansaid to her, "Madam, you _will_ die, " she answered, "It is well!"

She did not ask for Mr. Browning, for she knew he would not come, butshe inquired anxiously each day for Rosamond; and when, at last, sheheard they were together, she laid her hand upon her heart, andwatching its rise and fall, smiled to think how fast her life wasgoing out. 

"Listen, Maria, " she said, "Listen to what they say, and hear if theytalk of me. "

Noiselessly Maria glided to the door of Rosamond's chamber--stoodthere for a moment and then as noiselessly came back repeating to hermistress the substance of what she had heard, together with sundrylittle embellishments of her own. 

"He will give you Riverside and go away himself, " she said, and MissPorter quickly rejoined, "Go where? Go with whom?"

"With Miss Leyton of course, " returned Maria. "He said he would notlive without her. "

"The wretch!" ejaculated the angry woman, all her softer emotionsgiving way to this fancied insult. "He might at least wait now untilI'm dead. I'll go to him myself, and see if in my presence he daretalk thus to her. "

She was greatly excited, and in spite of the painful throbbings of herheart and the dizzy sensation she felt stealing over her, she steppedupon the floor, and hurriedly crossed the room. The effort was toomuch for her feeble strength, and she sank fainting upon a chair. Thegirl Maria had seen her faint before, but never before had she seen sofearful a look upon her face, and she ran in terror to Mr. Browning, beseeching him to come "for her mistress was dying sure, and wouldtrouble nobody much more. "

For a moment he hesitated, but when Rosamond said, "Go, " he went. Taking the fainting woman in his arms he laid her upon the bed asgently, though not as tenderly as he would have laid his Rosamondthere. 

"Call Mrs. Peters, " he said, and when that matron came, he bade hergive to the invalid every possible care. 

Slowly Miss Porter came back to life, but it was only to faint again, and with each fainting fit it became more and more apparent that lifewas ebbing fast. They did not say to Rosamond that she would die, butthey told it to Mr. Browning, who heard as one who hears not. Everyother sensation seemed to have given place to a feeling of horror, andwhen at the close of the second day word came to him that she _wasdying_, and had asked to see him, he arose mechanically and walked toher sick room as calmly as he had visited it the previous night, whenhe knew she was asleep. One glance, however, at her white face andwild bright eyes roused him to the reality, and bending over herpillow, he forced himself to take her hand in his, saying kindly, "Marie, do you know me?"

"Know you? Yes, " she answered. "You are my husband--my husband. " Shelingered upon that name as if its sound recalled to life some oldenfeeling--some memory of Holly Wood, where they first had met. 

"Marie, you are dying, " he continued. "Shall we part in anger, or inpeace?"

"In peace, if you will, " she answered. "I have had my revenge--but itis _not_ sweet as some say it is. I would rather, Ralph, that I hadnever known you, for then I should not have been the wicked wretch Iam. "

Mr. Browning did not reply to this, and for a few moments there wassilence, during which she seemed to sleep. Rousing up ere long, shegasped for breath, and grasping nervously her husband's hand, shewhispered, "I am going now--there's no sham this time--five minutesmore, and you are free to marry Rosamond. Be kind to her, Ralph. Dealwith her not as you dealt with me, and--and--come closer to me, Ralph. Let me whisper this last so as no one can hear. "

He bent him down to listen, and summoning all her strength, she said, not in a whisper, but in tones which echoed through the silent room--"NEVER, NEVER STRIKE ROSAMOND, WILL YOU?"

................................................. 

Rapidly the story circulated that the strange woman who lay dead atRiverside had been Ralph Browning's wife, and hundreds flocked to thefuneral, hoping to gain a view of the deceased. But in this they weredisappointed, for there was nothing visible, save the handsome coffin, on whose silver plate was inscribed the word "MARIE. "

Some said that "Browning" might have been added to the name, and whileothers marvelled that the husband wore no badge of mourning, a fewsaid wisely that the _mourning_ was visible in other than the usualsigns--in the hair gray before its time, and in the deep-cut lineswhich a _living_ sorrow alone had made. And so, amid surmises of thepast and foretellings of the future, the ill-fated Marie was laid inthe village vault, until word could be received from her old uncle, who might wish to have her rest among the balmy groves and fragrantflowers of her beautiful Florida home. 

And now our story winds to its close. Ralph Browning was free indeed, but death had been at Riverside, and the shadow it had left mustdisappear ere he took to himself a second bride. Rosamond, too, mustrecover from the blow which had fallen so crushingly on her--mustlearn to confide again in the man she loved--to think of the greatwrong he had done her as the result of an early, boyish error, whichhe regretted even more bitterly than herself. 

And so the warm spring rains had fallen and the April blossoms werebursting from the dark, moist earth ere the wedding morning came. Atthe bridal there was no satin dress--no orange wreath--no flowingveil--but there was perfect love shining in the beautiful brown eyesof the girlish bride, while the fine face of the bridegroom wore alook of perfect happiness, as if the past were all forgotten, and theworld was bright and new. Europe was still their destination, andamong those who accompanied them to New York, going with them even tothe vessel's deck, none bade them a more affectionate adieu than Mrs. Van Vechten herself. She had spent a part of the winter at Riverside, and had learned to appreciate the gentle girl who she knew was to beher brother's wife. 

Ben, too, was of the party. He had listened in amazement to the storyof his uncle's first marriage, wondering how it could have been keptfrom him, and remembering several little incidents, the meaning ofwhich he now understood. He had given up the Crimean war, as well asthe dancing girl, and now he had given up Rosamond, too, but he boreit quite heroically, and ever after took especial pains to speak ofher as "My Aunt Rosamond. " For more than a year the bridal pairremained abroad, and then returned again to Riverside, where now thepatter of tiny feet, and the voice of childhood is heard, for childrenhave gathered around the hearthstone, and in all the world there isnot a prouder, happier wife and mother than the little Rosamond whoonce on a dreary November day listened, with a breaking heart, to thestory of Ralph Browning's Youthful Error. 

DIAMONDS. 

"The boys mustn't look at the girls, and the girls must look on theirbooks, " was said at least a dozen times by the village school-master, on that stormy morning when Cora Blanchard and I--she in her brother'sboots, and I in my father's socks--waded through drift after drift ofsnow to the old brown school-house at the foot of the long, steephill. 

We were the only girls who had dared to brave that wintry storm, andwe felt amply repaid for our trouble, when we saw how much attentionwe received from the ten tall boys who had come--some for fun--somebecause they saw Cora Blanchard go by--and one, Walter Beaumont, because he did not wish to lose the lesson of the day. Our teacher, Mr. Grannis, was fitting him for college, and every moment wasprecious to the white-browed, intellectual student, who was quite alion among us girls, partly because he was older, and partly becausehe never noticed us as much as did the other boys. On this occasion, however, he was quite attentive to Cora, at least, pulling off herboots, removing her hood, and brushing the large snow-flakes from hersoft wavy hair, while her dark brown eyes smiled gratefully upon him, as he gave her his warm seat by the stove. 

That morning Cora wrote to me slyly on her slate: "I don't care ifmother _does_ say Walter Beaumont is _poor_ as _poverty_--I like himbest of anybody in the world--don't you?"

I thought of the big red apple in my pocket, and of the boy who had socarefully shaken the snow from off my father's socks, and answered, "No"--thinking, the while, that I should say _yes_, if Walter had evertreated me as he did my playmate and friend Cora Blanchard. She was abeautiful young girl, a favorite with all, and possessing, as itseemed, but one glaring fault--a proneness to estimate people fortheir wealth rather than their worth. This in a measure was the resultof her home-training, for her family, though far from being rich, werevery aristocratic, and strove to keep their children as much aspossible from associating with the "vulgar herd, " as they styled thelaboring class of the community. In her secret heart Cora had longcherished a preference for Walter, though never, until the morning ofwhich I write, had it been so openly avowed. And Walter, too, whileknowing how far above him she was in point of position, had dared todream of a time when a bright-haired woman, with a face much like thatof the girlish Cora, would gladden his home, wherever it might be. 

That noon, as we sat around the glowing stove, we played as childrenwill, and it came my turn to "answer truly whom I intended to marry. "Without a thought of the big apple, the snowy socks, or of any one inparticular, I replied unhesitatingly--"The one I love best, " and thequestion passed on to Cora, who was sitting by the side of WalterBeaumont. He had not joined in our sport, but now his eye left hisbook and rested upon Cora with an expression half fearful, halfexpectant. She, too, glanced at him, and as if the spirit of prophecywere upon her, she said--"I shall not marry the one I love the best, but the one who has the most money, and can give me the handsomest_diamonds_. Sister Fanny has a magnificent set, and she looks sobeautifully when she wears them. "

Instantly there fell a shadow on Walter Beaumont's face, and his eyereturned again to the Latin lettered page. But his thoughts were notof what was written there; he was thinking of the humble cottage onthe borders of the wood, of the rag-carpet on the oaken floor, of theplain old-fashioned furniture, and of the gentle, loving woman whocalled him "her boy, " and that spot her home. There were no _diamonds_there--no money--and Cora, if for these she married, would never behis wife. Early and late he toiled and studied, wearing his threadbarecoat and coarse brown pants--for an education, such as he must have, admitted of no useless expenditure, and the costly gems which Coracraved were not his to give. In the pure, unselfish love springing upfor her within his heart, there were diamonds of imperishable value, and these, together with the name he would make for himself, he wouldoffer her, but nothing more, and for many weeks there was a shadow onhis brow, though he was kind and considerate to her as of old. 

