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Published unifonn with this Volume.

ST. ELMO,

By AUG-ITSTA J. EVANS WILSON,
1 Vol. Croum Svo.^ Linen and Chth Binding.

** Who has not read with rare delight the Novels of Auovsta EvAifs T
Her strange, wonderful, and fasoiuating Htyle ; the profound deptliit to
which she sinlta the probe into hnman nature, touching its most sacrec^
chords and springs ; the intense interest thrown around her characters,
and the very marked peculiarities of her principal llgurM, conspire to
give an unusual interest to the Works of this eminent Southern
Authoress."

Sent, postage firee, by Mail, on receipt of price, by

ROSE-BELFORD PUBLISHING COMPANY,

TORONTO.

rRINTBIt AHD BOUND BT

HUXTIR, ROflB it Co.,

TORONTO.

U If

il.

« I

INFELICE.

% |[0f)fll«

AUGUSTA J. EVANS WILSON,

▲OTHOEOV

IT. ■uco," " mnuM,*' ** mmoabia,** wk.

BOSE-BELFOBD PXTBUSHmG OOMPAKT.

MDCNMLZZTin.

3335
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f- m ■ «W» i»t^

INFELICE.

CHAPTER I.

|ID you tell her that Dr. Hargrove is absent t **
" I did, ma'am, but she says she will wait/'
" But, Hannah, it is very uncertain when he will
return, and the night is so stormy he may remain in
town until to-morrow. Advise her to call again in
the morning."

" I said as much at the door, but she gave me to understand
she came a long way, and should not leave here without seeing
the doctor. She told the driver of the carriage to call for hei
in about two hours, as she did not wish to miss the railroad
train."

" Where did you leave her ? Not in that cold dark parlor,
I hope 1"

" She sat down on one of the hall chairs, and I left her
there."

" A hospitable parsonage reception ! Do you wish her to
freeze 1 (So and ask her into the library, to the fire."

As Hannah left the room, Mrs. Lindsay rose and added two
sticks of oak wood to the mass of coals that glowed between
the shining brass andirons ; then carefully removed farther
from the flame on the hearth, a silver teapot, and covered dish,
which contained the pastor's supper.

" Walk in, madam. I promise you nobody shall interferer
with you. Miss Elise, she says she wishes to see no one but
the doctor."

Hannah ushered the visitor in, and stood at the door, beck
oning to her mistress, who paused irresolute, gazing curiously
at the muffled form and veiled face of the stranger.

INFBLIOE.

1 •

" Do not allow me to cause you any inconvenience,
My business is solely with Dr. Hargrove, and I do not
cold."

The voice of the visitor was very sweet though trt
and she would have retreated, but Mrs. Lindsay put )
on the bolt of the door, partly closing it.

** Vtvf be seated. This room is at your disposal
bring the tea things into the dining-room, and then j
not wait longer ; I will lock the doors after my broth
in. I

With an ugly furrow of discontent between her heai
Hannah obeyed, and as she renewed the fire smoulj
the dining-room stove, [she slowly shook her erizzlf
" Many a time I have heard my father say : ' Myster
misery,' and take my word for it, there is always sj
wrong when a woman shuns women-folks, and hunts i
and advice from men." ^\^

" Hush, Hannah ! Charity— charity ; don't forget
live in a parsonage, where * sounding brass or tink
bals ' are not tolerated. All kinds of sorrow come h
cured, and I fear that lady is in distress. Did you n
her voice trembled 1 "

" Well, I only hope no silver will be missing to-m<
must make up my buckwheat, and set it to rise. Go
Miss Elise."

It was a tempestuous night in the latter part of Jai](
although the rain, which had Tallen steadily all day,j
dark, the keen blast from the north shook thebranc)
ancient trees encircling the " Parsonage," and dashed \
in showers against the windows. Not a star was vii
as the nieht wore on, the wind increased in violence
through kafless elm limbs, and whistling drearily arj
comers of the old brick house, whose ivy-mantled i
had battled with the storms of seventy years. |

The hands of the china clock on the dining-rooij
piece pointed to nine, and Mrs. Lindsay expected to!
clear sweet strokes of the pendulum, when other soun<j
her ; the sharp shrill bark of a dog, and impatient i
of paws on the hall door. As she hurried forward
drew the inside bolt, a middle-aged man entered, foU^
bltdkh-giey Skye-terrier. I

« Peyton, what kept you so late 1 " \

i i!i!ii;;ri(::i;i:i;i.

: n.:.),.

"!• I'l

life;.

I"' I

■irr:i:£^£ii^:u^Jil:.'Ji'i.z:^^x:^:^^^=x^

tlTFELICS.

, ■ h"<:.

\Wh. ii':.ti

..••Ti;!''.';-ri !i

!l;i!liil::i'

,;!i,;n

::|i:i

HA called to Beeobgrove to baptize Susan Moffat's odIv

Mr. Tbe girl died at eight u clock, and I sat awhile with

token mother, trying to comfort her. Poor Susan I it is

f blow, for she idolized the child. Be quiet, BiSkn."

Hargrove was. leisurely divesting himself of his heavy

it, and the terrier ran up and down the hall, holding his

gh in the air, and barking furiously.

5rn'8 instincts rarely deceive him. A stranger is waiting

library to see you. Before you go in, let me give you

ipper, for you must be tired and hungry."

ank you, Elise, but first I must see this visitor, whose

piay be urgent."

?^ned the door of the library, and entered so quietly

e occupant seemed unaware of his presence.

^re draped in black sat before the table, which was

rlose to the hearth, and the arms were crossed wearily,
head bowed upon them. The dog barked and bounded
[her, and then she quickly rose, tl^owing back her veil,
^rly advancing.

u are the Rev. Peyton Hargrove % "
taL What can I do for you, madam ? Pray take this
I chair."

tnotioned it away, and exclaimed :
a you, too, have forgotten me? "
;zzled expression crossed his countenance as he gazed
agly at her ; then he shook his head,
glare of the fire, and the mellow glow of the student's
^11 full on the pale features, wbose exceeding delicacy
f found outside of the carved ^c:t>8 of the Stosch or AI-
ibinets. On Camei and marble dwell the dainty mould-
)he oval cheek, the airy arched 'vacery of the brows, the
j» slender nose, and clearly defined cleft of the rounded
|d nature only now and then models them, as a whole,
; It was the lovely face of a youne girl, fair as one
f*rate's heavenly visions, but blanched by some flood of
Ithat had robbed the full tender lips of bloom, and be*
i large soft brown eyes of the gilding glory of hope.
i ever knew, I certainly have forgotten you."
L do not say so 1 You must recoUect me ; — ^you are the
(rson who can identify me. Four years ago I stood
|n this roouL Try to recall me."
»me close to him, and he heard the quick and laboured

tlTFJllICB.

breathing, and saw the convulsive quivering of her oompressed
lips.

" What peculiar circumstances marked my former acquaint-
ance with you 1 Your voice is quite familiar, but "

He paused, passed his hand across his eyes, and before he
could complete the sentence, she exclaimed :

" Am I, then, so entirely changed ? Did you not one May
morning marry, in this room, Minnie Merle to Guthbert
Laurance 1 "

'* I remember that occasion very vividly, for, in opposition to
my judgment, I performed the ceremony ; but Minnie Merle

was a low-statured, dark-haired child " Again he paused,

and keenly scanned the tall, slender, elegant figure, and the
crimped waves of shining hair that lay like a tangled mass of
gold net on the low, full white brow.

" I was Minnie Merle. Your words of benediction made
m® Minnie Laurance. God and the angels know it t is my
name, my lawful name, — ^but man denies it."

Something like a sob impeded her utterance, and the minis-
ter took her hand.

** Where is your husband t Are you widowed so early 1 "

** Husband — my husband 1 One to cherish and protect, to
watch over, and love, and defend me ; — if such bo the duties
and the tests of a husband, — oh ! then indeed I have never
had o^iei Widowed, did you say) That means something
holy, — sanctified by the shadow of death, and the yearning
sympathy and pity of the world ; — ^a widow has the right to hug a
coffin and a grave all the weary days of her lonely life, and peo-
ple look tenderly on her sacred weeds. To me widowhood
would be indeed a blessine. Sir, — ^I thought I had learned com-
posure, self-control ; but me sight of this room,— of your coun-
tenance,— even the strong breath of the violets and heliotrope
there on the mantel, in the same blood-coloured Bohemian vase
where they bloomed that day — that May day — all these bring
back so over^oweringly the time that is for ever dead to me
that I feel as if I should suffocate."

She walked to the nearest window, threw up the sash, and
while she stood with the damp chill wind blowing full upon
her, the pastor heard a moan, such as comes from meek dumb
creatures, wrung by the throes of dissolution.
' When she turned once more to the light, he saw an un-
natural sparkle in the dry, lustrous brown eyes.

INFMUOB.

*' Dr. HarnoTe, give me the licenie that wm handed to yoa
by Cuthbert Laurance."

