A NEW BOOK,
UNIFORM: WITH THIS VOLTJICB, AND BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
HEART HUNGRY.
BY THE AUTHO OP "CLIFFORD TKOUP."
S<Ad by aU EookseHerK, and sent \tj mn postage free, on receipt of price, 91.75, by
O. W. CARLETON &, CO., P Mew T*rk.
.8*-
It

CLIFFORD TROTJP
BY
MARIA JOURDA5 WESTMOKELAXD,
APTHOE or
TO.
NEW YORK: G. W. Carkton fcf Co~. Publishers.
LONDOS: S LOW, SOH & CO. M.DCCC.LXXIII.

r Killing to Act of OUBCIMI, in the jetx 1873, by O. W. CARLETOH t CO.,
la tba OAce of ti*e TJIirnun of OOKXBHL si
fy o| Supreme Ccunctl 10,194O
873
WOMBV8 PBXVTIV HOUBB, "* K, fg sad Psric Street,

" Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouiaged."-- Cobesuing, 3d Chapter, 21* Vent.

I. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

f

__

'

\

TT. Thou shalt not make nnto thee any graven image, or any like

ness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth be

neath, or that is in the water under the earth; thou shalt not bow

down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I, the Lord hy God, am

a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children

unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me: sad show

ing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my Com

mandments.

V. Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be loo; upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee,--
Chapter. .

iff /4RS.
(LA 8UPXRBX,)
or
NIW OBLBAVS,
ATT.AXTA, , 187X

\
I

CONTENTS.

PAG*

L--The Terraces .....

11

H--Behind the Scenes ....

17

in.--The Day after the Wedding

22

IV.--The Last Appeal ....

32

V.--Done ! !!

.....

44

VI.--Playing- with a Two-edged Sword .

50

VII.--Of Course !

.....

59

Vm.--The Sage of "Pleasant Retreat" .

65

IX.--Xot Xow ......

71

X.--Lore and Honor . . . . *

77

XI.--The Arrival .....

82

TTT--Homesick .....

93

XIIL-- In.the "Sanctuary" ....

100

XIY.--Forbidden Memories . .

105

XT.--"Angels and Ministers of Grace," etc.

107

XVI.--Sot Manly .....

113

XVn.--Inevitable !

117

XVin.--Trinmph! .....

124

XIX.--Despair! ......

132

XX.--A Mother's Heart ....

144

XXI.--Why Not? ......

148

XXII--A True Wife .....

153

,r

XXTIL--Going Away .....

157

XX IT.--Wearing !

.....

XXV.--Forever? . . . . .

168

10

OO5TEHT8,

JSJLY1.--A Check !

......

PACT . 175

XTVTL--May I? . . . . . . .

.180

3cxVtn --Lonesome !........ 189

X X I X --T Beseech You [ ^^j^^^' , ... 192

XXX.--Well, Paul? . r^^\ .... 200

XXXL--Kffling the Fatted Oalf ...... 202

xxxii --Never !!.....

.

212

xxxiii --A Charming Pupil ....... 219

XXXTV.--The Rivals ........ 22G

xxxv --A Beautiful Iceberg ...... 235

xxxvi. --Not in tifcie Calendar ..:... 240

x x x v n' --AH. that a Woman is Bora for?

. . . 240

XXXVHL--Dear Paul! ........ 2o2

* x x i X. --Nothing! . . . . _ . . . . . 2oo

XL.--At Last !..' ^ ..... 259

"x~TT --Over the Sea . . "* . . . . . . 276

' XLTT,--Huah!!! . . ' . . . . . .282

XLTTT. --In Ashes ......... 288

XUV.--A Bitter Struggle ...... 291

XLV. --Back in London

f> *

. . . . 29-5

XLYI.--Aimless ! ...'..... 302

,

i

XLTTL--Day by Day ........ 307

.--Bead ! ! ! . . . . . . . . 31C

XUX.--Breaking Down the^Wafl ..... 320

, L. --The Shadows Thicken. ..... 331

LL--"Birdie" ........ 335

CLIFFORD TROTJP.

CHAPTER I

THE TERRACES, ^

ILIFFORD!!"

It was bnt a single word a single tone a sin

gle name, but it betrayed all the agonv in her

heart, and by the soft moonlight, the tears which stood

in her eloquent eyes were visible- ^

Steeling his heart against the better impulses of l^is

nature which were struggling for the ascendancy, and

not trusting himself to glance at the grief-stricken girl so

*_<

f -?

i--

-

i_j

fondly loved, lest it should unman him, he said:

*

7

3

"Yes, Gertrude, my father demands it, and to save

his gray hairs from a prisoner's cell, my happiness must

be sacriticed."

1

a*

His words were quick and hurried, and it was evident

he would have spared his betrothed this cruel blow, had

not a high sense of honor driven him to make her his

confidante.

v

" Oh, God ! then it is true ? "

These words came with a gasp, and the next instant,

the trembling, weeping girl was folded to a heart which

was as deeply lacerated as her own. Hi a tears mingled

12

THE TERRACES.

with hers, and they were iiot unmanly, for in that mo

ment of speechless agony, the fate of two lives was being

decided. Should it be separation and ml&ery, or should^

it be disobedience and happiness? Should the son be

sacrificed for the father, or should the father become a

martyr for his boy? These were the questions which

forced themselves opon Clifford in the trving hour here

recorded.

*

A mother's heart would have answered: " Bum me

at the state, but spare my child--"

But, a father's heart?

be its reply ? "We shall see! Nothing could

than the devotion of these two young

[or thev loved each *other because their souls *in accord. Thus far, their lives were sinless, their

motives pore, theirHntentions good, -their hopes bright;

but they, like aH the rest, most pay for \b transgression

in the garden; and judging from present appearances,

theIitrwsoasrroawgsawlae-rneigtohtbeagt iT,n.~h.eearlT"verinracliefse,. thosi e far-famed

gardens which have been deservedly immortalized in song

and story, and which are equally celebrated for sly flirta

tions and match-making, to say nothing of tender vows,

of whispered words of love, of stolen glances, and of

dreams too beautiful to last. This earthly paradise.

which lay juet beyond the outskirts of the, beautiful vil

lage of L-^--, stretched over acres upon acres, and was

adorned with fountains and summer-houses, and hedges,

and flowers, and evergreens, which bewildered the mind

as it took in the scene. It was the wedding-night of the

only daughter of the proprietor of these famous grounds,

mad as these two lovers sat in a secluded summer-house

THE TERRACES.

13

in a state of crucifixion, the mnsic of a fine orchestra was

wafted to them upon the soft warm night-air, and their

happy companions were flitting in the dance. Thus, the

li&ghts and shadows of life are ever blended, and it is
strange how forgetf ol the joyous can be of all but their

own happiness, and how oblivious the wretched can be of

all but their own misery. Womanly in her grief, as in

her love, Gertrude's whole being was shocked by this un

expected blow, and but for the little self-control which

Clifford at length commanded, this painful interview

might have been imprudently prolonged. Finally, crush

ing down^ his own feelings, and clinching as with a vice

*-,

o-

*-*

the deare in his heart which pleaded for sympathy, he

attempted to console her. from whose pathway he would

have

ba^nished

everv

shadow--to

soothe

her

whom

he

was

called upon to sacrifice for a father's honor.

her head, and Vi-ying her brow, he aaid ten-

-

~

3

d erlv:

'''Do not weep, Gertrude;" but the torrent poured

afresh* and he might as easily have stayed the tempest in

its course, Xo answer came to reward his effort, and in

that moment he fully realized that the first gr^at grief

had come to them both ; and though tie wound' might

heal, the scar would go with them to their graves.

Xo matter how palliating the circumstances, no matter in

whit way a woman is disappointed in her love, she can never

meet it calmly or with fortitude. This would be expect

ing her to unsex herself. She can nerer understand that

it is best for her not to love where her heart yields inroi-

untauy homage, nor can she always appreciate that duty

sometimes drives men to smother feeling as they would

the blase enkindled by an incendiary. Gertrude erperi-

(

THE TEKRACES.

,

enced all this only too keenly; for disappointment was unknown to her, and her love was her being, her future, her alL Deprive her of that, and what were life ? A sepalehre, wherein would be buried aft her hopes and dreams. That she loves and cannot forget, is the anath ema which curses every woman with soul deep enough to experience the grand passion; and we say anatfitma maranatha upon that false system which cultivates feeling at the expense of duty, and leaves one half of God's creat ures with weakened hands to fight the stern battle of Life. Women have to stand alone at the Judgment; then why not educate them to help themselves in this world, instead of teaching them that such a thing is unwom anly, and that they must forever lean like slender reeds upon some stronger support ? Such false ideas are not only mistaken kindness, but cruel in the end, making life just that much harder to bear. A woman need not be masculine or lose one iota of her delicacy because she is morally strong, and no true woman will ever desire to go beyond the pale in which her Creator has made her the equal of man in all, but physical strength.
The moonbeams stole quietly through the clustering vines-, and fell like a silver sheen upon Gertrude's dress of rose-colored silk and illusion; the night air was heavy with the perfume of yellow jasmines and honeysuckles; the mu sic jarred harshly upon the unstrung nerves of the lovers, and while the young girl's life seemed ebbing from her in hysterical sobs, Clifford bent sadly over her, and a silent prayer went up from his heart to God which asked for help and guidance. At last, nerving himself for one more effort, he said tenderly and tearfully:
" Gertrude, you forget that this marriage will be as

THE

15

hard for me as for you, or, I know, you would sympathize

with, instead of reproaching me."

The appeal went straight to her woman's heart, and

'twixt her tears she said :

" I do not reproach yon, Clifford."

" TThat are these tears, but reproaches ?"

" Let them flow, or I shall die!"

" But I ask you, darling, to dry them, so that we can re

turn to the house ; for our absence may be remarked, and

I would not compromise yon for all the world ; " and lie

stroked her beautiful brow as he spoke. Instantly imag

ining he was weary of a scene in which his sympathy was

not equal to her own. she forced back her tears, and aris

ing, drew herself up haughtily, and said, in a wounded

tone:

"I should as soon think of dancing at my own funeral,

as of returning to the ball."

" But society and appearances compel us to do many

painful things," interceded Clifford, with his usual regard

for all the demands of courtesy. f

" But YOU see I am not a society slave; and so. I will

tl

*

i



1

go home if you will escort me to the carriage."

At another moment she would have listened calmly

and heeded willingly any advice from this source; but

love whispered she was betrayed--pride whispered'she

was forsaken, and woman-like, she resented the combina

tion.

1 "But you have no wrappings?" Clifford said, with

the hope of arresting a determination which he well knew

was more the result of pique than reason.

" That makes no difference ; " and stopping suddenly,

where the moon shone full in his face, she said tauntingly,

16

THE TERRACES.

u The night-air is not BO cruel as men--it surely will not

hurt so weak a thing as a--woman,"

Theo, with a sneer upon her faultless lips, she walked

like the Queen of Tragedy towards the entrance to the

Park. With a sigh and no heart to reply to her cruel

words, Clifford said again:

" Will you not allow me to go to the house for your

shawl and hood ?"

-

-'

" No," was the laconic reply, as she almost flew along

the serpentine walks, in whose intricate labyrinths had

been passed the happiest, and now the most wretched mo

ments of her young and uneventful life. In silence they

gained the carriage, and after assisting her in, Clifford

wodld have entered also; but waving him haughtily back,

and slamming the door, she said:

* u I prefer to go. home alone!" /

With an astonished air, he drew himself proudly up,

and said:

" What excuse shall I offer to our hostess 1"

Quick as a flash she looked him defiantly in the eyes,

and said:

" Tell her that I am heart-broken, and have gone home

to die!"

A low, mocking laugh, which is fearful in women, fol

lowed these words, and then she ordered the driver per

emptorily to "go on."

Sinking back in the carriage, she abandoned herself to

her grief, and reached the humble cottage of her widowed

mother, in a state of wretchedness, which increased as

the night dragged by, while her lover returned to the gay t

saloon and laughed and danced and drank with a dagger

in his heart.

BEHIND THE SCENES.

IT

BEHIND THE SCENES.
IROUPHJ .
A name which should thrill every Georgian's heart with pride--a synonym for all that is good and great--recalling, as it does, one who was the embodiment of unswerving Principle, devotion to Coun try, and fidelity to Liberty. A worthy disciple of Jefferson--a man who loved Right for Right's sake, and with the strong conviction of Truth ou his side, fearlessly denounced frauds and aggressida at home, and defied insult and tyranny from abroad. The champion of personal freedom and State's Rights, and the intrepid author of those immortal words: " I entreat you, therefore, most earnestly, now that it is not too late, to step forth, and, having ex hausted the argument, to stand by your arms! " Such a man was our George M. Troup !--one of the few who was not born to die--an honor to the country-- a glory to Georgia! It was not strange then, was it, that the Honorable Clifford Troup, Sen., was proud to claim even a very remote relationship with such a man as this? Nor was it singular that doubtful means were em ployed to keep such a grand name untarnished, was it ?-- that is, untarnished before the world. We think not, for human nature will be human nature; and sometimes

18

BEniN'D THE SCENES.

false pride, which may be reckoned as one of its greatest

weaknesses, drives men into fatal error?, which are com

mitted

through, i.,

want

of

moral

f<>roe

and

moral

discipline. J.

It is the same old storv which is familiar to manv of us

/

c

in our beloved South. Mr. Troup had been in politics for

manv vears, but was at length defeated--had lived most

tj

4/_

/

t----/

extravagantly, then travelled abroad with his family--paid

enormous sums for pictures by the old masters--threw

away money upon celebrated statues which princes en

vied him--bought every pleasure which could be pur

chased--entrusted everything to overseers and agents,

only, drawing upon his factors, until one fine day he

was summoned home from Europe to find himself--a

bankrupt! There was but one alternative. It was put

into execution, and the " Troup Manor," the grand old

home of his ancestors, was mortgaged. It was easy to

obtain securities in those davs of wealth and chivalrv,

U

V'

and with pressing creditors eased off, the honorable gen

tleman again resumed the old luxurious mode of living,

*--*

<^s '

forg~ etting~ or ig~noringo the fact tha.t. he was no long~ er a

miUionnaire. But there were some daughters and a son

to look after, and their future rather perplexed the affec

tionate (!) father. It was only for a little while, though;

and comprehending fully that money was the great de

sideratum now, the next step was to find the requisite

number of individuals thus fortunately endowed. They

were found, and within the next two or three years,

winch followed from that time down to the opening of

our story, the lovely and accomplished daughters were all

married.

1'rousseaus

of

unusual

magnificence i---

were

furnished them--the utter recklessness of their expendi

ture gave rise to much talk--the father became more

THE SCENES.

19

deeply involved every day, and what was to be' the end, the future alone could tell. At this stasOre of affair' s in the
crisis, the honorable father, for the first time, began fully to realize that something must be done, and that speedilv ,' for in less than three m^onths the mortgoagoe had to be raised, or the alternative endured. This now 'meant dishonor, if not imprisonment; for his creditors, who had borne with him long and patiently, were denouncing him publicly and vehemently, and seemed bent on revenge. It was the beoginningo of the fioght between the classes.* now some thirty years ago; for although they were all " honorable men," yet the lion. Mr. Troup's cotton fac tors knew full well that his aristocratic doors were closed to them, and now that his fortune was gone, their doors would be closed to -him. To ask a loan was out of the question; for he had already borrowed frQm both friend and relative, and having failed to meet his pay ments, could not, of course, again trespass upon their liberality. In this dire extremity, he sat thinking one night, long and late. Piles of papers and books and ledgers and bills were around him, but to look into them now was of no avail, and could prove nothing but that he was a ruined man. Until the hour which saw him so perplexed, he had rested in fancied security, expecting by a marriage between his son Clifford and Virginia Bearing, sole heiress of the magnificent estate of " Mossy Creek," to meet his liabilities. The two had been betrothed in their childhood, and it was the life long hope of both families to have the betrothal consum mated in marriage. That Mr. Troup desired it for more reasons than one, will be readily understood, when it is
that he looked forward to the bridal dower as the

20

BEHIND THE SCENES.

last hope of rescuing the " Manor." Suddenly, he was awakened from this fond dream by a letter from Clif ford, which aroused him to a knowledge of matters as they really stood, for in it his son said, " The engagement, which was only partial with Miss Dearing, has long since been broken, and I have no desire to renew it, even granting it should be agreeable to the young lady."
" Broken ! " thought the father, as aJlook of disap pointment and perplexity knitted his brow and com pressed his lips. A new dilemma--what was to be done ? After a few moments of reflection, he thought: " I will tell him exactly how I am situated, and leave the rest to him--as my son. I fancy such a course will have its weight." Let no one suppose that Mr. Troup was not an honorable man; for he was the soul of honor, and could his motives have been looked into, perhaps no word of censure would ever be uttered against him, for his main idea was to pay his debts. If he had had the money, he would have paid the last dollar he was owing; but not having it, he was driven by pride, and a sincere desire to shield his name from reproach, to extraordinary means of procuring it. Thus do we behold the end of a man who had been reared to sympathize with his caste in thinking it not exactly the thing for a gentleman to look' after his own business, to keep his own accounts, or to know aught of ledgers and day-books. Away with such false ideas! Let children be taught habits of business and industry--of prudence and economy; teach them that it is a disgrace to live upon a credit and be in debt, and rest assured the midnight hour will never find them plotting for the sacrifice of their own flesh and blood. Were there no qualms of conscience in this father's heart

BEHIND TilE SCENES.

21

as he sat thinking and planning ? There were!--for there was nothing mean in his nature, and now he was but the creature of circumstances and expediency.
He never dreamed of doing what he was about to do-- for, regardless of the future, he sought only to relieve the necessities of the present.

THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING.

CHAPTER m.

THE DAY AFTEB THE WEDDING.

OYERTY is a hard task-master, and allows but

few privileges to its victims. So, witli the early

dawn Gertrude exchanged her ball-dress for a

simple calico, in order to open their rooms at the usual

honr: for her mother was a dress-maker, and bv the as-

J

J

V

sistance and good taste of her daughter, succeeded in

pleasing the most fastidious fashionists in their midst.

Gertrude was a great pet in the village, for it was one of

the few places on the globe where money was not wor

shipped to the utter exclusion of merit; and hence it was

that she was visited bvt/ the first and best,/ and invited to their houses. Her father, Mr. Augustus Lawrence, was

a man of good blood and mind, but--dissipated. That

tells the whole story, and explains why the mother and

daughter were left penniless to bend over the needle for

af support.

Attracted by a pretty face, he had married the daughter

of a plain, honest farmer--some people said for a home,

for you know people will talk ; and it really seemed so ;

for he never raised his aristocratic finger to do a thing,

and lived upon the old man, until driven from the roof

by an exasperated family. This is not to be wondered

at; for a man with " delirium tremens " two-thirds of the

time, is not the most desirable companion in the world ;

and nothing but the love of woman can endure and bear

THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDDxG.

23

with such a degraded creature. Wife-like, Mrs. Law

rence chose to follow the precarious fortunes of her

drunken husband; and it was at this time that she took

a house

in

the

village *^.

where we find

her, *

and

offered her

services to the public as a dress-nmkiT. It was a bitter

struggle to keep the wolf from the door, for as fast as

the money came in. it was as. quickly exchanged for

v

J

i

V

~

liquor; and with shame be it written, that blows were

sometimes given the wife, when a tiny pittance was with

held for the bare necessities of life. Her father had

given her her choice, to follow her worthless husband, or

share his home and comforts. Like any*/ true wife,s she went with him whom she had taken for better and for

worse, an^Ljtoiled and slaved for him, henceforth becom

ing ^

a

stranger O

to

her own

family, *, s

from

whom

her

pride
IT

separated her. Many times she would have sunk beneath

her heavy burden; but casting it upon the Lord, she asked

Him to help her carry it, and true to His word He never

forsook her. Matters went on from bad to worse--the

wretched years multiplied--little Gertrude grew and

strengthened in spite of the noxious atmosphere of her

cheerless home--the grief-worn furrows deepened upon

the mother's brow, and the insatiate longing for that hell

ish beverage which makes brutes of those creatures who

are only a little lower than the angels, was finally satisfied

in the rave. V--' Yes, Death was merciful- to the wife and child ; and

after many years of torture to himself and others, the

man, who was husband and father but in name, slept the

last sleep, and no longer made his home hideous with his

wild ravings. After this period, the wheel of fortune

turned in favor of the widow, and in the course of a few

THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING.

years she was enabled to buy a little home and fit it up

simply,x but comfortably. She had given her daughter

the best advantages of education within her reach, and

as they had not been misapplied, she now had the gratifi

cation of knowing that Gertrude was considered one of

the most accomplished girls in the town. She was much

admired, and could have married well; but her affections

having been disengaged until Isftely, she preferred assist

ing'her mother and supporting herself, to wedding ibr

convenience. She had those large gray eyes, which are

not only indicative of intellect, but of soul and depth of

feeling, and they were fringed with dark-brown silken

lashes, which rested against a pair of delicately arched

evebrows of the same tint, which looked almost black as

/

s

they pressed against her alabaster skin. Her hair was

almost golden, her brow low and broad, her lips red and

thin, her teeth faultless, and the rose and lily played hide-

and-seek in her dimpled cheeks. "With a nature passion

ate, tender, earnest, and loving, she was destined to enjoy

intensely and suffer keenly.

" Tou are up early, my darling," said Mrs. Lawrence,

as her daughter entered the dining-room at the usual

breakfast hour, and gave her a kiss, the morning after

the wedding.

. " Yes, I could not sleep, so I got up."

" I hope you are not sick," was the anxious reply, as

the mother noticed how pale her beautiful child was,

" Oh, no ; I have a severe headache, which I hope the

coffee will relieve."

" I suppose the wedding was a brilliant affair \ "

" Yes*"--sipping her coffee.

" Of course the bride looked lovely ? "

THE DAT AFTEE THE WEDDING.

" Yes "--as if not wishing to talk.

" And you enjoyed the evening ? "

Gertrude strutted hard to sav " Yes." but the falsehood

"O

-;

/

faltered upon her lips, and as the tears came into her

eyes, she hastily left the room. Until lately, there had

never been any concealments between mother and daugh

ter, and so long as the maternal breast is the confessional, just that long will the child continue in the path of virtue,

and be strengthened to resist temptation. Gertrude had

committed no real wrong, but she had acted in opposi

tion to her mother's wishes in receiving such marked

attention from Clifford Troup, for with a woman's keen perception, and perhaps with some ill-defined omen,

Mrs. Lawrence feared this fine aristocrat misorht win her daughter's heart, then abandon her. So, when the time came, which the mother had predicted, it was not strange that the daughter should shrink .from confiding in her,

and it was but natural that she should wish to shield her lover from blame and censure.

Thinking perhaps Gertrude was only a little nervous from loss of sleep, Mre. Lawrence went quietly about her

duties, and left her to hcrs*elf. Several ladies dropped in

during the morning--the wedding was amply discussed-- the day advanced, and when the mother sought her child

she found her in a deep slumber, from which she did not

awaken until the sun was sinking. Surprised at the late

ness of the hour, she sprang quickly up, and hastily made her toilette. The long nap had refreshed her wonder-

jfully, and as she took that inevitably last look in her mir-

|ror, which the ladies will steal, her mother ente/ed, say-

jing:

.

" Mr. .Troup is in the parlor."
a

26

THE DAT AFTEB THE WEDDING.

The color deepened in her cheeks, her eyes sparkled with the joy which made her heart flutter, and throwing her arms around her mother's neck, she kissed her, and said :
" Oh, mother, I was so foolish and nervous this morn ing ; but I am perfectly well now, and as happy as I can be!"
" I am glad to hear it, my daughter," returning the em brace ; " but come, you must not detain your friend."
" No, I will not;" and together they left the room. Gertrude's heart beat so violently and with such wild apprehensions, that she feared her mother would detect what lay concealed therein, so she was very glad to see her go in an opposite direction from the parlor. How she came there, she scarcely knew, but a moment afterwards the young- girl was folded in a silent embrace to her lov er's heart, and he was saying : " Come with me for a walk. I must talk to you, but I cannot do it here ! " Granting his request, they were soon strolling quietly and silently in the direction of The Terraces--that heaven of all other trysting spots. Happy to intoxication in the presence of her lover, Gertrude forgot for the moment the painful occurrence of the night before--or if she thought of it, it was only as one recalls some horrid nightmare, which is instantly banished, as too dreadful to dwell npon. Some harrowing thought evidently obtruded itself upon Clifford, though; for a cloud knitted his brow, the dark circles beneath his eyes told of suffering, and his compressed lips spoke sternly of a painful determination about to be performed. Nature had been lavish in her endowments to this yonng toan, and to almost physical

TIJE DAY AFTEK THE WEDDING.

27

perfection was added intellect of a high order, which would make its mark, should he be able to defy the storms which now threatened him. lie was tall, finely propor tioned, with an intellectual brow, deep blue eyes, a nose slightly Romai^ florid complexion, and black hair, while a moustache and imperial of the same color gave him a distingue and rather foreign air. lie was warm-hearted and impulsive, generous and chivalrous, fashionable in. his dress without being foppish, arid in his manners combined an ease and grace which only comes with gentle blood ancj, polished associations. He was an, avowed friend and an open enemy, and it is not strange that men as well as women loved him, for it did the soul good to contemplate such a magnificent specimen of the human race. Upon looking into his clear blue eyes, and listening to his merry, ringing laugh, you felt quite sure that only the better impulses of his nature had been called into play, while the baser element, if there was any, had been kept in check by a will which could be both as inflexible as iron and as gentle >as a woman's. The pur ple twilight deepened into a darker hue, the silver cres cent hung suspended in the sky, one or two stars came tripping shyly forth, and the two lovers walked silently along, happy in each other's presence--at least, if'not happy, satisfied.
Having reached The Terraces, Clifford sought a re tired spot where they would be free from intrusion, and being fatigued with the long walk, Gertrude seated her self upon a grassy mound beneath an aged oak, where they were partially concealed by the vines which hung around them an natural festoons.
vj

28

THE DAT AFTEE TIIE WEDDING.

Throwing himself gracefully at her feet,Clifford looked

np at her and said :

* Gertrude,J do Yv OU love me ? " u Better than my own soul," was the earnest reply of

this impassioned girl.

"TVTiat does love mean?" he answered, probing the

heart whicluhe read but too well.

" It means everything ! It means to give yonr life in

to the keeping of another, and to think it happiness to

have no will but his ! It means that there are but two

human beings- in the, universe, and that they are the

world to each other! It means to live for each other, and

if need be, to die for each other! " and her whole being

was aglow with the feelings which inspired these words.

" You answer well." said the unhappy lover, and it re

quired no small effort on his part to keep from betraying

the response which echoed in his own heart at these

words,

" Because I feel it! "

u Bat this love of yours is a verr selfish thing. Ger-

9

m>



trade."

* Of coarse its sclfeh ! "

"It thinks only of the gratification of its own desires,"

^ And very naturally, Clifford, for its desires are so ex

acting and so all-absorbing, there's no time left to^fhink

of anything else;" and they both smiled at the truth of the

picture.

Clifford had undertaken a difficult rote in attempting

to torn Gertrude's thoughts into a different channel, but

he managed his subject adroitly, for he proceeded skil

fully. *

Those

acts

are

not

alwavs

the

most

heroic

which

.

are so accounted by the world, and could we look more

THE DAY AFTEK THE WEDDESO.

29

closely into men's lives, we would be amazed at the valor

ous deeds there recorded, as we would be forced to ac

knowledge that it sometimes takes more courage to live

in the performance of life's duties, than it does to die.

If. Clifford Troup had had no feeling in the matter, how

easy his task had been, but considering that he loved as

deeply and as truly as Gertrude did, his conduct will

justly place him in the front ranks of heroism. After a

fe\v moments of silence in which he seemed nerving him

self, for the last charge, he said:

" How different human love is from God's love!"

" Ii> what particular ? "

" Human love means self-indulrence. self-gratification.

O

7

O

God's love means sacrifice."

" Sacrifice ! " repeated Gertrude; and a shudder crept

through her, as her woman's penetration comprehended

all that this word was intended to convey.

u Tell me what you mean, Clifford i " came with appre

hensions which conld not be concealed.

" I mean, Gertrude, that if mv love were about to brin

*

^

'

*"

some great calamity upon your mother, that for her sake

a:.d VVCT sake I should endeavor to control it--I mean,

that if some cmel fate demanded our separation, that I

would help you to bear it."

The words were uttered as if by force, and well we

kno;v they were. Gertrude did not faint, or weep, or

make any outward demonstration of what she was suffer

ing, but sat as immovably as if turning to stone. The

moon shone full in her face, and as Clifford reclined in

the shadow he studied its every feature; but familiar as

he was with its every lineament, he was not able to probe

THE DA r AFTEE THE WEDPOTG.

her tboos&ts. ^Vhlle he crazed, the nx>v-d her bead

+--

C7

'

^

slovrlv

upi

and

down, "

and

said

absent! v. *-

a?

if

to

herself:

" I understand."

" An<l are you readv to make the BacriSee--are vou ready to helpi me? r Bat he -waited lons~r and anxionslv. for an answer, fur she whom he addressed seemed petri

fied as she ~ras&ed under the rod/" and it was now

evident

that

bv

the

strong *.-,

will

she

TX.^sessed.
i

she

was

qnietly nerving herself for the <rreat contest of her life.

Clifford watched her with painful interest, for he had

never seen her in soch a mood before, and consequently

swaaids ,i7itnaalotosenewwhahtictho

think. spoke

ofArteslaigstn,'attniornninatn*r-d

to him. she despair:

u Mv lova has made me powerless--I have no will bat

yours--" do wI Vith me as yon wish.^

The effort and the words were too much for her; the

strong resolutions of a moment before were g^iie, and

she was now only a trembling, weeping, blighted woman.

Bat those tears were wept upon a heart which was true

as her own; for scarcely had the last words left her lips,

when Clifford sprang to her side and folded her drooping

head upon his breast. He was almost powerless himself;

and feeling that what little strength he had was fast

going from him^he hurried to- say:

"Gertrude', I can never leave you if yon weep. Will

yon not dry your tears \ "Will you not try and be strong

for my sake \ "

u Dry your tears and be strong! " Two difficult things

for a woman to do when her love is alx>ut to be sacri

ficed. But this gentle girl had some stern material in

Ler, and presently she raised her head, and said :

" For your sake, I will try!"

r

THZ DAY AJTER THE WEDDOfG.

~ That's my brave girl." said Clifford, with the pride

and love he could not conceal.

" And now. Gertrude, since yon- can be strong, from

YOTir liijs must come the final decision, Most I marrr

*

-

<



this fortune, and save mv father, or must I maiTY YOU,

*

*

V

>

see my father dragged to jail \ ~

Is it so bad as that ? "*'

It is ! "

'

An:-ther moment of painful suspense, and fearing her

resolution might waver, he said in a whisper :

" Wonld you see your mother dragged to jail for your

love ?"

u OD, God I no--save your father, and leave me to

die; r and with these words she Rank- weeping upon the

grass.

\

THE LAST APPEAL.

CHAPTER IV.

THE LAST APPEAL,

X
[OTITEIw, it is impossible for me to yield to

father's wishes on the subject of this marriage,

and the more I think of it the more convinced

do I become that I can never ask Virginia Dearin<r to be

C--

{_/

my wife. What is to be done ?"

"Alas! mv bov, I know not."

*

* '

" Have you no influence with father ? "

" I am afraid to say," came with a sigh and an expres

sion of donbt.

" Does he not love you ? "

" I hope so," she answered, with quivering lips.

" Does he not love your clrildreii ?"

u I trust s/)," was the uncertain reply ; for when she re

membered how he was sacrificing those children one by

one, for money, she was forced to distrust his paternal

feelings.

The daughters who had married husbands of his choosO
ing, were mistresses of handsome establishments, which

failed

to

satisfy .

the

hunger \-.

in

their hearts, and '

now

the

only son, the pride and the hope of the house, was to be im

molated upon the altar of 3tlammon. It was not strange

that the mothers heart beat warmer for her last-born, for

he was so tender and s<> loving, combining in his beautiful

iiat'ire the sreutleness of woman with the bravervof man.

d-

tr'

Twenty-three summers had passed lightly over his head,

and from the first moment his childish lips could lisp, they

THE LAST APPEAL.

6-5

had never uttered any but words of affection for her who gave him birth. Although her hair was tinged with gray, and her face wore that &ad and chastened expression which comes of suffering, Mrs. Troup was still beautiful, and the likeness between herself and son was striking. An nnreut letter from his father brought Clifford in hate to the " Manor..*' the grand old hou&e of his ancestors, which was situated near the city of M----, and it was here that the present interview took place between his mother and himself. Upon his arrival his father did not only entreat but insisted that he should consummate his marriage with Miss Dearing at the earliest possible moment. Clifford assured him that his engagement with the youn^ lady had been broken by mutual consent, and that he doubted if she would renew it. To his surprise his father then in formed him that the family expected him t-> renew his suit, and that he must do it, as thev were prepared to answer in the affirmative. Driven to desperation by this most unnatural demand of his father, in the last ex tremity, Clifford sought his mother," as children ever will, knowing only too well that when all the world forsakes, she clings the closer. Her love, which brightens pnspefity and soothes adversity, is ever the same, and nothing bnt the -love of God can surpass it Mrs. Troup was in th'e "East room," as they called it, the morning that Clifford sought her, and as he walked back and forth the room in a state of agitation which was oblivious of everything bnt his own sorrows, she sat gazing ont upon the sloping lawn, and her heart ached at the bare thought of parting with their cherished home. This feeling was only mo mentary though; for, watching her boy with painful in terest and remembering the unhappiness of her other

THE LAST APPEAL.

children, she felt that she would gladly walk forth from

the " Manor" a beggar and die of starvation, if that

4_^X_s

*

could avert the blow of misery which seemed to await

them alL Since the last words, a wretched and pro

longed silence had fallen upon mother and son, and no

longer able to control her distracted feelings, Mrs. Troup

bnried her face in her hands, her head sank upon a table

by which she sat, and she wept. The low sobs aroused

Clifford, and softly approaching, he folded her in his

arms, and laying her head upon his breast, said: u My

poor mother!"

He stroked her gray hair, and then, as his whole being

trembled with indignation, added :

"Mother, if father still insists upon this marriage, he

must be a demon!"

Quickly raising her head, and casting him from her,

she said haughtily:

" Clifford!! I blush to know that I have reared a son

who can speak in such disrespectful terms of his father

and my husband. Do not again utter such words as these

in my presence, even if your heart can harbor such

thoughts."

Kneeling at her feet, he pressed her soft white hand to

hia lips, and with that chivalry which characterized the

race, said:

u Forgive me, dear mother, and I will never so forget

myself again. But, mother, will you not plead with

father for me ? I cannot marry Virginia Bearing, for I

love another, and to her my honor as a man and your

son are pledged. Would you have m_e be so dishonora

ble as to break my word with a woman ? "

" No, my son, no; but what can I do I "

THE LAST APPEAL.

" Go to my father; make one last appeal; pray to him;

beg him to renounce this cruel plan, for it will not onlv

O

'

C

"

wreck my happiness, but hers, who is the ranocent victim,

of this fiendish scheme."

\

Burying his face in his mother's lap, his tears mingled

with hers, and the sight would have melted any heart

save that of the weak, selfish man who stood in the

doorway looking on and listening to the last uttered



^D

^2

words of his son. Ilis face was distorted with passion, for

his tyranny was exacting, and his, will knew'no opposition.

" That father to whom you would send your mother,

and the instigator * of this fiendish scheme,' is here. At

tend to your own^>usiness like a man and a Troup should

do!" and entering he seated himself, beside the table.

Taking up a paper he pretended to be reading, but the

sheet trembled so, it was evident his indifference was only

feigned. Both Mrs. Tronp and Clifford were startled by

this unexpected interruption, for at breakfast Mr. Troup

had announced the determination of going into the city,

which was some twelve miles awav. and they both be-

'



lieved him gone. Arising slowly and remaining quiet for

a few moments, as if collecting all his forces, Clifford

stood before his father, and in a straightforward manly

way, said :

" Since it is your desire, sir, that I attend to my own

business, I repeat what I said at our interview last night.

I ask you once more to withdraw the request which

makes it a filial duty for me to pay my addresses to Miss

Bearing."

His manner ^as dignified and respectful, filling the

father's breast with pride, and the mother's heart with

anxiety.

36

THE LAST APPEAL.

Returning the fearless glance of his boy, Mr. Troup

said:

" It is too late; Miss Dearing expects yon to-day. I

made the appointment for yon to call."

" It is cruel injustice to both of us I I do not love her,

and we both will be miserable!"

" Do not love her ? " sneered the father. " Who said

anything about love ? Not I, surely ! Love will not raise

the mortgage from this estate, or give us back our for

mer luxury. Let fools and women rave about love, but

as a man you must understand that it is something to be

enjoyed only when you have plenty of money and noth

ing else to do."

*,

"Oh, Clifford," came in a heart-broken groan from the

wife whom he had once professed to love, as his irreverent

words brought her to her feet. Pain and apprehension

and suffering were depicted in her face, and sinking again

into her seat, she thought death would be preferable to

outliving the affections of her husband.

Outraged by these words, -which sounded like blas

phemy to him, Clifford advanced to his father, and lean

ing over him, said in a low whisper which could not reach

his mother's ears: "Did YOU not love my mother when

*t

V

you asked her to become your wife ? "

"I did!"

" Do you not love her now 1 " I do ! " " The words just uttered by you, then, were cruel and uncalled for, and will long be remembered by me as the teachings of one whom God has commanded me to honor." Writhing under this well-merited lash, >Mr. Troup, with an attempt at concealing his anger, said courteously :

THE LAST APPEAL.

37

" You forget that it is neither "becoming nor respectful

for a son to reprove his father ; " then rising, as if to go^

he said, "Time is precious to me, as Lhavc business to

attend to. But allow me to ask, before going, what you

intend to do, Clifford ? Will YOU marrv Miss Dearinir ? "

*

*'

v

*_

" Father, 1 cannot, without being" a dishonored man. I

'

'

"

am eiii~jacored to another. I love but one woman in the

world, and she alone will I marry/ ! "

Anoo'er and consternation were both visible in the face

of Mr. Troup, as he said sneeringly :

" And may I ask who this unknown, but honored (?) in-

/

!

\,

dividual is ? She must be a paragon among women, to

have aroused such deep and true devotion in the breast of

the fastidious (?) Clifford Troup, Jr."

Clifford remained silent under these tannts, which he

would not have allowed from any other man, and his

father proceeded :

" Miss Dearing is pretty, wealthy, and well connected ;

and I sayi/ aS^ain./ Clifford,3 that *y our cherished idol must be a Queen among the roses to so enchain your fancy ! "

His sneers were as graceful as his ~bon mots, and to his

surprise, his son answered his last taunt by saying, " She

is a veritable queen, sir, for she is queen of my heart,

and ever will be."

" May I ask the name of this angelic creature ? " sneer-

" When you can do so, sir, with the respect due a lady from a gentleman," answered the son, imitating well the haughty manner of his father.
" My son ! " was the gentle rebuke of his mother ; but not noticing her interference, Mr. Troup said in quite a different tone :

38

THE LAST APPEAL.

" Clifford, may I ask again the name of the lady to

whom you are engaged I "

/

u Certainly, "sir," was the ready and courteous reply

" Miss Gertrude Lawrence."

" What is her father ?"

" lie is dead, sir! He was Mr. Augustus Lawrence a

son of Judge Lawrence, and, I believe, a classmate of

yours."

" Oh yes I remember Gus Lawrence well, a drunken

vagabond, a disgrace to his family and country, who ended

his worthless career by marrying an overseer's daughter."

" An overseer's daughter ?" exclaimed Clifford. " I

think not, sir. lie was a plain farmer, but not an over

seer."

" Well, what's the difference? It's one and the same

unless they've got money. Money, you know, hides a

multitude of faults, as well as a person's lineage. What

of these people ? Are they rich ?"

"I think not, sir,'^ was the reluctant answer. " *

" They must have something, or else how do they

live ?"

Clifford did not reply, for although he saw no disgrace

in the occupation of Mrs. Lawrence, he knew that his

father would look at it in a verv different licrht, and he

*/

c^ >

even feared the opinion of his aristocratic mother.

" Tell me, Clifford, how do these people live ? "

a By honest labor, sir I " was the manly reply.

" And what may that honest labor be ?"

" Dress-making, sir."

"Dress-making?" exclaimed Mr. Troup; and, rising

from his chair, he walked up and down the floor in a rage.

" Dress-making, did you say ? What, a Troup marry the

THE LAST APPEAL.

39

granddaughter of an overseer, and the daughter of a

dress-maker?" and regarding his son with scorn and aver

sion, he wondered how his aristocratic blood could flow

in the veins of such a creature.

" Why not, sir, if he loves her, and if she is a good

and noblewoman, such as I know Miss Lawrence to be'4 "

asked Clifford fearlessly. V U I would sooner follow .you to your grave, than hatfe

* you----;" but liis words were cut short by Mrs. Troup,

who sprang to his side, and placing her hand across his

lips, said:

x

" Oh no, Clifford--my husband--do not speak such

wicked words."

" And I wo aid-sooner be laid in my grave than marry

Virginia Deariug," said Clifford excitedly. " I will go to

her; I will tell her I do not love her; I will tell her that

she is the innocent victim of a man who would sell his

soul to the devil for monev : I will tell her--"

V

/

" Oh, Clifford, do not talk thus. Forbear, I beseech

you;" and his mother sank at his feet.

" Mother, I must speak, and if you would not hear me,

yon must leave." Then turning to his father, who was

standing aghast at this unexpected and defiant outburst,

he continued : " I will tell her that her money is all that

is wanted, and that she and I will be the miserable and

lifelong victims of an ill-assorted marriage. Having told

her this, I will beseech her to save us both from this liv ing hell."

" My son, my son, if you love your mother, be silent."

"Would you be silent when the gates of perdition

were closing upon you, and you thought there was any

means of escape ? "

TIIE LAST APPEAL.
Leaving her excited and distracted boy, she crossed the room, and sinking at the feet of her husband, said : J "Clifford, is there no alternative but this?" and her tears- flowed so that she could scarcely speak.
" Xone," was the single word that fell upon her ears, as the death sentence falls upon the heart of some victim doomed to die.
" Clifford, think--by the memory of our early days, those days when we were all the world to each other;--by the memory of those happy years which are gone, can you not save our bov from the sin and misery of niarry hif~f one he does not love ?"
Clifford sat across the room with his head bowed upon his hands; bnt no word escaped him, and his strong f/ame trembled as the sturdy oak when shaken by the tempest. Recalling those youthful days of love and pleasure, which not even the demon of money could entirely obliterate, the obdurate heart of the father was at last touched by the appeal of her who had once been fondly loved, and raising her tear-stained face, he said solemnly: "Mary, yon are both wife and mother; by the memory of those happy days, decide between your husband and your son."
Her head sank, her tears flowed afresh, and a groan of despair escaped her, as she thought of the difficult task these words imposed. She .did not reply, and her husband said again:
" Decide, Mary, whether it shall be a jail for me, or happiness for your son."
With terror in her face she said : "It is not possible that your creditors will allow you to be imprisoned ?"
" It is not only possible, but certain, unless some pay ments are made on this mortgage. I do not ask anything

THE LAST APPEAL.

41

BO dreadful of Clifford: I only ask him to marry a very

charming woman who loves him, and through whose

means he will be enabled to rescue his father from dis

honor, and to save the family-seat from the vile tread of

vulgar creditors. This love which he now feels for Ger

trude Lawrence is a fierce flame which will soon-barn

out, as all such passions do, and then lie will learn to love

the gentle girl whom I would have him marry."

<_T*

^-r

*

u Xever ! " said the son to himself.

" But, Clifford," pursued the mother, " I would rather

give up the ' Manor 5 >te> our creditors, and go forth a beg

gar, than knowingly and willingly sacrifice the happiness

of one of my children. Let's give up everything and be

gin life anew. What if it is as paupers ? I should wel

come the daily labor of a menial, if by so doing our

children could be happy."

But the mere idea of being a pauper strengthened the

false pride which-made paternal love a secondary thing,

and the father said :

\

" Marv, yon know not what you sav. Your words are

v7 v

v

v

those of a mother whose love outweighs her judgment.

Your son sympathizes with you ; I hope he will always do

so,'

for

*Y' OU

will

have

need

of

it, /

when

friends

and

fortune

are gone, and your husband lies in jail." The picture

was a gloomy one, and as the last ray of hope fled, the

wife, in a low despairing cry, said:

" God help us."

Some little time passed, when suddenly a new thought

struck the father. Slipping his arm around the waist of

his wife, he assisted her from where she had sank upon

the floor, and raising her to her feet, they crossed the

room to where their boy sat.

42

THE LAST APPEAL.

Clifford 1" At the sound of his namehe too arose, for these people were scrupulously courteous, and no amount of suffering could make the sou forget the respect due his parents. They now stood very near each other, the father support ing the mother, and the son resting one hand gracefully upon the chair from which he had arisen. The father was grand in his proportions and looked as if born to command; the mother, although her form was drooping and her face tear-stained, was elegant and graceful; and the son was a fit representative of the two--a worthy scion of noble ancestors. It was a touching picture, and one that will not be easily forgotten by those whp under stand and appreciate it in all its lights and shadows. Properly enough, \the boy, with his youthful face, stood a little in the foreground,* and the shadow which his body cast upon the two figures in the background would grow deeper and blacker as the years advanced, unless these two figures should abandon their present posi tion. After a few moments of silence, Mr. Troup said : " Clifford, I made an appointment for you to call at 'Mossy Creek,' to-day at twelve. It is now near the hour. Will you go?" The mother's heart beat anxiously as she watched her son, and then, looking his father straight in the eyes, he said: " Do you desire it \ " * I do."
" And you still wish, after all that has been said, that this marriage shall take place ? "
I do."

THE LAST APPEAL.
" Dishonor with one woman is not dishonor with an other, according to your code of ethics ?"
" Circumstances alter cases," was the evasive reply; and listening to this painful conversation, the poor mother's heart was tortured beyond description. An ominous si lence, like that dead calm which precedes the storm, pre vailed for a few seconds, and then, like the thunder-clap which is the signal for all Heaven's artillery to opn fire, these words broke upon the stillness:
" Thctiy my ruin be upon your head ! " " A shriek from his mother pierced his heart afresh, and rushing from the house like a madman, the son mounted a horse which was waiting for him, and as he flew across the park in the direction of " Mossy Creek," Mrs. Troup lay fainting in her husband's arms.

CHAPTER V.

DONE! !!

IES! it was done!

The engagement was renewed, the day for the

marriage appointed, and two months hence the

nuptials would be celebrated. Two more young lives

wonld begin the journey of life wrong, and while this is

nothing new, it is to be regretted all the same. " Honor

^thyj father and thyJ mother,7 that thv. dav. s inav. be lonsrr- in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee/Mias been

handed down to us through all the ages since the laws

Tere delivered to Moses amid the thunders of Sinai. Bat

does this mean that we are to sin in obeying this com

mand ? Does it mean that we are to act in direct viola

tion of the laws implanted in our' uatnre by Jehovah

Himself? True, God demands sacrifices, but they are

very different ones from those prescribed by man, and we

do not think the desecration of the marriage-rite, or obe

dience to a father's wicked desires, are included in the

obligations imposed by the fifth commandment.

" Noblezse oblige " was the motto upon the ancient seal

c7

1

of the Troups, and reared as they had ever been to re

gard death itself preferable to the sacrifice of family

honor and glory, they thought nothing of setting aside ~

God's laws, as men frequently do for their own con

venience. So far, Clifford, Jr., was an exception to this

false pride; but his father's idea was that the u Troup

DONE!! !

dv nas^v must be sustained,' thougch the heavens should
fall."

Iii thinking of it afterwards, Clifford wondered how it

*--

'

f

was possible for him to have offered himself to Miss

Bearing, when his heart belonged wholly to another;

and perchance, there are others wh<se eyes will fall upon

this page who will ask themselves the same question.

Strange, isn't it, that men can ever srain their own consent, o~r can ever feel called upon' by an\ y circumstances,

to sacrifice a woman's happiness, simply because custom

ha? placed them in a position where they can \ Let those

wh-t are tempted by motives of interest or convenience,

but who have not yet entered upon this uncertain road,

reflect, and if not too late, abandon a path which will

surely lead to misery, and perhaps to excesses which shall

etnd in everlasting- ruin. While Clifford and Virg- inia

talked, the wretched hours drafrsred bv; and little carjnj

^v--

*'

O

where they were passed so they went, the accepted lover (t}

remained to dinner, because Mr. and Mrs. Dearing said

he must. For davs he had been under a fearful excite.
ment--fr two nights past he had not slept. The day

just .ne v^as: a iierv crucible--mind and bodv were ex-

*

^-

.

.

hansted, and as men. have done before, and will continue

\

to do to the end of time, he sought relief in the sparkling,

>

*_

1

O

wine. Thus, one error induces another, and where thev

*

.

shall end, the future alone can tell. Mr. Dearing's

cellars were famous; and as he insisted upon Clifford's

trying first one brand, then another, he rejoiced in his

heart to find that his future son-in-law was such a co/i-

nou&ur in the matter under discussion. Could men see

the serpent that lies coiled in the sparkling beverage,

they surely would shrink with horror from either tasting

46

DOXE !!!

or tempting their fellow-creatures with snch potent

poison. Bnt alas! they fail to see it until it is too late ;

they know not what they do, and thus do they gratify

their appetites at the risk of losing their souls. Accus

tomed as he fyad ever been to the dangerous habit of

drinking wine daily. Clifford was often spoken of as

" that model young man, who never took too much/'

Bat

from

that

fatal

dav *

when

the

errors

of

a

lifetime

be-

gan, we fear that temperance could no longer be included

amongst his virtues. The champagne exhilarated him.

He had never been so brilliant, and the nnsnspecting

family regarded him with feelings of pride. In the inno

cence of her heart, Virginia thought his gayety proceeded

from happiness, not knowing that the prisoned bird trills

forth its merriest lays as it frets itself to death against

the cruel wires of its cage.

Excusing himself immediately after dinner, Clifford

mounted his horse, and flew along the woodland path in

the gathering gloom. lie was wretched beyond concep

tion ; for the darkness which was settling upon his soul,

unlike that which followed the goddess of night in her

cheerless flight, would not be brightened by any rising

son on the morrow. Xo--the mantle of ni^ht had fallen CT
upon his young life, and unless God mercifully lifted it,

it would follow him to the grave. More distracted than

sane, he soon reached the " Manor/' and rushing up the

steps where his father sat, said in an excited tone, which

was dae to the wine:

"Father, it is done!"