As the spring and summer glided by, however, there came a change, andwhen, in the autumn, he left our village for New Haven, there was ahappy, joyous look upon his face, while a tress of Cora's silken hairwas lying next his heart. Every week he wrote to her, and Coraanswered, always showing to me what she had written, but never a wordof his. "There was too much love, " she said, "too much good advice inhis letters for me to see, " and thus the time passed on, until Walter, who had entered the junior class, was graduated with honor, and wasabout to commence a theological course at Andover, for he had made theministry his choice. He was twenty-one now, and Cora was sixteen. Wondrously beautiful was she to look upon, with her fair young face, her soft brown eyes, and wavy hair. And Walter Beaumont loved herdevotedly, believing too, that she in turn loved him, for one summerafternoon, in the green old woods which skirted the little village, she had sat by his side, and with the sunbeams glancing down upon herthrough the overhanging boughs, she had, told him so, and promisedsome day to be his wife. Still, she would not hear of a positiveengagement--both should be free to change their mind if they wished, she said, and with this Walter was satisfied. 

"I have no _diamonds_ to give you, darling, " he said, drawing herclose to him; and Cora, knowing to what he referred, answered that"_his_ love was dearer to her than all the world besides. " Alas, thatwoman should be so fickle!

The same train which carried Walter away, brought Mrs. Blanehard aletter from her daughter, a dashing, fashionable woman, who lived inthe city, and who wished to bring her sister Cora "out" the comingwinter. "She is old enough, now, " she wrote, "to be looking for ahusband, and of course she'll never do anything in that by-place. "

This proposition, which accorded exactly with Mrs. Blanchard's wishes, was joyfully acceded to by Cora, who, while anticipating the pleasurewhich awaited her, had yet no thought of proving false to Walter, andin the letter which she wrote informing him of her plan, she ensuredhim of her unchanging fidelity, little dreaming that the promise thusmade would so soon be broken! Petted, caressed, flattered and admired, as she was in the circle of her sister's friends, how could she helpgrowing worldly and vain, or avoid contrasting the plain, unassumingWalter, with the polished and gayly-dressed butterflies who throngedMrs. Burton's drawing-room. When the summer came again, she did notreturn to us as we had expected, but we heard of her at Saratoga, andNewport, the admired of all admirers; while one, it was said, a man ofhigh position and untold wealth, bid fair to win the beauteous belle. Meantime, her letters to Walter grew short and far between, ceasing atlength altogether; and one day, during the second winter of herresidence in the city, I received from her a package containing hisminiature, the books he had given her, and the letters he had written. These she wished me to give him when next I saw him, bidding me tellhim to think no more of one who was not worthy of him. 

"To be plain, Lottie, " she wrote, "I'm engaged, and though Mr. Douglass is not a bit like Walter, he has a great deal of money, drives splendid horses, and I reckon we shall get on well enough. Iwish, though, he was not quite so old. You'll be shocked to hear thathe is almost _fifty_, though he looks about _forty!_ I know I don'tlike him as well as I did Walter, but after seeing as much of theworld as I have, I could not settle down into the wife of a poorminister. I am not good enough, and you must tell him so. I hope hewon't feel badly--poor Walter. I've kept the lock of his hair. Icouldn't part with that, but, of course, Mr. Douglass will never seeit. _His_ hair is gray! Good-by. "

This was what she wrote, and when I heard from her again, she was CoraDouglass, and her feet were treading the shores of the old world, whither she had gone on a bridal tour. 

In the solitude of his chamber, the young student learned the sad newsfrom a paragraph in a city paper, and bowing his head upon the table, he strove to articulate, "It is well, " but the flesh was weak, warringwith the spirit, and the heart which Cora Blanchard had cruellytrampled down, clung to her still with a death-like fondness, andfollowed her even across the waste of waters, cried out--"How can Igive her up!" But when he remembered, as he ere long did, that 'twas asin to love her now, he buried his face in his hands, and, calling onGod to help him in this his hour of need, wept such tears as neveragain would fall for Cora Blanchard. 

The roses in our garden were faded, and the leaves of autumn werepiled upon the ground, ere he came to his home again, and I had anopportunity of presenting him with the package which many monthsbefore had been committed to my care. His face was very pale, and hisvoice trembled as he asked me--"Where is she now?"

"In Italy, " I answered, adding that "her husband was said to be verywealthy. "

Bowing mechanically, he walked away, and a year and a half went by ereI saw him again. Then he came among us as our minister. The old, white-haired pastor, who for so long had told us of the Good Shepherdand the better land, was sleeping at last in the quiet graveyard, andthe people had chosen young Walter Beaumont to fill his place. He wasa splendid-looking man--tall, erect, and finely formed, with a mostwinning manner, and a face which betokened intellect of the highestorder. We were proud of him, all of us--proud of our clergyman, who, on the third Sabbath in June, was to be ordained in the old brickchurch, before whose altar he had years ago been baptized, a smilinginfant. 

On the Thursday afternoon preceding the ordination, a large travelingcarriage, covered with dust and laden with trunks, passed slowlythrough our village, attracting much attention. Seated within it was aportly, gray-haired man, resting his chin upon a gold-headed cane, andlooking curiously out at the people in the street, who stared ascuriously at him. Directly opposite him, and languidly reclining uponthe soft cushions, was a white, proud-faced lady, who evidently feltno interest in what was passing around her, for her eyes were castdown, and her thought seemed busy elsewhere. I was sitting at mychamber window, gazing out upon them, and just as they drew near thegate, the lady raised her eyes--the soft, brown eyes, which once hadwon the love of Walter Beaumont, and in which there was now anunmistakable look of anguish, as if the long eyelashes, drooping sowearily upon the colorless cheek, were constantly forcing back thehidden tears. And this was Cora Douglass, come back to us again fromher travels in a foreign land. She knew me in a moment, and in herface there was much of her olden look as, bending forward, she smileda greeting, and waved toward me her white, jeweled hand, on which the_diamonds_ flashed brightly in the sunlight. 

The next morning we met, but not in the presence of the old man, herhusband. Down in the leafy woods, about a quarter of a mile from Mrs. Beaumont's cottage, was a running brook and a mossy bank, overshadowedby the sycamore and elm. This, in the days gone by, had been ourfavorite resort. Here had we built our play-house, washing our bits ofbroken china in the rippling stream--here had we watched the littlefishes as they darted in and out of the deeper eddies--here had weconned our daily tasks--here had she listened to a tale of love, thememory of which seemed but a mocking dream, and here, as I faintlyhoped, I found her. With a half-joyful, half-moaning cry, she threwher arms around my neck, and I could feel her tears dropping upon myface as she whispered, "Oh, Lottie, Lottie, we have met again by thedear old brook. "

For a few moments she sobbed as if her heart would break, thensuddenly drying her tears, she assumed a calm, cold, dignified manner, such as I had never seen in Cora Blanchard. Very composedly shequestioned me of what I had done during her absence, telling me, too, of her travels, of the people she had seen and the places she hadvisited, but never a word said she of him she called her husband. Fromthe bank where we sat, the village grave-yard was discernible, withits marble gleaming through the trees, and at last, as her eyewandered in that direction, she said, "Have any of our villagers died?Mother's letters were never very definite. "

"Yes, " I answered, "Our minister, Mr. Sumner, died two months ago. "

"Who takes his place?" she asked; and, as if a suspicion of the truthwere flashing upon her, her eyes turned toward me with an eager, startled glance. 

"Walter Beaumont. He is to be ordained next Sabbath, and you are justin time, " I replied, regretting my words the next instant, for neversaw I so fearful a look of anguish as that which swept over her face, and was succeeded by a cold, hard, defiant expression, scarcely lesspainful to witness. 

She would have questioned me of him, I think, had not an approachingfootstep caught our ear, sending a crimson flush to Cora's hithertomarble cheek, and producing on me a most unpleasant sensation, for Iknew that the gray-haired man now within a few paces of us, was he whocalled that young creature _his wife. _ _Golden_ was the chain by whichhe had bound her, and every link was set with diamonds and costlystones, but it had rusted and eaten to her very heart's core, for themost precious gem of all was missing from that chain--love for herhusband, who, fortunately for his own peace of mind, was too conceitedto dream how little she cared for him. He was not handsome, and stillmany would have called him a fine-looking, middle-aged man, thoughthere was something disagreeable in his thin, compressed lips andintensely black eyes--the one betokening a violent temper, and theother an indomitable will. To me he was exceedingly polite--rather toomuch so for my perfect ease, while toward Cora he tried to be veryaffectionate. 