" What value can it possess now9 "

" Just now it is worth more to me than everything else in
life, — more to me than my hopes of heaven."

" Mrs. Laurance, you must remember that I refused to per*
form the marriage ceremony, because I believed you were both
entirely too young. Tour grandmother, who came with you,
assurea me she was your sde guardian, and desired the mar-
riage, and your husband, who seemed to me a mere boy,
quieted my objections by producing the license, which he said
exonerated me from censure, and relieved me of all responsi-
bili^. With that morning's work I have never felt fully satis-
fied, and though I know that any magistrate would probably
have performed the ceremony, I have sometimes thought I
acted rashly, and have carefully kept that license as my defence
and apology."

" Thank God, that it has been preserved. Give it to me."

*' Pardon me if I say frankly, I prefer to retain it. All
iioenses are recorded by the officer who issued them, and by
appljring to him you can easily procure a copy."

*' Treachery baffles me there. A most opportune fire broke
out eighteen months ago, in the room where those records were
kept, and although the court-house was saved, the book con-
taining my marriage license was of course destroyed."

" But the clerk should be able to furnish a certificate of the
facts."

" Not when he has been bribed to forget them. Please give
me the paper in your possession."

She wrung her slender fingers, and her whole frame trem-
bled like a weed on some bleak hillside, where wintry winds
sweep unimpeded.

A troubled look crossed the grave, placid countenance of the
pastor, and he clasped his hands firmly behind him, as if girding
himself to deny the eloquent pleading of the lovely dark eyes.

" Sit down, madam, and listen to—"

" I cannot ! A restless fever is consuming me, and nothing
but the possession of that license can quiet me. Tou have no
right to withhold it, — ^you cannot be so cruel, so wicked, — un-
less you also have been corrupted, bought off ! "

" Be patient enough to hear me. I have always feared there
was something wrong about that strange wedding, and your

ISWELIOE,

manner oonfinns mj •nipieiomi. Now I mast be made so-
quainted with all the facts — must know your reason for claim-
in|( the paper in my possession, before I surrender it As a
mmister of the gospel, it is incumbent upon me to act cau-
tiously, lest I innocently become auxiliary to deception, — pos-
sibly to crime."

A vivid scarlet flamed up in the girl's marble cheeks.

" Of what do you suspect, or accuse me ? "

** I accuse you of notning. I demand your reasons for the
request you have made."

*' I want that paper because it is the only proof of my mar-
riage. There were two witnesses — my grandmother, who died
three years ago on a steamship bound for Oalifomia, where her
only son is living ; and Oerbert Audr^, a college student, who
is supposed to have been lost last summer in a fishing smack,
off the coast of Labrador or Greenland."

" I am a witness accessible at any time, should my testin^^ny
be required." ^ ^

" Will you live for ever 1 Nay, — just when I need your evi-
dence, my ill-luck will seal your lips, and drive the screws
down in your coffin-lid."

*' What use do you intend to make of the license f Deal
candidly with ma"

** I want to hold it, as the most preciouu thing left in life ; to
keep it concealed securely, until the time comes when it will
serve me, save me, avenge me."

" Why is it necessary to prove your marriage f Who dis-
putes it f"

** Outhbert Laurance and his father."

<* Is it possible ) Upon what plea t "

"That ne was a minor, was omy twenty, irresponsible, and
that the license was fraudulent."

" Where is yotr husband % "

** I tell you I have no husband ! It were sacrilege to couple
that sacred title with the name of the man who bias wronged,
deserted, repudiated me ; and who intends, il possible, to add
to the robbery, of my peace and happiness, that of my loir
stainless name. Less than one month after the day^ when right
here, where I now stand, you pronounced me his wife in the
sight of God and man, he was summoned home by a telegram
from his father. I have never seen him since. Gen. Laurance
took his son immediately to Europe, and, sir, you will find it

tKFEUOM.

diffionlt to believe me when I tell you tbit infamons father hte
ftotually forced the ion, by threats of duinheritanoe, to marry
■gain,— to— "

The words seemed to strangle her, and she hastily broke
away the ribbons which held her bonnet and were tied beneath
her chin.

Mr. Ha^ove ponred some water into a goblet, and as he
held it to her lips, murmured compassionately :

"Poor child I God help you."

Perhaps the genuine pity in the tone brought back sweet
memories of the by-gone, and for a moment softened the girl's
heart, for tears gathered in the large eyes, giving them a
strange quivering radiance. As if ashamed of the weakness,
she threw her head back defiantly, and continued :

" I was the poor little orphan, whose grandmother did wash-
ing and mendin^i for the college boys — only little unknown
Minnie Merle, with none to aid in asserting her rights ; — and
she — the new wife — was a banker's daughter, an heiress, a
fashionable belle, — and so Minnie Merle must be trampled out,
— and the new Mrs. Cuthbert Laurance dashes in her splendid
equipage through the Bois de Boulogna Sir, give me my
Ucense ! "

Mr. Hargrove opened a secret drawer in the tall writing-desk
that stood in one corner of the room, and unlocking a sauare
tin box, took from it a folded slip of paper. After some aelib .
eration he seated himself, and began to write.

Impatiently his visitor paced the floor, followed by Bidm,
who now and then growled auspiciously.

At length when the pastor laid down his pen, his guest came
to his side, and held out her hand.

" Madam, the statements you have made are so extraordi-
nary, that you must pardon me if I am unusually cautious
in my course. While 1 have no right to doubt your assertions
they seem almost incredible, and the use you might make of
the license "

" What ! you find it so difficult to credit the villiany of a
man — and yet so easy to suspect, to believe all possible deceit
and wickedness in a poor helpless woman ) Oh, man of God !
is your mantle of charity cut to cover only your own sezi
Can the wail of down-trodden orphanage wake no pity in
your heart, — or is it locked against me by the cowardly dread
of incurring the hate of the house of Laurance ] "

tNFELlCJe.

For an instant a dark flush bathed the tranquil brow of the
minister, but his kind tone was unchanged when he answered
slowly :

" Four years ago I was in doubt concerning my duty, but
just now there is clearly but one course for me to pursue.
Unless you wish to make an improper use of it, this paper,
which I very willingly hand to you, will serve your purpose.
It is an exact copy of the license, and to it I have appended
my certificate, as the ofiSciating clergyman who performed the
marriage ceremony. Examine it carefully, and you will find
the date, and indeed every syllable, rigidly accurate. From the
original I shall never part, unless to see it replaced in the court-
house records."

Bending down close to the lamp, she eagerly read and re-read
the paper, which shook like an aspen in her nervous grasp ; then
she looked long and searchingly into the grave face beside her,
and a sudden light broke over her own. - ( i

" Oh, thank you ! After all, the original is safer in your
hands than in mine. I might be murdered, but they would
never dare to molest you, — and if I should die, you would not
allow them to rob my baby of her name 1 "

"Yourbabv!"

He looked at the young girlish figure and face, and it seemed
impoesible that the creature before him could be a mother. A>
melancholy smile curved her lips.

" Oh ! that is the sting that sometimes goads me almost to
desperation. My own wrongs are sufficiently hard to bear, but
when I think of my innocent baby denied the sight of her
father's face, and robbed of the protection of her father's name,
then I forget that T am only a woman ; I forget that God
reigns in heaven to right the wrongs on earth, and "

There was a moment's silence.

"How old is your child?"

" Three years."

" And you 1 A. mere child now."

" I am only nineteen."

*^ Poor thing ! I pity you from the depths of my soul."

The clock struck ten, and the woman started frpm the table
against which she leaned.

" I must not miss the train ; I promised to return promptly."

She put on the gray cloak she h d thro'Wn aside, buttoned it
about her throat, and tied her bonnet strings.

INFBLIOE.

" Before you go, explain one thing. Was rot your hair very
dark when you were married % "

" Yes, a dark chestnut brown, but when my child was born,
I was ill a long time, and my head was shaved and blistered.
When the hair grew out, it was just as you see it now. Ah !
if we had only died th^n, baby and i, — we might have had a
quiet sleep under the violets and daisies. I see, sir^you doubt
whether I am really little Minnie Merle. Do you not recollect
that when you asked for the wedding ring, bone had been pro-
vided, and Guthbert took one from his own hand, which was
placed on my finger 1 Ah ! there was a grim fitness in the se-
lection ! A death's head peeping out of a cinerary urn. You
will readily recognise the dainty bridal token."

She drew from her bosom a slender gold chain on which was
suspended a quaint antique cameo ring of black agate, with a
grinning white skull in the centre, and around the oval border
of heavuy chased gold, glittered a row of large and very bril-
liant diamonds.

" I distinctly remember the circumstance."

As the minister restored the ring to its owner, she returned
it and the chain to its hiding place.

