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DIKF. UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

ESTABLISH ED BY THE

FAMILY OF

rOl.ONKI. Kl.OWl.RS

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tlio acticin

ACARIA; •

OR,

ALTARS OF SACRIFICE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " BEULAH."

" Wo bn70 al'i to bo iaii upon an altar; we hayo all, &s it were, to bo ju..j-ictc-l to tho a?ti;>B

of fire." — Meltit.l.

RICHMONI) ':

WEST & JOHNSTON, Ur, MAIN STKHET.

1864.

UTARS & CoORWELL, PRIXTBBS, COLCMDIA, S. C.

#2 5a>

TO TUE

ARMY OF THE SOUTEERN CONFEDERACY,

:0 i:.\VK DKLIA'EUED TUK SoUTII FJJOM DESl'OTISM, AND WHO HAVK WON' I'OR CrFN-VRATIOXS YKT UNBORN TUK TKECIOUS GUKIJOOX OK CONSTITUTIONAT. Rk PUBLICAN LiBEKTV:

TO THIS VAST LlilCMOJN OF HONOR,

AVHKTHKR LIMIMNG ON CRUTCHKS THROUGH

THE LAND THEY HAVE SAVED AND IMMORTALIZED,

OR SURVIVING UNINJURED TO SHARE THE BLESSINGS THEIR

v;NirXAMPLED HEltOISM BOUGHT, OU SLEEPING DREAMLESs?LY IN XAMI.I.KSa

MART V:;-(;n AYES on HALLOAYED BATTLE-FIELDS AVUOSK •

HISTORIC MEMORY SHALL rEKISlI ONLY WITH THE UE'MNANTS OK OUR LANGUAGE, THESE PAGES ARIC

(i ;ATEFUi.LY AND REVERENTLY DEDICATED

• BY ONE WHO, ALTHOUGH DEBARKED FROM THE

fiANOEUS AND DEATHLESS GLORY OF THE "TENTED IMEI,D,"

WOULD FAIN OFFER A WOMAN'S INADEQUATE TRIBUTE TO TIIK NORI.IC

PATRIOTISM AND SUBLIME SELF-ABNEGATION OF III'.R

DEAR AND DEVOtED COUNTRYMEN.

ERRAT'A.

Page 7, first column, Ijxst Hue— rFor ''knew" read '• hnon-." Page 12, first column, fourth lino — For "queen" read "queer." Fagc 29, first column, thirty-second line — For " back " read "brink." Page ."7, first column, forty-fifth lino — For " Jlivbarda" rc.a<l " Kabarda." Pr>gc 4S, first column, fifty-cigbtli line — For "pomps" road "pomp." P.igo 52, second column, nineteenth line — For "having premonition "

i-ead " having given premonition." Page 54, second column, fourth line from bottom — For " Jolo" rc.-d " lole." Page 55, t;cco!jd column, thirty-third lino — For "willingly " read " wittingly.' P.%ge 57, first cohimn, fifteenth line — For " cniMque" read " cujutqite." Page 73, second column, third line — For "prizes" read " friezes." P;ige 80, first column, fifty-fourth line — For " aleyon " rcjd "Alcyone." T;»ge 95, ?.rst column, thirty-sixth lino — For " llhdian " read " llholian."' Piige 111, second column, forty-eighth lino— For "drippling" read " if rip ping

M A C A R I A.

CHAPTER I.

Tlie. toM-n-clock was on tlic last stroke of twelve, the solitary candle measured but two inches from its socket, and, as the summer wind rushed through the half-closed shutters, the melted tallow dripped slowly into ^e brightly-burnished brazen candlestick. The flickering light fell upon grim battalions of figures marshalled on the long, blue -lined pages of a ledger, and flashed fitfully on the face of the accountant, as he bent over his work. In these latter days uf physical degen- eration, ftich athletic frames as his are rarely seen among the youth of our land. Sixteen years growth had given liim unusual height and remarkable breadth of chest, and it was diflicult to realize that the, stature of manhood had been attained by a mere boy in years. A gray suit (evidently home rna<le), of rather coarse texture, bespoke jioverty ; and, owing to the oppressive heat of the atmosphere, the coat was thrown partially off. He wore no vest, and the loosely -tied black ribboh suf- fered the snowy white, collar to fall away from the throat and expose its well-turned outline. The head Avas large, but faultlessly proportioned, and the thick black hair, cut short and clinging to the temples, added to its massiveness. The lofty forehead, white and smooth, the somewhat heavy brows matching the hue of the hair, tlip straight, finely-formed nose with its delicate but clearly-defined nos- tril, and fell, firm lips unshaded by mustache, combined to render the face one of uncommon beauty. Yet, as he sat absorbed by his fig- ures, there was nothing pVepossessing or win- ning in his appearance, for though you could not carp at the moulding of his features, you luvoluntarily shrank from the prematurely grave, nay, austere expression which seemed habitual to them. He looked just what he was, youthful in months and years, but old in trials, sorrows, and labors, and to one who anilvze 1 bis countenance, the conviction was inevitable that his will was gigantic, his am- bition unbounded, his intellect wonderfully acute and powerful. It is always sad to re- mark in young faces the absence of that beaming enthusiasm which oidy a joyous heart imparts, and thougii in ' this instance there was nothing dark or sinister, you couW not fail to be awed by the cold, dauntless res-

olution which said so plainly: "I struggle, and shall' conquer. I shall mount, though the world defy mo." Although he had labored sinc^ daAvn, there was no drooping of the muscular frame, no symptom of fatigue, save in the absolute colorlessness of his face. Pirm a,s some brazen monument on its pedestal, he sat aud worked on, one hand wielding the pen, the other holding down the leaves which fluttered, now and then, as the breeze passed over them.

" Russell, do you know it is midnight?" He fro^^ned, and answered without looking

" Yes."

*' How much longer will yoii sit up ?"

" Till I finish my work."

The speaker" stood on the thresliold, leaning against the door-facing, and, after waiting a few moments, softly crossed the roorfi and pat her hand on the back of his chair. She -was two years his junior, and though evidently the victim of recent and severe illness, even in her feebleness she was singularly like hiin. Her presence seemed to annoy him, for he turned round, and said hastily : " Elcctra, go to bed. I told you good -night three hoiin

ago-"

She stood still, but silent.

" What do you want ?" " Nothing."

He wrote on for some ten minutes longer, then closed the ledger and put it aside. The candle had burned low ; h^ took a fresh one from the drawer of the table, and, after light- ing it, drew a Latin dictionary near to hun, opened a worn copy of Horace, and began to study. Quiet as his own shadow stood the fragile girl behind his chair, but as she watch- ed him a heavy sigh escaped her. Once more he looked up, with a finger still in the diction- ary, and asked impatiently:

" Why on earth don't you go to sleep?" , " I can't .sleep ; I have tried my Iwst." "Arc you si'K again, my poor* little cousin?" He stretched out his arm, and drew her (^oae to him.

" No ; but I know you arc up, hard at work, and it keeps me awake. If you would only let me help you."

" But you can't help me; I have told yon so time and again, lou only interrupt aad hinder me."

MACARIA.

She colored, and bit her lip; then answered •orrowfully :

" If I thought I ahould be •vreak and sickly all my life, 1 would rather die at once, and burdfn you and auntie no Innfier."

"Electra, who- told you that you burdened me ?"

" Oh, Russell ! don't I know how hard you have to work ; and how diflirult it is for you to got even bread and clotho.";. Don't I sec how auntie labors day r.flor day, and month after month ? You are pood and kind, but does that prevent my foelin<; the truth, that vo" fire workinjT for mc too ? If I could only help you in .<»omc way." She kn«'U down by his chair and leaned her head nn his kneo, holding his hands between botli hers.

" Eleitra, you do help mc ; all day long when I am at the store your face haunts me, strengthens me; I feel that I am striving to give you comforts, and when at night you meet mc at the gate, I am repaid for all I have done. You must put this idea out of your head, little one ; it is altogether a mistake. Do you hear what I say? Get up, and go to ilc^p like a good child, or you will have an- other \vrct<hed headache to-morrow, and ran't bring me my lunch."

He lifted her from the floor, and kissed her hastily. She raised her arms as if to w^nd them about his neck, but his grave face gave her no encouragement, and turning away she retired to her room, with hot tears rolling over-l her cheeks. Russell had scarcely read half a dozen lines after his cousin's departure when a soft hand swept back the locks of hair on his forehead, and wiped away the heavy <lrop8 tJiat moistened them.

"My son, you promised me you would not iit up late tonight."

"Well, mother, I have almost finished. Re- member the nights are very short now, and twelve o'clock comes early."

"The better rea«>n that you should not be up ho fate. My son, I am afraid you will ruin jour health by this unremitting application."

" Why — look at me. I am as strong as an athlete of old." He shook his limVw and smiled, proud of hi.-i great physical strength.

"True, Russell, but, robust as you are, you can not stand such toil without detriment Put up jour books."

"Not yet; I have more laid out, and you know I invariably finish all I set apart to do. But, mother, your hand is hot; you are not well." He rairied the thin hand, and pressed it to his lips.

"A mere headache, nothing more. Mr. Clark was here to-day; he is very impatient about the rent; I told him we were doing all we could, and thought that by September we should be able to pay the whole. He spoke of going to sea you, which I urged him not to do, as you were exerting yourself to the utmost." She scanned his face while she spoke,

and noted the compression of his mouth. He knew she watched him, and answered with a forced smile: " Y'^e.--, he came to the store this morning. I told him we had been very un- fortunate this year in losing our only servant; and that sickness had torced us to incur more expense than usual. However, I drew fifty dollars, and paid him all I eovdd. True, 1 anticipated my dues, but Mr. Watson gave rae permission. So for the present you need not worry about rent."

" \\'hat is the amount of that erocery bill you would not let me sec last week?"

"^ly dear mother, do not trouble yourself with lliese little matters; the grocery bill will very soon be paid. I have arranged with Mr. Hill to keep his books at night, and therefore you may be easy. Trust all to me. mother; only take cfue of your dear self, and I ask no more."

" Oh, Russell ! my son, my son !"

She had drawn a chair near him. and now laid her head on his "shouMer, while tears dropjx'd on his hand. lie had not seen her so unnerved for years, and as he looked down on her grief- stained, yet resigned face, his countenance underwent a marvellous change; and, folding his arms .'ibout her, he kissed her pale, thin cheek repeatedly.

"Mother, it is not like you to repine in this way; you who have suffered and endured so niueh must not despond, when, alter a long, starless night the day begins to dawn."

"I fear 'it dawns in clouds, and heralds only storms.' For myself I care not, but for you, Russell — my pride, my only hope, my brave boy I it is for you that I sulTer. I have been thinking to-night that this is a doomed place for you, and that if we could only save money enough to go to California, you might take the position vou merit: lor there none woold know of the blight which fell upon you; none could look on your brow and dream it seemed sullied. Here you have such bitter prejudice to combat; such gross Injustice heaped upon you."

lie lifted his mother's head from his bosom and rose, with a haughty, defiant Smile on hia lip.

"Not so; I will stay here, and live down their hate. Mark me, mother, I will, live it down, so surely as I am Russell Aubrey, the

despised son of a Let them taunt and

sneer! let them rake up the smouldering ashes of the miserable past, to fling in my face and blind me ; let them, and welcome ! I will gather up these same ashes, diy and bitter, and hide them with sacred zeal in a golden urn; and I will wreathe it with ehaplcts that never die. Aye! the Thcenix lies now in dust, but one day the name of Aubrey will rise in more than pristine glory; and mine be the hand to resurrect its ancient splendor. ^ Mens cuj tu- que is eat quisqueJ' MenzikofT, who ruled the councils of the Kremlin in its palmiest days,

MACARIA.

once sold pies for a living in the streets of Moscow. ^ Mens cuj usque is est qnisque!' I will owe no man tlianks; none shall point to me and say, 'He was drowning in the black, seething gulf of social prejudice, r.nd I heltl out a finger, and clinging to it he lived.' Not so ! dollar for dollar, service for service, I will pay as I rise. I scorn to ask favors, I am glad none are tendered me. I have a grim satis- faction in knowing that I owe no human being a kindness, save you, my precious mother. Go to California! not I! not I. In this state will I work and conquer; here, right here, I will plant my feet upon the necks of those that now strive to grind me to the dust. I swore it over my father's coffin ! I tell you, mother, I will trample out the stigma, for, tliank God! 'there is no free -trade measure which will ever lower the price of brains.'"

" Husli, Russell, you must subdue your fierce temper; you must! you must! rememlier it was this ungovernable ragc'which brought disgrace upon your young, innocent head. Oh! it grieves me, my son, to see how bitter you nave grown; it wrings my heart to hear you challenge fate, as you so often do. Once you were gentle and forgiving; now scorn and de- fiance rule you." ,

" I am not fierce, I am not in a rage. Lay your hand on my temples — here on my wrist ; count the pulse, slow and steady, mother, as your own. I am not vindictive; ain no Indian to boar about a secret revenge, ready to con- summate it at the first propitious moment. If I should meet the judge and jury who doomed my father to the gallows, I think I would serve them if they needed aid. But I am proud; I inherited my nature; I writhe, yes, mother, writhe under the treatment I constantly re- ceive, r defy fate? Well, suppose I do : she has done her worst. I have no quarrel with her for the past ; but I will conquer her in the future. I am not bitter; would I not give my life for you ? Are you not dearer tq me than my own soul ? Take back your words, they hurt me ; don't tell me that I grieve you, mother."

His voice faltered an instant, and he put his arms tenderly rounfl the drooping form.

•' We have troubles enough, my son, with- out dwelling upon wiiat is past and irremedi- able. So long as you seem cheerful, I am content. I know that Cod will not lay more on me than I can bear ; • as my day, so shall my strength be.* Thy will be done, oh ! my God."

There was a briefpause, and Russell Aubrey passed his hand oiAhis eyes and dashed otF a tear. His mothfl^atched him, and said, cautiously : ^fw

" Have you notic^ that my eyes are rapid- ly growing woree ?"

'* Yes, mother, I hftvi^en anxious for some weeks." ™

" You knew it all, then V"

"Yes, mother."

" I shall not murmur ; I have become re- signed at last ; though for many weeks I have wrestled for strength, for patience. It was so e.xceedingly bitter to know ihat the time drew near when I should see you no more ; to feel that I should stretch out my hands to you, and lean on you, and yet look no longer on the dear face of my ghild, my boy, my all. But my prayers were heard ; the sting has paissed away, and I am resigned. I am glad we have spoken of it; now my mind is calmer, and I can sleep. Good-night, my son."

She pressed the customary good-night kiss on his lips, and left him. He closed the dic- tionary, leaned his elbOw on the table, and rested his head on his hand. His piercing black eyes were fixed gloomily On the floor, and now and then his broad chest heaved as dark and jiainful thoughts crowded up.

]Mrs. Aubrey was the only daughter of wealthy and ambitious parents, who refused to sanction her marriage with the object of her choice ; and threatened to disinherit her if she persisted in her obstinate course. Mr. Aubrey was poor, but honest, hiixhly cultivat- ed, and, in every sense of that much-abused word, a gentleman. His poverty was not to be forgiven, however, and when the daughter left her father's roof, and wedded the maa whom her parents detested, tlie die was cast ; she was banished for ever from a home <^ affluence, and found that she had indeed for- feited her Ibrtune. For this she wa.« prepar- ed, and bore it bravely ; but ere long severer trials came upon her. Unfortunately, her husband's temper was fierce and ungovern- able ; and pecuniary embarrassments rarely have the effect of sweetening such. He re- moved to an inland town, and embarked in mercantile pursuits; but misfortune followed him, and reverses came thick and fast. One miserable day when from early morning every- thing had gone wrong, an importunate cred- | itor, of wealth and great influence in the community, chafed at Mr. Aubrey's tardiness in repaying some trifling sum, proceeded to taunt and insult him most unwisely. Stung to madness, the wretched man resented the insults ; a struggle ensued, and at its close Mr. Aubrey stood over the corpse of the creditor. There was no mode of escape, and the arm of the law consigned him to prison. During the tedious weeks that elapsed before the trial his devoted wife, strove to cheer and encourage him by every effort which one human being can make for another. Russell was about eleven years of age, and, boy though he was, realizeii most fully the horrors of his parent's situation. The days of the trial came at la.'rt; but he had surrendered him.self to the demon Rage, had taken the life of a fellow-creature; what could legal skill accomplish? The afl'air produced great and continued e-xcitement ; the murdered man had been exceedingly pop-

MACARIA.

ular, and the sj-nipatbios of the citizens were I scrupulous honesty, still his nafrow mind and enlisted in iK^haH of liis family. Although penurious habits stranded every generous im- clearly a case of manslaughter only, the vio- pulsi?, and, without being absolutely cruel or lent prejudice of the community and the ex- unprim-ipled, he contrived to gall the boy's ertions of influential frit-nds so hix^sed the I proud sjjirit an<l render his position one of jury that, to the astonishment of the counsel almost pur<j;atorial severity. The machinery on both sides, the cry of '* blood for blood " of human wdl is occult and' complicated ; very w*nt out from that crowded court-room, and in few rigidly analyze their actions and discern defiance of precedent. Mr. Aubrey was un- I the motives that impel them, and if any one justly sentenced to be hung. When the ver- i had told .lacob Wat.son that envy wa.s the

€i>ct was known, llusscll placed his insensible mother on a couch from which it .seemed prob- able she would never rii^e. But there is an RFtonishing amount of endurance in even a feeble "womaii's frame, and after a time she

fieeri't .spring which prompted his unfriendly course toward his young clerk he would prob- ably have indignantly denied the accusation. The blessingof an education had been with- held from him; he grew up illiterate and de-

went about her house once more, doing her ^ void of refinement; lortune favoreil him, he ■duty to her chihl and learning to " .sulVer and ] amassed wealth, and determined that hia ehil- •nrow strong." Fate had ordained, however, ! dren .should enjoy every advantage which that Russell's father should not die upon the ] money could command. His eldest son was

gallows ; and soon after the verdict was pro nonneed, when all Mr.s. Aubrey '.s eflbrts to procure a pnrdon had proved unavailing, the

just KusseU's age, had been sent to various sclionld from his infancy, was imlolent, self-in- dul^rent, and tliorouslilv dissipated. Having

proud and desj)erale man, in the solitude of his j been a second time expelled from school for cell, with no eve b-it Jehovah's to witness the j most disgraceful misdemeanors, he lounged awful deed, tlie consummation of his wtjoj-, ' away his time about the store or pa.-(sed it still took his own life — with the aid of a laiy.-et j more disreputably with reckless companions, launched his guilty soul into eternity. On The daily contrast presented by Cecil and the floor of the cell' was found a Idurred sheet, Russell irritated the lather,, and hence his Kprlnkled with blood, directed to his wife, bid- I settled dislike of the latter. The faithful dis- ding her farewell, and committing her and ! charge of duty on the part of the clerk her boy to the care of an outraged and insult- i allbrded no plausible occasion for invective; ed God. Such was the legacy of shame which I he felt that he was narrowly watched, and Russell inherited; was it any marvel that at resolved to give no ground for fault-finding; fixteen that boy had lived ages of sorrow ? | yet during the long summer iLays, when the Mrs. Aubrey found her husband's financial i intense heat prevented customers from throng- affairs so involved that she relinquished the | ing the store, and there was notliing to be hope of retaining the little .she posses-scfK and ! done, when Russell, knowing that, the books retired to a small cottace on the outskirts of > were written up and the counters free from the town, where she endeavored to support 1 goods, took iiis Latin grammar nm\ inij)rovcd herself and the two dependent on her by tak- ! every leisure half-hour, he was not ignorant ing in .*ewing. Electra Grey was the orphan ' of tlie fact that an angry scowl darkened hif» child of Mr. Aubrey's only sister, who dying in employer's visage, and understood why he poverty betjueathed tiie infant to her brother, was constantly interrupted to perform most He had loved her as well as lii.s own Russell; j unnecessary labors. But in the same propor- and his wife, who cradled her in her arms and tiou that ol)staeles thickened his energy and taught her to walk by clinging to her finger, ' resolution doubled; and herein one Jiuman would almost as soon have p'arted with her I s.nd dilfers from another in strength of will, eon as the little Electra. For five years the I which lurnlshes powers of endurance. What widow had toiled by midnight lamps to feed | the <lay denied iiiin he reclaimed iVoui night, , these two; now oitpress.d nature rebelled, the j and succeeded in uccpiiring a tolerable knowl- long over-taxed eyes refused to perform their | (.-^Ige of Greek, besides reading several Latin oihee; fiiiny catarai:t.s stole over them, veiling j books. Finding that his small salary was their siulness and their unshed tears — blind- j inailefjuate, now that his mother's laillng sight ness was creejjing on. At his father's death, j prevented lier from acconiplisliing the usual Russell was forced to quit school, and with ' amount of sewing, he solici'^^ed and obtained some didiculty he succeed id in obtaining a ^ pennissioa to keep an additional .set of books

situation in a large dry-goods store, wheic his labors were onerous in the extreme, and his wages a mere pittance. To domineer over those whom adverse fortune places under their control is by no means unconnnon among ig- norant and selfisii men, whose industry has acquired independence, and though Russell's employer, Mr. Watson, shrank from eomiiiit- j ment of rent due

ibr the grocer who furnished his family with

provision-*, though by

hours rimained for

protra'.ted illness a

faithful servant, togi

dious sickness, bringin

medical aid, had p;

ting a gross wrong, and prided himself on his I tage, and Russell w» compelled to ask for a

arrangement few ssary sleep. The lath ol' an aged and with Eieelra's te- he c.Ktra expense of ted the prompt pay- three-roomed cot-

MACARIA.

poi'tion of his salary in advance. His mother little dreamed of the struggle which took place in his heart ere he could fon'e himself to make the request, and he carefully con- cealed from her the fact that at the moment ot receiving the money he laid in Mr. Wat- sou's hand by ■way of pawn the only article of any value which he possessed, the watch his father had always worn, and which the coroner took from the vest-pocket of the dead, dabbled with blond. The gold chain had been sold long before, and the son wore it attached to a 1 simple black ribbon. His employer received the watch, locked it in the iron safe, and llusscU fastened a small weight to the ribbon, and kept it around his neck that his mother ' might not suspect the truth. It chanced that ' Cecil stood near at the time ; he saw the watcii deposited in the safe, whistled a tune, fingered tiis own gold repeater, ai'id walked away. Such Avas Russell Aubrey's history; such his situation at the beginning of. his seventeenth year. Have I a reader whose ibnd father lavishes on him princely advan- tages, whose shelves are filled with valuable, but unread volumes, whose pockets are sup-' plied with more than necessary money, and who yet saunters thi-ough the precious season of youth failing utterly to appreciate his privi- leges? Let him look into that little room where Russell sits, pale, wearied, but unbend- ing, pondering hisK dark future, planning to protect his mother from want, and racking his brain tor some feasible method of \procuring such books as he absolutely needs ; books which his eager, hungry eyes linger on as he passes the book-store every morning going to his work. Oh, young reader! if such I have, look at him struggling with adversity as a strong swimmer with the murderous waves tU^t lash him, and, contrasting your oAvn for- tunate position, shake ofi' the inertia that clings to you tenacionsly as Sinbad's burden, and go to work earnestly and bravely, thank- ing God for the aids he has given you.