" Bravo, my boy," said the father, arising and slapping

him on the shoulder. Then offering him his hand, he

said:

DONE!! !

47

; Let me be the first to congratulate you/' But the

extended hand was not noticed, and going down the gal-

lerv to where she sat alone in the spring-time twilight,

he threw himself at his mother'sTeet, and said, in a tone

of anguish:

" Mother, pray for me ! "

Folding her arms around his neck, she bent over him

and whispered:



*' God help yon, my boy."

The father stood looking at them in anger and amaze

ment. It was but a moment though; for the conscience

he had so outraged gave an uncomfortable twinge, and

entering the house, he locked himself in the library, as

was his custom when in trouble. Controlling~ himself by

a powerful effort, Clifford soon raised his head, and said

tenderl*v> :

i; Tororive me. mother! It is unmanly in me to distress

C?

J

*

you thus."
&

u 2s o, no, my boy; do not say so. Let me at least share

y<>nr sorrows, since it is all that is left me to do. Would

to God I could avert everv trouble from your life--how

m>

4

gc~rladlv,' how ea~gerly* would I do it!"

* I know it, my precious mother. But come--the die

is cast; it cannot be helped, and I must bear it like a

man. Let's go in. and while you pack my yalise, I will

speak to father, for I must leave by midnight in order to

catch the morninCg1 train." u Why so soon \ " asked the mother, leaning upon his

arm, as they walked around the gallery to the entrance.

u Because, mother, this place is hell to me I "

u Oh, Clifford ! The < Manor ' hell to yon ?"

u Xo, no, mother, but * Mossy Creek ;'" and seeing

48

DONE!!!

how pained she was, he said quickly : " I did not mean

what I said, for you know I lore the dear old i Manor.'

Have I not given my life for it ? "

" Clifford, if von would not kill me. do not talk so! '

l

v

*

and overcome by the despair and recklessness of her

child, she entered her chamber and threw herself upon a

lounge in a state bordering upon freiizy. Poor mothers!

how often are their hearts crucilied either for their chil

dren or b,,v them! Theirs is a double dutv ,; and Heaven help them to carry the heavy load.

Clifford sat by his mother and stroked her hair for a

little while, then whispering:

" Forgive me, mother," went softly from the room.

Her sobs followed him, and entering the dining-room, he

walked up to the sideboard and sought oblivion in heavy

draughts of wine. Happing at the library a few mo

ments after, he was admitted by his father, who

said, in his courtliest manner and with his blandest

smile:

u Come in, Clifford ; I am glad to see you."

"I hope you will pardon the intrusion, sir; but as I

leave to-niocfht~, I came to see if I could serve *vou in anv other way."

" Why"such haste?" V
" I have business which must be attended to, sir I"

" You are right, then, to go, for your Invdnezz (i) should

receive your first attention. But tell me, what are the

prospects for your nomination ?"

" All that could be desired," was the laconic reply.

u This is encouraging, and if you will consent to be

gnided by my advice, you will not only fill the place of

a State Legislator, hat in the halls of Congress yon will

DONE!!!

49

win back the laurels which have been snatched from your father's brow by trickery and treachery."
" My life 15 yours; I have given it for you--do with it
as you will."
Grasping the hand 'of his son, Mr. Troup said: " My noble boy, if I have given you a pang in the sac rifice you now make for me, rest assured future honors shall obliterate even the memory of it." "If that be possible," said Clifford, arising. Then, with a pressure of hands, a "good-by," a "God bless you," the son was gone, the father was left alone. . The parting between the mother and her boy was brief and painful, and the light of another day saw him going back to business--to love and to misery.
3

50

FLAYTSXJ WITH A TWO-EDGED fcWOED.

CHAPTER YL
PLATTSG "WITH A TWO-EDtiED SWOED.
|S it strange that the flower, overshadowe d by the oak, still seeks the sunlight ? Is it strange that the prisoner, shot in from the
bright world, turns to the one ray which lights his gloomy cell?
Upon his return to L----, Clifford made h his first duty to see Gertrude. Painful as the interview was% it had its pleasures too, and in their sympathy for each other, they were like two persons walking upon the brink of a precipice, Notwithstanding Clifford's attempt to prepare her for the fatal news, Gertrude had hoped mneh from the last appeal, which she knew he had gone to make, and had only thought of his marriage with another as of something too horrible to contemplate. She did not be lieve it possible, and banished the idea instantly when ever it presented itself. Woman-like, she fancied her deep devotion could rescue her lover from any fate, fail ing to consider that a father's cruel exactions and family pride could outweigh that love and crush it beneath the demands of selfishness, and bnry it under the plea of filial obligation. So the blow was as unexpected as if no warning voice had been raised to admonish; and thus, let sorrows ever come, for did we anticipate, then realize all that is in store for us, life would be unendurable.
For a long time Gertrude sat weeping as if her life

PLATTSTG WITH A TWO-EDGED 5WORD.

51

would expend itself in sobs. Clifford could not console,

for his own heart was bleeding at every pore, and in si

lent misery he walked slowly back and forth the room.

*

*

See! two crosses erected^y^uman cruelty and human

in justice. Duty is inscribed npon one. Necessity npon

the other. The victims are a young man and a voting

woman ; the executioner--a father.

They go forth' to the crucifixion with bleeding hearts,

and one day that blood shall cry for revenge, and in tliat

dav the father will crv unto the mountains to hide him

+

*

from the wrath of his accusers.

At length, seating himself beside her. Clifford said :

c; Gertrude, yon will drive me to desperation, if you do

not control yourself." Xo reply came to sustain him in

his painful duty, but only fresh sobs to tear his wounded

heart, A few minutes passed, and then he said again:

" Gertrude, do you not, can you not comprehend that this

marriage which is forced npon me is even more painful

to me than to you ? "

r

>

For an instant, the tears stopped in their briny bed,

and with quivering lips Gertrude said, with that unrea

sonable persistency for which women are sometimes justly

noted:

" Then, why do you marry her ? "

Regarding her with painful surprise, and wondering

how she could forget, even for a moment, all that he

had told her of the unfortunate circumstances which

drove him to this step, Clifford said: "Must I tell you

again that my father exacts it, not only to save him from

ruin, but as a filial duty which I owe him."

With flashing eye, Gertrude said hastily :

" I have a contempt for a man who thus tamely sub-

52

PIATLNG WITH IA- TWO-EDGED SWOKD.

mits.to the authority of any other man, even though that other be his father."
The flush of anger was upon her brow, and Clifford re garded her in amazement as she added :
" Every man should be his own master 1 " K"o word left his lips at this cruel and uncalled-for re tort, and burying his face in his hands, he strove to hide the pain which no language could express. Then an agonized groan betrayed what he felt but would not speak. Gertrude regarded him in silence. She regretted her rash words, but for the moment, pride kept her lips sealed- However, the tenderness of her woman's nature soon asserted itself, and as she could not bear to witness the suffering of one so dearly loved, she laid her hand upon his shoulder, and bending over until her lips almost touched his cheek, said, in a low, sweet voice: Clifford, forgive me!" / As forgiveness is a Divine attribute, so is it only found in God-like natures among men ; and with his usual mag nanimity Clifford looked up quickly, and folding his pretty suitor to his heart, said: 66 Thus do I forgive you;" and he kissed her ruby lips. Do not be shocked at what the rash lover did, for no matter how dishonorable it may appear when tested by the cold light of propriety, it nevertheless occurred, and is true to nature, notwithstanding all assertions to the con trary. And besides, we are not writing about what peo ple ought to do, but about what they do--recording their weaknesses as well as their strength. Men may talk about honor and duty and about flying from those they love .when it is crime to linger, but point out the man who erer did it, and we*will show you the woman who never

PLAYING WITH A TWO-EDGED STTOED.

53

listened to lore's insidious language, when she felt and knew that by so doing she was outraging the laws of proprietv and morality. Inclination sometimes conquers duty, and this is not so rare an occurrence as we would have each other believe. Is it not a strange delusion of the brain which makes men fancy/ that thev> are honest and upright in the sight of the world, when they most acknowledge in secret that God knows how impure are both their motives and their actions ?
And this seems still stranger when men know that they must judge each other from their own stand-point, and what they themselves would do under similar circum stances. But let us stop a moment, and ask if they do it i No, indeed!--for what is latitude and charity for one's self,/ is dishonor and crime in another. "We are commanded to " love our neighbor as ourself "--who does it ? The mle\ in tin's world is to love yourself and hate your neighbor--or at least to be indifferent to him; and let "no man say to the contrary, unless he can bare his heart to the inspection of One whom he cannot de ceive. So, let no man say that Clifford Troup acted unnatorallf", when, in a moment of impulse, he folded to his heart and kissed the woman whom he loved as he did his own soul. There was no crime in the action ; for crime must be premeditated, and of all men in the world, none would appreciate the loyalty due another more implicitly than Clifford Troup, when the hour should arrive in which passion would be under the dominion of judg ment. For the instant he was conquered by impulse, and before men shall raise their carping tongnes to denounce his conduct as dishonorable, let them ask themselves how they would act in a similar situation. Don't smile to

54

PLATING WiTii A TWO-EDGED 6WOBD.

yourself and say, " I would have done as he did," and

then say to the world, " He was a villain !" If he was a

villain, he has a great deal of respectable company, for

ninety-nine out of a hundred men would have acted just

as he did; and remember, that no matter how much so

ciety may applaud your virtuous denunciations, the mo

J

*

LA

J

'f

ment yonr back is turned, your best (?j friend will laugh

derisively, and say, "Pity he doesn't practise as well

as preach." A great inconsistency here-below, is, that

immoral men exact the highest standard of virtue from

their neighbors. Of course, virtue is a good thing to

have in the world, bat very inconvenient except for one's

friends. Thus, censure coming from the most censurable,

charity comes alone from those few who, by their blame

less lives, are the only ones who have a right to judge

heir fellow-men. And why is this ? It is because these

men look frequently into their own hearts--they walk

with God--they do not endeavor to deceive either Him

or themselves, and they have gained their own consent to

acknowledge that naturally their hearts are vile. This is

the beginning of reformation, and until men confess their

wickedness they will never have the least desire to do

better. But remember, we do not defend the conduct

of Clifford Troup, but we do ask for him that charity

which we all exercise towards ourselves. Fearlessly, and

in the fear of God, with human nature for our standard,

we propose to write the truth, according to our under-

. standing of what the truth is. We prQjpose to lay bare

the inner-workings of men's hearts as they daily appear

to us; and whoever expects to find human beings idealized

into saints, must look elsewhere than in these pages ; for

we do not belong to that complacent, hypocritical school

PLAYING WITH A TWO-EDGED SWORD.

55

of writers, who write for the pleasure of encouraging somebody's pet sin, or for the purpose of telling people how they can daily violate the ten commandments, and then go to heaven. Two or three persons have said. " Why don't you write of pure people?--why don't you have your characters without a blemish I" We answered, " Because we should have to go to heaven to get them."
The interrogoators were dreadfullv shocked, and seemed to have forgotten that Christ said : " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." And when we remem ber that the angels are not pure enough to gaze upon the face of the mighty Jehovah except when veiled, we do not think we have placed our standard of purity too high. If men had been angels, the bloody tragedy upon Calvary would never have been enacted ': and wh*v do we ever forget that Christ said, " He came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance " ? Why do men re sent it and even grow angry, when told of their wicked ness ? We will tell you. It is because they are trying daily to harden their hearts more and more, so that they can lead a life of unlicensed freedom, without reproach of man or fear of God. We do not say that all men are vile, for our experience proves that there is some good in everybody, if we are not too blind to discover it; but at the same time there is room for improvement, and it can only come through a strict self-examination, and strength from above.
Clifford Troup sought Gertrude to tell her that they must part. It was a bitter task, and can be appreciated only by those who have reared an idol but to see it snatched from them forever. They loved each other be cause their natures were in perfect harmony. He had

56

'PLATSSQ- WITH A TWO-EDGED SWOED.

wooed her honorably, and .looked forward with bright anticipations to thsi time when he should make her his wie. It may be called the law of affinity, or anything else that _ is suitable; but one thing is certain--out of a host of beautiful and brilliant women, Clifford's heart had only warmed towards Gertrude, while from a throng of suitors she loved but him. The disappoint ment which had fallen upon them was hard to bear; it tested all their fortitude, and left their young hearts torn and bleeding. It was a solemn occasion, and the mutual sacrifice there made, would influence their future for good or eviL If men would only half appreciate how deeply love and matrimony affect their lives, there would be no need of divorce laws, for every home would be an Eden upon earth, and every nation would be more ele vated by the purity, the virtue, and the happiness of its people.
There was no disloyalty in Clifford's heart to Virginia Dearing, when ne went to pay a last visit to Gertrude; for he went as an honorable man, to explain to her the necessity of asking for a release from an honorable en gagement, which, until the night in question, had not been positively broken. But love was stronger than honor, and he lingered longer than honor required, and was guilty of acts which can only be pardoned upon the score of feeling, and the weakness of human nature. When he entered that house he believed himself strong enough to say "good-by," and to go there no more. Strong! Who is strong when battling with a great love? Then, men are but as the reeds with which the tempest toys, and plays, and bends and breaks! For the time they are powerless; for there is no slavery so perfect, no

PLAYING WITH A

SWORD.

57

tyranny so exacting, as love. It was growing late, but Clifford lingered, and poor Gertrude clung to him as if eternity were waiting to snatch him from her forever. In those few hours of painful bliss, he forgot pride, fame, honor, father, mother, betrothed, everything
lie only remembered that he was retreating into dark ness, while the gates of heaven were closing upon him. He only remembered that^life would henceforth be a liv ing: death to him.
t_^
Is it strange that he lingered ? Is he not to be for given, aye, and pitied ? They had actually been laugh ing, even as men will trifle with their souls upon the very brink of hell. But the clock told one, then two, and rising abruptly, as if he would tear himself away, Clifford said :
" Gertrude, I must go ! *> " Oh, no, no, no, Clifford. Do not leave me ! " and the frantic girl clung to him as a person will when the deathgrasp clutches some cherished one in its cruel embrace. Finally, comprehending that ;his honor no less than the reputation of her he loved demanded that he should leave, Clifford said, as if powerless to act for himself : " Gertrude, send me away !" Between her tears, sjie sa*d: "I cannot!" " Then I must tear~ myself away. Good-by;"" and snatching a hasty kiss, he reached the, door without daring to trust himself to look back. A moment more and all would have been over, but just then a cry of anguish said: "Clifford," and once again he returned to her from whom it was so hard to go.
" You'll come again ?" she asked pleadingly.

58

PLATING WITH A TWOEDGED 8WOED.

" I ought not," was the answer prompted by duty, while

the love-look in his eves told the struggle in his heart-.

*t

<_?^^

" But you will ?" urged the beautiful sorceress.

"Do not tempt me,Gertrude, to do what we both know

is wrong."

" But you will ?" she again pleaded, and his strength

was all gone, as he answered :

" Yes, darling;" and rushed from the house.

OF COUESE!

59

CHAPTER VII.

OF COUESE!

[S the days and weeks went by, and tjie fatal Lour

of separation drew nearer, Gertrude and Clifford

became more reckless in their desperate but

hopeless love. The weekly visit, which honor suggested

might be paid to a friend, soon became semi-, then tri

weekly, then daily, then twice day, and all uncon

sciously this infatuated pair found themselves lingering

at The Terraces, strolling in the moonlight, enjoying

silent conversations on the porch, exchanging rose-buds,

and indulging in all those delicious little nothings which

go to make up the sum totum of happiness for lovers.

For a time their misery would be forgotten, or if remem

bered, it would be only to give new zest to a love

which was becoming dangerous from its very intensity.

Thus will all passions conquer, when uncontrolled, and

he who expects to emerge from such a contest as this un

scathed, counts upon strength which no man possesses.

The Troups had taken special pains to speak often and

publicly of their son's approaching marriage with Virginia

Dearing, for the honorable father, with his usual sagacity,

fully comprehended that this would be the most effectual

means of silencing the insulting clamors of his impatient

creditors.

It

had

its

effect,i

and

for

the

first

time

in

manv **

months, Mr. Troup experienced what a relief it was not

to be harassed hourly and daily by pressing debts. The

60

or OOUBSE!

rumor was not slow in wending its way to L----, and as

the latest bit of news, it was discussed, with all its varia

tions, in the rooms of Mrs. Lawrence one day. Half a

dozen ladies had dropped in that morning apparently for

the purpose of debating the fashions; but Mrs. Lawrence

thought scandal took precedence in the conversation, as

she quietly listened to the dissection, in detail, of at least

half the village. She was fitting a dress for Mrs. C----,

when Mrs, B---- said :

" Have you heard the latest news ? "

All eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker, and

Mrs, G---- sai^:

" No. What is it ?"

" Why, ' they say'" [those invisible but sleepless report

ers] " that Clifford Troup is to be married very soon to

Virginia Dealing, the heiress! " for she was known by this

title all over the State.

u Why, you don't say so ? " said one.

a You don't tell me 1 " said another.

" Why, you amaze me ! " said a third; and exchanging

significant glances they all turned their eyes, in vulgar

interest, upon Mrs. Lawrence, for the whole town knew

of Clifford's devotion to her daughter.

r

They observed unanimously that her hands trembled--

that she dropped a pin or two, and that her face crim

soned at Mrs. B----'s announcement. She made no

comment, however, and after an awkward pause in the

conversation, Mrs. C----, who hated ever to hear of any

one's good fortune, said, with a curl of the lip:

" Better be born lucky than rick"

" But it doesn't seem that he considers himself lucky

or that he desires to be rich," said Mrs. B----; and as all

OF OOTTBSB!

,

61

eyes were turned .upon her in eager curiosity, she added, " for i they say' he doesn't love her, and that he is only marrying her to keep his father from ruin, and to raise the mortgage from the i Manor.' "
" So that's it," said Mrs. G----, and for the second time they all glanced at Mrs. Lawrence, who quietly proceeded with her work and said nothing.
" Oh, yes," said Mrs. C----, " I've heard people talk that way* before,j but show me one man who marries for love, and I'll show you forty-nine who marry for money."
" Oh, Mrs. C------, how intensely material ^ou are! " simpered the lisping Mrs. F----, who sat over in the cor ner.
"Material or whatever you choose to call it, I'm only telling a truth which may be applied to both sides of the^house," answered Mrs. C----, " for as a general rule, women much prefer jewels, handsome dresses, fine houses, fast horses and elegant carriages, to so much love; and men think it very comfortable to have a wife who can foot her own bills if need be, with a rich old father to back her in case of an emergency."
The chivalry of many men will enter a public protest against this attack upon them, but down in their hearts we suspect they will agree with Mrs. C---- in thinking it very nice to have a wife with an extra deposit at the bank.
" You are candid, at least, Mrs. C----," said one of the ladies.
" Yes, but I only say what other people think," re-' ,plied Mrs, C----.
" Judge not," said Mrs. JB----. " There now, I think that will do, Mrs.- C---- " said

62

OF COUBSE!

Mrs. Lawrence, as she completed the difficult task of fit ting a waist for her, and considering how much she had to be filled out in some places, and \aken in in others, it was no wonder that the poor dress-maker's heart misgave her when attempting to give satisfaction to such a lean(?) subject Stepping to the mirror and examining it in every detail, Mrs. C---- said, rather reluctantly, and as if not entirely satisfied:
" Yes, I suppose that will do." " Why, I think it fits perfectly," said Mrs. B----. " If you desire any alteration, point it out, and I will take pleasure in making the change," said Mrs. Lawrence with a quiet air of resignation. " Oh, no; that will do; " and with a shrug of the shoul ders she took the garment off and threw it impatiently upon a <&air; she was evidently dissatisfied, and if the truth must be told, it is donbtful whether an angel from heaven could have pleased her. Thus do persons profess ing to be ladies sometimes forget that those who labor for them have feelings as well as themselves. Politeness is so cheap and yet so rare! What a pity it can't be bought like commodities of necessity, for then, it is to be hoped, all men would have a share of it. But alas, money can never buy what must come alone from goodness of heart--a broad charity, and a desire to make every one happy. This, then, is the secret of true politeness--this, then, is the secret of its rarity. During this little side-, scene, the conversation had drifted into other channels, and after assisting Mrs. C---- with her toilette, Mrs. Lawrence took up the unoffending garment, when one of the ladies said to her: " The styles seem very little changed from last season."

OF COUBSE!

63

" Yes," she answered; and handing her some new en gravings, added: " even in these latest cuts there is noth ing particularly new."
" Xo, nothing but what we have had;" and with the exchange of some other trifling little nothings, the half dozen ladies went forth upon their mission of scattering and gathering, and Mrs. Lawrence was left alone. With a moan she sank down, and the hands which had so much to do fell listless at her side, as she realized, in all its com pleteness, the unhappy condition of her child. This, then, explained the late capriciousness and nervousness of Ger trude, and with a woman's quick perception, Mrs. La*wrence knew all the misery of her child's heart, without ever having been made its confidante. Ah! mothers, mothers! it is not enough that we must suffer ourselves, but we must share the sorrows of our offspring as no other bosom can, and this is the cruellest penalty of woman hood. To suffer for ourselves is nothing, but to see the blood of our darlings dripping from every pore; to feel that the light is going out of their young lives; to know that thevv are wretched--this is worse than death. It was now too late to remedy, but Mrs. Lawrence felt that some thing must be done- to avert any further calamity. The unexpected, and to her, distressing news, had so paralyzed her, that she was powerless either to tliink or act, and turning at last to her neglected work, sought relief in employment. It had also been a trying morning for Ger trude ; for she had been visiting some young friends, and turn where she would, they twitted her with her lover's early marriage.' Writhing under their taunts, yet laugh ing to conceal her real feelings, she at length, heart-sick . / and weary, dragged herself home, as the wounded hind

OF COUBSE!
hies her to her den, to die. How she wishedAQ those hours of tearless agony that she could lay her head in her mother's lap, and weep as she used to do in the days that were gone. ^ What a relief she thought it would be! But no--rather than bring censure upon her lover, or re proaches upon herself, she would bear her sorrow alone. Thus, while the daughter thought only of concealing her misery from her in whom she should have confided evervthingX\the mother thought only of how she could rescue her child from the dangerous meshes which seemed tight ening around her each moment. So the gulf was widen ing, and where there should have been but one heartthrob, the mother and daughter were as--strangers. Would to Heaven we could reach the hearts of all the girls in the world, and impress upon them the necessity of confiding in their parents, but more especially in their mothers, for here their safety lies. We would-oiot men have lived in vain, for that life would be spent to some purpose, which could enforce upon the minds of young women the importance of never doing aught which could not be sanctioned by their mothers and their God.
\

THE SAGE OF PLEASANT EETBEAT.

65

CHAPTER YIIL

THE SAGE OF "f PLEASA2fT RETREAT."

OXGKESS had just adjourned, and the HOD.

Reuben Hall, United States Senator, immedi

ately repaired to " Pleasant Retreat," his coun

try seat in Middle (^reorgia, with an unusual yearning for

its quiet and retirement. The session just effded had.

been a busy and an exciting one, and this far-seeing

statesman painfully comprehended that the feeling of

hatred between the sections was daily increasing. T^is

country was his pride, and loving it only next to his soul,

he regarded these unmistakable forebodings with sad ap

prehensions ; for it musf be remembered our story 'dates

back some thirty years a^o, when the conflict between the

r ft.

O

/

sections was assuming a formidable shape. Mr. llall was

sole

lord

and

master

of

his

old-fashioned

country farm.

house, which he would not ha ye exchanged for a palace;

and as he had neyer married, he was dependent for home

comforts upon the attentions of faithful and deyoted ser-

yants who ministered cheerfully to his few wants, for con

sidering everything superfluous except actual necessities,

he would allow them to do no more. The building was

a frame house, tfro stories hi^h on the front, with an ell

*

O

'

running back in the rear. Landing in the hall, were an

tique and winding stair-ways ; in the chambers were those

high-post bedsteads, reminding one of their great-grand-

66

THE SAGE OF PLEASANT EETEEAT.

mothers; and in every appointment of the quaint establish ment was to be found comfort, without any pretensions to luxury or iinery. There were blazing iires witli d< >ors wide open, in genuine Southern style, and any number of sleek, well-fed negroes and pet-dogs standing idly around the premises. In the lawn, the grand old oaks, which evoked one's reverence, had never been touched by the sacrilegious axe of the woodman, for the statesman loved nature more than art, and would never permit them to be disturbed. In one corner of the grounds stood a church, which the generosity of this great and good man erected for the worship of the honest, upright people who lived in his immediate neighborhood. Some persons said it spoiled the looks of the place, but to us it enhanced its interest, saying more eloquently than words could ever have done: "I acknowledge the existence of a God, whom I worship. Come thou and do likewise."
In the parlor were two or three family portraits, an en graving of the members of the Senate in their chamber at Washington, listening intently to a speech by one of the immortal triumvirate, Webster, and an engraving of one of Georgia's most brilliant sons; but generally speak ing, these bachelor quarters were destitute of those little decorations which bespeak not refinement so much as the presence of woman. In the ell of the house, which was separated from the main building by an open hall, were two rooms--library and bedroom, where the Sage lived; and there, when he was at home, not only were his doors wide open to all who came, but his warm, generous heart was ever ready with sympathy and consideration for his fellow-men. There words of wisdom fell from his lips for the young; words of comfort for the afflicted; words

THE SAGE OF PLEASANT BETREAT.

67

of consolation for the bereaved ; encouragement for the

stni^T2;linr; pity for the erring ; charity for all--no matter

_ O

~ / A

/

^7

.

whether they were high or low, rich or poor, white or

black, no human beinioj was excluded from a share in his

regard, for he scorned nothing which God had made. On

<-

O

the contrary, he considered it a privilege to do whatever

lay in his power for any and all who came within the

range of his circle. How beautiful is old age when toned

duwn and softened by the noble acts and charitable deeds

of a lifetime; and to those who knew Mr. Hall's inner

life, he was not more admired for his grand intellect, than

revered for his goodness of heart, for no matter how

plausible a man may be, he will never be able to impress

meu*s hearts when his own life is fa^se.

Above his study mantel hang' an enoravins; of Riche-

/

cj

O

O

lieu, which was alone in its glory. This picture was sug

gestive, for it showed the bent of the man's thoughts.

\_

*

O

/

who rarely did anything without a motive; and as the

great Cardinal loved France, so did this statesman love

Georgia. The life of Reuben Hall had been a rugged

one, and the fact that he sprang from obscurity, unaided,

into a Senator's chair, only demonstrated what grand

things a man of ability, of will and energy may achieve

in our glorious Republic. Here, thanks to our free in

stitutions, the most princely avenues are open to the

humblest: and if there be sneers for any, let them be be-

x

/

/ J

stowed upon those, who, being favored by birth and fort

une, can yet let the less fortunate outstrip them in the

race of life. Reuben Hall had studied and worked with

an energy which never flagged, sparing himself neither

by day nor night, no more than if he had been a ma

chine ; and it was no wonder that such unceasing labors

68

THE SAGE OF PLEASAJTT EETSElT.

made deep inroads upon a constitution naturally delicate,

and that now he was almost a walking shadow. So that,

although not quite fifty, his frame was attenuated, his

movements infirm, his complexion sallow, while his clas

sical features were as closely cut as if chiselled from

marble. His long, white hair was brushed back from a

broad, intellectual brow, and his black eves, which were

7

J

v

>

startling in their brilliancy, gave evidence of the immor

tality within, while they seemed gazing^ into the very

depths of one's souL They were eyes, which once seen,

were never forgotten, and by the magic of their power

made men with guilty consciences most uncomfortable,

lest they should penetrate their hidden secrets. A week

or so after his return home he was sitting in his bachelor

quarters, with " Rio," his favorite dog, dozing at his feet,

when his reverie was interrupted by the entrance of Paul

Maxwell, the son of an old friend in the village near by.

The young visitor was studying law with the Sage, and

coming in through the open doors unannounced, he said,

in his frank, hearty, manly way :

"Good-morning,* Mr. Hall! "

" Good-morning, Paul!" and extending his emaciated

hand, it was warmly grasped by his young friend.

" I brought your mail, sir, and hope I find you better,

this beautiful morning."

" Yes, I am better, Paul, but still Buffering from fatigue

of mind and body;" and he looked as if laboring under

depression of the whole nervous system.

" You tax your strength beyond its powers, sir; but

now that we have yon at 4 Pleasant Retreat' once more,

we will make you well before you leave us again."

But Mr. Hall made no reply to these kind words, for

THE SAGE OF PLEASANT RETREAT.

69

running his eye hastily over his numerous papers and letters, a certain handwriting arrested his attention. It was instantly recognized, although years had elapsed since he had seen it. "With trembling fingers he broke the seal, and read the following:

"L------, GA., May--, IS--.'

"Mr DEAR BROTHER:--With the old love beating warm as ever

in my heart for you, I "break through the silence which my own '

pride and obstinacy has imposed upon us. But, brother, I beg

that you will forgive me, for I am now conscious of having done

wrong, and God knows I have suffered deeply for it. I now have

a new trouble to enconnter, and remembering the good, kind heart

which beat in your bosom years ago, I hope I shall not appeal to

you in vain for counsel and sympathy. With no father or husband

to advise me, whom else should I seek but you ? My daughter,

Gertrude, has now grown into a beautiful woman, and lately has

j

formed a most disastrous attachment for a young lawyer in our

midst. The attachment is mutual: but the father of the young

man being heavily in debt, urges his son into a wealthy alliance, in

order to extricate himself from his financial troubles. Although

very unhappy at the proposed marriage, he yields to his father's

desires, leaving poor Gertrude the victim of love and disappoint

ment. She is terribly depressed, and melancholy beyond descrip

tion ; and I fear her health will be seriously injured, unless there

is some change. It is most unfortunate for her that the young man

lives in the village, and still insists upon visiting her, although his

marriage is near its celebration. I think perhaps, if I could send

or take her away, that it would be beneficial both to her health and

spirits. Will you advise me what to do ?

''

I

"Your Sister,

j

"MARGARET LAWRESCE,"

The estrangement, for which he was not responsible,

was forgotten, for all his numerous overtures of kindness
and assistance had been refused; there was an unusual

jfJ

70

THE SAGE OF PLEASANT BETBEAT.

flatter abont his heart, and a moisture in his eyes dimmed the sight of the statesman, who fancied he only loved his country. He forgot how grieved and almost angered he was at her for throwing herself away upon Gus Law rence--he forgot how she had almost scorned his attempts to-serve her in her destitution--he only remembered that slje was his sister, and that she was in trouble; and as the old love, which was but slumbering, burst forth once more, he took a pen and wrote her a hasty note. Turn ing then to his letters and papers, he examined them leisurely and indifferently; for memory was busy with the years that were gone, and the sad changes that had interTened made his heart heavy. His parents rested be neath the sod, his sisters and brothers were all gone but Margaret, and no matter what had been her past errors, she was forgiven; and in those moments of reflection he determined to be to her and hers, what he would ever have been, if permitted, a brother in spirit and in deed.

\

\

NOT NOW.

71

CHAPTER ESL

NOT NOW.

*

[TH feverish impatience, and in a state of uncpr-

tainty, Mrs. Lawrence awaited a reply to her let

ter, for remembering how she had almost scorned

her brothers every kindness, she was rather doubtful of

v

J

its reception. " It came earlier than could have been ex

pected, for the mails were slow in those days of staging ;

but the time seemed long, for suspense is worse than fatal

reality. She read it over and over again, although it

contained only the followinog :

" PLEASANT EFTRKAT," May --, IS--.

" DEAB M.A.RGASET : Come to me,J and brinc^rj Gertrude.

"Tour brother, "

Mrs. Lawrence was not surprised at its brevity, for she remembered her brother to be a man of few words, yet
s /
she could not doubt but that the welcome messenger came from a kind and sympathetic heart. Then, as mem ory drifted back to the happy days of their childhood, and the subsequent years of estrangement, the floodgates of her heart were opened, and she wept over the long train oi, shadowy events which had saddened her life. Indulging her tears but for a little while, she arose, and, with a mother's unwavering devotion, prepared some del
^ icacies for dinner, in the hope of tempting the appetite

72

NOT NOW.

of her unfortunate child. The quiet of the graveyard had fallen upon their once happy home, and Gertrude's merry song and gay laughter no longer echoed through the cosey little cottage. There were now only sighs and tears, and silence, and the wretched girl glided noiselessly about the house like a spectre. She was pale to ghastliness, and the dark circles beneath her eyes told a silent tale of suffering. The luxuries which her mother's kind ness had prepared were untasted, and after sipping some coffee, she quietly left the dining-room. Tearfully and sorrowfully Mrs, Lawrence looked after her, and as her heart was too full to eat, she too arose from the table without touching a morsel
Despite the advice and protestations of Mrs. Lawrence, Gertrude received Clifford daily, saying:
" It will be only for a little while, mother. Bear with me, for when Clifford is married, my life will be over."
No mother's heart could have resisted such an appeal as this, no matter how much her judgment disapproved what she consented to, and believing that Clifford loved her daughter as sincerely as she loved him, Mrs. Law rence thought it better to let them meet under her roof than perhaps clandestinely elsewhere, as lovers sometimes do. Thus seTen weeks of excruciating torture had passed over the heads of these two wretched young people, and on the day of final parting they were no more reconciled to, or prepared for it, than when the bell of necessity first tolled the knell of separation. It t will be a matter of surprise that Gertrude's pride did not prompt her to a different course, and some may say, " No girl of spirit would have acted as she did."
But it will not be the first time people have tried to de-

NOT NOW.

73

\

ceive their own hearts, nor will it be the last time that they will be reminded of the fact that love is stronger than pride. Besides, there is no shame in a pure love like this, and instead of condemning its victims, rather let us scorn the false sentiment which would teach us to crush a feeling which is God's chief attribute, and which He has seen n't to implant in our natures. The world considers Gertrnde jilted, and regards her with pity, if not contempt. But we, you and I, know better. "We know, that if there is truth in man, that she was loved as sincerely as she loved, and that she and her lover were but the creatures of unfortunate circumstances which forced them to do what they must, not what they would. Has no one ever been so situated before ? If not, life has been unusually kind to them, and they should have some little charity for those who have not been so fortunate. Pity the woman, and pity the man, for the crucible through whose scorching flames they were passing deserves our commis eration more than our censure. In their blind worship . they forgot that the Lord God is a jealous God,-Und made idols of each other, but to see the altar with its images shivered to atoms by the avenging hand of Him . whose laws- they had disobeyed.
Clifford had not borne the approaching separation with even such poor fortitude as Gertrude commanded, and his friends remarked that he was depressed and moody, and that, at times, his face was flushed and his manner excited. On several occasions he visited Gertrude with the odor of liquor on his breath, and when she remonstrated, he would say: " I wish that I could drink myself to death, or else drop dead at the altar. What have I now to live for ? All my hopes are blighted, all my ambition is gone,

74

NOT NOW.

and the future to me is one black page of misery and

necessity."

At length the final separation was over, and while Ger

trude abandoned herself to her grief, and Clifford went

to the marriage-feast as if to his funeral, the good citi

zens of L were in a delightful flutter over a bridal

party which was to be given by Judge Baker, the uncle

and law-partner of the groom. The invitations had been

issued the day before, everybody was invited, and this,

more than the last adieu, made Gertrude realize that it

would now be a crime to love where her heart went forth

in one wild bound like the surge dashing against the

shore. Having completed her household duties, Mrs.

Lawrence joined her daughter, and sitting beside her'on

the lounge where she was lying, said: " Darling, I have

a letter from your Uncle Keuben ! "

"Indeed! and what does he sav, after his loDr si

ft '

TM

lence ?"

u He says I must come to see him, and bring you ; and

I came to see if you would not like to go at once \ *?

u Xot now, mother! " with a sigh.

u Why not now, my darling ?"' asked the mother anx

iously.

" Because ," was the faltering and unfinished reply,

while the tears sprang to her eyes, and the blushes dyed

her pale cheeks.

"Because what, Gertrude?" asked the mother with

painful anxiety, as she regarded her child with fresh ap

prehension. u You are ill, my darling, and nothing would

do you so much good as change of air and scenes. Why

will yon not go, Gertrude? Tell me. Do not'conceal

anything from me."

NOT NOW.

75

Freighted, as the appeal was, with a mother's tears, it

had its effect, and looking up, Gertrude said :

" Because, mother, I promised Clifford I would attend

the party at Judge Baker's.".

Comprehending what additional suffering this new-

trial would impose, Mrs. Lawrence said:

u My darling, I fear yon over-estimate your strength.

Do YOU think >vou are strong enough for this ?"

"^

\f

v

O

<--

" Strong enough ? " exclaimed Gertrude ; ^end springing

from the lounge with some of the old fire, she walked

hastily back and forth the room with a determined air,

which bespoke a will ready to fulfil its resolutions to the

letter. Her mother regarded her in painful silence, for she

feared that this was but the recklessness which comes of

despair. .Neither spoke, until after a few minutes, Ger

trude turned and with the old smile of happy days play-

in around her beautiful mouth, said:

*w-

'

'* Do you not see, mother, that the very thought of it

makes me strong ? And did you suppose that I would

run away for the gossips to say I was afraid to meet Clif

ford's bride ? Come, mother, where's your pride ? You

should advise me differentlv." * " But suppose, svith the eyes of the whole town upon

you. you should tremble or become embarrassed, or faint,

when you are presented to the bride ? "

" Never fear, mother7;" and the same reckless lauC gh which fell upon the midnight air that night at The Ter

races, accompanied these words, and made the mother

shadder. " Never fear, mother, for I'll bear myself like

a queen, and as your daughter should." Then coming

close up to her mother, she said almcfet in a whisper, as if

76

JTOT HOW.

afraid even of the walls: " For if my heart breaks, the world shall not see it."
a And yon will not go now ? " asked the mother, with a heavy sigh.
" Not now, mother."
" When shall we go, then ? Decide, for I most write at once to Reuben,"
" Sometime soon--say in two or three weeks ;" and when Mrs. Lawrence left the room, Gertrude threw her self again upon the lounge, overcome by a paroxysm of tears, which was the inevitable sequence to the nndoe excitement which preceded the result

IOYE AND HONOR.

77

.r
CHAPTER

LOVE AND HONOR.
*

[HE party was at its height, and the parlors were

blazing with light and beauty. A quadrille was

jnst finished, and the grounds and colonnade

and halls and windows and stair-wavs were crowded *
with lovely women in tulle and silks and satins, and with

men in the inevitable black suits, all of whom were chat

tering like so many blackbirds. But there was a hush,

as Gertrude, leaning upon the arm of Frank Morgan,

1

passed through their midst, for her marvellous beauty

silenced conversation for the moment Her dress was

faultless, consisting of a white illusion underskirt with

puffings which were divided by pink moss-buds, with a

light-blue satin tunic and bodice trimmed to correspond,

while coral jewelry and a single, rosebud in her hair,

completed this exquisite toilette.

Her large gray eyes sparkled with unusual brilliancy

--excitement gave something like a hectic flush to her

cheeks, and she bore herself proudly as she swept grace

fully forward to where the bridal party stood. Every

eye in the room was turned upon her, but she bore the

*

battery of glances without flinching, and after paying her

:

respects to the host and hostess, was presented by Judge

I

Baker to the bride in these words :

|

" Mrs. Troup, permit me to present Miss Lawrence,

v

one of your husband's best friends, and Mr. Morgan."

8

LOVE ^T> noxos.

The hands of wife and rival were clasped, and without the slightest embarrassment, Gertrude said :
" I am happy to welcome you to L------." To which the little bine-eyed, brown-haired bride, in white silk, illusion, point-lace and orange-blossoms, said: " You are verv kind."
r
This was all ; and as Gertrude took Frank's arm with the intention of passing on, Clifford, who stood convers ing with a lady near by, turned and offered his hand, evidently desiring not to be forgotten. Taking it, Ger trude said,* with her sweetest smile :
" I'm glad you are here, for, I always make it a point to extend my congratulations to the husband."
For sojae reason or other, Clifford could not command his usual readiness, and so he was very glad when his ' little wife said :
"And whv</ to husbands more than to wives,* Miss Lawrence ? "
" Because, women are all angels (?) you know, but men--it remains to be.seen what they are."
" You are complimentary, as usual," answered Clif ford, scarcely knowing what he said, yet feeling forced to say something.
u Oh, with all your faults, I like you still--that is, your sex, I mean," she answered, with an attempt at a smile, and an increasing constraint which fortunately no one else detected.
" Honey and" aloes," replied Clifford, bitterly, for this trifling was absolutely painful to him ; and as he saw how artificial even Gertrude could be, he doubted for the moment the earnestness of all women, forgetting

'/

LOVE AND HONOR.

79

what hypocrites society makes them, forgetting what de

ception custom demands at their hands.

" Miss Gertrude, this is our dance," said Frank Mor

gan ; and without replying to Clifford, she took the arm

of her escort, and as they moved off, looked over her

shoulder, and smiling to the bridal couple, said:

" I'll see yon again."

So the little farce was over, and those who looked on

conld detect nothing to criticize in what appeared to be

only an indifferent meeting between two society people.

Thus do we read each other, and while our hearts are

breaking, we go laughing and dancing, even down to the

brink of the grave.

" May I see your card ?" said Clifford a few moments

later.

" Certainly," said' Gertrude ; and when he returned it,

his name was down for the next quadrille.

Gertrude had never been gayer than on this evening,

and her old admirers, whom she had almost cut lately,

felt verv*

much

encouraOs^d

bv/

her

kindness

towards V

them. She was the centre of a group of these old

friends, and the sparkling witticisms and brilliant sar

casms which fell from her pretty Kpe, inspired them with

new admiration. However, they were not destined to

enjoy this charming conversation long, for after a little

while, the bridegroom led her away, saying:

" This is our dance."

,

Understanding that for her sake and his own it was

necessary he should pay her some attention, Clifford had

asked Gertrude to honor him with a dance, more for the

purpose of silencing the tongues of bosybodies, than be

cause lie felt like participating in any gayety.

LOVB AiriX HONOK.
fr
Silently and 'in a stately manner, they walked through the quadrille, without exchanging even so mifch as a word or a glance, and to a stranger they would have ap peared like the negative and positive poles meeting; but to those who were familiar with the recent events of their lives, they looked like what they were--two people trying to do their duty in spite of fate and feeling.
The quadrille over, Clifford slipped Gertrude's hand through his arm, and passing out at one of the windows walked down the colonnade to where some chairs sat in the shadow of a column.
They sat there for a few moments in silence; then Ger trude said :
" This is very imprudent" "And w^io cares if it is," said Clifford, recklessly " I care for nothing, for I love but you," Rash words these, if not dishonorable, and to be attrib uted to the influence of wine, for we are convinced that Clifford Troup's high sense of honor would never have permitted him to use such language had he been him self. Arising, and standing before him in all the majesty and grandeur of a woman who feels that the hour has come in which she must either save or damn, not only the man she lores, but herself, Gertrude said : _ " But if you are the honorable man I take you to be, yon will tear this love from your heart; " and God above onlv knows what an effort the words cost her.
*
u Is this what you would have me do ?" " It is." "Is this what you intend to do ?" " By God's help, it is;" and turning her eyes to Leaven, she stood for a moment in an attitude of prater.

' LOVE AST) HONOR.

81

Xo more heroic act was ever performed than this, and there is every reason to hope and believe that God will be merciful to the woman who can make her love the safeguard instead of the ruin of the man she loves.
^
There was a bowing of the head, a pressure of the hands upon the eves, a harrowing pang through the heart, a low moan, a stifling pause, and arising, Clifford offered Gertrude his arm, and they reached the ball-room in silence. Here a partner who had been in search of her claimed her, and the next moment saw her whirling in a waltz.
Regarding her for an instant, then walking coolly away, Clifford thought to himself, " How we do trifle with the most sacred feelings of our hearts 1"

THE ABBIYAL.
CHAPTER XL
THE
WO weeks later, as the shadows were lengthening and the sun was sinking, the cars came puffing slowly along, and stopped at the village of
Mrs. Lawrence and Gertrude stepped on to the platform, wkere they were met by Mr. Hall, who said, with gentle voice and a look of tenderness in his eves :
r
" How d'ye, Margaret ? " to which she replied, " How d'ye, Reuben?" and shaking hands, the greeting be tween the brother and sister, who had been separated for so many long years, was over. ~No doubt they loved each other as well as those who are more demonstrative ; but in their early education they had been reared to re gard kissing and such other little mannerisms as formali ties properly belonging to the outside world, and hence it was that they were not overly punctilious about those trifling ceremonies which are so beautiful in the home circle. Without any premeditation or particular ambi tion to inaugurate a new era in her mother's family, Ger trude put her arms around her uncle's neck and kissed him, simply because he was her uncle. From that instant his good, -kind heart opened to her, and this one little un studied act of tenderness paved the way to years of fnture love and devotion. * So it would seem that while kisses may not be sought from an old, gray-haired and wrinkled

THE ARRIVAL.

83

sister, they may be very acceptable from a youug and pretty girl. Exactly--oh, the old sinner! But then, there are few men who would not be vanquished under such circumstances, even granting they opposed these se ductive things upon principle; only, we never heard of one
who did. u And this is my little Gertrude ?" he said, taking her
face between both hands, and looking into her eyes, * Little ?" she said, smiling. " ^hy, I'm almost as tall
as vou." " And a beautiful child you are, too," he answered, still
regarding her. Then turning.to his sister, he added: < How like her father ! "
"Without noticing his last words, Mrs. Lawrence said, with deprecating l<x>k and tone :
" But beauty is spoilt, Reuben, when the owner be comes conscious of it."
" Oh well, Margaret, I don't suppose anything an old man says will turn the girl's head, but it might if it came from a fine young fellow like, this; " and as Paul Maxwell then joined them, Mr. Hall presented him to the ladies. And indeed he was u/a fine young fellow,"-- not what women would call handsome, for his nose was t<x> prominent and his features too irregular; but, accord ing to Xapoleon's standard, the men^with noses are the men who make their mark, and according to our obser vation this is a very good rule to judge by. Paul was tall; and riding horseback and hunting and living much in the open air, hud given him a physical development which was remarkable for so young a man. His hazel eyes were fearless and truthful, his brow too prominent for beauty, and his mouth firm and compressed, bespeak-

84

THE

fng will and determination. In his manners he had all

that easy grace and polished gallantry which character

izes the trne Southern gentleman; and as he stood with

uncovered head in the presence of the ladies, we cer

tainly thought with Mr. Hall, that he was " a fine young

fellow."

" Is the carriage ready, Paul ?" asked Mr. Hall, after

the usual compliments had passed between himself and

tftie ladies.

"JS'ot just yet, sir. The horses were afraid of the cars,

and c Harry' said he would drive down the road until the

train was gone."

" That was right; and while we are waiting, do me the

kindness to have the trunks put on the wagon."

" With pleasure:" and he went eairerlv to attend to the

i

s

^

vt

request

Then the train moved on, the few idlers who almost

gazed their eyes ont at Gertrude dispersed, and entering

the carriage, our quartette drove slowly through the

deepening twilight to " Pleasant Retreat."

" Tou have not changed much, Margaret, although

your hair is a little gray," said her brother.

" I wish I could say the same of you, Reuben; but you

are sadly altered. ^Is your health bad ?"

" Oh, yes. I'm a mere wreck."

" Whafs the matter ? "

" Hard work and no rest; for you must have some idea

of the up-hill road I've had to travel all these long years."

u Yes, You certainly have achieved wonders."

" No, not wonders, but the possibility that lies within

the reach of every American boy who has ability and

perseverance."

THE ABETVJLL.

85

Here the conversation stopped, and Paul was heard

saying:

.

" Do you think you will like the country, Miss Law

rence ?"

" Oh, I don't know; I've never thought of it at all;"

and as her words called forth no response, the remainder

of the distance was accomplished in silence, each one

being busy with their own thoughts.

As was the custom in those dav/ s.* there were numerous stands erected in the park, upon which were enkindled

nightly fires, not so much for the purpose of illumination

as for the object of enticing the bugs and insects which

otherwise rendered it exceedingly disagreeable to re

main indcKxrs.

"How familiar!" said Mrs. Lawrence, as the light

broke upon her, for the custom had been one which her

father observed, and memory was again busy with her

childhood.

" Here's marster--here's marster," cried a bevy of

voices; and about forty little black urchins, more or less,

ran in advance of the carriage to open the gate which

led into the park. " How d'ye, marster ? how d'ye, mars

ter ?" thev/ then shouted,y and as he smiled and said: " Oh, you little scamps ! " they danced for joy at thfc

recognition, and showed the whites of their teeth and

eyes more than the law allows.

" That must be a very heavy gate," suggested. Grer-

trnde with a smile, and trying to count the number of

childreTi who held it open.

" Xot half so heavy as their hearts would be were they

denied the privilege of opening and closing it," answered

her uncle, with a gratified look.

86

THE ABBTVAL.

A
Bat now they were at the house, and upon alighting were surrounded hj a fresh bevy of Afric's sons and daughters, who took bodily possession of them, while pet dogs in abundance barked forth their noisy welcome, . "Rio," the special favorite of the master, leading off in the demonstration ; for, to tell the truth, " Rio " had al most as much sense as anybody, and he knew full well that something unusual was going on.
" Get away, Rio,' and you c Troup,' you i Frank/ you 1 Binks,' begone," said the master, stamping his foot at his pets; but as this only increased their barking, he was compelled at last to call in the aid of " Harry," the " Major Domo," as he called his colored valtt and car riage-driver, to get rid of them. This noise being finally
silenced, he said to his sister and Gertrude: " Welcome to ' Pleasant Retreat;' and here, ' Ellen,'
take these band-boxeSj and you, Dora,' take these shawls,
and * Fanny,' take this basket" "Yes, sah," they answered, curtseying, and seizing the

respective charges. " This is Miss Margaret, and this is Miss Gertrude,"
he said by way of introduction, and after much " howd'ye-doing " on the part of the ladies, and " I'se well" on the part of the "darkies," they ascended the half dozen steps, and stood on the porch, where they were greeted by " Aunt Eliza Jane," the faithful old house keeper and cook, who had for twenty years or more su perintended the household affairs of the " Retreat."
" Is supper ready, ' Eliza ' 1" asked the master. " Yes, sah \ ready and waitin'." " Then show these ladies to their room, f Ellen,' and when they get the dust off, we'll have supper;" and

THE ARRTYAL.