Seating himself at her side, and throwing his arm around her, hecalled her a "little truant, " and "why she had run away from him. "

Half pettishly she answered, "Because i like sometimes to be alone, "then, rising up and turning toward me she asked if "the water stillran over the, old mill dam in the west woods just as it used to do, "Saying if it did, she wished to see it. "You can't go, " she continued, addressing her husband, "for it is more than a mile, over fences andplowed fields. "

This was sufficient, for Mr. Douglass was very fastidious in allmatters pertaining to his dress, and had no fancy for soiling hiswhite pants, or patent leathers. So Cora and I set off together, whilehe walked slowly back to the village. Scarcely was he out of sight, however, when, seating herself beneath a tree, and throwing herselfflat upon the ground, Cora announced her intention of not going anyfurther. 

"I only wished to be alone. I _breathe_ so much better, " she said, andwhen I looked inquiringly at her, she continued, "Never marry a manfor his wealth, Lottie, unless you wish to become as hard, as wickedand unhappy as I am. John Douglass is worth more than half a million, and yet I would give it all if I were the same little girl who, sixyears ago, waded with you through the snow-drifts to school on thatstormy day. Do you remember what we played that noon and my foolishremark that I would marry for _money_ and _diamonds!_ Woe is me, I'vewon them both!" and her tears fell fast on the sparkling gems whichcovered her slender fingers. 

Just then I saw in the distance a young man whom I knew to be WalterBeaumont. He seemed to be approaching us, and when Cora became awareof that, she started up and grasping my arm, hurried away, saying, asshe cast backward a fearful glance, "I would rather die than meet himnow. I am not prepared. "

For the remainder of the way we walked on in silence, until we reachedher mother's gate, where we found her husband waiting for her. Biddingme good morning she followed him slowly up the graveled walk and I sawher no more until the following Sabbath. It was a gloriously beautifulmorning, and at an early hour the old brick church was filled tooverflowing, for Walter had many friends, and they came togethergladly to see him made a minister of God. During the first part of theservice he was very pale, and his eye wandered often toward the large, square pew where sat a portly man and a beautiful young woman, richlyattired in satin and jewels. It had cost her a struggle to be there, but she felt that she must look again on one whom she had loved somuch and so deeply wronged. So she came, and the sight of him standingthere in his early manhood, his soft brown hair clustering about hisbrow, and his calm, pale face wearing an expression almost angelic, was more than she could bear, and leaning forward she kept hercountenance concealed from view until the ceremony was ended, andWalter's clear, musical voice announced the closing hymn. Then sheraised her head, and her face, seen through the folds of her costlyveil, looked haggard and ghastly, as if a fierce storm of passion hadswept over her. By the door she paused, and when the newly-ordainedclergyman passed out, she offered him her hand, the hand which, whenhe held it last, was pledged to him, There were _diamonds_ on it now--diamonds of value rare, but their brightness was hateful to thatwretched woman, for she knew at what a fearful price they had beenbought. 

They did not meet again, and only once more did Walter see her; then, from our door, he looked out upon her as with her husband she dashedby on horseback, her long cloth skirt almost sweeping the ground, andthe plumes of her velvet cap waving in the air. 

"Mrs. Douglass is a fine rider, " was all Walter said, and the tone ofhis voice indicated that she was becoming to him an object ofindifference. Desperately had he fought with his affection for her, winning the victory at last, and now the love he once had felt for herwas slowly and surely dying out, The next week, tiring of our dullvillage life, Cora left us, going to Nahant, where she spent most ofthe summer, and when in the winter we heard from her again, she was awidow--the sole heir of her husband who had died suddenly, andgenerously left her that for which she married him--his money, "Will Walter Beaumont marry Cora now?" I had asked myself many a time, without, however, arriving at any definite conclusion, when a littlemore than a year succeeding Mr. Douglass's death, she wrote, beggingme to come to her, as she was very lonely, and the presence of an oldfriend would do her good. I complied with her request, and within afew days was an inmate of her luxurious home, where everythingindicated the wealth of its possessor. And Cora, though robed indeepest black, was more like herself, more like the Cora of otherdays, than I had seen her before since her marriage. Of her husbandshe spoke freely and always with respect, saying he had been kinderfar to her than she had deserved. Of Walter, too, she talked, appearing much gratified when I told her how he was loved andappreciated by his people. 

One morning when we sat together in her little sewing room, she said, "I have done what you perhaps, will consider a very unwomanly act. Ihave written to Walter Beaumont. Look, " and she placed in my hand aletter, which she bade me read. It was a wild, strange thing, tellinghim of the anguish she had endured, of the tears she had shed, of thelove which through all she had cherished for him, and begging him toforgive her if possible, and be to her again what he had been yearsago. She was not worthy of him, she said, but he could make herbetter, and in language the most touching, she besought of him not tocast her off, or despise her because she had stepped so far aside fromwomanly delicacy as to write to him this letter. "I will not insultyou, " she wrote in conclusion, "by telling you of the _money_ forwhich I sold myself, but it is mine now, lawfully mine, and mostgladly would I share it with you. "

"You will not send him this?" I said. "You cannot be in earnest?"

But she was determined, and lest her resolution should give way, sherang the bell, ordering the servant who appeared to take it at once tothe office. He obeyed, and during the day she was unusually gay, singing snatches of old songs, and playing several lively airs uponher piano, which for months had stood unopened and untouched. Thatevening, as the sun went down, and the full moon rose over the city, she asked me to walk with her, and we, ere long, found ourselvesseveral streets distant from that in which she lived. Groups of peoplewere entering a church near by, and from a remark which we overheard, we learned that there was to be a wedding. 

"Let us go in, " she said, "it may be some one I know, " and enteringtogether, we took our seats just in front of the altar. 

Scarcely were we seated when a rustling of satin announced theapproach of the bridal party, and in a moment they appeared movingslowly up the aisle. My first attention was directed toward the bride, a beautiful young creature, with a fair sweet face, and curls ofgolden hair falling over her white, uncovered neck. 

"Isn't she lovely?" I whispered; but Cora did not hear me. 

With her hands locked tightly together, her lips firmly compressed, and her cheeks of an ashen hue, she was gazing fixedly at thebridegroom, on whom I, too, now looked, starting quickly, for it wasour minister, Walter Beaumont! The words were few which made them one, Walter and the young girl at his side, and when the ceremony was over, Cora arose, and leaning heavily upon my arm, went out into the openair, and on through street after street, until her home was reached. Then, without a word, we parted--I going to my room, while she, through the live-long night, paced up and down the long parlors whereno eye could witness the working of the mighty sorrow which had comeupon her. 

The next morning she was calm, but very, very pale, saying not a wordof last night's adventure. Neither did she speak of it for severaldays, and then she said, rather abruptly, "I would give all I possessif I had never sent that letter. The mortification is harder to beareven than Walter's loss. But he will not tell of it, I'm sure. He istoo good--too noble, " and tears, the first she had shed since thatnight, rained through her thin, white fingers. It came at last--aletter bearing Walter's superscription, and with trembling hands sheopened it, finding, as she had expected, his wedding card, while on atiny sheet was written, "God pity you, Cora, even as I do. --WALTER. "

"Walter! Walter!" she whispered, and her quivering lips touched oncethe loved name which she was never heard to breathe again. 

Prom that day Cora Douglass faded, and when the autumnal days werecome, and the distant hills were bathed in the hazy October light, shedied. But not in the noisy city, for she had asked to be taken home, and in the pleasant room where we had often sat together, she bade meher last good-by. They buried her on the Sabbath, and Walter's voicewas sad and low as with Cora's coffin at his feet he preached from thewords, "I am the Resurrection and the Life. " His young wife, too, weptover the early dead, who had well nigh been her rival, and whosebeautiful lace wore a calm, peaceful smile, as if she were at rest. 

There was a will, they said; and in it Walter was generouslyremembered, while to his wife was given an ivory box, containingCora's _diamonds_--necklace, bracelets, pin and ear-rings--all werethere; and Walter, as he looked upon them, drew nearer to him hisfair girl-wife, who but for these, might not, perchance, have been tohim what she was--his dearest earthly treasure. 

BAD SPELLING

The last notes of the bell which duly summoned to their task thepupils of Madame Duvant's fashionable seminary had ceased, and in theschool-room, recently so silent, was heard the low hum of voices, interspersed occasionally with a suppressed titter from some girl moremischievous than her companions. Very complacently Madame Duvantlooked over the group of young faces, mentally estimating the probablegain she should receive from each, for this was the first day of theterm, then with a few low-spoken words to the row of careworn, pale-faced teachers, she smoothed down the folds of her heavy gray satinand left the room, just as a handsome traveling-carriage stoppedbefore the door. 