" I do not wear it, I am bi(Ung my time. When Gen. Lau-
rance sent his agent first to attempt to buy me off, and, find-
ing that impossible, to browbeat me and terrify me into silence,
one of his insolent demands was the restoration of this ring,
which he said was an heirloom of untold value in his family,
and must belong to none but a Laurance. He offered five hun-
dred dollars for the delivery of it into his possession. I would
sooner part with my right arm ! Were it u-on or lead, its value
to me would be the same, for it is only the sjonbol of my law-
ful marriage, — is my child's title deed to a legitimate name."

She turned towards the door, and Dr. Hargrove asked :

" Where is your home ? "

" I have none. I am a waif drifting from city to city, on the
uncertain waves of chance.",

" Have you ho relatives 1 "

" Only an uncle, somewhere in the gold mines of California."

" Doe6 Gen. L'aurance provide for your maintenance 1 "

''Three years ago his agent offered me a passage to Sai^
Francisco, and five thousand dollars, on condition that I with-
drew all claim to my husband, and to his name, and pledged
myself to ' give the Laurances no further trouble.' Had I beep

INFBLIOK

a man, I would haye strangled him. Since then no communi-
cation of any kind has passed between us, except that all my
letters to Guthbert, pleading for his child, have been returned
without comment."

*' How, then, are you and the babe supported t "

** That, sir, is my secret."

She drew herself haughtily to her full height> and would
have passed him, but he placed himself between her and the
door.

" Mrs. Lauranco, do not be offended by my friendly frank-
ness. You are so young and so beautiful, and the circum-
stances of your life render you so peculiarly liable to dangerous
associations and influences, that I fear y>>u may "

"Fear nothing for me. Can I forget my helpless baby,
whose sole dower just now promises to be her mother's spot-
less name f Blushing for h\^r father's perfidy, she shall never
need a purer, whiter shield tiian her mother^s stainless r^rd
— so help me God ! " ' ^

" Will you do me the favour to put aside for future contin-
gencies this small tribute to your child ) The amount is not
so large that you should hesitate to receive it ; and feeling a
deep interest in your poor little babe, it will give me sincere
pleasure to know that you accept it for her sake, as a memento
of one who will always be glad to hear from you, and to aid ;you
if possiUe."

With evident embarrassment he tendered an old-fashioned
purse of knitted silk, through whose meshes gleamed the sheen
of gold pieces. To his astonishment, she covered her face with
her hands, and burst into a fit of passionate weeping. For some
seconds she sobbed aloud, leaving him in painful uncertainty
concerning the nature of her emotion. 4 ^ j

" Oh, sir, it has been so long since words of sympathy and
real kindness were spoken to me, that now they unnerve me.
T ^m gtro ng again st calumny and injustice, — but kindness
brei^s me down. 1 thank you in my baby'i^ name, but we can-
not take your money. Ministers are never oppressed with)
richte, and baby and I can live without charity. But since
you are so good, I should like to say something i^ strict confi-
dence to you. I am suspicious now of everybody, but it seems
to me I might surely trust you. I do not 'yet see my way
clearly, and if anything should happen to me, the child would
bjB thrown helpless upon the world. You have neither wife,

JSL^

INFBUOB,

fo.

nor children, and if the time ever comes when I shall be
obliged to leave my little girl for any long period, may I
send her here for safety, until I can claim her 1 She shall cost
you nothing but care and watchfulness. I could work so much
better, if my mind were only easy about her; if I knew she
was safely housed in this sanctuary of peace."

Ah 1 how irresistible was the pathetic pleading of the tearful
eyes ; — ^but Mr. Hargrove did not immediately respond to the
appeal

" I understand your silence,^-you think me presumptuous
in my request, and I dare say I am, but "

*< No, madam, not at all presumptuous. I hesitate habitually
before assuming grave responsibility, and I only regret that I
did not h'esitate longer, — ^four years ago. A man s first in-
stincts of propriety, of right and wrong, should never be
smothered by persuasion, nor wrestled down and overcome by
subUe and selfish reasoning. I blame myself for much that
has occurred, and I am wming to do all that I can toward re-
pairing my error. If your child should ever really need a
guardian, bring or send her to me, 'and I will shield her to Ihe
lull extent of my ability."

Ere he was aware of her intention, she caught his hand, and
as she carried it to her lips, he felt her tears falling fast

" GU)d bless you for your goodness ! I have one thing more
to ask ; — ^promise me that you will divulge to no one what I
have told you. Let it rest between Gk>d, and you, and me."

" I promise."

" In the great city where I labour, I bear an assumed name,
and none must know, at least tor the present, whom I auL
Realizing fully the unscrupulous character of the men with
whom I have to deal, my only hope of redress is in preserving
the secret for some year?, and not even my baby can know her
real pare itage untu I see fit to tell her. You will not betray
me, even to my child ? "

" You may trust me."

"Thank you, more than mere words could ever express."

" May God help you, Mrs. Laurance, to walk circumspectly
— ^to lead a blameless lite."

He took his hat from the stand in the hall, and silently they
walked down to the parsonage gate. The driver dismounted
and opened the carriage door, but the draped figure lingered,
with her band upon the latch.

•20

INFELICE.

** If i shoiAd die before we meet again, you will not allow
them to trample upon my child It"

" I will do my duty faithfully."

" Remember that none must know I am Minnie Laurance,
until I give you permission ; for snares have been set all along
my path, and calumny is ambushed at every turn. Oood-bye,
sir. The God of orphans will one day requite you."

The light from the carriage lamp shone down on her as she
turned toward it, and in subsequent years the pastor was
haunted by the marvellous beauty of the spirituelle features,
the mournful splendour of the large misty eyes, and the golden
glint of the rippling hair that had fallen low upon her temples.

" If it were not so late, I would accompany you to the rail-
way station. You will have a lonely ride. Good-bye, li^
Laurance." »

" Lonely, sir ? Aye — lonely for ever."

She laughed bitterly, and entered the carriage. [\

«(

Laughed, and the echoes huddling in affright,
like Odin's hounds fled baying down the night.**

CHAPTER IL

|ITH the night, passed the storm which had rendered
it so gloomy, and the fair cold day shone upon a
world shrouded in icy cerements ; a hushed wind-
less world, as full of glittering rime-runes as the
frozen fields of Jotunheim. Each tree and shrub
seemed a springing fountain, suddenly crystallized in mid-air,
and not all the mediaeval marvels of Murano equalled the fairy
fragile tracery of fine-spun glassy web, and film and fringe
that stretched along fences, hung from eaves, and belaced the
ivy leaves that lay helpless on the walls. A blanched waning
moon, a mere silver crescent shivered upon the ' edge of the
western horizon, fleeing before the scarlet and orange lances
that already bristled along the Eastern sky-line, the advance
guard of the conqueror, who would, ere many moments, smite
fdl that weird icy realm with consuming flames. The very air

INFBLIOE.

y
;»

Seemed frozen, and refused to vibrate in trills and roulades
through the throaty organs of matutinal birds, that hopped
and blinked, plumed tLeir diamonded breasts, and scattered
brilliants enough to set a tiara ; and profound silence brooded
over the scene, until rudely broken by a cry of dismay which
rang out startlingly from the parsonage. The alarm might very
rea&y have been ascribed to diligent Hannah, who, contempt-
uous of barometric or thermal vicissitudes, invariably adhered
to the aphorism of Solomon, and arising " while it is yet night
— looketh well to the ways of her household."

With a broom in one hand, and feather dusting brush in the
other, she ran down the front steps, her white cap strings flying
like distress signals, — bent down to the ground as a blood-
hound might in scenting a trail, — then dashed back into the quiet
old house, and uttered a wolfish cry :

" Eobbers I Burglars ! Thieves ! "

Oppressed with compassionate reflections concerning the
fate of his visitor, the minister had found himself unable to
sleep as soundly as usual, and from the troubled slumber into
which he sank after daylight, he was aroused by the unwonted
excitement that reigned in the hall, upon which his apartment
opened. While hastily dressing, his toilette labours were expe-
dited by an impatient rap which only Hannah's heavy hand
could have delivered. Wrapped in his dressing gown he
opehed the door, saying benignly :

" Is there an earthquake or a cyclone 1 You thunder as if my
room were Mount Celion. Is any one dead 1 "

« Some one ought to be ! The house was broken open last
night, and the silver urn is missing. Shameless wretch ! This
comes of mysteries and veiled women, who are too modest to
look an honest female in the face, but "

" Oh, Hannah t that tongue of thine is more murderous than
Cyrus' scythed chariots ! Here is your urn ! I put it away
last night, because I saw from the newspapers that a quantity
of plate had recently been stolen. Poor Hannah ! don t scowl
so ferociously because I have spoiled your little tragedy. I
uelieve you are really sorry to see the dear old thing safe in
defiance of your prophecy."

Mrs. Lindsay came down stairs laughing heartily, and menac-
ing irate Hannah with the old-fashioned urn, which had sup-
plied three generations with tea.

"Is that the sole cause of the disturbance!" asked the

JNFELIOS,

master, stooping to pat Bidrn, who was dancing a tarantella on
the good man's velvet slippers.