87

" Ellen " and " Dora " and " Fanny " mounted the an

tique stair-way, followed by the ladies, when, to make

sure that evervthino: was rizht, " Aunt 'Liza " left her

v

O

*-- *

particular domain and went after the guests and her

children, for these girls were all the offspring of "Barry"

and herself, and well they might have been called the

happy family.

\

" Got all you wants, Miss Margaret ?"" she asked.

. " I believe so, thank you, c Eliza.' "

" Ladies are a rarity here, are they not, Aunt 'Liza' ? J'

asked Gertrude.

" Lor, chile, no--why, marster has big parties and

balls here sometimes, and de ladies frum de whole neigh-

berrin' country% 'round here comes to 'em."

" Whv ,/

YOU
'

don't

tell

me ?"

said

Gertrude, *

with

a

smile.

" "Whv, I thought uncle was a cross, crabbed old

5

O

1

bachelor that a lady never would speak to."

" Marster ain't nnffin ob de kind : he's jes as peaceable-

like and good as he can be,,haint he, 'Dora ' ?" and it

was quite evident that the " marster " couldn't be spoken

of so lightly in that presence.

" 'Deed he is," answered " Dora;" then added, " and

we all lubs marster, kase he's good to us."

" Jes as good as de days is long," said "Aunt 'Liza,"

I

turning down the cover from the snowy/bed. "But I

must be goin', and-jes make yeselfs entirely at home, and

if ye wants anything, jes call one ob de gals; and soon

as ye gits ready, come right down, for supper is waitin'."

"Well, we are ready, now," said Gertrude; and to

gether they descended to the parlor, where Mr. Hall and

Paul awaited them.

" So

you've
<

finished

beautifying uO

yourself,

<i

1

have you ? " v

THJS AKKTVAI*

asked the' uncle, looking at his lovely niece again, for in

his heart her beauty pleased him.

" Oh ^es, that didn't take long, uncle," was the smiling

reply.

" Well, I declare, Gertrude," said the mother, " be

tween Reuben and yourself, I really fear you will be

ruined;" for somehow or other she entertained the

ridiculous idea that she could keep her daughter from

knowing that she was pretty, when, too, that daughter

could look into her mirror every hour in the dav.

tt

*

u Supper's ready, marster," " Ellen " stood in the door

way and said, from behind her waiter.

Arising, Mr. Hall said :

"Come, Margaret, and Paul, briag the girl into sup

per;" but slipping her hand through his arm, Gertrude

said:

" The girl prefers to bring her uncle into supper, and

Mr. Maxwell can bring^the widow if he chooses."

" Anything to please the children," said Mr. Hall,

laughing: and they all entered the dining-room in a glee

that was truly refreshing, followed by the dogs before

mentioned, for " Rio " was literally his master's shadow,

and always expected to eat at the same time the " white

folks" did, as the negroes say. The blessing over, Ger

trude said:

" Well, uncle, I declare! do you expect me to eat with

all these dogs around here ? n as the quartette grouped

themselves around the master's chair.

"I certainly do, for I wouldn't have anything, unless

I could share it with < Rio ' --would I, ' Rio' ?" and the

faithful " Rio " whined and barked as if he understood

what his master was saying.

THE AfiEIYAL.

89

" Bat I haven't made you acquainted with this impor tant branch of tnv family jet--have I f "
f: Xo."
"'Well, then, first and foremost, this is ' Rio Janeiro,' --shake'hands with i Miss Gertrude,' 4 Rio;' *' and putting up his right forefoot, he did as he was bid--"he was a present brought to me by my friend. Commodore ------, from South America; and this mastiff is named ''Frank lin Pierce' --we call him i Frank,' for short; and this little black-and-tan is named * Bingo Binks.' ?'
" For < Sir Bingo,' in St. Ronan's Well ' I " OJ
u The same--we call him 'Binks' for short; and this poor old blind cur is named ' George ^L Troup'----."
" Troup/* exclaimed Gertrude, almost springing from her chair; then looking at her mother without intending to do it, she sighed and sank back, and looked at the poor old blind dog with something like pity and interest in her moistened eyes.
" Tes, Troup; there's nothing so strange in that, is there ? He's named for the great Georgian--the wise statesman, the intrepid governor."
" Tes, I know, I know," said Gertrude impatiently. " We call him ' Troup.' for short;" and seeing instantly, with his usual insight, that there was something singular in Gertrude's conduct, he looked at her closely, to divine, if possible, what it was. Appreciating the situation, and thinking it best to change the subject, Mrs. Lawrence said : " Why, what an excellent cook you have, Reuben ! The coffee is delicious, and the waffles as nice as I ever tasted," " Tes, i 'Liza' usually manages to do very well, consider ing there's no woman to overlook things; " and a bark from " Rio " was repaid with a biscuit

90

THE AXBXVAL.

u Wh*v is it that you have never married,' uncle ?~ asked Gertrude, with that respectful familiarity which his un assuming manners invited,
u Perhaps it's because I couldn't," he said smiling, fol lowed by something like a sigh.
a Oh, uncle, that will never do. What, the lion. Reu ben TTallj United States Senator, couldn't get married I Why, there are plenty of women would jump at the chance, and do half the courting."
" Do I not speak the truth, Margaret ?" " Indeed, I can't say> Reuben, for you know I haven't kept up with you all these long years." " There now, you can get no proof there, for mother sticks to the truth in the most persistent and provoking way." " A virtue you do not seem to have the highest regard for," suggested Paul "Well, no, too much of it is sometimes disagree able.".
u You naughty child," said Mr. Hall, joining in the general laugh.
u Come now, uncle, own up like a man, and tell me why I haven't an annt here to greet me, instead of an old bachelor with a lot of dogs."
u I-hope you don't diglflrp. my dogs, Gertrude, for who ever likes me, most like my dogs; and besides, they are an I have got to love,"
u That's just what I am driving at I want to know why yon haven't something else to love."
u Well, then, since you are so persistent and will know, 111 tell yon. what I told a lady in Xorth'Carolina once, and that is, that the ladies whom I had desired to marry I

THE AEBTVAL.

91

liad t*jo much respect to address, and those whom I could

niarrv. I had too much reirard for mvself to court-'"

/

*--



- For shame.~ cried Gertrude, as a general laugh fol

lowed these words. " and I don't intend to allow yon1 to

talk about my uncle in that way; " and as " Tronp" then

gave a bar!:, she silenced him with a piece of chicken.

" D<.es the px-r dog want some supper?"' then asked

the master of the old blind pet ". Speak for it, then ;

crv fur it--louder:' " and as he almost talked.* Mr. Hall said. " Give him his sapper, ' Fasny.'" Then turning to

Gertrude, he said : i; I told you the truth, child/'

i; I don't believe a word of it; and besides, it mav not

s

*

.

be too late yet, for ' Aunt 'Liza' and ' Ellen ' have been

telling me that you have balls and parties here every now

and then.''

- Certainly we do. but I'm past the marrying time

now:" and as a genuine sigh followed these words, we

thought, who knows, perhaps he has loved and has been

disappointed, like so many others.

" You should not be so inquisitive, my daughter/' sug

gested the mother.

"Xever mind, mother, uncle and I will understand

each other, will we not \ "

--^

"

Oh

ve=
*

:
-

let

her

alone. *

Mar^g^ aret,*

and

let

her

do

what-

ever will make her happy; ^ and with these words thev all

arose and followed the master into the study, where the

dust and confusion proved conclusivelv the need of a

J.



woman about the establishment.

~ Happy i'' said Gertrude, just loud enough for her

uncle to hear her. as she clung to his arm : the"n. with a

ti2"tu she recrossed the hall Eilentlv. and mounted the

'^~r

'

*>

Etairs to her room.

92

THE ARBIVAL.

Toby brought his master's pipe, Paul said " Good night," and when the sister and brother were left to gether, Mrs. Lawrence said: " My poor child, Keuben! What shaU I do with her ? ?'
" Leave her alone, and time will do the rest," he an swered, while a look of concern knitted' his brows and compressed his lips. And while they sat talkiog of the past, the night waned, and Gertrude sank into a stupor of misery which rendered her alike unconscious of time and place.
She had tried so hard to be gay, because her mother requested it, and because she thought she owed it to her uncle; but her spirit and strength had beeo taxed beyond their powers, the tension was too tight, and the heartcords snapped when her uncle talked to her of being happy.

HOMESICK.

93

CHAPTER XTL

HOiCESICK.

home late one 'evening, Clifford

was rather surprised not to find Virginia npon

the gallery to meet him, for this was her custom.

Bowing to his uncle and aunt, with whom he made his

home, he said to the latter :

" Where is mv/ wife ? " " She has not come down yet," was the reply, which

sent him upstairs with a well-defined apprehension at his

heart that all was not right.

Conscience does not onl*v make cowards of us,J but it is the unerring monitor that reminds us of neglected duties ;

and Clifford felt, in the self-examination then forced upon

him, that he had not been all to his Young1 wife that he

j

v

<_/

might have been. ^^

He forgut that she was a stranger among strangers--

that she was a mere child, who was separatedVfrom her

parents fur the first time, and selfishly thought only of

himself, while she was left alone to wonder at\his con

tinual absence.

A species of refined cruelty which is unjust Vo the

wife, and unpardonable in the husband.

The days of early married life are trying anyhow\ but

if he who has taken the fluttering bird from the parent

nest would only shelter her with those thoughtful litfcje

attentions which should be hers in consideration of al]

HOMESICK.

she has given np for him, there would be no necessity for

recording secret tears and pangs concealed.

Many men neglect these minor things through thought

lessness, while their hearts are full of love, and we trust

it is only necessary to show them the importance of what

they consider trifles, for them to be put into immediate

execution. So let them alway^ s bear in mind,' that thev/
are the thousand and one little nameless attentions which

love suggests, that will make their wives devoted and

c^x. j

*

happy, themselves satisfied and contented, and home

the dearest spot of earth.

It was deep twilight when Clifford entered the room,

but by the soft moonlight which came in at the windows,

he saw his wife lying upon a lounge. She did not turn

to greet him though, but remained motionless with her

face to the wall, until he knelt l>eside her and said :

Virginia!"

Only her name; no " darling," no " dearest," no

u sweet one," none of those little titles of affection which

signify nothing in themselves, but which mean so much

when they come from a loving heart. Ko; by none of

these did her husband ever greet her, and already, her

woman's nature yearned for perhaps what it would never

have.

Clifford was a poor dissembler, and he was too full of

the old love to be yet on with the new--a sufficient cause

to raise up a wall between himself and his wife, and ad

ditional proof that where marriage is not based upon

perfect harmony, that no man can properly do his

duty."

However, a gentle nature and a chivalry peculiar to

our people, made him the friend of every woman, and his

HOMESICK.

95

heart was touched as he pressed his wife's hand and said

tenderl*y/ : " Virginia, are you sick?"

" Xo," came from quivering lips.

- " Viliat is the matter, then \ " kindly and anxiously

a^ain asked her husband. <-^ ''Xothing much," said the young wife in a tone which

implied a good deal. " Xothing much ! then you admit there is something \
"What is it I tell me--don't keep anything from me."

As if forced from her, she said:

" I'm only homesick !" and her tears told the rest.

" Only homesick!" As if that didn't mean every

thing !

"Whv, it meant to be neglected bv one who should

v'

O

/

have made the absence of dear ones a temporary oblivion

--to be left to herself in the midst of strangers--to be O
made to feel that she was nothing to him for whom she

had given up family, home, luxury, and love without

measure. " Only homesick! " A heart-pang that might

be spared by a little care and tenderness ; and no man has

any right to take a woman from a home where she is the centre of devotion, without he expects to give her at

least what she has relinquished for him, if not more:

Feeling tin's for the first time, Clifford took his wife in his arms and said tenderly:

u Then you shall go home, Virginia."

" Xot without you, Clifford;" and the whole story

was told as she put both arms around his neck, and

nestled her head in his bosom. She was homesick for

him--she wanted more of his society; and when he dis

covered how dearly she loved him, he hated himself for

HOMESICK.

allowing any force of circumstances to make him deceive

snch a trusting- and confiding child. Other men have

experienced this feeling before; and so surely as night

* follows the day, will nat/ure recoil upon the heads of

those who disregard and outrage her holiest claims.

There was silence between them for some moments,

and the low sobs of his/young wife smote Clifford's heart

painfully. Then he said :

" Bat I cannot leave just now, Virginia, for court is in

session, and my cases may be called any day."

" Then I'll stay with you; " and her wifely devotion

made itself known in these few words : " But, Clifford, I

see so little of you, and I'm so lonely when you are

gone."

" Isn't my aunt company for you ? "

" Oh, but you know she has her house and children to""

look after, and always when I go down she seems so busy

that, for fear of intrusion, I soon return to my own room.

Then I am so lonely that I can't help crying."

" But now you mustn't cry any more, for it will make

me very unhappy if you do;" and he wiped the tears

from her eyes.

.,

" Then I will try not," said the loving little unappre

ciated wife, "for I wouldn't make you unhappy for the

world."

" Nor I you, my little wife. But come, will yon not

get ready for tea ?" and he raised her from the lounge.

" Not this evening, for I fear my eyes are too red. Be

sides, Clifford, it is so sweet to be all alone with you. I

don't want to see any one but just you."

And if he had felt as she did, how happy they might

have been! But instead of his heart responding to hers,

HOMESICK.

97

an uncomfortable twinge made itself felt in that organ,

and lie said with truth and earnestness :

" Virginia, yon love me more than I deserve."

Here the conversation was interrupted by a rap at the

door, announcing supper.

Turning to go, Clifford said :

' Shall I send you a cup of tea?"

" Just bring it when you come."

" Nothing "else ?"

-'

u Xo, thank you; " and with a breath of relief, he

closed the door between himself and his wife--with a

breath of relief he left the presence of her whom he had

sworn to love, to keep, and to cherish. Do not be

shocked, for Clifford is not the first man who ever felt

this way, nor will he be the last, so long as men shall

marry for money and convenience ; for where there is

not love, there can be nothing but aversion.

He was veYy miserable ; for no man can deliberately

sacrifice the happiness of another without suffering, no

matter how hardened both his heart and his conscience

mavf be. " Where's Virginia ?" asked Mrs. Baker, when Clifford

entered the dining-room alone.

" She's not feeling very well this evening, and doesn't

wish any tea."

" Oh, I'm sorry to hear it. I thought she was only a little

late dressing, or I should have gone in to have seen her."

" Oh, she's not sick, only feeling a little homesick, I

fancy."

"An inevitable disease ror brides, but a most distress

ing one, as I have cause to know," said Mrs. Baker, with

feeling. " I must see her and try to cheer her up."

98

HOMESICK.

Bat Clifford made no reply, for he stood at the side

board pouring' ont some whiskey from a decanter, while

his uncle looked on with a frown of disapproval, fur he

knew that this habit of drinking was growing upon his

ijephew, and it gave him great concern. He would speak

to him about it. Wherefore ? He knew by experience if

men were determined to drink, that they would do it,

but he resolved at any rate to enter a protest before it

should be too late; for he believed, and we believe, that

it is our duty to remonstrate one with another, when we

see our friends being dragged down to ruin by some vile

habit, which is not only tolerated, but winked at bv so-

7



7

*f

ciety. If women only half appreciated their power, and

the danger which threatens the men of our land from

this increasing love of liquor, what an immense influence

they might wield for good in the world. For suppose,

instead of drinking with men, they should say: u Don't

drink that. I especially request you not to,*' what man

would refuse ? It's all very well for persons who regard

this thing too lightly to say:

" Men are going to drink anyhow ;?* but what encourage

ment have they ever had to abandon this pernicious and

insidious practice 1 If they don't drink, why, they are to

be taunted with, " Oh, he's a temperance man," " lie's

afraid of his mother," " He's afraid of his wife." Would

to Heaven they were all three, for then there would be no

wretched mothers over sons gone astray--no heart-bro

ken wives over'husbands who were victims to this fiend

ish habit Who doubts but that a substantial reform

would take place, if every woman in the land would turn

her face against this curse, which is born of the devil, and

which is his surest and largest plan of destruction ? Have

HOMESICK.

99

yon a father, a husband, a brother who drinks J Have

YOU a son in whom all jour hopes are centred, who per

chance may be lured into taking his/first glass of wine,

when temptingly held out to him by the hand of beauty ?

Think of it, oh mothers, wives, and sisters, and pause, be

fore encouraging such a deadly snare for the betrayal, if

not ruin, of those YOU love. Banish wines from vonr par-

f





A

ties, from your dinner-tables, from your receptions, and let

Your friends understand that YOU would as soon give them



*

<-

the Borgia poison as have them drink; for while one

kills outright, tbe other blasts the moral nature, and

makes that life a curse which might otherwise have been

a comfort to one's familv, a blessing to one's country, and

J

O

*"

a glory to God.

But while we'Ye been entering this little wedge against

a custom which is the great and prevalent evil of our

land, supper was OYer, and Clifford had returned with the

cup of tea for his gentle, blue-eyed wife. As usual, the

room was bright and coscy, his slippers and robe were

"ready for him, and putting them on, he sat down to a

book, and Virginia laid upon the lounge and watched

him. Her tears had ceased to flow, but her heart felt

heavy, and the poor child was still--homesick.

100

IN THE "SANCTUARY.

CHAPTER

Iff THE " SANCTUARY."

|T was decided that Gertrude should remain at

" Pleasant Eetreat; " so, after a visit of a week,

Mrs. Lawrence returned to her home, which was

desolate enough without her only child.

" Gertrude. I fear you are hot well" said her uncle

/



J

one morning, after she had been with him some weeks-.

" Yes, uncle, I am very well; " and confusion brought

the roses once more to her cheeks.

" You have grown perceptibly paler and thinner since

your arrival here ;" and as he fixed his penetrating eyes

upon her, she felt as if he was looking into her very

heart, and reading the secrets which she held as sacred.

" "What is the matter with you ? "

" Nothing," was the trite reply; but the moistened eyes

which sought the floor to hide their tears, told a different

story; and .Mr. Hall knew to thev contrary as he leant

forward and whispered in her ear:

" You are struggling with a great love! " at which

words she started, like some guilty creature caught in the

act which he fain would hide from every human eye.

" You are a brave girl, and you are trying to do the

best you can, but I think I can. help you."

The poor child, who as yeV did not understand that

there was anything else to do except to indulge the nat

ural impnlses of the heart without restraint, sat weeping,

THE " SANCTUARY."

101

and her good, kind uncle was touched as much as he could be, considering he had had no love-episodes, and that he had put all of the softer feelings out of his life, as being too effeminate and requiring too much time. After regarding her silently for some time, he proceeded
by asking: " Do you think it right for you to indulge this love
now ?" ' No," was the scarcely audible reply " Do you think it right to still cherish the memory of
it ? "Xo."
" Then why do you do it \ " " I cannot help it!" came in all honesty and sincerity from a heart that loved with a depth which is known to but few, for to every one is not given the knowledge of how to love. " Have you tried to help it ? " asked the statesman, who like the skilful surgeon probed deeply and mercilessly in order to cure this terrible malady/ . " I have," was the faltering reply, for she felt doubtful as to whether her efforts had been altogether honest or not. '; How lyive you tried ?" and as her uncle leant for ward and scrutinized her face closelv/ ,/ she felt that it was utterly useless to attempt any longer either to deceive herself or him ; bat she said nothing. Her silence confinned what he feared, and with an ominous shake of the head, he said:
'; Ah ! my child, yon, like too many others, attempt to deceive yourself. You si.y you have' tried to keep from indulging a feeling, which you not only know, but con-

N

102

IN THE "SANCTUARY."

*

fess is wrong. But how have you tried ? I will tell you.

You have tried, by thinking of nothing else, day and

night, and by keeping constantly before yon the image

of one whom it is now crime for you to cherish. You

fancy yourself badly treated by man, and your heart is

-

fast being hardened towards God for permitting what you

consider great injustice to yourself. Is it not so? All

this my child, is wrong and wicked, and is not only

injuring your own health, but is killing yonr mother."

" Killing my mother! " exclaimed Gertrude, as she

recalled the worn and haggard expression of that dear

face.

t

" Yes; wearing her away, dav bv dav, for the melan-

/

O

*'*,***'

choly change which has come npon you affects her more

than you can understand. You are all she has fo live

for, and 4o you suppose she can feel happy when yon

*

are unhappy ?"

" I did not know this--I never thought of it," said

Gertrude, as if talking to herself. u I didn't know any

one cared for what I felt."

all care, my child; and you owe it to us, no less

n to yourself, to get rid of this enemy which is prey

ing in* sec ret upon you, and if possible, to make us happy

by your smiles."

" Uncle, I do not feel as if I should ever smile again,

for life is over with me, and I shall never be happy any

I

more!" and the tears would come.

^*

"Life over at seventeen !" said the uncle in surprise.

.

" Why, you are only a baby ! and besides, those persons

who smile are not always happy; but those alone are

happy who know their duty and do it."

Seeing tliat he was m&kuig an impression, he continued i

IX THE " SASCTUAJJY."

103

J " And even if we are miserable ourselves, it is sheer selfishness to inflict that misery upon others. How much better, how much nobler it would be, did we crush self, and live for those who are dependent upon our smiles for their happiness! Did you ever think of this, Gertrude \ "
Drving her eyes, and looking thoughtfully out of the open window by which she sat, she said, after awhile:
" I must confess I never. I did not know it mattered what I felt; nor did I dream that it affected anyone else."
Her answer did not surprise him, for he knew human nature t<x> well.
"But v< on will think of it now,j Gertrude?" and so deep an impression had he made upon her in this short conversation, that she said at once with an earnestness that was unmistakable :
" Ye^' unde;' and if y ou will tell me what my. dutyi is,* I will try and do it."
i; That's a brave girl," he said, while the joy that beat in his heart shone forth in his beaminog ev es. Then,j with great seriousness, he said :
' But you cannot do this of yourself." Evidently not understanding his meaning, she said :
" Cannot do it of mvself ?" .
" No, not without the help of God. Do you neyer pray !"
" Xut now," came with a sigh and downcast eyes. " But you used to ?" " Yes/'
" Your mother taught you this ? " "Yes."
u Then why do you neglect it now

DT THE " SASCTTAKT.7'

" Because, uncle, I have been so unhappy! r and the

fountain, which seemed inexhaustible, sent forth fresh

tears.

" So

much

more

the

reason

why *

vou
*

should

ask

for

help to cany TOOT cross; for does not Christ say, * Come

unto roe, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will

give yon rest ?' Come, child, ex me with me. and together

we will kneel down and ask help from slove; ~ and

taking her by the hand, they walked across the r-.om aod

stood before a door which was never opened except by

the master of * Pleasant Hetreat." Taking a key from

his pocket, he unlocked the d x>r. a~:d tLey entered a

small room, the furniture of wLJcii consisted of a table,

with an open I>ible npon it. and one rl.a'r. Gertrade at

ooce trader-stood tltsLk it was an eccentricity of her unele

to set this room apart f>r feacred parpjses ; and while she

**

stood in wondering sflence at the beautiful idea, he said :

u This is my ; Sanctuary'; and it is here that I come to

ask God to help me in the straggles of my life. Let us

pray; ** and kneeling down, his voice ascended in an elo

quent petition in behalf of the unhappy girl who knelt

weeping by his side. Up--up--higher--higher went the

prayer to that everlasting throne of mercy, and unto Him

who is always merciful to tboee who ask for it--always

forgiTing to those who wish to be forgiven--always lov-

rog to those who desire to be loved. And who knows

I

bat that this great and good man had loved and lost, too,

as well as the unhappy girl for whom he prayed. That

tliere was some mystery in his life was admitted; but

what it was, was another thing. Had he an idol some-

wljere in the world! Perhaps!

FORBIDDEN MEMOEEES.

105

CHAPTER XT7.

FOEBIDDES" ICEMOKEES.

fF onlv that house were out of the W**T ! But S3 loosr as it stands there, it will be a daily tenure

for me to pass it! "

Thus thought the husband of scarce two months, as his

eves fell upon the unoffending cottar? of the widow,

wliieh 5M;d almost opp:site his nude's.

This may not seem very proper or very manly in Clif-

f :<rd. hnt it was what was scggeste^r to him almost ev^sy

day. as he passed and repassed thejirde cottage, beneadi

whose roof had been spent the happiest as well as the

most wretched hoars of his life.

And shall we not be merciful \ We who perchance

have

our

cottage wherein *-,

the

hours

flew

unheeded

wherein we told our love wherein we dreamt bri^t

v_

dreams, and talked of those far-off joys which we fancied

would be ours ?

,

Shall we not be merciijpl to those who cherish a rate-

bud a geranium leaf a half-worn letter all blotted

with tears a ring which eats into the flesh with its har

rowing memories, but without which they would be stffl

more wretched a tree of hair a book all interlined

for have not we the same ?

Have we not all walked upon forbidden ground ? hare

we not all our forbidden memories ?

Yes, a thousand times yes! Then let us pirr and be 5*

106

FOltRlDDEX 1CEMOSIES.


charitable; but do not let us become con verts to the per

nicioos doctrine of "it mi^ht hare been ; r for this it

<-*

'

was which was crushing Clifford beneath its baneful in

fluence* Bather let us inscribe upon our banner * it may

be," and pressing boldly forward, make the future what

it should be, with the errors of the past omitted.

But by day and by night these forbidden memories

held Clifford in bondage, causing him to neglect his du

ties, to ignore his young wife, and to seek temporary ob

livion hi artificial means.

It was not right, bat it was what they drove him to do ;

and man that he was, he did not seein strong enough to

resist their thraldom,

a AKGELB AHD MQDBXpiS OF GRACE, JSKL
CHAPTER XY. /
u ASGELB AHD MINT8TEES OF &RACBE,53
^E-PAST six!" saidGertrnde,assheaiidPaol Maxwell stopped at a creek to water their horses, upon'their return from a morning ride. & *Bjem. we must fanny, or I will be top late for uncles breakfast.7* "There's plenty of time. It's only about two miles from here,9' said Paul, bestowing unmistakable glances of admiration upon his beautiful companion. But they were all lost upon Gertrude, as she sat grace fully stroking the mane of " Lucy," the pet of her ihiele'a stables, for the past was as yet too vivid for her to think of indulging in the female luxury of adding anrather tory to her list of conquests. No, she was & true and earnest woman. She had perhaps as few friYoiiiieB belong to her sex, and when her heart was enlisted in & cause it was almost a life-struggle to abandon it. She had promised her uncle she -would try and focgeSt whal was now crime to remember, and with all the of her nature, aided by his encouraging smi&s, and united prayers, she was gradually OTercoming viiat conquering him from whom she was separated. But He horses were through drinking, and gathering tibe ieas more tightly, and arranging her skirt with an Gertrade looked at Paul and said: " Xow for a race;" and away she flew akM^ the road tiiat was flecked here and there with

108 "AXGZLS AXD MDTBTEBS OF GRACE," ETC.

while Paul was close behind her. and at length tliey were

head to head. Too ambitious to allow this. Gertrude

urged " Lucy " to a qnicker speed, and passing within

the open gateway, outdistanced her escort by at least a

hundred yards, mnch to the delight of her uncle, who

stood upon the porch watching them,

" Good ! fine ! " cried Mr. Uall; and before Paul could

dismount. Gertrude sprang to the ground, and miming up

the steps gave her uncle a good-morning kiss.

" So you have concluded to try an old man's prescrip

tion \ "

" Yes, uncle, and I feel so much better," she answered.'

I,

while the delicate tinge upon her cheek made her look as

tempting as a ripe peach.

i

^ Ah! Paul, that was an inglorious defeat," said Mr.

Hall, as the young man joined them on the porch.

f

" But you wouldn't have me be so ungallant. sir. as to

beat a lady?"

" Xo, indeed, nor would I hare the fox eat grapes if he

couldn't reach them," said Mr. Hall laughingly.

6 Breakfast is ready, sir," said Ellen appearing in the

doorway, looking black and fresh as ever, and dropping

the inevitable courtesy. * " Come, children, come into breakfast; r and Mr. Hall

led the way.

^^

" Thank you. sir; I will not come in this morning, but

will ride down for the mail;" and bowing gracefully,

Paul left them.

When seated at the table, Mr. Hall said :

" What do you think of Paul, Gertrude \ "

* Well, really, uncle, I have never thought of him at

all," was the indifferent reply.

ASD

"Kever thought of him at aBP mad

vated his eyebrows in snrprfee.

"Come, come, chad, that mB net do! Tie iifsi of &

beautiful yonng woman being tlmiwu ia

with a handsome young man fur nearly two

then to say. die has never gre^i lisa a

fa ;

gether past my oomprehenson,"

"And thai is altogether attributable

vanity of your sex, nndte.5*

** Too mean the Taaity cf the s^>iof

said: u Bat yon do not think

" Rather good-looking."

"And gallant!" "Yes."

"And talented 1" a lshef a Of conree he is.39 a And why of course I*1 " Because X never lave do assure yon he can read, of Blaekstone in an hour, dom mcst-mea " I hope he's altogetner "wortny of ent," said the nieoe soiling. M He is, and if yoa had tbe have given you credit, ycsa
s$L Bat teU me. vixat did yoo zcad must be known that lie. Bail lad reading for hk hk'cnstom at hieakfKfc to had read the

&-'iiKi1i}fai".- !Jli:i:

110 "ASGELS AKD MESTSTEBS OF GRACE," ETC.

i
u Well, what did you discover about the illustrious

two?"

" A singular coincidence; " and as she hesitated, her

uncle asked:

"Whatwasit?"

u That while both were so eloquent, both were so cow

ardly. Or, in other words, no men could BO eloquently

remind their countrymen of their duty, and DO men

could abandon that duty more ingloriously than they did,

when the hoar of danger came."

" But they had not made military art a study," said

the uncle for the purpose of making her defend her po-7

sition.

u Xo man need study anv art to know how to defend



V

his country, if he has a spark of patriotism in his breast,"

was tne enthusiastic reply.

"But statesmen are needed quite as much as soldiers,

for who would make laws and carry on die government,

if you put all the legislators in the field ? ??

" There's no time for making laws when one's country

is invaded, and every man is needed to drive back the

foe," answered Gertrude with sparkling eyes.

"Admitting you are right, if every man went into

the army, who would take care of the women and chil dren?""

u Why, they would take care of themselves, and if need be, help the men fight! "
" Why, Gertrude, you would make a second Joan of Arc!"
a I hope I should, if my country needed me."
" Your patriotism may be tested one of these days, and tlien we shall see if you will put your words into execu-

"AXGEI5 AS

MIL

ton." said the unde wi& * sigii,, lor he looked .ta ward with gloomy forebodings lot the fstmre ef Ms
ooantry. IJ~e~Qsardin^5 his niece with admiratkxL. more forls^r in-
telleet than her beauty, he asked wiA Hrftefesfc : " What else did yoa read yesterday I ^ " Singularly enough, I opened Gifaljea at &e c
Kienzi, just after completing that of the already diseassed-53
~ This was a tittle angular; and whai d*d y from the life of the great Tribue! **
" Simply this: thatmen irhi> drifik asd give license,to their pa^oos. ean leaders

yon /read I Why, poo interest sae amaaiftgly,""'

nnde, and looking at her dkaeif, he ceatessjplafce*t

Bant fntore for her7 If she coold tly be cazeti

mad pasgion whidi at oae tioie fkreateaed bc^k terl^^i

and life. To this end, and Jar tSse parpcee of

her thoughts from hetsell,be had direesed her imisd

an nnosoal channel &w@mB% at

instead of

Byron's

or pacing over

novel, he

to her the readk^; of

her philosophizing npoiLSBbjecswithyof hkoimi^ieetion. And this is for there are nmnbeiB of cope successfully with ti*an, if to bean

112 "ANGELS A^TD SCSISTEBS OF GBACE," ETC.

Gertrude seemed reflecting, and as she did riot reply,

her uncle said a*^._*aiii :

u Was this your dav's work ? "

W

v

"Xo," she said, smiling, "for after closing Gibbon,

what should I do but open Macanlav at the life of Machi-

avelli 1"

" Angels and ministers of grace defend us/? exclaimed

Mr. Hall, laughing. " Well, do you learn anything from

this man's life ? "

** If I didn't, Mr. Macaulav fullv convinced me that it

J

m,

m,

matters very little how a man lives or what vile dix:trines

he disseminates, if he is eure of an apologist after he is

. dead."

" I believe he makes him the creature of circumstances."

" Yes, and excuses him upon the plea that he was the

exponent of the times in which he lived."

" Well, child, we too must cultivate charity, but we

must not practise evil because Machiavelli has taught us

the science so artisticallv. or because Macaulav has seen

*7

*

fit to excuse and defend it, ,V. But come,' v< ou have enter-

tained me so well this morning, that the time is slipping

by and my duties are being neglected. You fell upon a

singular quartette yesterday, but you have profited by

tlie lires of these men, and with nice discrimination have

judged each character according to his just deserts. Im

prove to-day as well, and when you are through with

your reading, come to me. I have some copying I wish

you to do."

With these words he entered the library and sat down V
to his writing. Leaning over him, Gertrude kissed his

brow and betook herself to her books, of which she was

daily becoming more fond.

soar

CHAPTER X1TL

50T MASLY.

dear boy, yoa wiQ rain

if yoa continue to drink as yon have

for the last two months/7 said Jd^ Baker

day; and there was deep concern in his face as

*

for he loved his nephew, and it .pained him

to see him throwing himself away as he warn

Clifford's face was flushed, and his uncle knew he was

himself, when he looked up and asked;

* Whose business is it if I dot 39 for he was distin

guished for the respect with which he universally treated

every one. It was rather an inopportune time to speak to

him, hut as it was now too late to

drawing a chair up near to his nephew, said ;

** It is the business of all who love yoa as I

His tone, which was kind and affectionate, had its cfieet

upon Clifford, and grasping his nude's hand, he said:

** Do you love me I ^

'



So love it seems was the need of this yoimg man's life

--the one thing which family, friends, and money had

failed to bestow, and without which there was

"Certainly I love yoa, Clifford, as if yoa wcte,

son, and feel the same interest in yoa. We aft

--yonr mother--your father--**

. "Stop! Never repeat such mockery to me

He loves nothing hat money and him^jf^ SUM!

NOT MAXLY.

god, which is money, he would sacrifice wife, children,

friends, soul, everything! Look at my sisters ! Married

to brutes, because thev had monev! Look at me ! sacri-

7

t/

,

ficed to my father's pride and married to an innocent

woman, whose life must pass and end in misery."

"Bat misfortune overtook your father, Clifford, and it

is not manlv for you to talk so."

V

tt

" Xo; it is not manly to have a heart, I know."

" Why, you talk about love like a woman," replied his

nncle, with something akin to a sneer.

" Because I love like a woman, and I am not ashamed

of it"

" But love is not the one great desideratum of life."

What is ?"

" Have you no ambition ?"

"Xot for ambition's sake : but had I married the

woman of mv choice, I should have had ambition for her

v

J

~?

sake."

" Bat you are not alono in this respect, for very few

men marrv the women of their choice. And would you

/

i,

throw away your life for a disappointment that comes to

almost everv one? " */ " Yon may treat it lightly, but this disappointment at

which you sneer has made me so wretched that I no

longer care to live. And every time I enter the presence

of her whom I have so deeply injured, I feel as i^t would

rather die, than stand before her with the lie which is

branded on my soul." And while he walked the floor

excitedly, his nncle sat perplexed, not knowing what

further argument to use.

Some time passed thus, when evidently a new thought

occurred to the Judge, for he looked up and said :

NOT MAXLY.

115

" Have you no family pride 1" " S'obtesse oblige made me what I am, and nobks&e

oblige will be my ruin ! " " Bo you not love your mother ? " " Xot love my mother?'' and pressing his hand to his

brow, he looked at the man in amazement, who could ask

such question. " Xot love my mother ? " lie said again, thinking per

haps he had not heard aright. It was a happy hit, the moment was auspicious, and

taking advantage of it, the Judge hurried to say---

u Have you no ambition to be worthy of one who idol

izes you as your mother does ? "

In an excited manner he said :

" Tell me how I can do it ? "

a By not drinking, by being true to those precepts which

she

taugO ht

YOU,

v

>

and

which

your
/

own

nobilitv v

of

soul

will

tell

YOU
f

are

right." O

- Turning away, he said with a sigh:

" My poor mother ! God knows I would not give her

a pang, if I could help it."

' Let it be the work of your life to try and help it.

You have marked ability, and a brilliant future awaits

yon if you will only be true to yourself."

" And what are the honors of men without happiness,"

said Clifford with a sigh, as he walked back and forth the

ofHce, with eyes downcast and arms folded behind.

" Perhaps the honors may bring happiness. Banish

love, and put ambition in your heart! "

" And is this your advice? " asked Clifford, pausing in

his walk and casting an ill-concealed look of scorn upon the speaker.

1

116

NOT MANLY.

"It is--because one is dishonorable, while the other is

an honorable possibility."

Then turning away, Clifford said in despair:

" 3Jy God, if this is the beginning of life, what will be

the end ?"

A few moments passed without a word, and then the

Judge said:

" But all tins is not what I wished to sav to YOU, Clif-

,

,

/

ford. What I wished to say was this : that your drink-

/

K

ing is being very much talked about, and that if you do

not stop it and give more attention to your affairs, you

will surely be defeated. In a few days you are to meet

V

*/

t*

your constituents again. Go to work now in time, prepare

a speech worthy of yourself; in the meantime, do not

touch a drop, and you may yet have it in your power to

turn, the tide again in your favor before it is too late.

Will you do it ? "

Taking him by the hand, Clifford said :

" Since you take" such an interest in me, I will try ? ? '

V

J

t,

and without any other words, the Judge repaired to the

court-room, and Clifford remained shut in his office in a

state of mind bordering on frenzy. The vigilant spirit of

the Evil One knew it was an auspicious moment, ai:d lost

no time in pouring fresh poison into the already bleeding

heart of the young man. It whispered :

" Happiness is a myth ; duty, a cruel infliction ; and life,

a curse." Thus, thought became torture ; with each mo

ment the craving in his heart plead for even a short re

spite from the stings of memory; and forgetting all his

pledges, he sought relief once more in the vile habit

which was daily tightening its clamp upon him.

INEVITABLE.

117

CHAPTER XVII.
INEVITABLE !
ITAT a subtle thing love is," said Paul Maxwell to Gertrude one evening, as they rested, after a lung walk, upon a rustic seat in the lawn at
'Pleasant Retreat, 1 ' Love again ! Of course ! 2s'o mutter how much the world may laugh, no matter
how much the world may sneer, yet into each life will this little tiling, called love, creep, sooner or later. And how much or how little it influences the lives of men may never be known to others, but the scars which it inflicts upon their hearts will go with them down to their graves.
" Yes," said Gertrude, with a guilty start, as if her se cret had been discovered.
" You cannot see it, you cannot hear it, you cannot tojucli it, you cannot taste it----you------"
" But you can feel it,' 1 said Gertrude with an impulse which she regretted, but. could not recall.
" Yes, you can feel it," was the quick rejoinder, as Paul reiterated her words; and leaning over, he gave her a burning glance, which startled her, for her woman's in stinct told her better than words what it meant. Until then, she had rested in a security that was based upon the old love which she fancied she had forgotten, and never suspecting that her very indifference but whetted de sire in Paul's heart, after the usual manner with which we all seek the impossible. That they had known each

118
other scarce three months didn?t matter, for Paul was as madly and as completely in love as if it had been the work of a lifetime. To the student of human nature, this will be no matter of surprise, and upon the day they met, we wrote it down as inevitable. Unlike most of her sex, Gertrude was neither a coquette nor a flirt, and her affections had been so deeply enlisted for Clifford Troup, that it seemed like sacrilege for any other man to speak of love to her. Thus, feeling so secure from the fascina tions of any one, it never seemed to occur to her that any one should be fascinated with her. ]Now that she knew it, it appeared absurd; for Paul felt much more like a brother, than a lover. She regretted it deeply; but what could be done? She could not prevent it, and to cure it --was quite another thing. And thus they sat--both busy with their own thoughts, the one wishing to J>e, the other wishing not to be--loved. The sun went down, the daylight lingered, the summer twilight came slowly on, the stars came tripping forth, the evening air fanned their cheeks, and still--they said nothing.
Not desiring to renew the conversation, Gertrude arose, and after a long and embarrassing silence^ said :
" I must go now; uncle will be waiting for me." " Stay a^ittle while--stay until I tell you that I love yon;" and taking both her hands in bis, Paul pressed them to his lipe. Withdrawing them gently, she said: " But you must not love me^" and turning, walked rapidly in the direction of the house, " Most not love you? " said Paul, following her. But she did not answer him, and as they neared the house he aaid again:

INEVITABLE,
" Why must I not love you ? " "Because----I-----." But the words were never uttered, for they were then at the porch, where Mr. Hall sat awaiting them and indulging in all kinds of castles, i in which they figured most conspicuously. The ever-faith ful " Eio " was lying at his feet, and wreaths of smoke from the inevitable pipe circled about his head. " You are late, my child," said the uncle. " But none the less welcome, I hope," was the playful rejoinder, as she stooped and kissed him. " Certainly not, when you give me such a greeting;" and he seated her upon his knee. " Don't you envy me, Paul ?" " Indeed I do, sir, and I only hope----" " Supper's ready, marster," interrupted " Ellen." " Hope what ? " asked Mr. Hall. " I only hope that one of these days I'll have a niece to love me, for I'm sadly in need of some one to love me."
" Tut, tut, what nonsense! when half the girls in the village are in love with you. Come in to supper, and don't talk such nonsense any more."
" Yon must excuse me this evening, sir; good-evening;" and bowing distantly he walked slowly away, to the blank amazement of the sage, who stood looking after him and wondering what was to pay.
" What's the matter now ?" asked Mr. HaH of Gertrude, as the truth instantly flashed upon him.
" Matter ?" asked Gertrude. " With whom I " ".Why, with Paul; that's some of your doings, Ger trude. I suspected as much, when you were oat so late." " Suspected what, nncle ?"

120

u "Whv, do you think I don't know ? I suppose it isn't

enongli to trifle with one mail, but trne to the instincts of

your sex, you must go on scattering ruin wherever you

go-" '

.

u Oh, hncle, what an unjust accusation ! " and she was

- readv to err, for she could not bear to think that her nn-

+'

*f '

cle thought so poorly of her as that Seeing that she was

really*. wounded,' he hurried to sawv: " Then forgive me, child; but I love that boy, and I

don't want you to fool with him."

" Nothing is farther from my thoughts or wishes ; and

to prove my sincerity, I must tell you that I have just de

clined listening to his avowals."

" What ? " said the uncle in surprise; but not wishing to

reveal his feelings ou the subject, he said: " Come, let's

go in to supper;" and taking his arm, they entered the

dining-room.

For a little while Mr. Hall sat thinking, for although

he was verv far from beine a match-maker, vet somehow

*

3

J *t

or other, away down in his heart, he had hoped that Ger-

trnde and Paul would fancy each other, and he was dis

appointed to have this little desire frustrated so soon.

Gertrude made a pretence of eating some bonny-clabber,

of which she was very fond, and said nothing, for Paul's

love gave her real pain, and in her heart she wished it

could have been otherwise. The dogs and the waiters all

seemed to partake of the mood of master and mistress,

and not a word was spoken, until " Rio" made known

his wants bv a whine. * u And does my good friend want his supper? " asked

the master; which question being followed by several

whines and barks, witk variations, supposed to mean

INEVITABLE.

121

" yes " he was ^iven a biscuit, and " Fanny" ordered to

*/

"

c_

give him his supper, which was always placed cm the

hearth fr him. " It's a shame, uncle, how you neglect i Troup ' for

1 Rio,' and i intend to take special charge of the poor

old blind creature ;" and her uncle watched her as she

stroked him

tenderlv on .

the

head, then '

fed him, for '

he

knew the name was the attraction. But, as yet, she didn't

know that he knew it:

" But that's the way ; our friends always desert us when

w are injtrouble, and when we are growing old."

" And pray, where did you learn so much misan

thropy ?"

v u Xevrr mind, I learned it; besides, ' Rio' is petted

and spoiled by everybody, and because poor old 'Troup '

can't s^e. he is neglected.''

* *% If Vou onlv knew how devotedly ( I^io ' loves me, you

V

*

.

' '

wouldn't wonder that it is returned. TThv, have you not

*1

V

noticed how jealous he is of you ? TV

" Xo, I hadn't."

" 'Well, now,

J

J

notice, every

J

i-

time

you
%-

come

near

me, 7

or

iiss me, he looks up with a sad, knowing look, and

crouches as closely as possible to me. Try it. Come and

sit on my knee, and put your arms around my neck,"

She did as her micle requested, when the dog immedi ately left his supper, and when she said :

" This is iny master. < Rio.'"' he put his fore-paws up on

his master's shouldej and whined as if Gertrude was do

ing something terribTe to him, and it was with di&eulty that Mr. Hall coald make him lie down. So faithful and

devoted are these poor, dumb creatures, that we think

their example is worthy of imitation by men. Seeing liow 6

122

i worried the dog for her to keep her position. Gertrude

took another seat, and crouching at his master's feet, " Hio r'

watched his rival ont of the corners of his big black eves.

O



'

while Mr. Hall said:

u 1 will tell voo of an act of his devotion. Some .vears ago, I had a friend stopping with me. and we were going

over to W------to a political meeting. The cars not running

to so it our engagement, we went from here in a top-boggy.

* Rio' had been with me on many of these trips, bat as

he was very annoying at booses where I stopped, I deter

mined to leave him at home that time; so,- I not onlv* sent him back, but made 'Harry' come and take him by force.

We drove on for some miles, and for^ettin^: all abont the

*

^--

^-

dog, stopped at a creek to water our horse, when a

shower of rain came op. and up;>n raising the top of

the bn^irv who shoold be coiled op back there but * Mis-

*~^r '

X

ter Rio.' Determined not to be outdone, I got out of the

boggy and drove him back home, as I thooght for good,

and we went on oor journey alone. The next day. how

ever, when the train passed Or----, ; Rio,' who had re

turned home, got on the cars, wey down to C----, the sta

tion where thev change cars for W------, made the chamre,



^_^

*

<_

and opon arriving at W----, jumped off the train and

came panting almost out of breath to the hotel where I

was stopping. What do yon think of that \ "

u That it almost equals any fish-story I ever heard;"

and provoked as he was, the uncle was obliged to f

laugh.

t

" It's the troth, whether yoo believe it or not,r he reit

erated. " Isn't it, 'Rio' ? r and a wag of the tail seemed

to sav " Tee." ^ " Ah! hot, oncle, you know what elastic consciences you

lawyers and politician? do have, and sometimes we have to take what YOU say cum grano.^
Thus, while the nncle and niece sat talking, the disap pointed lover plunged deeper and farther into the wocds, as if seeking to get away from himself. He was in love, and because that love was not returned, he was miserable. And yet there are people in the world who will laugh at this, and call it boyish. Bat they who can treat the noblest sentiment of the human heart so liv^htlv , know rothinsr of the bliss of loving and being loved, and may they never know the agony of loving and being disap pointed.

r
N.
1241

TRIUMPH.

CHAPTER XYIIL

TEIUMPH!

[HIKTT years ago, a barbecue was regarded with

nearly the same reverence that welcomed the

memorable fourth of July: but now, since free

**

7

dom means to be manacled in a prison outside of jour

own State, and patriotism means to steal as much as you

can from the- best government on the earth, why, these

ancient holidays are far too primitive and virtnons to-

attract die progressive men who sit at the political helm-

Then, honest Fanner Trot donned his brag suit of bine

and white checks which he was proud to say had been

woven by Betsey's own hands, and hitching the oxen to"

the cart, took Betsey and the children, all in their best

bib and tucker, to the barbecue, as the event of the season.

Pigs roasted whole, barbecued lambs, and cider were the

standard dishes and drinks, and among the penalties of

being a candidate were kissing the babies of constituents,

patting their pet d^s on the head, flattering tie old

women, and drinking cider with the young ones, with

now and then a promise from some proud mother to

name

her

next

bov *

for hinL

But,' alas! those cor^ood old

times are gone--the free air of heaven is ignored along

with the rights of free (?) citizens, and instead of the old-

fashioned barbecue, we have modern mass-meetiygs held

in dusty, crowded cities, in halls that are carpeted, while

u Jersey Lightning" takes the place of cider, and fric-

TRIUMPH.

125

i

as-sees and mringue3 are ostentation sly exchanged for

roast pig and barbecued lamb. Pet dogs and crying

babies are left at home, and the Farmer Troj/ of to-day,

with his Betsey, the one in " tights," the otj*er in dtignon,

and pan-iery having come to town bv^ne "keers," are

quite indignant to find the nisei ves^'seated in the gallery

along with the u poor white trash " and t; niggers." In

those good old days, men voted for-principles, and they

absolutely loved their country so ranch, that they would

*



J



as soon have thonght of putting spurious coin in the Com

munion Alms, as of sending bad men to legislate for

them. But all that is changed now--temperance and

patriotism are two old fogies that are set aside, and men

vote for thos^. who, by their superior knowledge of the

complex machinery of the Treasury Department, or other

A.

*



L

behind the scene villany, can furnish the largest amount

of spoils and the smallest amount of principles,'

Some persons consider this the most corrupt age of the

world; but we are not quite certain that we agree with

them, for tkere are still good men who proclaim God's

eternal trnnis, and there are some believers among their

listeners. But leaving philosophers, philanthropists, and.

ministers to fight the battles of the present, we will re

turn to the barbecue of thirty years a^o, where the fatted

/

.



v_ -

calf had been killed in honor of Clifford Tronp, the

youthful Aspirant for the position of representative from

the stanch old county of T----. w There were no great issues at stake in those days, and

the country was moving along as quietly as it ever can,

with such frequent elections, and ignorance as powerful

at the ballot-box as intelligence. But when the young

candidate arose, he was greeted with as much enthusiasm

126

TRIUMPH.

as if he had been some conquering hero returning from

a victorious campaign. This, perhaps, was to be attrib

uted to a recognition of the past services of his fatLer

and family, who had always been exceedingly popular ID

the

State r '

and

who

had

ever

borne

themselves v,

with

satis-

faction

and

ability

when

entmsted

with

office.