The new arrival proved to be a fashionably-dressed woman, who, with anair of extreme hauteur, swept into the parlor, followed by two younggirls, one apparently sixteen and the other fourteen years of age. Theyounger and, as some would call her, the plainer looking of the two, was unmistakably a "poor relation, " for her face bore the meek, patient look of a dependent, while the proud black eyes and scornfullycurved lip of the other, marked her as the daughter of the lady, who, after glancing about the room and satisfying herself that the chairs, tables, and so forth, were _refined_, gave her name as "Mrs. Greenleaf, wife of the Hon. Mr. Greenleaf, of Herkimer county, N. Y. "

"I have come, " said she, apparently speaking to Madame Duvant, butlooking straight at the window, "I've come to place my daughterArabella under your charge, and if she is pleased with yourdiscipline, she will finish her education here--graduate--though Icare but little for that, except that it sounds well. She is our onlychild, and, of course, a thorough education in the lower Englishbranches is not at all necessary. I wish her to be highly accomplishedin French, Italian, music, drawing, painting, dancing, and, perhaps, learn something of the old poets, so as to be able to talk about thema little, if necessary, but as for the other branches, such asgeography, history, arithmetic, grammar, and the like, she can learnthem by herself, and it is not my wish that she should waste her timeover any thing so common. These will do for Mildred, " and she glancedtoward the _poor relation_, whose eyes were bent upon the carpet. 

"She is the child of my husband's sister, and we have concluded toeducate her for a teacher, so I wish, you to be very thorough with herin all those stupid things which Arabella is not to study. "

Madame Duvant bowed, and Mrs. Greenleaf continued, "Last term theywere at Bloomington Seminary, and, if you'll believe it, the principalinsisted upon putting Arabella into the spelling-class, just becauseshe didn't chance to spell every word of her first compositioncorrectly! I dare say it was more Mildred's fault than hers, for sheacknowledged to me that 'twas one of Mildred's old pieces that shefound and copied. "

An angry flash of Arabella's large black eyes, and a bright red spoton Mildred's cheek, were the only emotions manifested by the younggirls, and Mrs. Greenfield proceeded: "Of course, I wouldn't submit toit--my daughter spelling _baker_, and all that nonsense, so I took heraway at once. It was my wish that Mildred should remain, but husband, who is peculiar, wouldn't hear of it, and said she should go whereArabella did, so I've brought them both. "

After little further conversation, it was arranged that Miss Arabellashould go through a course of merely fashionable accomplishments, Madame Duvant assuring her mother that neither spelling-book nordictionary should in any way annoy her. Mildred, on the contrary, wasto be thoroughly drilled in every thing necessary for a teacher toknow, Mrs. Greenleaf hinting that the sooner her education wascompleted the better she would be pleased, for it cost a great deal toclothe, feed and school her. Madame Duvant promised to execute thewishes of her patron, who gathered up her flowing robes, and with adozen or more kisses for her daughter, and a nod of her head forMildred, stepped into her carriage and was driven rapidly away. 

Just across the spacious grounds of the Duvant Seminary, and dividedfrom them by a wall which it seemed almost impossible to scale, stooda huge stone building, whose hacked walls, bare floors and dingywindows--from which were frequently suspended a cap, a pair oftrousers, or a boy's leg--stamped it at once as "The College, " theveriest pest in the world, as Madame Duvant called it, when, with allthe vigilance both of herself and Argus-eyed teachers, she failed tokeep her young ladies from making the acquaintance of the students, who winked at them in church, bowed to them in the streets, tied notesto stones and threw them over the ponderous wall, while the girlswaved their handkerchiefs from their windows, and in various otherways eluded the watchfulness of their teachers. A great acquisition tothe fun-loving members of the seminary was Arabella Greenleaf, and shehad scarcely been there six weeks ere she was perfectly wellacquainted with every student whom she considered at all worthknowing. But upon only one were her brightest glances and her mostwinsome smiles lavished, and that was George Clayton, a young man fromSouth Carolina, who was said to be very wealthy. He was too honorableto join in the intrigues of his companions, and when at last he becameattracted by the witching eyes and dashing manners of ArabellaGreenleaf, he went boldly to Madame Duvant and asked permission to seethe young lady in the parlor. 

His request was granted, and during the two years he remained atcollege, he continued occasionally to call upon Arabella, who, eachtime that he saw her, seemed more pleasing, for she was beautiful, andwhen she chose to be so was very courteous and agreeable. One eveningwhen George called as usual and asked to see her, he waited a longtime, and was about making up his mind to leave, when a fair, delicatelooking girl, with deep blue eyes and auburn hair, entered the room, introducing herself as _Miss Graham_, the cousin of Arabella, who, shesaid, was indisposed and unable to come down. 

"She bade me say that she was very sorry not to see you, " addedMildred, for she it was, blushing deeply as she met the eager, admiring eye of George Clayton. 

Gladly would he have detained her, but with a polite good evening, sheleft him in a perfect state of bewilderment. "Strange that I neverobserved her before, for I must have seen her often, " he thought, ashe slowly wended his way back to his rooms, "and stranger still thatArabella never told me she had a cousin here. "

The next time he met Arabella his first inquiry was for her cousin, and why she had never mentioned her. With a heightened color Arabellaanswered, "Oh, she's a little body, who never cares to be known--aperfect bookworm and man-hater. "

The words bookworm and man-hater produced upon George Clayton a fardifferent effect from what Arabella had intended, and he often foundhimself thinking of the soft blue eyes of Mildred Graham. Unlike somemen, there was nothing terrible to him in a bookish woman, and hemight, perhaps, have sought another interview with Mildred, but for acircumstance which threw her entirely in the shade. 

The annual examination of Madame Duvant's seminary was drawing near. Arabella was to graduate, while both she and Mildred were competitorsfor a prize offered for the best composition. There was a look ofwonder on Mildred's face, when she saw her cousin's name among thelist, for composition was something in which Arabella did not excel. Greatly then did Mildred marvel when day after day she found her, pencil in hand, and apparently lost in thought, as she filled onesheet after another, until at last it was done. 

"Now, Milly, " said Arabella, "You correct the spelling and copy it forme--that's a good girl. "

Mildred had acted in this capacity too often to refuse, and with amartyr's patience, she corrected and copied the manuscript, wonderingthe while from whence came the sudden inspiration which had sobrightened Arabella's ideas. But if she had any suspicions of thetruth, she kept them to herself, handing her own composition in withthat of her cousin, and calmly waiting the result. 

The examination was over. Arabella, who knew exactly what questionswould be put to her, had acquitted herself with great credit, and herproud lady mother, who was one of the numerous visitors, fannedherself complacently as she heard on all sides the praises of herdaughter. 

And now nothing remained but the evening exhibition, at which musicand the prize compositions formed the chief entertainment. At an earlyhour the large school-rooms were densely crowded. Among the first whocame was George Clayton--securing a seat as near as possible to thestage, so that he should not lose a single word. He himself hadgraduated but two weeks previously, and was now about to make the tourof Europe together with his father, who was present. They were to sailthe next night, and at nine o'clock this evening they were to leavefor New York. During the examination Arabella had risen greatly inGeorge's estimation, and if she had seemed beautiful to him then, shewas tenfold more so now, when, with flowing curls and simple whitemuslin dress, she tripped gracefully across the stage, and seatingherself at the piano, played and sang with exquisite skill the well-known song entitled, "No More, Never More. "

Then followed the reading of the compositions, Mildred being calledupon first, in a clear and peculiarly sweet voice she read, chainingto perfect silence her audience, which, when she was done, greeted herwith noisy cheers, whispering one to another that she was sure to win. Arabella, at her own request, was the last. With proud, flashing eyesand queenly air, she coolly surveyed the mass of heads before her, caught an admiring glance from George Clayton, and then, with a steadyhand unrolled her manuscript and read. Her subject was "The Outwardand the Inward Life, " and no gray-haired sage ever handled it moreskilfully than she. When she finished one universal burst of applauseshook the building to its centre, while her name was on every lip asshe triumphantly left the room. Just then a distant bell struck thehour of nine, and George Clayton arose to go. He was sure ofArabella's success, and in the hall below, whither she had gone to bidhim adieu, he shook her hand warmly, telling her how happy it made himto see her thus victorious, and winning from her a promise to write tohim when he should be over the sea. 

Half an hour later and the night express was bearing him far away. Half an hour later, and with flushed brow Arabella stood up andreceived the prize, which consisted of two elegantly bound volumes ofWordsworth and Coleridge. 