Somewhat crestfallen, the woman seized the urn, began to
polish it with her apron, and finally said sulkily :

^' I beg parddn for raising a false alarm, but indeed it looked
suspicious and smelled of io\x\ play, when I found the library
window wide open, two chairs upside down on the carpet, —
mud on the window-sill, the inkstand upset, — and no urn on
the sideboard. BuH^s usual I am only an old fool, and you,
sir, and Miss Elise know best. ^ I am very sorry I roused you
80 early with my racket."

"Did you say the library window wide open ? Impossible ;
— I distinctly recollect closing the blinds, aAfl putting down
the sash before I went to bed. Elise, were you not with me at
the time ? "

*' Yes, I am sure you secured it, just before bidding me good
night."

"Well — ^no matter, facts are ugly stubborn things. Now
you two just see for yourselves what I found this morning."

Hannah hurried them into the library, where a fire had al-
ready been kindled, and her statement 'was confirmed by the
disarranged furniture, and traces of mud on the window sill
and carpet. The inkstand had rolled almost to the hearth,
scattering its contents en route, and as he glanced at his desk,
the minister turned pale.

The secret drawer which opened with a spring, had been

Eulled out to its utmost extent, and he saw that the tin box he
ad so carefully locked the previous night, was missing. Some
MSS. were scattered loosely in the drawer, and the purse filled
with gold coins, — ^a handsomely set miniature, — and heavy
watch chain with seal attached, — all lay untouched, though
conspicuously alluring to the cupidity of burglars. Bending
over his rifled sanctuary, Mr. Hargrove sighed, and a grieved
look settled on his countenance.

" Peyton, do you miss anything 1 "

" Only a box of papers."

" Were they valuable 1 "

"Pecuniarily, no; — at least not convertible jnto money.
In other respects, very important."

" Not your beautiful sermons, I hope," cried his sister, throw-
ing one arm around his neck, and leaning down to examine the
remaining contents of the drawer.

IJHrEUOE. ^^

" They were more valuable Elise, than many sermons, and
some cannot be replaced."

" But how could the burglars have overlooked the money
and jewellery 1 "

Again the minister sighed heavily, and closing the drawer,
said :

" Perhaps we may discover some trace in the garden."

" Aye, sir ; I searched before I raised an uproar, and here is
a handkerchief that I found under the window, on the violet
bed. It was frozen fast to the leaves."

Hannah held it up between the tips of her fingers, as if fear-
ful of contamination, and eyed it with an expression of loath-
ing. Mr. Hargrove took it to the light and examined it, while
an unwonted frown wrinkled his usually placid brow. It was a
dainty square of finest cambric, bordered with a wreath of
embroidered lilies, and in one comer exceedingly embellished
*' O O" stared, like wide wondering eyes, at the strange hands
that profaned it.

" Do you notice what a curious outlandish smell it has 1 It
stnick my nostrils sharper than hartshorn when I picked it up.
No rum-<h*inking, tobacco-smoking burglar in breeches dropped
that lace rag."

Hannah set her stout arms akimbo, and looked ''unutter-
able things " at the delicate fabric, that, as if to deprecate its
captors, was all the while breathing out deliciously sweet but
vague hints — now of eglantine, and now of that subtle spiciness
that dwells in daphnes, and anon plays hide-and-seek in nutmeg
geranium blooms.

Eeluctance to admission of the suspicion of unworthiness in
others is the invariable concomitant of true nobility of soul in
all pure and exalted natures ; and with that genuine chivalry,
which now, alas ! is well-nigh as rare as the aumoniere of pU-
gi ims, the pastor bravely cast around the absent woman the
broad soft ermine of his tender charity.

" Hannah, if your insinuations point to the lady who called
here last night, I can easily explain the suspicious fact of the
handkerchief, which certainly belongs to her ; for the room was
close, and my visitor having raised that window and leaned
out for fresh air, doubtless dropped her handkerchief, without
observing the loss."

"Do the initials' 00' represent her name)" asked Mrs

INFBLICE.

Lindsay, whose adroitly propounded interrogatories the pre-
vious evening had elicited no satisfactory information.

" Do not ladies generally stamp their own monograms when
marking articles that compose their wardrobes ) " He put the
unlucky piece of cambric in his pocket, and pertinacious Han-
nah suddenly stooped and dealt Biom a blow, which asto-
nished the spectators even more than the yelping recipient,
who dropped something at her feet and crawled behind his
master.

** You horrid greedy pest ! Are you in league with the
thieves, that you must needs try to devour the signs and tell-
tales they dropped in the track of their dirty work ? It is only
a glove this time, sir, and it was all crumpled, just so, where
I nrst saw it, when I ran out to hunt for footprints. It was
hanging on the end of a rose-bush, yonder near the snowball,
and you see it was rather too far from the window here to
have fallen down with the handkerchief. Look, Miss Elise —
your hands are small — ^but this would pinch even your fingers."

She triumphantly lifted a lady's kid glove, brown in colour
and garnished with three small oval silver buttons ; the exact
mate of one which Mr. Hargrove had noticed the previous
evening, when the visitor held up the ring for his inspection.
Exulting in the unanswerable logic of this latest fact, Hannah
quite unintentionally gave the glove a scornful toss, which
caused it to fall into the fireplace, and down between two oak
logs, where it shrivelled instantaneously. Unfortunately,
science is not chivalric, and divulges the unamiable and un-
graceful truth, that perverted female natures from even the
fower beastly types are more implacably vindictive, more subtly
malicious, more ingeniously cruel than the stronger sex ; and
when -a woman essays to track, to capture, or to punish — v<z
vidis.

"Now, Biom! improve your opportunity and heap coals ot
fire on slanderous Hannah's head, by assuring her you feel con-
vinced she did not premeditatedly destroy traces, and connive
at the escape of the burglars, by burning that most important
gloviEi, which might have aided us in identUyins them."

As Mr. Hargrove caressed his dog, he smiled, evidently re-
lieved by the opportune accident ; but Mrs. Lindsay looked
grave, and an indignant flush purpled the harsh, pitiless face of
the servant, who sullenly turned away, and busied herself in
putting the furniture in order.

^^.

> -

INFELIOE.

2fi

" Peyton, vere the stolen papers of a character to henefit
that person— or indeed any one but yourself or your family 1 '

He knew the soft blue eyes of his sister were watching him
keenly — saw, too, that the old servant stood still, and turned
her head to listen, and he answered without hesitation :

" The box contained the deed of a disputed piece of property,
those iron and lead mines in Missouri — and I relied upon it to
establish my claim."

" Was the lady who visited you last night in any manner
interested in that suit or its result 1 "

" Not in the remotest degree. She cannot even be aware o\
its existence. In addition to the deed, I have lost the policy
of insurance on this house, which has always been entrusted to
me, and I must immediately notify the company of the fact,
and obtain a duplicate policy. Elise, will you and Hannah
please give me my breakfast as soon as possible, that I may go
into town at once 1 "

Walking to the window, he stood for some moments with
his hands folded behind him, and as he noted the splendour of
the spectacle presented by the risen sun shining upon temples
and palaces of ice, prism-tinting domes and minarets, and bur-
nishing after the similitude of silver stalactites and arcades
which had built themselves into crystal campaniles, more glo-
rious than Giotto's, the pastor said: — ''The physical world,
just as Gk>d left it— how pure, how lovely, how entirely good ;
—how sacred from His hallowing touch ! Oh ! du s the world
of men and women were half as unchangingly tn^e, stainless,
and holy."

An hour later he bent his steps, not to the lawyer's, nor
yet to the insurance office, but to the depot of the only railroad
which passed through the quiet, old-fashioned, and compara-
tively unimportant town of V .

The station agent was asleep upon a sofa in the reception
room, but when aroused informed Dr. Hargrove that the down
train bound south had been accidentally detained four hours,
and instead of being " on time " — due at eleven p.m.— did not
pass through V until after three a.m. A lady, correspond-
ing in all respects with the minister's description, had arrived
about seven, on the up train ; left a small valise, or rather tra-
veller's satchel, for safe keeping in the baggage room ; had
inquired at what time she oould catch the down train, signify-
ing her intention to return upon it ; and had hired one of the
B

INFELIOE.

carriages always waiting for passengers, and disappeared.
About eleven o'clock she came back, paid the coachman and
dismissed the carriage ; seemed very cold, and the agent built
a ffood fire, telling her she could take a nap as the train was
behind time, and ne would call her when he heard the whistle.
He then went home, several squares distant, to see one of hia
children, who was quite ill, and when he returned to the sta-
tion and peeped into the reception room to see if it kept warm
and comfortable, not a soul was visible. He wondered where
the lady could have eone at that hour, and upon such a freezing
nighty but sat down by the grate in the freight-room, and when

the train blew for V he took his lantern and went out,

and the first person he saw was the missing lady. She asked
for her satchel, which he ^ave her, and he handed her up to the
platform, and saw her go mto the ladies' car.