'• Dis.ippoiiituitnt's dry and bitter ruot. Jbluv> s harsh Ijcrries, and the choking poM Uf iho wurlJ'd sturn, ar» the right inuthcr'-milk 'to tlic IcUgli bi-T-its th:ii pionttr thuir kind."

cnArTi:R ii.

".Irene, your father will bc displeased if he nees you in that plight."

" I'ray, what is wrong about me now ? You seem to glory in finding fautt. What is the matter with my 'pliglit' as you call it?"

"You kn6w vfiffj' well your, father can't boar to see you carrying your own .satchel and basket to school. He onlcred Martha to take them every morning and evening, but she says you will not let her carry them. It is just sheer ob.stinaey in you."

" There it is agaun | because I don't choose

to be petted like a baby or made a wax-doll of, it is set down to obstinacy, as if I had the temper of a heathen. See here, aunt Mar- garet, I am tired of having Martha tramping eternally at my heels as though I were a two year old child. There is no reason in> her walkii\g after nic when I am strong enough to carry my own books, and I don't intend she shall do it any longer."

" But, Irene, your father is too proud to have you trudgilig along the road like any other l^t'ggar, vath your books in one arm and a basket swinging on the other. Just suppose the Carters or the i-f;irrisses ^70u!tl meet you ? Dear me! they would hardly believe you belonged to a wealthy, aristocratic family like the Huntingdons. Clillil, I never carried my own dinner to school in my life." .

"And I expect that is exactly the reason why you arefor ever complaining, and scarcely see one well day in the three hundred and sixty-tive. As to what people think, 1 don't care a cent; as to whether my ancestors did or did not carry their lunch in their own aris- tocratic hands is a mattcn- of no consequence Avhatever. I despise all this ri<liculous non- sense about aristocracy of family, and I mean to do as I please. I thought that really well- bred persons of high standing and birth could afford to be silent on the subject, and that only parvenus, coarse, vulgar people wit!i a little money, put on those kind of airs, and protended to be shocked at what they had been accustomed to in early life."

" I do not see where you get snch plebeian ideas; yoii positively make me ashamed of you sometimes, when fashionable, genteel persons come to the house. There is such a want of refinement in your notions. You are anything but a Huntingdon."

"I am wliat (Jod made me, aunt Margaret. If the Huntingdons stand high, it is because they won distinction by their own eH'orts; I don't want the stepping-stones of my dead an- cestry; people must judge me for myself, not from what my graudmotiier was."

Irene Huntingdon stood op the marble steps ' of, her palatial home, and talked witli the ! maiden aunt who governed her father's house- hold. The <{irl was about fourteen, tall for her age, straight, llnely-formed, ."lender. The broad straw ha^haded, but by ao means con- cealed her feaWVes, anil as she looked up at her aunt the sunshine fell upon a face of «x- ; traordinary beauty, such as is rarely seen, save I in the iil, alized heads of the old masteV.s. Her I hair was of an uncoininon shade, neither au- burn nor brown, but between gold and bronze; and as the sun shone on it the rippling waves fl;u>hed, until. their burnished glory seemed a very aureola. It was thick and curlilig; she ! wore it parted on her pale,, polished forehead, I and it bung around ]ier like a gilded veil. 1 The face was an oval ; you might measure it 1 by all the rules of art {fud no imper(eetion

10

MACARIA.

could bo found, unless the heijht of the brow were (.-onsidered out of proportion. The nose v/as delicate and clearly cut, au'l in outline resenvbled that in the anti(jue niou il? of Olym- pias, the wife of Piiiiip of Mactdoiiia. The upper lip was short, and curved like a bow; the lower, thin, firm, and straijjht. Her eyes were stran<rely, marvellously beautiful; they were larorel- tlian usual, and of that rare shade of purj)Iish blue which borders the white velvet jMitals of a ch'matis. WIren the eyes were uj>- lifted, as on this occasion, lonii, curling iashes of the bronze l;^c of her hair rested against her brow. ' Save rhe scarlet lines which marked her lips, her fa.;e was of that clear colorless- ness which can be likened only to the purest ivory. T!i«ngh there was an utter absence of the rosy hue of health, the transparency of the eomj)lexinn seemed characteristic of her typ?. and precluded all thought of disease. People are powerfully attracted by beauty, eicher of ibrm, color, or acombination of both; and it frequently happens that something of jiain mingles with the sensation of pleasure thus excited. Now, whether it be that this arises from a vague apjirehensjon engendered by the evanescent nature of all sublunary things, or/rom the inability of earthly types to satisfy the divine ideal w||iich the soul en- shrines. I Tshall not here attempt to decide; but tho.'-'c who e.xamined Irene's countenance were fully conscious of this complex emotion ; and strangers v/bo y>assed her in the street felt intuitively that a -noble, unsullied soul looked out at them Irom tUe deep, calm, thoughtful eyes. Miss Margaret muttered somethino; in- audible in reply to her last remark, and Irene walked on to sirhool. Her father's residence was about a mile Irom the town, but the wind- ing road rendered the walk somewhat longer; and on one si<le of this road stood the small house oceupie<l by Mrs. Aubrey. As Irene approached it she saw Electra Grey coming from the opposite direction, and at the cottage gale they met. Both pau.sed; Irene h'jld out her hand cordially —

" Good-morning. I have not seen you for a fortnight. I thought you were coming to school again as soon as you were strong enough ? "

"No; I am not going back to«chool."

"Why?"

"Because auntie can't aflFord to send me any longer. You know her eyes are growing worse every day, and she is not able to take in sewing as she used to do. I am sorry ; but it can't be helped."

'■ How do you know it can't be helped ? Russell told me he thought she had cataracts on her eyes, and they can be removed."

"Perhaps so, if we had the means of con- sulting that celebrated physician in New Or- leans. Money removes a great many things, Irie, but unfortunately we have' n't it."

" The trip would not cost much ; suppose you speak to Russell about it."

"Much or little, it will ^-equire more than we can possibly spare. Everything is so high we can liarely live as it i.s. But I must go in, my aunt is waiting for me."

•• Wliere have you been so early, Electra? I hope you will not think me impertinent in asking such a question."

'• I carried this waiter full of bouquets to Mr. Carter's. There is to be a grand dinner-, party t'.ierc to-day, and auntie promised as many flowers as she could furni.sh. However, bouquets pay poorly. Irie, wait one minute; I have a little border of mignonette all my owu, and I should like to give you a spray."

She hurried into the gaiden, and returning with a few delicate sprigs fastened one in her friend's belt and the remainder in the ribbon on her hat.

"Thaf'k you, Electra; who told you that I love mignonette so well ? It will not do for you to stay away from scTiool; I miss you in my class, and besides, you are losing too much tiu\e. Something should be done, Electra. Good-by."

They shook hands, and Irene walked on. " Something should be done," she repeated, looking down fi.xedly yet vacantly at the sandy road. Soon the brick walls oT the academy ro.-;e grim and uninviting, and taking her place at the desk she applied herself to her books. When school was dismissed in the afternoon, instead of returning home as usual she walked down the principal street, entered Mr. Wat- son's store, and put her books on the counter. It happened that the proprietor stood near the front doov, and he came forward instantly to wait upon her.

"Ah, ML<s Irene! happy to see you. What shall I have the pleasure of showing you?"

" Il;issell Aubrey, if you please." ,

TJie merchant stared, and she added:

'•1 want some kid gauntlets, bat Russell can get them ibr me."

The young clerk stood at the desk in the rear of the store, with his back toward the counter; and Mr. Watson called out:

" Here, Aubrey, some kid gauntlets for this young lad}-."

He laid down his pen, find taking a box of gloves Irom the shelves placed it on the coun- ter beibro her. He had not noticed her par- ticularly, and when .she'puslied back her hat and looked up at him he started slightly.

" Good-evening, Miss Huntingdon. What number do yon wish ?"

Perhaps it was from the heat of the day, or from stooping over his desk, or perhaps it was from .something else, but his cheek was flushed, and gradually it grew pale again.

" Russell, I want to speak to you about Electra. She ought to be at school, you know."

" Yes." • •

" But she says ygnr mother can't afford the expense."

MACARIA.

11

" Just now she can not ; next year things will be better." f

" What is the tuition for her ?" " Five f'oliars a month." " Is that all ■>"

He selected a delicate fawn-colored pair of. gloves and laid them before her, while a faint smile passe/1 oyer his face.

" Russell, has anything happened ?" " What do you mean V" " What is troubling you so?" " Nothing more than usual. Do those gloves suit you ? '

" Yes, they will fit me, I believe." She looked at him ve^-y intentlv.

\li\ met her gaze steadily, and for an instant his liice brightened; then she said, abruptly: " Your motlicr's eyes arc worse ?" " Yes, much worse."

" Have you consulted Dr. Arnold about them V"

" He says he can do nothing for her." " How much would it cost to take her to New Orleans and have that celebrated oculist examine them ?"

"More than we can afford just now; at least two hundred dollars."

'• Oh, Ruisell 1 that is not much. Would not Mr. "Watson lend you that little ?" " 1 shall not ask him." " Not i.'ven to restore your mother's sfght?" " Not to buy my own life. Besides, the ex- periment is a (.loubtful one." " Siill it is worth m.aking." " Yes, under different circumstances it cer- tainly would be."

" Have vou talked to Mr. Campbell about it?"

" No, because it is useless to discuss the matter."

" It woukl be dangerous to go to New Or- leans now, I suppose?"

" October or November would be better." Again she looked at him very earnestly, then stretched out her little hand.

" Ciood-by, Russell ; I wish I could do some- thing to help you, to make you less sorrowful." He held the slight waxen fingers, and his mouth trembled as he answered.

" Thank you, Miss Huntingdon. I am not son-owful, but, my path in life is not quite so flowery as jours."

" I v.'ish you would not call me ' Miss Hun- tingdon,' in tliat stiff, far-off way, as if we were notv friends. Or maybe it is a hint that you desire me to address you as Mr. Aubrey. It sounds strange, unnatural, to say anything but Russell."

She gathered up her books, took the gloves, and went slowly homeward, and Russell re- turned to his desk with a light in his eyes which, for the remainder of the day, nothing could quench. As Irene ascended the long liill on wliich.Mr. Huntingdon's residence stood she saw her father's buggy at the door.

and as she approached the steps he came out, drawing on his gloves.

" Y'6u are late, Irene. What kept you ?" " i have been shopping a little. Are you going to ride ? Take me with you." " Going to dine at iNIr. Carter's." " Wiiy, the sun is almost down now. What time will you come home ? I want to ask you something."

" Not till long after you are asleep." He took his seat in the buggy, and the spirited horse dashed down the avenue. A servant came forward to take her hat and satchel and inform her that her dinner had • waited some time. Miss Margaret sat crotch- eting at tiie front window of tiie dlniiig-roora, and Irene ate her dinner in silence. As she rose and approached her aunt the door swung open and a youth entered, apparently about ' Rus.sell's age, though really one year older.

" Irene, 1 am tired to death waiting for you. What a provoking girl you are. The horstis have been saddled at least one hour and a half. Do get on your riding-dress. I am out of all patience."

He rapped his boot-heavily with his whip by way of emphasis, and looked hurriedly at his watch.

" I did not promise to ride with you this evening, Hugh," answered his cousin, seating herself on the window-sill and runjiing her fingers lightly over the bars of a beautiful cage, where her canary pecked playfully at the fair iiand.

" Oh, nonsense ! Suppose you did n't prom- ise ; I waited for you, and told Grace Harriss and Charlie that we would meet them at the upper beiid of the river, just above the fac-, tory. Charlie's new horse^has just arrived from Vermont — Green Mountain Boy, he calls him — and we have a bet of a half-dozen pairs of gloves that he can't beat my Eclipse. Do come along ! Aunt Margaret, make hei" come."

" I should like to see anybody qiake her do what she is not in the humor for," said his aunt, looking over her glasses at the lithe, graceful figure on the window-sill.

" Hugh, I would rather stay at home, for I am tired, but I will go to oblige you."

Miss ^largaret lilted her eyebrows, and as his cousin left the room Hugh Seymour exclaimed :

" Is n't she the greatest beauty in the United States V"

" She will be a belle when she is grown ; just such a one as your mother was, only she lacks her gayety of disposition. She is full of strange notions, Hugh; you don't know the half of her character — her own father does not. Frequently I am puzzled to understand her myself."

" Oh I she will come out of all that. She is curious about some things now, but she will outgrow it."

12

MACARIA.

"I am afraid she -will not, for it is as much a part of Lcr as the color of her hair or the sha;pe of her nose. She has always been queen."

Irene appeai'wl at the door with a small sihf^r po}-te-moni>aie iu hir hand. Sheeounted the contents, put it into her pocket, and, 'gathering up the Molds of her habi^, led the way to the front door. Hugh adjusted the reins, and laying one hand on his she sprang lightly to her saddle, then stroked her horse's silky mane and said :

•'Erebu^ can leave Green Mountain Boy so far behind that Charlie would find it no easy matter to count the plumes in my hat. Are you ready V"

The beautiful, jetty creature, as if conscious of her praise, tossed his head and sprang oif in a canter, but wheeling round she called to the groom who stood watching them;

" Uuehain Paragon !"

Five minutes later the cousins were gallop- ing on, with a superb greyhound ibllowing clo<e at Erebus' heels, and leaping up now and then in obedience to the motion of Irene's hand. The road ran through a hilly country, now clad iu stern, ancestial pines, and now skirttd with oak and hickory, and about a mile beyond the town it made a sharp angle, and took the river bank. The sun iiad set, but the western sky was still aglow ; aud near the bank, where the current was not per- ceptible, the, changing tints ,of the cfouds v/erc clearly mirrored, but in the middle of the stream a Ici^e of rock impeded lis course, and the water broke over with a dull roar, churniag itself into foam and spray as it dasilied trom shelf to shelf of the etony bar- rier. Just opposite the l<'all, Irene checked her horse, and paus<jd to Udmire the beauty of tiie scene ; but in another moment the • quick tramp of hoofs fell on her ear, and Hugh's young friends joined them. Green Mountaiu Boy was flecked with foam, aud as irene measured his perfections at one hasty glance she jjatted her favorite's head and chaliengjd C'iiarlie for a trial of speed.

^' No, Charlie uud 1 must, have the race. Miss Grace, you and Irene can take care of yourselves for a few minutes. We will wait for you on the edge of town, at the grave- yWd. Now, Cliarhe, I am ready."

They took their places in front, and were Boon out of sight, as the road followed the curves of the river. Erebus plunged vioUmt- ly at first, not being accustomed to lag behind Ki.lipse, but by much persuasion and frequent kind touches on his head, Irene managed to reconcile him to the temporary disgrace.

(iraee looked at his antics rather fearfully, aud observed tliat no amount of money could tempt her to moimt him. " Why not?"

" He will break your neck yet.". I •' He is very spirited, but as gentle as Para-

gon. Come, Grace, it is getting late; they will be waiting for u«. Quicken your sober, meek little brownie."

" So Electra is not coming back to school. It is a great pity she can't have an education."

" Who told you anything about herV"

'• Oh,, everybody knows how poor her aunt is; and now to mend matters she is going blind. I would go to see Electra occasionally if the family had not been so disgraced. I like her, but no genteel person recognizes Mrs. Aubrey, even in the street."

" That is very unjust. She is one of the most refined, elegant women I have ever seen. Slie ought not to be blamed for her husband's mistbrtune. Poverty is lio crime."

If she had been treated to a Hindostanee proverb, Grace could not have looked more stujiidly surprised.

'• Wliy, Irene! Mrs. Aubrey wears a bit- calico to church." •

"Well, suppose she does? Is people's worth to be determined only by the cost or the quality of their clothes? If I were to give your cook a. silk dress exactly' like that one your uncle sent you from Paris, and pro- vide her with shawl and bonnet to match, would she be your equal, do you think? I imagine you w^ould not thank me or anybody else who insinuated that Mrs. Ilan-iss' negro cook was quite as genteel a,nd elegant as Mifs Grace herself, because she wore exactly the same kind of clothes. I tell you, Grace," it iSn' all humbug ! this everlasting talk about fash- ion, and dress, iuid gentility! Pshaw I I am sick of it. When our forefathers were fighting for freedom, for a national existence, I won- der whether their wives measured each other's respectability or gentility by their lace collars or the number of flounces on their dresses?' Grace Harriss, your great-grandmother, and mine, and probably everybody's else, spun the cotton, and wove the cloth, and cut and ma^le their homespun di'esses, and were thankful to get them. And these women who ha,d not even bit-calicoes were the mothers, and wives, and sisters, and daughters of men who estab- lished the most glorious government on the face of the broad earth ! The way the women of America have degenerated is a crying shame. I tell you, I would blush to look my great- grandmother in the face."

Grace shrugged her shoulders in expressive silence, and, soon after, they reached the spot where the boys were waiting to join them.

" Eclipse made good his name !" cried Hugh, tiiunq)!u»ntly, while Charlie bit his Hp with cha<i;nn.

'%ever mind, Charlie, Erebus can distance Eclipse any day."

"N!5t so easily," muttered Hugh.

" I will prove it the next time we ride. Now for a canter as far as Grace's door."

On they went, through the main street of the town: Erebus ahead, Paragon at his heels,

MACARIA.

13

then all the others. The wind blew Irene's veil over her eyes, she endeavored to put it back, and in the eifort dropped her whip. It was ousk ; they were near one of the cross- ings, and a tall well-known form stooped, found the whip, and handed it np. Erebus shied, but the hand touched Irene's as it in- serted the silver handle in the slender finger?.

" 'J'iiank you, Russell, thank you verymueh."

lie bowed fornnlly, drew his straw hat over bis brow, and walked on with two heavy ac- count-books under his arm.

" I can't endure that boy," said Hugh, at the distance of half a square, flourishing his whip eni'.i'gctieally as he sjioke.

" Nor I,'' chimed in Charlie.

" Wliy not ? I have known him along time, and I like him very much."

" He is so confoundedly proud and saintly."

'* That exists entirely in your imagination, ilugh. You don't know half his good qoali- ties," returned Irene, a little quickly.

" Bah I — " began her cousin ; but here their companions bade them good-night, and, as if disinclined to continue the subject, Irene kept in ailvance till they reached home. Tea wAs waiting ; Miss Margaret and Hugh talked of various things ; Irene sat silent, balancing her spoon on the edge of her cup. Finally, tired of listening, she glided to the front door and seated herself on the steps. Paragon followed, and laid down at her feet. Everything was ({uict, save the distant roar of the river as it foamed over its rocky bed ; bolow, hanging on the bank of the stream, lay the tow". From her elevated position she could trace the wind- ing of the streets by the long rows of lamps ; and now and then a faint hum rose on the breeze, as it swept up the hill and lost, itself in tlie forest behind the house. Very soon Hugh came out, cigar in hand, and threw himself down beside her.

" What is the matter, Trie ?"

" Nothing."

" What are you moping here for ?"

" I am not moping at all ; 1 am waiting for ftxther." ^ •

"He will not be here for three hours yet. Don't you know that Mr. Carter's dinners always end in card-parties ? He is famous for whist anjl euchre, and doubtless his din- ners pay him well. What do you want with uncle ?"

" Hugh, do throw away your cigar. It is ridiculous to see a boy of your age pufting a%vay in that style. Betting and smoking seem to be the only things you have learneil at; Yale. By the way, when do you go back ?"

" Are ,you getting tired of me ? I go back in ten days. Irene, do you know that I am not coming home next vacation ? I have promised a party of merry fellows to spend it with them in C:\nada. Theu the next sum- mer I go to Europe, for two years at least. Are you listening '! Do you understand that

it will be four years before I see you again ?"

" Yes, I understand."

" I dare say the time will seem longer to rae than to you."

" I hope when you do come back we shall . not be disappointed in you."

He took ber hand, but she withdrew her fingers.

" Irene, you belong to rae, and you know it." .

" No ! I belong to God and mvselt'."

She rose, and, retreating td the library, opened her books and began to study. Th« night passed very slowly ; she looked at the clock again and again. Finally the house be- came quiet, and at last the cru'sli of wheels ou the gravel-walk announced her father's return. He came into the library for a cigar, and, with- out noticing her, drew his ch<air to the open window. She approached and put her hand on his shoulder. '

" Irene! what is the matter, child?"