Forty minutes later, and from the seat by the door, a little bent, weird-looking woman arose, and making her way through the crowd, advanced until she stood upon the stage, then stretching her long, bony finger toward Arabella, who had returned, she said, "I am a loverof justice, and should I hold my peace, the very stones would cry outagainst me. Yonder young lady has no right to the prize, for the piecewhich she has palmed off as her own appeared in the _WoodlandGazette_, a paper published in an obscure New Hampshire village. Howshe came by it, she can, perhaps, explain, but I cannot. "

At the commencement of this strange speech, Arabella arose as if todefy the woman, who was thus blasting her good name, but at themention of the _Woodland Gazette_ she fainted and was carried from theroom. Madame Duvant now came forward and addressed a few low-spokenwords to the woman, who answered aloud, "I have the best of reasonsfor what I have said. My son, who lives in New Hampshire, occasionallysends me the _Gazette_, and in one number, which came nearly a yearago, appeared this very article, taken originally from an old Englishpaper. "

"Prove it! Produce the paper!" fiercely ejaculated Mrs. Greenleaf, asshe left the room in quest of her daughter. 

"I can do so, " answered the woman; "I never tore up a newspaper in mylife, and if the audience will wait for the space of ten minutes, Ican show them the very article"--saying which she glided noiselesslyfrom the room. 

She was a strange, half-crazy old creature, of wonderful memory, whooccupied a small cottage in the suburbs of the village, and manydoubts were expressed as to the veracity of her statement. But thesewere soon put to flight by her reappearance. Infolding the dingyyellow paper, she read aloud to her astonished hearers the articlewhich proved to have been taken from the "London Examiner". There wasnow no longer a shadow of doubt and the prize was withdrawn from thetreacherous Arabella, and as Mildred's composition was pronounced thenext in order, it was bestowed upon her. 

Mollified, indignant and almost frantic at this public disgrace, Arabella finally confessed to having stolen the piece from a papersent her some months before by a former schoolmate. The next morningshe left the village, heaping her pent-up wrath upon the head of herinnocent cousin, who was destined in more ways than one to rival her. 

Three months had passed away since the night of the exhibition, and ina private parlor at a London hotel sat George Clayton, ratherimpatiently awaiting the return of his servant from the post-office. As yet he had received no letter from Arabella, for though she hadwritten it had failed to reach him, and while he in the Old World wasmarvelling at her long delay, she in the New was wondering why he didnot answer. The mortification which she had endured affected herdeeply, bringing on at last a slow fever, which confined her to herbed, where for weeks she lay, carefully attended by Mildred, who once, when she complained of George's neglect, suggested the possibility ofhis not having received the letter. This was a new idea to Arabella, and as she was herself unable to write, she persuaded Mildred to do itfor her, and strange to say, the two letters reached their destinationat the same time. 

With eager haste George took them from his servant, who soon went outleaving him alone. The handwriting of both was not alike, and in sometrepidation the young man broke the seal of the one bearing the morerecent date. It was beautifully written, and mentally complimentingthe fair writer, George opened the other, uttering an exclamation ofsurprise ere he had read a dozen lines. It was a sickly, sentimentalaffair, taken partly from an old letterwriter, and containing manyhighflown sentences concerning the "_pearling rill, _" the "_silvereystarlite_" and the "_rozy morn_" which, being spelled as they were, presented a most formidable aspect to the fastidious young man. 

Although Arabella had taken much pains with her letter, at least one-fourth of the words were misspelt, and by the time George had finishedreading, he entertained no other feeling toward the writer than one ofdisguest, to think that, with all her showy accomplishments, she hadneglected what to him was the most important of all, for in nothing isthe ignorance of a young lady more apparent than in a badly-spelledletter. It was a long time ere he answered it, and then the few lineswhich he wrote were so cold, so different from his first, that in afit of anger Arabella tossed it into the fire, repenting the act themoment after, and, as if to make amends, writing in return a longletter, to which there came no response, and thus the correspondenceended. 

Eighteen months later, and again Madame Duvant's rooms were crowded tooverflowing, but this time Arabella Greenleaf was not there, thoughGeorge Clayton was, eagerly watching each word and movement of MildredGraham, whose uncle had insisted upon her remaining at school untilshe, too, should graduate, and who now, justly, received the highesthonors of her class. Very beautifully looked the young girl, and asshe modestly received the compliments of her friends, George Clayton'swas not the only admiring eye which rested upon her, for many now paidher homage. 

That night George asked to see her alone. His request was granted, andwhen next she parted from him it was as his betrothed. Immediatelyafter George's return from Europe, he had heard the story ofArabella's perfidy, and if no other circumstances had interposed towean him from her entirely, this alone would have done it, for hecould not respect a woman who would thus meanly stoop to deception. Hehad lingered in G-- for the purpose of renewing his formeracquaintance, with Mildred, the result of which we have seen. 

Mortified beyond measure, Arabella heard of her cousin's engagement, and when George came at last to claim his bride, she refused to seehim, wilfully absenting herself from home that she should not witnessthe bridal, which took place one bright October morning, when theforest trees, as if in honor of the occasion, were dressed in theirmost gorgeous robes, and the birds were singing their farewell songs. 

New misfortunes, however, awaited poor Arabella, for scarcely wasMildred gone to her southern home when the red flag of the auctioneerwaved from the windows of Mr. Greenleaf's luxurious house, which, withits costly furniture, was sold to the highest bidder, and the familywere left dependent upon their own exertions for support. When thefirst shock was over, Mr. Greenleaf proposed that his daughter shouldteach, and thus bring into use her boasted accomplishments. For a timeArabella refused, but hearing at last of a situation which she thoughtmight please her, she applied for it by letter. But alas, the mistakeshe made when she abandoned the spelling-book for the piano, againstood in the way, for no one would employ a teacher so lamentablyignorant of orthography. Nor is it at all probable she will ever risehigher than her present position--that of a _plain_ sewer--until shegoes back to _first_ principles, and commences again the despisedcolumn beginning with "_baker!_"

MAGGIE LEE

The usually quiet little village of Ellerton was, one June morning, thrown into a state of great excitement by the news that the largestone building on the hill, which, for several years had been shut up, was at last to have an occupant, and that said occupant was no less apersonage than its owner, Graham Thornton, who, at the early age oftwenty-eight, had been chosen to fill the responsible office of judgeof the county. Weary of city life, and knowing that a home in thecountry would not materially interfere with the discharge of his newduties, particularly as Ellerton was within half an hour's ride of thecity, young Thornton had conceived the idea of fitting up the oldstone house, bequeathed to him by his grandfather, in a style suitedto his abundant means and luxurious taste. Accordingly, for severalweeks, the people of Ellerton were kept in a constant state ofanxiety, watching, wondering and guessing, especially Miss OliviaMacey, who kept a small store in the outskirts of the village, andwhose fertile imagination supplied whatever her neighbors lacked inactual knowledge of the proceedings at "Greystone Hall, " as JudgeThornton called his place of residence. 

At last, every thing was completed and the day appointed for thearrival of the Judge, who, disliking confusion, had never once beennear his house, but, after a few general directions, had left theentire arrangement of the building and grounds to the management ofone whom he knew to be a connoisseur in such matters. As was verynatural, a great deal of curiosity was felt concerning the arrival ofthe distinguished stranger, and as his mother, a proud, stately woman, was to accompany him, Miss Olivia Macey, who boasted of having oncebeen a schoolmate of the haughty lady, resolved upon meeting them atthe depot, thinking she should thereby show them proper respect. 

"So, Maggie, " said she to her niece, a dark-haired, white-browed girlof fifteen, who, at noon, came bounding in from school, "so Maggie, you must watch the store, for there's no knowing how long I shall begone. Miss Thornton may ask me home with her, and it would not bepolite to refuse. "

For an instant Maggie's dark brown eyes danced with mischief as shethought how improbable it was that the lofty Mrs. Thornton would seekto renew her acquaintance with one in Miss Macey's humble position, but the next moment they filled with tears, and she said, "Oh, aunt, _must_ I stay from school again? It is the third time within a week. Inever shall know anything!"

"Never mind, Mag, " shouted little Ben, tossing his cap across the roomand helping himself to the largest piece of pie upon the dinner-table. "Never mind. I'll stay with you, for I don't like to go to school anyway. And we'll get our lessons at home. "

Maggie knew how useless it would be to argue the point, so with adejected air she seated herself at the open window and silentlywatched her aunt until she disappeared in the distance--then taking upher book, she tired to study, but could not, for the heavy pain at herheart which kept whispering of injustice done to her, unconsciously, perhaps, by the only mother she had ever known. Very dear to MissMacey were the orphan children of her only sister, and faithfully didshe strive to fulfill her trust, but she could not conceal herpartiality for fun-loving, curly-haired Ben, nor the fact that thesensitive and ambitious Maggie, who thirsted for knowledge, was whollyunappreciated and misunderstood. Learning--learning was what Maggiecraved, and she sat there alone that bright June afternoon, holdingupon her lap the head of her sleeping brother, and watching the summershadows as they chased each other over the velvety grass in the meadowbeyond, she wondered if it would ever be thus with her--would therenever come a time when she could pursue her studies undisturbed, andthen, as the thought that this day made her _fifteen_ years of age, her mind went forward to the future, and she said aloud--"Yes--threeyears from to-day and I shall be free--free as the air I breathe!"