Clifford was verv ipale, when he stood before the ea^wrer,i

honest faces of the people whom he proposed to represent,

while the dark circles under his eyes were suggestive of.

suffering, and a strong will was barely sufficient to con

ceal a nervous tremulousness which was caused from

abstinence that morning. This unusual abstemiousness

had been effected by tlie earnest solicitations of Jud_re

Baker, who knew full well that if the honest, temperate

conntry people saw any symptoms of intoxication in their

candidate, that he would surelv be defeated. Clifford

J

V

was by nature an orator, combining a polish and strength

which was rare in so young a speaker. What he said was

so well and yet so simply said, that his words impressed

both the learned and nutanght; and in consideration of

this fact, it is no matter of surprise that he held the

uninterrupted attention of his audience for nearly three

hoars. To earnestness, he added a wit which relieved

the tediom of sober truths and facts, and a satire which

conld breathe the most polished but most scathing denrm-

ciations wk^necessity demanded; and when he tok h:s

scat, the woods rang with cheers which prophesied an

overwhelmin^victorr at the ensuing election. Jud<re

CJ



^^

*_

Baker, who liad represented the county for many yea re,

and who had declined the nomination in favor of his

nephew, being then loudly called for, responded in a

short but appropriate speech. He was then followed by

TRTCMPir.

127

two or three lesser lights, after which thev mingled with

^-

y



i--

the people and partook of the bounteous barbecue which

had been prepared for the occasion.

Clifford was verv much exhausted,/ and the desire for the accustomed drinks, burning like a consuming lire

within him, superseded every other thought. He was

restless, nervous, abstracted, miserable; and so will every

man be, who once lets the poisonous alcohol madden

his veins, by mingling its impurity with his life-bl> oJ.

Once taken, it creates an unquenchable thirst which cries

for more, more, more; and with such overwhelming

fury does tin's appetite increase, that the honors of the

world, love of family, pride, ambition, position, and even

tl:e hujke of Eternity itself, will be given in exchange for

the one drink of which the victim has been deprived for

a few short hours.

And what is this desire after all ? f

It is but a beastlv *

appetite--a craving of the stumach which conquers the

intellect, and makes demons of its followers.

Clifford could not eat, and after drinking several cups

of strong coffee, and trying in vain to talk to his friends.

<_

'



CT

'

he proposed to his uncle that they should go. Appreciat

ing, as well as a sober man can, the struggle Clifford was

making. Judge Baker yielded to his request; f >r they

had a long drive, and after many apologies for him,

whom he represented as not being well, they said good-

by. and t^x>k their departure, amidst the deafening cheers

of those simple-minded pec-pie, who believed the story

they had heard.

Xot well! What little words to. express the fearful

disease
_

which

racked

the

bodv

and

mind

of

Clifford

Troup.

128

TETOTPIT.

Xot well! no; nor would he ever be again, without a

stronsr will ^_.'

aided

bv it

Divine assistance.

Soon after thev *

had left the happy crowd. Judge Bilker said:

'; It has been a dav of triumph for YOU, Clifford, and I

*

L



/

s

congratulate you upon your success."

"

I

am

honored,

if

YOU
*

think

there

is

cause

fur

con^rat.

nlation in anything I have done/' answered Clifford,

sadly.

'The triumph has not been so srreat over y>ur con

stituents as over yourself; and I htj.>e that tin's is the beginning of a reformation which shall be permanent; *'

and

he

looked from the corners of

his

eves *.

beneath

the

hat of his listener, to see what effect his words w^uld

have, but Clifford made no replv; fr even then the

desire for a drink was so great, that it was dicult fur

him to conceal his impatience.

What a state of mind to be in !

And

vet
*.

those

men

who are slaves to this vile habit will here find a tree

picture of their inmost thoughts. They may not ac

knowledge it. but there is one Eye that sees ai:d kn-.-ws

the inner workings of this secret foe.

The rest of the drive was made in silence, and it vras full of apprehension for Judge LJaker, as to the future- of

him who sat beside him; while Clifford's whole life, past,

present, and future, was merged into one idea, and that

idea was, the quickest way to obtain a drink. How de

grading! and did we not propose writing the truth, we

.,should hesitate before blotting these pages with snch human depravity, or exposing such human weaknesses. Cut the writer who would do good must not shrink from

telling the truth, no matter how painful it i-, no matter liov much he would shield the creatures of his imagiiia-

TRIUMPH.

129

lion from the condemnation of the world. And who

knows but that God is using him as an instrument of

good, and perchance the words which he writes in ay be

the means of arousing some heart to a sense of its neg

lected duties, or reclaiming some recreant, who before

seemed joined to his idols.

Then, with this end in view, let no writer prove a mis

creant to the sacred trust reposed in him ; d not let him

write for his own self-exaltation ; do not let him pander

to the tastes of the public by flattering vice at the sacri

fice of virtue, but let him use all his influence to elevate

the standard of moralitv* . and to i<-- rlr.rifv, God. This shall be our aim; and if we advocate the right, it will not be

because we love to disclose unpleasant truths, but for die

higher purpose of doing good, and of warning the inex

perienced seafarer cf the breakers ahead, lie-rein" the

author's task has never been fully appreciated: f<-r who

can doubt but that it would be infinitely. more atg._ reeable to delineate a perfect than an imperfect character \ But

the question here arises, "Does a perfect -ehara -ter

exist'" If we reject die idea of original sin. r.nd be

lieve God a cruel, unjust Judge, who persecutes us

because lie loves to do it, then a faultless beinir mav

*.



exist, and everlasting damnation may l-e the myth which

fashionable philosophers and the followers of idealisms

tell us that it is. But, accepting the revealed religion of

Christ, and philosophizing npon the weaknesses of human

na. ture, we shall endeavor to do ~good,- bv lavin~g bare the cause and effect of those evils which are tolerated, if not

encouraged, by society. But we would not have our

readers suppose that we find a delight in the task to

which we seem driven:y and could thev* see the tears which
6

130

TRIUMPH.

are shed in secret over the human follies depicted in

these pages, they would understand that we were fulfil

ling a ernel destiny, rather than yielding to an agreeable

pastime.

Bat while we have been wandering, the Judire "ai:d

Clifford liave driven quietlv alonir. entering the village

J.

.

C"

^_

v_

just as the purple shades of tvrilight were settling dovrn

upon its deserted streets. .Being very much fatigued,

the Jnd^re sought the nearest route home : but Clifford ar-

<~

v_

rested this movement so far as he was concerned, for as

they drove through the town, he said:

u Let me out here : I must go by the office.^

Fearing there was some hidden purpose behind these

words, the kind-hearted Judge said :

*

"You had better come home with me. Clifford.*7

" I'll be up soon.r he replied, without looking back;

and while the Judge drove sadly home, his nej-Lew en

tered "The Everglades." a den of iniouitv. where the

C

.1

'

keeper trifled with human s-'uls. and only kej/t his OV>-Q

record stead-v* .' for the Cjjrec-dv love of c2ain. Calling for whiskey. Clifford seemed annoyed that the

man only half filled the glass, f.r his lufig abstJiieuce Lad

made him desperate, and when he held the gob let up and

said:

" Fill it,/" there -was such determination in his voice

as made this devil's servin^-nian tremble and obev.

C-

*

The mere fact of having swallowed the long-coveted

drink brought satisfaction, and even before the poison

had time to make itself felt in the effect desired, he ac

cepted the invitation of a friend (?; to join him in a

game of cards. The game had not proceeded far, before

Clifford called for another drink, and the friend (?j who

TETLMFH.

131

drank nothing, ordered a bottle of brandy f_-r the especial benefit of the man whose purse he was draining. Mat ters went on thus for some hours, and Clifford kept los ing and drinking, nntil reason was dethroned, sleep over came him. and his friend (i\ and the bar-keeper put him to bed in a back room, which was specially reserved for the weak and unfortunate. Here he slept until morning, and then, like a guilty wretch, crept home to his anxious and distracted wife.
And this was the ending of a day of Triumph!

132

DESPAIR.

CHAPTER XIX.

DESPAIE !

and envied,but in despair! IIow strange^

that in our selfishness we ,ignore the claim.-? of

others, and do those tilings which shall not only

recoil upon our own heads, but which shall make victims

of those whom it should be our duty and pleasure to

shield from suffering. Let no man or we>man s:ipj>ose

that theyt:an do wrong without giving pain to -others

than themselves : for we all have families, to sav nothing

j

'



t--.*

of friends, who shall be made happy or wretched by our

conduct.

Then, let us pause, if not for our own sakes. out of

consideration for those who have claims upojn us, before

committing acts which shall perhaps plunge the hearts

of those dear ones in mourning. If Clifford .had thought

for an instant that his conduct had any effect upon his

wife, the knowledge might have had some influence, for,

narnrallv ,' no man had a hicgher recgard for her sex than he did. But, wrapped in the gloomy mantle of his own

gad thoughts, he almost ignored her existence, never sus

pecting that she might possibly be as wretched as him

self. And how'could he ever know it ? She never com

plained--she never remonstrated. Xo. For although

gentleness itself, she had that strength within which can

endure in silence until the heart breaks. There are some

DESPAIE,

133

few women like this, who, though physically weak,; are

morally strong ; but the world is none the wiser, for they

pine awav in secret, and die without a murmur, some

times even their husbands failing to observe the* tears

that will come, the sighs that will not be suppressed,

the paling cheek, the unsteady gait, which to an anxious,

* loving eye would be more expressive than words. "We

repeat that husbands do not remark these prophetic but

silent SILTIS. \V*hv i Because tliev are too busv with

^_

*



*

themselves--1<*> busv with the world. Thev haven't

*

.

*

time to feed a starving soul, and less inclination to watch

thes breakin*g" of a human heart. So the bodv is nouri^hed. so the material is cared for. what else is there for

husbands to do? Nothing, surely, unless the eye of love

can see for itself.

How different with a wife! Should the husband's

brow be clouded, who so quick to discover it as the wife ?

Who so ready to soothe, to encourage, to sympathize with,

as she who has not even had a single word of love to help

her bear her little grievances i But then, the petty details

of a woman's life are held in such contempt by men, that

thev do not think therrTworth a consideration. Did their selfishness allow them to examine for themselves, they

would find that not all the great troubles of men com

bined, are half so wearing as the thousand and one horrid

little duties which dailv devolve upon women, sapping the

fountains of their youth, and making them old while yet

voting in Tears. It's to look after servants, to rive out



W

*

f

C7

meals, to have the house kept in order, to take care of

the children, to cut out, to sew, and to do a thousand

other little things too various to enumerate. Of course, a

woman expects to do all this when she takes upon herself

134

DESPAIR.

the duties of wife and mother; but suppose her husband

should come home after she has had a dav of unusual *,

-woiTY, and sav, ' ; Come, wife, leave all your cares now,

^7

*, 3

i



V

s

and take a walk or a drive with me ! T' Do you not sup

pose her heart would be lighter for the attention ? And

then, if he should talk to her and tell her how he loved

her, just as he used.to do in the olden time before they

were married, she would feel strengthened to meet any

fate that should be sent upon her. This is a very little

thing to do for one who has given her life, her love, her

all, into his keeping--it is less than nothing to do for the

mother of his children. Then, let husbands be more

considerate, more thoughtful, and we shall see fewer wives

prematurely old, with men in the prime of life; for all

dutv and no recreation will wear awav a stone. A worn-

/

V

an's whole life is a sacrifice, while a man's is one com

paratively of choice. Xow, let there be less sacrifice and

more choice for the woman, and more sacrifice and less

choice for the man; and while the one will be happier,

the other will be nobler: for self-abnegation always in-

*--

i/

creases our self-esteem. Let the husband keep up the

attentions to the wife which he gave to the sweetheart,

and no matter how rugged life's journey may be, she will

be prepared to defy its storms and to enjoy its calms.

B4jt with these little things neglected, life becomes a

painful disappointment, a cruel awakening from a beau

tiful ideal; and the yearning in the heart for that sym-

pathy and tenderness which is denied it, can only be

appeased in the grave, if, mercifully, it is not satisfied in

crime.

From the evening of the bridal party to the present

time, Virginia had heard, incidentally, of course (1), of

DESPAIR,

135

Clifford's devotion to Gertrude Lawrence. This knowledge

Lad been conveyed to her, not directly, but by hints and

insinuations and innuendoes--those cruel thrusts which,

like stabs in the dark, rankle, but cannot be resented.

And just here, we would like to ask, why people cannot

let well enough alone ? ^Vhv is it that tliev absolutely

*^~

l_

.



V

seem to hate to see the happiness of another? At first,

Virginia onlv laughed at what she considered a fancy of

v,

,

>_



the past; for she loved her husband devotedly, and did

not doubt but that he returned that love. Suddenly,

though, the trusting- child developed into the jealous

woman; and could the gossips have seen the agonizing

transition,J we think even their slanderous tongCTues would have been silenced and their malice appeased. True,

Clifford had never been veriy demonstrative towards her;/

and while he was thoroughly polite, he rarely kissed her,

\_

. JL

L

7

or bestowed upon her those delicate little attentions

which a refined and sensitive woman loves and appre

ciates. Simple child that she was, she had been happy

jin the belief that it was all right, until a merciless shaft

pierced her trusting, confiding heart; and now, her wom

an's instinct told her that he did not love her. A fear

ful discovercy for either husband or wife to make,J and a death-knell to all future happiness. She knew now why

he found no pleasure in her society, and why he absented

himself from her presence. It was because he loved

another, and in her tightened grasp she held the proof,

which was cruelly convincing.

Being entirely free from the influence of anything but

his own reason, the morning of the barbecue, and feeling

more keenly than ever how deeply he had injured the wom

an whom he called wife, Clifford was unusually kind and

136
M

DESPAIR.

attentive to her. Following- him to the grate, the tears

sprang into her soft blue eyes, as he tenderly kissed her

"good- by,v and she stood watching him until he was out

of sight.

Thankful for even so small a crumb, she returned to

the house in the happiest mood.

" Good-morning, Mann Judy," she said toher laundress,

who sat in her room awaitingd1 her. " Good-moniin', Miss 'Ginia ! Yer see I'se come soon

fnr de close, kaseit looked so onlikely fur mm, and here's

some letters I'se bin had lonsoj1 time. Dev*- come out'n Mars Clifford's pockets, and I'se bin layin' off to fetch

'em all dis time, but ever time I come, I forgits 'em ; "

and she handed the letters to the voung wife.

/

^J1

Thev were .

soiled and crumpled, and thinking them of no importance,

she

opened i

one, /

and

her

eve /

was

riveted

bv /

these

words:

OWN CLIFFORD: -- You ask me if I will always love you 1 How can you ask me such a question? Does not your own 1; >art toll you? and wicked as it may be. I shall love you until I die.
Never -- "

But Virginia could read no more; for the tears winch

O

'

sprang to her eyes blurred the words, and with a gasp,

she buried her face in the pillow upon the lounge where

she was sitting. She rested there but for a moment,

though :

O

"

then

remembering O

that

a

pair of
i

curious

eves ^

were upon her, she forced back her tears, and arising in

great confusion, said:

"The clothes are ready, Ma rm Judy, and I have no

doubt Mr. Troup will be much obliged to you for taking

care of the letters for him."

" Dey's all right, is dey?" asked the sable creature,

DESPAIR.

137

who was dying to sit down and tell " Miss 'Ginia," as she

calletl her, everything she knew, and more too.

" I presume so," said Virginia, with a powerful effort

to hide her feelings.

"1 jes thought dey monght be from his ole sweet

heart, Miss 'Trade Lawrinces--and dat was de reason I

took

sich

^ood
O

care

on 'em, honev :

i

\, 7

and den, TOR know,

f ,

7

Mars Clifford took to drinkin' so hard jis afore he gut

married, dat I don't s'pose he ever know'd he ever sent

'em out to wash."

"Did he love her so much?" asked the poor little

wife timidlv, for she was almost afraid to trust her voice,

+/ *

s

lest she should burst into tears.

" Lor, chile, yes. Dey was onsep'rable--dey was jist

like one -- dey was to^eder dav and nijrht : and de verv

/

O

.

CT1

7

i/

last hour Mars Clifford ever spent in dis here town, afore

he went to git married, was spent wid Miss 'Trude."

Then stealing a glance at her listener, and seeing what

a painful expression almost distorted her face, she hur

ried to add: \

1% 'Twas a shame, chile, too, and everbodv said so.''

J

*

*r

With a composure that was past understanding, and

h<pin:r against hope, Tiririnia said :

*

-_-

^-

1

'

W

"If he loved her so much, why did he not marry

her?''

" She be too pore," answered the dusky mischief-

maker. Then, with a knowing shake of the head, she

7

O

'

added :

" Dress-maker's dauhter nebber suit dem 'ristocratic

The girl he loved was too poor, but I am rich, thought Virginia ; and with a woman's quick perception, she now

138

DESPAIR.

saw the eolation to what seemed a mystery a moment

before,

*

,,

" But Mr. Tronp is wealthy, or at least his father is,

and it was not necessary for him to marry for money; "

and again she tried to delude herself into the hope that

there might be some mistake somewhere.

" Lor*, chile, you don't know nuffin, for folks sez dat

ole Mr. Troup done broke all to smashes, and dat he

married Mars Clifford to you to save de Manner;" and

having done all the harm she could, she took the clothes,

and hobbling to the door on her stick, said:

." But I must be goin'--ole folks will be ole folks, chile,

you know, and dey always gabbles too much if dey ken

git anybody to listen to 'em; so good-morninV

Then turning and seeing how distressed the poor child

was, she added:

"Don't take nuffin to heart Tse said, honey, kase it

may be all stories, for .people will talk and dey don't

always tell de truf."

But the warning came too late; the fangs of the ser

pent had deposited their poison; and no antidote could

counteract the effect now.

So, while the vile old mischief-maker hobbled off with

a grin of satisfaction upon her bronzed face, the stricken

wife sat pressing lier hands upon her aching heart, and

gazing into vacancy as if she would turn to stone.

What^ a fearful awakening from a happy dream! For

it is a terrible thing for a wife to realize that her husband -

does not love her. He loved another, and had married

her for her money. Had she heard aright? Was she

the same being of an hour ago? Then she stood at the

gate a blushing, trembling child, kissing her husband

>
t

DESPAIR.

139

"good-by." Now she was a full-grown woman; wretch

edness had developed her. The agony of a lifetime was

compressed into one short hour; and as she sat there so

still and rigid, the color faded out of her cheeks, the pain

became more intense in her heart, the dark circles be-.

neath her tearless eyes deepened, and she seemed turning /

into marble. Despair was written in every feature of/

her sweet, girlish face, and life was over for her before it

had begun, for she was one of the few whom grief kills.

No tears came to her relief; nor could she seek consola

tion from friendship, for not even to her own mother

wonld she confide the fatal secret of that morning. For

whv/ kill her mother ? No:" she would die for him she

loved, for she was in his wav. He wanted her money.

s

*/

>

Well, he might have it, both while she was here and

after she was gone. These were the thoughts that Vir

ginia indulged during the long tearless hours of anguish

that she sat brooding over the gossip of the old crone,

who had sent a death-stab to her heart with her cruel

words.

And this is not an isolated case,/ for South ern women talk too much to servants; and many honie^ have been

made wretched by the tattle of negro confidants^ where

no real cause existed for nnhappiness. In the ignorance'

and moral degradation, and in the flattering manner with

which their slanders are received, during the interval

that the dignity of mistress is laid aside for that of com

panion, may be found an excuse for the conduct of these

, unenlightened creatures. But what apology can be

offered for tliose men and women, who, being made in

GkPs image, go about retailing scandal as the pastime of

Ltellectual and accountable beings? "We fear there is a

140
*

DESPAIR.

terrible retribution in store for them; and it would at least be well for them to pause in their misspent career, and consider: What benefit can come from this discourse? Does it eflevate ? Is it charitable I Is not gossiping the twin sister of lying? Does it leave the conscience at ease ? Does it not degrade whoever indulges in it ?
But while we have been asking these questions, for which we ask a sober reflection, the husband has made a triumphant speech, the wife has been changed from a loving, hopeful woman into a Niobe, and now dinner is announced to both. Neither eat, but from what different causes! In truth Virginia did not hear the servant who told her dinner was ready, neither did she notice her when she brought the meal to her room. And thus she sat in silent, tearless agony, while the hours went by and the sun went down, and until the silver beams of a new moon fell across her folded hands and reminded her that her husband might soon be home. Not wishing him to see any traces of suffering, she arose, and putting the cruel letters away, made a fresh toilette with nnnsnal care, and went down on the gallery to await his coining. But during those long hours of crucifixion her plans for the future were made, and straight to the bitter end the innocent and injured wife wonld walk with the unflinch ing spirit of a martyr who felt proud to die in the cause espoused. Thus, instead of dwelling upon her own griefs and disappointment--instead of cherishing hatred for her rival, and resentment for her husband, she only remem bered how cruel was the destiny that had forced him to marry for money instead of love; and there was nothing but pity and. sympathy in her heart for the two unhappy creatures whom man's inhumanity had forever separated.

DESPAIR.

141

Then, resolving to mention to no human being the fatal

news which had blasted her happiness forever, she deter

mined to be gentle and tender to her husband, and, in

addition, to do all for him that money could do. Instead

of chiding, she would try and .save him, for it was now

evident to her that he was fast becoming a slave to his

cups, and without a speedy reform could be effected, it

would be too late. Naturally delicate, she felt that the

shock of the morning would soon wear her silently away,

and loving her husband more than herself, she cared not

how soon the end might come ; for then, with her fortune,

he intent wed the woman of his heart, and two souls would

O

J

then be happy, where three were now so wretched. This

is not unnatural, but only uncommon; for some few

women have lived who were capable of just such self-

abnegation, and who possessed the martyr-like spirit here

embodied in the character of poor Virginia. With these

thoughts in her mind, she went below, stairs and met

Judge Baker as he entered the front door.

" Where is Clifford ?" was her eager answer to his

" Grood-evenino^." " I left him down town. He will be up soon--or at

least he said he would," was the doubtful reply; and the

faces of both speaker and listener betrayed the anxiety

which they felt. Then, with too much wifely pride to

betray her real feelings, even in that presence, she com

manded herself and said:

" How passed the day \ "

" Triumphantly for Clifford, and if we can only keep him

straight for the next two months, his election is certain."

" What do you mean \ " asked Virginia^ with the quick

resentment of a wife.

142

DESPAIR.

u3&.J poor child, do not be offended, for I love Clifford

. as if he were my own son; bat lately he drinks tor/ much,

and I beg yon, if yon have any influence over him, to

urge him to stop, for if he continues to drink as he has

been doing for several months, it will ruin him forever."

" If I have any influence \ " said the poor wife. There

it was again! A fresh stab ! "Well, she couldn't expect

anything else, and gliding ont of the house, she walked

*

down to the front gate, and leaning sadly upon it, watched

for the coming of her husband. Scarce twelve hours be

fore had seen her standing in the same spot, a happy

wife; now she was a betrayed woman, an outcast, a

wanderer through the dark valley of Despair, with no

hope to cheer, no beacon-light to guide.

The twilight deepened, the sky became iriky black;

bat still she kept her silent vigil and peered into the un

fathomable darkness for the form which came not It

lightened, it thundered, and from the masses of black

clouds a storm burst npon her uncovered head; but nothing

daunted, she held her post, and still--be came not. Then,

through the terror of the darkness, a strong arm was folded

lovingly around her, and her uncle said in a kindly tone:

"Come in, Virginia. Your watching will not bring

him;" and without any resistance he led her to the house

and into her own room, where she sank down, with her

' drenched clothing clinging aronnd her. Conscious of

. nothing but a dull, heavy pain in her heart, she did not

know that the night was gone, until the first faint glim

mer of day-dawn was followed by the entrance of a pale

and haggard man. There were no exclamations, no tears,

nothing unusual; but extending her hand, she said in her

softest and sweetest voice:

L

DESPAIR.

143

" I am so glad you have come, flifford ! See, I have waited for you all night,"
The kind words touched his sensitive heart, and press ing her hand, he sank upon tlje floor by her side, and bury ing his head in her lap, said:
"Forgive me!"

A MOTHERS HEABT.
CHAPTER XX.
A MOTHER'S HEABT.
IHE dower which Virginia Deanng had brought to her husband,-and which her father generously gave into the sole keeping of his son-in-law, was
munificent beyond expectation. Secretly transferred to the proprietor of the " Manor," it saved that ancient es tate, besides liquidating some other pressing debts; there by causing the Hon. Mr. Troup to look the world haughtily, if not squarely, in the face once more, and again to bid defiance to that fate in which he believed more'implicitly than in his God. Thus, instead of feel ing thankful for the timely aid which saved his home and extricated him from dishonor, instead of beginning a life of reform, he triumphed in what he was pleased to call his "wonderful management," and again renewed the old system of extravagance and effeminate luxury, with out giving a thought as to when or how these new debts would be met His expenditures were reckless beyond description, and served to verify one of Thackeray's many truisms, when he says: " people never live half so well, as when they are comfortably in debt" So flattering him self that he was a man of destiny, and confident that fate would take care of her favored child, he cared nothing for the future, so the present gratified his boundless de sires, lie forgot that his own flesh had been tortured, his own blood spilled to satisfy the tyrannical demands of his pride, for in his thoughts there was room for nothing

A MOTHEB'S HEABT.

else bnt Self. Or if he remembered his son at all, it was

with a sneer for his weakness, and a hope that he wonld

soon be cured of his boyish folly. Thus, can love of

money and self-indulgence not only dwarf and distort

man's better nature, but it can obliterate and deaden

even the ties of consanguinity.

How different with the mother! ! ! No amount of

money can stifle her affections; and instead of gratifying

tbose inordinate desires which ace born of selfishness, she

is always thinking, " What can I do without ?" And

whatever it is, the value of that self-denial will be cheer

fully given to those loved ones whom she has borne

and nurtured. The thought, " What can my children do

for me ?" rarely suggests itself to the mother, but it's al

ways, " What can I do for my children ? " and in thinking

of her boyr Mrs. Troup felt that she would gladly give

home, friends, position, everything to make him happy.

Before his marriage, he used to write her.regularly once

a week, and his letters were so full of hope that the read

ing was like taking a fresh lease on life. Afterwards

though, at long intervals, came some short, cold, and un

satisfactory notes ; and at length these were succeeded by

a silence which was cruel in the child and hard for the

mother to bear.

s

From gossiping tongues the news of Clifford's excesses

reached the family servants, and through them the re

ports became known to the agonized mother. He was

the subject of her thoughts and prayers by day and night,

and her heart went out to him hi one great throb of sym

pathy, for she knew only too well what was driving him.

to such recklessness. But, alas! what could she do?

She was powerless--she could do nothing except to give 7

I 140

A MOTHER S HEABT.

him her love and her prayer!, and these she gave without

reserve. His conduct wounded ner pride; hut, mother-

like, the lower he sank in the esteem of the world, the

more he was deserted by friends, the more closely her

heart-tendrils entwined around him, for a mother never

forsakes. Then, while a mother's heart is so unchanging,

it seems cruel that children should forget her claims, and

return her unwavering;^ devotion with neglect and indif

ference. In this respet Clifford was not unlike many

others: and although in his heart he adored his mother.

f

O



t

in his conduct he shamefullj? disregarded her claims upon

him, thus filling her each day with new anxiety, and giv

ing fresh pain where it would have been merciful to pre-

Tent it. This is not right; and if we could only remem

ber how our mother cared for us during infancy; how

tenderly she watched us during the silent hours of the

night, when every other eye was closed in sleep; how she

laughed in our joy, and mourned in our grief; how from

childhood to manhood her devotion never faltered; how

from the cradle to the grave she is the one friend who is

true as Heaven--we would pause before giving her one

moment's pain, Frpm that evening, when Clifford knelt

in the twilight at his mother's feet, and said in despair:

u Mother, pray for me," there had been a dull, leaden

weight about her heart, which nothing had the power to

lift. She had grown thinner, her cheeks were paler, and

her hair had suddenly become gray. But with mother,

as with son, it was not so much a regret that he was mar

ried to the lovely Virginia as it was a regret for the mo

tive ; and to this womanly woman, as to her manly son,

came the ever-recurring thought of a deep injury done an

innocent girl.

A MOTHER S HEART.
But while the mother's heart ached sadly for her boy, the father, wrapped in his own selfishness, was rearing new gods to worship, and devising endless means of en joying this life to jts fullest extent.
And yet there was nothing mean or little in this man's nature. He didn't even know he was selfish. Do any of us ever know this, or acknowledge it ? No; he was the victim of weakness and frailty, which made him substi tute pride for paternal love, and expediency for duty, un til he had now but two ideas--the one was to keep the name of Troup up to its proud old standard, the other was to save the " Manor," let it cost what it would.

148

WHY HOT?

CHAPTER XXI
WHY NOT!
|T had been unusually quiet at" Pleasant Retreat" for the last few weeks--indeed, ever since that afternoon when Gertrude said to Paul: "You
must not love me !" Mr. Hall was immersed in politics, Congressional re
ports, and a heavy correspondence--Paul had taken his books home to study, only making his appearance with the mail in the mornings, which it was a fancy of his to bring, and withdrawing as scon as Mr. Hall had ques tioned him upon his studies; while Gertrude was trying hard to forget by assisting about the household duties, and by devoting a portion" of her time to the reading and exercise which her uncle's wisdom had suggested,
Mr. Hall missed the gay society of his young student, and still entertained a faint hope that he might yet be his nepBew one day; but not believing, as some others fool ishly do, that women can be reasoned into loving whom soever their grand-parents, parents, uncles, aunts, or other relatives think it wise and prudent for them to marry, he discreetly said nothing.
u And pray, Gertrude, since jpou are so concerned about my not having married, may I ask if you expect to live single all the days of your life ? " for they were on the subject of matrimony again, and Gertrude, as usual, was teasing her uncle about being an old bachelor.

WHY NOT?

149

"Why iiot?" she said archly, and smiling in the ear

nest, pale face of him whose deep black eyes regarded

her seriously.

" There are some good reasons ' why not,'" he answered

gravely; " and now, laying all sentimentality and foolish-

^ness aside, since we are on this subject, let us have a sensi

ble, practical talk."

" Agreed, uncle," said the bewitching girl, who had com

pletely captivated the old man's heart; and sitting on a

stool at his feet, she added, with a pretty pont of the lips:

*" only I hate to listen to sermons on week-days, they seem

so ont of place."

" You nanghty girl," he said, smiling.

" But come, what are the reasons ?" she asked, at the

same time looking down to hide the mischievous smile,

which she felt was at least disrespectful to one whom

she well knew had only her good and happiness at

heart..

''First of all, then, your mother is your only protector,

and according to the laws of nature it is reasonable to O
suppose you will survive her. If you do outlive her------'*

" Oh, nncle," she said, in a tone of distress, then

bowed her head upon his knee. Stroking her hair, he re

peated, slowly and solemnly:

.

" If you outlive her, to whom will you look for love

and protection V

u To you, uncle," she answered, while her beautiful face

was contracted with pain.

" To me, certainly, if I am living; but, my dear child, I

am a^slender thread to cling to, for, as you know, I am

only a wreck, and the probabilities are that yon will long outlive me."

150

WHY SOT?

a Oh, uncle, do you want to kill me ? " she now asked, while her eyes were swimming in tears.
a So, my child, no. On the contrary, I want to pre pare yon to live the life that is before yon. I want to make yon understand that when one resource fails there are others to take its place. I want to teach yon to battie with fate, instead of yielding to it. Do yon know what I would like yon. to do? "
a What! 77 was the eager response. "Marry some sober, honest, energetic, and intelligent yoong man, who would take good care of yon." The suggestion was received without comment, and they lapsed into silence. After some little time, the nncle said: " What do you flunk of it, Gertrude ?" With a sigh, and looking down, she said : "I cannot doubt your motives, nude, but yon djurely would not have me marry just for the sake of marrying." "No."
a You would not have me marry a man nnless I loved

Evading her question, and perhaps as much for the sake of argument as for the purposing of discovering her real feelings, he said :
" Did it never strike you that this feeling called Love is a thing of the will! "

"Nor that it is an ideal thing?" "It surely is not tangible, but it is powerful!! " was the earnest reply. "Well now, my child, let us reason a little on the sub ject. In your calmer moments, when passjou and jndg-

WHY NOT*

151

ment are eqnallj balanced, you will acknowledge that no

man possesses the god-like attributes with which a

woman's love endows him. Do yon admit this f "

u I suppose I must," was the reluctant answer.

** Well, then, upon a close analysis of the emotions, per

sons in love will find that they are worshipping an ideal

that exists only in the imagination, instead of a living,

breathing reality. See, if you admit the first proposition

you must admit the second. Then, why not say to your

will, * I will love this or that man;' bring your imagina

tion into play, and the thing is done,"

K Oh, uncle," said Gertrude impatiently. a Yon reason

upon a subject of which you know nothing! You have

never been in love! If you had, you would know how

powerless one. is when under the influence of what you

call an ideal emotion. You would know too what bliss

and what despair it can bring, and how it persecutes the

victim it holds within its grasp;" and as a flood of emo

tions swept over the chords of her soul, she bowed her

head upon his knee and wept.

,

" Oh, my child, my child! Is this the way yon for

get ?" and hopeless as the task seemed of making her

bury her idol, Mr. Hall did not despair, for he believed &

strong will could conquer any feeling, and more espec

ially if one can be made to realise that honor demands

the sacrifice. This he hoped to impress upon Gertrude,

and indeed he had already done so; but at times the old

love came,"back with such force, as to submerge all new

resolutions, and send both her will and honor drifting out

to sea, without chart or compass to guide.

liaising her head after awhile, and looking right into

her tear-stained eyes, Mr. Hall said:

152

WHY HOT?

a My child, I have only been talking, just for the sake of argument, and for the purpose of getting at your real feelings, for there's no man living who appreciates more thoronghly than I> do, that love must spring from congen iality of tastes and temperament, and that it is not a thing of the wilL And again, when yon say that I ' reason upon a subject of which I know nothing, and that I have never been in love,' let me assure you that you talk upon a subject of which you know nothing, for no man has ever loved more devotedly, yekonore hopelessly, than I have. Let this knowledoge be a consolation to y/ ouy;" and with a deep sigh he drew her to his knee, and folded her in his arms.
So, the man whom the world thought without feeling, " had been in love; the man whom the world thought utterly indifferent to women, bound his wound in secret, and, Portia-like, endured in silence.
u This is not to be spoken of, though," he said, as she hid her head upon his shoulder and wept; " and I only told it to you to show yon that you are not the only one who has loved and lost. Come, now, don't cry any more; forjit pains me to see tears in your eye; " and arising, he kissed her brow and entered his a Study," while she stole quietly to her room, to wrestle with her memory, her heart, and her wilL ,

A TRUE WiJfJS.

153

CHAPTER

A TJSUK WIFE.

|OT a murmur, not a complaint, no reproaches,

nothing but kind words, ever came from the lips

of Virginia for her husband; for she was con

vinced that if kindness failed to reform him, harshness

wonld be still more unavailing. And now that she knew

the secrets of his heart, a tender sympathy was added to

her love, and she appreciated that he needed encourage

ment rather than censure. That she did not upbraid him'

may seem strange to some, and her charity may possibly

call forth sneers from others; for the greatest of all the

virtues; according to St. Paul's idea, is regarded by men

as cowardice and want of spirit.

Virginia was independent, though, of either the ap

proval or disapproval of the world; for having sufficient

moral courage to do right for right's sake, and being sus

tained by that help from on high for which she daily

prayed, it was not possible far any human power to swerve

her from her purpose.

*

'

She was a wife, and remembering this, she determined

to do her duty, no matter if her husband failed to*do his.

She married him in good faith and because she loved

him, and the fact that he married her from mercenary

motives did not lessen or relieve any of her obligations.

She did not care for themone*v* .but the fact that he loved another pierced her heart like a poisoned dart; and yet
7*

154

A TRUE WIFE.

she was brave enough and strong enough to lock this un fortunate secret in her own bosom, and to walk bolofc forward in the discharge of her wifely duties. The story had been divulged to her in an underhand way, but her resolution to keep her husband from suspecting that she knew it, was firm, although her heart should break in the attempt. This was a brave determination, and perhaps martyrs have gone to the stake with les^ heroism than the fulfilment of this pledge required. She was unselfish, and in the possession of this transcendent virtue was to be found the motive which prompted her not to allude, either by word or act, to the unhappiness which her husband could no longer conceal from her watchful eyes. Such selfsacrifice will not be appreciated 'by many, for it is a natural delusion of man to think every one happy but himself, and when the shadows come, to fancy all others luxuriating in the sunshine. With, the insight of a woman and a wife, Virginia felt that she was not necessary to her husband's happiness long before the fatal secret was revealed to her, and had flie cause been anything less than love for another, per haps she would not have had* so much charity for the loan whom she idolized. Fully appreciating that that was a feeling which cannot and will not be controlled, her heart was full of sympathy for him who was the victim of a combination of circumstances which were beyond his eontzoL
For a little while succeeding the morning when he knelt at her feet and wept some contrite tears, Virginia bad strong hopes of a permanent reformation in her hus band, but the demon which rankled in his bosom again

A TRUE WIFE.

155

drove him to excesses, with its harrowing memories and torturing accusations. Thus will men ever find "excuses for dissipation, andr although acknowledging its ruinous effects, will not struggle to be released from its fiendish bondage. Clifford was punctilious to a fault in all out ward attentions to his gentle, uncomplaining little wife * but, as we have before remarked, fe-those nameless acts --those delightful nothings which love alone suggests, he was a stranger. And because Virginia did not seem to feel slighted, he thought she was satisfied. Many hus bands think the same, when, if they could look into the hearts of their wives, they would see how yearningly they were throbbing for love-words and acts of tenderness. Clifford was not insensible to his wife's kindness and. thoughtfulness, and sometimes, when it grated upon him,' he would say:
" I am not worthy of so much kindness, Virginia;" and then, when she would answer: " Yes, Clifford, yon. are, for I love yon," he would shrink away from her and sa*yj to himself:
" Oh, God! if she didn't love me, this life of deceit wouldn't be so hard to bear."
Then, after a few words like these, they would relapse into the silence which inevitably fell upon them as soon as they were alone. Feeling it a duty to be at home sometimes, Clifford would occasionally remain in the evening and attempt to while away the time by reading to his wife. Soon growing weary of this, and restive under the loving glances of her soft blue eyes, he would fly from the house in sheer desperation, and joining some gay companions, would go to " The Everglades," or some

156

A TBXTB WIKJ&

other saloon, for a game of cards or billiards, which it was quietly understood would be interspersed with drinks.
Thus" night after night, and day after day passed away, Yirginiarkept herlonely vigil as sacredly as she kept
her secret, for she was in every respect a true wife.

GOIHG AWAY.

157

CHAPT]

\ GOING AWAY!

did you say, Paul I st said NT. Hall, looking

np from his paper at his young friend, who sat

by the table with a troubled expression upon his

manly face.

" I said I was going away, sir," repeated Paul, without

looking up.

" Going away! What for ? " asked the statesman, with

a frown of disapproval.

"Because I am not satisfied here, sir, and I think I

can do better elsewhere."

" Where are yon going ?" then asked Mr. Hall, as

coldly as if he felt no interest whatever in the matter.

"Out West somewhere, sir. I have not yet decided

what place."

*

" Oat West!" said the statesman, with a dubious ex

pression. " To the modern Utopia, which lures our young

men from their homes, in search of fame and fortunes

which they never realize. But you will not go until

after you are admitted to the bar ? "

" Not until after my examination, if you please, sir,"

suggested Paul, with his usual timidity.

u Ah! the admission is a foregone conclusion,''

u You are very kind to say so, sir."

u Ifs only a week or two off, is it not I"

"That's an,

158

GOOJG AWAY.

a And yon go immediately I " "At once.5*
a IB your mother willing ? " " I have only intimated it to her, sir." a And what did she say? " She opposed it" u And you still persist in going? " " That is my present intention, sir." "You will allow me then, I hope, as one of your father's best friends as well as your own, to enter my protest against the movement, and to remind you of some
of which you do not seem to think." Certainly, sir!" u.; In the first place, then, I think you owe it to your widowed mother, as her oldest son, to stay with and pro tect her; and in the second place, you owe it to your native State to remain within her borders, to work for her good, rather than to go in search of strange lands to serve and new gods to follow after. What do you say now ? " " J think your views are correct, sir, and under more auspicious circumstances they would be mine. But I am not happy here, and I fancy, when surrounded by new acmes, I may be more contented." "Not happy? What have you been doing? for as Victor Hugo rightly says, 'our acts make or mar us.' " "I fear this is an exceptional case, sir, for really I have been doing nothing very bad." "No man ever did, by his own consent. But tell me, what makes you unhappy, and why this sadden decision? Come, yon have no secrets from me, or at least should not have."
"Hut is true, sir, and I do not wish to have."

GOING AWAY.

-

"Own up like a man then, and tell me what is the trouble."
" Since ycfa flatter me by asking my confidence, sir, I will tell you that I love your niece, and that her rejection of me has made this place intolerable."
"And is it for^ a girl that you are going to abandon State, home, friends, and family? "
" Doubtless you consider me very weak, sir, and I may be, but this affair has made me so unhappy that I can neither study nor be at rest here any more."
Seeing that his young friend was in earnest, and with the hope of driving him from his purpose, Mr. Hall's usual sagacity suggested at once what course was best to pursue, as he said:
" How often have yon courted the young lady ?"
"Once, sir.
"Once? only once? Why, you don't deserve to suc ceed ! Court her forty times, and if need be, an hundred and forty times; always bearing in mind the motto: ' Faint heart ne'er won fair lady.' Was the world made in a day? Suppose you had read only one page of Blackstone, would you now be ready to be admitted to t!e bar ? Abandon your Western trip, lay siege to this young lady's heart, and by your hope of success, never iay down your arms, until you have carried the citadel! Once! Why, that child's play I Don't you know that women love to be coaxed and begged and petted ?
* Excuse me, sir,--I should have sought your advice hefore. but I did not dream you were so well posted in regard to a cJass whom you so entirely ignore."
a Bat I haven't gone through life with my eyes closed, s you see; and ! assure you I have been the confidant of

160

ooise AWAY.

BO many men, both single.and married, that I might as

well have had all sorts of love-scrapes and been mar

ried myself. And besides, who says 'that 1 ignore the

fair sex? It is not true, for although I have never

married, they have no warmer admirer than myself, and

<j the older I grow, the more convinced I am that all men

should marry. It is a duty they owe their country, not

less than themselves, for there comes a time when the

State no longer needs them, and then onW pan they find

O

*

/

,

9f

comfort and happiness in the retirement of home. An

other reason is, that marriage is right according to our

religion, and should be the normal condition of man.

As a promoter of virtue the institution should be en

couraged, and my advice to all young men is to get

married."

u But suppose you can't I" asked Paul, whose face had

brightened, and whose heart had taken fresh hope at the

words'of his revered mentor.

a Oh, but you can! Now, let me tell you something!

Yon have taken your books home--bring them back and

study here as you did before. Call upon Gertrude, send

her flowers, books, music, papers, fruit, anything. Be

cheerful, and let her see that you do not intend to die,

even if she did discard you, and my word for it, you will

notice a difference in less than a week. Walk with her,

ride with her, tell her you are going away, but don't

mention love to her; and the first thing you know, you

will become necessary to her: this you will find out, and

when the proper time comes, you will make the assault."

"Agreed!" said Paul, arising and grasping the hand of

Ins friend.

" Go now and get your books, for Pve wasted as much

oonro AWAY.

161

time upon you and your sweetheart as I can to-day." And taking up his paper he resumed the reading of it, while Paul w*ent whistling across the lawn, with eyes for no one, "ears for nothing, when suddenly a familiar voice said:
" You are in a happy mood this morning."* " Why, Miss Gertrude ! Where in the world did you come from ? Did you drop down from the skies ? " and he shook hands with his beautiful via-d-vis. "Xo, I came from a walk in the woods. But what makes you so joyous ?" " A conversation with your uncle, for really I should feel anything but joyous." "Why?"
"Because I am going away soon, perhaps never to re turn ;" and he watched her closely to see what effect this little ruse would have.
With surprise in her face, and nothing more, she said: " Pm sorry to hear it, for my uncle will miss you." Simple words, and spoken without any intention to wound, but they fell upon Paul's heart like a well-direct ed blow aimed by a premeditated hand. " I shall feel flattered if he does," was the cool reply, and with a " good-morning," he passed on. But his face, that was a moment before so beaming, was now clouded; there was an absolute pain in his heart, as he despaired of ever winning her he loved, and for days her words sounded like a dirge in his ears.

*- --j

WEABDTG.
CHAPTER XXIV,
WEABDTG!
buoyancy and hope of a few months ago no longer stimulated Clifford to action; his ambi tion was dead, his duties were attended to after a la&tuDn, and thus another noble life was being added to the victims of the cnp. The life was telling upon him, for the bright bine eyes of other days were heavy and bloodshot, his cheeks flushed and blqated, his manner impatient and restless, his words hasty? and latterly inter spersed with profanity--something which in former days had been a stranger to his lips. This is not surprising, for it is the work of the poison which he daily imbibed to degrade, and as he sank lower and deeper and more sorely, so will every marc go downward who gratifies tin's low appetite at the sacrifice of reason and of selfrrespect. So the wretched days went by, and thinking only of him self, he failed to discover that some secret cause was preying upon the health of his wife, and wearing her young life away. He did not notice that her step was languid, or that she was pale and thin, or that even as cending the steps quite took away her breath. Oh, no! these are such, little things, and then--she never com plained. Had she have told her husband that she was ill or suffering, no man would have been more ready with words of sympathy, no man would have sought medical skill more quickly. But it is this very blindness,

WEABDTO.

163

this cruel neglect, that makes wives endure in silence, and that, at last, places them beyond the need of watchful eves or loving words. Xo matter how they keep up, no matter how cheerful they seem or how uncomplaining they are, the disease is in the heart, it is wearing away the life-blood drop by drop, and nothing but love and kind ness can stanch the crimson stream. Oh, husbands! is she whom yon call by the sacred name of .wife sick--is the mother of your children lonely--do you absent your self day and night from home ? Does a sickly pallor now take the place of roses in her cheeks--is her merry laugh changed into a sigh--is her light step slow and weary? If so, recall the day when* you bore her from her father's house a blushing bride; think of those times when you told her how dear she was to you; go to her, comfort and cheer her, be to her what you voluntarily promised to be in those love-days that are gone; and in the evening of life, remorse will not be added to the long list of neglected duties which shall blast your peace of mind with their painful recollectipns. No matter from what motives men marry, there is no law, real or imagined, that exempts them from the performance of certain duties which the marriage relation imposes; and try as he did, Clifford was not sophist enough to reason himself into this way of thinking, or to reconcile himself into believing that his continual neglect of his wife was right. Then he attempted to quiet his conscience by fancying his conduct must be above reproach, as she found no fault, and even tried to make himself believe that she neither cared for nor desired any demonstrations of love on his part.
However, the feeling that he had injured her was fast \

164:

WEABDTG.

wearing' away, for under the eon-opting influence of vjjjjoojjior his better impulses were yielding to the bad, and
the latter readily excused any omission and sanctioned any neglect. So, day by day, two lives were being wasted, two hearts were wearing away, bnt to each other the causes wonld be tc nameless evermore."
Clifford now had an additional grievance, and it arose from the fact that his father was making fresh demands npon him for more money. The thousands that had been furnished him had gone, no one knew whither, and the ct that, his father was again upon the verge of bank ruptcy, and that he again called npon him to save him, drove Clifford almost to suicide. What ^o do he knew not, for rather than go to his wife or her father for money, he would die.
One evening, while this new trouble was heavy upon him, instead of going down town as usual he went up to their room with his wife. Folding his hands behind him, he Walked slowly back and forth the room, with his eyes bent upon the floor. Virginia took up a book, but it was not to read, for her heart was full of forebodings, and "her watchful eyes followed her husband in the hope of divining his secret grief.
At length, seating himself at the table, he took up a book also, when his wife, no longer able to endure the silence, leaned upon his knee, and said, with tender anxiety:
u Clifford, what is the matter with you ?" "Nothing," he said, indifferently, without raising his eyes from the page. Naturally timid and shrinking, she was now embold-

WEASOTG.

165

cued by the hope of alleviating her husband's troubles,

and said, again:

"It grieves me, Clifford, to think that you do not confide

in me, that you never talk to me, and it is killing me to

see that I am just nothing to yon;" and here the over

charged heart poured forth its long and silent struggles

in tears. The words came from her without any will of

her own; they were wrung from her by suffering. She

regretted them, for she had intended going down to the

grave without giving him a hint of how deeply she felt

his neglect.

^

" Virginia!" came in surprise from Clifford's lips, and

folding her in his arms for the first time in many months,

a fresh reproach added its harrowing sting to many

others; for" until that moment he believed his wife to be

as indifferent to his attentions as she seemed.

So little do husbands know of their wives!

While she lay weeping in his arms, he said:

" Forcjive me, Virginia; but really I have nothing to

telL"

Nothing to tell! nothing to say to her who should

share his every thought! What a reflection upon the

sacred relation they bore each other: aud yet how often

does it happen!

Let husbands look to their firesides-; let them remem-

ber that they have the world for society, \>ut their wires

have only them. Let the attentions of the honeymoon

bo extended into the years that are to come; for as the

cares of life multiply, as the delicate constitution yields

to the shock of motherhood, as the roses fade from her

cheeks, she will need your love, your tenderness, more

thaji ever she did in the gladsome days of liappy youth.

166

WEABIKG.

Then she had admirers by the score; then she had father, mother, sisters, brothers, home; now she has but yon.
Don't forget it; bnt when yonr eye falls npon this page, if there are dnties left nndone, if yohr heart smites yon, don't let your pride keep yon from doing a simple act of justice; but go to your wife, show her these lines; there's no need to say a word; but press her to yonr heart, kiss her she will understand then go yonr way, and try and be a better and more attentive husband.
And if yon sliould not love her God forgive you if you have injured her to this extent be more mindful than ever, and try to let your acts of tenderness supply the deficiency in your heart.
For some time the sobs of the young wife alone broke the silence, and they cut deeper and deeper into Clif-ford's heart each moment; for in his soul he abhorred himself for what he had done. Wretched enough to die, and not knowing what to say, he sat holding his stricken wife in silent agony.
Then, when the first storm of ^rief had subsided, she raised her head, and said, with such composure as she was able to command:
" Pardon me, Clifford, but I saw something troubled you, and I thought I could help you; I hoped, at least, you would not refuse my sympathy."
Although gently spoken, her tone was slightly reproachful, and Clifford hurried to say:
" My poor child, I do not refuse yonr sympathy, bnt it is only a money matter that troubles me, and I did not care to worry you with it."
"Whatever worries a htisband should worry a wife,

- -^- A-r-.^

WEAEETO.