" Nothing, sir ; only I want to ask you some- thing."

" VV'ell, Queen, what is it ?"

He drew her tenderly to .his knee, and passed his hand over her floating hair.

Leonard Huntingdon was forty years old;, tall, spare, with an erect and martial carriage. He had been trained at West Point, andper- haps early education contributed somewhat: to the air of unbending haughtiness which many found repulsive. His black hair was slightly sprinkled with gray, and his features were still decidedly handsome, though the expression of mouth and eyes was, ordinarily, by no means winning. He could seem very fascinating, but rarely deigned to be so; and an intimate n«- quaiiitance was not necessary to teach people that he was proiid, obstinate, and thoroughly selfish — loving only Hugh, Irene, and himself. She was his only child; her mother had died during her infancy, and on this beautiful idol he lavished all the tenderness of which hi« nature was capable. His tastes were culti- vated, his house was elegant and complete, and furnished magnificently; every luxury that money could yie'ld him he possessed, yet there were times when he seemed moody and cvnical, and no one could surmise the cause of his aloom. To-night there w;\s no shvlow on hi; face, how^ever; doubtless the sparkle of the I wine-cup still shone in his piercing blue eye, and the girl looked up at him fearing no denial. I " Father^ I wish, please, you would give mc i two hundred dollars." ^

I " What would you do with it, .Queen ?" I " I do not want it for myself; I should like I (o have that much to enable a poor woman to j recover her sight. She has cataracts on her eyes, and there is a physician in New Orleans who can relieve her. Slie is poor, and it v.ill cost about two hundred dollars. Father, won't you give me the money?" ,

He took the cigar from his lipy, shook oil ' the ashes, and asked indillerently :

14

MACARIA.

" What is tlie -nroman's name ? Has she no husband to take cary of her ?"

" Mrs. Aubrey ; she — ."

"Whit!"

The cigar fell from his (injior?, he put her from his knee, and rose instantly. Ilis swarthy cheek slowed, and she wondered at the ex- pression of his eyes, so different from anything shQ had over seen there before.

" Father, do you know her V"

"Whatdo')'ou know of her? What busi- ness is it of yours, whothcr she croes blind, or not? Is it possible Margaret allows you to visit at that house ? Answer mc ; what do you know about her ?"

" I know that she ie a very gentle, unfor- tunate woman ; that she has many bitter 1/ials; that she works hard to support her family; that she is noble and — ."

" Who gave you permission to visit that house ?"

" Xo permission was necessary. I go there because I love her and Ele(!tra, and because I like Russell. Why should n't I go there, sir V Is poverty disgrace V"

" Irene, mark me. You are to visit; that house no more in future ; keep away from the whole family. I will have no such associa- tion. \ Never let me hear their names again. Grt) to bed."

" Give me one good reason, and I will obey you."

" Reason ! ]\Iy will, my command, is suffi- cient reason. What do you mean by eate- chising mc. in this way ? Implicit obedience is your duty."

Thecalm hoi}' eyes looked wonderingly into his : and as he marked the startled expression of the girl's pure face his own eyes drooped.

" Father, has Mrs. Aubrey ever injured you ?"

No answer.

" If she has not, you are very unjust to her; if she hjus, remember she is a Tvoman, bowed down with many sorrows, and it is un- manly to hoard up old diiferences. Father, please give mo that money.'

" J will bury my last dollar in the Red sea first ! Now are you answered V"

• She put her hand over her eyes, as if to sliut out some painful visioir; and he saw th.j slight form shudder. In perfect silence she took her l)ooks and went up to her room. Mr. Iluutingilon reseated himself as the door closed behind her, and the lamplight showed a sinister smile writhing over his dark features. In the busy hours of day, in the rush and din of active life, men can drown remorseful whispers, and shut their eyes to the panorama which memory strives to place before them ; but there come still hours, solemn and inexo- rable, when struggles are useless, and the phantom-recollections of early years crowd up like bannel-ed armies. He sat there, staring out into the starry night, and seeing

by the shimmer of the setting moon only the graceful form and lovely face of Amy' Au- brey, as she had appeared to him in other days. CouM he forget the hour when she wrenched her cold fingers from his clasp, and, in defiance of her father's wishes, vowed she would never be his wife ? No ; revenue waa sweet, very sweet ; his heart had swelled with ( xultation when the verdict of death upon the gallows wa»pronounced upon the husband of her choice ; and now, her poverty, her humiliation, her blindness gave him deep, uu- utterable joy. The history of the past was a sealed volume to his daughter, but she was now for the first time conscious that her father regarded the widow and her son with unconquerable hatred ; and with strange, fore- boding dread she looked into the future, Icuow- iiig that forgiveness was no part of his nature ; that insult or injury was never forgotten.

CHAPTER III.

Whether the general rule of implicit obe- dience to parental injunction admitted of no exceptions, was a problem which Irene read- ily solved ; and on Saturday, as soon as her father and cousin had started to the plantation (twenty-five miles distant), she put on her hat, and walked to town. Wholly absorbed in philanthropic schemes, she hurried along t^io sidewalk, ran up a flight of steps, and knocked at a door, on which was written in large gilt letters " Dr. Arnold."

". Ah, Beauty ! come In. Sit down, and tell me what brought you to town .^o early."

He was probably a man of fifty ; gruff in appearance, and unmistakably a bachelor. Ills thick hair was grizzled, ^so was the heavy beard ; and shaggy gray eyebrows slowly un- bent, as he took !iis visitor's little hands and looked kindly down into her grave face. From her infancy lie had petted and fondled her, and she stood as little in awe of him as of Paragon.

" Doctor, are you busy this morning?"

" I am never too busy to attend to you, little one. "WHiat is it ?"

" Of course you know that IMrs. Aubrey is almost blind."

" Of course I do, having been her phy- bitian."'

" Those c^vtaraets can be removed, how- ever."

" Perhaps they can, and perhaps they can't.''

" But the probabilities are that a good ocu- list can relieve her."

" I rather think so."

" Two hundred dollars would defray all the expenses of a trip to New Orleans for this purjiose, but she is too poor to afford it."

" Decidedly too poor."

Ills gray eyes twinkled promisingly, but ho would not anticipate her.

MACARIA.

15

"Dr. Arnold, don't you think you could spare tliat small sum without much incon- venience ?"

" Really ! is that what you trudged into town for ?"

"Yes, just that, and nothing else. If I had had the money I should not have applied to you."

" Pshaw ! your father could buy me a dozen times."

" At any rate, I have not the necessary amount at my disposal just now, and I came to aslf you to lend it to me."

" For how long, Beauty ?" •

" Till I am of age — perhaps not so long, I will pay you the interest.-'

"You will climb Pojjocatapell, won*t you ? Hush, child."

He went into the adjoining room, but soon returned, and resumed his seat on the sofa by her side.

"Irene, did you first apply to your father? I don't relish the idea of being a dernier ressart."

" What diflerence can it make to you whether I did or did not ? That I come to you at all is sufficient proof of m3' faith in your generosity."

Iliram Arnold was an acute and practised physiognomist, but the pale, quiet face per- plexed him.

" Do you want the money now V

" Yes, if you please ; but befoi-e you give it to me I ought to tell you that 1 want the ma*tter kept secret. No one is to know any- thing about it — not even my father."

" Irene,, is it right to inveigle vxft' into schehies with which you are ashamed to have your own father acquainted ?"

''You know the whole truth, therefore you are not inveigled; and moreover. Doctor, I am not ashamed of anj thing I do. '

She looked so unembarrassed that for a moment he felt puzzled.

" I knew Mrs. Aubrey before her mari'iage." lie bent forward to watch the effect of his wwds, but if she really knew or suspected {'.uglit of the past, there was not the slightest intimation of it. Putting back her hail", she looked up and answered :

" That should increase your willingness to aid her in htr misfortunes."

" Hold out your hand ; fifty, one hundred, a hundred and fifty, two hundred. There, will that do 'i"

" Thank you 1 thank you. You will not need it soon, I hope?"

" Not until you are ready to pay me."

" Dr. Arnold, you have given me a great dca! of pleasure — more than 1 can express. I — ."

" Don't try to exjjress it, Q;ieen. You have given me infinitely more, I assure you."

Her splendid eyes were liAed toward him, and with some sudden impulse she touehed her lips to the hand he had placed on her

shoulder. Something like a tremor crossed the doctor's habitually stern mouth as he looked at the marvellous beauty of the girl's countenance, and he kissed her slender fin- gers as reverently as though he touched some- thing consecrated.

" Irene, shall I take you home in my buggy?"

" No, thank you, I would rather walk. Oh! Doctor, I am so much obliged to you."

She drew her hat over her face, and went down the steps. Dr. Arnold walked slowly across the office -floor with his hands behind him ; the grim face was placid now, the dark furrows on his brow were not half so deep, and as he paused and closed a ponderous volume lying on the table, a smile suddenly fiiited over his features, as one sees a sun- beam struggle through rifts in low rain-clouds. He jiut the book in the case, and locked the glass door. The " Augustinian Theory of Evil " - was contained in the volume, which seemed by no means to have satisfied him.

" All a maie worse than that of Crete ! I will follow that girl; she shall be my Ariadne in this Egyptian darkness. Pshaw ! if His Highness of Hippo were right, what would become of the world ? All social organiza- tions are based (and. firmly too) on man's faith in man ; establish the universal de- pravity, devilishness of the human race, aftd lo ! what supports tlic mighty social fabric ? Machiavelism ? If tliat queer little untrained freethinker, Irene, is not pure and sinless, I then there are neither seraphim nor cheru- j bim in higb Heaven J Cyrus, brln^ out my buggy."

In answer to Irene's knock, Electra opened

I the cottage -door and ushered her into the

j small room which served as both kitchen and

dining-room. Everything was scrupulously

, neat, not a spot on the bare polished lloor, not

a speck to dim the purity of the snowy

dimity curtains, and on the table in tiie

I centre stood a vase filled with fresh fragrant

■flowers. \n a low chair before the open

I window sat the widow, netting a blue and

I white nubia. She glanced round aa Irene

entered.

'• Who is it, Electra ?" " Miss Irene, aunt."

" Sit down, Miss Irene ; how are' you to- day ?■'

■ She spoke rapidly, and for a moment

; seemed confused, then resumed lier work.

Irene watched her pale, delicate fingers, and

1 the long auburn lashes drooping over the

colorless cheeks, and, when she looked up for

I an instant, the visitor saw that the mild, meek

' brown eyes were sadly blurred. Jf ever resig-

I nation enthroned itself on a woman's brow,

one might have bowed before Amy Aubrey's

I sweet, placid, subdued face. No Daniel was

[ needed to interpret the lices which sorrow

bad printed around her patient, tremulous

! mouth.

10

MACARIA.

«' Klictra, come to school l^Ionday. The

enclosed will pay your tuition for two moiitlis

your kind pympatby.' My .longer. Pluase 'don't hesitate to accept it, if

*you really love

' Your friend

Ikexk."

" Jlrs. AuLrcy, I am sorry to hear you eyes are no better."

'• 1 iiank you for } sipht irrows more dim every day."

" I f>liould think n«;t(ing would be "injurious td you now."

" It h purely mechanical ; I use my eyes very little. Kledra arranges the colors for mc, and I find it easy work."

Irene knelt down before her, and, folding j stole up from the mouUlcring, dusty crypts of one of the hands in both hers, said eagerly: by-cone years; and jtutting the note in lier

" You sliau't sufler much longer; these veils , porket, Kiettra leaned her head against the sh.all be taken cfl'. Here is the money to window and tlianked God for the gift of a enable you to go to New Orleans and consult true friend. Tliinking of the group she had that phxsician. As soon as the weather turns just left, Irene approached the gate and saw cooh-r you must start." I that Ilussell stood holding it open for her to

" Mi.-^s Irene, I can not tax your generosity : pass. Looking up she stopped, for the ex-

Mrs. Aubrey sat with her face in her hands, listening to the mournful, solemn voice tliai

pres.>^!on ol" his fa.e friglitencd and pained her. •' KiK"».sclI, what is the matti'r V oh ! tell me." A scornful, defiant smile distortwd his blood- less lips, but he made no answer. IShe took his hand ; it was cold, and the lingers were

so heavily ; I have no cl^im on your goodness. Indeed I—."

" Please don't refuse the money ! You will distix-ss me very much if you do. Why should you hesitate V if it makes me happy and bene- fits you, why will you decline it V Do you clenched* think if my eyes were in the condition ofj " Musscll, are you ill?" yours that J would not thank you to relieve^! She shuddered at the glare in his black me V" ' *l eves.

The widow had risen hastily, and covered her lace with her hands, while an unwonted flush dyed her cheeks. She irembled, and L-ene saw teare stealing throuiih the fingers

"Mrs. Aubrey, don't you think it is your duly to recover your sight if possible :" Yeji, if I could command the means.'

" I am not ill."

."Won't you tell your friend what ails you ?"

" I have no friend but my mothei"."

" Oh, Russell, Russell !"

Her head drooped, and tha glittering hair swept as a veil between them. The low llute- like, pleading voice stirred his heart, and the

"Yeu have the means; you must emploj- bjood surged over his pallid Ibrehcad.

them. There, I will not take back the money ; it is yours."

" Don't refuse it, antie, you will wound Irie," pleaded Klectra.

How little they understood or apprecfated the struggle in that gentle sufierftr's heart ; how impossible for them to realize the humil- iation she endured in accepting such a gift from the child of Leonard llumingdon V"

With a I'altering voi(;e she asked :

" Did your lather send me this money ?"

" No,"

It was the first time she hnd ever alluded to bim, and Irene saw that some painful mcni- ory linked itself with her father. Whatvould it he 'i* There was silence for a few seconds; tliei^ Mrs. Aubrey took the hands from her face and .said: " Irene, I will accejjt your gen- erous ofl'er. If my sight is restored, I can repay you some day ; if not, I am not too jtroud to be under this great obligation to you. Oh, Irene ! I cant tell you how umeh I thank you; my heart is too full for. words." She throw her arm round the girl's waist and strained her to her bosom, and hot tears fell fast on the wa^•es of golden hair. A moment after, Irene threw a tiny envelope into Elec- tra's lap, and without another wo:-d glided out of the room. 'Jhe orj)iian broke the seal, and as she opened a sheet of note pajer a ten- dollar bill slipped out.

I have been injured and insulted. Just now I doubt all people and all things, even the justice and mercy of God."

" Russell, ' shall not the righteous Judgo of all the earth do right V"

^' Shall tlie rich ;vnd llie unprimiplcd eter- nally trample upon the poor opid the untbrtu- nate':'"

"Who has injured you ?"

" A meek looking man who passes for a Christian, who turns pale at the sound of a violin, who e.xhorts to missionary labors, and iaiks ollen about widows and orphans. Silch a man, knowing the circumstances that sur- rounc- me, my ])overty, my mother's allliction, on bare and most unwarrantable su^^picion turns me out of my situation as clerk, and en- deavors to brand my name with infamy. To- day I stand disgraced in the eves of the com- munity, thanks to the vile slanders of that pillar of the church, Jacob \N atson. Four liours ago, I went to my work quietly, hope- fully ; but now another spirit has entered and posses.'^ed me. Irene," I am desperate. Do you wonder ? It seems to me ages have rolled over me since my mother kissed me this morn- ing; there is a hissing serpent in my heart which I have no power to expel. I could bear it myself, but my mother ! my noble, patient, suffering mother! 1 must go in, and add a yet heavier burden to those already

MACARIA.

17

orushinf:; out ber life. Pleasant {iflliiff?, these I bring lier : that her son is disgraced, branded as a rogue !"

There was no moisture in the keen eye, no tremor in the metallic ring of" his voice, no re- laxation of the curled lip.

" Can't you prove your innocence ? "Was it money?"

" No, it was a watch ; my watch, which I gave up as security for drawing a portion of my salary in advance. It was locked up in the iron safe ; this morning it was missing, and they accuse nie of having stolen it."

He took olV his hat as if it oppressed him, and lo.ssed back his hair.

*' What will you do, Russell ?"

" I don't, know yet."

" Oh ! if I could only help you."

She clasped her hands over her heart, and for the first time since her infancy tears rush- ed dowrt her cheeks. It was painful to see that quiet girl so moved, and Russell hastily took the folded hands in his, and bent his face close to hers.

" Irene, the only comfort I have is that you are my friend. Don't let them influence you against me. No matttu" what you may hear, believe in me. Oh, Irene, Irene ! believe in me always !"

lie held her hands in a clasp so tight that it

f)ained her, then suddenly dropped them and eft her. As a pantomime all this passed be- fore Electra's eyes ; not a Avord reached her, but she knew that something unusual had oc- curred to bring her cousin home at that hour, and felt that now he was but the avant-coXi- rier of a new sorrow. She glanced toward her aunt's bowed form, then smoUiered a groan, and sat waiting for the blow to fall upon her. Why spring to meet it? He went to his own room first, and five, ten, fifteen minutes rolled j on. She listened to the faint sound of his lUjts, and' knew that he paced up and down the floor; five minutes more of crushing sus- i peiist, and he came along the passage and I •tood at the do<ir. She looked at him, pale, I irect, and firm,*and shuddered in titnking of j the struggle wliich that calm exterior had cost , bim. Mrs. Aubrey recognized th« step, and ■ lOoked round in surprise. {

" Klectra, I certainly hear Russell coming." | He drew near and touched her cheek with | lis lips, saying tenderly : i

" How is my mother ?"

" Russell, what brings you home so early?" i " That is rather a cold welcome, mother, rat I am not astonished. Can you bear to lear «omething unpleasant? Here, put your j land.s in mine ; now lisUn to mc-. "You know , dnw fil'ty dollars of my salary in advance, to j )ay (;iark< At that time I gave my watch to dr. Watson by way of pawn, he seemed so ; elm tant to let me have thy money; you un- j ersfand, mother, why I did not mention it at I he time. He locked it up in the iron safe, to i

which no one ha-s access except him and my- self Late yesterday I locked tlie safe as usual, but do not remember whether the Avatch was still there or not; this morning Mr. Wat- son missed it; we searched safe, desk, .store, could find it nowhere, nor the twenty-dollar gold pii'ce deposited at the same time. No other money was missing, though the safe con- tained nearlya thousand dollArs. The end of it all is that I am accused as the thief, and ex- pelled in disgrace for-^ "

A low, phiintive cry escaped the widow's lip.«, and her head sank heavily on the boy's shoulder. Passing his arm fondly around her, he kissed her white face, and continued in the same hushed, passionless tone, like one speaking under his breath, and stilling some devouring i-age:

" Mother, 1 need not assure you of my in- nocence. You know that I never could be giiilty of what is imputed to me ; but, not having it in my power to prove my innocence, I shall have to surt"er the disgrace for a season. Only for a season, I trust, mother, for in time -the tiuth must be (^iseovered. I have been turned out of my situation, and, though thejr have no proof" of my guilt, they- will try to brand me with the disgrace. But they can't crush me ; so long as there remains a drop of blood in my veins, I will scorn their slanders and their hatred. Don't cry, mother; your tears hurt me more than all my wrongs. If you will only be brave, and put entire confi- dence in me, I shall bear all this infinitel/ better. Look at the bitter truth, f"ace to fiioe; we have nothing more to lose. Poor, afllicted, disgraced, there is nothing else on earth to fear ; but there is everything to hope for ; w.ealthi^ name, fame, influence. This is my comfort; it is a grim philosophy, born of de- spair. I go forward f"rom to-day like a man who comes out of some fiery furnace, and, blackened and scorched though he be, looks into the future without apprehension, feeling assured that it can hold no trials comparabfe to those already past. Herein I am strong; but you should have another and far brighter hope to rest upon ; it is just such ordeals as this for which religion promises you strength and consolation. Mother, I have seen you supported by Christian faith in a darker hour than <his. Take courage, all will be weH some day."

For a few momenta dt>ep silence reigned ia the little kitchen, and only the Infinite eye pierced the heart of the long tried sufferer. V>'hen she raised her head from the boy's bosom, the face, though tear-stained, waa serene, and, preaeing her lips twice to his, she said slowly :

" ' Beloved, think it not strange concerning the. fiery trial wliich is to try you; as thougn some strange thing happened unto you. For whom the Lord iovelU he chasteneth, and scourgelh e»ery son whom he receiveth.' I.

18

MACARIA.

will wail natienUv. my M)n, hopinc for proofs which shall convmci- the world of yoiir inno- oencc. I wii^h I rould tak«; the whole burden on my shoulders, and n licvc you, my dear

«« You have, mother : it ceases to crush me, now tliHt yiiu are voursolf once more." He ^ fpokc -ivith dlffirultj-, however, as if something • stifled him, and, rising, hastily poured out and drank a ulass of water.

»• And now, Russell, sit down and let me tell , Tou H lit Lie that is plejisant and sunshiny, 'rhero i-- still a l.ri|.'ht spot leR to look upon." ] St« iilinp her hand into his, the mother in- formed him of all that had wcurred during IremV visit, and coneluded by laying the mont V in his palm.

j:i,'(lia sat opposit*?, watclnng the change that ' auK' over the faoe ?he loved best on earth. Her large, eager, midnight eyes noted the (lui A flush" and glad light which over- spread his features; the deep joy that kiudh-d in his tortured soul; and un.-.onsciously she cluKhi d her fingers till the nails grew purjjle, a» tlinuuh striving to strangle some hideous objcti "thrusting itself before her. Her breat!iin.g became labored and painful, her »»aze miire concentrated and searehij)g, and when her cousin exclaimed: "Oh, mother! she i^ an angel! I have always known it. She is Hiniktt everylx)dy else!" Eleetra's heart £iceni< d to stand still; and from that moment a sonil'r© curtain fell between the girl's eyes and (Vl's sunshine. She rose, and a silent yet terrible struggle took plac«5 in her pas- sionate Boul. Justice and jealousy wrestled bri-fly ; she would be just, though every star fell from her skv, and with a (juick, unti-rtaiu step she reached Kuatjell, thrust Irene's note into his fingers, and fled into solitude. An hour later, Russell knocked at the door of an oflice which bore on a square tin pkitc ihese words, " Robert Campbell, Attorney at Law." The thxjr was oidy partially closed, and as he entered au elderly man looked uj» from a desk, covered with loose papers and oi)en volumes from which he was evidently m^iking extracts. The thin hair hung over his fore- head as if resth:85 fingers had ploughed care- lessly through it, and, as he kept one finger on a halt-iopied paragraph, the cold blue eye said very plainly, " this is a busy time with me ; de6i»;itch your errand at once."