But why that start, sweet Maggie Lee? Why that involuntary shudder asyou think of the long three years from now? She cannot tell, but theshadows deepen on her fair, girlish face, and leaning her brow uponher hand, she thinks long and earnestly of what the three years maybring. A footstep on the floor--the first which has fallen there thatafternoon--and Maggie looks up to see before her a tall, fine-lookingman, who, the moment his eye fell upon her, checked the _whistle_, intended for his dog, which was trembling on his lip, and lifting hishat deferentially, he asked if "this were Miss Macey's store?"

"Yes, sir, " answered Maggie, and laying Bennie gently down, she wentround behind the counter, while the young man, gazing curiously ather, continued, "You surely are not Miss Macey?"

There was a most comical expression in the brown eyes which met theblack ones of the stranger, as Maggie answered, "No sir, I am nobodybut Maggie Lee. "

There must have been something attractive either in the name or thelittle maiden who bore it, for long after the gentleman had receivedthe articles for which he came, he lingered, asking the young girlnumberless questions and playing with little Ben, who now wide awake, met his advances more than half way, and was on perfectly familiarterms both with the stranger and the dog Ponto, who had stretched hisshaggy length before the door. 

"Mag cries, she does, when Aunt Livy makes her stay home from school, "said Ben, at last, beginning to feel neglected and wishing to attractattention. 

Showing his white, handsome teeth, the gentleman playfully smoothedthe silken curls of little Ben, and turning to the blushing Maggie, asked "if she were fond of books?"

"Oh, I love them so much, " was the frank, impulsive answer, and ereten minutes had passed away, Judge Thornton, for he it was, understoodMaggie's character as well as if he had known her a lifetime. 

Books, poetry, music, paintings, flowers, she worshiped them all, andwithout the slightest means either of gratifying her taste. 

"I have in my library many choice books, to which you are welcome atany time when you will call at Greystone Hall, " the stranger said atlast. 

"Greystone Hall!" gasped Maggie, the little red spots coming out allover her neck and face--"Greystone Hall!--then you must be---"

"Judge Thornton, and your friend hereafter, " answered the gentleman, offering his hand and bidding her good-by. 

There are moments which leave their impress upon one's lifetime, changing instantaneously, as it were, our thoughts and feelings, andsuch an one had come to Maggie Lee, who was roused from a deep reverieby the shrill voice of her aunt, exclaiming, "Well, I've been on aTom-fool's errand once in my life. Here I've waited in that hot depotover two trains, and heard at the last minute that Mrs. Thornton andher son came up last night, and I hain't seen them after all. It's toobad. "

Very quietly Maggie told of the judge's call, repeating all theparticulars of the interview; then stealing away to her chamber, shethought again, wondering _where_ and _what_ she would be three yearsfrom that day. 

A year has passed away, and Graham Thornton, grown weary of hisduties, has resigned the office of judge, and turned school-teacher, so the gossiping villagers say, and with some degree of truth, forregularly each day Maggie Lee and Ben go up to Greystone Hall, wherethey recite their lessons to its owner, though always in the presenceof its lady mistress, who has taken a strange fancy to Maggie Lee, andwhose white hand has more than once rested caressingly on the dark, glossy hair of the young girl. To a casual observer, the Maggie of_sixteen_ is little changed from the Maggie of _fifteen_ years; but tohim, her teacher, she is not the same, for while in some respects sheis more a woman and less a child, in everything pertaining to himselfshe is far more a child than when first he met her one short year ago. Then there was about her a certain self-reliance, which is now allgone, and he who has looked so often into the thoughts and feelings ofthat childish heart knows he can sway her at his will. 

"But 'tis only a girlish friendship she feels for him, " he says; "onlya brotherly interest he entertains for her;" and so day after day shecomes to his library, and on a low stool, her accustomed seat at hisside, she drinks in new inspirations with which to feed that girlishfriendship, while he, gazing down into her soft, brown, dreamy eyes, feels more and more how necessary to his happiness is her dailypresence there. And if sometimes the man of the world asks himself"where all this will end?" his conscience is quieted by the answerthat Maggie Lee merely feels toward him as she would toward any personwho had done her a like favor. So all through the bright summer daysand through the hazy autumn time, Maggie dreams on, perfectly happy, though she knows not why, for never yet has a thought of _love_ forhim entered her soul. She only knows that he to her is the dearest, best of friends, and Greystone Hall the loveliest spot on earth, butthe wish that _she_ might ever be its mistress has never beenconceived. 

With the coming of the holidays the lessons were suspended for a time, for there was to be company at the hall, and its master would need allhis leisure. 

"I shall miss you so much, " he said to Maggie, as he walked with heracross the fields which led to her humble home. "I shall miss you, butthe claims of society must be met, and these ladies have long talkedof visiting us. "

"Are they young and handsome?" Maggie asked involuntarily. 

"Only one--Miss Helen Deane is accounted a beauty, She is an heiress, too, and the best match in all the city of L--, " answered Mr. Thornton, more to himself than Maggie, who at the mention of HelenDeane felt a cold shadow folding itself around her heart. 

Alas, poor Maggie Lee. The world has long since selected the proudHelen as the future bride of Graham Thornton, who, as he walks slowlyback across the snow-clad field, tramples upon the delicate footprintsyou have made, and wishes it were thus easy to blot out from his heartall memory of you! Poor, poor Maggie Lee, Helen Deane _is_ beautiful, far more beautiful than you, and when in her robes of purple velvet, with her locks of golden hair shading her soft eyes of blue, she flitslike a sunbeam through the spacious rooms of Greystone Hall, wakingtheir echoes with her voice of richest melody, what marvel if GrahamThornton does pay her homage, and reserves all thoughts of you for themidnight hour, when the hall is still and Helen's voice is no longerheard? He is but a man--a man, too, of the world, and so, though you, Maggie Lee, are very dear to him, he does not think it possible thathe can raise you to his rank--make you the honored mistress of hishome, and still lower himself not one iota from the station he hasever filled. And though his mother loves you, too, 'tis not with amother's love, and should children ever climb her knee calling her sontheir sire, she would deem you a _governess_ befitting such as they, and nothing more. But all this Maggie does not know, and when thevisiting is over and Helen Deane is gone, she goes back to her oldplace and sits again at the feet of Graham Thornton, never wonderingwhy he seems so often lost in thought, or why he looks so oft into hereyes of brown, trying to read there that he has not wronged her. 

Another year has passed, and with the light of the full moon shiningdown upon him, Graham Thornton walks again with Maggie Lee across thefields where now the summer grass is growing. The foot-prints in lastwinter's snow have passed away just as the light will go out fromMaggie's heart when Graham Thornton shall have told the tale he hascome with her to tell. With quivering lips and bloodless cheek shelistened while he told her indifferently, as if it were a piece ofnews she had probably heard before, that when the next full moonshould shine on Greystone Hall, Helen Deane would be there--his bride!

"This, of course, will effectually break up our pleasant meetings, " hecontinued, looking everywhere save in Maggie's face. "And this Iregret--but my books are still at your disposal. You will like Helen, I think, and will call on her of course. "

They had reached the little gate, and taking Maggie's hand, he wouldhave detained her for a few more parting words, but she broke away, and in reply to his last question, hurriedly answered, "Yes, yes. "

The next moment he was alone--alone in the bright moonlight. The doorwas shut. There was a barrier between himself and Maggie Lee, abarrier his own hands had built, and never again, so long as he lived, would Graham Thornton's conscience be at rest. Amid all the pomp ofhis bridal day--at the hour when, resplendent with beauty, Helen stoodby his side at the holy altar, and breathed the vows which made herhis forever--amid the gay festivities which followed, and the noisymirth which for days pervaded his home, there was ever a still, smallvoice which whispered to him of the great wrong he had done to MaggieLee, who never again was seen at Greystone Hall. 

Much the elder Mrs. Thornton marveled at her absence, and once whenher carriage was rolling past the door of the little store, she badeher coachman stop, while she herself went in to ask if her favoritewere ill. Miss Olivia's early call at Greystone Hall had never beenreturned, and now she bowed coldly and treated her visitor with markedreserve, until she learned why she had come; then, indeed, her mannerchanged, but she could not tell her how, on the night when GrahamThornton had cruelly torn the veil from Maggie's heart, leaving itcrushed and broken, she had found her long after midnight out in thetall, damp grass, where, in the wild abandonment of grief she hadthrown herself; nor how, in a calmer moment she had told her sadstory, exonerating him from wrong, and blaming only herself for nothaving learned sooner how much she loved one so far above her, so shesimply answered, "Yes, she took a violent cold and has been sick forweeks. Her mother died of consumption; I am afraid Maggie willfollow. "

"Poor girl, to die so young, " sighed Mrs. Thornton, as she returned toher carriage and was driven back to Greystone Hall, where, in a recessof the window Graham sat, his arm around his wife, and his fingersplaying with the curls of her golden hair. 