167

and whatever gives pleasure to him should give pleasure toiler."
"Virginia, you are an angel;" and seizing her hand, Clifford kissed it, in his usual hot-headed, impulsive style.
But his heart smote him afresh; for with all her trans cendent virtues and beauties of character, he did not love her; although she was his wife, his heart would not be forced into loving her, and he added earnestly and truth fully:
" I am not worthy of you! " Then letting her little thin, white hand drop, he rested his head upon the table and sighed a deep sigh. Without noticing his last words, Virginia said: " What about the money, Clifford ?" "I want a certain amount for a special purpose, but I fear it will be impossible to raise it," he answered, with out looking up. What is the amount ?" He named it, and then taking his hat walked out into the summer starlight, then down town, then--into a drinking-saloon, while the wife sat in her room weeping, because she was so miserable. Thus two lives were wearing wretchedly away; but the son shone, the flowers bloomed, the birds sang, and the world went on all the same.

ies
CHAPTER XXV.
fortunate that men and women are not ex pected to go on doing the same thing forever, like Tennyson's monotonous little a Brook!" What a stnpid world if they were! Nor do they ex pect to march to the end of time all abreast down a long lane that never turns, even if the philosophers do tell us that reason is a straight line. No, indeed! for Hogarth's nice little idea about a curve being the line of beauty, upsets all soeh straight-laced doctrines as these too com pletely. For does not the world go in for beauty, with reason at* contrairef Exactly! and sometimes with the d 1 in foil view. "Uncle, mother writes that she is nearly crazy to see me I" said Gertrude, handing hfm an open letter, which she bad just finished reading. u Well! * answered the maternal relative, still looking over his paper; fof when was a man ever doing anything eke? If there are no papers,up yonder, what will they do with themselves ! Worry the angels correspondingly ? "And I say, I am nearly crazy to see her," again sug gested Gertrude, u Well ? " taking np another paper, which eulogized file action he took upon a certain bill in the late Congress, and looking through it with tliat feeling of gratification which springs from knowing one's efforts are appreciated.

FOREVER f
True, tbe papers were in regular order at the time we make our descent upon u Pleasant Retreat," for it was morning, and the hour, breakfast Mr. Hall sat at the head of the table poring over his papers, as before intimated-- Gertrude sat upon his right reading her letters, and Pan! sat at the foot, reading a paper, of coarse. For once, broiled chickens, waffles, hot-rolls, muffins, omelets, and coffee lost their charms; and from the way the mail was being devoured," 'Liza-Jane " feared their appetites would be appeased before they reached her tempting dishes; for she came and went from dining-room to kitchen, being a silent spectator of all that was going on, and thinking to herself that one of her breakfasts was worth more than all the papers and letters in the universe. " Ellen " had served tbe coffee, and " Fanny " kept her fly-brush mov ing energetically, although there wasn't a fly to be seen, and still nothing was touched. Standing it as long as she could, " 'Liza-Jane " now made her appearance with hot waffles, and having handed them around without elicit ing any attention whatever, she took the liberty of touch ing the head of the family and saying:
u Marster, ever'thing's gittin' cold; why don't yer eat 1 Dem chickens iz jis as nice as can be, fur one o'em is dat speckled pullet, and totlier one is dat yaller-leg rooster what I showed you 'isterday when I was a feeding 'em. Don't yer 'member ?"
" Yes, yes, 'Liza, in a minute;" and he went on with his paper. In despair, she then appealed to Gertrude, saying:
u Hab some o' dese waffles, Miss Trade ? Bey's nice and hot"
8

170

FOSKYKB!

" Thank yon, laza, I will," she said, as she was now through reading her letters; "for as I am neither a Sen ator nor a candidate for Congressional or State honors, I am not so deeply interested in the papers, and I will pro ceed to eat my breakfast"
" What's that you are saying, Mim Impudence," asked the uncle, who, no matter how deaf he was to the appeals ef every one 'else, always had an ear open to whatever she said; and laying down the papers, he proceeded to follow her example, by eating his breakfast
"Nothing of importance to a Senator," replied the niece, with an audacity that was pardonable in such a pretty woman.
" Indeed \ " answered the Senator, trying to look very
dignified and austere. " Was it, Mr. Maxwell I" " Certainly not," said the addressed; and the truth is,
he would have sworn that black was white, or any other absurdity .that Gertrude desired, so gratified was he at being noticed by her at alL
"Oh! of course, Mr. Maxwell is too polite to disagree with a lady. But here, I want all this nonsense between yon two stopped; and I want you, Gertrude, to call that boy Paul Bo you hear?"
" May I \ * she asked, with a bewitching smile, and an irresistible glance from/ her expressive gray eyes, which thrilled him with a strange delight as he answered:
" I shall be only too bappy if you will;" and from that moment his infatuation was more intense thaji ever be
fore. "Well, now, that being settled, tell me, Gertrude, what
it was you were saying about your mother."

J

FOREVERI

in

* I said she was crazy to see me."

" Of course, a woman is always crazy abont something.

If it isn't a dress or a bonnet, it's a child or a poodle, or

something else equally insignificant!"

" A child or a poodle!" exclaimed the indignant

beanty. But her indignation was only momentary, and

she joined her uncle and Paul in their laugh iii spite of

herself.

u Come, don't go into heroics, child. It's too hot, and

besides, they are out of date."

" Uncle, you've no more feeling than a brute!"

-/~" a Surely, now, we can play quits and each feel suffici

ently avenged. But tell me, what are you going to do

with this crazy mother of yours ? "

" Fm going to see her!"

u The mischief you are ! Who said BO I"

"Nobody!"

" How do you know you are, then ? " -

ft I just know it!" (womanly.)

" Who's g< ing with you ? "

u I doii't know that either!"

u Nor dun't care?"

" Xot particularly."

" I3ut I thought you were to stay with me ? "

Forever *"

H

Certainly !"

,

" When Fm married, and for all time ? "

" Of course!" and a meaning glance exchanged with

Paul might have revealed a fond desire, if not a secret

understanding between the two. But it was lost on

Gertrude, as she answered in surprise:

u And never go to see my mother!. Why, uncle!"

173

" TOBKTO!

> Withoot noticing her reference to her mother, he said:

"When do you go?"

"Atooee!"

" But yon haven't asked my permission ? "

u Bat I win, though;" and leaving her seat she knelt at

iiis feet, aix^Tested her round white arms npon his knees;

then clasping her little, soft white hands together, looke^i

up into his face hi her most killing way, and said:

"Dear ancle, may I go home to see my mother? "

The veriest woman-hater would have been vanquished

by such a beautiful petitioner, and raising her to a seat

on his knee, Mr. Hall said:

" Ah me! you women know so well how to steal into a

man's not"

heart

and

carry

him

captive, '*

whether "

he

wilfe

it

or

" Do we, though ? And if we do, who has been bold

enough to dare to try to steal into your hard old bache

lor's heart"

/

"Here is the daring little rogne;" and pntting both

arms around her, he kissed her affectionately, while his

heart glowed with a warmth for her thai he had never

felt for any one else.

"I feel much complimented, uncle, and I trust I shall

never be supplanted."

"No danger; never fear."

u But am I to go home?"

*Jf yon will I suppose yon must, and I want you to

tell year -mother to get yon ready to g< to Washington

with roe."

" Oh unde, how delightful that wfll be!"

"It is now the last of September--I shall go in No

vember, so yon have plenty of time."

WOKEVEK,

173

" Oh dear, how charming that will be!" then catching a glimpse of Paul's face, which instead of reflecting back her happiness, as she anticipated, wore really a sad ex pression, she harried to say:
"And will you not take Paul too?" for the first time calling him by his name.
"Of coarse, and 'Liza-Jane,' and c Harry ;' and we
will keep house, as we do hereX " I certainly am obliged to you both," said Paul, "and I
only wish that I could join you, but by November I ex pect to be in the far West." " What nonsense! to talk of leaving dear old Georgia. I wouldn't give her for every other State in the Union."
"Good!" said Mr. Hall, as his heart echoed the sentiment of Gertrude. " Spoken as my niece* should speak. But, Paul, I thought you had abandoned the Western trip. At any rate you will take another trip first,
and that will be to see this young lady home, as it is im V
possible for me to go with her."
" Bat suppose Paul doesn't want to go ? " asked Ger trude quickly.
" But he does want to go," was the ready rejoinder.
" But suppose I don't want you to go ? " she asked with a side look from underneath her long, dark lashes.
" That alters the case," was the disappointed Teply. " Don't mind her, Paul; she's dying to have you go, but you know women are never happy unless they are tor menting somebody. So Fll leave you to fix it between you, for I have already given too much time to your non sense this morning." " Nonsense, uncle 1 " said Gertrude with a pretty pout; but only a puff of smoke came back to her as he entered

FOREVER?
his study, and sitting down by Paul, she helped him, without intending it, of course (?), to lose his heart more hopelessly than ever; and no doubt, as they sat there talk ing, the Western trip was entirely forgotten.
Who knows I
J

A CHECK!

175

CHAPTER XXVL

A CHECK !

WEEK later, Virginia handed Clifford a check for the amount he had named; but upon looking

at it, a hot flush swept over his face, and tossing

it into her lap, he said :

" Virginia! How could you mortify me so ?" " Mortify you, Clifford ? v and the gentle blue eyes were

suffused with tears. " Yes, mortify! for your father will consider me a beg-

gar!"

.

(

"lie does not even know that-it is for you. I asked

it for myself; and besides, what else has he to do with

his money but give it to me \ lie has often told me that

it all belongs to me, and has especially requested that I

shall never hesitate to ask him for any amount within

his means." But Clifford did not answer, even if he heard, for his
pride was deeply wounded, and he was thinking bitterlft

of how his father had influenced him to degrade himself,

instead of teaching him to ignore money that did not come legitimately, or that was not the result of manly

lal>or and industry. But even though his father had not

instilled these^precepts into him, they were born there,

and his native nobility of soul was outraged, when he re

membered that he was little better than a beggar. True,

176

A CHECK!

he wanted the money, because it would save his father, because it would relieve his mother, because it would again rescue the dear old " Manor," but as yet he could not bring himself to the revolting act of touching that
check. Noblesse oblige " said " take it!" Then why did he hesitate ? Because his conscience said, " you married that girl
for her money," " you are receiving and not giving," " you art taking what is not due, and you know it is Throng."
What a troublesome thing a conscience is! There was nothing little in Clifford's nature; indeed, he could not even contemplate a small action without loath ing, and had he been left untrammelled, he would have died before doing for himself what he had done for his
father. "Noblesse oblige!" a pretty motto for a seal, and a
beautiful tbeosy in the abstract. Bat when it means a sacrifice of all moral obligation,
when it means an utter disregard of the better nature, when it means to set at defiance God's holy laws, is it so beautiful!
Granting, which we all do, that it is right and proper for families to stand by each other, it does not follow that it is a filial duty to commit crime in doing so. Truly, " money is the root of all evil," and he who makes it the motive spring of his life, he who puts it in the place of his God, will admit a demon into his breast which shall give him no rest, and which shall corrupt the moral facul ties so that vice will seem virtue.
While Clifford sat buried in thought which must have been painful, judging by the troubled expression upon

V A CHECK!

177

.liis face, Virginia sat watching him with feelings of the deepest anxiety *nd sympathy, for she loved him.
What mattered it then that he loved another.?
He could not help it, neither could she help loving him; more's the pity for both.
So, in that hour, she forgot all his coldness and indiffer ence which cut into her loving heart like a keen blade-- she only remembered that he was in trouble--that he was unhappy, and with her woman's ready sympathy she asked fierself: " What can I do for him ? "
She had offered her assistance--it had been rejected-- and with her usual timidity she almost shrank from mak ing another effort But a woman who truly loves cannot sit down with folded hands, when the loved one is suffer ing ; and so, with all the courage she could command, she leant on the table near him and said:
" Clifford, I beg that you will take this check. Do not do it because you want to, but simply becauseJ[ ask you to." Still his position remained unchanged, and he seemed buried in the most painful reflections. Watching him with intense interest, she said again:
" Something troubles you. I do not know what it isj* but God knows, if I could help you, I would love to do it." They were simple^words, but so full of fruth that they touched Clifford's heart more than a thousand passionate yprotestations from any other lips would have done.
For an instant there was a pang in his heart, there were tears in his eyes, and drawing Virginia to him with one arm, he said:
" My poor wife! if you knew all, yoa would pity me; " and leaning over, he pressed his lips to her brow.
"Why not tell me all,, then, Clifford? Why do you 8*

178

A CHECK*

not confide in me ? I feel that I am only a wife in name --I fear I am only a burden, instead of a comfort to you. Come, Clifford, tell me all; will you not ?"
" God f I cannot! " and pushing her gently from him, he walked the floor impatiently, while she, poor child, leant back ,in her chair, and tried to choke down the tears that were bursting from her heart. Cannot! Is there anything yon cannot tell your wife--she who should be alike the partner of your joys and woes? If there is, remember while you read these lines, that there is a wall growing up between you, which, in coming years, no affection can climb over, no amount of love can batter down. For there comes a time when "too late" is written down as the result of such conduct; and you will find then, to yoor sorrow, that you cannot retrieve the past. You may mend the futirc, but remember, that when a heart is once estranged by slights, by coldness, by continual neglect and indifference, that all the attentions, all the devotion, all the assiduity in the world cannot put baek into it the freshness, the confiding love, the warmth, which has been frozen out of it. A deep chasm lies be tween lyoa and. the happy past, when you could have built up in your wife's heart a great love for you. The dreary, cheerless present is upon yon; the bleak, hopeless future is before you; and on the banks of this chasm, so close that yon might clasp each other's hand if you chose, you walk singly down the declivity to eternity. What a picture! Yon two, who should be one! You two, who should be the support and comfort of each other's de clining yean, trudging on alone. And yet this is what must come, if you begin your married life without love, and then live that life strangers.

A CHECK!

179

"Clifford, I ask you again to take this check;" and slipping her hand in his arm, Virginia joined her hus band in his walk across the room.
" If you'll promise not to hate me,'Pll take it;" and he looked searchingly into her face to see if .she could say one thing and mean another.
"Hate you, Clifford?" while her soft blue eyes re turned the searching look he gave. " That would be im possible I " and looking at her love-lit face, one could not help believing that she spoke the truth. Then turning to Clifford, it did not seem strange that women adored him, for he wa& handsome, intellectual, fascinating, the soul of honor and chivalry; and his faults, as we see, were de veloped by wrong paternal training, and a chain of cir cumstances which were beyond his controL
It's all very well for successful people to say, " I would have risen superior to circumstances; " but if they have been so fortunate as to steer clear of the breakers, we think that charity would be more commendable than arrogance, when they see a brother threatened with ship wreck. For let them remember, that so long as life lasts, and even until their bark is anchored on the shores of Eternal Rest, there is danger.
The wife's last appeal and assurance ^Kpn! Clifford took the check, and going straight to his office, enclosed it in a letter to his father. The communication was enough to have moved a heart of stone; but, doubtless, upon its reception, it will be tossed into the fire .with oaths, while the check will be seized with all the avidity which a man can feel who has made money his God.

180

MAT I?

CHAPTER JSLX.V11.
I?
[EBTBUDE had now been home several days and of course everybody knew it--for an inci dent in the village was almost as rare as a case
of small-pox, and in consequence, not to be overlooked. Her arrival formed the principal topic of conversation
in the community, and the fact that Paul Maxwell had escorted her, was sufficient provocation for the committee of arrangements to announce an engagement, and appoint an early day for the marriage. They did everything bat make die trousseau and issue cards of invitation ; and some of the extra-knowing ones said that u all that prepara tion for Washington meant a wedding."
Everybody had been to welcome Gertrude home, and muck to the chagrin of the few (?) visitors who loved, not troth less, bat news more, the name of the strange young man was not mentioned by either mother or daughter. This was more than woman nature could stand, and for revenge, the invisible class of reporters known as " they ay " wore a pretty little story, which, for warp, woof, and filling, was all their own.
Mrs. Lawrence found Gertrude much stronger in health and happier in spirits, and with that fond delusion which makes desire belief, she flattered herself that five months of absence had worked a radical change in her daughter for the better.

MAY I? *

181

She thought she had forgotten the "old lore," and secretly hoped she was on with " the new;" for Paul was a great favorite with both mother and uncle, and accord ing to the world's phraseology, " a good match for any girL" So little do mothers, even, know of the hearts of their children. True, Gertrnde's past was bnried oat of sight, bnt was it forgotten ? She was a woman of deep and lasting feeling, not a humming-bird flitting from, flower to flower, and down in her heart were memories which death alone could uproot But the roses again bloomed in her cheeks, her step was light and elastic, and her laugh and song once more rang merrily through the house. The neighbors, whom she ran in and "bnt to see, were delighted to have her back, and in their eagerness toTll her all the news, never failed to inform her of how dreadfully dissipated Clifford Troup had become, or ol how wretchedly Mrs. Troup looked. These things, Ger trude well knew, were told to her for effect; but the curious eyes that watched for a blush or a tremor were disappointed, for she held her feelings well in check, and quietly dismissed the subject by saying:
" The reports must be exaggerated." As much as she heard, though, she was poorly prepared for the wreck she met in returning Mrs. Baker's call; and indeed it was difficult to realize that the pale, sad woman, who exchanged- the usual conventionalities with her, was the blooming bride from whom she parted a few months before. Yet it was true, and such is the havoc that a mind diseased can play with a body that is healthy. Strange to say, Gertrude had not yet even caught a glimpse of Clifford, bnt to those who know aught of the inner feelings, it will be. no matter of surprise to Lear

183

MAY I?

that they thought of each other mutually. Perliaps it was the wrong thing for them to do, bnt they did it nevertheless, an<J meant no harm in thos thinking.
Paul's visit was now drawing to a close, and as tliis was his last afternoon, Gertrude had promised him a drive and a walk through The Terraces.
The horses stood pawing impatiently at the gate, and while the yonng lady in question, was giving the finish ing tonclies to her toilette, her escort walked thoughtfully back and forth upon the vine-covered gallery, dreaming of tlie future--of what it might be.
For once, be it remembered, one human being took the advice of another; for since the day when Mr. Hall ad vised Paul to do his wooing by actions rather than words, he followed his counsel to the letter. Scarcely a day passed but he sent her something--a bouquet, a basket of fruit, a bunch of grapes, a book, a piece of music, or some little thing which spoke more eloquently, yet more delicmtely, than words. Words would have been rejected, and perhaps have induced a coldness which would have been a-death-blow to even friendship between them; bnt the little gifts which were daily sent and daily accepted were softening the heart unconsciously, and perchance, paving the way to future success. Who knows ?
However, our surmises may be all wrong, for there never have been any fixed laws by which to judge of womankind, and measuring the future by the past, there never will be, so long as a woman's a-woman.
"Yon see, Paul, punctuality is not one of my virtues; I hope patience is one of yours;" and this was the apol ogy for detaining him nearly one hour behind their ap pointment--something not unusual for women to do, since

MAT I?

183

their minutes are other people's hours, and seconds a

period of time not set down in their calendars.

"With his heart all in a flutter, Paul forgot all the car-*

dinal virtues, and all the cardinal sius, and everything

but the beautiful woman before him, as he gallantly re

plied :

" To wait an eternity for you would be nothing, so you

came at last;" and his very soul beamed through his

eyes, as he spoke.

"Come, come," said Gertrude, blushing and feeling

very uncomfortably, as he handed her into the buggy;

" you must not flatter me."

" Why not ?" taking up the reins, and rather glad of an

outlet for what he feared was too muck enthusiasm for

the present.

" So you confess it was flattery 1 " with an arch of her

faultless eyebrows.

" I'll confess anything you wish me to," was the playful

rejoinder.

" And are these the teachings you have received at

6 The Retreat'? I'll have to report you to uncle."

" But you can't expect to confine a man to any teach-,

ings or any particular theories, when he is in the presence

of a beautiful woman;" and again his heart poured forth

its fulness against his will.

" Why, what is the matter with you this evening I I

never heard you talk so before. But see, what a lovely

place we are passing!"

j

" Yes, it's very beautiful; but speaking_ of your nncle,

would you believe that he was ever guilty of planning a

love-campaign?"

"No, never!"

184

MAT 1?

*

Fot for himself, but for a friend !" "No!, he never thinks of such silly things!" with a
sneer. " Such silly things, jdid you say ? *

A rapid drive had brought them to The Terraces, and as they entered the beautiful grounds, Paul wa saying :
u But you didn't mean what you said ? " u How do you know ?" evasively.
_ -. u Which is worse, flattery or falsehood ?* u Falsehood ? " and as Gertrude stood beneath one of
the numerous arches of evergreens, in those bewildering gardens, she tried to look indignant, but upon catching a glance from Paul's mischievous eyes, she couldn't help laughing, at the same time saying ; u I think yon are very
impertinent ! " u A thousand pardons," gracefully lifting his hat, " for,
really, I didn't mean to be; " and as he looked into her face, she could not doubt his words. " Am I forgiven? "
" O^, I suppose so; but don't let us waste our time in such idle talk, when we have only a little while to enjoy this lovely spot;" and with these words she turned down one of the broad, shaded avenues through whose over arching boughs the setting son was forcing a few strag gling beams. Paul followed her, and said,. rather re
proachfully:
"Such idle talk!? " Yes, I never feel like talking here ; I always feel sOenced by the beauty of the sarroondiiigB. See here ! " , and as they stood beneath a grand old oak, Paul followed / the direction of -her finger, and read, in German text of evergreen letters upon the ground : " God is Love."

MAT I?

185

"That's my doctrine," he answered, "and I have

always argued and felt that if the world is not saved by

lore, that it can never be saved by fear; for men will not

be ruled by the law of compulsion, not even in the salva

tion of their souls."

Busy with the memories of other days, Gertrude wan

dered on silently, until they* reached a spot known as

" the parlor," the furniture consisting of arm-chairs and

divans cut out of the*cedars.

There she sat down, while Paul walked leisurely back

and forth, and the quietness of the hour stole over them

like the inhalation of some soothing ether, lulling their

senses and making them feel at peace with all the world.

Gertrude's face was always sad when in repose, but Paul

fancied there was a pained expression mingled with the

sadness that evening; and so there was, for the grounds

recalled the happiest hours of her life and the most

wretched. Forgetting that any one was near, a sigh

escaped her, and she only remembered that she was not

alone when Paul said :

. Why do you sigh I*

"For the days that are no more." Paul felt an un

comfortable twinge about the heart at these words; for

the gossip about her old love-affair had reached him during

his stay in- the village, and although he fancied he was

indifferent to the Qimors, a little pang just then told a

different story.

~

*

a I wish I could recall them for yon, if they would give

you pleasure;" and he watched her to'see the effect of his

words,

u If you would not give me pain, recall your wish," she

186

MAY I?

said, with an attempt at a smile, which ended in a sign.
Then arising, she walked on, saying: "You should know the lovely woman who presides
over these grounds; bnt if, as they say, one's life takes coloring from their employment, we ^should not be sur prised at her purity of character, for these flowers and
her God are her daily companions." "With such companions I can readily believe all that
yon tefl Hie, for next to communion with God, there can be no associations so refining and so pure as the society
and cultivation, of "flowers." Then they walked on silently, beneath trees covered
with ivy and surmounted with rustic bird-bouses, around \ which the swallows flitted, beneath arches of evergreens,
down ivy-covered terraces, past beds of heliotropes, ger aniums, oleanders, and orange-trees; on through the twilight air, which was heavy with the perfume of myr iads of roses, through patches of light and shadow, by murmuring fountains, while the young crescent kissed the whole with its silver beams, and the birds twittered good-night, and a grayish purple haze settled down upon the lovely scene. When giving one last lingering look,
ffcey felt, "how beautiful!" Their souls were surfeited to sadness, their natures
were soothed to gentleness, their hearts were too fnil for utterance, and driving slowly down the lawn, they almost regretted having come, since they had to leave; bnt neither spoke. Gertrude felt that Paul was too much a member of the -family to be talked to unless she felt like it, and only too glad to indulge any whim of hers, he was kind enough to leave her alone; so they drove silently
along in the deepening twilight.

MAT I?
3

187

A few moments more, and they stood at the door of her home with clasped hands.
" Good-by," said Paul "Oh, dear; don't tell me 'good-by.* I never say c good-by' to any one."

"Bnt I'm going away, and perhaps we may never

meet again." ft So mnch the more reason why I shall not say c good-

by.' So go--go qnickly, and Til run and get an old

shoe to throw after you for good lack;" and while she

went to put her words into execution, Mrs. Lawrence*

came out and said:
" Will you not remain to tea, Paul ?"

u Xo, thank you, as I have only time to arrange my

' little matters before the stage leaves. Have you any mes

sages for your brother ? "

" Yes; tell him we are well, and that I owe him many

thanks for returning Gertrude to me s strong and happy.

Tell him, also, that I will have her readv for the Wash-

J

7

w

iugton trip--but, I have a letter;" and as she went in to

get it, Gertrude came out laughing and saying:

" Why, haven't yon gone yet, Paul ? The shoe is

ready;" aud she held up a tiny slipper to verify her

words.

u Xo, I haven't gone, because I hav a request to make before I go."

"What is it?" *

" May I write to you I"

" If you like;" with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Don't be so indifferent! Will you answer my

letters?"

*

188

"I suppose!" with a tantalising air, as her mother

joined them.

^

Oh, mother, Paul wishes me to correspond with him.

Hay 11"

a Certainly, my darling; I have no objection. How

ever, do as you like." Then handing the letter to Paul, he grasped her hand,

and said:

"Good-by, Mrs. Lawrence. Too surely have no objec

tion to telling me 'good-by.?"

f "Only the pain of parting with owe I like so ranch."

It was hard to conceal his real feelings, and be as in

different as he thought it best to be; but he was equal to

the occasion, and, assuming a gayety which appeared ex

ceedingly natural, he turned to 6ertrn.de, and said,

smilingly i
*Good-by!"

"No, no, not that to me."

a What most I say, thenl"

"Anrevair!" U A* r&xrir, then, with aH my heart!" and bowing

b gracefully, he took his departure, while Gertrude laugh

ingly threw the slipper after him. Stooping, he picked

it up, and, turning baek,;neard Mis. Lawrence .say:

* Why, daughter!"

* Why, mother!" then fell upon his ears ; and harry ing on in the starlight, he thought:

a If she only loved me!"

189
CHAPTER AJLVUJL
LONESOME !
YOUNG girl sat with beautiful hands folded idly upon her lap, looking oat of the window at the sk*y.t bat she didn't know it was the skv. Now and then she heaved a sigh, bat knew it not. Anon she took ap a book, bat to throw it down. Then she tried her music, bat ended as abruptly as she began; and if the troth most be told, she thought it would be an immense satisfaction to pitch the piano into the ocean, for thos refusing to comfort her once. Then, she tried to talk to her mother, hot after a few questions and as many drowsy monosyllables for replies, the conversation died. Sewing was then resorted to, bat as the needle only pricked her finger, that was soon aban doned in despair. Sleep was then thought of as the last hope, but the coquettish goddess was not to be entrapped that day, and thus the last resource proved as great a fail ure as the first. At length the neighbors were thought of, bat they were dismissed with a shudder, and this semiwretched girl finally settled down to being lonesome and miserable in dead earnest. t The world, that great ignoramus, that thinks it knows everything, bat really knows nothing, said she ought to be very happy; and as the world said so, it ought to have been so; but was she ? Else why was she lonesome?

190

LOTTESOME.

WJB it because a bright face that she. had seen daily

for months was gone ?

She would not admit, even to herself, that this was the

cause; but we, who have no concealments to make, will

acknowledge it for lier.

^

And so she sat--not only lonesome, but lonely.





"Pleasant Retreat" looked like it had famished a first-

class funeral for the sober reflection of the world, and the

master wore the air of chief-mourner, as he said alond:

"How I miss her!"

And so yon see people do soliloquize somewhere else

than in Shakspeare's plays.

It was no matter of surprise that he was lonesome, for

is it nothing to have life, light, beauty, and youth taken

from out a crumbling ruin? is it nothing to have the

warmth and sunshine taken away from a heart that must

borrow its freshness from just such a source ?

Is it nothing to sit waiting for a merry laugh--a light

song--a sweet kiss--a quick footstep--a lovely form--a

loving word ? Try it, and see if you will not be lonesome

when it is taken away.



*^







*





*

And No. 3 was lonesome too! Only think of it! Three

human beings in this busy, bustling world, and all so

lonesome! Listless, he sat with Blackstone open before*

him, and the pages tantalizingly reflected her beautiful

features. Then he would sigh and look at the trees, and

even they looked dreary; the air was, heavy with looe-

someness, and his dog, partaking of his mood, looked as

disconsolate as his young master, as he snapped drowsily

at the flies which tormented himT

191
Then there-was au absolute {pang came into his heart, as he remembered her indifference. Of course h was all abont a woman--misery and mischief generally are. From being lonesome he became restless--the hcse be came intolerable, and throwing down his book, he went into the woods; hot even there the red and golden trees sighed mournfully, the little squirrel cracked his nut drowsily, and the whole world seemfed L

YOU.
CHAPTER xxix.
I BESEECH YOU!
I do Dot feel like going." "Bat I would make an effort, my darling--r indeed, I specially request it; for if yon are not there, It will be noticed, and remarks may be made which we would not relish." "Enough, enough; I will go!" was the somewhat im patient reply; and, with borning cheeks, Gertrude left the room. The place she did not feel like going to was Judge Baker's; the occasion, an invitation to meet the success ful candidate and a few friends who had worked ener getically to seenre his election. The triumphant man was Clifford Tronp; and while Gertrude rejoiced in his good fortune, she wouloTrather not have met him. Who can blame her ! Certainly, not you and I, who know everything; rather should we commend her for wishing to avoid him. But that scarecrow, public opinion, and her mother's wishes, forced her into unwilling obedience, and against her incli nations she accepted the invitation. She ran over alone, as it was so near; and soon after her arrival a band of music and a crowd of men gathered in the street before the heose. After some soul-stirring music by the band, cries of "Troup^Troup," rang out upon the night air, and

f ___ I BESEECH YOU.
it was evident that nothing but the sight of the conquer ing hero would satisfy the enthusiastic demand-
As yet, Gertrude had not seen him, for be was stand ing at the extreme end of the gallery, talking to a group of gentlemen. Increased calls from the crowd brought him forward; and in a graceful little speech, which pos sessed the uuusual fnerit of not having a word too much or a word too little, he thanked his constituents for die honor they had conferred upon him, and pledged himself, by all that men hold sacred, to endeavor to be worthy of the trust thus reposed. The bright moonlight fefl full in his face; and, from behind a pillar against which she leaned, Gertrude could see that he was flashed and haggard. This pained her: for sEetnew, if the habit which was growing upon him could be broken, that a brilliant future awaited him; but if persisted in, that it would lead inevitably to his ruin.
The young wife, who stood by her side, did not to have any apprehensions, though, for her face beaming with joy and pride. This only lasted, however, while her husband was speaking; and when he echoed, she gave a sigh and sat down, as if from weakness or* fatigue. Judge Baker and two or three others followed < Clifford in short but appropriate speeches, and after the usual hurrahing and mosici the crowd dispersed, leaving the guests to the customary enjoyments of such occasions. Oddly enough, Mrs. Troup and Gertrude were left to en tertain each other most of the evening; for, notwith standing the autumn air was chilly, they both declined going into the parlor or dining-room, where, doubtless, the merriment that existed was to be attributed to- care wines, and the good feeling consequent upon success,
9

I BESKBOB YOU.
" So yon like our little town ? " Gertrude was saying. "Yes," answered Mis. Tronp; "for although I have seen comparatively little of the people, yet that little has been very kind and pleasant" ," Yes, they are the dearest, best people in the world, and uniformly kind and appreciative. I regret to hear you have not been welL" " Yon are very kind ; but I am going home soon, and . I think that will cure me. " You have not been home since your marriage ? " "Ko."
a Why, what a hero ! for, do you know, I think it must require a- great deal of courage to be alone amongst strangers so long, with only your husband for a friend, and he almost a stranger, too."
u Well, I suppose we might think so ; but Fm not very courageous, aud^et I've gotten along very nicely." And thus these two women exchanged the usual and inevitable platitudes common to their sex; while the bitter thought-, tt he loves her," intruded itself upon the wife, and Ger trude wondered if they were happy, never dreaming that the wee, pale woman, who sat opposite her, knew alL Such is life ; and thus do we try, but all in vain, to dis cover the inmost thoughts of each other. There was a pause in the conversation, which was interrupted by a familiar voice saying:
a Ah I Virginia, I was in search of you. How do you
" Fatigue^; " and as he did not speak to Gertrude, she said, a here is your old friend, Miss Lawrence."
" Why, Miss Gertrude ! " (shaking hands.) " I have

I BESEECH YOU.

195



not had the pleasure of seeing you since your return.

Allow me to welcome you home."

u Thank you ; I'm really glad to get back oace more."

" But you had a pleasant visit ?"

" Oh, yes; very quiet, but very pleasant"

" I must bid you ' good-night,' now, Miss Lawreno^0

said Mrs. Tronp, " for I fear 1 have already taxed my

strength too much."

-

" I hope not, I'm sure. Good-night;" and they shook

hands, after the conventional mode.

As they were leaving, Gertrude said to. Clifford:

" Can you tell me where I can find Judge Baker, for

I most be going too."

" Are you alone ? "

, "Yes."

"

"

" Then I will see you home in a moment; as soon as I

see Mrs. Troup to her room."

" Thank you, no; I will not trouble you; and if Judge

Baker is engaged, I do not mind running across the street

alone."

'" But you must not; " and leading his wife away, he

said, " I'll be back in a moment."

She felt that it was wrong to accept his escort, and it

was against her judgment to do so; but what else could

she do without seeming rude ?

And by the time she had bidden Judge and Mrs. Ba

ker " good-night," Clifford was at her side, saying:

" I am ready ;" and taking his arm, they went silently

down the moonlit avenue, and out into the street A

short wAk, and they were at Gertrude's home, without

exchanging a word.

" Good-night," said Gertrude. " I'm much obliged to

I BESEECH YOU.
you for seeing me home;" and her extended hand was grasped BO tightly as to make it painful.
u Gertrude, I near you are to be married to Paul Max well."
" You can hear many things, if you'll only listen." Is it true?" It is not" u Tori declare 1" in an excited tone. u I declare, upon my honor, it is false," she answered with dignity. Then releasing her hand, which he had held unconsciously, he said, with great earnestness: u Gertrude, I beseech you not to marry him;" and the flush deepened on his brow, and the odor of liquor on his breath was wafted into the face of his fair listener. a Why need you make such an unnecessary request ? " " Because I would save you the misery I daily endure." "Why do you talk this way, Clifford? Why can you not be happy with your wife? She is lovely, and in every respect worthy of your affection." " More's the pity! and do not think I am more anhappy for myself than for her, for with her woman's instinct she suspects something is wrong, although she does not know it. I hate myself for the injury I have done her, and I know that there is nothing but misery in store for both of us." ^ Bat; Clifford, yon should make it the study of your life to render her happy, and if you have wronged her, tie duty yon now owe is doubly binding." ~*I know it--I feel that every word you speak is true. But if yon were compelled to live with a person daily, whom you did not love, you would then understand how loathsome that companionship will become;" and sitting

YOU.
down npon the steps, he looked away into the moon light
"But yon should reject these feelings as disloyal, and if possible, cultivate a cheerful resignation to what you cannot avert."
" How easy to talk, but how hard to do! " Then there was silence for a few moments, and com prehending that it was neither right to encourage this accidental and most unexpected visit, nor the expression of such sentiments, Gertrude said: * " Clifford, if I could do anything for you, you know how gladly I would do it; but as I cannot, I think it best for me to say good-night;" and again she extended her hand to him. Arising and taking it, he said rather reproachfully, for men are over-sensitive when drinking: " So you send me away, do you ? " " Yes, because I think it is better for 'you, better for your wife, and better for me, that this interview shall not be prolonged; ". and clasping her hand in both of his, he said: " Gertrude, I beseech you again not to marry Paul Maxwell, for unless you love him, you will be utterly wretched." " I have no idea of marrying any one, Clifford; so do not give yourself any solicitude on my account But let me beseech yon, as a friend, not to yield to, the habit which is already growing npon you at such a fearful rate!" " It doesn't matter what I do. I have lost all ambition, and I have no future." " And is all your pride gontoo ?"

X*8

I EESEBCH TDtT.

' u What is pride or anything else when one is wretched ? n 66 Oh! Clifford, you degrade your manhood by yielding to a feeling which you *honld struggle with all your might to overcome. And remember, disappointment is the common lot of man, and yon are not the first or only one whose hopes have failed to be realized.'1 u Gfertrade, I know all this; and had I not committed the unpardonable crime of marrying that innocent child, 1 should be strong and ready to battle with any fate. Bnt that act hangs like a dead weight about me, and
dragging me -down to ruin." ^--*^^ -*
a Bat it doesa'freUeve yon from the solemn obligations you took upon yonreelf when ymi married her. You are her husband, and she is your wife, just the same as if yon loved her, and sympathy for her unfortunate condition should make yon more punctilious than erer in the dis charge of your dnty."
u Who says I do not do my duty as a hnsband ? " "I do>" w the fearless answer of the woman who had seen all the honors of a drunkard's life portrayed in her father's terrible career; " for no man can do his duty to any one or anything who is constantly nnder tlje influ ence oi liquor." Stung to the quick by these words, and springing to his feet, he said excitedly: "No mm dare speak thus to me!" "JBot a* a woman and a friend I dare do it, and it is with the hope of avoasmg that chivalry in your breast, which I know is only deadened by the base poison which
daily drink," Besoming his seat upon the steps, he said not a word,
buried his face in lam lands.

I BESEECH YOU.

199

Then the heroic girl, seeing that he was at last touched, knelt beside him, and said :
" Clifford, you know you feel that I am right. Do not turn a deaf ear to what I say, but determine now, thia moment, to abandon a habit which must bring upon its victims, at last, ruin and degradation. Promise me that you will Jagnceforth devote yourself to the happiness of your wife and to the cultivation of those talents which you undoubtedly possess."
Taking his hands from his face, and turning around, he regarded the beautiful pleader'at his side with a feel ing of reverence, as lie said :
t; Gertrude, your advice deserves the highest respect; not more for the unflinching friendship it reveals, than for the nobility of sentiment which has prompted it. I will try and do what you have asked, and God knows, if I am reformed, I shall owe it all to you. Good-night."
" Good-night, and may God help you ; " then shaking hands, they parted. He, to return to the desolation of his wife's chamber, and she, to return thanks for the strength which had been given her to speak those words , of counsel

300

WELL. PACT.?

CHAPTER XXX.
PATTL!
Paul, what does sLe say f " " She says she misses me terribly," replied the young student, while an intense smile of satis faction lit up his manly face. "Misses you terribly 1 " repeated the master of "Pleas ant Betreat," while looking over the inevitable paper. " Those are her words, sir," again said Paul, as if only too happy to dwell upon the subject. "Well, that's not BO bad; indeed, if I were in your place, I should consider them exceedingly encouraging.*' " Young ladies are so capricious, sir, that I think it safer to take them by contraries." u Gertrude is not capricious, and she certainly is less of a coquette than any woman I ever saw. Take for ex ample her conduct while here. Why, sir, nine womeii oat of ten would have encouraged you to make love to them, just for pastime or conquest, even if their feelings had not been enlisted." I hope what you say is true, sir." " But you doubt it," taking up another paper. " "Wait until you see more of the world, and you will then know what I say is true. But what about your Western trip!" u I Jiave almost abandoned it, sir." " Sensible boy ! Besides, going West to find ready-

WELL, PAUL!

201

made fortunes is chasing an ideal anyhow, for a man who succeeds honestly must be content to do it by honest strokes, it is better so, for then economy will take care of what manly labor provides, while money that is easily made is spent as recklessly; and it is not uncommon to see the precarious owner of such unstable fortunes fight ing both remorse and poverty in the evening of life. No, boy, stay inf Georgia, for with her industrious, active population, and her great internal resources developed, she is obliged to become one of the first States in the Union, and there's no need for young men to seek a better open ing elsewhere."
" Tour advice is always wise, sir, and I am honored tc be the object of your interest"
"Are you quite ready for your examination ? " "I believe so, sir, except a few little points about which I should like to consult you this morning if you can spare me the time." " Certainly, certainly; come into the Study, and well see what it is;" and while they go in for a consultation, we will wend our footsteps elsewhere. Unwillingly, it may be; but an author must go forward, no matter how much he would like to rest, no matter how much his heart aches over scenes upon which he must look, bat from which he would turn away if it were possible.

znxafe TIB lasixD GAIT.

CHAPTER

XIUIBO TBX FATTED CALF.

gforkw month of October went by withocit

Beident worthy of note in oar little world.

1

Only think of it!

&eaerb days, gEigcous forests, bnuang air, munificent

sunsets, summer dying, and no one seemed to cue.

Thif ir, nnnr rf nnr Jnimrdiitr frirnrli, for fhrj wrro

afl too bosy with dicmfiftlve to ctndy tbe beauties of nat-

So ^e tiMity-ooe day* <aT i^hnrni-time were gone, and of November tbe good motbere at
a Moesy Creek" and the aHanor," with a bevy of were rnmg te tarp onoei nse oct, n of aa ariy visit from their children, for the |nmmtfatr^ wa 4o apend a few days at
before ptnenodhig to the GapitoL Soch a dosting wn

eeo; bmt thpfTjpocted nitoa were in high esteem at each'respective place, asd tiie fatted eaif had been kOled in bonor of their coming.
At length the appointed day arrived, the carriages bad been sent to the city, and aa the son went down Mr. and Mrs. Troop walked through the park to the lodge gate to apeak to their children, jNtmoa*, for of course they would go on to a Mosey Creek " for the first night

&JLLJS&

FATTED CALF.

The father and mother looked older than when we last saw them ; the wrinkles had deepened upon the face of the one, the hair of the other had grown grayer, and as they walked hack and forth in the grass, they were sad and silent.
Mr. Tronp was not thinking of his son's welfare, though, for he was in trouble about money, as usual, and was puzzling his brain to know how he could again apply to Clifford for assistance.
How different with the mother ! She was wondering if her son was happy, and if he was doing his whole duty to his young wife ; for she felt that she could endure see ing her daughters mistreated by odier men, rather than have a son whom she bad reared disloyal or indifferent to the woman he had married.
A bank of purple clouds, flecked with crimson, and gold, stretched across the western sky, and as the fading sunbeams Ml upon the silent couple, the rumble of 'wheels startled them. F)yi*hangfng * gfon^e with his wif*^ Mr. Troup said:
" They are fxmmg f " and -myth these words they both stepped outside the gate.
A moment afterwards, die carriage stopped, and affec tionate greetings were mutually exchanged.
The VJfffTTB and embraces over, Mr. Troop stood upon the carriage Btop*talking to Virginia, while Clifford's arm lovingly enfolded his mother, who was saying to him

* Fou are toot wefl, my boy." "Ob, yea, wety wefl, but a little out of sorts," he an swered, with an attempt at a smile, " Ad Viigimk looks wretebedty. What is the matter

JOLUSQ THE FATTED CALF.
"The poor child is homesick, I think! We will both be all right now in a few days; will we not, Virginia f
"What is it, Clifford! I do not understand." " Mother says we both look so miserably, and I said to her as we were only homesick that we would soon be all right Wfflwenot?" u I hope so," with a sigh, a drooping of the eyes, and a quivering of the lips. " Indeed I trust so," said the mother anxiously; " and re member, my daughter, that as soon as they can spare yon from' Mossy Creek' we will claim you at the ' Manor.7 " " You are very kind," said the little pale wife, in that soft, sweet voice of hers, " and of course I expect to di vide my time with yon, if I am well enough." a But I will nurse you so-tenderly, and we will all try and cure you if yon will come to us. Will we not, Mr. Troop?" a Indeed we will," added the father tenderly, for even the love of money was not sufficient to overwhelm the chivalry that was innate in his breast* Virginia did not trust herself to make a reply, for the tears stood in her eyes; and to hide her confusion, Clifford hurried to say: " She'll be over soon, and as it is getting late, we will say good-evening, not *good-by,' for I will see you in the morning, mother;" and after an affectionate leave-taking, the carriage drove on. What a sad burden it bore, we alone can realize who have loved, who have suffered, who have been disappoint ed, and who have laid up treasures, but to see them snatched away. Virginia eat over in one corner weeping the tears which would not be forced back, and Clifford

KZLLXETG THE FATTED CAU.

205

eat in the other corner, silent and miserable. Silent, be cause he conld not console; miserable, not so much for himself as for the woman whose happiness he had wrecked. For his instinct told him she knew something
*5
was wrong, although no hint of the fatal secret had ever escaped her lips. And thns it was that the trusting child who, a few short .months before, had left the paternal roof a happy bride, now returned to it a crashed and heart-broken wife. An occurrence not so rare as the world imagines.
No more wonld life be the same to her ;^and like a little Christian martyr, she hoped to conceal the blow which was killing her from her parents, knowing fnil well that their hearts wonld bleed with ters, and their hopes be bnried in a common tomb." The wife suffered scarcely more than the husband though, for an honorable man must feel it when he has betrayed the trust of so weak a tiling as a confiding woman; and so keen was the remorse in Clifford's heart, that he would freely hare given his life if he had never taken the fatal step which bound him to Virginia Dearing. Her sobs became more intense as they neared her childhood's happy home; and when driviug through the park, which was illuminated with bon fires npon stands, Clifford folded her tenderly in his arms,
and said: "Virginia, for my sake, try and control yourself;" bat
the words were unheeded, and it had been as easy to force the tide back into the ocean as to check the flow of those tears which refused to be sent back into their briny bed.
Hie carriage stopped, and a moment later the poor. homesick child was weeping upon her mother's breast,

*" XSLU9Q ins FARED CAW.

while the father stood pressing her thin little band in

wondering silence. At first they thought it was the JOT

of cooing home, bat suddenly the mothers heart sos-

pected something else, and looking at Clifford, she said

anxiously:

-

T

What* the matter with my child?"

" She is not well, mother, and I hope is only nervous

f?oi& fatigae. Come, Virginia, let me take yon into the

kouas, where yo* can lie down, and you will soon feel

better;" and folding his arms around her, lie would have

carried her, but taming to her father, she said:

"Yes, mjr precious, iather will;" then, taking her in his arms, he lifted her into the house, and would have tfcken her into the sitting-room, only she said:
"No, not here; take me to my own room, for I have come home to die.77
"My darling, would you break our hearts I" said the father folding her more elosely in his arms, as he carried her tenderiy up the stairs; then laying her on her snow-white bed, he kiaaed her paje, emaciated cheeks time and again.
"Ho, lather, forgive me, and mother, dou!t ry, for I afeall be with you ft little while yet;" bat tlic mother imelt by her side and wept as if her heart would break. The old family servants too stood around crying; and as Virginia recognized them, she became more composed,

there's Chaney, and Luke, and Harriet, and Sallied--How do you afl dof " aad each one came forward and shook hands with "Mias Queen," as they called her. Then looking around and teeming Jo/miaBome one, she

TOE FATTED CALf.

Whe's MammyI s* *

"Here, dbiio,5* and the old black -woman, who had

nursed her from the very hour of her birth, now took her

in her saws and said :

"De good Lord be praised -for a-brmgin' you back to

us, honey, and well neber fet you go away from us agin,

poorehile!"

At these words, Mis. Bearing looked up, and as the

light fell foil upon her daughter's face, she was startled

to find it so thin and pale. Then taming to Clifford,

who sat npon the foot of the bed, a silent and wretched

spectator of this heart-rending eene, she aid rather

reproachfully:

'.

"What have yon done to our pet I"

"Oh, mother, he has done nothing,** eaid Virginia,

quickly, "I have been sick for some time;" another

stab for the husband.

"And why did yon not let us know it, my darling, so

that we could have brought you home f "

"Because, father, I kept hoping to get better, and

besides, I did net like to leave Clifford ;'" and as she

looked lovingly at her husband, -he pressed her hand and

kissed it.

41 Well, that is the feeling a wife should have," said the

mother * "but still we could have come to yo% pet."

"So I am here at last, it doesn't matter, does it,

Mammy i" and he looked at her dear old- nurse for a

"No, chile, an* we got you here now, we keep you, haoey," a name by which she had always addressed her young mistress.
** itistis, yon'se forgittin all 'bout supper, hain't yer,"

KILUSG THE FATTED CALF.
suggested Chancy, the colored factotum, who walked around the establishment with all the dignity with which ft huge bunch of keys dangling at her side inspired
u You are quite right, Gbaoey; I had forgotten all about it. You can't go down, pet I ^
a No, no, mother. You all go; take Clifford and leave Mannny with me. . I want to talk to her about the times I used to ran away from her and make flatter mills down in the branch in the grove."
a Just as you say, love, and PH send you np some sap per, by Chancy. Come Clifford, come father;" and in stantly Clifford slipped her hand through his arm and as sisted her down die stairs as carefully and as gracefully as he always performed those little courtesies.
Closing die door, Mammy .sat down by the little, wretched wife, and while stroking her hair, said:
" Now, honey, ten Mammy, what is de matter wid her chile I"
" Some other time, Mammy. I'm too tired and sick now; but as I didn't wish lather and mother to know it, I tried to talk and laugh as long as they were in the room. Here now, let me put this pillow in your lap, and rest my head upon it, as I used to do, while you run your fingere through my hair."
** Yes, honey, do jes as ye like, and old Mammy will be happy;" and arranging die pillow as desired, her young mistress rested her ***TMg throbbing head npon it.
a There now, diatfeek so good, for my poor head aches to detraction."
"Heber mine--Mammy 11 rob it and make it weJL
I

THE FATTED CALT.