" Had she a package or box when she returned and asked
for her satchel)"

** I did not see any, but she wore a waterproof of gray doth
which came down to her feet. There was so much confuiaiion
when the train came in, that I scarcely noticed her, but remem-
ber she shivered a good deal, as if almost frozen."

" Did she buy a return ticket 1 "

" No ; I asked if I should go to the ticket office for her, but
she thanked me very politely, and said she would not require
anything."

** Can you tell me to what place she was going ) "

'< I do not know where she came from, nor where she went.
She was most uncommonly beautiful."

"Are the telegraph wires working South )"

" Why, bless you, sir, they are down in several places, from
the weight of the ice j so I heard the station operator say, just
before you came in."

As Dr. Hargrove walked away, an expression of stem indig-
nation replaced the benign look that usually reisned over his
noble features, and he now resolutely closed all uie avenues of
compassion, along which divers fallacious excuses and charita-
ble conjectures had marched into his heart, and stifled for a
time the rigorous verdict of reason.

He had known, from the moment he learned the tin box was
missing, that only the frail, fair fingers of Minnie Merle could
have al»tracted it, but justice demanded that he should have
indisputable proof of her presence in Y — r- after twelve o'clock,

INFELICE.

for he had not left the library until that hour, and knew that
the train passed through at eleven.

Conviction is the pitiless work of unbiassed reason, but faith
is the acceptance thereof, by will, and he would not wholly
believe until there was no alternative. Faims in uno, faUuB %%
omnibus ; and quite naturally Dr. Harsrove began to discredit
the entire narrative of wron^, which had attained colossal pro-
portions from her delineation, and to censure himself most
harshly for having suffered this dazzling Delilah to extort from
him a solemn promise of secrecy ; for, unworthy of sympathv as
£ he now deemed her, his rigid rectitude would not permit him

I to regard that un worthiness as sufficient justification for abro-

gating his plighted word. Suspicious facts which twelve hours
before had been hushed by the soft spell of her rich plaintive
voice, now started up clamorous and accusing, and the pastor
could not avoid beholding the discrepancy between her pleas
of poverty and friendlessness, and the costly appearance of her
apparel — coupled with her refusal to acquaint him with her
means of maintenance.

If, as she Itad averred, the stolen license was — with the ex-
ception of his verbal testimony — ^the sole proof of her marriage,
why was she not satisfied with the copy given to her, unless
for some unrighteous motive she desired to possess in order to
destroy all evidence 1

Surmise, with crooked and uncertain finger, had pointed to
New York — whose broad deep bosom shelters so many help-
less human waifs — as her probable place of destination, and
had the telegraph wires been in successful operation he would
have hazarded the experiment of requesting her arrest at the
terminus of the railway; but this was impracticable, and
each succeeding hour aided in obliterating the only clue in his
possession.

The universal observation of man, ages ago — simmered
down and crystallized into the adage, "Misfortunes never
come singly;" and it is here respectfully submitted that
startling episodes, unexpected incidents, quite as rarely travel
alone. Do surprises gravitate into groups, or are certain facts
binary)

Sometimes for a quarter of a century the sluggish stream of
life oozes by, bearing no hint of deeds, or faces, that perchance
shed glory, or perhaps lent gloom to the far past — a past well-
nigh forgotten and inumed in the gathering gray of time— and

INFELWM.

•uddenly, without premonition, the slow monotonous current
ripples and swells into waves that bear to our feet fateftil
oonntenanoes, unwelcome as erave-ghouls — and the world
nows garrulous of incidents that once more galvanise the
snronded By-gone. For four vears the minister had received
no tidines of those whom he had so reluctantly joined in the
bonds of wedlock, and not even a reminiscence of that singular
bridal party had floated into his quiet parsonage study ; but
within twenty-four hours he seemed destined to gamer a
plentiful harvest ot disagreeable data for future speculation.
He had not yet reached his lawyer's office, when hearing his
name pronounced vociferously. Dr. Hargrove looked around
and saw the postmaster standing in his door, and calling on
him to enter.

** Pardon me, my dear sir, for shouting after you, so uncere-
moniously, but I saw you were not coming in, and knew it
would promote your interest to pay me a visit. Fine dav at
last, after all the rain and murky weather. This crisp frosty
air sharpens one's wits, — a sort of atmospheric pumice, don't
you see, and tempts me to drive a good bargain. How much
will you give for a letter that has travelled half around the
world, and had as many adventures as Robinson Crusoe or
Madame Keiffert"

He took from a drawer a dingy and much-defaced envelope,
whose address was rather indistinct from having encountered a
bath on its journey."

** Are you sure that it is for me t " asked the minister, trying
to decipher the uncertain characters.

"Are there two of your name? This is intended for Reve-
rend Peyton Hargrove, of St. Church, V , United States

of America. It was enclosed to me by the Postmaster Oen-
eral, who says that it arrived last week in the lone-lost mail of
the steamship ' Algol,' which you doubtless recollect was lost
some time ago, plying between New York and Havre. It
now appears that a Dutch sailing vessel bound for Tasmania —
wherever that may be, — somewhere among the cannibals, I
presume, — boarded her after she had been deserted by the
crew, and secured the mail bags, intending to put in along the
•Spanish coast and land them, but stress of weather drove them
so far out to sea, tiiat they sailed on to some point in Africa,
and as the postmasters in that progressive and enlightened
region did not serve their apprenticeship in the United States'

I9FMUCM.

a»

Pottal Bureau, you perceive that your document hat not had
' dispatch. ' If salt water if ever a pretervative, your newi
ought not to be atale."

" Thank you. I hope the contents will prove worthy of the
care and labour of its transmission. I see it is dated Pari»— one
year ago, nearly. I am much obliged by your kind courtesy.
Good-dav."

Dr. Uargrove walked on, and somewhat disappointed in not
receiving a moiety of information by way of recompense, the
postmaster added :

" If you find it is not your letter, bring it back, and I will
start it on another voyage of discovery, for it certainly deserves
to get home."

« There is no doubt whatever about it. It was intended for

»/

me.

Unfolding the letter, he had glanced at the signature, and
now hurrying homeward, read as follows :

" Paris, Fthnmy 1»<, 18—.

" Rev. Peyton Harorovb : — Hoping that, while entirely
ignorant of the facts and circumstances, you unintentionally in-
flicted upon me an incalculable injury, I reluctantly address you
with reference to a subject fraught with inexpressible pain and
humiliation. Through your agency, the happiness and welfare
of my only child, and the proud and unblemished name of a
noble family, have been well-nigh wrecked ; but my profound
reverence for your holy office persuades s«e to believe tlgwt
you were unconsciously the dupe of unprincipled and designing
parties. When my son Cuthbert entered — — University,
he was all that my fond heart desired, all that his sainted mother
could have hoped, and no young gentleman on the wide conti-
nent gave fairer promise of future usefulness and distinction ;
but one year of demoralizing association with dissipated and
reckless youths undermined the fair moral and intellectual
structure I had so laboriously raised, and in an unlucky hour
he fell a victim to alluring vices. Intemperance gradually
gained such supremacy that be was threatened with expulsion,
and to crown all other errors, he was, while intoxicated, in-
veigled into a so-called marriage with a young but notorious
girl, whose only claim was her pretty face, while her situation
was hopelessly degraded. This creature, Minnie Merle, had
an infirm grandmother, who, in order to save the reputation of

INFELIOB,

M i

the unfortunate girl, appealed so adroitly to Outhbert'g hieh
sense of honour that her arguments, emphasized by the girl's
beauty and helplessness, prevailed over reason, and — may I add
—decency, — and one day nvhen almost mad with brandy and
morphine, he consented to call her his wife. Neither was of
age, and my son was not only a minor (lacking two months
of being twenty), but on that occasion was utterly irrational
and irresponsible, as I am prepared to prove. They intended
to conceal the whole shameful affair from me, but the old grand-
mother—fearing that some untoward circumstances might mar
the scheme of possessing the ample fortune she well knew my
boy expected to control — wrote me all the disgraceful facts,
imploring my clemency, and urging me to remove Guthbert
from associates outside of his classmates, who were dragging
him to ruin. If you, my dear sir, are a father (and I hope you
are), paternal sympathy will enable you to realize approximately
the grief, indignation, almost despairing rage into which I was
plunged. Having informed myself, through a special agent sent
to the University, of the utter unworthiness and disreputable
character of the connection forced upon me, I telegraphed for
Guthbert, alleging some extraneous cause for requiring his pre-
sence. Three days after his arrival at home, I extorted a full
confession from him — and we were soon upon the Atlantic.
For a time I feared that inebriation had seriously impaired his
intellect, but, thank God ! temperate habits and a good consti-
tution finally prevailed, and when, a year after we left America,
Guthbert realized all that he had hazarded during his tempo-
rary insanity, he was so overwhelmed with mortification and
horror, that he threatened to destroy himself. Satisfied that
he was more * sinned against than sinning/ 1 yet endeavoured
to deal justly with the unprincipled authors of the stain upon
my family, and employed a discreet agent to negotiate with
them, and to try to effect some compromise. The old woman
went out to Galifornia, the young one refused all overtures, and
for a time disappeared, but as I am reliably informed, is now
living in New York, supported no one knows — exactly — by
whom. Recently she made an imperious demand for the
recognition of a child, who, she declares, shall one day inherit
the Laurance estate, but I have certain facts in my possession
which invalidate this claim, and if necessary can produce a cer-
tificate to prove that the birth of the child occurred only seven
months after the date of the ceremony which she contends