" (iOO<l- morning, Mr. Campbell; arc you parti, ulurlv eugaged V"

"How-d'y-do, Aubrey. 1 am generally engaged; confoundedly busy this morning. Whal <lo you want "/ '

His pen resumed its work, but he turned his head as if to listen. . „

" 1 will call again when you are at leisure, said Russell, turning away.

" 'J'iat will be— next month— next year ; in fine, postponing your visit indefinitely. Sit down — somewhere — well — clear those books

into a corner, and let 's ho.ir your busine.<«a. I am at your service for ten minutes — talk fast."

He put his pen behind his ear. crosicd his arms on the desk, and looked expectant.

" I came here to ask whether you wished to employ any one in your oflice."

"And what the deuce do you suppose I want with an ofhee-lad like yourself? To put the very books I need at the bottom of a pile tall as'the tower of Babel, and tear up my brit;fs to kindUi iJie fire or light your cigar? No, thank you, Aubrey, I tried that experi- ment to my perfect satisfaction a few months ago. Is that all?" " That is all, sir."

The boy rose, but the bitter look that crossed his face as he glanced at the well- filled book-shelvejj arrested the lawyer's at- tention, and he added:

"Why did you leave Watson, young man'/

It is a ba<l plan to change about in this style."

" I was e.\i>elled from my situation on a foul

and most unjust accusation. I am seeking

employment from necessity."

" Expelled is a dark vvord, Aubrey; it will hardlv act as a passport to future bituations. Expelled clerks are not in demand."

" Still, I must state the truth nnreservedly." " Let 's hear the whole business; sit down." AVithout hesitation he narrated all tlie cir- cumstances, once or twice pausing to stiil the tempest of passion that flashed. from his eyes. While he spoke, j\lr. CampbeH's keen eyes seaiched him from head to loot, aud at the conclusion he asked sharply:

" Where is the watch, do you suppose ?" " Heaven only knows. I have a • UKpicion, I but no right to utter it, since I might thereby I inflict a wrong equal to that from which I now ' sufl'er." . ^^

" It is a dark piece of business as it stands.' " Yes, but time will clear it up." " See here, Aubrey, 1 have noticed you two or three times in the court-house listening to .some oi" mv harangues. I knew your father, and I should" like to help you! It seems to me you might make better use of your talents tlian you are doing. And yet, if you rise it will be over greater obstacles than most men Burmuunt. Do you understand me ? '

" I do ; lor I am too painfully aware of the

preju<iic(^ against which I have to contend.

hut if I live, I suall lift myself out of this

pool where malice and hate have thrust me."

" What do you propose to doV"

" Work at the plough or before the anvil, if

nothing else can be done to support mv mother

and cousin; imd as &oon as I possibly can

8tu«ly law. This is my plan, ami for two

years I have been pursuing my Latin and

Greek with an eye to accomplishing the

scheme." . .

" I see fate has thumped none of your ongi-

! nal obitiuacy out of you. Aubrey, suppose

MACARI.-i.

19

I shut my eyes to the watch transaction, and take vou into my office ?"

" If so, I shall do my duty faithfully. But you said you did not need any one here, and though I am anxious to find work I do not expect or desire to be. taken in from charity. I intend to earn my wages, sir, and from your own a<?connt I should judge you had very little use for an assistant."

" Humpli ! a bountiful share of pride along with prodigious obstinacy. Though I am a lawyer, I told you the truth ; I have no earthly use for such assistants as I have been plagued with for several years. In the main, office-boys are a nuisance, comparable only to the locuBts of Egypt ; I washed my hands of the whole tribe months since. Now, I have a negro to attend to my office, make fires, etc., and if I could only get an intelligent, am- bitious, honorable, trustworthy young man, he would be a help to me. I had de- .spaircd of finding such, but, on the whole, I rather like you ; believe you can suit me exactly if you will, and I am disposed lo give you a trial. Sit down here and eopy this ])ar- agraph } let me see what .sort of hieroglyphics I shall have to decipher if I make you my copyist."

Russell silently complied, and after a care- ful examination it seemed the chirography was satisfactory.

" Look there, Aubrey, does that array fright- en you ?" » ' "

He pointed to the opposite side of the room, where legal documents of every shape and size were piled knee-deep for several yards.

" Thoy look formidable, sir, but nothing would afford me more pleasure than to fathom their mysteries."

"And what security can you give me that the instant my back is turned you will not quit my work and go off to my books yonder, which I notice you have been Cying very greedil}-."

" No seenrity, sir, but the promise of an honest soul to do its work faithfully and un- tiringl)'. Mr. Camphill, I understand my po- sition thoroughly; I know only too well that I have everything to make, an honorable name, an unblomi'hed reputation, and, relying only on myself. I expect to help myself'. If you ireally n<(Ml nn assistant, and think me trust- worthy. I will be very glad to serve you, and shall morit your confidence. I come to you wnder adverse circumstaneos, with a tarnished character, ami of course you feel some hesi- tancy in employing me. "I have eon'^ealed nothing; you are acquainted with all the facts, ami must decide accordingly."

There was nothing pleadin'g in his tone or mien, but a proud, desperate calmness, unu- sual in one o( his ago. When a truly honest, noble soul meets an equal, barriers of*^ position and age melt like snow-flakes in sunshine, all extraneous circumstances fall aw3y, and, di-

vested of pomp or rags, as the case may be, the full, undimirled maieety of spirit greets spirit, and clear-eyed sytt^thy, soaring above the dross and dust of worldly conventional- ities, knits them in bonds lasting as time. Looking into the resolute yet memncholy face before him, the lawyer forgot the poverty and disgrace clinging to his'^'name, and leaning forward gi-asped his hand.

"Aubrey, you and I can work peacejibly to- gether; I value your candor, I like your, reso- lution. Come to me on Monday-, and in the matter of salary you shall find me liberal enough. I think you' told me you had a cousin as well as your mother to "support ; I sLall not forget' it. Now, good-raorning,^and ppave me unless you de.^© to accumulate >vork for yourself." ' * /

People called Mr. Campbell "miserly," "egotistie," and "selfish." These are harsh adjectives, and the public frequently applies them with culpable haste and uncharitable- ness, for there, is an astonishing proclivity in human nature to detract, to carp, to spy out, and magnify faults. If at all prone to gener- ous deeds, Mr. Campbell certainly failed to platrard them in public places; he had never given any large amount to any particular church, institution, or society, butthe few who knew him well indignantly denied the charge of penuriousness preferred by the community. A most unsafe criterion is public estimation ; it canonizes many an arch-hjpocrite, and mar- tyi'5 many a saint.

CHAPTER IV.

From early childhood Irene had experi- enced a .sensation of loneliness. I)oubtle»i the loss of her mother enhanced this feeling, but the peculiarity of her mental organization would have necessitated it even under happier aurpices. Iler intellect was of the masculine order, acute and logical, rather deficient in the imaginative faculties, but keenly analyti- cal. It is an old predicate that women are de- ductionists, that womanly intuitions are swift and infallible. In richly - endowed female minds it not unfrequently happens that tedi- ous, rcfiective processes are ignored; but Irene was a patient rathei; than brilliant thinker, and with singular perseverance searched i.'\cry nook and cranny, and sifted every phase of the subject presented for investigation. Her conclusions were never hasty, and eonscqu'ent- ly rarely unsound. From the time her baby- fingers first grasped a primer she became « .student: dolls and toys such as constitute the happiness of most children had never po.^sessed any attraction for her, and before she was eight years old she made the library her favor- ite resort. Shi' would climb' upon" the moroc- co-covered table where stood two globes, one celestial, the other terrestrial, and spend hours

to

MACARIA.

in decip}i»»nng the strange, heatln.ni'^h figures i well known that Jlr. ITuntlngtlon had pledged twiued among the stars. When weary oflnH daughter's hand to his sister's son. The Biudying the ludexdBfithe thornioinrter and | age of infant betrothals has i).-i5<!ed away, barometer, and wont^iftig why tlie quiik.«ilver ' consecjucntly thi.i rare instanee gave rise to a varied with sunshine and shower, she would- deal of gossiping comment. How the matter throw henHj^^wn on the floor and fall asleep beeame public he never knew ; "probably over the quanK pictures in an old Knglish en- Sparrowgrasse's "carrier pigeon " migrated cjclopaodia, nnmlxriMj thirty volumes. She southward, for it is now no pneommon thing haunted this room, anfT'grew uj) among books to find one in onr cities and country towns; centuries old. Thus untiWier tenth year there and at all event* Mr. Huntingdon soon found was no authority exerted over her, and the , that hi.s private domestic ailairs were made an strongjir^flective tendency of her mind rapid- ; ordinary topic of conversation in social circles, ly developed itself. Tliis was an almorHial j Irene liad never been oflicialiy appri.^ed of condition, and indisputably an unfortunate I her dextiny, but surmised very accurately the training, and perhaps in after years it might ' true .state of the case. Uetwcen the two Hrvc been better had she spent the sea.son ' cousins tiicre exisleii not the rtlightest con- of careleso, thoughtliM, childliood in ehildisl|^ceniality of taste or dispo.«ition ; not a sympa- sjK)rfs and childl)oo<lV'wonted ways, for anx- thetic link, save the tie of relationship. On ions inquiry an<l tedious investigations come \ her j)art there was a nioderat(*.shaie of cousin- soon enough with maturity. ' ly alFcction ; on his, as much love and tender- She was not an enthusiastic, impulsive nat- , ness as his .seUi.'h nature was capable of fecl- nre, fitful in moo<]ineis or ecstacy, inclined to ing. They rarely quarrelled as most children pas.-ionatc demonstrations of any kind; but do, for when (as frccpivntly happened) he from int'aney evinced a calm, equable temper- | flew info a rage and tried to tyrannize, sho ament, uniformly generous and unselfish, but scorned to retort in any way, and generally most thoroughly firm, nay obstinate, in any locked him out of the library. . What she matter irivolTing principle, or conflit!ting with thought of her father's intentions concerning her opinions of pi epriety. How she obtained herself, no one kijew ; slie never alluded to these notions of right and wrong in minor de- the subjwt, and if in a frolicsome mood Hugh tails, was a subject of some mystery. Thev ' broai hcd it, she invariably cut the discussion were not the result of education in the ordi- siiort. When he went to college in a distant nary acceptation of that term, for they had state, she felt infinitely relieved, and during never been .in.sti!led by anybody; and like a his vacations secluded herself ax mucl* as j)o*- wood-flow^r in some secluded spot, she lived, ' sible. Yet the girl's heart was >7arm and rrew, and expanded her nature, without any clinging; she loved her father devotedly, and influences to bias or color her views. In her . loved most intensely IClectra <^ilruy, whom she iiromis'uous reading she was quite as apt to had first met at school. They were nearly imbibe poisonous as healthy sentiments, and the same age, clasiinates, and firm iViemis. knowing that she had been blessed with few ; Tiiat .she was beautiful, Irene of course knew religious instructions, her fatlii;r often wonder- i quite as well a.s her father or any one else; cd at the rigidness of her code for seif-regu- 1 how could she avoid knowing itV Froni her lation. Miss Margaret considered her " a . cradle she had been called " Queen " and strange little thing," and rarely interlered j " licauty ;" all her accpiaintances llattered her with her jilans in any respect, while her father — strangers commented on her loveliness ; she seemed to take it for nrranted tliat she requir- no more doubted it than the fact of her exist- ed no looking after. He knew that her beauty i ence ; and often stopped before the large par- was extraordinary; ho was proud of the i'act; lor mirrorx and admired her own image, just and having provided her with a good mlisic as she would have, examined and admired and ma.ster, and sent hei- to the best school in the , enjoyed one of the elegant azalca.i or j)clar- connty, he left her to employ her leisure as i goniums in the gi-eenhouse. I repeat it, sho in; lin'ation pro']q)ted. Occasionally her will j prized and enjoyed her Iovclinc$«, imlohe was conflicted with his, and more than once he not vain. iSlie was no more .spoiled by adula- found it impossible to make her yield assent to tion than a meek and snowy camclia, or one of Lis wishes. To the outward oliserrances of those immense golden-eyed pansies which a»- obediciiee and respect she submitted, but i tonish and deliglit visitors at the hot-houses on

wheiv^'ver these difl'ercnces occurred he felt that in the end .she was uneon(juercd. Incon- sistent as it may appear, though fretted for the time by her firmness, he loved her the more for her "wilfulness," as he termed it; and despotic and exacting though he certainly was in many respects), he stood somewhat in awe of his pure-hearted, calm - eyed child. His ward and nephew, Hugh Seymour, had resided with him for sercral years, and it was

Long Islanil. God conferred marvellous beauty on her, and she was grateful for the gift — but to the niiserable weaknesses of rauity, she was a stranger. In the midst of books and flowers bhe was happy, and sei'ined to ilesiro' no com- panions but Jm-cIius and Paragon. She rode every day when the weather permitted, and tlie jetty horse with its graceful yOung rider, followed by the slender, silky greyhound, was a familiar spectacle in the vicinity of her home.

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21

She knew every hill and ralley within ten s miles of tho town ; could tell where the rich- est, rrirest honeysuckles grew, wliere the yel- low jasmine clambered in greatest profusion, Rnd always found the earliest sprays of gray- ' beard that powilered the forest. Often Mr. Huntingdon had ordered his hor:'o, and gone Out in the dusky twilight to search .for her, fearing that some disaster had overtaken his darling ; and at such times met Erebus laden with her favorite flowers. These were the things she, loved, and tlius independent of so- ciety, yet conscious of her isolation, she grew up what nature intended her to be. As' totally different in clmracter as appearance was Electra Grey. Rather smaller and much thinner than Irene, with shining purplish black hair, large, sad, searching black eyes, from which there was no escape, a pale olive complexion, and full crimson lips that rarely smiled. The forehe;vl was broad and promi- nent, and rendered very peculiar by the re- markable width between the finely -arched brows. The serene purity characteristic of Irene's features was entirely wanting in tl\is face, which woijld have seemed Jewish in its contour, but for the Grecian nose; and the melancholy yet fiuseinating eyes haunted the beholder with their restless, wistful, far-reaeli- ing expression. Electra was a dreamer, richly gifted ; di.-^satisfied because she could never attain that unreal world which her busy brain kept constantly before her. The child of genius is rarely, if ever, a happy one —

'• Heaven lies about ug in our infancy."

If so, its recollections cling tenaciously to those who, like Ele-i:tra, seek continually for the airy castles of an ideal realm. Her vivid imagination .shaped and painted, but, as too often happens, her eager blood and bone fingers could not grasp the glories. The thoh- saud cares, hards'.iips, and rough handlings of reality struck cold and jarring on her sensi- tive, highly-strung nature. She did not com- plain; murmuring words had never crossed her lips in the hearing of any who knew her; she loved her aunt ti>o well to speak of sor- row or disappointment. Fourteen years had taught her an unusual amount of stoicism, but sealed lips can not sepulchre grief, and trials have a language which will not be rb- pres.«cd when the mouth is at rest. She looked not gloomy, nor yet quite unhappy, but like one who sees obstacles mountain-liigh loom between her and the destined goal, and asks only permission to press on. lies was a passionate nature ; fierce blood beat in her ▼eins, and would not always be bound by icy fetters. There was no serene plateau of feeling where she could repose ; she enjoyed keenly, ra[)turously, and suffered acutely, fear- fully. Unfortunately fcr her. she had only IJimalayan solitudes, sublime in their dazzlinrf height, or valleys of Tophet, appalling with

She knew whejgin she "patl»-

flame and. phantom, fcihe knew wh^i was gifted, she saw whither her nan**^" way led, and panted to set her littJe feet m the direction of the towering steeps crowned with the temple of art. To be an artist; to put on canvas the grand and imperijikble images that crowded her braiiT, and Iflftost maddened her because she could not give them tangible form ; this was the clay-dream spanning her life like a how of proraise,but fading slowly as years thickened o'er her head, and no helping hand cleared the choked path. " P.overty ! poverty!" Many a night she buri<?d her face under the pillow, and hissed the word through closed teeth, fearful of disturb- ing the aunt, who slumbered at her side. Poverty ! poverty I What an intolerable chain it binds around aspiring souls ! And yet the world's great thinkers have felt this iron in their ficsh, and, bursting the galling bonds, have carved their way to eminence, to im- mortality. It is a lamentable and significant truth tiiat, with a few honorable, noble ex- ceptions, wealth is the Cannae of American intellect. Poverty is a rigid school, and the sessions are long and bitter; but the men and women who graduate therein come forth with physical frames capable of enduring all hardships, with hearts habituated to disap- pointment and fortified against the rcbufls of fortune, with intellectii trained by patient, laborious, unbending application* The ten- derly-nurtured child of wc'dth and luxury very naturally and reasonably shrinks from difiicultics; but increase the obft^les in the path of a son or daughter of penury, inured to trial, and in the same ratio yon strengthen his or her ability and determination to sur- mount them.

Electra's love of drawing had early dis- played it.self; fii-st, in «trange, weird figures ou her slate, then in her copy-book, on every slip of paper which she could lay her hands upon ; and, finally, for want of more suitable material, she scrawled all over the walls of the little bed-room, to the great horror of her aunt, who spread a coat of whitewash over the child's frescos, and bogged her to be guilfy of no such conduct in future, as Mr. Clark might with great justice sue for damages- In utter humiliation, Electra retreated to the garden, ;uid here, after a shower had left the sandy walks trhite and smooth, she would sharpentejbit of pine, and draw figures aod faces oflffeill^conceivable and inconceivable shapes. Chaffing to find hH|ldius engaged one Sunday afternoon, Ru^^^Lpplied her Avith a package of drawing-i^^HLnd pencils. So long as these last<?d shflPwas perfectly happy, but unluckily their straightened cir- cumstances admitted of no such expenditure, and before many weeks she was agam without materials. She would not tell Rus)»ell that £.ho had exhausted his package, ^ml passed slei'pfcss nights trying to devise some method

MACARIA.

bj which she could aid herself. It was posi- ; charge of her, and the day of departure was tiT^Mtture for her to sit in 8choi->l and see j fixed. Klectra packed the little trunk, saw it the TTOwinpf-master go round, pivinj: lessons : de|K)sited on the top of the stajiC, in the on this side and that, skipping over her e>\'ry \ dawn of an Oetoher morninji saw her aunt time, be<au3e her aunt could not aflbrd the , comfortably seated beside Mr. Ilill, and in exU;^ thn-ti dollars. How l()n)i;i..ply (lie eyes another moment all had vaui.>hed. In the foptarf-d the ma«t»r's form, how liun;;rily they afternoon of that day, on returning from d«M>lt Tipoii, tlie sketches hi; leani d over to s«liool. Klectra went to the bureau and, un- examine ifffi retoueh V J*'re(juently during lorkiiig a drawer, took out a small paper box. drawing-hohrshe would sit with lier head bent [t coiilained a miniature of ber father, set in down pretending to studv, but the pages of a hand5ome gold frame. She knt w it had the book were generally \)listired with tears, been her- motht-r's most valued trinket; her which no eye but the Fatlier's looked upon. , .lunl had carefully kept it for her, and as There was, however, one enjoyment which often as the temptation assailed her she had nothing could steal from her; the town eon- resisted; but now the longing for money lained two book-slores, and here she was wont triumjihed over every other fceiirg. Having to Jinger over tlie numerous engravings aiid touched the spring, she took a knife and cau- oeca.sional oil paintings they boasted. The tiously removed the bit of ivory beneath the proprietors and deiks seemed rather pleased ght<s, then deposited the two last in the bo.\, than otherwise by the silent homage she j)aid i put the gold frame in her j)ovket, and went their pictures, and, except to tender her a I out to a jewelry store. As several persons seat, no one ever interfered with her exami- , had preceded her, she leaned against the nations. One engraving interested her jiar- : counter, and, while waiting, watched with ticularly; it represented St. John on Patmos, some curiosity the movements of one of the writing B^velations. She went as usual one , gold, miths, who, with a glass over one eye, Saturday morning for another look at it, but , was engaged in repairing watches. Some a different design hung in its place ; sho j had been taken from their cases, others were glanced around, and surmising the object of | untouched ; and as her eyes p.assed swiitljr her search, tiie proprietor told her it had j ovei- the latter, they were suddenly riveted to been sold the day before. An expression of! a massive gold one lying .somewliat apart. A sorr.iw crossed her face, as though she had ■ half-.smothered e.\clamation caused thework- aM.stAincd an irreparable lo.^s, and, drawing i man to turn round and look at her; but in an her bonne^|»wn, she went .>«lowly homeward. . instant she calmed herself, and, thinking it a Amid all JSese yc'arnings and aspirations .•<he mere outbreak of impatience, he resumed his turned cMJbantly to Ku.sscU, with a worship- ; employnieht. Just tlion one of the proprie-

tiing lovo^HRt knew no bounds. She loved ; tors approached, and said politely, " 1 am ler meek, affectionate aunt, as well as most I sorry we have kept you waiting, miss. What natures love their mothers, and did all in her ! can I do for ypu V" power to lighten her labors, but her affectiou i '• What is this worth ?' for Russell bordered On adoration. lu a char- | She laid the locket down on the counter, acter so exacting and pa.'^.sionate as hers there i and looked up at liim with eyes that sparkled in necessarily much of jealousy, and thus it • wry joyouslv he tIiou:rht. lie examined it a

Oame to pass tliat, on the day of Irene's visit to the cottage, the horrible suspicion took possession of lier that he loved Irene better than herself. True, she was very young, but childish hearts fee! as keenly as those of ma- turer years; and Elecira endured more agony during that <lay than in all of her past life. Had Irene been other than she w;us, in every raspect^ she would probably have hated her cordially; as matters stood, she buried the guspicion deep in her own heart, and kept M much out of cvei-ybody** way ^jftossiblt. Days and weeks passed very weWly ; sin- busied herselLwith her text-boql^B, tmd, when the les.sons-hM*bccn r»!cit"d, drew all over the margins — hoie a hand, there an entire arm, now and then a face, .•sad-eyed as Fate.

