A NEW BOOK, UNIFORM: WITH THIS VOLTJICB, AND BY THE SAME AUTHOR. HEART HUNGRY. BY THE AUTHO OP "CLIFFORD TKOUP." S * . . . . 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." " Anut 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 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 *_ 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 whvk 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 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, 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 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 :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 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 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 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" 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* 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*, 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 Hamt, 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, 268 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. 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 NEW BOOKS Recently Published by Q W. CARLETON & CO., New York, Madison Square, Fifth Avenue and Broadway. N.B.--TUB PCBLISHKRS, upon receipt of the price in advance, wCB by of the following Books by mail, POSTAGK FRKB, to any part of th Unltai Itatea This convenient and very safe mode may be adopted when the beightar IDS Booksellers are not supplied with the desired work. Marion Harland. ALONE.-- . . A novel. . 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