209

There now, try and go to sleep;" and for a little while a profound silence reigned in die room, for Virginia was exhausted, both by mental and physical suffering, and in addition to these, her heart was heavy with its own bitten
Lying with closed eyes, she recalled-the happy past, when, with the usual blindness of youth, the joys of the moment were ignored, and her heart went bounding forth to the untried future.
Well, that future came; there were hot two periods in it --happiness and misery, and now the brief career was ended, and she seemed going down into that dark pit of an guish which overwhelms the soul when we have loved and lost
There was no resurrection-day for her; and recognizing the melancholy fact, she resigned herself to her hapless fate, with that martyr-like spirit which utters no murmur and is determined to bear its burden nn&aststed. In the nobility of her soul, and in the spirit of sacrifice which gave her courage to endure, she thought it would be too cruel to break a father's heart and crush a mother's life because hers was blighted. Neither did she desire to add one iota to the nnhappiness of him who had caused her ruin; for wretched as she was, she could but admire the loyal devotion which made her husband immolate himself for another, and in keeping her own lips sealed, she was but imitating his noble example.
The feast which was brought to her room by three ser vants, and which was served upon three respective largesized silver waiters, was called by the unpretending name of "tea;" and as Chancy recommended each separate

910

SZLUSG TBK FATTED CALF.

dish, "Miss Queen" regretted, more than words could fell, her inability to eat a single morseL
Onlj drinking a cop of tea, she strove to soothe Chaney's disappointment by saving :
a Never mind, Chaney, HI be better to-morrow, and then I can eat some of all these delicious things which yon have so kindly prepared for me."
"Lor5, chile, I hopes so--lease wese bein a' eookin' and a cleanin' and a fixiri' here for de last free weeks, jis for yw eomin' and Mars dinbrt's."
" Well, doo't let'Mars Cliffort' eat np everything from me, for I shall be better by and by, and then I shall want some of this nice fruit-cake,"
" Lor5 sakes, chile, Mars Ciiffort didn't touch no sup per neither. Neber seed sich folks. What be de mat-

a Well, Chaney, I am sick, and Clifford is tired, I sus pect. Well eat to-morrow."
" I hopes so; for its jes frowin' away de raw material to cook for ye all;" and with these words she took her waiten down as she brought them up.
, honev,let'Mammy' take all dese close off, and eomfdrtable." "As you say, Mammy;" and yielding to the snggestkgi of bar life-k^ nurse, she soon found herself vastly mote in a white wrapper than she was in her travelling

Supper over, thegentlemen walked oat upon the gallery for a smoke, while the mother sought the chamber of her

Until far into the night did ehe and Mammy watch their precious charge; then, at Virginia's request, they left

THX FATTED CAU.

211

her to try and seek repose in deep. But the night passed away in sighs and speechless agony for both wife and husband, and when the light of another day broke upon the world, they seenlfed asleep; but were still awake.

S

CHAPTER xxxii
.BAT.
after breakfast, the next morning, Clifford galloped over to the " Manor."
The air waa bracing, the forests gorgeous, the season beautiful; but he neither felt the one, nor saw the other, for the cause of his wife's depression and illness had dawned upon him suddenly; and by that intuition which sometimes gives us an insight where words and actions would leave ns groping in the dark, he now knew why her young life was going down to the tomb in its youth and freshness.
Surely, the taking of an innocent life was sufficient, we flunk, to blind die eyes of even the most hardened; therefore, it does not seem strange that the beauties of Nature were all ignored on the morning in question.
Trne, the life that was ebbing gradually away was not threatened by either ball or steel, but sometimes these would be merciful to the wife who finds home--a desert, and husband--a stranger.
It had been a wretched night for both wife and hus band, and although neither slept, they exchanged no word. Clifford's sleeplessness betrayed itself in eyes which were red and swollen. His cheeks, too, were flashed as the result of the panacea taken to u make him feel better," and the unmistakable odor upon his breath

HEVKK,

213

made his mother's heart beat with anxiety as she kissed

him " good-morning," and said :

** How is Virginia ? n

" Not well; the return home was too exciting for her,

and she has slept none."

a Poor child! I am sorry to hear it. And you, Clif

ford, yon are not well either."

" Xor never will J>e again, mother;" came in sad tones

from lips that had to be compressed to hide their quiver

ing.

" Don't talk fhat way, Clifford;" and a pained expres

sion rested upon the mother's delicately cat features.

" You would have me tell the troth, mother?"

u Yes, my boy; but what is the matter I"

"Do you not know?" he asked, sadly. "Does not

your mother's sympathy, added to your woman's instinct,

tell you when your^chfldren are unhappy ? "

" Yes, my son, but it does not tell me the cause of

that unhappiness. Come into my room, where we will

be free from intrusion, and tell me all;" and taking his

hand, she led him along with her, as in the olden time.

Entering her chamber, she locked the door, and Clifford

threw himself, with a sigh, upon a lounge, after the boy

ish custom of days fhat were gone. Sitting down by him,

his mother stroked his hair, and said:

" Now, my precious boy, tell me what is the matter ? "

" I am wretched--utterly wretched! "

" What makes you so unhappy ? "

He hesitated some time, as if dreading to speak the

words which faltered upon his lips. Then half-raising

himself up, and resting upon his elbow, he looked his

mother ill the face, and said solemnly:

r

*r yM?/" Own aaak hoe* upon the lounge with a groan, and covered 1m face with his hands.
"Oh, Clifford!" came from the mother's lips, and bowing her head upon his besom, she wept.
Both were too wretched to talk, for their consciences were still fresh and pore, and they realised, in all its hor ror, what it was to sacrifice the happiness, and perhaps file life, of a human being. Some time passed bj, and then potting his arm around hi? mother's neck, and draw- jag her to him, Clifford said:
"And mother, he who has earned all this misery will suffer for it before he dies,"
" Oh, my sea, do not make anj threats against your--" "I make no threats," sa^d Clifford arising; u bat when a naa atterly disregard* die feelings of his feDow-creatnrea, it wffl be bfooght back to him, sooner or later." "But your wife, you have not mistreated her? Sneh a thing wovld be impoeaibJe for my son." u I have not dealt her blows, but I have broken her heart I hare never sought her except from duty and ictpCKJ^ and my lips have never framed themselves^ call her by^any dearer name than * Virginia; * and do Hunk die doci not know, she does not feel instinctive jfrrt tOTf^Aiiym wreng 8 u I would nave neglected her shamefully,^iad I yielded 'to ray ieeliagB, and had not the chivalric blood of the Troops and the Bakers forced me to a different coarse, u Bat what we the most aflBidoons attentions worth to y wife, m^e they are prompted by love?" -The poor heart-broken mother had no time to reply, for a rap at the door ended the interview, and entering, Mr. Clifford Troop, Sr.,

KJSVJCK.

215

"Good-morning, Clifford! I come to offer my congratu lations, which I neglected to present in our hasty meet
ing last evening." " I thank yon, sir, and though I prize worldly honors
but little, yet yonr congratulations are gratifying." " What's this I hear about not prizing worldly honors
Such sentiments are unworthy of a Troop!" u Bat for the distinguished name I bear, sir, I should
have been utterly indifferent as to the result of my elec tion ;" and the father winced as he comprehended some thing must be wrong. Then, with an attempt at pleas antry, the honorable father said, with a forced smile, and
looking at the mother: "Why what has come over wthe boy ? * Then turning
to his son, he added: a A year ago you were buoyant and ambitious, now I find you depressed and indifferent/5
u Tme! because, a year ago, I was an honorable man; now, I am a betrayer, a perjurer, and, perhaps, a mur
derer." Liquor, as is known, has a different effect upon different
temperaments, and while it makes some men silent, it makes others communicative. It had the latter effect upon Clifford, aad made him expose those things which in sober momente he would have held as too sacred to be spoken of at alL This must be the apology to the reader, for what may sometimes seem weak in a man, and better left unsaid. The mother sat weeping, and the father stood
regarding his son with scorn. lie was rather surprised to hear him speak as he did;
for he had flattered himself that his son's feelings could be crushed out or bought at will, as his own could be.
He was not so much astonished to hear it intimated.

216

NEVKB!

'



m

that the wife felt betrayed, as he was to find his son af

fected by such a trifling (?) thing as the heart-sickness

of a woman. He had fancied him strong enough and

stern enongh to resist snch an unimportant influence, and

when he saw him absolutely yielding to it, he felt a kind

of contempt for him. He forgot for the moment how

tenderly he had loved that boy's mother, not only for a

year bat for years after their marriage, and never had

that love been supplanted until avarice entered his heart

like a festering wound and poisoned his whole being.

But while he stood in sneering silence, Clifford crossed

the room, sat down by his mother, and putting his arm

around her, said: *

u Forgive me, dear mother, if I have given you pain;

but the confidence you have always allowed me, and your

entire sympathy in all my feelings, naturally made me

seek you when I was in trouble; and now that I am a

man, I suppose I must forget my boyish ways, and rely

upon myself instead of finding relief by pouring my sor

rows into your ear."

"No, my boy, always come to me, tell me everything

that troubles you, and if I cannot save yon from suffering,

I can at least give you my sympathy;" and pressing her

lips to his fine brow, she kissed him, as a pledge of her

earnestness.

" Dear mother" was all he could say, and for a few

minutes they sat looking down and thinking; then arising

suddenly, and as if he had forgotten something, Clifford

said:

" I must be going, for Virginia may miss me, and as I

can only stay a day or two, I must be with her as much

as possible."

~

HETTERI

217

" Only a day or two ? "
" Yes; you know the Legislature meets- next week. But you'll be over to-day ? "
"Yes!"

" Oh, I forgot to say that Mrs. Dearing requests father

and yourself to dine at ' Mossy Oeek * to-day."

"Your mother can do as she likes, but I cannot leave

home to-day;" and with these words the honorable father

stalked grandly out of the room.

" Well, I will see about it after I get there, Clifford, and

if Virginia is well enough, perhaps I will remain. My

thanks to Mrs. Dearing."

f

"All right; good-by;" and kissing her tear-stained

face, he walked quickly from the house, and, springing to

his saddle, galloped rapidly down the broad, winding ave

nue. -Much-to his surprise, he encountered his father at

the lodge gate, and not feeling in a humor to talk, lie

would have bowed and passed on, but was arrested by

this request:

A word with you, Clifford."

" Certainly^ sir," said the son, lifting MB hat.

" I hate to apply to you again, but I am terribly in need

of a few thousands, and if you could help me just this

once, I will never trouble you again."

What an abject appeal, and what abject things money

will drive men to do; things which they would die rather

than do from any other cause!

" I regret that I cannot oblige yon, sir, but upon my

honor, it is impossible!" answered the son, respectfully

but sternly.

" Could not your wife get it. for you ? "

10

218

HKV

"I dare say she could and would, but never again I ask her to do it."
a Think, Clifford, it is your father who comes to you in liis old age for assistance;" and resting one hand npon the pommel of the saddle, he looked the picture of despair. Clifford's heart was touched, notwithstanding that father Lad caused him so much suffering, but his resolution was taken, and no power on earth could alter that resolve, so he said in a very determined tone:
"Did I have the money, father, yon should not wait to ask me for it, but to take another man's money and give him nothing in exchange for it but faithl^gnfi to his child, is impossible! I cannot do it; do not ask it What I make myself shall be yours, but more than this I can not promise;" and lifting his hat, he bowed "goodmorning," and galloped rapidly away, while his father stood looking after him with an angry and disappointed scowl upon his handsome and striking face. And here we see, step by step, how surely and inevitably a man will go down the ladder of moral degradation, who ignores the laws of Nature, and sets at defiance the laws of God.

I

A CHARMING

219

CHAPTER xxxiTT
A CHARMING PUPIL.
|F course, the rest of the world were in motion too, daring these sad scenes at the " Manor" and " Mossy Creek," and while they were being en
acted, onr old friends from " Pleasant Retreat" were es tablishing themselves in a very handsome house in the gay capital.
The novelty of everything soon wore off for Gertrude, and instead of resigning herself entirely to the demands of fashionable life, her uncle suggested ifevfrtthe should study music and French, which she did.
Her beauty and freshness elicited admiration wher ever she appeared, and she was acknowledged by the critics to "be " the belle of the season."
This was a distinguished preferment, for it .seemed as if the parterre* of the world had furnished their most beautiful-flowers that winter to blossom in the gay bou quet which lent its varied hues to make the capital more brilliant'than ever before. The Senator's position at once introduced his niece into the best society, and the petit diners and brilliant coteries which followed each other in quick succession at his own house, and over which she presided with so much ease and grace, were talked of as among the most delightful reunions of the season. This attrition of mind with mind naturally expanded Ger trude's quick intellect, and a judicious course of read-

2^W ES>rUf\

. ' A C_ HASXDK} Ht?^!-,

ing, miited with congenial exchange of thought, was fitting her to be the companion of savants and litterateurs.
Her uncle's pride in her was unbounded, and no won der, for she was beautiful, accomplished, gifted and brilliant, admired and sought; and he yet hoped to see her married to some man whom she loved, and who
wpflld appreciate her in return. To this end he watched Mr when she did not sospect him; for this cause, he was paioed at the indifference she manifested towards aH her visitors. However, there was one whose society she "seemed to prefer to the others, and as a natural conseqaence the unde gave no encouragement to the attentions of the fortunate individual, for when, since the world began, were ever nude and niece, or father and daughter en r&pport regarding a suitor? True, the yotmg man was a French Coast, an attack^ of the French Legation, and some papas and some mamma* would have died in the attempt to scene such a prize.
Bat die Hon. Eeabem Hall wa not only antagonistic to the Dobflity by birth, bat iron principle, considering am American Badoipii worth aH the kings and emperors of Barope. This he not only felt bat acted, giving the prefercBeeat all tunes to h yoong countrymen who were striving' by their own exertions to raise themselves to some fe*Jted paaUiuiJL Q crane, ne ws always polite to *------~^s,!ia01 extended to them the hcspitalitieB of his
ikenad noambfdon to marry his niece to any a1 deferring coentryaaasy dunldng the highest

cfa When Ckrtrede toid him that Ooont D7Anvergne had Jaiped to mnti Inn ulin her Fgeach by convening

A CHASSfiSQ PCPIL.
with her an hoar each day, he was silent and rather ap prehensive, while his usual infallibility on the subject of * human nature suggested how speedily the lessons might arrive at that stage when the verb aimer is brought into considerable use. If it wag only to conjugate and leave it alone, well and good; bat who could foretell what the state of the heart might be while this lip-service was going on? For has not Owen Meredith fully compre hended the coguetterie of this graceful tongue when he Bays:
" But the laagnage of languages dearest to me Is that in which OMX, O mm fevfe <**&, When, together we bent o'er your nosegaj for horns, Yoa explained what was sknfly said by the flowers, ATM?, selecting the sweetest of all, sent a flame Through my heart, as, in langhmg, yon mozmnzed/ft

Yes, that was it--two heads bending together over

the same book--inhaling the same odor from the same

nosegay, which gallantry brought each day to the queen

of love and beauty; eyes looking into eves, a pair of mos-

tached lips trying to teach a pretty pair of unencumbered

lips how to roll the rX and how not to pronounce the *,

etc., eta; a merry laugh at the failure--a beginning over

again. Why, don't you know how it is? Why, it is the

most

f*B*-in*tinpr ^jf

all-overish

feeling in ^ ^j

the

world; *

and so

thought the Count, when he said one morning, in the

midst of their lesson:

" VOUB etes vne cfiarmante eeotiere /"

"Vousmefatte!"

u flon, no*, <?e& vrai! Vow parUs tre* He* at

votreprononciation <xt tres fonneJ"

222

A CSAJOONG PUPIL.

"Speak in English, BOW, for the lesson is ended; and such close application may (?) end in softening of the brain, or something worse (?);" said Gertrude, langhing. "
"Have no fears, mademoiselle; for I think it wonld take something more difficult to soften either yonr brain, or--yoor heart;" and he stole a glance at her beaming face. - "Who said anything about hearts?" she said, going to the window to look ont at the gay promenaders who thronged the avenue.
"I," answered the Connt, at her ear; and while she looked ont, he fonnd sufficient occupation in studying, for the^ millionth time, her beautiful profile, until his pro longed gaze brought a blush to her cheeks, and turning, she said:
a We've had no umsie this morning!"
u I'm at yonr service," with a graceful bow. "Come, then, we'll try that exquisite dnet of Men delssohn's, ' I would that my love;'" and leading the way to the piano, she played the prelude, and they began: he, in a delicious tenor, she, in a rich, pure soprano, which wonld have made her a Hca before the footlights.
And so they loved music ? Another attraction, another bond of sympathy; for a handsome man who sings is to all women--even those who do not love the immortal art--the most fascinating creature in die world. Let fathers and uncles and mammas be correspondingly 'warneQ. The dnet concluded, tbe Count leaned gracefully on the piano, and never looked so handsome in his life, as when he said, in accents soft and tender:

A CHARMING PUPIL.

223

" Now sing me just one little song."

Didn't we say lie was handsome before ? If we didn't,

we meant to; and another thing we "wanted to say was

that he was of Italian descent on the maternal side;

hence his love of music, and his soft, dreamj, black eyes

and poetic nature.

No, he was not one of your volatile Frenchmen, for

had he been, Gertrude would never have been attracted

to him. On the contrary, he had a depth of feeling,

which, as yet, no plummet-line had sounded; but that the

far-off chords had been struck latterly seemed beyond a

doubt; and if they hadn't been, that they would be,

seemed quite inevitable, just now. Looking over some

music, and humming a sweet little air, as if to herself,

Gertrude looked up finally, and said:

"What shall I sing?" *

" Your selection will make me happy," was the gallant

rejoinder. .

" Ah, Count, you do say such sweet things!"

u TVith such inspiration, how can I help it ? "

Thanks expressed in a glance from a pair of glorious

eyes, then a piece of music spread upon the rack bj ta

pering fingers which were pink as roses.

Whatisit? " Penses d moi ! "

These words on the title-page:

"Avtt le* regard* de Count ZPAvvergne."

'<

A prelude, of course, then in a soft, low voice she sang,

while an occasional glance at him* who sighed and turned

the leaves, made him feel " Oh, delicious it is!"

And we should rather say it was! Look at the pict

ure! A beautiful woman, a love-song, dainty wMte

fingers pressing the ivories; oh, so lovingly ;

A CSA3OOSQ PUPIL.

bewitehhigly&tmg by ruby lips; glances between times--

not laid down by the composer--along with " andante?

u sotto voce? u avcc regret? and the other cabalistic signs

only understood by musicians; the odor of flowers, canary

birds warbling, sunlight peeping hi at the rose-bads on

the carpet, and lastly, bnt not teastly, a very handsome

and distingue man, who evidently was becoming more

deeply infatuated each moment.

Where was it all to end ?

Did any one ever stop in just snch a delirium <5f ecstasy

to ask any question--bat one?

The moment was propitious--it was going--would it

ever come again ? Gertrude was just a little bit coquet

tish, but she didn't mean to be. What woman ever did ?

Her heart was safe, and the Count's ought to be! At

least she had never given him any encouragement. Oh,

no. What woman ever did acknowledge that she ever

did do anything except something that wouldn't tarnish

the reputation of a saint ?

The song was ended.

Silence by two. Her fingers still pressed the last

chord; its melody filled the room; a moment more, and

her eyes sought those of her visitor; his face was flashed,

Ins eyes full of a new light which startled the fair girl:

Be trembled--the love was in his heart--the words were

on his lips.

""

* Oh, moment of ecstasy!!!

Delirium of love! II

Dream of heaven!!!

Linger!!! Thou canst not depart!

One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--

nine--ten--eleven--

A CHABMDfG PUPIL.

225

a Twelve o'clock! "Well be too late for uncle's speech

unless we hurry ! I'll be back in a minute, as soon as I

get my bonnet. ' Excuses moij " and the beautiful vision

had gone--so had the opportunity, and a moment after

wards, the Count was muttering under liis breath:

" Sacre bleu! StujndJ, bete" etc., etc.

His soliloquy was short, if damning; for at last Ger

trude had learned the value of minutes, and no matter

how much she wished to linger at her mirror, exchanging

admiring glances with herself, she returned in an incred

ibly short time.

" Are yon ready ?"

" Out, J/ademmselle"

" && vous plait f " and there was a glove to fasten--

another trying situation for a man in love. Then a

parasol and a lace handkerchief and a veil to hold.

Oh be!

these

women,

how

deliciously --

tormenting

they

can

" AU&ns ! " and she led the way.
" Avec plaisir ! n
Silence down the hall; silence in the vestibnle; si lence past the door. They linger a moment--he takes her hand and presses it just a little bit, in assisting her down the steps. Then out into the streets, under the glorious sunlight they join the gay throng who are pooling in a living stream to the Capitol, and of course, become very proper.
Kiting the tips of our fingers to them, we say au revoir!

10*

THE JZHTAUB.
CHAPTER xxxiv
THE ETVALS.
HE few sweet autumn days when Clifford lin gered so tenderly by her side, and read to her from her favorite authors, were now bnt a mem ory, but treasured, oh, so fondly! Yes, treasured, for in those days* she almost believed he loved her; he was so kind, so thoughtful, so considerate, and Heaven help him for ever being anything else. It always was against his nature to be so, but love is stronger than chivalry, and while the latter can be forced, the former never can be, BO matter how reason, and judgment, and society may shape the conduct. What a little thing it is to be kind--to speak a gen tle word ; to give a look of sympathy! and yet, how often are they withheld, even though we know how much hap piness they yield to others. None of us are too poor to east these blessings upon the pathway of our fellowcreatures, and instead of scowling and freezing all die kradHaeaB oat of onr hearts, let our smiles and cheery words be scattered broadcast, as well upon those who them, as upon those who seem to need them not,
than we dream, a laughing face may hide a
Bleeding bear!
Yes; the happy days were gone forever, and the young wife buried her grief so deep within her breast, that not even the searching eyes of her doting parents could dis-

THE BTTAiS.

227

cover the disease that was gnawing at her Heartstrings,

and sapping the very fountains of her youth. She came

tottering down stairs with Mammy's assistance, and be

cause she was cheerful, they deemed her happy; because

they were hopeful, they considered her out of danger.

The idea of surrendering their only treasure to the grim

monster was never thought of, and indeed, who ever

thinks of this painful subject, but to banish it!

So can even the ev> es of love be deceived,' b*v one who has the moral courage and the heroism to bear the cross

alone, by one who loves others more tlian self'and whose

chief desire is to save those dear ones pain.

Except an occasional visit from the Tronps.and some

other neighbors, the trio at " Mossy Creek " were rarely

invaded, and one day was so much like another, that but

for Mr. Dealing's diary, they could never have been told

apart Virginia beguiled the tedium by embroidering a

pair of slippers for a Christmas present for her husband,

and could the tiny leaves and flowers which grew into

life under her little pale fingers have spoken, they would

have told a sad tale of bright hopes that had been woven

in their creation, and perhaps of a tear which had been

dropped now and then, as these fond hopes were doomed

to perish.

Letters came regularly from the absent one, to cheer

and comfort the little wife, with such comfort as it was;

and through the papers she saw with pride that " Clifford

Tronp, Jr., was winning honors for himself and name, as "

he was considered beyond doubt the most brilliant de

bater in the Honse."

..

Believed'from the restraints of a home in which lie was

not happy, and with the habit which seemed growing

238

THE E1VAL8.

upon him, it was bnt natural to fear that Clifford would go into excesses. So far, nothing of the kind had oc curred, for the relief of being alone--the necessity of not having to lire a daily falsehood hi the presence of an other--helped him to bear what he could not conqner, instead of driving him to seek oblivion in the poisonous draught which kills both body and sonL
Thus two months passed quickly away, and the sage legislators looked forward with delight, as they thought of the holidays which were to be passed with the loved ones at home.
Clifford, we regret to say, was an exception to this almost general rule, for although he tried to imagine himself happy at the idea o returning to his wife, yet with the same feeling was mingled one of repugnance; and at that moment he might have put the continent between himself and her whom he had sworn to love, cherish, and keep, had not honor stepped between, and kept him somewhere within the bounds of duty.
If there is a husband whose eyes \hall light upon this page, who suffers this feeling of revolt upon repairing to bis home, we say to JbSm: " You have outraged the holy law of matrimony; for you have married from some other motive than that of love."
Poor Virginia I Wretched Clifford I Hie one deceived; the other deceiving! Which was

goffering for one; goffering and crime for the other. Two K ves nrined! But what is a human life ? A fearful gift from God, or an insignificant boon which men barter for gold, and sell to the devil for worldly preferment I

THE RIVALS.

229

Who appreciates that it is the former! How many consider it only the latter!
While we have been reflecting, an unbroken stream of pleasure-seekers have been ponring in the direction of the Executive Mansion, which is beautifully illuminated, and thrown open for the last levee before the holidays. The gathering was large and brilliant; for Georgia then was represented by all that was best and noblest within her varied borders; and no one could have mingled in the gay throng, or received the courtesies jof the Chief Magistrate and his wife, without feeling proud to own himself a citizen of the "Empire State of the South.
It was long before the days of scalawags and carpet baggers and thieving governors, in a time when men were honest, and when they loved principle more than money--if, indeed, the imagination has the power to drift back to such an ancient date. Could the festivities have ended here, it had been well; for then some of Georgia's noblest sons would have returned to their homes and constituents, at least as they came, and with out the blemish upon their reputations which from that night would rest upon them forever. But there was to be a banquet at the ---- Hotel, complimentary to the mem bers of the legislature, and, judging from the haste with which the gentlemen escorted the ladies home, " a jolly good time" was in anticipation. Of course,"a jolly time," for it was to be one of those entertainments from which ladies are excluded--u no restraints, yon know "--which means, "I can drink just as much as I please," "and say jnst what I please, and no one*will be any the wiser." Granted! No one will be any the wiser (?), but is there no mother, wife, sister, or daughter, to suffer by the degra-

230

THE BTVALS.

dation of such conduct ? No loving hearts to be bruised

by such blows ?

Anathemas lond and deep, say we, npon those ca

rousals, more politely called banquets or suppers, where

men congregate without the restraining influence of

women, and the odium of the public be upon those who ~

give and encourage snch entertainments; for we all know

they are not given either for the purpose of benefiting

or elevating mankind, but are, as a general thing, nsed as

advertisements for some hotel proprietor, or to further

the interests of some clique or corporation.

Cheap wines and medicated liquors are the tempting

beverages on such grand occasions; everybody is expected

to get drunk, as a compliment to the host, and the man

who fails to come up to the mark, in this particular, is set

down either as unmanly, stupid, or "henpecked."

Henpecked! a term of reproach that is applied to a

man who respects his wife too much to make a brute of

himself. Judging from the noise, the entertainment was

at its height, and to call it Bedlam would be giving only

* faint idea of the boisterous scene.

Imagine five long tables the length of the immense

dining-room, at which were seated as many hundred men,

all talking, speaking, and clattering knives and forks at

one time, and some conception of the picture may be had.

At first, the toasts came in regular order, one at a time,

bat ae the men grew heated with wine and excited under

<

the other influences surrounding them, as many as twenty

,;

or thirty occupied the floor at once.

These together with the cheers of the listeners, who al

ternately cried: " Down with the Senator from C----,"

or " Mr. T----, the Representative from B----, has the

\

THE RIVALS.

231

floor;" or Go it, Mr. D----," We'll hear yon through,

Mr. S------," reminded one of the lower regions, where, it

is said, the demons occasionally revolt against the demands

of his Satanic Majesty.

And so the uproar and the drinking and the speaking

and the talking increased, nntil the heat of the room be

came stifling, and there was a general stampede for the

open air. Railroads being scarce in those days, many of

the members of the General Assembly had to reach their

homes either by staging or private carriages, and as it

was broad daylight when the banqueters left the hall of

feasting, their convevances were awaiting them. Amongst

O"

*

O

O

the crowd of vehicles was a handsome top-buggy, with a

pair of spirited sorrel ponies attached to it, and evidently

it was all the driver could do to keep them in check, for

they pawed the earth, and in their impatience were eager

to be off.

'*Ah, Jake, I was just looking for you ;" and springing

into the boggy, the speaker waved u good-by ". to some

friends who were with him, and giving the reins to his

ponies, was off at lightning speed.

" By Jove, if he drives that way, he'll break his neck! "

said one of the men, looking after him.

"Jake will take care of him, I hope,"

" What a pity, what a pity, he will drink so, for he is

by far the most brilliant young fellow in the State."

" Better say what a pity he has such a fiend for a father,

for it is he who has ruined the son." "How*"

" Oh, you've heard the story!" " A love-affair, wasn't it 3 " " Fes; loved one woman and married another."

338

THE

y-

* But he wifl not throw himself away for that"

" Heat's jnst what he's doing; bat I must seek some rest,

and you I"

" Wffl follow your example."

"Meet me at twelve at tbe Capitol, in regard to that

'matter we were discussing last night."

, "I will;" and they parted.

> While they were talking, the subject of their remarks

was giving not only the reins hot the whip to horses

which were regarded as the fastest in tbe country, and

seeing how' excited his master was, Jake said:

"Mare Clifford, better let me hab dem reins;" bnt the

proposition was answered with an oath, something very

nnnsoal for the elegant and polished Clifford, Jr., and

Jake, the faithful, lapsed into trembling silence.

Excited by the ran, and maddened by the lash which

had been dealt mercilessly, the horses at length became

ible, and as Clifford endeavored to check them

by the bits, they reared and plunged, then darting off like

lightning, ran against a tree which stood at an angle in

the road. Tbe shock smashed a fore-wheel, and then

Clifford was dragged over their heads, and for some dis

tance, before releasing his hold upon the reins. Jake,

in hk fright, sprang from the boggy, which resulted in a

broken leg and fractured skull; and together master and

servant lay upon die high road, bleeding and insensible,

while the maddened horses rushed on to their destruction,

Tbe road was not very much frequented, bat sorely they

will not be left alone to die. Even if the accident were

the result of recklessness, and an otter disregard of life,

God is always merciful, and sorely He will send some

good Samaritan that way to bind op the wounds of the

THE BHTALS.

233

wounded. Hark! there's a sound of wheels, and another

traveller approaches the scene of the terrible disaster.

Lost in thought, though, he did not see the bleeding man

until, with his feet almost upon the body, the horse gave

a snort and halted. Springing from his buggy, the stran

ger approached what appeared to be a dead man, and

turning him over, was shocked to find that it was his old

rival, Clifford Troop. What a strange and fearful meet

ing ; and as Pan! Maxwell supported the head of the life

less man, he thought to himself, " What is to be done ? "

And indeed it was a question of importance, for- he

was alone, and at least six or seven miles from the

nearest house or physician. To leave him to go for aid,

was a revolting idea, although Paul could see no good of

staying, and to move him might prove fataL Then what

was to be done ? And as he bent above the still lifeless

man, and felt for a throb in the temples, he thought

again : a What a strange meeting!" Paralyzed by the

unexpected shock, he sat holding poor QJifford, and think

ing only "How strange !" After what seemed an age,

another traveller drove np, and after much consultation

it was agreed that he should return to M---- and bring?

O

^>

a physician and a litter, so that the wounded man might

be removed with as much comfort as possible to where

he could receive the necessary attention. It was a long

time to wait, but Pan! was more than willing to do wha~

ever lay in his power for a suffering brother, what thoogh

he did it with strange feelings in his heart. True, Clif

ford Troup had never harmed him--iudeed they were

strangers to each other; but then they both loved the

same woman, and that is an offence not easily- forgiven

one man by another.

234

THE BITALB.

Strange, isn't it, that this thing of lore has snch a pow erful influence over us all? People may laugh, they may sneer, they may try to dismiss the subject as unworthy of their thoughts, but those who laugh the loudest are gen erally those who cannot for life or death get out of its troublesome coils, Thoee^^wo^hours of watching were weary enough, and in after years Pan! remembered them as the dreariest hours of his life. Bat he held his lifeless burden as tenderly as though he had been a brother, in stead of a rival; and he bathed his temples as gently as if they both didn't love the same ttroman. And then he thought he would like for him toXbe saved--he would like for him to live.
For what? To be loved by her, and to love her? Then a shudder came over him and he thought--well-- he thought---- Bat it is too wicked; we cannot write it At any rate he thought something that was very, very wicked, woold be very nice. No, no, surely he didn't! Bat then don't forget that men are men, and not saints. Did you never wish a rival out, of the way \ Once only did he open his eyes, and this was after Paul brought some waiter from the spring near by, and bathed his tem ples. But it was a look of unconsciousness, a stare only; and then, with a moan, he sank back, while the blood flowed afresh from his arm and temple. A little far ther OIL poor Jake lay insensible also, and not until Paul was going to the spring had he discovered him. After ages of watching and wicked thoughts, the messen ger returned .with several other gentlemen, a physician, and a litter, and sadly they bore their senseless burdens back to die capital, which they had left only a few hours before so recklessly.

A BEAUTIFUL ICEBERG.

235

CHAPTEK XXXV.

A BEAUTIFUL ICEBERG.

HAVE always heard that the Southerners were

such warm-hearted people," said a low, soft

voice, with quite a foreign accent

a We are," was the quick reply ; and a pair of beaming

eves looked defiantlv into a pair of black eves which were

*.'

9f

f.

*

gazing fondly at her, while her attitude and air rather

invited farther defence of her conntry and people.

" You most be an exception to the rule," then came

deliberately.

" I ? " in unaffected surprise,

" Yes, you; for yon are only a beantiful iceberg--a

snowflake, in dress and heart. And see, your hair is

golden--that is not Southern! Sorely, your ancestors

must have drifted down from the North Pole--yon must

be

a

Saxon--a

Sclavonian--an

estrav!"

"Count D'Anvergne!" said the fair listener, springing

to her feet^ while all the hot, Sonthern blood in her veins

rushed into her face. " I am Southern to the core, and

you shall find Sonthern blood quick and ready to avenge

your words. Escort me to my uncle; " and sweeping out

from behind the folds of cnrtains which draped a bow*

window where they sat, she stood before him in all the

rage and imperiousness of an insulted queen.

" Pardonne ! a thousand pardons, mademoiselle ! I

did but jest. I adore you, and your coldness piqued me.

F. _

36

A BKACTTTCL

I am on fire while you are ice. I am a madman. I know

not what I say. Kill me, but love me ! " and in the in*

tensity of his passion he seized her hand, and would have

drawn her hack into the embrasure, bat that she resisted

the movement, saying :

* I think a lady's private parlor would be a more ap

propriate place for love-making than a ball-room."

" Bat we are not in the^ball-rooio. Too are mistaken.

See ! we are alone, and I directed our steps here pur

posely."

Looking around, Gertrude saw that the beautiful salon

was deserted, for the guests had all gone into supper.

* Purposely ! " she said, turning her glorious eyes upon

her suitor, with an expression of displeasure.

u Yes ; because I felt that I must tell you to-night how

much I love you. But you turn away you sigh you

are cold and indifferent"

" Since we are alone, I will sit down for a moment,

and tell you in a few words how much I regret this

affair.* And resuming her seat on the divan, she con

tinued with dignity blended with regret :

"What you call indifference has been a desire on my

part to save us both this issue."

V

u If you dreaded the issue, why did you encourage my

attentions?" < u There is where you do me injastice. That I have en

joyed your society, I cannot deny ; bat I can also affirm

that I never dreamed of anything beyond a friendship."

"A friendship!" said the Count in surprise. "Why,

you have received my attentions to the exclusion of

almost every other admirer."
" True; bcciono yoa were the only one who gave me

A BEAUTIFUL ICEBEBG.
F
any particular pleasure. You loved music, we read French together, you were congenial, and if I have been selfish, forgive me." (
" Selfish? you havevbeen cruel; " and with a moan he buried his face in his hands, as if to hide' the terrible awakening.
u But think, Count. You are a nobleman, while I am only an American girL"
" That makes no difference, for I have distinctly avowed my purpose of marrying for love, not rank," was the manly and earnest reply.
" But should I be acceptable to you, I might not be to your family."
" Fortunately I do not belong to my family, nor am I responsible to any one but myself for what I do. If you love me, nothing but the strong arm of death can keep us apart. If--yon--do--not--love--me," how slowly and tremblingly the words came from his lips: a tell me; do not be afraid, but tell me, and let me go."
Gertrude's head drooped lower upon the hand which supported it, and a deep sigh told more plainly than words how keenly she realized ffee painful duty of rejecting a love which could not be doubted. An unpleasant task always, for the few women who appreciate that the offer of the honest love of a sincere man is the highest com pliment that can be paid them. Bat minutes seemed like ages to the impatient lover, and when she did not reply, he said, in a trembling whisper:
" You do not love me." A breathless suspense, and " No," fell like a deatthknefl upon the silence.

238

A BEAUTIFUL ICKREBQ.

u Nor never can ? " he then said, as a dying man asks

his physician if there is any hope.

> a Nor never can," was the final and fatal reply.

...* Yon love another ? " prompted jealousy.

' " Yes, that is--I did," came from her lips, as if by com

pulsion ; and she hoped by this confession to be spared

any more importunities.

" Did I" asked the Count in amazement. u And you'll



*

marry him?"

"Never! he's married!" said the trembling, agitated

girl, as though she had been at a confessional, upon which

her life depended.

u Married ? Then God help as both!" and again he

buried his face in his hands with a moan, while Gertrude

gat, with a pained expression upon her face, looking

through the blinds out into the pale, cold moonlight as it

fell upon a fountain in the flower-garden. A few mo

ments of silence, and arising she said:

" If yon will be kind enough to assist me in finding my

uncle, I will go home now."

u I am always at your service, mademoiselle, but will

you not have some refreshments I"

" No, thank you! I feel as if I must be alone."

u But your engagements ? "

\

Most be broken!"

'

' " A glass of champagne will revive your spirits, and

then you can keep them."

u With many thanVff for your kindness, I still most in

sist upon going home;" and as they walked through the

elegant O&MM which were now thronged with the guests

who were returning from the banqueting hall, many

j.

A BEAUTIFUL ICEBERG.

239

were the eyes which followed Gertrude in unaltered ad miration.
The occasion was a ball at the French Ambassador's ; and out of all the glittering crowd, our Gertrude bore off the diadem that night
And yet, how simply was she dressed: in white illusion with puffings and flounces, an overskirt looped with scar let geraniums, a cluster of the same dazzling flowers in her blonde hair, and coral jewelry. Somehow, Hue is the traditional color for blondes, and yet, if they did but know it, nothing is more becoming to them than scarlet and white. But then, a pretty woman can take great liberties; and so what does it matter so she's pretty at last ? The uncle was found, adieus were spoken, and the Count stood at the carriage-door saying " Good-night"
" We shall see you soon," Gertrude was saying. " (Jertainement, si vous mepermittes ce pfaisir" u We shall be only too happy to see you, Au revoir ! ' " Au revoir ; " and as he stood in the moonlight looking after the carriage which held all that was dear to him in life, Gertrude leant her head upon her uncle's shoulder, and sobbed in a low, hysterical way which is not un common to her sex.

240

NOT XZf TIIE OALKHDAB.

CHAPTER XXXYI.

SOT Eff THE CAL.EXDAB.

[H, the misery of those days! 1! Not in the calen

dar?"

" Yes, they are there, but you are too blind tc

see them!"

"My eyes are good!"

" Yes, but it's the blindness that will not see. There

the sigus written opposite every day."

them! "Happy to-day," "gloomy to-morrow,"

ied the next day," "ill the next," "better the

next," and so on, according to the life which discloses

the symptoms, for every day until you die.

For, as Thackeray truly says: "Life i% a mirror: if

yon frown at it, it frowns back; if you smile, it returns

the greeting/'

Cruel or just, whichever you like, as the old Mosaic

law, and unfortunately for the convenience of some few

(I) has not changed with the Christian era. If men

have altered it, they would have had blood flowing

high, but what they would have had a law

better adapted to the demands of their little foibles. As

it i&f they try to make life what they wish it to be, re

gardless of any Hereafter, so long as they can deceive

one another and have a good time. Deceiving one an

other, though, is not deceiving God, and TTia laws are

inexorable.

*

*'"
*

SOT TS THE CALENBAS.

241

There had been no pleasure gilding Clifford's cop of pain, and he hadn't even that one poor little consolation with which the generality of sinners try to balance their suffering.
Nothing bnt remorse as the bitter wages of transgres sion.
Was it nothing for him to lie there and helplessly sub mit to the heaping of coals upon his head I Nothing for him to be watched over so tenderly, so lovingly, by the troman he had wronged? Nothing for him to see her life-blood oozing oat drop by drop, and day by day I
Sometimes, in his agony, he would say to himself: a I will tell her all;" and as if driven to do it that instant, would say:
" Virginia, come here; I wish to talk to yon." 'Then, when she would come with a smile, and " Yes, dear," his heart would misgive him he would as soon kill a dove as wound her; and turning away, he would close his eyes, and say: " Never mind, now; some other time," little dreaming that she knew alL She, a woman and a wife, knew that her husband loved another woman, and yet could keep silent. " Impossible! She's only a pretty absurdity dressed up for a novel, for no such woman ever existed," sneer the wiseacres, who concur in tnte generally received opinion that the whole sex haven't an idea above a fashion-book or a new bonnet Well admit, without further argument, that a woman with a soul is almost as rare as a man with the same faculty, and perhaps the reason she is so little appreciated is the slight demand in market for such creatures. If a man ever happens to have a soul, he can go into battle and get gloriously ejiot down for his country, or he can
li

Of TBX CALENDAR.

found hospitals for Hie poor, and build asylums for the

A

.

M.

J

9f

homeless; bat if a woman is born with a soul, society

reserves the exclusive privilege of crashing oat what God

has given her, and of potting her in one of its model (?)

grooves. If, however, she dares to go on in her own

little way, the knowing ones condnde there mnst be

something wrong about her; and from the moment she

hoists a flag of opposition, from that moment begins a

warfare between Mra. Gnmdy and herself which only

ceases in the grave. If Mrs. Clifford Troop, Jr., chose to

lock her secret in her heart until she died, hadn't she a

perfect right to do k?

If she chose to try and brighten her hnsband's life,

which she well knew was as wretched as her own, who

had any right to interfere ? What good would all the

ieara, all the wringing of hands, all the hysterics, all the

gossip with neighbors, have done !

Would such a' course have given her her husband's

Never! and having failed to win his love, there was Be&tfag more in life for her to do, except to smooth his pathway, and then to die. So long as health lasted, and be was daily enabled to drown the opbraidings of con-
by artificial means, Clifford managed to worry along with life after a certain fashion. Bat when mis-
end disease came upon him, and he was once under the dominion of reason, new tortures conly beset him, and life, in its beginning, was already

His recovery seemed far removed as yet, for his im provement was scarcely perceptible, and no surprise will %e expressed at this, when to bodily suffering were added

HOT IS THE OALEKDA3Z.
his own secret griefs, and anxiety about the increasing troubles at the a Manor." Besides all this, bis practice was, of course, entirely neglected, and the frequent drains made upon him by his fatLer had left him almost with out a dollar. How humiliating to a man of his pride, and
i, in the bitterness of his heart, he would say: u Can* any more be sent upon a man than this S" And all the time we are remembering that the "iniq uities of the fathers shall be visited upon the children,"
ete^etc. Then would oorae a fresh stab in4fee galling thought:
" I deserve it all for turning from the path of honor and
rectitude." His father had only been to see him once or twice, and
then the visits were short and formal; but his poor mother, who tame daily, how it crucified his heart to see her, for she was pale and thin, and weary and sad, while oftentimes her eyes were red with* weeping, and he knew that the life she was forced to lead was killing her. Kot a word had they exchanged, but in the pressure of hands, in the kisses, in the glances, they knew all that each other suffered- It is said'that the law of compensa tion provides a corresponding pleasure for every woe; but even this may not be enjoyed, when what would other wise be a joy is but a fresh stab.
Thus did die proffered kindness prove a pain, when, on the morning in question, Virginia entered the room with a waiter in her hand, and said:
"Come, Clifford, do try and eat this bird; for X cooked it with my own hands, and I shall be dreadfully disap pointed if yon do not gratify me."
" Virginia, yon are too good, and for yonr sake I wifl

HOT nr THE CALERDA:

trj and eat something;" and the gratitude which filled

th* heart of die invalid welled op to his eyes and gave

them a tenderer look than nsnaL

u And see, I've brought you the very prettiest eamelias

that were in the greenhouse;" and taking from the

waiter a cluster of these cold bat lovely flowers, she held

them tip for his admiration.

"How beautiful!" and taking the thin, little white

hand that held them, be kissed it, saying:

" Thus do I thank yoa; and, darling, pat them on the

table here by me, for flowers do brighten a sick room so

ranch."

"Darling!" did he call her "darling"! Did she

hear aright? Yes, he called her " darling," else why did

her heart go pit-a-pat, why did the blood mount to her

pate cheeks, why did the teare stand in her eyes ?

She had waited, oh so long, for jost one little word of

lore, jnst one little pet name, and this was the first; per

haps he did care for her, jnst a little, after alL Bat in

the new sensation which this " darling " created, she was

forgetting all abont Clifford's breakfast, and he was watch

inrgy her with a smile on his lipA s to see what effect this

strange word would have.



$oddenly she looked up, and her face was radiant as

she said, with emphasis:

" Yes, darling, I will arrange them as soon as yoa eat

some of my little birdie;" and with these words she put

ft piece of the birdie's breast into his month, then gave

him a sip of coffee/then a piece of toast, and so on, until

the breakfast was completed. Then she was more than

repaid for burnt fingers and blistered cheeks, when her

V HOT IS THE CALESDAB.;

_,,,, 245

> "Why, I didn't know my little wife was such E. good cook; the breakfast was delicious; but remember, Vir ginia, you are not strong, and you must not fatigue your self for me. At present, I have no appetite; bat when I get better, I will consider it a privilege to eat anything prepared at 'Mossy Greek.'"
"Isn't this better than that dreary old hotel atM ?" " Oh, a thousand times! Everything is so cosey and cheerfoL I think I would have died had we remained there!"
"Bat I hope you are going to improve rapidly here, Clifford."
"I hope so, after the fatigue of the trip is over, for I can ill afford to lose so much time from my business.9'
" Oh, let your business go now, and don't worry your self about what you can't help; it will only retard your recovery, if it does not make yon ill;" and with these words, the little wee wife, who talked such grand philoso phy about not worrying over impossibilities, tacked the cover around her husband, stroked back his hair, kissed his brow, and taking the waiter, went downstairs; while Clifford took her advice, turned over, forgot his troubles, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

340

ALL THAT A WOMAJT IS EOE3T FOK?

CHAPTER x x x

ALL THAT A WOMAN B BOEK FOB?

blessed season of Lent had caused a lull in

the gay world, and for one, Gertrude was glad

of it, for she was heartily Jired and worn out

with her first season of city life.

^

" What is the matter with yon, Gertrude ? " said her

uncle one morning, from over his paper, of coarse, for he

had noticed that for several days she had not been in her

usual spirits.

"Matter with me?" she answered, in rather an ab

stracted and evasive manner.

"Yes. What makes yon look so blue these last few

days?" again asked the anxious uncle.

"Nothing--that is, nothing much; " was the hesitating

reply.

" I suppose yoif are sad because the balk and parties

are all over, or because the handsome Co&nt doesn't come

so often now. Say, isn't that it ? "

"No, indeed, uncle, for I wouldn't care if I never at-

another ball or party ; " and leaving her seat, she

around the table, for they were at breakfast, and

tifet down beside him.

a Why, Gertrude, you amaze me ! " t

"Pin heartily sick and tired of the life I lead, and I

want something to do."

" Something to do ? Why, haven't yon your dressing,

ALL THAT A WOMAN IB BORN FOB?

247

your balls, your parties, operas, theatres, dinners, beaux,

flirtations, mnsic, and French ? Heaven knows, I should

think they would give you something to do! Any one of

them would be enough to keep a man busy!"

" And is that all a woman is born for ? "

" It seems so, or at least custom has so decreed it!"

" And am I to be a slave to the decrees of custom all

my life, whether I wish to be or not ?"

The uncle, who was rather orthodox in his views about

women, was quite amazed at the revolt of his niece, and

said:

" The end of all this is not so bad."

"What is the end?"

*

"Marriage."

" You mean to say that women are expected to appear

as puppets, as walking dolls dressed up for exhibition for

such a length of tune, and then are to be knocked off to

the highest bidder?"

"She has her choice between that and being an old

maid."

v

" If I were a man, I wouldn't marry one of these dollbabies ; and besides, where is the disgrace of being an old maid?"
" I never could see any, but then the world looks at it differently."
" And must the world force a woman into marriage, because the world thinks it & disgrace to be an old maid!" .
" There are other reasons, though, and better ones, why women should marry."
"Wfcgt are they?" " In the first place, it is right, and was so intended bj God."

248

ALL THAT A WOHAIT IS BOSH FOB?

" But you evidently agree with St Paul tliat' it is bet ter for man to be alone,'" with a smile.
" Oh, I'm not in the question," he answered, looking a little teased.
a Well then, it's right for a woman to marry. That's reason No. 1; what are the others I"
"They are happier!" " Whether they love their husbands or not, I * *ppose ? Reason No.2. Any others?" a Who'll take care of them when they are old ? " " Oh, that's it, is it? We are to marry for board and clothes. If you taught us bowTto do something else be sides dress and flirt, we would op able to take care of our selves." 9 "I have no objection to your doing something!" u Bat I don't know how! a Here I am without a dollar in the world, only as mother works for it; yet raised to do nothing but dress and fly around just as if I were the daughter of a mittionnaire. I do not think it ia right, uncle, and this is the reason I am not satisfied." So it seems that even so far back as a quarter of a cen tury ago, that one woman, at least, was struggling for something higher and nobler than a merely fashionable life; and Mr. Hall, who considered marriage the best so lution of all these difficulties, was rather nonplussed when he fbond his niece so heterodox in her ideas. They were both silent for a little while; then Gertrude

" Now. uncle, suppose, if yon can, that such an anomaly as this exists: a woman who is tired of being a fashionable idler--a woman who does not wish to marry----"

\

ALL THAT A WOMAN IS BOKN FOB?

249

u Thafs rather a hard thing to do," he interrnpted her to say, with a mischievous smile.
" It's true, nevertheless; and a woman who wants to do something, who wants to earn her own living by the brains, and with the hands God has given her.'*
" My dear child, you fill me with admiration ;" and drawing her towards him, he kissed her brow, while a slight moisture might liave been noticed in his eyes.
a Bat what can you do ? " " At present, nothing! but in the future, whatever we choose to-day!" " Would to Heaven you were a boy!" was the enthusi astic reply of the statesman, while his eyes glowed with thoughts of a brilliant future, if only her sex were different "Make me a boy," she answered, while her cheek* burned and her eyes sparkled with the new -life which was even then opening before her, in imagination. * " Teach me some profession, some employment, some thing, and you will lift me from a repining, miserable idler, into a noble and a true woman. Only give me something to do, and I'll do it! ^ u Without any regrets ?" " Without any regrets/* was the eager repetition. " But you can't make speeches, you can't be a lawyer, you can't go into politics." "Bat I could be your amanuensis as well or better than the one you employ, and with some instruction I could keep your books, etc.; while, in the mean time, with your permission, I might be perfecting myself in French and music, with a view to teaching." "Noble girl! It shall be as yon say, only I prefer that yon shall learn to make yourself useful to me; for I
11*

250

ALL THAT A WOM&B IS BOSS FOB?

sever wish you to leave me, unless it be to marry the

man of your choice." With these words, he gave her a searching look, to discover, if possible, whether the past

was buried or only slumbering; and somehow he fancied there was a tone of resignation and sadness in her voice

when she said:

.