Mrs. Aubrey's eye becauie so blurred that finally she could not leave the house without having some one to guide her, and, as cold weather had now arrived, preparations were made for her journey. Mr. Hill, who was going to New Orleans, kindly offered tc^take*

moment, and said lathe.r drily :

" It is worth little or nothing to us, though you may prize it."

" If I were to buy another just like it, would you charge me ' little or nothing ?' "

He smiled good-humorcdly.

'* liuying and selling are different things, don't you know that? Come, tell me what you want to sell this for?"

" liecause I want some money."

" You are Mrs. Aubrey's uiccc,\I believe ?"

" Yes, sir."

" Well, how do I know, in the first place, that it belongs to you ? Jewellers have to be very particular about what they buy."

She crimsoned, and <lrcw herself proudly away, from llie, counter, then smiled, and held out her hand for the locket.

" It is mine ; it held my father's miniature, but I took it out because 1 want a paint-box, and thought I could sell this case for enough to buy one. It was my mother's once ; here are hor initials on the back, II. G., Harriet

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2S

Grey. But of course you don't know whether I am tellinii; the truth ; I will bring my cousin with me, he can prove it. Sir, are you so particular about everything you buy?"

'♦ We try to be."

Again her eyes sparkled; she bowed, and left the store.

Once in the street, she hurried to .Mr. Campbell's office, ran up the stejjs, and rapped loudly at the door.

*• Come in !" thundered the lawyer.

yiie stoj)pcd oji the tlu-eshold, glanced round, and said timidly:

" I want to see Russell, if you please."

" Russell is at the post-olBce. Have you any particular spite at my door, that you belabor it in that style ? or do you suppose I am as deaf as a gate-post ?"

"I beg your pardon; I did not mean to startle you, sir. I was not thinking of either you Or your tloor."

3he sprang down the stops to wait on the sidewalk for her cousin, and met hijn at the entrance.

" Oh, Russoll ! I have found your watch."

A raj- of light seemed to leap Irom his eyes as he seized iier hand.

- Where V"

" At ]\Ir. Brown's jewelry store."

" Thank (;od !"

He W( nt up the stairway, delivered the letters, and came back, accompanied by Mr. Campbell.

" This is my cousin, Electra Grey, Mr. Campbell."

" So I inferred from the unceremonious . assault she made on my door just now. How- ever, sljake hands, little lady ; it seems there is some reason for your haste. Let 's hear about this precious watch business."

She simply told what she had seen. Pres- ently Russc'li said :

" But horf did you happen there, Electra ?"

" Your gooil angel sent me, I suppose ; — " and ahe added in a whi.-iper, " I will tell you some other tinif."

On re-entering the store, she walked at once to the workman's 'orner, and pointed out the watch.

" Yes, it is mine. I wouliMCnow it among a thousand."

" How can you identify it, Aubrey?"

He immediately gave the number, and name of the manufactur r. and described the interior tracery, not oniittiug the quant iiv of jewels. Mr. Campbell turned to the I tor (the same gentleman with whofla i i had conversed), and briefly recapUralat^^d the circumstances which had oeeurreJ in connec- tion with the watch. Mr. Brown listened at- tentively, then requested Russell to point out the parlienlar one that resembled his. He did so, and on examination, the number,date. name, and all the marks corresponded so exactly that no doubt rSmaiued on the jeweller's mind.

" Young man, you say you were accused of stealing your own watch ?"

" Yes."

" Then I will trv' to clear your name. This watch was brought here several weeks since, while I was absent. I am veiy guarded in such matters, and require my young men here to take a certificate of the name and place of residence of all strangers who offer articles for sale or exchange. I once very innocently bought some stolen property, and it taught me a lesson. This watch was sold for ninety dol- lars by a man named Rufus Turner, who lires

in New Orleans, No. 240 stre<>t.. 1 will

write to him at once, and find out, if possible, how it came into his possession. I rather think he had some horses here for .sale."

"Did he wear green glasses?" inijuired Russell of the young man who had purchased the watch.

" Y'es, and had one arm in a sling."

" I saw such a man here about the time my watch wa^ mis.sing."

After some directions from Mr. Campbell concerning the proi)er course to be pursued, Electra drew out her locket, saying —

" Now, Russell, is not this locket mine ?"

" Yes ; but where is the miniature ? What are you going to do with it?"

" The miniature is at home, but I want to sell the frame, and Mr. Brown docs not know but that it is another watch case ?"

'• If it is necessary, I will swear that it be- longs lawfully to you ; but Avhat do you want to sell it for? I should tliink you would prize it too highly to be willing to part with it."

" I do prize the miniature, and would not part with it lor any consideration ; but I want something fixr more than a gold case to keep it in."

" Tell me what you want, and 1 will get it for you," whispered her cousin.

" No, I am going to sell this frame."

" And I am going to buy it from you," said the kind-hearted merchant, taking it from her hand and weighing it.

Russell arid. .Mr. Campbell left the store, and soon after Mr. Brown paid Electra sev- eraj dcliars for the loeket.

In halt an hoiu' she had purchased a small box of paints, a supply of drawing-paper and peneils, and returned home, happii-r and proudttr than many an empress, whose jewels 1,.,,,. o,,,,-,ll, J those of the Bcgiims of Oude. Russell's charact<'r, and her

. I sp^l over her heart to still its

rapturous throbbing. Happy a.s an uneagcd bird, she arranged the tea-table and sat down , tu wait for him. He came at last, later than usual, and then she had her reward ; he took her in his arms and kissed her. -Yet, while his lip rested on hers, Irene's image rose be- fore her, and ho felt her shiver as she clnng to him. He was her idol, and the bare sugges-

24

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tion of his loving ano'.her better cliilled the I and gloried in an opportunity of injurinnf me. Wood in her Tcins. He spoke little of the | Do you suppose I shall shield your unirrinci- watch, appeared to miss his motht r. and soon pK*d sou for your sake? You showed me no went to his room aud began to stu-iT. How ; mercy, you mav expect as little. The stow of ignornnt lie wa« of what passed in hi* lousin'a j the watch shall miice its way wherever we^^ — " heart: how little he husnccted iJie intensity of i He paused suddenly, for the imaure of his her feeling''. Con^'antly Ofuupi-d during the [ gentle, forgiving mother rose before, liim, and day, he rarely thi^ujjht of her away from he knew that she would be grieved at the home; and, though a! ways kind and con.sider- j spirit he evinced. There was an awkward ate, he failed to understand her natur<<, or ( silence, broken by Mr. Watson, fully a^ipreeiafe her affection for him. Many I " If I retract all that I have said agr»vnst davK elapsed before Mr. Turner's answer ar- | you, and avow your innocence, will it sati^lV rived. He stated that he had won the watch ^ you ? Will you In; silent about Cecil V" from Cecil Watson, at a liorse-race, where "No!" rose peremptorily to his lip< but he both Were betting; and proved the correct- i cheeked it; and the patient teaching of year^. ness of his a.ssertion by reference to several his mother's precepts, ami hi.s mother's prayers persons / •" o were nn-scnt, and who resided in I brouL'ht forth their first fruit, crolden charity, the town, llussi.'ll had suspected Cecil froip I " You merit no forbearance at my Iiands, the moment of it.s disappearance, and now, and I came here intending to show you none; provided with both letter and watch, and ac- 'but, on rcllection, I will not f<;llow yourcxam- companied by Mr. Brown, he repaired to Mr. ; i)ie. * Clear my name before the public, and I Watson's sto:e. Russell had been insulted, leave the whole affair with you. There has hLs nature was stern, and now he e.xulteil in | never been any love betwei n us, because you the power of disgracing the son of the man were always despotic and ungenerous, but I who had wronc;ed him. There was no flush am sorry for yo>i now, for you have taught me on hii facr", but a cold, triumphant glitter in * how heavy is the bunlen you have to bear in luti ryes as he apy)roachcd his former employ- ! future. CJood-uiorning." er, and laid watch and letter before him. | Afraid to trust himself, he turned away and

"What business have you here?" growled joiued Mr. Campbell in the ofKce. jj

the merchant, trembling before the expression ' In the afternoon of the same day came a of tin- boy's countenance. J letter from Mr. Hill containing sad news.

"My business is to clear my character which ' The oculist had operated on Mr.s. Anbrey's you have slandered, ainJ to fi.'^ the disgrace j eyes, but violent inflammation had ensued; he vou intended for me on your own .son. I had done all that .scientific skill coulil prompt, briog you the proofs of his not my villany." ! but feared .='lie would be hopelessly blind. At

" Come into the back-room, I will see Brown . the close of the letter ilr. Hill staUul that ha another time," said Mr. Watson, growing j)aler would bring her home the following week, each moment. '■ One November evening, just before dark,

" No, sir, you were not so secret in your \ while Russell was cutting wood for the kitch- dcaliiigs with me. Here where you insulted j en-fire, tlie stage stop])cd at the cottage-gate,

and he hurried forward to reciMve his mother iu his arms. It was a melancholy reunion;

me you sliall hear the whole truth. Read that. I suppose tlie twenty -dollar gold piece

followed the watch." I for a moment the poor sufferer's fortitude for

Ttie unfortunate father perused the letter ^ok ^er, and she wept. Bjit his caresses slowly, and smothered a groan. Ru>seil w.ilcli- : soothed her, and she follov/ed P^lectra into ed him with a keen joy whi(!h he might bavu i the house while lie brought in the trunk, blushed to acknowledge had lie analyzed his When .--liawl aud bonnet ha<l been removed, feelings. Writhing under l.i.; empaling eye, and 1".! •( tra placed her in the rocking-chair.

Mr. Watson said :

" Have you applied to the irltnCBses refer- red to ?"

" Yi'S, they are ready to swear that they saw Cecil bet Turner the wateh."

the light fell on face and figure, and the (Cous- ins started at the change that had taken p^iee. She was .so '^liastly pale, so very much reduced. She told them all that had occurred tluring the tedious weeks of absence ; how much she " You did not tell them the circuujktftanccs, ' regrette<l having gone since the trip proved so did vou V" v(y^ unsuccessful; hriw. much more she deplored

"Ao." ' the afllietion on their acrount than her own;

" Wt 11, it is an unfortunate affair; I want and theu from that hour no allusion was ever it drop|)ed as quietly as possible. It will made to it.

never do to have it known far, and wide." —

"Aha ! you can feel th6 stitig now. Buy|^^^^| remember you took care to circulate the ^ISuKt/tKr CirAPTER V.

der on my name. I heard of it. You did BMJ^^^^

spare me, yoa did not spare my mother; <(h'dd' ,j|iVccks and months slipped away, and total Jacob Watson, neither will I spare you. Yott4.t!arkness came down on the widow. She aever believed me guilty, but you hated me] groped with some difficulty froil! room to

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room., and Electra ■was compelled to remain at home and watch oyer her. Rus«!(dl had be- booio a great favorite with his crusly employ- er, and, .when the labors of the oilice wore ended, brouslit home such book<< as ho needed, and spent his evenings in s'udy. His powers of appliention and endin-ancft were extraordi- nary, and his progress was in the same ratn. As he became more and more absorbed in these pm'suits his reserve and taciturnity in- 03:eased, and liis habitirally hasty step and ab- straftftd ex[iros»ion of countenance told of a strong nature straining its powers to tlie ut- most to atf^iiin some distant, glimmei'ing goal. His employer was particularly impressed by the fact that he never vohiuteered a remark on any subject, and rarely opened his lips ex- cept to ask some necessar.y information in connection with h\s ])usiiie3K. Sometimes the 'silence of the ofhi-e was unbroken lor hours', save by the dull ."scratching of pens, or an •im]).»tic.nt exclani'ition fi-om Mr. Campbell. Respectful in deportment, attentive to his du- ties, neverpreenming upon kindness, constant- ly at work from morning until night, yet with atv unmistakable sorrow printed on his face — a sorrow never obtruded on.anv one, never ;^uded to — he won fir.'it the rigid scrutiny of the lawyer, then his deepest, most abiding alfectiou. Naturally cold and undemonstra- tive in manner, Mr. Campbidl gave little evi- dence of feeling of any kind, yet the picrfing blue eye lost its keeaness when resting on the tall, stahyart form of the clerk, and once or twice the wrinkled hand sought his broad shouhler almost caressingly. -He had pot mar- ried ; had neither mother nor sisters to keep his nature loving and gentle, and, though he occasionally visited his brother, who was a minist^T in the sailie town, he was hehl in awe by the m(>nibers of that brother's family, lie comprehended Russell's character, and quiet- ly facilitated his progi'ess. There wa^ no syc- ophancy on the part of the young man, no patronage on that of the eniplo} er.

One afternoon Irene tapped lig'htly at the cottage-door, and entered the kitchen. Tilrs. Aubri-y s'.t in a low chair close to the fireplace, engaged in knitting; lier smooth, neat calico i dress and spotless linen collar told that "care- j ful, hands tended her, and the soft auburn hair lirushcd over her temples showed broad bands of gray as the evening sun shone on it. She turned her brown, .'nglitle.'is eyes toward the door, and asked in a low voice :

"WiioisitV"

" It is only me, ISIrs. Aubrey.""

Irene bfnt down, laid her two hands on the ■widow's, and kissed her forehead.

"I am glad to hear your voice, Irene; it has been a long time since yon were here."

" Yis, a good many •weeks, I know, but I could not come."

" Are yod well ? Your hands and face aie cold." > i

"Yes, thank you, very well. I am' alwaj'rt cold, I believe. Hugh says 1 am. Here are some flowers from the greenhouse. I brought them b(>cause they are so fragrant : and here, too, are a few oranges from the same plare. Husli ! don't thank me, if you please. 1 wish I could come here oftener. I always i'v.vl bet- ter after being with you ; but I can't always come when I want to, do so."

" Wliy not, Irene ?"

" Oh, because of various tilings. Between school and music^ find riding and reading, I have very little time; and besides,'^' father wants me with him when he is at home. I play chess with him, and sometimes we are three or four days fmisliing one game. Some- how, Mr.«i. Aubrey, tliough I don't mean to be idle, it seems to me that 1 do very little. Ev- erybody ought to be of some use in this world, but I i'ecl like a bunch of mi-stletoe, growing on somebody else, and doing nothing. I don't intend to sit down and hold my hands all iny life, but what can I do? Tell me how to begin."

She lifted a large tortoise-colored cat from a small stool, and drew it near the hearth, just at the widow's feet, seating hersell', and re- moving her hat.

" Tluit is more easily asked than answered; you are a great heiress, Irene, and in all hu- man probability -vvill never be obliged to do . anything. For ivhat is generally denomin.ated work you will have no occasion ; but all whc wish to be really happy should be cmj^loyed in some way. You will liot have to labor for your food and clothes, like my Russell and- Elcctra; but you will have it in your power to do a vast deal more good. In cultivating your mind do not forget your heart; it is nat^ urally full of very generous, noble impulses; but all human beings have faults; what yours may be you know best, and you should con- stantly strive to correct them. Read your Bi])le, dear child; not now and then, but daily and prayerfully. Oh, Irene ! I have had some bitter, bitter sorrows, and frequimtly I thought that they would crush out my life, lu, those times of triab if 1 had not had my Bible and my God I believe I shouhl have lost my reason. But I read and was eomfor(,ed. His promises sustained me ; and in looking back 1 see many place.* which should be called" Jehovah Jiri.h, for the Lord saw ruid provided. Your Bible will teach you your duty much better than I possibly can. You owe your father a great deal ; his hopes and joys centre in you,- and through lif^.' lu- will look to you for his happiness. VVIumi you are grown, soci- ety, too, will clailh you; you will be sought after anil flattered; and, Irene, undvf these circumstances — with your remarkable beauty and wealth — you will find it a diffieult matter to avoid hoJug spoiled. Yxjur influence will be very great, and a fearful respon^iiiility must attend its employment. Let it be for

36

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!]jooi1. Try to keen your heart free from all | erected to promulgate some particular dogma, > Ifi^h or Ignoble n-eJings; pray to God for ! to magnify and exalt as all-important some •guidance, that you may be enabled through trilling dllTerenee in the form ol church gov- Ilis gra<e to keep youreelf 'unspolted from , ernmcnt. Once established, the mrmbora of the vorld; ' those wonL; contain the wliole: ■ each 5ect apply thcuisclves to the agg.audize- ' uusj")fril from tfie tvorlil.' You have not ' ment of their peculiar church ; and thus it been s] "•'<(1 thus far by luxury and life-long ! conies to pass that instead of (in«' va^tbrother- jK'ttiiig, aril I hope and believe that you never hood, united against sin and infid^'lity, they will be; but rcnvmber, we must be continu- \ are disgracefully wrangling about sectarian aily on the watch against temptation. Irene, ' matters of no coiisfqucnce whaU-ver. In all !»avc I spoken too plainly V" ' this there is much totally antagonistic to the

*' No. I thank you for your candor. I want ■ princij>les inculcated by our Saviour, who you to advise me just as you would Electra. \ expressly denounced the short-si:^hlcd bigotry I <lonlt read my IJible as ol'tcn as I ought, but of those who magnified external observances there arc so many thing's in it which I do not , and non-essentials ht the expense of the gen- undei stand that 1 hardly ever open it now. nine spirit of their religion. I wish most ear- I have nobody to explain the difliculties." nestly that these denominational b:irri; rs and

" It is very clear on the subject of our duty ;; distinctions could bo swept away, that the Go<V left not the slladow of mystery in his laws , names of i\Iftho<list and Episcopal, Presby- for the government of the heart and regula- ' terian and Baptist could be obliterated, and tion of the lift;. lie commands us to receive ' that all tlie members were gatl;iied l.armoni- certain rules, to practise certain principles, i ously into one world-wide pale, tho Protestant

and to abstain from certain sinful things, all ot which are specified, and not to be mistaken by even the niyst obtuse. Melvill has said in one of his beautiful and comforting sennons: ' CJod breathed h'uiiself into the composition?

Church of our Lord Jesus Christ."

" Mrs. Aubrey, do you belong to any

jhundi '.'" " Yes, ■ Irene, because Christ .founded a

church, and I think every man and woman

of i)rophets and apostles and evangelists, and should belong to some religious organization, there, as in the mystic recesses of an cverlast- Moreover, unless a member of .some one of ing sanctuary, he still resides, ready to dis- i the denominations, you can not commune; clo.-e himself to the humble, and to be evoked and, a? the sacrament particularly established by tiie prayerful. ]*ut in legard to every by our Saviour, all ought to be able to par- other book, however fraught it may be with , take of it. I think it a matter of little coa- the maxims of piety, however pregnant with j scqueuec which of the CTangelical sects one momentous truth, there is nothing of this slirin- < selects. , Do not imagine that I believe people ing himtelf of Deity in the depths of its mean- ' can only be saved by entrance into some ing. Men may be instructed by its pages, and } church; I think no such thing ; the church is draw from tliem hope and con.solalion, but | a valuable instvuuient, but God who estab- never will they find there* the burning She- ' lished it can work without it. Still, it is kinah which proclaims the actual presence of very ivasonable to suppose that regular at- God; never hear a voice as from the solitudes tendance on divine service fosters piety, and of an oracle pronouncing the words of jmmor- i keeps the subject of our duty more constanti); Ulity.' " ' before us."

" How then docs it happen, Mrs. Aubrey, | She had finished her knitting, and sat with that diHerent churches teach such conflicting \ her thin hainls folded in her laj) — the nu'ek doctrines? Why are there so many denouu- ' face more than usi^jilly serene, the sightless nations? If the ti'a<.'hings of the Bible are so ! eyes directed toward her visitor. Sunshine plain, how can such various creeds arise ?" , (lucked the b/ire boards under the window,

"Because poor human nature is. so full of | flashed on the tin vessels ranged on the foibles; because charity, t^e fundamental doc- 1 shelves, and lingered like a halo around trine of Christ, is almost lost sight of by those I Irene's head. Her hair swept on the floor, churches; it has dwindled into a mere speck, j and the cat played now and tl^'U with the in conntarison with the trifles which they have j gohlen rings so softly as not to attract notice, magnified to usurp its place. Instead of one I as though conscious the new toy was jireeious. great Christian church, holding the doctrines 1 The countenances of the group contrasted of the New Testament, practising the true j vividly : the sweet resignation of the blind 8j)iriL of tiie Saviour, and in gonuine c|iarity ] gufferer, the marble purity of Irene's face, allowing its members. to judge for themselves ! and, just in the rear, KIcctra's bi-oad," pule in tiif. minor cpiestions relating to religion ; I brow and restless, troubled, midnight eyes, such for instance as the mode of bapti.sm, the The latter had been drawing at tlie table ia privilege of believing presbyters and bishops I the miildlc of the room, and now sal leaning equal in dignity, or otherwise', as the ca.se ( on her hand, watching the two at the fire, may be, the necessity of ministers wearing i Presently Irene approached and began to ex- surplico, or the contrary, as individual taste j amine the drawings, which wertj fVagiuenlary, dictates, we have vai-ious denominations, all I except one or two heads, and a sketch taken

MACARIA.