tNFELlCt,

made her Cuthbert's wife. She rejeots the abundant pecuniary
provision which has been repeatedly offered, and, in her last
impertinent and insanely abusive communication, threatens a
suit to force the acknowledgment of the marriage, and of the
child ; — stating that you, sir, hold the certificate or rather the
license warranting the marriage, and that you will espouse and
aid in prosecuting her iniquitous claims. My son is now a re-
formed and comparatively happy man, but should this degrad-
ing and bitterly repented episode of his college life be thrust
before the pubUc, and allowed to blacken the fair escutcheon
We are so jealously anxious to protect, I dread the conse-
quences. Only horror of a notorious scandal prevented me long
ago from applying for a div^ ?, which could Tery easily have
been obtained, but we shriuio. .. om the publiciijr^ ana moreover
the case does not seem to demard compliance with even the
ordinary forms of law. Believing that you, my deat sii, would
not avow yourself par/tc^ps criminis in so unjust and vile a cru-
sade against the peace and honour of my family, were you
acquainted with the facts, I have taken the liberty of writing
you this brief and incomplete r^mi of the outrages perpetrated
upon me and mine, and must refer you for disgraceful details
to my agent, Mr. Peleg Peterson, of Whitefield, — — Co.,

. Hoping that you will not add to the injury you have

already inflicted by further complicity in this audacious scheme
of fraud and bladouail,

" I am, dear Sir, respectfully,

'' An afflicted father,

** Bene Iausance.

" P.S. — Should you desire to communicate with me, my ad-
dress for several months will be, care of American Legation,
Paris."

How many men or women, with lives of average length and
incident, have failed to recognise, nay, to cower before the fact,
that all along the highways and byways of the earthly pilgrim-
age they have been hounded by a dismal cortege of retarded
messages, — lost opportunities, — miscarried warnings, — procras-
tinated prayers,— diiatory deeds, — and laggard faces, — that
howl for ever in their shuddering ears — " Too Late." Had Dr.
Hargrove received this letter only twenty-four hours earlier,
the result of the interview on the previous night would pro-

""«l'»IM»WHHIIIIh»i».j«|. .

tNFELICE.

bably have been very different ; but, unfortunately, while the
army of belated facts — the fatal Grouchy corps — never accom-
plish their intended mission, they avenge their failure by a
pertinacious presence ever after, that is sometimes almost
maddening.

An uncomfortable consciousness of having been completely
overreached, did not soften the minister's feelings toward the
new custodian of his tin box, and an utter revulsion of senti-
ment ensued, wherein sympathy for Gen. Ben6 Laurance
reigned supreme. Oh, instability of human compassion ! To-
day at the tumultuous flood, — we weep for Caesar slain ; to-
morrow in the ebb, — we vote a monument to Brutus.

Ere the sun had gone down behind the sombre frozen firs

that fringed the hills of V , Dr. Hargrove had written to

Mr. Peleg Peterson, desiring to be furnished with some clue by
which he could trace Minnie Merle, and Hannah had been
despatched to the Post Office, to expedite the departure of the
letter.

Weeks and months passed, tearful April wept itself away in
the flowery lap of blue-eyed May, and golden June roses died
in the fiery embrace of July, but no answer came — no addi-
tional information drifted upon the waves of chance, and the
slow stream of life at the Parsonage once more crept silently
and monotonously on.

'* Some ffrlefs gnaw deep. Some woe* are hard to bear.
Who £Dowa the Fast? and who can judge us riglit?"

CHAPTER III.

^HE sweot-tongued convent bell had rung the Angelus,
and aL within the cloistered courts was hushed, save
the low monolo^e of the fountain whose miuor mur-
muring made solemn accord with the sacred harmonious
repose of its surroundings. The sun shone hot and
blindine upon the towering mass of brick and slate which,
originally designed in the form of a parallelogram, had from
numerous modem additions projected here, and curved into a

INFEUCE

new chapel yonder, until the acquisitive building had become
eminently composite in its present style of archiWeture. Tlie
belfry, once in the centre, had been left behind in the onward
march of the walls, but it lifted unconquerably in mid-air its
tall gUt cross, untarnished by time, though ambitious ivy had
steady mounted the buttresses, and partially draped the Gothic
arches, where blue air once shone freely through.

The court upon which the ancient monastery opened was laid
out in the stiff geometric style which universally prevailed
when its trim hedges of box were first planted, and giant rose-
bushes, stately lilacs and snowballs attested the careful training
and attention which many years had bestowed. In the centre
of this court, and surrounded by a wide border of luxuriant
lilies, was a triangular pedestal of granite, now green with moss,
and spotted with silver gray lichen groups, upon which stood
a statue of St. Francis, bearing the stigmata, and wearing the
hood drawn over his head, while the tunic was opened to dis
play the wound in his side, and the skull and the crucifix lay
at his feet. Close to the base of the pedestal crouched a marble
.lamb, around whose neck crept a slender chain of bind-weed,
and above whom the rank green lances of leaves shot up to
guard the numerous silver-dusted lilies that swung like snowy
bells in the soft breeze, dispensing perfume instead of chimes.

Quite distinct from the spacious new chapel, — with its gilded
shrine, picture-tapestried walls, and gorgeous stained windows,
where the outside-world believers were allowed to worship, —
stood a low cruciform oratory, situated within the stricter con-
fines of the monastery, and sacred to the exclusive use of the
nuns. This chapel was immediately opposite the St. Francis,
and to-day, as the old-iashioned doors of elaborately carved
oak were thrown wide, the lovely mass of nodding lilies seemed
bowing in aderation before the image of the Virgin and Child,
who crowned the altar within, while the dazzling sheen of noon
flashing athwart the tessellated floor, kindled an almost un
earthly halo around.

''Virgin, and Babe and Saint, who
With the same cold, cidm, beautiful regard,

had watched for many weary years the kneeling devotees, be-
neath their marble feet.

On the steps of the altar were a number of china pots cor
taining rose and apple geraniums in iiill bloom, and one luxu-

INFELICE.

riant Grand Duke jasmine all starred with creamy flowers, so
flooded the place with fragrance, that it seemed as if the vast
laboratory of floral aromas had been suddenly unsealed.

Upon the stone pavement inmiediately in front of the altar,
sat a little figure so motionless, that a casual glance would pro-
bably have included it among the consecrated and permanent
images of the silent sanctuary ; — the figure of a child, whose
age could not have been accurately computed from the inspec-
tion of the countenance, which indexed a degree of grave ma-
ture wisdom wholly incompatible with the height of the body
and the size of the limbs.

If devotional promptings had brought her to the Nun's
Chapel, her orisons had been concluded, for she had turned her
back upon the altar, and sat gazing sorrowfully down at her
lap, where lay in pathetic pose a white rabbit and a snowy pi-
geon — ^both dead — quite stark and cold — ^laid out in state upon
the spotless linen apron, around which a fluted ruflle ran crisp
and smooth. One tiny waxen hand held a broken lily, and the
other was vainly pressed upon the lids of the rabbit's eyes, try-
ing to close lovingly the pink orbs, that now stared so distress^
ingly through glazing film. The first passionate burst of grieL
had spent its force in the tears that left the velvety cheeks and
chin as dewy as rain-washed rose leaves, while not a trace of
moisture dimmed the large eyes that wore a proud, defiant,
and much injured look, as though resentment were strangling
sorrow.

Unto whom or what shall I liken this fair, tender, childish
face, which had in the narrow space of ten years gathered such
perfection of outline, such unearthly purity of colour, such
winsome grace, such complex expre£<sions ) Probably amid the
fig and olive groves of Tuscany, Fra Bartolomeo found just
such an incarnation of the angelic ideal, which he afterward
placed, for the admiration of succeeding generations, in the
winged heads that glorify the Madonna della Misericordia. The
stipple of time dots so lightly, so slowly, that at the age of ten,
a human countenance should present a mere fleshy tabula rasa,
but now and then we are startled by meeting a child as unlike
the round, rosy, pulpy, dimpling, unwritten faces of ordinary
life, as the cherubs of Raphael, to the rigid forms of Byzan-
tine mosaics, or the stone portraiture of Copan.