" Then I will be with yon until I die; for I do not

think I shall ever marry."

" Come, make no rash promises, bat tell me when yon.

will be ready to enter npoo yonr duties I" " To-day."

u Your answer bespeaks promptness, and that is one of the chief requisites in all kinds of business. Then, if you will be ready to-day, I most digmigg the present in-

cmnbent," u That would be hardly fair. Give him notice; then

allow him time to get another situation."

" Your consideration for others is a just rebuke for

my inconsiderate baste, and I will act npon the kind sug

gestion: By George! yon ought to have been a man;

yon would have made yonr mark!" " 1 hope to make it as a woman, or I shall not consider

myself worthy to have your blood flowing in my veins."

" Oh, you flatterer f But, of course, you must retain

a few female attributes." "Most certainly! if they consist in saying, not only

good and true, but pleasant things." " Well, I must go now to meet an appointment; and

believe me, child, I walk forth with a prouder heart than ever beat before in my breast I had some fears about introducing you into society he^e, lest you should be

come, as most women do, fascinated only with ite frivoli-

ALL TEAT A WOMAJJ IB BOSS FOB?

251

ties. Bat you have come out of the contest with such honor to yourself and glory to me, that I shall have no apprehensions for the future. I have now one request to make, and that is, that yon shall confide all your thoughts, hopes, and wishes to me. Will you do it ? "
"Most cheerfully, and feel honored in granting a request which reflects so muck distinction upon me."
" Honors will be easy, I think/' he answered merrily, while Gertrude brought his hat, cane, and cloak, for the weather was yet eoM and bleak.
Receiving then the parting kin, and holding the door open for him to pass out, she returned to her Leasehold duties, merry as a lark, and tfrfnlring joyfully of the happy time when she, too, should have something to do --some engagement to keep, some business to perform.

352

DEAB PAUL!

CHAPTER XXXYIIL
DEAB PAUL!
|OOB Paul," say we, for we had almost forguuon he was in the land of the living.
It was evident, however, some one else rmembered him, and that fact doubtless will repay him for any oblivion on our part. Come now, let us transpose the golden rale, for the first (?) time, you know, by doing unto him not as we would have him do unto us, and having quieted our consciences, peep over his shoulder and see what he is reading. He was keeping house at " The Betreat," and with the morning mail came a letter which sent his heart up into his mouth, and his blood tingling through his veins, while his hand trembled so that he could scarcely break the seal. It was a clear, bold hand, bespeaking strength and character, and read thus:
WASHTRSTOH Cmr, D. C., February ISteA, 18--.
DEAR PAUL:--I am the happiest of women, and write you a hasty note to tell yon of my good fortune. I will not call it a reply to your last charming letter, but beg that you will take the will for the deed this time. I have quit being a fashionable young lady, and hare gone to work in real earnest.
Uncle has dismissed his amanuensis, whom he found very incom petent after he had gone, and haying installed me in that position, I am now np to my eyes in righting matters. I am also studying bookkeeping, with a view to taking charge of uncle's business. Dear Uncle says, " if I were only a boy, I would make my mark; " and I aumuc him I intend to make it, even if I am a woman. He is

DEAE PAUL!

253

much delighted and amazed that I prefer business to society, and

kindly gives ine all the assistance he can. .We are looking forward

to your visit with a great deal of pleasure, especially Unde (?) You

will be here by the inauguration. Uncle desires to be remembered,

and says take care of the dear old "Retreat," and don't neglect

his dogs and horses. But I must say " good-by," for " business of

a pressing nature demands my time," as you men say; and how

nicely it sounds, for I think it is glorious to have something to do.

"Good-by."

Your friend, GERTRUDE.

P. 8. Eliza, Jane, and Harry are well, and take to city life very

naturally 1

"

>
Signed Gertrude! That looks suspicious, and bodes well for "Dear Paul;" for whenever a woman signs only one name, she must be on most excellent (?) terms with Lim to whom she writes. And how very feminine the " P. S." --for as some one has said, women generally put the gist of what they have to say into their postscripts. It was only a plain, frank, girlish letter, a deal of like but no love in it; and yet it made Paul supremely happy, par ticularly when he dwelt upon the words," we are looking forward to your visit with a great deal of pleasure."
Then he would read it over again; and indeed, what is there in life that gives us more real, genuine, and unadul terated pleasure than letters from those we love \
It seems a very little thing to take an envelope, to break the seal, and then to find an ecstasy /of joy filling our souls as we read those pages which are covered witH words that breathe and burn. And perchance we may find a presence there which shall compensate us for the weary miles which separate us from the loved and absent
We always said "amen" to Sancho Panza's exclama tion about the man who invented sleep, and to that peti*

254

BEAK PATH. I

tkm for a blessing we desire to add: " God bless the man who invented letters.?
Sometimes, we think, brief as it is, that the pleasure of receiving and reading letters is even greater than that of presence, for somehow we pot more of ourselves into our letters than we do in our conversation. The reason for this is obvious. In society, we endeavor to conceal our real feelings; but in writing, there's no one looking at ns, DO one listening to us, and oar poor downtrodden hearts will have a little snowing in spite of ns.' But time is hurrying us on, and so we leave "dear Paul," with his letter and his thoug-btB.

V
NOTHING!

255

CHAPTER YXXJX.
NOTHING I
|HK Ides of March found Clifford back at his post in the village of L----; and the warm welcome he received, both from his uncle's family and his
friends, would have gratified the reasonable vanity of any man. He was still weak, for his arm was far from being well, and it was against the earnest pro testations of his wife, physician', and family, that he returned to business in his present debilitated state. Virginia was not strong enough to accompany him; and in truth she had grown so much weaker that she scarcely now ever left her bed. The poor father and mother were heart-broken over their one little lamb; but to their oft-repeated and anxious inquiries as to what was* the matter, the patient sufferer always answered, " Xothing." Day by day, she grew weaker, paler, and thinner, and* .good old Dr. Bell was baffled for once.
His prescriptions evidently did not reach the malady; and it was well for our little martyr's secret that he did not possess the usual insight of his profession, or he might have seen that there was something within which no human skill could cure.
"Have you been fokfag the tonic, Jeannie?" asked this good old doctor, one morning; for the anxious pa rents would have him come, to see her every day.
" No, doctor,72 answered a thin pair of bluish lips ; for

256 i
the -blood had all gone oat of her face, and she wa ghastly until it was distressing to look at her.
" Why I" he asked, feeling her pulse, and seeing how very much weaker she was.
""Because, doctor, I fancied it didn't do me any good," with a sweet smile; for, although wretched herself, she had determined, with her usual unselfishness, to make those around her happy, so long as life was spared. - "But you are not the physician, Miss--or Madam--I beg Mrs. Clifford Troop's pardon, bnt you will never be anything bnt jnst little Jeannie Dearing to me."
"Kor to me, nuther, doctor," chimed in old black Mammy, who scarcely left her " dear chile's" bed day or night; " and de Lord knows I wish dis 'ere chile neber had gone off and lef us. I jes b'lieve if she neber had, she'd neber bin in dis fix."
.** Oh, Mammy, you mustn't talk that way! Hush, now! and don't ever talk that way again."
The doctor smiled at Mammy's notions, and then, turn ing to his patient, said:
" Bnt you must take the tonic, Jeannie; for I find you yery much weaker this morning."
" Well, doctor, if you say so, I wilL" " That's a good girl! and give her some of it now, Mam my, right away. Take it for a week, regularly, and you will be so much better that we will have a picnic down on ' Mossy Creek,' at .the very spoLwhere you and I used to go fishing when you were a wee1 little thing. Do you remember \" \
u Oh, yes," with a sigh. " It was ever so long ago." "Yes; how old we are getting!" he smiled, and said. ** Xn addition to the tonic. Mammy, you. most try and get
r

!

257

her up every day, so that she can walk around the house; and if you would take her out on the lawn in the warm spring sunshine, it would do her good."
" Yes, sah," answered Mammy, as though she under stood it all,' and a little mo re too.
" But remember, now, Jeannie, I tell you once.more to take the tonic regularly, for we are to have the picnic in a week. Will see you to-morrow. Good-by;" and shak ing her little thin, white hand, he was gone.
Outside the door, the anxious mother stood weeping; and as the doctor came out she said: x
" Doctor, do tell me, what is the matter with my precious child \ "
" I think she is only suffering now from the fatigue consequent upon nursing Clifford. She was not able to do it, but you know she would do it, and now we have this unpleasant consequence. The excitement ajid anx iety which then sustained her being gone, excessive de bility ensues; but I do not think there is any cause for apprehension."
" Really, doctor ?" was the anxious question. "Really, madam, that is my candid opinion. But do not let her see you crying, or I will not answer for the consequences;" and bowing'"good-morning," he took his departure. " Will not answer for the consequences! " Only see how little he knew of the inward strength of that frail body. Indeed, like many others, he did not believe it possible for a woman to be wretched, and not make a fuss about it. It had never occurred to him that such a fragile little creature could suffer and be silent, or that she could lock a secret in her heart, and take it down to

258

H0THIB&1

the grave with her. But we see and know that she can do it--that she does do it--and that, even while her heart is bleeding at every pore, she smiles, forgetting kei-self in the pleasure that she desires to give others; taking a'll the burden upon her own little shoulders, which others would have borne so gladly for her sake.
And what wonld the world think if we should say that there ,are many other women who put their anguish out of sight, and while their life-blood is dripping drop by drop, those who are nearest and dearest believe them well and happy.
And so that little child-wife upstairs, with her head resting in her old black Mammy's lap, was dying; and the mother went singing through the house because the doctor thought there was nothing serious the matter; and the father was so encouraged that he had gone to the city to look after some business.
Could loneliness be more lonely! In the bosom of one's family, yet alone.
Dying! but they did not see it, for she called it " Nothing i"

AT LAST.

259

CHAPTER XL.
AT LAST.
)BT, like crime, seems to possess a peculiar fas cination which leads its victims down to deeper depths,* until the final hour of rain comes. Once in debt, how hard to break its iron fetters! Once in crime, how hard to wash out its bloody spots! What need to particularize I The storm that had so long been brewing over the " Manor" burst at last, and nothing was spared to appease its fury. We already know how hopelessly involved the Hon. Mr. Tronp was, and we also know his son has told him that he would never again be a beggar, not even to save the "Manor." He had. rescued it once, and how dearly that redemp tion cost, we know only>too welL Had the father propeHy appreciated this sacrifice, and realized the fact that he was no longer a miSionnair^ matters might have taken a different turn. v As it was, he squandered in 'reckless waste all the money he could lay his hands upon, and for the last few months had been living by disposing of the remainder of the family silver. The " Manor " was under another heavy mortgage, and a week preceding the day of which we write Mr. Troup had been notified that unless the money was forthcoming under the bond, the property would be seized at the time specified in the deed. This was a terrible awakening

360

AT LAST.

from fancied security, for heretofore some friendly hand had always been stretched forth to relieve him at the last moment; and besides, he flattered himself that no man would dare to treat the Hon. Mr. Tronp as if he were a common mortal Unpalatable though the fact may be, there are a few men in the world who lore money more than blood, and it is a well-known fact that these same vulgar (!) creatures take special delight in tearing down an aristocracy to which, unfortunately, they do not belong. Mr. Hammerly being of this persuasion, chuckled over the mortgage which he obtained for a contemptible sum, and prayed in his bad heart that Mr. Tronp would fail to come to time, so'that he might enjoy the exquisite felicity of driving this haughty aristocrat from his ancestral do main. It seems that Mr. Troup knew his man, -for, as often as the " Manor " had been jeopardized, he now, for the first time, contemplated leaving it.
So great was his pride, though, that he could not gain his consent to acquaint even his wife with Bis plans, and it was now the last night at the " Manor."
If it were possible, we should like to pass it over in silence, or throw such an impenetrable veil over the scene that no hmpan eye could see behind its folds.
But we dare not, for by this man's life we hope to show not only the crime, but the inevitable ruin, which must finally come to those who make money their God.
Did not the Lord God say: " Thou shalt have none other gods but me !" But how few heed the Divine command in comparison with the numbers who defy it! The picture was enough to,have moved a stone to pity; but it seems to be one of the inevitable laws of transgres-

AT ULST.

261

eion, to deny us that sympathy and consolation* which might be oars under different, circumstances. Bowed beneath the weight of unhappy memories which flooded his soul, crushed with the thought of his impending doom, shut out by his pride from the sympathy of a single hu man being, and too obstinate to ask help of God, the old man sat alone with his gray head bowed upon a table. The night was far spent, and yet no feeling of sleep came over him ; for remorse was-too busy, conscience too pain ful, and he now felt all the agony of leaving the home* stead of his fathers. He now remembered that he bad so often been*1injust where he might have been just; imperi ous, where he might have spoken a kind word; tyrannical, where he might have exercised mercy; extravagant, when by economy he might have liquidated his debts, and still been an honorable man and the happy owner of the " Manor." To some extent, his imperiousness may be accounted for upon the score of the slavery system then existing, for the keeping of human souls would make the greatest humanitarian who ever lived domineering.
We do not say'it would make men cruel, but overbear ing ; and bitter as the thought may be, it will have to be swallowjed along with some other unpleasant truths. The Hon. Mr. Tronp was a humane master, but arrogant; a kind husband, but exacting; a model (?) father, who made noblesse oblige strangle the cries of Nature, and set at defiance the laws of God. But retribution came at last, and upon this night of self-examination all the acts of his life combined did not give him so much pain as that one in which he had sacrificed his boy for money. What good had it done ?
Better ask what evil it had not done ? For while it

AT LAST.

had only postponed the hour of -rain, it had wrecked the

lives of two innocent beings, and %even now the ghosts

of son and daughter were demanding retribution at. the

hands of him who immolated them.

The aight was almost gone, and a faint streak of dawn

was visible in the east, when Mrs. Troup, weary and pale,

left her sleepless and unhappy bed to seek her husband,

for whose coming she had waited in vain. Going to the

library where she felt he most be, she turned the bolt

softly, and entered.

u. Who's there ?" cried the old man springing up, and

full of that nervous apprehension which is the result of

a conscience 31 at ease.

u It's only I, Clifford," answered his wife.

"Why could yon not leave me alone?" he asked

bitterly, and sinking back into the chair from which he

had arisen.

a Because, Cliffordy 1 believe a wife's place to be by

her husband's side when he is in trouble;" aud taking a

seat by him, she kissed his bowed head, then leaned upon

his shoulder.

V

a Who said I was in trouble ?" he asked, raising his

head and trying to'look courageous in the midst of

LIT.

"Oh, Clifford! A wife does not need words to tell

her when her husband is suffering. Why do you con

ceal anything from me I Why do you not let me help

you bear your burden? No matter what it is, tell me,

Clifford, or I shall feel that you consider me unworthy to

bear the sacred name of wife."

Then, without any preliminaries to prepare her for the

blow, he said quickly, as if in a hurry to get through

AT LAST.

, 263

with a painful task:. "Since you will know it, I am ruined, and today we leave the e Manor' forever!"
There were no screams--no exclamations--only a sur prised start--a clenching of the hands--a scarcely audible moan--a white circle around her lips, which were com pressed tightly to keep from uttering a syllable, lest some word should escape which would bring additional pain to him whom it was now her duty and desire to console. *
In the morbid condition of his mind, it was but natural for him to misconstrue her silence, and he said:
" Mary, if you have any reproaches, keep them to your self. I am in no mood to hear them; and besides, I would have spared you what you have forced from me."
"Reproaches, Clifford? For what do you take me! Am I not your wife, do I not love you?" and putting both arms around his neck, she kissed his sorrow-beamed brow.
Overcome by this unexpected manifestation of his wife's unchanging love, he folded her in his arms, and bowing his head upon her shoulder, wept. the first tears which had moistened his eyes for years. Alas! could the revolution that was going on in his breast then have taken place sooner, we had been spared the sad task before us. The first torrent of grief over, he looked up, and through his tears said:
" You love me, Mary ? I, who have brought disgrace, and dishonor, and miseiy upon you?"
" You have brought nothing upon me which I am not willing to bear for your sake," she answered, like the true wife she was, while one arm rested lovingly around his

AT LAST.
neck, and her blue eyes looked tenderly through their tears into his.
" Think, Mary, I go from this house to-day, mined!" % "And I go with you!"
" I go hence a dishonored man!" a Why dishonored u Because my name is a synonym for all that is faith-

" So much more the reason that your wife should cling

to yon."

" And yoa are ready to begin life over again with a

pauper, Mary \ "

*

"Beady to share any fate with my husband I"

" God in Heaven, this is more than I deserve; but if

yon will cling to and sustain me, I shall yet livje to

retrieve the past."

"Dear husband, if yoa will only confide in me as you

to do if yon will only let me*help you,.you do not

how it will gladden my heart to cheer yon, no mat-

the clouds may thicken."

" Then yon shall help me, Mary; for ever since I have

withheld iny troubles from yon, things have been getting

worse and worse. .Now, I will tell you my plans, which

up to this time a fake pride has made me conceal from

joo. I intend gfving up everything here to my credit-

That is right" . u And then opening a law-office in M , from which I can reap a comfortable if not a handsome support" "Of coarse." u We will take a house as soon as we have time to look

AT LAST.

265

around, and in the meantime will remain with the girls. What do you think of my plans ?"
With a heart aching at the prospect of leaving the " Manor," .she answered like the brave woman she was:
" I think well of them, and I do not doubt but that we will be more contented there than, here, harassed as we constantly are by our creditors; for 'when we give up everything they will know we have nothing more, and perhaps will let us rest."
" True, my brave wife, my good angel! But see, it is day, and as there is much to be done, we have no time to lose; and may God bless you for lifting the burden from my heart, as you .have done this morn ing. Have the house put in perfect order, for doubt less Hammerly will be here early to claim his ill-gotten prize;" and with a kiss, the husband and wife who, through the false pride of the former, had been, so long estranged, repaired to their respective duties with lighter hearts than they had known for many weary months. Thus we see that perfect confidence and love between man and wife can brighten even the brink of despair, and as God is our Judge, we believe nothing less should exist.
How true it is that we never know how much we can endure until our powers of endurance are called into action.
Mrs. Troup was an example, for had she given way to her feelings, the day would have been spent in useless weeping; but with a stout heart she forced back her tears, and went bravely forward to do whatever had to be done. Calling the servants early, sHe gave each their re spective tasks, and with kind words flitted here and there, encouraging them in their work. To avoid these painful

266

AT LAST.

in-door preparations, Mr. Tronp sought relief outside; but there was no peace for him, not even in the woods, for there memory followed him, and the accusations of a guilty conscience tortured him almost to madness. Grief made him oblivious of time, and when, at length, he con sulted his watch, he was amazed to find that several hours had gone by. Quickly retracing his .steps, he stood for a moment upon an eminence that commanded a fine view of his lost estate, and taking a last lingering look, went hurriedly on to the house, without even a backward glance.
The house was not one of those palaces that yon gen erally read of in novels, but was a regular Southern home; and when we say this, we mean it was one of those large, square frame houses, with Corinthian pillars supporting a colonnade which ran" around three sides and connected with wings at either end; large windows to*the floor, and a broad flight of granite steps, which were guarded by couchant lions; a broad hall, with grand apartments opening on to it, and everything suggestive of immense comfort'and immense wealth.
There are scores of such houses in the South, and the picture will be recognized at once.
Mr. Troup returned none too soon; for he had been preceded by Hammerly, his -lawyer, and the sheriff, and the three were sitting in sullen silence upon the gallery, awaiting the coming of the " haughty aristocrat." The truth is, Hammerly feared the bird had flown; for a villain believes all others villains, the same as a drunkard thinks all other men drunk. As for Ham<rnerlv,' his regard for man's moral (?) status surpassed even Walpole's; for the premier limited his men who could be

AT LAST.

267

bought to that nmch-abnsed class known as politicians;

bnt, judging others by himself, friend Ilammerly boldly

declared that " every man has his price."

That naughty poet, Byron, said: " Revenge is sweet

to women;" and looking into Haramerly's heart, we find

that it is also sweet to men sometimes; for he would

have considered the estate of the Troups a poor recom

pense for his money, had he been denied the exquisite

pleasure of insulting the " haughty aristocrat," and this

was because Mr. Troup did not receive him socially, but

treated him like the cur he was.

While he was nursing his wrath,"and fearing he would

not have the long-coveted revenge, the honorable subject

of his thoughts walked slowly down the avenue, and,

ascending: the steps, greeted his enemies with the same

ease and elegance with which he would have received a

foreign embassy. His manner was cold and haughty,

though, and plainly said, " Thus far shalt thou go, and no

farther."

" Good-morning, gentlemen. I am sorry if I have kept

you waiting. Come in!" and as he led the way, Hain-

merly followed with a sardonic grin on his bad, bold

face, saying:

--7

" We thought you had gone for good, and--"

" Mr. Ilammerly! " said Mr. Troup, turning and look

ing at him with such a look as made him tremble from

head to f<x>t, while the pettifogger at his back pulled his

coat, and whispered: " Do be more particular."

With a dogged determination, however, to humiliate

his aristocratic debtor all that? he possibly could, and ig

noring entirely his lawyer's whispered advice, he said:

"Come now, Mr.Troup, as our time is d--n precious,

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AT LAST.

we've got none to throw away on airs. If you've got the spondulix, out with it; and if you haven't got it, we'll proceed at once to take an inventory of the house, furni ture, plantation, etc."
Mr. Troap did not answer at once, for never before had man dared to speak to him thus, and the effort to control himself was taxing all the mettle in his power. Becoming impatient, Hamraerly said again:
" Have yo'u got the money 2 " u I regrefr to say I have not, bnt--" " I knew it, I knew it," chuckled this low adventurer. "Never knew one of these d--n fine gentlemen come np to time in my life. They are always ready, though, with the most polished regrets, and the most eloquent apologies; bnt these won't satisfy me, so you had as well spare your breath. Yon see I expected trouble, so I just brought along the county guardian to put down any little unpleasantness which might come up." Wirthing under the impertinence of this low-bred fel low, Mr. Tronp felt as if he could grind him to atoms, as he would a worm under his foot; bnt remembering how entirely he was in his power, he said sternly, and with out condescending to notice his insinuations: " Mr. Hammerly, we are here for business, not conver sation." As it is a well-established fact that only the generous pan be magnanimous to the fallen, we should not be dis appointed to find the ignoble Hammerly a stranger to such a noble sentiment. At length the knave was awed into silence by that mag netic power which superior minds must ever exert over

AT LAST.

.

269

inferior intellects, and Mr. Troup continued to say, with a dignity and iciness which was unapproachable:
" The bond distinctly says if the money is not returned on such a day, that I relinquish all interest in the prop erty, now held by me, and known as the * Troup Manor;'
does it not?" " It does," was the laconic reply, while the speaker was
burning with inward rage. ^ " Then, as I haven't the money, we will proceed to take
an inventory of the property, etc;" and leading the way, the three men arose to follow him.
Turning around, Mr. Troup said, with the arrogance of
a master addressing a serf: " Your lawyer will accompany us, Mr. Hammerly, and
the sheriff can either await you 'here or on the gallery." Hammerly looked the daggers he dared not utter, and
both he and his friends were in their hearts as much frightened as if they had been in the presence of the arch fiend himself.
Tbe sheriff then speedily betook himself to the gallery. And saying to the other men: ' Excuse me a moment," Mr. Troup stepped into his wife's chamber, and requested her to have dinner prepared for the men, and also to have the carriage ordere^, and to iwve everything in readi ness, so they could leave as soon as he transacted his business.
Then returning to the men, they entered upon their mission silently and solemnly, for one dared not speak, and the other had no inclination for conversation.
Never had Mr. Troup borne himself more grandly than on this occasion, and while the low creatures who followed

270

AT LAST;

at his heels hated him, they were compelled to admit his superiority, for they felt it
But his arrogance was subdued, his haughtiness was considerate, and had he hnt conducted himself in pros perity half so well as he did in adversity, he would not now be a ruined man, and our story would never have been told.
Strange, isn't it, that with all the lights before us, we still go on letting prosperity spoil us 1
Stranger still, isn't it, that we never can understand that of ourselves w.e are nothing--that of ourselves we csn do nothing ?
The unpleasant business ended, the men turned to go, when Mr. Tronp said, politely and authoritatively:
" Gentlemen, you will remain to dinner." The friend upon the gallery was then called; and fol lowing the late master into the dining-hall, which in years gone by had been the scene of so many magnificent ban quets, they partook of a comfortable meal which Mrs. Troup had had prepared. The family portraits which adorned the walls had of course been reserved, and the fact that those handsome frames were not to be his, seriou ly in terfered with Mr. Uammerly's appetite. Certainly the haughty aristocrat was welcome to the pictures, for Mr. Hammeriy only wanted the frames, and he even went into a calculation as to the probability of what they would bring if they were only touched up just a little. Thus it is clear to see that this man who had an eye to business, had no idea of squandering his money upon such a worth less (?) class of people as painters, or upon such a con temptible (?) art as that of Form and Color.
Mrs. Tronp did not, of course, preside at this dinner,

AT LAST.

271

but employed the time in saying " good-by " to such of the servants as were to be found at their " quarters," for most of them were out in the plantation at work
At length, sick at heart, and weary, she sought refuge in Aunt Charity's cottage--another one of those tradi-v tional " Mammys," about whom so mucji has been said and written, but of whose faithful services and life-long de votion not the half will ever be known. Pleading fa tigue, she sank down upon a snowy bed, and gave vent to the tears which would no longer be repressed.
u Yon be tired, honey, did you say ?" asked dear old " Aunt Charity," who sat, the veritable picture of com fort and neatness, arrayed in a blue checked dress, with the inevitable white apron, cape, and cap, while her glasses rested faithfully over eyes that would never enjoy another glimpse of this beautiful world. No answer coming from her mistress, the feeble old nurse, by the aid of a cane, hobbled to the bed, and hearing the low sobs,
said kindly: " What be de matter, honey!" " Oh, Aunt Charity!" was all the heart-broken mis
tress could say; but that told all that she suffered, and " Aunt Charity " brushed away a tear as she said:
" Poor chile! dese is dark times, but if ye trusts m de Lord, He will gib yer strengt, to bear up under dem;" for " Aunt Charity" was, and had ever been, the confi dante of her mistress, and she knew that the hour of ruin
had come at last. Soon forcing back the tears which she did not wish her
husband to see, Mrs. Troup said : * Aunt Charity, we are going to-day, never to retime
But as I told you, you were not included in the deed, and

272

AT LAST.

as soon as we get a house, we will send for yon, and yon are to come and stay with ns as long as yon live. Do yon hear?"
But the poor old soul was sobbing like a child, and eonld not reply.
a Say, Aunt Charity, do you hear? " again pressed her mistress.
" Yes, honey, pervided de good Lord don't take me to dem mansions in de skies 'fore den.1'
*
" Well, if He does, you'll be better off, for you know there's a crown awaiting you up there."
Here the conversation was interrupted by Mr. Troup, who, having turned the keys over to and dismissed the future possessor of the " Manor," came in search of his wife, in order to quit a place where it was now torture to remain. Once, not so very long ago, the son had experienced the same painful feeling. Now, the father suffers the same torture. But the causes are vastly different, and not until that last hour did the late master realize:
f* Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." Bidding Aunt Charity " good-by," and telling her he would send for her soon, he slipped fiis wife's hand through his arm, and after a sobbing ** God bless you " from the blind old creature, who clung to them as if they were parting forever, the master and mistress walked e*d1y and slowly away. Following a little path that led to the family burying-ground, they noiselessly entered the gate, and walked amongst die tombs of their ancestors for generations back, for the husband and ^wife were ooqsinB. There were many silent sleepers there, for the hereditary foe, consumption, had made death a frequent

AT LAST.

273

visitor in both families, and as usual^ had singled out the brightest and most beautiful for its fatal mark. Al though unaffected by the tombs of the elder members of the family, when they arrived at the graves of their own little ones, the crushed pride of Mrs. Troup was all for gotten, the world, with its sneers was ignored, and the sobbing woman, who knelt and kissed the turf-covered, violet-decked mounds, beneath which rested her own flesh and blood, was only the--mother. The haughty father, too, was deeply moved, and this seemed strange, when we remember that he buried those little ones without a tear, and with a curse in his heart for tlie God who took them. And here we would ask why it is that pa rents are so inconsolable for those little creatures, whom they know are taken from sorrow to come ? Will they never appreciate--can they never understand--that their bereavement is a mercy to their offspring ? Neither do we say this in a spirit of complaint or rebellion, for well we know thatfthis world is full of beauties for the pure, .full of pleasures for the virtuous. But we all know that the saiutliest life must have its trials; and for this reason we would dry the tears which fall for the innocents whom God has given and whom God Ijas taken away. Stand ing in the presence of the dead, and thinking of the dreary future before him, Mr. Troup thought what a re lief it would be if fife could add one more to their silent number. But to those who consider death a privilege, life is generally the boon which is given in its stead, and to live was now the fate of Mr. Troup.
At length the last sad visit was over, and without a word, father and mother walked slowly out from atnong

274

AT LAST.

their dead, and going down the lawn, entered tbe car riage, which had been waiting for them some hours.
A group of faitlifnl servants stood around the carriage holding bundles, while the tears trickled down their dusky cheeks, for they loved their owners with a child*like devotion that was born of their very dependence.
Placing the bundles in the "carriage, several asked at

Mistis, can I do anything else for you f " a No, thank you;" tearfully. Then several others said eagerly: " Marster, is there anything else you wish done ? n "Nothing," he answered; and with a hasty "goodby " for one and all, he said, u Drive on," and the com mand was obeyed. The house was bathed in a warm April sun, but the shatters were all closed, the doors were all locked, and it wore the dismal appearance of some grand mausoleum. And might it not be coasidered one ? for if it .did not contain dead bodies, it was the sepulchre of buried hopes --of dreams born bat to perish, and of unholy ambitions doomed to be fatal to him who nurtured them. The grand old oaks cast their shadows long and dark, for the sun was low down the sky; the birds twittered merrily as they coquetted with their mates; the violets peeped timidly out from the grass; bat the beauties were aH lost upon the late master and mistress, for their hearts were breaking. Slowly, sadly, as if they had been following in the wake of some funeral train, did they drive down the avenue and out at the lodge-gate, without one parting look--for the wife was weeping upon her husband's

AT LAST.

275

breast, and his hat was drawn down over his eyes to con ceal the tears which trickled down his checks.
Thus, "good-by" to the "Manor," and the question naturally arises, u Will we ever visit it again?"

876

OVER THE SEA.

CHAPTER invr.
OTEB THE SEA.
._
JOWARDS the end of May, a beautiful girl sat upon the deck of the Nautilus, which was anchored in sight of Liverpool.
The scene was one of marvellous beanty; bnt she was not tMnlring of the docks towards which her glorious eyes were directed, nor of the city of manufactories, nor of the myriads of white sails that were visible, nor of the tiny boats that studded the Mersey, nor of Him who guided their ship into safety; but with the seabreeze kissing her cheeks, she was dreaming of the Old World--that Mecca for which her soul had longed from childhood, and wondering if her feet were at last about to press its sacred soil; for in the moment of realization, the thought seemed too beautiful to be true.
Upon the lower deck, the gentlemen looked after the luggage, and always anxious to avoid a crush, their fair travelling-companion awaited them above.
The past had no part or place in her reflections, and she was almost sorry when the American Ambassador to the Court of St. James said:
*
a Come, Gertrude, it is oar time now." " ^nd the Captain is hurrying us like everything, for fear he will not get us all landed before dark," added Paul; and while he gathered up her wraps, she arose, and giving her hand to her uncle, descended with him to

OVER THE BEA.

277

the tug that was to transfer them to the shore once more. For the trio were none others than onr old friends, Mr. Reuben Hall, Gertrnde, and PauL
When last we saw them, they were upon the eve of a new Presidential inauguration. "Well, the inauguration, with all of its usual accompaniments, was now a thing of the past, and the honor of representing the United States Government as Minister to England, having been ten dered to and accepted by the " Sage of Pleasant Re treat," he and suite were now en route to their new destination.
Gertrude was still to occupy the post of private secre tary, while Paul went as an attach^.
The whole party had paid a flying visit to dear old Georgia for the 'purpose of saying " good-by" to the loved ones, and at the suggestion of Mr. Hall, Mrs. Law rence had rented her home in L--:--, in order to take charge of affairs at " Pleasant Retreat."' Many were the people who marvelled at the good fortune that had be fallen the " dressmaker's daughter," and all the u Sweet hearts, Tsays, Blanches," et id omne genus^ sneered at the idea of the Government sending that parvenu, Reuben Hall, to represent the American aristocracy (?) abroad..
How sadly times have changed !!! Then, they wanted a gentleman; now, that is not considered a necessary requisite.
Then, they wanted honesty in high places; now, unless a man knows how to steal--beg pardon--unless he under stands making the Government his debtor, he might as well hang his harp upon the willow, and retire to the shades of private life. But no matter what the. dear

278

OVER THE SEA.

people wanted in those days, they got whatever the

occupant of the White House gave them, for he was a

man of his own mind, and not to be bought So to Eng

land the Hon. Reuben Hall went, and if he could not

and eat a soft-boiled egg in the shell quite as

tically as one of the u bloods " might have done, he

did more, for he performed the duties of diplomat with

credit to himself and honor to his country.

After an unsatisfaetory night at Liverpool, oar travellers

took the express train to London, and passing through a

highly cultivated country, reached the city of fogs the

same night

The term of the officiating Minister not having yet ex

pired, Mr. Hall contemplated a visit^oi*-thg_ Continent;

bat as Gertrude had not encouraged the trip very much,

mod is he found himself daily more and more dependent

upon this truly noble woman, he thought he would con

sult her once more, and abide by her decision. So, a

day or two after their arrival in London, he said:

" Well, Gertrude, what do you say to a trip on the Con

tinent?"

** I leave it entirely to you, uncle;" rather indifferently.

"Which means, I suppose, I don't care to go, dear

uncle, but will do as you wish."

" Hoi at all, for I certainly hope to visit Italy before

we return."

V^

" Italy I" said the uncle in surprise.

"Yes. Whynott"

" Nothing," he answered smilingly," only Fm surprised

yon did not select Paris, for I thought that was considered

the women's Paradise."

" And why?"

OVEK TT1E SEA.

279

" I'm sure I don',t know! Enlighten me!" u That they may dress, ride in the Bftis^ and listen to gallant speeches from flippant, soulless Frenchmen." " Yon are rather severe upon the race of cavaliers;" bnt without noticing his reply, she said, with much earnestness: " Uncle, I have told you before, and I tell you again, that it is my desire to stody and know the English char acter, for I would like to know what secret power it is which makes them so vastly superior to all other nations. For this purpose I shonld like to spend most of my time in England; and I assure you, I wouldn't give one day in London, with all its traditional fog, for forty days spent in the whirl of the mad metropolis," Always anxious to draw her out, so that he might know the exact motives which guided her life and actions, Mr. Hall said: " And why do you wish to study the English character, Gertrode ? " u That I may imitate them," was the frank reply. " What! are yon not satisfied with the American mode of doing things ? " "I think, considering our age, that we have accom plished wonders; and judging the future by the past, I do not doubt but that we are destined to become the grand est nation on the globe; but there is one great defect in . our national character." "What is that?"
"We live for the present and not for the future. Whatever we do, we do in a hurry. We go to work as if we had only a day to live, while an Englishman is as deliberate as if he had a thousand years before him." *

CooldnH have been better said, if I had said it my-

*

!

Ah!yoa

"Bat what do yon propose doing, Gertrude; enter

ing Parliament or becoming Lord Chancellor f" quizzi

cally. " I propose doing nothing of which yon shall ever be
ashamed," answering die first question without noticing

die last one; "and perhaps, who knows, I may do some-

thrag of which yon may be very proud."

"Why, my dear child, I am so proud of yon now that

I caa scarcely walk die streets of London, and every day

I think it's a thousand pities you are not a boy. Yoa

talk and think like a man ; and indeed, you are less like

a woman than any woman 1 ever saw."

* What do yon know of women, pray f "

s

"Much more than yon have any idea," he said, with a

sigh; and the sad expression upon his face recalled that

miming of long ago, when he told her how utterly and

hopelessly he had loved.

"Even granting that yoa do know all about diem, I

most teil yo, uncle, that I do not appreciate that last com-

piimeiit as moch as yon might suppose, for I have no de

sire f be called 'strong-minded,' but a sincere prefer

ence to be known as a most womanly woman."

Struck with her good seaae on this subject, as well as

on all others, he said:

'.

. r.

u Well, anything that suits yon suits, me. But suppose

we retorn to the subject of the Continent now!" " Yes, do; that's the subject I am interested in," said
Paul, who entered just in time for the last remark: when do we leave for la MU Francef"

OVER THE RICA.

281

"Another American gone crazy about Paris," said

Gertrude, with pretty disdain.

" I'm snre I think the cause j ostrfies the craziness. Bat

when do we go?"

" I leave it to Gertrude."

" Any time that suits you, dear uncle, suits me."

u Yery well then, as I cannot leave conveniently after

I have once entered upon my duties, and as I need the

recreation, the sooner we go the better."

" Your wishes, without any reasons, are sufficient, dear

uncle, and I can be ready to leave within an hour."

" Spoken like your own sweet self, and rewarded ac

cordingly ;" giving her a kiss.

"How I do wish I was somebody's uncle," said Paul,

with a look of envy at a cruel demonstration which often

tantalized him.

"You see, Paul, age has its compensations ? "

a Yes, I see it, to my sorrow."

" And youth its tortures ? " asked the kissed young lady

mischievously.

.

"How cruel, and how very womanly to spoil all the

pleasure by such a mean little speech," said the uncle,

quite disconcerted, while Paul had a good laugh at his

expense, which almost repaid him for not having had a

Here the conversation ended, and if the trio did not leave -for the Continent within an hour, they did go within a few days, and there we shall leave-them for the pres ent, with our very best wishes for a ton voyage.

382

HUSH!!!

CHAPTER "KTJT.

HUSH ! ! I

fcEAD softly! leave the gay world, quit the

bright sunshine, and come with us to the cham

ber of death, for it is there we all most come

atlaet

v

We know you scarcely have the time to spare, we feel

that you follow us reluctantly, for an impatient frown

rests upon your brow, and down in your heart a voice

whispers, "Life is too short for such doleful scenes as

flua."

.

But we will ntt detain you long, for the Angel of

Death is in cruel haste to bear our sweet flower away,

and even now is clutching her in his icy grasp. What

was wealth--what were prosperity, luxury, friends, es-

jtatejs worth in that hour?

The frantic parents would have thrown all their treas

ures into the yawning grave, and like Cm-tins, wonld

have cast themselves in, if the chasm would close over

them alone, and spare their child. They said to them-

fcelftis, g We are old; our race is nearly run; take us, and

leave our darling; ** bot God knew best, and he took the

flower in its springtime.

How calm and beautiful she looks! and her little one

feleeps as quietly in the crib over which "Mammy"

watches, as if it would not be motherless in a few more

hours. *

. HUSH!!!

sss

Poor Mrs. Dearing sits on one side the bed, alter nately wiping away her tears, and stroking the pale, white brow of her child ; Clifford kneels on the other side, rubbing the transparent little hands, thus trying to bring back their warmth ; but the blood is settling around the ! nails, and they are growing colder each moment; this task is in vain; and the father sits with his back to this scene, crushed and heart-broken.
The chamber is darkened to keep out the noonday sun; but there is still light enough for ns to see the sweet res ignation upon the brow of the little blue-eyed wife," the agonized expression upon the face of the mother, the dejection and despair of the father, and the utter contri tion and self-reproach which bows the husband in heart broken humility to the earth.
That last hour is scarcely more trying to the one who is entering upon the dark Valley of the Shadow of Death than it is to those who are left behind; for even if we have been kind and loving and attentive, it will be an hour of suffering; but when we have neglected and slighted the one who is going from us forever, when we feel that perhaps we have broken the heart that is throb bing its last throbs, self-reproaches will accuse us bitterly, aud when it is too late, we will plead: ** Oh, God, give her back to me! 'spare her, and I will try aud make her happy." Thus did Clifford feel, and thus will others of us feel, one day, when the leaf is folded back, and we see written upon the page of life the record of duties unper formed. The dear old doctor was there, too, and to the oft-repeated question of the agonized mother:
"Doctor, can yon not save her?" he said, at last: " She may possibly linger until night"

Then be came into the room and felt the pulse of his "little Jerome" again, and turning to him, she said, calmly:
How long, doctor 1" With a sigh he tamed away without replying; then she said again: "Don't deceive me, doctor. I know I am dying, and I have a reason for asking how long I have to live." Her voice was very weak bnt it- did not falter ; for she was not afraid to die. Still the doctor stood with his back to her and made no reply ; then she said again : u Doctor, come here; 99 and when he came and took the thin, little hand that she extended to him, she said once more," Why do yon not answer met Yon never treated me so before, and it may be the last request I shall ever make of yon ; then tell me, how long can I possibly live ? " . No longer aWe to resist her pleadings, he said hurriedly but solemnly: "Possibly until night;" and pressing her hand, walked eiowly ottt of the room to hide his tears. "Then, dear mother, will yon and father and ' Mam my/ please leave me alone with Clifford for a little

" Oh, my child, don't send as away," pleaded the dis

tracted mother, as she yielded to the first great outburst

of grief,

.,

It will be OBT/ Ior a little MSe, mother."

" Bet in that little while you might---- ;" but her lips

refused to speak die dreaded word.

" Yes, dear mother, I might die then ; but your staying

wfll not keep me, and as I have only so short a time, grant

HUSH!!!

285

me this last request, and leave me with my husband for a few moments."
At length, yielding to this heart-rending appeal, the mother kissed her one little treasure, as if parting from her forever, and was then led away by Mammy and "fatter/' while their sobs filled the room. Reaching the door, she turned, screamed, and rushing back, folded her child in her arms once more, and kissing her frantically,
said: " Don't be long, darling; don't keep mother away;"
and with the assurance of, u No, mother, I will not," she went weeping from the
room.
Turning to her husband then, Virginia said: " Close the door, Clifford, and hand me my writingdesk."
She was very much agitated, and her poor little broken heart was palpitating fearfully with Hie exertion of this last effort
Fortunately, Clifford did not notice it; and complying with her request, he resumed his seat, and silently awaited, with an ill-defined dread, something, he knew not what.
Forgetting for the moment bow sacredly the desk was kept Licked, the wee wife smiled and said faintly: U I forgot it was locked. Please, Clifford, look in my top bureau drawer, in the right-hand corner, and youll find a little key tied with a piece of blue ribbon."
The key was found, the desk unlocked, and taking from it with trembling fingers a letter which was sealed and addressed, she said falteringly:
" Clifford, in this letter, yoa will find my----dying---- request.5'

HUSH!!!
A straggle for breath, and an effort to lorce back the tears which would come, made Her hesitate ; but it was only for a few minutes, for she was determined that noth ing should keep her from the fulfilment of this last sad doty. Clifford looked the picture of despair as he sat with his head bowed upon both hands, and only rod above knew what remorse filled his heart in that painful hoar.
A few moments of rest, and the dying wife continued : " One year from to-day I wish yon to open this letter and xk> what I have here asked, yon to do. It is nothing bat what yoo can do, and I feel sure--I hope--I pray--it is something, which will make you
At the word u happy," he trembled visibly, and instinetively he felt that his secret had been discovered.
"In it also yon will find the name I desire our little one to bear, should she live."
Then drawing his hands gefitly from his face, shevplaced the lettefthereiB, and said earnestly :
"I have one other request to make, Clifford ;" to which he sighed, but said nothing.
**I ask you to promise me that YOU will never take an other drink--"
A long pause followed this request, and the expression 'upon the thin, pale face of the pleader deepened to pain ful anxiety as she waited ; then she said again :
a Do yoo promise!" Another agonizing suspense, and then the awful silence was broken by the manly tones of her husband, and her face became radiant with hope, as he said firmly :

HTTBH!!!

287

"I do!" for she knew his a word was his bond," and she knew he would keep his promise,
" I have not lived in vain, then," she said, laying her head back on the pillow, and closing her eyes in utter ex haustion ; " and now, I can die in peace." Tlien, after a few moments of rest, she opened her eyes and said:
u Draw back the curtains and let the sunlight come in, Clifford--and call father and mother--and let me kiss our little one once more--" for her shortness of breath and her
failing strength told her she was sinking rapidly. Ignoring her requests, and forgetting everything but the
dying woman before him, he cried with a voice whose agony pierced her heart:
" Oh, Virginia, my wife; I cannot let yon die, until I ask you to forgive me;" and lifting her fragile form in his arms, he pressed her to his heart, where she nestled her head, and said:
Forgive you, dear--Clifford ? " " My God--yes---forgive me!" but her head drooped, her eyes closed, her lips faltered: " Mother--father--CJliford--baby," and then--she was no more, a Virginia!" came in one wild, despairing cry; it pen etrated the house, but it could not awaken the dead. The door opened, the frantic parents rushed in, followed by the doctor and a score of faithful servants; bat it was too late; no restoratives, no tears, no waitings could re call her now, for she was safely anchored in the haven of eternal rest. Was ever heroism more grand--was ever martyrdom more complete ?

CHAPTER
nr AHHKHL
to the ground!!" "What?" u'Why, the'Manor!' Had yon not heard it?" ; how did it happen?" "No one knows; but it is whispered that the old Troop did it!"
" To revenge themselves upon their new master for his brutal treatment to them; and by the way, I hear he narrowly escaped with his life, and is quite badly burned."
"Pity he hadn't been burned to death, for that is too good a death for such a brute as he is. Why, do yon know that that man has been working those negroes not only from daylight to dark, but upon moonlight nights makes them pick cotton until midnight"
"Impossible! The reports must be exaggerated!" "I have seen it myself, and I hear that he has reduced their rations to barely enough of the coarsest diet to sus tain life, and that he allows them to go in such rags and tatters that their nakedness is not hid." " A sad change from'the treatment of the Troups, for in their day their negroes were pampered and indulged almost to idleness. Who is this Hammerly, anyhow?" "A mere adventurer; no body knows who or where

TS
be came from, and to wind up with, a most nnscnjpnlons money-getter ? "
a Socli men are not fit to Lave the control of human beings, for they do not understand the difference between men and brutes; both are alike driven for the almighty dollar."
" Yes; I am more and more convinced that none bat Southern people who nave been accustomed to them, but more especially, gentlemen, should have the control of negroes. For instance, take a man who, all his life. Las been accustomed to doing menial labor, and he will make the most unfeeling tyrant, should he ever have any one under him in the same capacity. In other words, he has no sympathy with the class from which he came. On the other hand, take a gentleman, and he will treat his slaves with kindness and consideration, simply because they are in his power."
Thus talked two of the neighbors at Tate's, a cross roads store near the " Manor," the day after the fire.
It was now October, four months since the occurrence of the sad events recorded in the last chapter, and as we see, the cruelties of the new master of the "Manor" had met with a terrible, but justly deserved retribution--for no man has any right, morally speaking, to grind another man into the earth, simply because he can do it--and we do not doubt but that this act of cruel injustice will meet with its reward in accordance with the Divine precept: u As ye mete, so shall it be meted to you again."
But Hammerly, like other upstarts who suddenly and unscrupulously grow rich, began to appreciate this fact just one day too late, for the "Manor" was in ashes, and no amount of penitence could bring back the treasures
13

390

or AI

that lay melted amidst the ruins. Win he now grow

wiser or better?

Ten to one, he wfll become more hardened, and if he

is not too cowardly, wfll make the poor creatures who

are in his power pay the penalty of their rashness, forget

ting that the Lord has said: "Vengeance is mine; I

will repay."

r

\

A BTRSB STRUGGLE.

291

X CHAPTER XLIT.
A B11TJU& STS9GGIJE.
(OVERTY without remorse is hard to bear, bat poverty with remorse would tax the strength of the strongest
Down in a back street, in the city of M----, in a little, rickety, old-fashioned, shabby house, which looked as though it hadn't been painted for the last half century, lived the once aristocratic Troops.
Excessively plain though as the interior was, it was thoroughly neat and bespoke refinement There was very little furniture, and as it had been contributed by their daughters, no two pieces were alike; but even this became quite presentable under the polishing which Mrs. Troup frequently gave it
A few family pictures adorned the walls, and a vase of flowers here and there seemed to mock the, misery upon which they smiled.
Ilad the consciences of these way-worn pilgrims been at ease, they might have been happy, even in this humble home, for all tire world knows that money cannot buy happiness. It may purchase the pleasures of the passing hour, but it cannot silence the accusations of a misspent life, or bid the ghost of painful memories depart
At first, Mr. Troup tried with commendable energy to stem the current that seemed bearing him on to de~ Btructiofl, and some few faithful friends, rallied to his

*

A JurrK& STSXTGGUL

support. Bot this did not last long; for, mentally, he was

pursued with an avenging Nemesis, which threatened to

destroy his reason, and physically he had not/the conr-

age to begin a new life in his old age.

What then shonld he do bat seek oblivion in some

potent panacea, which should drown the pangs of re

morse that haunted him day and night?

This was easily found in whiskey or brandy, and

opium; and now, every dollar that conld be donated, or

, or screwed ont of some one else, went to par-

'

,.

*

.

*

chase the only antidote which could soothe the conscience-

stricken old man. - He had sold his daughters to the high

est bidders, who now in return ignored and left him to

his hapless fate, because he was indebted to them. He

had tanght his only son that noblesse oblige was of more

importance than the commandments of God, and together

they were the murderers of the gentle wife who slept

beneath the sod.

He had made money his idol, he had set God at

defiance, and now he was reaping the.whirlwind which

his own hands had scattered abroad.

He was irritable and fractious beyond conception, and

when the influence of the palliatives was dying out in his

system, he would scream r

^"More, more, Mary! 99 as a starving man pleads for

UBpfeMLinorsel which is to rescue him from starvation.

^^\

jBfcfc.