27

from Uic bank op()Osite the Fail8. After some moments passed in looking over them,- Irene addressed the quiet little figm*e.

" Have you been to Mi-. Clifton's studio ?"

" No ; who is he ?"

" An artist fi'om New York. His health is poor, and he is spending the ^vinter south. Have n't you heard of hira ? Everybody is having portraits taken. He is painting mine now — latker would make me sit again, liiough he has a likeness which wits painted four years ago. I am going down tu-morrow for my last silling, and should like vory much lor you to go witii me. Perhaps ]Mr. Ciitlon can give you some valuable hints. Will you go ?"

" With great pleasure."'

'' Then 1 will call for you a little before ten o'clock. Here ara some t:rayon.s I bought for you a week ago. Good-by."

She left (he room as quietly as she had entered, and. found Paragon waiting for her at the door. He gambolled before her all the way — now darting oif, and as suddenly re- turning, to throw himself at her feet, and wonder why she failed to earess him as usual. Other thoughts engaged her now ; she could see nothing but the form' of t/ie widow, and to-day she realized more than ever before how much she needed a motlier. Low, sweet, gen- tle tones rarely fell upon her ear, and; except her father and Dr. Arnold, no one h.ad ever attempted to earess her. She wearied of the fourteen years of isolation, and now on enter- ing her fifteenth looked about her for at least one coiigenial spirit. She knew of none but Electra and Mrs. Aubrey who in any degree eympatliized with her, and from tliese she was debarred by 'parental interdict. Miss Mar- garet, seconded Ijy Mr. Huntingdon, now constantly prescribed a course of conduct detectable to tin-, girl, who plainly perceived that as she grew older these diflerences in- creased. Was it her duty to submit unhesi- tatingly to their dictation? Did the command of filial obedience cmbraco all such matters, or was it modified — limited by the right of individual conscience V This consultation was long and patient, and the conclusion unalter- able. She would do what she believed to be E roper, v/hatever she thought her duty, at all azards. She had no one to guide her, and must rely only on God and her own heart.

Tlie (bllowing day Miss Margaret accom- panied her to the studio. As the carriage approaclied th(* cottage - gate Irene directed the driver to slop.

" For wjiat?" asked her aunt.

" Eleefra Grey is going with mc; I prom- ised to call for her. She has au extraordinary talent for ilrawing, and I waut to introduce her to Mr. Clilton. Open the door, Andrew."

" Irene, are. you deranjjed ! Your father never would furgivo yoil if he knew you asso- ciated with those people. I can't think of * allowing that girl to enter this carriage.

Drive on. I must really speak to Leonard about your obstinacy in visiting at that — "

" Stop, Andrew ! If you don't choose to ride with Electra, aunt ]\Iargaret, you may go on alone, for either she shall ride or I will walk with her."

Andrew opened the door, and she was stepping out, when Electra appeared in the walk'and immediately joined her. Miss Mar- garet was thoroughly aroused and indignant, but thouifht it best to submit for the time, and when Irene introduced her friend .she took no notice of her whatever, except by drawing herself up in one corner and lower- ing her veil. The girls talked during the remainder of the ride, and when they reached v Mr. Clifton's door ran np tiie steps together, totally unmindful of the august lady's ill humor.

The artist was standing before an easel which held Irene's unfinished portrait, and as he turned to greet his visitors Electra saw that, though thin and ])ale, his face was ono of rare beauty and benevolence. Ilis brown, curling hair hung loosely about his sliouUlers, and an iniconnnonly long beard of the same silky texture desceinled almost to his waist. He shook hands with Irene, .and looked in- quiringly at her eonij)anion.

"Mr. Clifton, this is Miss Electra Grey, whose drawings I mentioned to you last week. I wish, if you jjlease, you wouUl examine some of them when you have leisure."

Electra looked for an instant into his large, clear gray eyes as he took her drawings aud said he would be glad to assist her, and knew that henceforth the tangled path Avould be smoothed and widened. She stood at the back of Ilis chair during the hour's sitting, and with peculiar interest watched tiie strokes of his brush as the portrait grew undei\iiis prac- tised hand. When Irene rose, the orphan moved away and began to scrutinize the nu- merous pictures scattered about the room. A great joy filled her heart and illumined her face, and she waited for the words of en- couragement that she felt assured would be spoken. The artist looked over her sketches .slowly, carefully, and his eye went back to her brilliant counttjnanie, as if to read there answers to ciphers which perplexed him. But yet more balfliug cryptography met him in the deep, flashing, appealing eyes, on the crim- son, quivering lips, on the low, full brow, with its widely-separated black arches. Evidently the fact possessed far more attraction than the drawnigs, and he maile her sit down beside him, and passed his hand over her head and temples, as' a professed phrenologist might preparatory to rendering a chart. •

" Your sketches arc Tery rough, very crude, but they also display great power of thought ; some of them singular beauty of conception ; and I S(!C from your countenance that you are dissatisfied because the execution falls so fw

iS

MACARIA.

iliort of the {'•ncc'ption. l>ct me t.ilk to you candidly; you havf, uncommon talont, but the most exalted gonius ran not disp"i;?e with la- borious study. Michael Anpolo ntudi^d anat- om}- for twelve years; you will require lonpr and rarnest application brfore you can possi- bly aeoomjilish anytliingVf importance. . The study of Art is no mere pastime, as some people sup[iost.' ; an artist's life is an arduous ont* at best. I have been told somitliinjr of your his- tory; you are. verv poor, and wish to nuke paiiit.in<r a profession. Tiiink well before you decide this njatter; rcnicnilxM- that longr, tedious months must elapse before you. can hojie to execute even an ordinary portrait. You must acjpiaint yourself with the anatomy of the human system before you undertake anythinfi. I thouL'ht I hsd finished my course seven yenrs 330, but I went to Italy and soon saw th.U I had only l>eiiin to iearn my profe.-- sion. Think well of all this."

*' I have thoucrht of it ; I am willing to work any number of years: I have decided, and I am not to be frijihtened from my purpose. I am poor, I can barely buy the necessary ma- terials, mucli less the books, but I will be an artist yet. I have decided, sir; it is no new whim: it has been a bri</ht dream to me all my life, and I am determined to realize it."

"Amen; so let it he, then. I shall remain here some weeks lonL'cr ; come to me every day at ten o'clock, and I will instruct you. You shdl have such books as you need, and with j)crs(.'venince you have notliinfj to fi-ar."

lie wiMit into the adjoinincr room, and re- turned with a small volume. As he ;j;ave it to her, with .^ome directions concerning the con- t<}nts, she caught his hand to her lips, saying hastily:

"My guardian ani'el certainly brouj^ht you here to spend the winter. Oli, sir! I will prove my piatilude for your <joodness by show- ing that I ai!i not unworthy of it. 1 thank you from the >^'ry dejjths of my glad heart."

As she released his hand and left the studio he found two bright drops on his fingers, drops called forth by the most intense joy she had ever known. Having some commission from hev aunt, she did not re-enter the carriage-, and, after thanking Irene for her kindness, walked away. The riilc home was v^ry silent; Miss Margaret sat stilV and icy, looking quite insulted, while her niece was too much en- trrossed by other reflections to notice her. The latter spent the remainder of the morn- ing in writing to Hugh and correcting her French exercises, and \frhen summoned to dinner she entered the room expecting a storm. \ glance sufliced to show her that Miss Mnrgaret had not yet spoken to ber father; though it was evifient from her coun- tenance that she was about to make what she considereii an . important revelation. The meal passed, however, without any alltision to the subje4.'t, and, knowing what sht had to

expect. Irene immediately withdrew ^o the liJ)rary to give her aunt an opportunity ot unburdening her mind. The straggle must come some time, and she longed to have it over as soon as possible. She tlirew up the sash, seated herself on the broad cedar window-sill, and began to work out a sum in algebra. Nearly a half-hour passed; the slaimning o^ the dining-room door was like the first line of toam, curling and whit^'ning the sea when the tempest sweeps forward; her fatluT stauijied intg tlie library, and the storm broke over her.

"Irene! did n't I positively order you to keep away from that Aubrey family ? What do you mean by setting mo. at d fiance in this way, yoij wilful, spoiled, hard-headed piece? Do you suppose I intend tn put up with your obstlnaiy all my life, and let you walk rough- shod over me and my <ommauds ? You have queened it long enough, my lady. If I don't rein you up, you will turn your aunt and me out of the house next, and invite that precious Aubrey crew to take possession, "lour con- founded stubbornness will ruin you yet. You deserve a good whipping, miss ; I can hardly keep my hands oflT of you."

He did not; rough hands seized her shoul- ders, jerked her irom the window-sill, and shook her violently. Down fell book, slate, and pencil with a i^rash ; down swept the heavy hair, blindinir her. She put it back, folded her hands behind her as if tor support, and, looking up at him, said in a low, stt-ad)*, yet grieved tone :

" I am very sorrj' you arc angry with mc, father."

" Devilish sorry, I dare say ! Don't bo hyp- ocTitcal ! Did n"t I tell you to keep away from tho.sc people ? Don't stand there like a block of stone ; answer me !"

"Yes, sir; but I diil not promise to do so. I am not hypocritical, father." • " You did not promise, indeed ! What do I care for promises V It was your •Jul v to obey me."

" I don't think it was, father, when you re- fused to give me any reason for avoiding Mrs. Aubrey or her family. They are unfijrtunate, but honorable people; and, being very poor and atllicted, I felt sorry for them. I can't see how my going there occasionally harms you, or mi", or .mybody else. I know wry well that you dislike, them, but you never told me why, and I can not inir^gine any good reason tor it. Father, if I love them, why should not I associate with them ?"

" Because I say you sliant ! jou tormenting, headstrong little imp !"

" My^father, that is no reason.'

" Reason ! I will put you when; you will hf-vve no occasion for ■ reasons. Oh ! I can match you, you perve..-:? little wretch ! I am going to send you to a boarding-school, do you hear that? send you where you^ill have no Aubreys to abet your obstinacy and di.'iobo-

MACAPJA.

29

dience ; where that temper of yours can be curbed. How will you relish getting up be- fore (lay, kindling your own fire, if you have any, making your own bed, and living on bread and "water? I will take you to New York, and keep you there till'^-bu are grown and learn common sense. Now get out of my 8igl)t!"

"With a stamp of rage, he pointed to the door. Hitherto she had stood quite still, but

anxious, like all weak natures, to hang on something sturdy. Irene usually revelled amid this wealth of floral beauty, but now she could not enjoy it. She looked at her favor- ites, and understood what was meant by the M'ords —

•■ T seo them all so exceriontl.v fair, 1 SCO, not feel, li«w beautiful they are.''

The first groat grief of her life had fnlleii

now 'an expression of anguish passed swiftly oxx her; heretofore all had been so serene, so over her face, and fhe put out her hands ap- Howory, that she could not, ea.^dy understand oealiii'dv ' t or endure the crushing weight on her heart.

pe

" Fatlicr ! my father ! don't send me away ! Please let me stay at home."

" Not if I live long enough to. take you. Just as c^^rtainly as the sun shines in heaven, yon will go as soon as your ch)tiiC3 can be made. Your aunt will have you ready in a week. Don't open your mouth to me ! I don't want to he.ar another word from you^ Take yourself oftV

She picked up her slate and book and left thg'i-oum. Her hat hung on the rack in the dia'.'i, and, taking it down, she passed out through the rear piazza. Paragon leaped and wiiined at sight of her; she unchained him, and, leaving the yard, turned into a nar- row zigzag path, leading in an opposite direc- tion from' the front of the house. The build- ing stood on (juite a hill, one side of which sloped down to the back of a cj-eek that emp- tied itself into the river a^ mile above the town. This declivity was thickly wooded, and, on the 0])posite side of the stream, a dcn.se swamp stretched away. Cypress, pine, beech, magiiolias towered far as the eye could I'each, and now, in the gathering gloom of ovening, looked sombre and solemn. This was a favorite haunt of Irene's ; she knew erery nook of the forest and bend of the orcck as well €as the shy rai)bit« that flitted •way at her approach; and, on this occasion, »he sought a rude, seat, formed by the inter- lacing of two wild grape-vines. At her feet thf. channel ran deep and strong, and the ro<.'ky bed was distinctly seen ; nut a few

Reared in seclusion, the thought of being sent from her beautiful, lu.Kuriuus home, and thrust among utter strangers, startled and tilled her with dread. She was astonished, ])aincd, and mortified by her father's har.-jh language ; and, loving him very sincerely, she shrank from the long separation he threatened ; yet, amid all these complex emotions, she felt not the slight- est regret for the course she had pursued ; under similar circumstances she would again act just as she ha<l done. Then came the re- meinbrance that she might meet her unfor- tunate friends no more. j\Irs. Aubrey waa evidently declining rapidly, and what woidd become of .Electra and Russell ? They n-.ight move away; they, too, might die; nay, sh« might «ever come back to the honn; of her birth ; death's harvest was in all season.s, and, looking upon the lakelet, she shudJered and moaned. The snowy water-lilies glanctnl up a; her, and seemed to say, as they trembled unceasing:ly in the current far below the sur- face, " bend ! bend 1" A pa.s3agc in Dante. which she had read the week belbre, crossed her mind now, as she noted the constant swaying of the fragile flowers, so impotent to resist that under-current sweeping their root*:

■ No other plant.

Covered with leoves, or bardoned in its silaik, Th«?re lives, not banding w> Iho water' i< sway."

He had selected reeds a^ a type of paticniio, but the pale, pure, quivering lilies were to her a far more" impressive symbol of resignation. An aged gnarled i-ypress towered above hor,

yards ofT the stream widened into a small j and from the knotted limb."! drooped long ]ake, and there, on its dark, still surface ! funeral wreaths of gray moss, thittering mourn- luasses of wal^r-lilies spread out their broad, j fully in tho evening wind, like badges of crapn green, flossy leave*. It was a lonely place; , in houses of death. From amid this sombro even in the day owls hooted one to another, \ drapery came the lonely hoot of an owl, and, and siraftgf, harsh T;rie9 were heard from birds I with a strange sensation of desolation, tene that never forsook the swamp. It was April, j fell on her knees and committed herinMf to early April, and from the hill-siile, fringed with the care of the Great Shepherd. Darknesj honcy.«u<klcs of varied huu, and festooned with closed around, but as she prayed the silver yellow jasmine that clambered in wild luxuri- rays of the evening «tar peered down through ance over tree and shrub, the southern breeze ' the trembling streamers of mcMS, and glQained wafted spicy, intoxicating aromas. Redbuds on the upturned face. Slic broke one of the

lifU'd their rosy limbs again.st dark, polished inHgnolia.s, and here and there masses of snow

liUes, and, fastening it among her curls, ibll.)i

iUes,

cd Paragon up the hill-.sidri. The week which

told where the dogwoods grew. Clusters of succeeded was wretched to the girl, for her TJoleta embroiflrreJ the hill-sfide, and crimson ' father's sun^eillaucc jircvcnted her from visit- woodbine trailed over the ground, catching at ' ing the cottage, wven to say adieu to it.- in- eTery droojtlng bough, and alimbing stealthily, mates ; and no altcrnatiTo presented itself bul

30

MACARIA.

to leave for them (in the hanrls of Nellie, her devoted nurse) a note containinj a few part- ing words and as.snrani-e.'? of unfadintr friend- ship and reun-mhranfe. The day of di-parture dawnrd rainy, gloomy, .and the wind sobbed and waikd down tlie avenue as Irene stood at her window, looking out on the lawn whx^re her life had been passed. Although Nellie was weeping bitterly at her side, she had not she.d a tear; but the face was full of grief, and her little hand.< were clasped tiglitly as the faithful nurse pressed them aile tionatcly in her palms. Disengaging h(;rself, Frene took an umbrella and went to the stable for a last look at Erebus. This tried her sorely, and her Hp was unsteady wiien she left him and sought Paragon. The Jatter, little su.''pecting the true state of afTains, gambolled and whined lis joyou.sly as ever at Iht approaeh: and, when the <TOwned head went down moaning- ly on his silky neek, he bark<-d and frisked in recognition of the caress. The breakfast-bell fiummoned her away, and, a half-hour after, she saw the lofty colinnns of the old house fad(! from view, and kiie\r that many months, perhai>s years, mu?t elapse before the ancestral trees of the long avenue would wave^a^ain over the head of their young mistress. Her father sat beside her, moody and silent, and, when the brick wall and arched iron gate •vanished from her sight, she sank back in one corner, and, covering her face witli her hands, smothered a groan, and fought desperately with her voiceless anguish.

CHAPTER VI.

Youth is hopeful, beautifully hopeful, and fresh, pure hearts rebound ivmn sorrow with wonderful elasticity. When cloud.s lower and the way seems dark and tangled hope (lies forward, pioneer-like, to clear away all obsta- cles. Huge barriers frowaeil between Electra and the lieightK she strained tivery nerve to reach, but never for an inslant did" she doubt the success of the strug^ile. J.ike Orpheus seeking Eurydice, to look back was fearful and liazardous; and fixing h(!r eycis steadily on the future, she allowed herself no haunting foreboding.

"Cry, fiiint not! cliiiili Ihn mimniil's slope Hityoiifl the fiirthcBt OiKlitu of liope. AVnipt in Ueuse cloud fiyuj bime to copo."

What human powers can , endure and^ ac- complish is to be measured only by the neces- sity which goads, and all heivulean trophies are won by desperate needs. 'I'he laws which govern our moral and intellectual natures arc as rigid and inevitable in their operation as those v,-hose workings we constantly trace in the physical world; of which truth the histoiy of nations and memoirs of great men furnish innumerable exempli/ications. Consequently,

j it is both unjust and illogical to judge of the probability of this or that event' or .series of j event.s. or the naturalness of this or that char- j acter, whether in authenticated history or fic- titious works, without a thorough acipiiintance I with all antecedents, and the various relations : surrounding the actor. Reader, as you walk ' side by side with these whose lives I am nar- rating, bear this in mind — the .«ilvcr-winged , pigeons that flath in and out of the venerable j trees shailing the old homi-stead, and coo and ! flutter amid the raiiibow spray of the fountain, J would dmoj), shiver, and die' on bald, awful [ Aljjine pinnacles, where in tht fierce howl and scourging of temjiests eagleti' wheel in [ triumph, and scream defiantly; and tender pet lambs, coaxed into flowery," luxuriant mead- ows, would soon make their graves in the I murderous snow over which young chamois ] bleat and skip in wild glee, fearless as the ' everlasting hills.

j Day after day Electra toiled over her work ; I the (lelicate frame learned its destiny, sighed ! at its future, but grew strong; and c'ompTain- ^ iiig nerves, catching some of her iron resolve, ! endured patiently — became finally thoroughly inured to their arduous duties. Her aunt constantly claimed her attention for the vari- ous little offices so grateful to an invalid, but by an extraordinary alchemy ^he contrived to convert every interruption into an occasion of profit. If lending her arm to support the (hooping form in a »hort walk around the little garden, she would describe the vary- ing tints of sky. a« the clouds shilVed their gor- geous curtains oi' purj^e and scarlet and gold, until thoroughly familiarized with the varied chameleon hues and strange, grotesque out- lines traced by every rifl. Nature was a vast storehouse of inatchle»s, unapproachable beauty to that eager, thirsty soul — a boundless studio, filled with wonderful creations, open to V her at all times— in the rosy, opaline flush of niormng, the blazing splendor of full-orbed noon, the silver gray of twilight, peopled with dusky phantoms, wcinl and shifting as Fata- Morgana— the still sublimity, the solemn, sa- cred witchery of •star-erowned, immemorial Night. She answered the first hoarse call of thunder by stationing herself at the window to watch the stormy panorama sweep over the heavens; and not Ruysdael, nor Vaudcrvelde, iior Turner ever gazed with more intense de- light on the hurrying masses of vapor than that fragile girl, as sh'e stood with the forked light- ning glaring luridly over her upturned, enrap- tured face. Favored ones of fortune lean ' against marble pillars in royal museums, to stufly the imperishable; works of earth's grand- est ol<l artists; but she lived in a cosmopolitan temple, whose skyey frescos were fresh from the hands of Jeliovah himself. The rapidity of h<!r progress astonished Mr. Clifton. Ho (juestioned her concerning the processes she employed in some of her curious combinations.

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but the frnjimentary, abstracted nabire of her conversation during the hours of instruction gave him little satisfactory information. His' interest in her increased, until finally it be- came absorbinji;, and he gave her all the time that she could spare from home. The eager- ness with which she listened to his directions, 'the facility witli which she applied his rules, fully ^repnid him ; and from day to day he post- poned his return to the North, reluctant to leave his indefatigable pupil. Now and then the time of departure was fixed, but ere it ar- rived he wavered and procrastinated.

Electra km^w that his stay had been pro- longed beyond his original intention, and she dreaded tiie hour when she should be de- prived of his aid and advice. Though their acquaintance had been so short, a strangely strong feeling had grown up in her heart toward Inm ; a feeling of clinging tenderness, blended with earnest, undying gratitude. She knew that he understood iicr character and apprc(;iatod her struggles, and it soothed her fierce, proud heart, in some degree, to receive from him those tokens of constant remem- brance which she so yearned to have from Russell. She felt, too, that she was not re- garded as a stranger by the artist ; she could see his sad eyes brighten at her entrance, and detect the tremor in his hand and voice when he spoke of going home. Plis health had improved, and the heat of summer had come; why did he linger? His evenings were often spcut at the (!ottage, and even Mrs. Aubi-ey learned to smile at the sound of his step.