As she sat there, in the golden radiance of the summer noon,
she presented an almost faultless specimen of a type of beauty

INFSLIOB.

that is rarely found now-a-day, that has always been peculiar,
and bids fair to beuome extinct. A complexion of dazzling
whiteness and transparency, rendered more intensely pure by
contrast with luxuriant silky hair of the deepest black — and
large superbly shaped eyes of clear, dark steel blue, almost
violet in hue — with delicately arched brows and very long lashes
of that purplish black tint which only the trite and oft-bor-
rowed plumes of ravens adequately illustrate. The forehead
was not remarkable for height, but was peculiarly broad and
full, with unusual width between the eyes ; and if Strato were
correct in his speculations with reference to Psyche's throne,
then, verily, my little girl did not cramp her soul in its fleshy
palace. Daintily moulded in figure and face, every feature
instinct with a certain delicate patricianism, that testified to
genuine " blue blood," there was withal a melting tenderness
about the parted lips that softened the regal contoUr of one
who, amid the universal catalogue of feminine names, could
never have been appropriately called other than Regina.

Over in the new chapel across the court, where the sacristan
had opened two of the crimson and green windows that now
light^ the gilt altar as with sacrificial fire, and now drenched
it with cool beryl tints that extinguished the flames — a low mur-
mur became audible, swelling and rising upon the air, until the
thunder-throated organ filled all the cloistered recesses with re-
sponsive echoes of Rossini. Some masterly hand played the
Recitative of " Eia Mater," bringing out the bass with powerful
emphasis, and concluding with the full strains of the chorus ; —
then the organ-tones sank into solemn minor chords indescrib-
ably plaintive, and after a while a quartette of clear voices sang
the

*' Sanota Mater ! istud agas,
Grucifixi fige plagas," —

ending with
Mater,"—

the most impassioned strain of the "Stabat

" Virgo virginum proeclara,
Mihi jam non sis amara,
Fao me tecum plangere."

Two nuns came out of an arched doorway leading to the
reception room of the modern building, and looked up and
down the garden walks, talking the while in eager undertones ;
then paused near the lily bank, and one called :

" Regina ! ~ "

Regina !

INFSLICB.

She must be somewhere in the Academy play-ground, I
will hunt for her there ; or perhaps you might find her over in
the church, listening to the choir practising ; you know she is
strangely fond of that organ."

The speaker turned away and disappeared in the cool dim
arch, and the remaining nun moved across the paved walk,
with the quick, noiseless, religious tread peculiar to those
sacred conventual retreats, where the clatter of heels is an
abomination unknown.

Pausing in front of the chapel door, to bend low before the
marble Mother on the shrine, she beheld the object of her
search and glided down the aisle as stealthily as a moonbeam.

" Regina, didn't you hear Sister Gonzaga calling you just
now 1 "

" Yes, Sister."

" Did you answer her 1 "

V.No, Sister." ,

" Are you naughty to-day, and in penance t * v

*' I suppose I am always naughty, Sister Perpetua says so—
but I am not in penance."

" Who gave you permission to come into our Chapel % You
know it is contrary to the rules. Did you ask Mother % "

" I knew she would say no, so I did not ask, because I was
determined to come."

" Why 1 what is the matter 1 you have been crying."

" Oh, Sister Angela ! — don't you see 1"

She lifted the corners of her apron where the dead pets lay,
and her chin trembled.

" Anoth js rabbit gone How many have you left 1 "

" None. And this is my last white dove ; the other two
have coloured rings around their necks."

" I am very sorry for you, dear, you seem so fond of them.
But, my child, why did you come here 1 **

** My bunnie was not dead when I started, and I thought if
I could only get to St. Francis and show it to him, he would
cure it, and send life back to my pigeon too. You know.
Sister, that Father told us last week at instruction we must
find out all about St. Francis, and next day Armantine was
Refectory Reader, and she read us about St. Fra^'Hs preaching,
to the birds at Bevagno, and how they opei.e:l bheir beaks
and listened, and even let him touch them, and never stirred
till he blessed them and made the sign of the cross, and then

in
is

Ik,
)Be

.he
ler
km.
ust

INFELICB.

fou

they all flew awaj. She read all about the doves at the con-
vent of Ravacciano, and the nest of larks, and the bad greedy
little lark that St. Francis ordered to die, and said nothing
should eat it; and sure enough, even the hungry cats ran
away from it. Don't you remember that when St. Francis
went walking about the fields, the rabbits jumped into his
bosom, because he loved them so very much ? You see I
thought it was really all true, and that St. Francis could save
mine too, and I carried ' Bunnie ' and ' Snowball ' to him,
out yonder, and laid them on his feet, and prayed, and prayed,
ever so long, and while I was praying, my ' Bunny ' died
right there. Then I knew he could do no good, and I thought
I would try our Blessed Lady over here, because the Nun's
Chapel seems holier than ours, but it is no use. I will never
pray to her again, nor to St. Francis either."

" Hush I you wicked child ! "

Regina rose slowly from the pavement, gathered up ber
apron very tenderly, and looking steadily into the street serene
face of the nun, said with much emphasis :

" What have I done 1 Sister Angela, I am not wicked."

" Yes, dear, you are. "We are all born full of sin, and despe-
rately wicked ; but if you will only pray and try to be good, I
have no doubt St. Francis will send you some rabbits and
doves so lovely, that they will comfort you for those you have
lost."

" I know just as well as you do that he has no idea of doing
anything of the kind, and you need not tell me pretty tales
that you don't believe yourself. Sister, it is all humbug :
'Bunnie ' is dead, and I shan't waste another prayer on St.
Francis ! If ever I get another rabbit, it will be when I buy
one, — as I mean to do just as soon as I move to some nice
place where owls and hawks never come."

Here the clang of a bell startled Sister Angela, who seized
the child's hand.

" Five strokes ! — that is my bell. Come, Begina, we have
been hunting you for some time, and Mother will be out of
patience."

" Won't you please let me bury Bunnie and Snowball before
I go upstairs to penance ? I can dig a grave in the corner
of my little garden, and plant verbena and cypress vine over
it."

She shivered as if the thought had chilled her heart, and

18 INFELICE.

her voice trembled, while she pressed the stiffened forms to
her breast.

" Come along as fast as you can, dear, you are wanted in the
parlour. 1 believe you are going away."

" Oh ! has my mother come )

" I don't know, but t am afraid you will leave us."

" Will you be sorry, Sister Angela ? "

*• Very sorry, dear child, for we love our little girl too well
to give her up willingly."

Regina paused and pressed her lips to the cold white fingers
that clasped hers, but Sister Angela hurried her on, till she
reached a door opening into the Mother's reception room.
Catching the child to her heart, she kissed her twice, lifted the
dead darlings from her apron, and pushing her gently into the
small parlour, closed the door.

It was a cool, lofty, dimly lighted room, where the glare of
sunshine never entered, and several seconds elapsed before
Eegina could distinguish any object. At one end a wooden
lattice work enclosed a space about ten feet square, and here
Mother Aloysius held audience with visitors whom friendship
or business brought to the convent. Begina's eager survey
showed her only a gentleman, sitting close to the grating, and
an expression of keen disappointment swept over her counte-
nance, which had been a moment before eloquent with expec-
tation of meeting her mother.

" Come here, Regina, and speak to Mr. Palma," said the soft,
velvet voice behind the lattice.

The visitor turned round, rose, and watched the slowly
advancing figure.

She was dressed in blue muslin, the front of which was con-
cealed by her white bib-apron, and her abundant glossy hair
was brushed straight back from her brow, confined at the top
of her head by a blue ribbon, and thence fell in shining waves
below her waist. One hand hung listlessly at her side, the
other clasped the drooping lily and held it against her heart.

The slightly curious expression of the stranger gave place to
astonishment and involuntary admiration as he critically in-
spected the face and form ; and fixing her clear, earnest eyes
on him, Begina saw a tall, commanding man of certainly not less
than thirty years, with a noble massive head, calm, pale features
almost stem when in repose, and remarkably brilliant piercing
black eyes, that were doubtless somewhat magnified by the

♦

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if

ii
a
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d

INMUCE,

, *■

;ure8

delicate steel-rimmed ipectacles he habitually wore. His close
ly cut hair clustered in short thick waves about his prominent
forehead, which in pallid smoothness rf ^bled a slab ot
marble, and where a slight depression usually ^arks the temples,
his swelled boldly out, rounding the entire outline of the
splendidly developed brow. He wore neither moustache nor
beard, and every line of his handsome mouth and finely mod-
elled chin indicated the unbending tenacity of purpose, and
imperial pride which had made him a ruler even in his cradle,
and almost a dictator in later years.

In a certain diminished degree, children share the instinct
whereby brutes discern almost infallibly the nature of those
who in full fruition of expanded reason tower above and control
them ; and awed by something which sho read in this domina-
tive new face, Begina stood irresolute in front of him, unwilling
to accept the shapely white hand held out to her.

He advanced a step, and took her fingers into his soft warm
palm.