YieJtibg to these excruciating importunities, the pa

tient, hei art-broken wife would administer dose after~ doee, mail reason was dethroned and memory silenced,

and wben her poor wreck of a husband was at last gt^tieted" ,! she would kneel down and pray to God for help.

The son bad nothing but ft gynall income from a pre-

A BITTER STRUGGLE.

293

cations practice, most of which had passed into other hands during his illness and absence, hat every dollar that was not actually needed to keep body and soul to gether, was at once'conveyed to his mother.
The daughters occasionally sent a donation from their own private purees, but the combined sums from every source were insufficient to supply the expensive^lnxuries (?) which lulled the conscience of the father, and the credit of the honorable gentleman being a thing of the past, of course the cash had to be paid for every pur chase.
Add to this expense, fuel, provisions, house-rent, and servants' hire, besides all the little details of housekeep ing, and it will be easy to see how much faster the money went out than it came in; for there was no one to turn the wheel of necessity, and yet it kept turning all the time. Too proud to let her children know she was suffering, Mrs. Tronp from time to time disposed of her jewels, then her laces, then what* little silver was left, and still he cried:
"More, more," until the wretched wife was almost frantic, and until she feared he must and would die.
But it seemed the design of Provide!! e that he should live, and that he should suffer, aiiti jio earthly power could save him from drinking the same bitter draughts which he had held so mercilessly to the lips of others.
Friends walked by on the other side, relatives ignored, children deserted, and the heart-broken wife was left alone in her anguish to minister to the wants of him for whom she would gladly have borne every sorrow. But that was not possible, and so the days went wearily by, and while the old man raved and cried for

294

Jf ETTTEB STRUGGLE,

"More, more!" the wrinkles deepened npon the mother's brow, her hair grew white, and with listless hands she sat rocking to and fro, or else watching by the coach of the loved one faithfully and slecplessly--a perfect picture of resignation to the will of God.
She did not murmur. She knew there could be noth ing worse in store for her, and with her heart draped in mourning, and her house wreathed with cypress, she passed silently down the dark and cheerless Yale of Mis ery, which, alas! could end only in the grave.

BACK IN LONDON.

295

CHAPTER XLY.'

BACK IN LONDON.

\

_
TH

*
the

early

days

of

October,

our

tourists

re

tained from the Continent to London, and settled

themselves comfortably for the winter.

TL* Ambassador, being much occupied with affairs of

State, placed his private secretary under the special care

of his attache, giving him positive orders to " show her

everything in London, without reserve."

In obeying this command, Paul placed himself and all

his leisure time entirely at Gertrude's disposal, an<^ it is

scarcely necessary to add that he was only too happy to be

so enslaved. Thns day after day went by, and together they visited
the world-renowned Westminster; together they trod die gloomy cells of the tragic Tower; together they listened to the speeches of the Lords and Commonera; together they were thrilled by the music of the finest operas; to gether they dived into dens of poverty, and rescued its wretched victims from the jaws of death; together they went everywhere, saw everything; and is it strange that Paul became more and more infatuated with his beau
tiful companion, as time drifted on ? But he never told her of this great love; and thinking
he had entirely recovered from his past fancy, Gertrude treated him in an unceremonious, confidential way, which
but served to increase his devotion.

BACK IK LONDON.
She was his thought by day and night; he cared for no other society, and his world was centred in her.
He was an enthusiast over her mnsic; he studied French with her; together they read all manner of books; and it was the double effort of his life to antici pate her wishes, and to do whatever he imagined wonld give her pleasure.
Early in the season, Mr. Hall said: u And you think yon can resist the fascinations of LoudoD society, Gertrade 1" u Indeed I can, nude, and without an effort, jfor I do not intend to be tempted," "Ah! but you will deserve no credit for resisting a temptation of which you know nothing." u Well, then, I wfll agree to attend just such fentertainments as TOO suggest.3' "Suppose I should be very exacting in my sngges-
tlODSf"
"But I do not fear that, when yon know so well how I feel on the subject."
u Yon are qnite right, child; for I am snre I wonld be the last person in the world to give yon a moment of discomfort."
"I suspect that most of my dissipation will be confined to the opera, whither Panl lias kindly consented to take me whenever I wish to go;" and looking smilingly np, the refenred-to yonng gentleman said :
* Certainly, with only too ranch pleasure." Then, mischievously, Mr. Hall said: u Gertrude, I declare I think it is very selfish of you to monopolize Paul so. He must be bored to death.".

BACK IN LONDON.

297

" Are yon ?" she said, with the least bit of coquetry,

and a smile no man on earth conld resist.

"Of course," he answered; bnt by the tone of voice she

knew well enongh he meant " Of coarse not"

"I*promised to present him to the daughters of*my

friend, Lord Hampden; but I suppose I shall have to ask

your permission, or wait, at least, until you can release

him from his numerous engagements with yon."

" He is at liberty to go whenever he chooses,% and I am

quite sure I have no power of keeping him, even if I were

selfish enongh to desire to do so."

Her face was the least bit troubled, and she felt a little

piqvfd at the idea of being a bore. What woman

wouldn't ? especially a pretty one.

/

Seeing this, Paul hastened to say:

" Gertrude, I wouldn't resign the pleasure of attending

you wherever you wished to go, for all the daughters of

all the lords in England."

' He did not mean to be so warm, but his words could

not be recalled now, and as they brought the blushes to

Gertrude's cheeks/they sent a thrill of joy to the Ambas

sador's heart. Why? We know, you and I, for we

know that he had not yet abandoned the old dream of

more than a year ago; bnt in their innocence, \L\sprotcg4s

failed to see that he was only drawing them out, and try

ing, if possible, to sound the secret depths of their respec

tive hearts.

"How very complimentary you are to the English no

bility !" said J&i. Hall, after a good laugh at Paul's en

thusiasm.

.

-

" Yes; considering how much they value the opinions

of Americans, they would, doubtless, feel very much

BACK IN LCND05.
gEfgy hied to know that an American pf refers one of his own countrywomen without any ' blood,' to all the hereditary aristocracy of England."
a Doubtless," answered Mr. Hall, with a poor attempt to conceal the sympathetic smile which these -words elicited.
a But I insist, Paul, that yon do as my uncle desires, and I will not go ont with yon again nntil yon have paid yonr respects to ' the daughters of my Lord Hampden.'"
This was said with such determination, that the gentle men understood the fiat was to be obeyed, and laughing, Mr. Hall said:
u So ho, my young man, yon hare your orders." To which, with an air of utter resignation, and evi dently wishing the ' daughters of my Lord Uampden" at the bottom of the sea, Panl said: u When shall we make the proposed visit ? " ' "We will have to write and consult the pleasure of their ladyships," answered the Ambassador, who seemed quite amused to see his young friend so teased. " Their ladyships," said Paul with a sneer; and cer tainly, if the Misses Hampden had known how they were discussed by this obscure American, they would have died of anger, or else closed their aristocratic doors against the vile intruder forever.' How many of the dear creatures share a similar fate to that of the Misses Hampden, and how many poor men are dragged to see women whom they do not care to know, Is really melancholy to contemplate; but we sup pose, so long as the ladies remain in blissful ignorance, it does not matter.
There's one AJOMoiatkm, tfeoogh, for femininity in this
J

BACK IN LONDON.

299

affair, for tbe pott-prandial part of the feast belongs ex

clusively to their sex; and, believe us, it is not always

daintily served in homoeopathic doses, like cafe-noir* The

quality may be the same, for it will be strong, but the

quantity will vastly outweigh that of the antidote, which

rectifies a little over-indulgence.

Thus, it is barely possible that while some notorious

lady-killer is rehearsing before his mirror the very looks,

the words, the attitudes, which his vanity tells him so

overwhelmingly captivated Miss I>----, that that same

Miss B---- and her "dear Elvira," upstairs in their

wrappers, shivering over a handful of coals, are at the

same hour picking him to pieces Jn genuine feminine

style--which means, not to leave a feather on his back.

So things are al>ont equal in this world, and after all, the

law of compensation seems more evenly balanced than

the scales of justice.

Such conversations as these were daily held in the

home of Mr. Hall, over which his lovely niece presided

with so much grace and dignity; and we doubt if there

was a happier fireside to be found in the great, throbbing,

pulsing city of London.

'

^

The Ambassador had long since gone to his duties, and

fulfilling an engagement, Gertrude and Paul went to

visit some wretchedly poor and suffering people, in whose

behalf this noble girl was interesting herself.

Upon their return, as there was no special writing to

be done that day, they sat down before a cosey fire, to"

continue the reading, of that fascinating book, that beau

tiful dream, that romance without a parallel--" Contarini

Fleming."

Paul's voice was rich and full, and we do not think

000

BACK IN LONDOK.

that Disraeli himself would have objected to tlie manner in which the young attache rendered him, as his voice faltered over the-s&e words:
u ' It was sunset I got ont of tbe carriage, and stole into the gardens of the villa nnperceived. I could see no lights in the building. From this I inferred that Alceste was, perhaps, only paying a farewell visit to her father's house. I ran along the terrace; I observed no one. I gained the chapel; I instinctively trod very lightly. I glanced in at the window. I perceived a form kneeling before the altar. There was a single candle. The kneeling figure leaned back with clasped hands. The hght fell npon the countenance. I beheld the face of Alceste CoutarinL I opened the door gently, but it roused her. I entered.
"'I come,' I said, * to claim my bride.' She screamed, she jumped npon the altar, and clang to the great ebony cross. It was the same iigare and the same atti tude that I beheld in mv vision in the church. * Al-
9t
eeste,' I said, 'you are mine. There is no power in heaven or earth, there is no infernal influence that can prevent you from being mine. You are as much part of me as this arm with which I now embrace you.' I tore her from the cross, I carried her fainting form out of the chapeL
" 'The moon had risen. I rested on a bank,and watched with blended passion and anxiety her closed eyes. She was motionless, and her white arms drooped down appar ently without life. She breathed, yes! she breathed. That large eye opened, and darkened into light. She gazed around with an air of vacancy. A smile, a faint, weet smile played upon her face. She slightly stretched

BACK IH LOSDCHT.

301

her beautiful frame, as if again to feel her existence, and moved her beantifnl arms, as if to try whether she vet retained power over her limbs. Again ,she smiled, and exclaiming ' Contarini!' threw them around my neck.
"' Oh! my Alceste, my long-promised Alceste, you are indeed mine.'
"' I am yours, Contarini. Do with me what you like.'"

80S

CHAPTER XLVL

AIMLESS!



JISTLESSLY rising up in the morning simply be cause it was the custom--going mechanically to perform the same duties day after day--silently
tnrning away from interconree with his fellow-men--ly ing down at night to remorse and sleeplessness--pale and haggard, with now and then a hectic flush upon his cheeks and a hollow eoogh which made one shudder, do yoa recognize the picture ? Would yon dream that this was the happy, buoyant, proud, and ambitious Clifford Troup, to whom we introduced you a little less thau two years ago! Well may you exclaim: "What a wreck!" for the friends who saw him daily could scarcely believe it possible that even the combination of mental and physi cal disease could have made such inroads iu so brief a space. True, the time had been short, but the work was effectual.
His arm, which had never healed, was- of course an additional drain upon a system already enervated, and since the hereditary foe of his ancestors had assailed him, he succumbed rapidly to the combined ravages of a "rooted sorrow" and an incurable disease. His physi cian ordered him to Florida, but he always answered:
"It is only for a tittle while, doctor; and besides, I have business which most be attended to."

AIMLESS!

303

Do you know what this business was ? It was to work that he might rescue his mother from the hardships of poverty, and in order to supply the extravagant? demands of a depraved habit which had fastened itself upon his father.
Thus, he gave himself a living sacrifice to that father who had immolated him upon the altar of pride, upon the idea of Noblesse oblige.
A strange caprice of fortune, was it not I But for the simultaneous assault of both misfortnne and disease, it is possible Clifford might have bonnd np his wounds and presented a smiling face to the world, as so many others do. As we have seen, though, one unfortunate event fol lowed so closely after the other, that he had not time to recover from one before some new calamity was upon him; or at least he regarded them as calamities, and so will we all consider the inevitable trials of life, until we learn to bow meekly, and say: " Thy will be done." His physician time and again suggested a stimulant, but faithful to the promise made to the dead, he told him he could nof take it " But you must," said the doctor; " I prescribe it as a medicine." " Even granting you do, doctor, I cannot take it!" Thus ended every discussion on the subject; and tort ured by suffering, this man, whose hopes were over, whose life was wrecked in the spring-time, returned each day with weary but unflagging devotion to his selfimposed martyrdom. He had rented the cottage of Mrs. Lawrence, and there he lived solitary and alone. Why

304

AIMLESS!

be had done it be could not tell, and that it was an onwise step will at once be seen; for the merooiy of happy bjr-gones which it constantly aroused, only rendered the present darker, and added fresh thorns to the crown which daily pierced his aching brow. One day, however, he was aroused from this apathy by the new* of Mrs, Dealing's death, and in the same letter which brought this sad in telligence, was a request from Mr. DejringV lawyer for the son-in-law to come and look after the " old man/9 whom the writer said he "feared Dvonld not survive his wife long." Then he added: u The joor mother died of a broken heart, if there i such a disease*, never having left tier room since Virginia's death, ani refusing- utterly to be comforted for her lost lamb. The old man sits from morning until night in one spot, w>lj his head resting mpon his hands, which are folded on L< cane, and some times for days does not taste food. The baby, under Mammy's care, thrives weft, and is the only creature about the place that seems to have any life left"
Thus two more beings drifted down the stream of life, aimless and purposeless, and who shaft say what Is to be the end.
Upon his arrival at " Mossy Creek,*' Clifford found the old man in such a state of imbecility that he at once assumed the reins of government, and it was well for all parties concerned that he did. Ttiai h met the approval of his fatfaer-in4aw, was evident; fot whenever Clifford wi* leaving the house, he woolb! look up, and calling to him, say:
" Don't go away," and when assured that he would not, down again the gray head would go upon the hands, and the monotonous life of thin poor, bereft old creature

J

AIMLESS!

305

would cootinne its aimless pulsations. This new life

was a change for Clifford, and while the place constantly

recalled the most painful memories, which he worild

have buried forever out of sight, yet the society of his

little one, to whom he was as yet a stranger, was a

soothing balm for him, and his poor gashed and bleeding

heart began to expand once more with the love wliich

his little " Birdie" called into existence.

She was now eight or nine months old, and soon came

to know her father well, so that she wonld cry when he

went away, and her blue eyes wonld sparkle, her baby

lips would smile, and she would hold out her little arms

to go to him upon his return.

The abject loneliness of heart which he had suffered

was gone now, and the sweet knowledge that he was

loved by his own flesh and blood brought, once more, the

light to his eyes, and filled his being with a strange, new

thrill of joy. It was not the happiness of other days,

when life was just opening before a rose-tinted future,

but it was the thankfulness that there was anything left

to a heart which had abandoned itself to the sad fate it

could not avert In these days, he thought he should like

to live for this little one, so that he might shield her

from the rude blasts which he feared would assail her. .

A

*

And so night after night, when he laid her iu her little

crib, and kissed her until she wonld cry out and fight off

the kisses with her tiny fists, he wonld go down upon his

knees, and pray to God for her welfare and happiness.

Then he would beg so humbly to be spared to rear her

properly, and in his heart be vowed, by the memory of

the mother whom he had so deeply injured, to devote

306

AIMLESS!

wliat had been an aimless life to the child she had left behind.
Then he would lean over the crib and kiss dear little u Birdie " again and again, and murmur, " God bless yon, my little darling."

DAY BY DAT.

307

CHAPTER XLYIL
DAY BY DAY.
jT was a very qniet affair--no cards--only a few friends--a breakfast--a rim to Paris and back-- and then a continuation of the same life which
they had Jed for the past year, except that the private secretary of the American Ambassador was now Mrs. Paul Maxwell, and the attach^ of the same distinguished indi vidual was the proudest bridegroom in all Her Majesty's domains.
Mr. Hall absolutely whistled and sang about the house, he was so happy--Gertrnde was very qniet in her newfound joy, for the fire of her life had bnrned ont at an other shrine, and Paul's enthusiasm was kept in check by her calmness and dignity.
Altogether, though, it was a very contented and happy honsehold; and after a little while, the newly wedded pair settled down to their respective duties, and judging by appearances, one might have supposed they had always befcn married;
"Coiitarini Fleming," helped the eanse wonderfully; and that same day when Paul was reading of how Contarini tore his idolized cousin from the altar and fled with her to.Candia, he closed the book, and throwing himself at the feet of his beautiful listener, said, in a moment of uncontrollable passion:
"How I wish I could show my love for you, Gertrnde,

'T

308

DAT BY J)AY.

as Contarini did for Alceste!" and taking both her hands in his, he kissed them fervently.
She made no reply, hut only blushetJ and looked down, and Panl said again, with an earnestness which would have moved a heart of stone:
"Gertrude, you know how long, how devotedly, how utterly I have loved yon. Is there no hope for me ? Am I to go on Idving and waiting forever?" and his heart beat load, and fast as he searched her face for a reply.
After a few minutes of suspense, she looked him straight in the eyes, and said: '
u Paul, you would not be satisfied with a second love." u I will be satisfied with anything you give me," was his emphatic reply. " You kuow my life ?" u Yes," with a sigh and an expression of pain upon his manly face. u And if I. tell yon that I can never love as I have loved?" " That makes no difference," he sa.'A impatiently. K And if I tell you, that all the warmth and all the fire have gone out of my life, and that there is nothing left in my heart but ashes ? " " Give me the ashes!" he answered quickly, and with a pleading tone, as though pleading for his life. u A poorexchange for such love a* yours." " If I am satisfied, why should you care ? And you do love me as a friend ? " "Yea, dearly; but that is not the kind of love for hus band and wife." "But you will love me by and by, for I shall love you

DAY BY DAY.

309

so dearly that you cannot help it And besides, yon do not love any one else now ? "

K And yon will be mine ?" he said eagerly. But his heart sank within him, as no reply came to gladden it.
However, we have heard that renewed assaults would carry the strongest forts, and by the result we see that this maxim can be applied to affairs of the heart as well as to die incidents of war.
Thus, after a long siege, the enemy capitulated, and judging from appearances, Mrs. Paul Maxwell had for gotten that she once said, " The love of a friend was not the kind of love for a husband and wife,"

N

Ill

CHAPTER JLLVLLL BEAD!!!

Another year gone--another twelve months of

births dcatfag--marriages--of clouds and sun

shine,--of happiness and misery !

A short time in which to crowd the comic and tragic

events which mark the coming and going of each day

with alternate smiles and tears. Clifford and "Birdie"

were now the only watchers by the desolate hearth at

"Mosey Creek," for the old man had joined the silent

sleepers in the family burying-ground, and but for the

langhing and crowing of the little one, the place would

haves been dreary beyond endurance. Under "Mammy's "

care she grew and improved each day, and was, as Tap

per says, " a well-spring of joy in the house." As sole

inheritor of her grandfather's vast property, rumor Boon

named her "a great heiress; 9' and fathers who had an

eye to bosmess, and mammas who were indifferent, yon

know1, to such trifles as money and estates, commenced

early to lay plans as to how such a prize coold be cap-

tared by " my dear diaries Augustas."

- In eonaeqnence of his broken health, and the necessity

of lookmg' after his daughter's property, Clifford dissolved

partnership with his ancle, Judge Baker, and resided per-

maaeody at Mossy Creek."

And BOW. it was the anniversary of poor Yirgmia'i

;.

*



*

W

BEAD!!!

death Going into her r^oin, which he had never oe-

cnpied, Clifford locked the door, and taking from the

writing-desk the letter which contained her dying re

quest, sat down, and with trembling fingers broke the

seal. Then, with eyes filled with wonder, he read the

words which his little, dead wife had penned. There were only a few lines, bat they filled his heart with a

strange feeling as he read them time and again. <Then

he pressed his hand to his eyes, and looked to see if hewas

not mistaken; then he turned the sheet over-*he looked

around the room--he looked at himself--everything was

right, and he examined the letter again. It certainly

was Virginia's handwriting, bat was it possible that any

woman ever lived who could write what was in that let

ter?

-'

Yes, he knew that his little wife was capable of doing

it He knew that she had lived--he knew she was

dead oat yonder under the long moss, and brushing away

a tear, he folded the sacred letter, and kissing it, mar-

mured:

.

"'

"My poor Virginia! you were indeed an angeL" * *% .

A month later, a thin, pale man presented himself at

the door of the American Ambassador's residence in .

London. His step was unsteady--his heart flattered ner

vously--and there was an tmdefinable expression in his

eyes, as of a secret not revealed.

While standing in this state of bewilderment and agi

tation, the door opened, and a footman awaited his pleasure.

Forgetting for the instant that he was not in the

" Sonny South," where &e'familiarity existing between

[312

BEAD!!!

i
r

servants and owners wonld have made it not only a le

gitimate bat a natural qnestion, he said, to the astonish

ment of the Briton:

u Is Miss Gertrnde in ? "

"Yon mean Miss Lawrence that was, sir?" asked the

attendant with something like a sneer.

Only catching the name of u Miss Lawrence," and not

the two words u that was," the stranger said impatiently:

"The same; is she in I" and his determined tone and

look made^Toim cower as he answered quickly:

She is, sir."

u Tell her an old friend wishes to see her; " and with

out awaiting an invitation from the nsher, whom he

fancied did not wish to admit him, the pale gentleman

walked in, when John instantly threw open the door of

the reception-room, and said:

"Walk in,7 sir."

9

Agitated almost beyond control, and trembling with

excitement, he sank down and panted for breath. The

few minutes which passed thns seemed like ages; then

footsteps were heard coming hastily down the stairway.

He wanted to see her, bnt he was filled with fears and

doubts. Wherefore? Nothing conld have happened!

Of coarse not! What could 1 It had only been a year

and a half since he had seen her; of course nothing conld

have occurred in so short a time as that; oh no, nothing!

Then his heart gave a little doubtful throb to such over-

cenfidence as this. But she said she wonld never marry,

and of course she would keep her word; and thns the

stranger consoled, doubted, believed, and tortured himself

alternately.

In the midst of these thoughts, Gertrude entered the

BEAD!!!

313

room, and stood gazing earnestly, but without recogni tion, at the pale man who had called himself "an old friend." A look of disappointment and pain came over his face,.and sighing, he said, with a faltering voice:
-" Do yon not know me ?" " Clifford!!" and the tone was not nnlike' that tone of agony with which she pronounced the same name that night at The Terraces. Then springing forward, she clasped both hands tightly over his one, for his left arm was still in a sling. And again he was disappointed, for he had expected a ^ wanner greeting. And the next second his heart ex cused her, for of course she did nof know but that he was still a hnsband. Yes, that is the reason, he thought; and again he consoled himself as best he could. Of course he knew no changes had come to any one but himself. How could they ? "I would never have----;" but she checked herself before the sentence was completed. Understanding what she meant to say, he sighed and said:
mi
"2fo, I am sadly changed;" and sitting down upon a sofa side by side, they fell into a constrained silence; for Clifford's heart was too full for utterance, and Ger trude was trying to force back the tears which dimmed her sight and rendered her speechless.
For more than a year past, neither one knew a single incident in the life of the other, for it must be remem bered that twenty years ago there were no cables, and communication with the Old World was a thing of months instead of days. This long and silent separation, it would seem, ought to have furnished an inexhaustible

Ill
theme for conversation between two old friends; bat the troth, is, neither one had the courage to open the closed book of die past--Gertrude from fear of giving pain --Clifford from fear of seeing his last hope vanish.
So near, and yet--so far! Conld strangers know less of each other? They were like two persons standing before a clairvoyant wishing to have the future revealed to them, yet shrinking from the disclosure.
A hollow eoogh broke upon the stillness, and stealing a second glance at the pale, haggard face and sunken eyes of her unexpected visitor, Gertrude's heart gave a throb of pain, for she knew only too well that he was a victim of that fatal disease which was handed down as a heredi tary curse in his father's family. She mnst be forgiven for her long and embarrassing silence, for the changed and sadden appearance of her friend overwhelmed her
i
so that she could not recover her self-control at once. "When last she tew him, he was in the flash of yoath
and trhnnph, and in the possession of robust health. Now, he was but a wreck of his former self, and so altered by disease and suffering, that had she met him vi&oat hearing him speak, she would not have known
A Batoral delicacy of feeling made her shrink from referring to the change in his appearance, and as they faad no topics of conversation in general, a silence which they eoald not control held them both in its unpleasant bondage. At length Gertrude recovered sufficiently to say:
"When did yon arrive?" "Last night." "Howare they all at home?"
J

EEAD!!!

315

u Don't ask me," he said, with an impatient wave of the hand, as though the subject was a disagreeable one.
Then bending upon her a searchin^ook, he said: "You know nothing of the changes which have* taken place? Yon have heard nothing?" "Nothing!" she answered, while something like a shud der passed over her. " Then read this; 99 and taking from his pocket a letter, he handed it to her, and watched her face while she read the following:

"Mr DBAS CLIFFORD:--Because I have remained silent, do not that I **** ignorant of the feials and sacrifices which you
hare been called upon to endure and make. That Ihavenot chided was for the reason that I loved yon too modi--was because you had my sympathy and not--my censure. That you did not love me was my misfortune and your misery; and believe me, in the hope of yet niftlring yon happy, I willingly yield up the poor little fife which is nothing without your love. That my death may he the means of bringing you all that happiness which I pray may be years, is the one consolation which reconciles me to going away from you. I know I have but a little while to five, and having made the .request of my father, he will give my portion of his property to yon. With this you win be independent, and it is my dying request that yon shall renew your addresses to Gertrude Lawrence, and marry her, if you can. To yon and her I leave our little one, whose name I desue to be 'Gertrude.' Do not disregard my dying wishes, for I trust I have asked nothing which you will find it impossible to grant If it be possible, I shall watch over you and yours, and God grant that you may be happy yet. ^ -
" Your true and loving wife,
TBOUP.

As she read, the color came and went in her cheeks,
1

316

EKAD !!!

the tears filled her eyes, and when she finished, her hands dropped in her lap, and the letter fell upon the floor.
It was a trying honr to both, for the suspense was agony to Clifford, and Gertrude felt that it was not only a trial of he* feelings, but a test, of her honor. It will be re membered that only a short time before she said to her husband, u I can never love as I have loved."
* But that old love was buried, and to resurrect it now ' would be dishonor. Had it already come back, in those few moments of painful silence, to make her faithless to her marriage-vows, and to blast her future with its insidi ous temptations 1 Why did she hesitate ? Do we forget that she is bat human--do we forget that she once loved this man better than her own soul ? The shock was ter rible; for an instant the old life glided before her--for an instant the old love fluttered in her heart--for a moment that little word "if" made a thousand delightful but wicked suggestions; but it was only for a moment, for honor and duty crushed the disloyal feelings in her breast, and recovering slowly from the sudden shock, she said, with trembling voice:
** Did you not know---- I" " What ? " he said, clutching her wrist so tightly as to make it painful, while he searched her face with the breathless anxiety with which a man watches, the lips of the Judge whose sentence is to give him life or death.
"What?" he asked again, as she still hesitated to speak the words which her woman's instinct told her would seal his doom.
"That I was----;" and again the sentence was not fin ished.

BEAD!!!

317

" Was what ? " he again said, almost gasping for breath, and trembling in every limb.
" Married!" she a length said; and a thrill of horror ran through her, as he released his grip npon her arm, turned deadly pale, groaned, and sank back in his seat, for she thought she had killed him.
It was a momentary swoon; -then a shudder, a gasp for breath ; and as if to hide his agony, he covered his face with his hand, and rested his head in the corner of the sofa where he sat.
Then there was a long silence between them, for Ger trude was not more loyal than Clifford was honorable; and neither trusted themselves to speak, lest one un-' guarded word should mar the fealty which they both owed to another. During this painful silence, a short retrospect of his life, with all its beautiful promises, its temptations, its trials, its disappointments passed before Clifford; and now, having seen his last hope vanish like the rest, he sat, crashed and blighted, like some plant over which the fatal sirocco had swept. Then he won dered to himself if he was the same man who had started life, scarce four years before, with such brilliant pros pects; and then his heart hardened towards God, for it is not uncommon for men to expect everything from their Maker, but to give nothing in return. Meanwhile, Gertrude sat struggling with her heart; trampling down the old love, putting back the old life, and asking God fc/ give her strength to do her whole duty in the faying hour then npon her.
Clifford knew he must go, and yet--he could not move; he knew he must say a good-by," but he could not speak; and the two sat silent and miserable. The sun-dial could

318

BEAD!!!

not have marked those moments, for by its record they

would scarcely have numbered half an hour; but by

heart-throbe they were a lifetime--by suffering--an eter

nity.

,

After BO long a time, with the life gone ont of his

heart, the light oat of his eyes, and the stamp of despair,

if not death, upon his brow, Clifford arose, and tottering

as he attempted to stand, extended his hand to Gertrude,

and said:

a Then--I moot go."

Taking his hand, she forced back her tears, and stand*

ing by his side, looked in his eyes and said, with an agi

tated voice:

" Clifford, this life is not all It has been full of disap

pointments for as both. Let as try, though, and see the

hand of God in every trial; and bowing meekly to His

win, so live hereafter as to meet Virginia in heaven."

u Noble woman! by God's help, I wfll! And my litde

" Bbdie," when I am gone, you wfll keep her for me? "

WlK> is "Birdie"!

lCy little Gertrude."

" Yes," between the blinding tears which were falling.

u God bless yon! farewell forever!" and kissing her

brow, he went slowly out into the world, old with grief,

and heart-broken with disappointment The crowd jostled

him on the streets, but he did not notice it; the sun

shone, bat he knew not whether it was day 'or night; the

ragged paupers followed after him and begged alms at

his hands, bat their pitiful petitions did not reach his

ears; and thus he wandered on in a state of abstract

misery, which knew nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing,

until exhaustion drove him to a seat in a park.

BEAD!!!

319

T
Sitting down, he was totally unconscious of what passed around him; for his sensibilities were all stunned--hope was gone--and life was over. The day went by--the sun sank--night came on--and still he sat in that one spot--
forsaken, hopeless, and in despair.

320

AEHTO DOWN THE WALL.

CFATT1 XLIX
BKEAKTSTO DOWN THE WAXI*.
|OR some weeks after the events recorded in the last chapter, there was a restraint npon Pan! and Gertrude which was fast growing into an un
pleasant coolness. The cause of this will be readily appreciated by those who comprehend that there should be no secrets between man and wife." There must be perfect confidence, or there cannot, there will not be, perfect love; for the moment one conceals something from the other, that moment a barrier rises up between them, which first begets coolness--then estrangement--then in difference--and where it is to end--God only knows.
On the day of Clifford's visit, Gerjtrude was naturally and as we have seen, terribly agitated, both during his stay and after he had gone; and none but women, who have so much to conceal, and so much to bear in silence, can appreciate what an effort it "was for her to bathe her eyes, to banish old memories, and to wear a smile that was forced, to meet the loved ones upon their return home. This need not have been the case, but she made the fatal mistake that wrecks the happiness of so many women; and instead of going to her husband and telling

BREAKING DOWN THE WALL.

321

Mm all, she locked her secret in her own breast, and finally aroused his suspicions by what she withheld. In this, she was more to be pitied than blamed, and her igno rance must excuse her for not doing what she perhaps lacked the courage to execute, even granting she had known what course was best to pursue. At dinner, the day of the visit, she was so much affected that her food was imtasted, and both husband and uncle observed that she had been weeping. There was a cold and constrained conversation maintained, very unlike the merry chats they usually engaged in around the board; and~after re peated attempts, Gertrude said, with the best effort at self-control she could command:
" I had a visit from an old friend this morning."
"Who was it?" asked both gentlemen at the same time.
"Guess."
" Count D'Anvergne?" " That pcor Count, uncle, seems to be forever in your thoughts, and I really believe that you are afraid of him now, even though I am married."
" Was it not ke 1" "No."
" I give it up, then." " And you, Paul; whom do you say ? "
" I never was good at guessing, Gertrude. Do tell us; don't keep us in suspense."
" The last person you would dream of," she answered, getting a little bolder; " and so changed, I should never have known him, if I had not heard him speak."
A suspicion instantly flashed across Paul's mind, and

BREAKING DOWN THE. WALL.

laying down his knife and fork, he looked straight at his

wife and said :

" Was it Clifford Tronp f "

With burning cheeks and eyes swimming in tears, she

looked down and said, with quivering lips :

"It was."

" Clifford Troup!" said the uncle, who, looking np Just

then, caught the peculiar expression upon the faces of

niece and nephew, and fearing something unpleasant, he

hurried to add : u Why, you amaze me ! What is he do

ing in this part of the world, and why did you not keep

him to dinner ? "

"He said he must go," she answered with agitation,

for Paul had never taken his eyes from her face, and

each moment his suspicions were becoming more deeply

rooted.

"And you say he is so much altered. What is the

matter?

a Consumption, I judge, from his cough and ap

pearance."

*

" Oh yes, it is hereditary in the family. What a curse !

Paul, we must call and see him. Where is he stopping,

Gertrude f " '

"I really--did not--ask him," was the confused reply.

" And he left no address ? " asked the perplexed uncle.

a What is he doing here f "
a I do not--I did not ask him," wad the blundering reply.
"Where is he going!" * I do not know." .

BBEAKHSTG DOWN THE' WALL.

323

" Did he bring no news from home ?" "I do not know that either, except that his wife is dead--and has left a daughter." At these words, both uncle and husband looked at the speaker; who sat trying to balance a teaspoon upon the edge of a cup, and although neither ever mentioned it to* the other, in their hearts, at that moment, each one fan cied he found the cause of her tears and agitation. The conversation was calculated to leave the uninitiated in some mystery, and it was not strange that Paul should feel anxious, if not unhappy, to be left in doubt as to the object of Clifford's visit, considering the olden intimacy which had existed between himself and Gertrude. Thus matters stood for some weeks, and as nothing more was disclosed, the wall grew formidable every day between husband and wife. "What to do Gertrude did not know, and where the es trangement was to end, she dared not think. At any other time she would have gone to her uncle, but somehow or other, this particular affair seemed a matter of so much delicacy, that she shrank from even speaking to him of it Was that the real reason, or did she fear that he would discover something which she wished to conceal 3 God forbid that any such thoughts should be harbored in her breast; but then we must not forget that she was only human, and a woman with per haps far more feeling than philosophy. Thus matters stood, until one evening Paul lighted a cigar and walked out, and Mr. Hall and Gertrude were left alone. This habit of going out in the evening was growing upon Paul; and it was remarkable, of late, that

324

. BREAKING DOWN THE WALL.

he never gave his wife the parting ^iss, which a few weeks before was bestowed so lovingly and so frequently.
All these things, which Mr. Hall silently observed, rendered him very unhappy, -and he determined to speak to Gertrude on the subject the first opportunity that presented itself. Such an occasion was difficult to find, even though.they lived under the same roof; for the front door would scarcely close upon Paul before she would steal a hurried kiss, and hasten, in a frightened "manner, to her own chamber, there to pass the night in weeping, and in asking herself what was to be done.
The breach grew wider day by day. The husband became more silent and abstracted, and the wife was wretched beyond description. But how could the wall be broken down ?
Alas! that " how" is the rock upon which the bark of so many young married people splits.
One says: " Pm misunderstood;" the other says: "She is not the same to me." Then the little nothings which make us happy are neglected, and what was, at first, a misunderstanding, grows rapidly into coldness, then into indifference, then into estrangement, and if it be not checked, into positive dislike. The morning and evening kffis is not exchanged, the pleasant little courtesies of life are ignored, the drives or walks, if taken at all now, are taken separately, the confidential talks dwindle down to cold monosyllables, the wife retires to weep, while the husband perchance walks the streets in wretchedness, or seeks amusement in some resort of doubtful propriety; and then the devil rejoices, for he has entered a happy home, and. by encouraging a pride which is false in theory and

BREAKING DOWN THE WALL.

325

falser in practice, has laid the foundation of what will become, in time, an insurmountable wall, unless it be speedily broken down.
Oh, wives and husbands, struggle with all the earnest ness of your souls against the first misunderstanding, for, believe us, subsequent ones will come oftener and easier, and it is the first one that you must keep from* your fire
side. Let there be no concealments,7 no secrets^which are not
mutually shared; be all in all to each other; be the world to one another, and do not be satisfied with anything less. This being done there is nothing to fear; this being neg lected there is everything to fear. As we see, there was no real cause for the unhappiness and estrangement which existed between the young husband and wife; and could we take a peep behind the domestic curtain, we would frequently discover the most abject misery springing from sources even lighter than the one here detailed; for at last it all amounted to this, that she failed to tell him what would have made no difference if known, but what gained in importance by being withheld.
We began by saying.Paul had gone out, and as usual, a few moments afterwards Gertrude was giving her uncle the hasty kiss before retiring, when he put both arms around her, and drawing her to his knee in the old-fash ioned way, said:
" Gertrude, what is the matter ?" Leaning her head upon his shoulder, she burst into tears; and that was her only reply. "Foolish children that you are. Why will you/ make yourselves so miserable, when you might be so nappy? Tell me all before it is too late."

396

BEBAX3H& DOWH THE WAU*

Stffl nothing bat tears. "That visit has something to do with it. Tell me what it is, that I may apply the remedy before it is too late." Still no answer, but sobe; and stroking back her beantifnl golden hair, her uncle said again: " Gertrude, will yon tell me ?" Brushing back her tears, she arose, and saying: "In a moment," left Hie room. Returning quickly, she handed him the letter which Clifford had given her to read, and sitting down upon a stool at his feet, buried her face in her hands, and bowed her head upon his knee. With surprise and deep concern, he read it care fully to the end, then raising her head so that he could look into her eyes, he said: " Did he know yon were married, when he gave you this to read?"

u Did he come to offer himself to yon? "

" I suppose so, for he seemed deeply affected when I

told'him I was married."

"Then, what did he say?"

fj

"He said he most go."

Nothing else ? "

"He asked me if I would take care of his little 'Birdie'

when he was--dead."

"Nothing else?"

" He then--kissed me--and went away."

u And is this all that happened daring this visit? "

Then there was a pause in the conversation, and Mr.

BREAKING DOWN THE WALL.

327

Hall sat* leaning on his hand, looking thoughtfully across the room. Gertrude's heart heat anxiously as she watched him, and she absolutely trembled when he looked earnestly at her and said :
" Do you regret being married to Paul Maxwell ? " " No," she answered quickly. "Has the old love for Clifford Troup returned?" " Ko--not as I once loved him; for since the hour that you showed me the sin of it, in your little c sanctuary,' I have struggled against it; and of course, if I had not conquered that love, I should never have married Paul Bat, uncle,'to see him so altered and so heart-broken, affected me deeply; and somehow I could not talk about it either to you or to Paul--for I feared Paul might misunderstand it" " That, my child, is the mistake you made. Go now to your husband, tell him all, do not keep back a single thing tell him you married him because you loved him; tell him that you love him still, and all will be well again. Do not sleep this night until you are reconciled to each other. Go now and await his return, and may God re ward your efforts." Kissing him then "good-night," she retired to her chamber with a lighter heart than she had known for many weeks.





*

The night was far advanced, and still Gertrude sat try ing to read, and still Paul did not come.
Growing restless and nervous, she finally laid the book down, and going to the window, opened it and leant out in the night air.-

It was a lovely night in July, and through the hazy

328

BREAKING DOWN THE WALL.

atmosphere the lamp-lights gleamed like will-o'-the-wisps in a swamp. Looking down upon the heads of the crowd, the young wife said to herself: "What detains him ? He never stayed out so late before;" and then a shudder passed over her as she thought: "What if he never returns!"
Ah ! how many young wives have asked themselves the same agonizing question, when the midnight hour found them watching for the return of the loved one, whom a slight misunderstanding and too much pride had driven into the streets or some worse place to hide his grief. So intent was Gertrude in looking down upon the vast crowd as it went surging beneath her window, that she did not hear her husband's noiseless entrance, nor was she aware of his presence in the room until a deep sigh attracted her attention.
"Paul,'* she said in a startled tone; but he simply looked coldly at her, then turned awayl
Her heart almost misgave her at this harsh treatment; but like the brave woman she was, she determined to do her duty, and leave the result to God,
Taking then, poor Virginia's letter from her pocket, abe stood before her husband, who did not even look at her, and said:
"Paul, I have done wrong; I have concealed some thing from you. Bead this, and then I will tell you the lest."
Taking the letter, his hand trembled so that he could scarcely read, and watching him, Gertrude feared she had little to hope, judging by the expression of conster nation and anger upon his face. At length he finished

HREAKIKG DOWN THE WAIX.

329

reading it though, an with a gasp crumpled it in his

hand. Then, quick as thought, a strange, wild light

gleamed from his eyes, and springing up, he said:

" Did the scoundrel give you this letter, Jpiowing you

were married ?"

" Oh, no, no, Paul--no," answered the wife, with fear

and trembling.

" I suppose you told him you regretted you were mar

ried to another ?"

.

" Oh, Paul, how can you do me such injustice ?" and

bursting into tears, she sank down in despair, while her

husband talked back and forth the room like a madman,

for in that moment he believed all happiness was over for

tfiem both. As soon as she could control herself, Ger

trude got uy and joining her husband, slipped her hand

in his aria, and said:

" Paulj I married you because I loved you, and--"

" And do you love me now ?" he said quickly, as if his

very life depended upon her answer. "Yes."

" And no one else ? " " And no one else." The next instant she was folded to his heart in an eager embrace, such as we give a loved one from whom we have been separated. Then kissing her, he said: " Will you forgive me, darling ri " " Rather should I say, will yon forgive me ? " pleaded the wife between smiles and tears. "With all my heart," was the eager response, as he again pressed her to his heart " And henceforth we will have no more concealments;"

330

BRKAKnf6 DOWN THE WALL.

and her wdjrds were sealed with a kite. The rest of the in cidents were told as she sat upon his knee, with his arms folded lovingly around her, and together they wept over file sad fate of Clifford Troup, together they talked of " Birdie," together they knelt and asked of God forgive ness for the-past and guidance for the future, and thus the wall was broken down.

THE SHADOWS THICKEN.
CHAPTER L.
THE SHADOWS THICKER.
|TING in a foreign land, and in the midst of strangers. Dying--with no mother--no sister-- no wife--no friend near, to wipe the cold, damp
death-dew from his brow--with no one to soothe--no one to comfort--no one to console--no one to cheer--as he passed down the dark Valley of the Shadow of Death.
But he was not afraid to die, for he felt that he was at peace with man and God, and his only regret in going was the thonght of leaving " Birdie " behind.
He scarcely regretted the past now, and painful as the retrospect was, he at last understood that if all hi? wishes had been realized, his heart would have been wrapped up in the things of this world alone, and he would not then be ready to meet his Maker; and so he was reconciled to the will of God.
At Paris, he submitted to a painful operation upon his arm, which in his already exhausted condition held him a prisoner in that gay metropolis until the first cold winds of autumn, and his physician's advice sent him to Nice.
"Why go to Nice?" he said. "It will only be fora little while; "and he was right, for now, he was dying. And often, when Clifford fancied himself forgotten by all the world, away across the deep blue ocean--away down

332

THE SHADOWS THICKER.

in the Sonny South, his poor heart-broken mother knelt,

and interceding with the good God, prayed that her tem

pest-tossed boy might find rest in His mansions at last--

rest and peace after the storms of this life were ended.

Storms for which he was scareely^responsible, bnt throngli

.which he must pass in order to fulfil the law; for has not

Jehovah said that " the iniquities of the fathers shall he

visited upon, the children to the third and fourth genera tion*"

Bat who remembers this, or what man stops to consider

that his own flesh and blood must suffer for his evil do

ings?

u Jake," his colored valet, and u Mammy " and " Bir

die," were with him; bat to none of these could Clifford

show the drape of blood, as they oozed slowly bat sorely

out of his heart. To none of them could he show the

crown of thorns which pierced his weary, aching brow;

and so what little of love and what little of life he had

left to give were lavished upon " Birdie." She was his

now; and to her his heart gave all its tenderness and

its devotion, until he feared he was making her an

idol.

Singularly enough, she retained this love with an ardor

that was rare in a child, and oftentimes, when Mammy

would start with her for a walk or drive, her bine eyes

would nil with tears at parting from her father, and she

would cry so, that he would have her brought back, say

ing:

.-

a There win be plenty of time, Mammy, when I am

gone. Let me have her while I am here."

"Certainly, Man Clifford, certainly," Mammy would

THE SHADOWS THICKEN'.

333

say, and putting his little pet on the bed beside "him, would turn away to hide her falling tears.
Thus the winter dragged wearily and painfully away, and the trying winds of March taxed all Clifford's strength and the skill of his physician to keep life in him. Blankets were stretched across the windows, fires were kept steadily burning, ancf^by a thermometer th& rooms were kept at summer heat. But all this made no difference, and Clifford, knowing that the end was near, gave final directions to his faithful and devoted attend ants. - To Jake he gave two letters, saying:
" When I am dead, Jake, I wish you to take me back to America, to be buried in the old family burying-ground at the ' Manor.' Upon your arrival at M----, you will give this letter to my mother. You must go by London, and leave Mammy and ' Birdie' with--Mrs. Maxwell, whom you will find at Mr. Hall's, the American Ambas sador's, and to whom you will give this letter. Mam my, you and 'Birdie' will live with Mrs. Maxwell, and I want you to promise me never to leave my little darling while you live. Do you promise ? "
"Yes, Mars Clifford; and may de Lord strike me dead if ever I forfita my word!" and the old soul wept as if her heart would break. ' u And you both promise to do exactly as I have told you?"
" Most 'suredly, sir," answered Jake, Tpith rather an offended ay- at being asked such an unnecessary ques tion.
" Then I can die satisfied;" and closing his eyes, he turned over and laid in a kind of stupor all day, but in

THE SHADOWS THICKEN.

reality he was engaged in silent prayer, and was trying

to keep the promise made to both Virginia and Ger

trude.

During the night he rallied a little, and in the morn

ing, while "Jake" and "Mammy" had stepped out of

the room for a moment, he breathed his last with " Bir

die " clasped in his arms.

A smile lingered round his lips, and when " Mammy "

returned, she thought he was only teasing " Birdie" by

pretending to be asleep, as this little elf slapped him in

the face, polled his hair, and called him "Eader, Fader."

Soon, however, the troth flashed upon " Mammy," and

snatching the child from the arms of her dead father, she

flew for the doctor. He came hurriedly, but his skill was

of no avail, for his patient was beyond the reach of

human power; and let us hope he found peace and rest

attest!

Thus, while the son expiated by suffering and death

the iniquities of his father, that poor father was cursed

with the treble boon of life, poverty, and dissipation;

and already the large sum which Clifford had set aside

for him when he went abroad had been swallowed up in

the most sickening debauches.

And as the crushed, blighted, and heart-broken mother

listened to the impious ravings of her husband, she shud

dered lest the anger of God should descend upon their

heads and consume them body and souL But had he

not set up other gods ? had he not fallen down and wor

shipped other idols ?

'

^ Had he not taught his son that noblesse Mige was syn

onymous with "honor thy father and mother, that thy

TUB 8HABOW8 THICKEN.

335

days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveththee?"
Is there such a thing as retributive justice ? Let him who doubts it look into the hearts of his fellow-men, and see if happiness is the result of iniqui tous dealings. Let him look at the life of this man, which was now but a living hell; and yet there was no absolute crime in it No; it was bat the result of human frailty leaning upon its own slight ann for support--the inevitable con sequence of moral weakness, which craved a whited sep ulchre for men to gaze at, while the all-seeing Eye alone saw the worms enfolded within. Thus Life pursued this ; frail man with a relentless remorse that made him cower before its accusations, and made him plead for Death as though there would be relief beyond the tomb. Only think! he cared not for eternal damnation, because then he would be free from the sneers of his fellow-men.

336
CHAPTER LL
it be possible for me to do my duty, with this reminder ever before me?" asked Gertrude of herself, as she sat feeling " Birdie " to sleep one evening; for the wee traveller and a Mammy" were now regularly installed as inmates of Mr. Hall's household; and, strange to say, the little double orphan just walked right into the hearts of the entire family, never having been shy or afraid of them for even a moment From some fancied resemblance, or some other cause-- for who knows what is in the minds of children-- u Birdie " called Paul u fader " from the very beginning, and would cry for him so when he left the house, that he frequently took her with him. This pleased him won derfully; and Gertrude, fancying she saw the hand of Providence in it all, said to herself, " The little darling most have been sent to test my strength, and I will pray to God to help me do my duty." And so the days went by, and Mr. Hall was now the proudest "grandpa" in all England, for so he insisted upon calling himself; and it was many, many years before " Birdie" knew that the little Eeuben Hall Max-

well, whom "Mammy" now took charge of, was not her own brother.
^Nothing pleased her so much as to stand by bis crib and rock him, "by-a-baby;" and when they went ont walking, she was proud as any queen if allowed to push the carriage ever so short a distance.
The resemblance to her father was so.striking, that at
times Gertrude would be startled, and the tears would
spring to her eyes as she watched her at play. But they came not from disloyalty to her husband,
whom she loved with an increasing love each day, but from regret at the sad fate of the young parents, who
were the victims of pride and selfishness. That they died of broken hearts she did not doubt; and that such a disease prevails, we, who dive down deep into human breasts, and there see the inner workings, with society masks left off, do believe.
TJien let us be gentle one With another, both bearing and forbearing; for we do not know how often our brothers are ready to sink by the wayside with the heavy burden of life, and only think how one little kind word will cheer that drooping, fainting form.
And, in conclusion, we desire to repeat to our yonng men what the Delphic Oracle said to Cicero, when lie inquired by what means he might rise to the greatest glory.
The priestess bade him "follow nature, and not take the opinion of the multitude for the guide of his life."
By nature we mean conscience enlightened by re ligion ; for whoever tramples upon the nobler instincts which have been given him--whoever defies God and his
15

tew*---will find, when it is too late, that neither worldly preferment, wealth, nor glory will be able to satisfy the yearn ings of a heart whose highest impulses have been crushed and made to subserve the basest motives.
L

yiure is a kind of physiognomy in the tf books no less than in the faces of by which a skilful observer wiU know as well what to
p*tt from the one as tkc

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THB DEBATABLE LAND.--By Robert Dale Owca. 12ma

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Author of Rntiedge.

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PRISON LIFE OF JEFFERSON DAvis,--By J. J. Craven.

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BY

DTT ^^dSaV \J^lf^3^&CF+

of Halm-Halm. .

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....

M A prophecy. .....

, An American novel. ...