But the hand dropped nervously at his side when his mother startledhim with the news that "Maggie Lee was dying. " Very wonderingly thelarge blue eyes of Helen followed him, as, feigning sudden faintness, he fled out into the open air, which, laden though it was with theperfume of the summer flowers, had yet no power to quiet the voicewithin which told him that if Maggie died, he alone was guilty of herdeath. "But whatever I can do to atone for my error shall be done, " hethought at last, and until the chill November wind had blasted thelast bud, the choicest fruit and flowers which grew at Greystone Halldaily found entrance to the chamber of the sick girl, who wouldsometimes push them away, as if there still lingered among them theatmosphere they had breathed. 

"They remind me so much of the past that I cannot endure them in mypresence, " she said one day when her aunt brought her a beautifulbouquet, composed of her favorite flowers, and the hot tears rainedover the white, wasted face, as she ordered them from the room. 

Much she questioned both her aunt and Bennie of her rival, whosebeauty was the theme of the whole village, and once, when told thatshe was passing, she hastened to the window, but her cheek grew whiterstill, and her hands clasped each other involuntarily as she saw bythe side of the fair Helen the form of Graham Thornton. They both werelooking toward her window, and as Helen met the burning gaze, sheexclaimed, "Oh, Graham, it is terrible. It makes me faint, " andshudderingly she drew nearer to her husband, who, to his dying hour, never forgot the wild, dark eyes which looked down so reproachfullyupon him that memorable wintry day. 

Three years have passed away since the time when first we met withMaggie Lee--three years which seemed so long to her then, and whichhave brought her so much pain. She has watched the snow and ice asthey melted from off the hill-side. She has seen the grass spring upby the open door--has heard the robin singing in the old oak tree--hasfelt the summer air upon her cheek. She, has reached her _eighteenth_birthday, and ere another sun shall rise will indeed be free. 

"Oh, I cannot see her die, " cried poor little Ben, when he saw thepallor stealing over her face, and running out into the yard he threwhimself upon the grass, sobbing bitterly, "My sister, oh, my sister. "

"Is she worse?" said the voice of Graham Thornton. He was passing inthe street and had heard the wailing cry. Ben knew that in some wayJudge Thornton was connected with his grief, but he answeredrespectfully. "She is dying. Oh, Maggie, Maggie. What shall I dowithout her?"

"You shall live with _me_, " answered Mr. Thornton. 

'Twas a sudden impulse, and thinking the assurance that her brothershould be thus provided for would be a comfort to the dying girl, heglided noiselessly into the sick room. But she did not know him, andfalling on his knees by her side, he wept like a little child. "Shewas sleeping, " they said, at last, and lifting up his head he lookedupon her as she slept, while a fear, undefined and terrible, creptover him, as she lay so still and motionless. At length rising to hisfeet, he bent him down so low that his lips touched hers, and then, without a word, he went out from her presence, for _he_ knew thatMaggie Lee _was dead!_

The next day, at sunset, they buried her in the valley where the moundcould always be seen from the window of Graham Thornton's room, and, as with folded arms and aching heart he stood by, while they loweredthe coffin to its resting-place, he felt glad that it was so. "It willmake me a better man, " he thought, " for when evil passions rise, and Iam tempted to do wrong, I have only to look across the fields towardthe little grave which but for me would not have been made so soon, and I shall be strengthened to do what is right. "

Slowly and sadly he walked away, going back to his home, where, in aluxuriously furnished chamber, on a couch whose silken hangings sweptthe floor, lay his wife, and near her his infant daughter, that dayfour weeks of age. As yet she had no name, and when the night hadclosed upon them, and it was dark within the room, Graham Thorntondrew his chair to the side of his wife, and in low, subdued tones, told her of the fair young girl that day buried from his sight. Helenwas his wife, a gentle, faithful wife, and he could not tell her howmuch he had loved Maggie Lee, and that but for his foolish pride shewould perhaps at that moment have been where Helen was, instead ofsleeping in her early grave. --No, he could not tell her this, but hetold her that Maggie had been very dear to him, and he feared it wasfor the love of him that she had died. "I wronged her. Nellie, darling, " he said smoothing the golden tresses which lay on thepillow. "_I_ broke her heart, and now that she is gone I would honorher memory by calling our first-born daughter 'MAGGIE LEE. ' 'Tis abeautiful name, " he continued, "and you will not refuse my request. "

There was much of pride in Helen Thornton's nature, and she didrefuse, for days and even weeks; but when she saw the shadows deepenedon the brow of her husband, who would stand for hours looking outthrough the open window toward the valley where slept the villagedead, and when the mother in pity for her son, joined also in therequest, she yielded; and, as if the sacrifice were accepted and theatonement good, the first smile which ever dimpled the infant's cheek, played on its mouth, as with its large, strange, bright eyes fixedupon its father's face, it was baptized "Maggie Lee. "

Four years of sunshine and storm have fallen upon Maggie's grave, where now a costly marble stands, while the handsome iron fence andthe well-kept ground within show that some hand of love is often busythere. In a distant city Ben is striving to overcome his old dislikefor books, and seeking to make himself what he knows his sister wouldwish him to be. At home, the little store has been neatly fitted up, and Miss Olivia sits all day long in her pleasant parlor, feeling surethat the faithful clerk behind the counter will discharge his dutieswell. Greystone Hall is beautiful as ever, with its handsome rooms, its extensive grounds, its winding walks, its bubbling fountains andits wealth of flowers, but there is a shadow over all--a plague-spotwhich has eaten into the heart of Graham Thornton, and woven many athread of silver among his raven locks. It has bent the stately formof his lady mother, and his once gay-hearted wife wanders with astrange unrest from room to room, watching over the uncertainfootsteps of their only child, whose large, dark eyes, so much likethose which, four long years ago flashed down on Helen theirscrutinizing gaze, are darkened forever, _for little Maggie Lee isblind!_

They are getting somewhat accustomed to it now--accustomed to callingher their "poor, blind bird, " but the blow was crushing when first itcame, and on the grave in the valley, Graham Thornton more than oncelaid his forehead in the dust, and cried, "My punishment is greaterthan I can bear, "

But He "who doeth all things well, " has in a measure healed the wound, throwing so much of sunshine and of joy around her, who never saw theglorious light of day, that with every morning's dawn and everyevening's shade, the fond parents bless their little blind girl, theangel of their home. 

THE ANSWERED PRAYER

All day long the canary bird' had sung unheeded in his gilded cage bythe door, and the robin had caroled unheard by his nest in the tallmaple tree, while the soft summer air and the golden rays of the warmJune sun entered unnoticed the open windows of the richly furnishedroom, where a pale young mother kept her tireless watch by the bedsideof her only child, a beautiful boy, three summers old. For many dayshe had hovered between life and death, while she, his mother, had hungover him with speechless agony, terrible to behold in one so young, sofair as she. He was her all, the only happiness she knew, for poorLina Hastings was an unloving wife, who never yet had felt a thrill ofjoy at the sound of her husband's voice, and when occasionally hisbroad hand rested fondly upon her flowing curls, while he whispered inher ear how dear she was to him, his words awoke no answering chord oflove. 

How came she then his wife--and the mistress of his princely home?Alas! _wealth_ was then the god which Lina Moore worshipped, and whenRalph Hastings, with his uncouth form and hundreds of thousands, askedher to be his wife, she stifled the better feelings of her naturewhich prompted her to tell him No, and with a gleam of pride in herdark blue eyes, and a deeper glow upon her cheek, she one day passedfrom the bright sunshine of heaven into the sombre gloom of the grayold church, whence she came forth Lina Hastings, shuddering even asshe heard that name, and shrinking involuntarily from the caresseswhich the newly made husband bestowed upon her. And so the love shewithheld from him was given the child who now lay motionless and whiteas the to the costly linen on which his golden curls were streaming. 