One morning as Electra- finished her lesson and rose to go, he said slawly, as if watching the efl'ect of his words :

" This is the last hour I can give you. In two days i return to New York. Letters of importance came this morning; I have waited here too long already."

" Are you in earnest this time ?"

" I am ; it is absolutely Ui^essary that I should return home."

" Mr. Clifton, what shall I do without you ?"

" Suppose you had never seen me '/"

" Tiien I should not h;ive had to lose you. Oh, sir ! I need you very much."

" Electra, child, you will conquer your difS- cultic without as.sistance from auy one. You have notiiiug to fear."

" Yes, I know I shall conquer at last, but the way would bo so much easier if you were only wilii me. I ghall m^ss you i^orc than I can titW you."

He pas>;ed his hand over her short shining hair, and mused 'for a moment as if laying confll'ting I motions in the balance. She heard his de.^p, labored breathing, and saw the working of the muscles in his pale face; when he spokH, his voice was husk}':

" Voii .'re right; you need me, and I want you always with me; we must not be parted. Electra, 1 ;--^y we shall not. Come to me, put

your hands in mine — promise me that you will be my child, my pupil ; I will take you to my mother, and we need never be separated. Y'^ou require aid, such as can not be liad here ; in New York you shall' have all that you want. Will you come with me?"

He held her hands in a vice-like grasp, and

[ looked pleadingly into her astonished counte- nance. A uifst gathered before her, and she closed her eyes.

" Electra, will you come ?" " Give me ten minutes to think," she an- swered .'<liivcringly. He turned away and walked \ip and down the floor, taking care to conceal hi.s facr. She sat down before a table and dropped her- forehead in her palms.

I What slight things often shap<; human des-

I tiny ; how little people realize the conse- quences of seemingly trivial words, looks, or actions ? The day before Electra would un- hesitatingly have declined this proposition; but only that morning, as she passed Rus- sell's door before breakfast,' she saw him with Irene's farewell note in his hand ; saw him

j press his lips hastily to the signature. Her jealous heart was on fire; the consciousness of his love lor another rendered her reckless and indescribably miserable. In this mood she reflected ; 'Mr. Clifton seemed to have

I become warmly attached to her, and could help her to attain the eminence she had in view ; she was poor, why not accept his gen- erous olTer? Russell would not miss her — would not care whether ghe left him or re- mained. If she were far alway, at least she would not be tormented by his coldness and indiifcrcnce. Tiie future (barring her ambi- tious dreams) was dim, joyless ; she had to earn a support, she S(!orned tM h<; dep*'ndent on her cousin, fame lured her on. Y\'.s, she wonld go.' Mr. Clifton took out his watch and paused beside her :

" Ten minutes have passed ; Electra, will you com(^ ?"

She raised her bloodless face, stamped with stern resolve, and ere the words were pro- nounced he read his answer in the d"fiant gleam of her eyes, in the hard, curved lines of the mouth.

"Mr. Clifton, I can not go with you just now, for at present I can not, ought not, to lea.ve my aunt. Helpless as she is, it would be cruel, ungrateful, to desert her ; but things can not continue this wa}' much longer, and I promise you that as soon as I can I will go to you. I want to be with you; I want somc- lindy to care for me, and 1 know you will be a kind friend always. Most gratefully will I accept your gentrous ofler so soon as I feel that I can do .so."

He stooped, and touched her forehead with his lips.

"My dear Electra,! will shield you from

' trials and difficulties; I will prize you above everything on earth ; I know you are making

32

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a firoat sacrifice to Ix* with mc

hani it i>i tor you to leave home and relatives

But, ID}' fJiild, your aunt li.u only a short folds of

I know how I drn d lo t;ie anjiraachinj^ shores of another rcahn, and she thanked (nxl that thou£ih tliick

darkness shrouded earth, the veil time to live; she is failing very fast, r.nd your ' dropped from her soul and the ypirirualaigion duty to her w 111 not keep you here lon;j;. You j;rew elear and piereinp. If faith and resijj- are lijjht to lemain witii her, but when she i nation could be tauj^ht like niussie or .uith- needs you no Miora I ^IJall expert yoii to eomti ■ metie, tlien had Eleetra learned the <:randest to me in New York. Aleauliine, I yhall write | truths of Christianity; but it is a mournful to you fre<iuently, and sujiply you with uneh ; faet that the bloody Heal of Experience raust books and materiab as you require. My i stamp the lesson ere deep thinker.* or strong pupil, 1 long to have you in my own home, nalure.s receive it, and as she watclied that k<:uu'.mber, no matter what happens, you have precious life fade, like the purple li;iht of proutised yourself to me." summer in evening skies, the only fceliu" she

'•I shall not forget;" but he saw her shud- knew was that of }j;ricf for the impending der. ' ' loss-r-undefined apprehension of commg iso-

" Shall I s]«cak to your aunt about this lation. If Mrs. Anbrey could have seen the matter before J go ?" I countenance which bent over her pillow, her

*• No, it would only distress her; leave it all .serene soul would have been painfully dis- with nw. It is late, and 1 must go. Good.- turbed. She felt hot tears fall on herhands by. sir." ' and cheeks, and knew that the lips which

He promised to sec her again before his de- pressed hers often tiembled; but this seemed

Eariure, anrl she walked home witk her head natural enough uiider the cireumslances, and owed and a sharp continual pain gnawing at she sank quietly down to the edge of the Uer heart. tomb ignorant of the sorrows that racked the

In the calm, peaceful years of ordinary i girl's heart. One juorning when Mv. Cam{>- chiljliood, the .foul matures slowly; but a bell, the pastor, had spent some time in the vol< auie nature like Electra's, subjected to | sick-room praying with the suflerer, and ad- galllng trials, rapidly hardens, and answers I ministering the sacrament of the Lord's j<up- every stroke with the metallic ring of age. ; per, Electra followed hipi to the door, leaving Keen susceptibility to joy or pain taught her llussell with his mother. The gentle pastor early what less impressive characters are took her hand kindly, and lookeil at her with yeais in learning, and it was lamentably true filling eyes.

that, while yet a mere girl, she sulFered as " You think niy aunt is worse ?" .acutely as a woman. The battle of life must " Y'es, my child. I think that very sum be" I'uught, and if one begins .skirmishing in she will be with her God. She will siarcely the ( r.idle, tactics are soon learned, and the survive till night — "

conllict. ends more speedily. But Electra She turned abruptly from him, and threw had also conned another less^on: to lock her j herself down across the foot of the bed, biiry- troubles in her own heart, voicing no com- i ing her face in her arms. Jiussell sat with piainL, and when she sought her aunt, and \ his mother's hands in his, while she turned her r^Kid aloud the favorite chapters in the Bible, , brow.n eyes toward him, and exhorleti him to or led her up and down the garden-walk, \ eonunit himself and his future to the hands of talking of various things, telling of the growth j a mei'cilul GfKl. She told him how the prom- of pet plants, there was no indii;ation what- ! ises of the Saviour had supported and <,heer»>d eve'- oi' any unusual strife or extraordinary ' her in limfts of great need, and inqilored him occurrence. ' Russell knew that a change had to dedicate his energies, his talents, iiis life, t« come over his lou.^in, Lut was to6 constantly [ the service of his Maker. El'-etra was not eiig.igeil, too entirely absoi^jed by his studies, i forgotten ; she advised her to go to a cousin of to ask or analyze the cause. She never i her mother residing in Virginia. Long before watched at the gate lor him now, never i she had written to this lady, inlbrnung her of sprang with outstretched arms to meet him, !4ier own fi'cbleness and of the girl's lielplcM never hung over the back of his chkir and I condition ; and a kind answer had b(!en re- eare!-?ed his hands as formerly. When not j turned, cordially inviting the or]'l)an to sliar« wailing upon her aunt she was as intent ' her home, to become an inmate of her house, on her books as he, and, though invariably : Kd.ssell could take llir to these relatives as kind aad unselfish in her conduct toward j soon as possible. To all this no reply waa. him, slie was evidently constrained in his pres- j made, and, a few moments later, when llus- ence. As the summer wore on Mrs. Aubrey's ■ sell kissed her tenderly and raised her pillow, health failed rapidly, and she was confined to her cou<li. There, in a low chair close to the pillow, .sat Electra reading, talking, exerting herstif to the utmost to cheer the widow. She Tilled the thin fingers with dewy

she said faintly-

" W I could look upon your face once more, my son, it would not be hard to die. Let me see you in heavwi, my dear, dear boy." These were the last words, and soon af^er a stupor

and expatiated on the glories of the outer I fell upon her. Hour after hour passed; Mrs.

world, while the thoughts of the invalid wau- | Campbell came and sat beside the bod, and

roses.

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SS

the three remained silent, now and then lift- ing bowed heads to look at the sleeper. Not a sound broke the stillness save the occasional chirp of a cricket, and a shy niouse crept twice across the floor, wondering at the silence, fixing its twinkling bright eyes on the motionless figures. The autumn day died slowly as the Avidow, and when the clock dirged out the sunset hour Russell rose, and, putting back the window -curtains, stooped and laid his face close to his mother's. Life is at best a struggle, and such perfect repose as greeted liim is found only when the marble hands of Death transfer the soul to its guar- dian angel. No pulsation stirred the folds over the heart, or the soft bands of hair on the blue-veined temples; the still mouth had breathed its last sigh, and the meek brown ej'es had opened in eternity. The long, fierce ordeal liad ended, the flames died out, and from smouldering ashes the purified spirit that had toiled and fainted not, that had been faithful to the end, patiently bearing many crosses, heard the voice of the Great Shep- herd, and soared joyfully to the pearly gates of the Everlasting Home. The day boi'e her away on its wings, and as Russell touched the icy cheek a despairing cry rolled thi-ough the silent cottage —

" Oh, mother! my own precious dead moth- er !"

Falling on his knees, he laid his head on her pillow, and when kind friendly hands bore her into the adjoining room, he knelt there still, un(;onscious of what passed, knowing only that the keenest of many blows had fallen, that the last and bitterest vial of sor- rows had been emptied.

Night folded her starry curtains around the earth ; darkness settled on river and hill and valley. It was late September; autumn winds rose, eager for their work of death, and rushed rudely through the forests, shaking the sturdy primeval monarchs in token of their mission and mastery ; and shivering leaves rustled down before them, drifting into tiny grave-like hillocks. Gradually the" stars caught the contagious gloom, and shrank be- hind the cloud-skirts sweeping the cold sky. It was a solemn, melancholy night, full of dreary phantom*, presaging a dark, dismal morrow. Amy Aubrey's still form reposed on the draped table in the kitchen, and the fitful candle-light showed only a dim, rigid outline of white linen. Mr. Campbell and his wife sat together in the next room, and the two young mourners were left in the silence of the kitchen. Russell sat at the open window, near the table ; his head leaned on his hand, tearless, mute, still as his mother. At the op- posit(! window stood Electra, pressing her face against the frame, looking out into the moan- I ing, struggling night, striving to read the 1 mystic charact-ers dimly traced on the asli-grav i hurrying cloadK hm the recklew winds parted 1 S

their wan folds. The stony face of her mer- ciless destiny seemed to frown down at her, cold, grim, Sphinx-like. Hitherto she had walked with loved ones; now a vast sepulchre yawned to receive them ; a tomb of clay for the quiet sleeper, one of perhaps final separa- tion for Russell, and over this last hideous chasm Hope hovered with drooping wings. To leave him was like inurning her heart and all the joy she had ever known ; and then, to crown her agony, a thousand Furies hissed " Irene will come back, and loving her he will forget that you toil among strangers."

She crushed her fingers against each other and stifled a groan, while the chilling voice of Destiny added : " trample out this weakness, your path and his here separate widely ; you are nothing to liim, go to work earnestly, and cease repining." She shrank away from the window, and approached her cousin. For two hours he had not changed his position ; as far as she knew, had not moved a muscle. She sat down at his feet and crossed her arms over his knees ; he took no notice of her.

" Oh, Russell ! say something to me, or I shall die."

It was the last wail she ever suffered to 'es- cape her in his j)resence. He raised liis head anil put his hand on her forehead, but the trem- bling lips refused their office, and as she looked up at him tears rolled slowly down and fell on her cheek. She would have given worlds to mingle her tears with his, but no moisture came to her burning eyes; and there these two, so soon to separate, passed the remaining hours of that long wretched night of watch- ing. The stormy day lifted her pale, mourn- ful face at last, and with it came the dreary patter and sobbing of autumn rain, making it doubly harrowing to commit the precious form to its long, last resting-place. Electra stood up beside her cousin and folded her arms to- gether.

" Russell, I am not going to that cousin in Virginia. I could owe my bread and clothes to you, but not to her. She has children, and I do not intend to live on her charity. I know you and I must part ; the sooner the better. I would not be willing to burden you a day longer. I am going to fit myself to work prof- itably. Mr. Clifton ^ofTered me a home in his house, said his mother was lonely, and would be rejoiced to have me ; that letter which I received last week contained one from her, also urging me to come ; and, Russell, I am going to New York to study with him as long as I need instruction. I did not tell aunt of this, because I knew it would grieve her to think that I would be thrown with strangers ; and having fully determined to take this step, thought it best not to distress her by any allu- sion to it. You know it is my own affair, and I can decide it better than any one else."

His eyes were fixed on the shrouded table, and he answerud without lookiu'; at bar :

• /

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" No, Electra, you must go to Mrs. Harden ; she seems anxious to have you; and as for being dependent on charity, you never shall be, so long as I live. You will merely re.side imder her roof, and shall not cost her a cent; leave this with me."

" I can not leave it with any body ; I must depend upon myself. I have thought a great deal about it, and my resolution is not to be shaken. You have been very kind to me, Russell, all my life; and only God knows how I love and thank you. But I Avill not accept your hard earnings in future ; I should be mis- erable unless at work, and I tell you I must and will go to Mr. Clifton."

He looked at her now, surprised and pained.

" What is the matter with you, Electra V Have I not sorrovTs enough, that you must try to add another by your obstinacy ? What would she think of you V"

He rose, and laid his hand on the pure smooth brow of the dead.

" There is nothing new the matter with me. 1 have determined to go; nobody has any right to control uie, and it is worse than use- less for you to oppose me. We have but little time to spend together, do not let us quarrel here in her presence. Let there be peace be- tween us in these last hours. Oh, Russell I it is hard enough to part, even in love and kind- ness ; do not add painful contention."

" So you prefer utter strangers to your rela- tives and friends ?"

" Ties of blood are not the strongest ; stran- gers step in to aid where relatives sometimes stand aloof, and watch a fatal struggle. Re- member Irene ; who is nearer to you, she or your grandfather? Such a friend Mr. Clif- ton is to me, and go to him I will at all haz- ards. Drop the subject, if you please."

He looked at her an instant, then turned once more to his mother's face, and his cou&in left them together.

The day was so inclement that only Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and Russell's emi)loyer attended the funeral. These few followed the gentle sleeper, and laid her down to rest till the star of eternity dawns; and the storm chanted a long, thrilling requiem as the wet mound rose above the cofFm.

Back to a deserted home, whence the crown of joy has been borne. What a hideous rack stands at the hearth-stone whereon merciless memory stretches the bereaved ones. In hours such as this, we cry out fiercely : " The sun of our life has gone down in starless, everlasting night; earth has no more glory, no more bloom or fragrance for us ; the voices of glee- ful children, the carol of summer birds, take the mournful measure of a dirge. We hug this great grief to our hearts; we hold our darling dead continually before us, and refuse to be glad again." We forget that Prome- theus has passed from the Avorld. Time bears precious healing on its broad pinions; folds

its arms compassionately about us as a pitying father; sortly binds up the jagged wounds, drugs memory, and though the poisonous sting is occasionally thrust forth, she soon relapses into stupor. So in the infinite mercy of our God, close at the heels o!" Azrael, follow the winged liours laden, like Sisters of Charity, with balm for the people.

The kind-hearted pastor and his wife urged the orphans to remove to their house for a few days at least, until the future could be mapped ; but they preferred to meet and bat- tle at once with the spectre which they knew stood waiting in the desolate cottage. At midnight a heavy sleep fell on Russell, who had thrown himself upon his mother's couch ; and, softly spreading a shawl over him, Elec- tra sat down by the dying fire on the kitchen hearth and looked her future in the face. A few days sufiiced to prepare for her journey ; and a gentleman from New York, who had met her cousin in Mr. Campbell's office, con- sented to take charge of her, and commit her to Mr. Clifton's hands. The scanty furniture was sent to an auction-room, and a piece of board nailed to the gate-post announced that the cottage was" for rent. Russell decided to take his meals at a boarding-house, and oc- cupy a small room over the office, which Mr. Campbell had placed at his disposal. On the same day, the cousins bade adieu to the only spot they had called " home " for many years, and as Russell locked the door and joined Electra, his melancholy face expressed, far better than words could have done, the pain it cost him to quit the house where his idolized mother had lived, suffered, and died. Mr. Colton was waiting for Electra at the hotel, whither the stage had been driven for pas- sengers ; and as she drew near and saw her trunk among others piled on top, she stopped and grasped Russell's hand between both hers. A livid paleness settled on her face, while her wild black eyes fastened on his features. She might never see him again; he was far dearer to her than her life; how could she bear to leave him, to put hundreds of miles between that face and her own ? An icy hand clutched her heart as she gazed into his decj), sad, beautiful eyes. His feel- ing for her was a steady, serene affection, such as brothers have for dear young sisters, and to give her up now filled him with genu- ine, earnest sorrow.

" Electra, it is very hard to tell you good- by. You are all I have left, and I shall( be' desolate indeed %vhen you are away. But the separation will not be long, I trust ; in a few years we shall be able to have another home; and where my home is, yours must always be. Toil stretches before me like a sandy desert, but I shall cross it safely ; and. then, Electra,' my dear cousin, we shall be parted no more. I should feel far better sat- isfied if you were with Mrs. Harden, but yoa

MACARIA.

35

determined otherwise, and, as you told me a few days ago, I Lave no right to control you. Write to me often, and believe that I shall do all that a brother could for you. Mr. Colton is waiting; good-by, darling."

He bent down to kiss her, and the strained, tortured look that greeted him he never for- got. She put her arms around his neck, and clung to him like a shivering weed driven by rough winds against a stone wall. He re- moved her clasping arms, and led her to Mr. Colton; but as the latter offered to assist her into the stage, she drew back, that Russell might perform that office. Wliile he almost lifted her to a seat, her fingers refused to release his, and he was forced to disengage them. Other passengers entered, and the door was closed. Russell stood near the window, and said gently, pitying her suffering :

" Electra, wont you say good-by ?"

She leaned out till her cheek touched Iiis, and in a hoarse tone uttered the fluttering words :

"Oh, Russell! Russell! good-by! May God have mercy on me !"

And the stage rolled swiftly on ; men laughed, talked, and smoked ; an October sun filled the sky with glory, and gilded the trees on the road-side ; flame-colored leaves flashed in the air as the wind tossed them before it ; the deep, continual thunder of the foaming falls rose soothingly from the river banks, and a wretched human thing pressed her bloodless face against the morocco lining of the coach,

Id stared down, mute and tearless, into the ic grave of her all —

"Fresh as the first be.tm glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up fri)ni the under world; Sad as tlie last which reddens over one That ginks with all wo lovo below the verge, So gad, 80 fresh, the days that are no more."

CHAPTER VH.

As tall tyrannous weeds and i-ank unshorn grass close over and crush out slender, pure, odorous flowerets on a hill-side, so the defects of Irene's character swiftly strengthened and developed in the new atmosphere in which she found herself. All the fostering stimulus of a hot-bed seemed applied to them, and her nobler impulses were in imminent danger of being entirely subdued. Diogenes Tenfels- drtickh's " Crim Tartary Enclosure of a High Seminary" is but the prototype of hundreds, scattered up and down through Christendom ; and the associations which surrounded Irene were well calculated to destroy the native purity and unselfishness of her nature. The »'hool wns on an extensive scale, thoroughly fashionable, and thither pupils were sent from every section of the United States. As re- garded educational advantages, the institution was unexceptionable ; the professors were con-

sidered unsurpassed in their several depart- ments, and evpry provision was made for thorough tuition. But what a Babel reigned outside of the recitation-room. One hundred and forty girls to spend their recesses in envy, ridicule, malice, and detraction. -The homely squad banded in implacable hatred against those whom nature had cast in moulds of beauty ; the indolent and obtuse ever on the alert to decry the successful efforts of their superiors ; the simply-clad childreh of parents in straightened circumstances feeding their discontent by gazing with undisguised envy at the richly-apparalled darlings of fortune ; and the favored ones sneering at tliese unfor- tunates, pluming themselves on wealth, beauty, intellect, as the case might be ; growing more arrogant and insufferable day by daV. A wretched climate this for a fresli, untainted soul; and it is surprising how really fond parents, anxious to promote the improvement of their daughters in every respect, hasten to place them where poisonous vapors wreathe and curl about them. The principals of such institutions are doubtless often conscientious, and strive to discharge their duty faithfully ; but the evils of human nature are obstinate, diflicult to subdue under even the most favor- able auspices; and where such a mass of un- trained souls are turned into an enclosure, to amuse themselves at one another's expense, mischief is sure to follow. Anxious to shake off the loneliness which so heavily oppressed her, Irene at first mingled freely among her companions ; but she soon became disgusted with the conduct and opinions of the majority, and endeavored to find quiet in her own room. Maria Ashley, who shared the apartment, was the spoiled child of a Louisiana planter, and her views of life and duty were too utterly antagonistic to Irene's to allojv of any pleasure in each other\s society. To cheat the profes- sors by ingenious stratagems, and to out-dress her companions, seemecl the sum total of the girl's aspirations ; and gradually, in lieu of the indifference she evinced toward her room- mate, a positive hatred made itself apparent in numberless trifles. Feeling her own supe- riority, Irene held herself more and more aloof; her self-complacency grew amazingly, the graceful figure took a haughty, unbending posture, and a coldly contemptuous smile throned itself on her lip. The inevitable con- sequence was, that she became a target for the school. Thus the months crept away, her father wrote rarely, and !Miss Margaret's let- ters contained no allusion to the family that had caused her banishment. Finally she wrote to Dr. Arnold, incjuiring concerning Mrs. Aubrey, but no reply reached her. Early in winteira new pupil, a "day scholar," joined her class ; she resided in New York, and very soon a strong friendship sprang up between them. Louisa Young was about Irene's age, very pretty, very gentle, and winning in her

MACARIA.