All day she had watched him, for they told her that if he lived untilthe sun setting, there was hope, and as the hours wore on and the longshadows stretching to the eastward, betokened the approach of night, oh, how intense became the anxiety in her bosom. Fainter and softergrew the sunlight on the floor, and whiter grew the face of thesleeping boy. 'Twas the shadow of death, they said, and with a bitterwail of woe, Lina fell upon her knees, and as if she would compel theGod of heaven to hear her, she shrieked, "Spare my child. Let himlive, and I will bear whatsoever else of evil thou shalt send upon me. Afflict me in any other way and I can bear it, but spare to me mychild. "

In mercy or in wrath, Lina Hastings' prayer was answered. The pulsegrew stronger beneath her touch--the breath came faster through theparted lips--a faint moisture was perceptible beneath the yellowcurls, and when the sun was set the soft eyes of Eddie Hastingsunclosed, and turned with a look of recognition upon his mother, who, clasping him in her arms, wept for joy, but returned no word orthought of gratitude toward Him who had been thus merciful to her. 

In a small brown cottage in a distant part of the same village, another mother was watching beside her first-born, only son. They hadbeen friends in their girlhood, she and Lina Hastings. Together theyhad conned the same hard tasks--together they had built theirplayhouse beneath the same old chestnut tree--together, hand in handthey wandered over the rocky hills and through the shady woods of NewEngland, and at the same altar had they plighted their marriage vows, the one to the man she loved, the other to the man she tolerated forthe sake of his surroundings. From this point their paths diverged, Lina moving in the sphere to which her husband's wealth had raisedher, while Mabel Parkman one sad morning awoke from her sweet dream ofbliss to find herself wedded to a drunkard! Only they who like herhave experienced a similar awakening can know the bitterness of thathour, and yet methinks she was happier than the haughty Lina, for herlove was no idle passion, and through weal and woe she clung to herhusband, living oft on the remembrance of what he had been, and thehope of what he might be again, and when her little Willie was firstlaid upon her bosom, and she felt her husband's tears upon her cheekas he promised to reform for her sake and for his son's, she would nothave exchanged her lot with that of the proudest in the land. Thatvow, alas, was ere long broken, and then, though she wept bitterlyover his fall, she felt that she was not desolate, for there was musicin her Willie's voice and sunshine in his presence. 

But now he was dying, he was leaving her forever, and as she thoughtof the long dark days when she should look for him in vain, shestaggered beneath the heavy blow, and in tones as heart-broken asthose which had fallen from Lina Hasting's lips, she prayed "If it bepossible let this cup pass from me, " adding, "Not my will, oh God, butthine be done. "

"I will do all things well, " seemed whispered in her ear, and thuscomforted she nerved herself to meet the worst. All the day shewatched by her child, chafing his little hands, smoothing his scantypillow beneath his head, bathing his burning forehead, and forcingdown her bitter tears when in his disturbed sleep he would beg of hisfather to "bring him an orange--a nice yellow orange--he was so dry. "

Alas, that father was where the song of the inebriate rose high on thesummer air, and he heard not the pleadings of his son. 'Twas a dreary, desolate room where Willie Parkman lay, and when the sun went down andthe night shadows fell, it seemed darker, drearier still. On the rudetable by the window a candle dimly burned, but as the hours sped on itflickered awhile in its socket, then for an instant flashed up, illuminating the strangely beautiful face of the sleeping boy, andwent out. 

An hour later, and Willie awoke. Feeling for his mother's hand, hesaid; "Tell me true, do drunkards go to heaven?"

"There is for them no promise, " was the wretched mother's answer. 

"Then I shall never see pa again. Tell him good-by, good-by forever. "

The next time he spoke it was to ask his mother to come near to him, that he might see her face once more. She did so, bending low andstifling her own great agony, lest it should add one pang to his dyinghour. 

"I cannot see you, " he whispered, "it is so dark--so dark. "

Oh, what would not that mother have given then for one of the lightswhich gleamed from the windows of the stately mansion where EddieHastings was watched by careful attendants. But it could not be andwhen at last the silvery moon-beams came struggling through the openwindow and fell upon the white brow of the little boy, they did notrouse him, for a far more glorious light had dawned upon his immortalvision--even the light of the Everlasting. 

 In her tasteful boudoir sat Lina Hastings, and at her side, on asilken lounge, lay Eddie, calmly sleeping, The crisis was past--sheknew he would live, and her cup of happiness was full. Suddenly themorning stillness was broken by the sound of a tolling bell. 'Twas thesame which, but for God's mercy, would at that moment, perhaps, havetolled for her boy, and Lina involuntarily shuddered as she listenedto the strokes, which, at first were far between. Then they camefaster, and as Lina counted _five_ she said aloud, "'Twas a child buttwo years older than Eddie. "

Later in the day it came to her that the bereaved one was her earlyfriend, whom now she seldom met. Once Lina would have flown to Mabel'sside, and poured into her ear words of comfort, but her heart hadgrown hard and selfish, and so she only said, "Poor Mabel, she neverwas as fortunate as I"--and her eye glanced proudly around theelegantly-furnished room, falling at last upon Eddie, whom she claspedto her bosom passionately, but without thought of Him who had decreedthat not then should she be written childless. 

The humble funeral was over. The soft, green turf had been broken, andthe bright June flowers had fallen beneath the old sexton's spade ashe dug the little grave where Willie Parkman was laid to rest. In thedrunkard's home there was again darkness and a silence which wouldnever be broken by the prattle of a childish voice. Sobered, repentant, and heartbroken, the wretched father laid his head in thelap of his faithful wife, beseeching of her to pray that the vow thatmorning breathed by Willie's coffin and renewed by Willie's gravemight be kept unbroken. And she did pray, poor Mabel. With her armsaround the neck of the weeping man, she asked that this, her greatbereavement, might be sanctified to the salvation of her erringhusband. 

"I will do all things well, " again seemed whispered in her ear andMabel felt assured that Willie had not died in vain. 'Twas hard atfirst for Robert Parkman to break the chains which bound him, but theremembrance of Willie's touching message--"Tell pa good-by, good-byforever, " would rush to his mind whenever he essayed to take thepoisonous bowl, and thus was he saved, and when the first day of a newyear was ushered in, he stood with Mabel at the altar, and on hisupturned brow received the baptismal waters, while the man of Godbroke to him the bread of life. Much that night they missed theirchild, and Mabel's tears fell like rain upon the soft, chestnut curlshe had severed from his head, but as she looked upon her husband, nowstrong again in his restored manhood, she murmured--"It was for thisthat Willie died, and I would not that it should be otherwise. "

Fifteen years have passed away since the day when Lina Hastingsbreathed that almost impious prayer--"Send upon me any evil but this, "and upon the deep blue waters of the Pacific a noble vessel laybecalmed, Fiercely the rays of a tropical sun poured down upon herhardy crew, but they heeded it not. With anxious, frightened faces andsubdued step, they trod the deck, speaking in whispers of some dreadedevent. There had been mutiny on board that mat-of-war-a deep-laid plotto murder the commanding officers, and now, at sun-setting, theinstigators, four in number, were to pay the penalty of their crime. Three of them were old and hardened in sin, but the fourth, thefiercest spirit of all 'twas said, was young and beautiful to lookupon. In the brown curls of his waving hair there were no threads ofsilver, and on his brow there were no lines save those of recklessdissipation, while his beardless cheek was round and smooth as that ofa girl. Accustomed from his earliest childhood to rule, he could notbrook restraint, and when it was put upon him, he had rebelled againstit, stirring up strife, and leading on his comrades, who, used as theywere to vice, marveled that one so young should be so deeply depraved. 

The sun was set. Darkness was upon the mighty deep, and the wavesmoved by the breeze which had sprung up, seemed to chant a mournfuldirge for the boy, who, far below, lay sleeping in a dishonored grave, if grave it can be called, where

"The purple mullet and gold fish rove, Where the sea flower spreadsits leaves of blue Which never are wet with the falling dew, But inbright and changeful beauty shine Far down in the depths of the glassybrine. "

Over the surging billow and away to the north ward, other robins aresinging in the old maple-tree than those which sang there years ago, when death seemed brooding o'er the place. Again the summer shadowsfall aslant the bright green lawn, and the soft breezes laden with theperfume of a thousand flowers, kiss the faded brow of Lina Hastings, but they bring no gladness to her aching heart, for her thoughts areafar on the deep with the wayward boy who, spurning alike her words oflove and censure, has gone from her "to return no more forever, " hesaid, for he left her in bitter anger. For three years the tall grasshas grown over the grave of her husband, who to the last was unloved, and now she is alone in her splendid home, watching at the dawn of dayand watching at the hour of eve for the return of her son. 

Alas, alas, fond mother, Mabel Parkman in her hour of trial, neverfelt a throb of such bitter agony as that which wrung your heart-strings when first you heard the dreadful story of your disgrace. There were days and weeks of wild frenzy, during which she wouldshriek "Would to heaven he had died that night when he was young andinnocent, " and then she grew calm, sinking into a state of imbecilityfrom which naught had the power to rouse her. 

A year or two more, and they made for her a grave by the side of herhusband, and the hearts which in life were so divided, now restquietly together, while on the costly marble above them there isinscribed the name of their son, who sleeps alone and unwept in thefar-off Southern Seas. 

The End.