•hildren as

parents who strove to rear tln.-ir cli Christian i)arents should. Ix)uis.V!i menta were very warm anil lastinjr, and ore long she insisted that her friciul should visit Weary of the s<'hool, the latter gladlj-

manners. She was the daui»htcr of an aflluent | asked you whether it was snowing out of merchant, and was blessed in the posscapion oflj doors."

" Which is certainly the fact ; the first (lakes fell as I reached home."

He stepped to the window and looked out, saying carelessly — hen Weary of the s<'hool, the latter gladly I " Go to your friend, and when you are at a availed herself of the invitation, and one Fri- | loss for conversation, bring her to my study to day afternoon she aci'orapanied Louisa home. I see tho.se sketehos of Palmyra and Haalbee." The man.sion was almost j)alatial, and as Irene I lie passed on to his work, and she to the entered the splendidly-furnished parlors her i sitting - room. Tiie study was simply thu own Southern home rose vividly iK'fore her. library, handsomely fittcil up with choice old " Mother, this is Miss Huntingdon." I books in richly-carved rosewood cases, and

Mrs. Young reii-ivfil her cordially, and a,s I antique bust« peering down from the tops of she held the gloveil hand, and kindly e.xiiress- | each. Crimson damask curtains swept from ' ' " " the ceiling to the carpet, and a luxurious arm-

chair sat before the glowing coal fire. The table was covered with books, and loose sheets of paper were scattered around, as if the oc- cupant had been suddenly called from his labor. The gas burned brightly; all things beckoned back to work. He sat down, glanced over the lulf-written sheets, number- ed the pages, laid them away in the drawer, and opened a volume of St. Chrysostom. As the light fell on liis countenance, it was very ajiparent that he had been a student for years; that his mind was habituated to patient, labor- ious investigation. (Jravity, uttt-rly free from keeps bimV There he is now, in the hall," I sorrow or sternness, marked his face; he might' answered the mother, i i have pa.ssed all his days in that (juiet room,

A moment after, he entered and took his I for any impress which the cares or joys of out- seat. He was tall, rather handsome, and look- \ door life had leflon his features ; a strong, clear ed about thirty. His* sister presented her i intellect, a lolly, earnest soul; a calm, unruffled friend, and with a hasty bow he fastened his i heart, that knew not half its own unsounded eves on her fac* Probably he was u neon- ' abysses. He rea<l industriously for some time, ecious of the steadiness of his gaze, but Irene | occasionally pausing to annotate; and once became restless under his fixed, earnest eye, , or twice he raised his head and listened, fan-

cd her pleasure at meeting her dat^iiter's friend, the girl's heart gave a quick bound of joy.

" Come up stairs and put away your bon- net."

In Loui.'^a's beaTiliful room the two sat talk- ing of various things till the tea -bell rang. Mr. Young's greeting was scarcely less friendly than his wife's, and as they seated themst-lves at the table, the stranger felt at home lor the first time in New York.

" Where is brother ?" asked Louisa, glancing at the vacant seat opposite her own.

" He has not come home yet ; I wonder what

and perceiving her embarrassment, Mrs. Y^oung said —

" Harvey, where have you been ? Dr. Mel- ville called hare for you at four o'clock ; said you luui made some engagement with him."

•' Yes, mother ; we have been visiting to- gether this afternoon."

Withdrawing his eyes, he seemed to fall into a reverie, and took no part in the conver- sation that ensued. As the paijty adjourned to the sitting-room, he pjiused on the rug, and leaned his elbow on the mantle. Louisa lin- gered, and drew near aroun<l her shoulders, and looked aft'ectionate- ly down at her.

" Well, what is it V"

•' Come into the sitting-room and help me entertain Irene, instead of going olF to your tupid study; do, Harvey."

" A very reasonable request, truly ! I

eying iootsteps in the hall. Finally he pushetl the book away, took a turn across the floor, and resumed his seat. He could not rivet his attention on St. Chrysostom, and folding his arms over his chest, he studied the red coals instead. Soon after, unmistakable steps fell on his ear, and a light tap at the door was followed by the entrance of the two girls. Irene came very reluctantly, fearful of intru<l- ing ; but he rose, and placed acliair for her ^(•lose to his own,as.suring her that he was glad to see her there. Louisa found the portfolio. He j)as8ed his arm I and, bringing it to the table, begcan to exhibit its treasures. The two leaned over it, and as Irene sat resting her cheek on her hand, the beauty of her face and figure wa.s clearly re- vealed. Harvey remaine<l silent, watching the changing expression of the visitor's coun- tenance ; and once he put out his hand to touch the hair floating over the bai-k and must quit my work to talk* to one of your! arms of her chair, (iradually his still heart schoolmates ; nonsense ! How old is she y" '■ stirred, his brow flushed, and a new liiiht

" Fifteen. Is not she a beauty?"

" Yes."

" Oh, Harrey ! you arc so cold ! I thought you would admire Irene prodigiously ; and now you say 'yes' just exactly as il' I Lad

burned in the decp<'lear eyes.

" Louisa, where did you get these ?" " Brother brought them home when

came from the East." Irene lifted her eyes to his and said :

MACARIA.

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" Did you visit all these ])laccs ? Did you J go to that orumbling Temple^ of the Sun?" I He told her of his visit to the old wor Id, of its mournful ruins, its decaying glories ; of the lessons he learned there ; the sad, but precious memories lie brought back, and as he talked time passed unheeded — she forgot her embar- rassment, they were strangers no longer. The clock struck ten ; Louisa rose at once.

" Thank you, Harvey, for giving us so much of your time. Father and mother will be waiting for you."

" Yes, I will join you at once."

She led the way back to the sitting-room, and a few moments afterward, to Irene's great surprise, the student came in, and sitting down before the table, opened the Bible and read a chapter. Then all knelt and he prayed. There was a strange spell on the visitor; in all this there was something so unexpected. It was the first time she had ever knelt around the family altar, and, as she rose, that sit- ting-room seemed suddenly converted into a temple of worship. Mutual "good -nights" were exchanged, and as Irene turned toward the young minister, he held out his hand. She gave him hers, and he pressed it gently, say- ing:

" I trust this is the first of many pleasant evenings which we shall spend together."

'" Thank you, sir. I hope so too, for I have not been as happy since I left home."

He smiled, and she wmlked on. His moiher looked up as the door closed behind her^ and exclaimed :

"What a wonderfully beautiful face she has ! Louisa often rhapsodized about her, and now -I am not at all surprised at her enthusiasm."

" Yes, such perfection of features as hers is seen but once in a lifetime. I have travelled over the greater part of the world; I have looked upon all types of beauty, from the Andalusians, whom Murillo immortalized, to the far-famed Circassians of Habarda, but never before have I found such a marvel of loveliness as that girl. In Venice I spent a morning studying one of Titian's faces, which somewhat resembles hers ; there is au approx- imation to the same golden hair — forming a nimbus, as it were — tiie same contour of fea- tures, but Titian's picture lacked her pure, unsearchable, indescribable eyes. Have you notic<Hl what a rare, anomalous color her hair is ? There never was but one other head like it; the threads of fine gold in that cele- ' brated lock of her own hair, which Lucretia Borgia gave Cardinal Bombo, match Irene Huntingdon's exactly. Well and truly has it been said of that glittering relic in the Am- brozian library, ' If ever hair was golden, it is this of LucretiatBorgia's ; it is not red, it is not yellow, it is not auburn ; it is golden, and nothing else.' I examined it curiously, and wondered whether the world could furnish

a parallel ; consequently, wJien that girl's head flashed before me, I was startled. Stranger still than her beauty is the fact that it has not spoiled her thus far."

lie folded his ai-ms over his chest as if crushing out something.

His mother laughed.

" Why, Harvey I What a riddle you are. Take care, my son ; that child would never do for a minister's wife."

" Of course not;' who ever dreamed that she would ? Good-night, mother; I shall not be at home to breakfast ; do not wait for me, I ffm going to Long Island Avith Dr. Melville." He bent down to receive her customary kiss, and went to his own room.

" Louisa, how came your brother to be a minister V" asked Irene, when they had reached their apartment.

" When he was a boy he said he intended to preach, and father never dissuaded him. I was quite young when he went to the East, and since his return he has been so engrossed by his theological studies that we arc rarely together. HarA-cy is a singular man — so silent, so equable, so cold in his manner, and yet he has a warm heart. He has declined two calls since his ordination ; Dr. Melville's health is very poor, and Harvey frequently fills his 'pulpit. Sometimes he talks of going West, where ministers are scarce; thinks he could do more good there, but mother will not consent for him to leave us. I am afraid, though, he will go — he is so determined when he once makes up his mind. He is a dear, good brother ; I know you will like him when you know him well ; everybody loves Harvey."

The inclemency of the weather confined the girls to the house the following day. Har- « vey was absent at breakfast, and at dinner the chair opposite Irene's was still vacant. The afternoon wore away, and at dusk Louisa opened the piano and began to play Thal- berg's " Home, Sweet Home." Irene sat on a sofa near the window, and as she listened, visions of the South rose before her, till she realized —

"That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is romomberlng happlAr tilings."

She longed inexpressibly for her own home, for her father, for the suffering friends of the cottage, and, as she thought of his many trials, Russell's image was more distinct than all. She closed her eyes, and felt again his tight clasp of her hands ; his passionate, pleading words" sounded once more: "Oh, Irene! be- lieve in me ! believe in me always ! " It 1^ seemed to her so unnatural, so cruel that they should be separated. Then came the memory of Mrs. Auiirey's words of counsel: "Pi-hn' constantly ; keep yourself unspotted from l.ic world." What would the blind woman think if she knew all the proud, scornful, harsh feel- ings which were now in her heart "r" A seasa-

3$

MACARIA.

tion of deep contrition and humiliation came ' upon her; she knew she was fast losinc the best imi)ulsc8 of her nature, and experienced , keen regnt that she had yielded to the evil associations and temptations of the school. | How could she hope to prow better under such ; einumstanees ? What would become of her V [ The snow drift<>d ajrainst the panes, making fairy fretwork, and ihmugh the feathery | flakes the paslipht at the corner burned stea«l- ily on. " So ought the lipht of conscience to burn," thought ihc ; "so oupht I to do my duty, no matter how I am situated. That light is all the more necessary because it is stormy and dark."

Somebody took a scat near her, and though the room was dim she knew the tall form and the touch of Lis hand.

"Good-evening, Miss Irene; we have had a gloomy day. How have you and Louisa spent it V"

"Not very i)rofitably I daresay, though it has not appeared at all gloomy to me. Ilavc you been out in the snow ?"

" Yes ; my work has been sad. I burleil a mother and child this afternoon, and have just come from a home of orphanage and grief It is a dilficult matter to realize how man} aching hearts there are in this great city. Our mahogany doors shut out the wail that hourly goes up to God from the thousand suf- ferers in our midst.''

Just then a servant lighted the chandelier, and she saw th^t he looked graver than evci-. i^ouisa came up and put her arm around his neck, but he did not return the caress; saiil a few kind words, and rising, slowly paced tlic floor. As his eye fell on tlie pi^no lie paused, saying, " Come, Louisa, sing th»t song for me."

She sat down, and began " Comfort ye my people ;" and gradually the sadness melted from his features. As Irene listened to the solenm strains she (bund it dilficult to control her feelings, and l)y degrees her head sank until it touched tlu; arm of the sofa. The minister watched the eflect of the music, and, resuming his seat, said gently —

"It is genuine jihilosophy to extract <*om- fort and aid front every possible source. There is a vast amount of strength needed to combat the evils and trials which necessarily occur in even the sunniest, happiest lives ; and I find that sometimes I derive far more from a song than a lengthy sermon. We are curioui bits of mechanism, and frecjuently mu.sic efl^ects what learned disputation or earnest exhorta- H tion could not taccornplish. I remember once, when I was a child, I had given my mother a great deal of trouble by my obstinacy. She had entreated me, reasoned with me, and finally nuni.shed me, but all to no i»urpo.se ; ; my wickedness had not been concpiered. I was bitter and rebellious, anil continued so all | day. That evening she sat down to the piano i and sang a hymn for ny father. The instaat I

the strains fell on my car I felt softened, crept down stairs to the parlor-<ioor. and before she ha<l finished was crj-ing heartily, begging her forgiveness. When a sublime air is made the vehicle of a noble sentiment there is no com- puting the amount of goo«l it accomplishes, if ]>roperly directed. During uiy visit to Lon- don, I went to hear a very celebrated divine. I had just lo«t a dear friend, the companion who travelled with me to Jerusalem and Me- roe, and I went to church full of sorrow. The sermon was able, but h.ail no more effect in comforting me than if I ha<l not listened to it. lie preached from that text of Job treat- ing of the resurrection, and at the conclusion the very words of his text, ' I know that my Redeemer liveth,' were sung by the choir. When the organ rolled its solemn tones under the dim arched roof, and I heanl the voices of the choir swelling deep and full —

'Throb tliro\i(;h tho ribliiHl Htono,'

then, and not till then, I appreciated tho grand words to which I had listened. The organ spoke to my soul as man could not, and I left the chiinh calmed and comforted. All things are capable of yielding benefit, if prop- erly api)lied, though it is a lameiUable truth that gross abuse has involved many possible sources of good in disrepute; and it is our duty to extract elevating influences from all <lepartments. Such an alchemy is especially the privilege of a Christian."

As he talked she lifted her beautiful eyes and looked steadily at him, and he thought that, of all the lovely things he had ever seen, that face was the most pet'rless. She drew closer to him, and said earnestly :

" Then you ought to be haypy, Mr. Young."

" That implies a doubt that 1 am."

" You do not seem to nic a very happy man."

" There you mistake me. I presume there are few happii'r persons."

" Countenance is not a faithful index, then; you look so exceedingly grave."

" Do you Suppose that gravity of face is in- compatible with sunshine in the heart?"

" I think it reasonable that the sunshine should sparkle in the eyes and gleam over the features. But, sir, I should like, if you please, to talk to you a little about other things. May IV"

" Certainly ;Npeak on, and speak freely; you may trust me, I think."

He smiled encouragingly as he spoke, and without a moment's thought she laid her deli- cate hand in his.

" Mr. Young, I want somebody to advise me. Very oft(!n I am at a loss about my duty, and, having no one to consuls eUher do noth- ing at all or that which I sffould not. If it will not trouble you too much, I shonlii like to bring my ditricultics to you sometimes, and get you to direct me. If you will only talk

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frankly to me, as you do to Louisa, oh ! I will be very grateful."

He folded his hands softly over the white, fluttering fingers.

" Louisa is my sister, and therefore I do not hesitate to tell her unwelcome truths. But you happen to be a perfect stranger, and might not relish my counsel."

" Try me."

" How old are you ? Pardon my inquisi- tiveness."

" Fifteen."

"An age when young ladies prefer flattery to truth. Have you no brother ?"

" I am an only child."

" You would like a brother, however V"

" Yes, sir, above all things."

*' Take care ; you express yourself strongly. If you can fancj' me for a brother, consider me such. One thing I can promise, you will have a guardian sleepless as Ladon, and un- tiring in his efforts to aid you as if he were in truth a Briareus. If you are not afraid of espionage, make me 3'our brother. What say you ?"

" I am not afraid, sir ; I believe I need watching."

" Ah, that you do !" he exclaimed with un- usual emphasis.

" He can be very stern, Irene, gentle as he looks," suggested Louisa.

" If he never found fault with me I should not need his friendship.

When Monday morning came, and she was obliged to return to schopl, Irene reluctantly bade farewell to the new friends. She knew that, in conformity to the unalterable regula- tion of Crim Tartary, she'Could only leave the institution once a mouthy and the prospect of this long interval between her visits was by no means cheering. Harvey assisted her into the carriage.

" I shall send you some books in a day or two, and if you are troubled about an)'thing before I sec you again, write me a note by Louisa. I would call to see you occasionally if you were boarding anywhere else. Good- morning, Miss Irene; do not forget that I am your brother so long as you stay iq New York, or need one."

The books were not forgotten; they arrived the ensuing week, and his selection satisfied her that he perfectly understood what kind of aid she required. Her visit made a lasting im- pression on her mind, and the Sabbath spent in Loui.sa"s home often recurred to her in after years, as the memory of some green, sunny isle of rest haunts the dreams of weary, tem- pest-lashed mariners in a roaring sea. Maria Ashley was a sore trial of patience, and occa- sionally, aft<>r a fruitless struggle to rise above the temptations presented almost hourly, Irene looked longingly toward Louisa's fireside as one turns to the last source of support. Fi- nally she took r«fug« in iil«nce, and, except

when compelled to do so, rarely commented upon anything that occurred. The days were always busy, and when the text-books were finished, she had recourse to those supplied by her new friends. At the close of the next month, instead of accompanying Louisa home, Irene was suffering with severe cold, and too much indisposed to quit the house. This was a grievous disappointment, but she bore it bravely and went on with her studies. What a di-eary isolation in the midst of numbers of her own age. It was a thraldom that galled her; and more than once the implored her father's permission to return home. His re- plies were positive denials, and after a time she ceased to expect release, until the pre- scribed course should be ended. Thus an- other month dragged itself away. On Friday morning Louisa was absent. Irene felt anx- ious and distressed ; perhaps she was ill, some- thing must have happened. As the day-pupils were dismissed she started back to her own room, heart-sick because of this second disap- pointment. " After all," thought she, " I may as well Accustom myself to being alone. Of course, I can't have the Youngs always. I must learn to depend on myself" She put away the bonnet and cloak laid out in readi- ness for departiire, and sat down to write to her aunt Margaret. A few minutes after, a servant knocked at the door and informed her that a gentleman wished to see her in the parlor.

CHAPTER Vm.

"I am so glad to see you, Mr. Young. Louisa is not sick, I hope ?"

"I came for you in Louisa's place; she is not well enough to quit her room. Did you suppose that I intended leaving you hero for another month ?"

" I was rather afraid you had forgotten me; the prospect was gloomy ten minutes ago. It seems a long time since I was with you."

She stood close to him, looking gladly into his face, unconscious of the effect of her words.

" You sent me no note all this time ; why not ?"

"I was afraid of troubling you; and, be- sides, I would rather tell you what I want you to know."

" Miss Irene, the carriage is at the door. I am a patient man, and can wait half an hour if you have any preparation to make."

In much less time she joined him, equipped for the ride, and took her place beside him ia the carriage. As they reached his father's door, and he assisted her out, she saw him look at her very searchingly.

" It is time that you had a litlla fresh air. You are not quite yourself. Louisa is in her room ; run up to her."

She founil bar friend luffering with soro

40

MACARIA.

throat, and -was startled at the appearance of her Hushed cheeks. Mrs. Youn^r gat beside her, and after most cordial trrretings the lat- ' ter resigned her seat and left theiu, enjoininji u])on her daughter the necessity oY remaining (juiet. I

" Mother was almost afrjud for j'ou to come, | but I tea/ed and coaxed for permission ; told her that even if I had scarlet fever you had 1 already had it, and would run no risk. Har- j vey says it is not scarlet fever at all. and he ' persuaided mother to let him go after you. j He alwaws has things his own way, though he t brings it about so (juietly tiiat nobody would • ever suspect him ol' being self-willed. Har- | vey is a good friend of yours, Irene." |

"I am very glad to hear it; he is certainly very kind to me. But recollect, you are not ' to talk much ; let me talk to you." j

Mrs. Young sent up tea for both, and about | nine o'clock Mr. Young and his son both en- tere<l. Louisa had fallen a.^leej) holding Irene's hand, and her father cautiously felt the pulse ' and examined the countenance. The fever ' had abated, and, bending down, Harvey said softly : I

" Can't you release your hand without waking her V"

".I am afraid not ; have prayer without me to-night.". I

After the gentlemen withdrew, Mrs. Young and Irene watched the sleeper till midnight, Avhen she awoke. The following morning found her much better, and Irene and the mother spent the day in her room. La(e in the afternoon the minister came in and talked to his sister for .some moments, then turned to hi.-^ mother.

"Mother, I am going to take this visitor of yours down to the library ; Louisa lias mo- nopolized her long enough. Come, Miss Irene, you shall join them again at tea."

He. led the way, and she followed him very willingly. Placing her in a chair before the fire, h(* drew another to the rug ; and, seating himself, said just as if speaking to Louisa :

" What liave you beijn doing these two months? What is it that clouds your face, my little sister?"

" Ah, sir ! I am so weary of that school. Yon don't know what a relief it is to come here."

" It is rather natural that you should feel liomefiick. It is a fierce orde;ll for a child like you to be thrust so far from home."

" I am not homesick iio\m, I believe. I have in some, degree become accustomed to the separation from my father; b.it I am growing so ditleient from what I used to be ; so dilfer- ent from what I expected. It grieves me to know that 1 am changing for the worse; but, somehow, I can't hclj) it. I make good reso- lutions in the morning before I leave my room, ami by noon I manage to break all of them. Th«* girls try me, and I lose my pa-

tience. When I am at home nothing of this kind