" I hope. Miss Regina, that you are glad to see me.."

Her eyes fell from his countenance to the broad seal ring on
his little finger, — then gazing steadily up into his, she said :

" I think 1 never saw you before — and why should I be glad 1
Why did you come, and ask for me ) "

" Because your mother sent me to look after you."

" Then I suppose, sir, you are very good ; but I would rather
see my mother. Is she well 1 "

" Almost well now, though she has been quite ill. If you
promise to be very good and obedient, I may find a letter for
}'ou, somewhere in my pockets. I have just been telling
Mother Aloysius, to whom I brought a letter, that I have come
to remove you from her kind sheltering care, as your mother
wishes you, for a while at least, to be placed in a difierent po-
sition, and I have promised to carry out her instructions. Here
is her letter. Shall I read it to you, or are you sufficiently ad-
vanced to be able to spell it out, without my assistance 1 "

He held up the letter, and she looked at him proudly, with a
faint curl in her dainty lip, and a sudden lifting of her lovely
arched eyebrows, which, without the aid of verbal protest, he
fully comprehended. A smile hovered about his mouth, and
disclosed a set of glittering perfect teeth, but he silently re-
sumed his seat. As Begina broke the seal. Mother said :

" Wait, dear, and read it later. Mr. Palma has already been

INFBLIOB.

ietained some time, and says he is auzious to oatoh the train.
Ran up to the wardrobe, and Sister Helena will change your
dress. She is packing your clothes;"

When the door closed behind her, a heavy sigh floated
through the grating, and the sweet seraphic face of the nun
clouded.

" I wish we eould keep her always ; it is a«adly solemn thing
to cast such a child as she is into the world's whirlpool of sin
and sorrow. To-day she is as spotless in soul as one of our
consecrated annunciation lilies — but the dust of vanity and self-
ishness will tarnish —and the shock of adversity will bruise —
and the heat of the battle of life, that rages so fiercely in the
glare of the outside world, will wither and deface the sweet
blossom we have nurtured so carefully."

" In view of the peculiar circumstances that surround her,
her removal impresses me as singularly injudicious, and I have
advised against it, but her mother is inflexible."

" We have never been able to unravel the mystery that
seems to hang aboub the child, although the Bishop assured us
we were quite right in consenting to assume the charge ol
her."

From beneath her heavy black hood, Mother's meek shy
eyes searched the non-committal countenance before her, and
found it about as satisfactorily responuive as some stone sphinx
half-sepulchred in Egyptic sand.

" May I ask, sir, ^you are at all related to Begina ) '

" Not even remotely ; am merely her mother's legal counsel-
lor, and the agent appointed by her to transfer the child to
different guardianship. I repeat, I deem the change inexpe
dient, but discretionary powers have not been conferred on me.
She seems rather a mature bit of royalty for ten years of age.
Is the intellectual machinery at all in consonance with the re-
fined perfection of the external phvsique ? '

" She has a fine active brain, clear and quick, and is very
well advanced in her studies, for she is fond of her books.
Better than all, her heart is noble and generous, and she is a
conscientious little thing, never told a story in her life— but
at times we have had great difficulty in controlling her will,
which certainly is the most obstinate I have ever (Mioountered."

" She evidently does not suggest wax — save in the texture
of her fine skin, and one rarely finds in a child's face so much
of steel as is ambushed iu the creases of Uie rose leaves

;s.

11,

IlfFBLIOE.

ait

that serve her as lips, if her will matches her mother'n,
little one certainly was not afflicted with a misnomer at
baptism."

fle rose, looked at his watch, and walked across the room,
as if to inspect a Pieta that hung upon the wall. 'nwilling
to conclude an interview which had yielded her no informa-
tion. Mother Aloysius patiently awaited the result of the ex-
amination ; but he finally went to the window, and a certain
unmistakable expression of countenance — which can be com-
pared only to a locking of mouth and eyes — warned her that
he was alert and inflexible. With a smothered sigh she left
her seat.

*< As you seem impatient, Mr. Palma, I will endeavour to
hasten the preparations for your departure."

"If you please, Mother ^ I shall feel indebted to your kind
consideration."

Nearly an hour elapsed ere she returned, leading Regina, and
as the latter stood between Mother and Sister Angela, with a
cluster of fresh fragrant lilies in her hand, and her tender face
blanched and tearful, it seemed to the lawyer as if indeed the
pet ewe lamb were being led away from peaceful flowery pas-
tures, from the sweet sanctity of the cloistral fold — out through
thorny, devious paths, where Temptations prowl wolf-fanged —
or into fierce conflicts that end in the social shambles — those
bloodless abattoirs where malice mangles humanity. How
many verdure-veiled, rose-garlanded pitfalls yawned in that
treacherous future, now stretching before her like summer air,
here all gold and blue — yonder with purple glory crowning the
dim far away 1 Intuitively she recognised the fact that she
was confronting the first cross roads in her hitherto monoto-
nous life, and a vague dread flitted like ill-omened birds before
her, darkening her vision.

In the gladiatorial arena of the Court room. At. Palma was
regarded as a large-brained, nimble-witted, marble-hearted
man, of vast ambition and tireless energy in the acquisition of
his aims ; but his colleagues and clients would as soon have
sought chivalric lienderness in a bronze statue or a polished
obelisk of porphyry. To-day as he curiously watched the
quivering yet proud little girlish face, her brave struggles to
meet the emergency touched some chord far down in his re-
ticent, stern nature, and he suddenly stooped, and took her
hand, folding it up securely. in his.

■■u'^'r-fv^i

INFELICE.

" Are you not quite willine to trust yourself with me 1 '

She hesitated a moment ; then said, with a slight wavering in
her low tone :

" I have been very happy here, and 1 love the Sisters dearly,
but you are my mother's friend, and whatever she wishes me
to do, of course, must be right."

Oh, beautiful instinctive faith in maternal love and maternal
wisdom ! Wot ye the moulding power ye wield, ye Mothers of
America 7

Pressing her fingers gently as if to reassure her, he said :

*' I dislilce to hurry you away from these kind Sisters, but if
your baggage is readv we have no time to spare."

The nuns wept silently as she embraced them for the last
time, kissed them on both cheeks, then turned and su£fered Mr.
Palma to lead her to the carriage, whither her trunk had already
been sent.

Leaning out, she watched the receding outlines of the con-
vent until a bend of the road concealed even the belfry, and
then she stooped and kissed the drooping lilies in her lap.

Her companion expected a burst of tears, but she sat erect
and quiet, and not a word was uttered until they reached the
railway station and entered the cars. Securing a double seat,
he placed her at the window, and sat down opposite. It was
her introduction to railway travel, and when tne train moved
off, and the locomotive sounded its prolonged shriek of depar-
ture, Begina started up, but, as if ashamed of her timidity,
coloured and bit her lip. Observing that she appeared inte-
rested in watching the country through which they sped, Mr.
Palma drew a book from his valise, and soon became so ab-
sorbed in the contents, that he forgot the silent figure on the
seat before him.

The afternoon wore away, the sun went down, and, when
the lamps were lighted, the lawyer suddenly remembered his
charge.

" Well, Regina, how do you like travelling on the cars % "

*'Not at all; it makes my head ache."

** Take off your hat, and I will try to make you more com-
fortable."

He untied a shawl secured to the outside of his valise,
placed it on the arm of the s. it, and made her lay her head
upon it.

Keeping his finger as a mark amid Jie leaves of his book, he
said:

INFEUOM,

^'Wa shall not reach our journey's end until to-morrow
morning, and 1 advise you to sleep as muoh as possible. When-
ever you feel hungry, you will find some sandwiches, cake, and
fruit, in the basket at your feet."

She looked at !iim intently, and, interpreting the expression,
he added :

" You wish to ask me something t Am I so very frightful
that you dare not question me 1 "

" Will you tell me the truth if I ask you t "

** Most assuredly. "

" Mr. Palma, when shall I see my mother 1 "

His eyes went down helplessly before the girl's steady gase,
and he hesitated a moment.

" Really, I cannot tell exactly — ^but I hope — "

She put up her small hand quickly, with a gesture that
silenced him.

" Don't say any more, please. I never want to know haU
of anything, and you can't tell me alL Gk)od night, Mr.
Palma."

She shut her eyes.

This man of bronze, who could terrify witnesses, torture and
overwhelm the opposition, and thunder so successfully from the
legal rostrum, sat there abashed bv the child's tone and man-
ner, and at he watched her, he could not avoid smiling at her
imperious mandate. Although silent, it was one o'clock before
she fell into a deep, sound slumber, and then the lawyer leaned
forward and studied the dreamer.

The light from the lamp shone upon her, and the long silky
black lashes lay heavily on her white cheeks. Now and then a
sigh passed her lips, and once a dry sob shook her frame, as if
she were asain passing through the painful ordeal of parting ;
but gradually the traces of emotion disappeared, and that mar-
vellous peace which we find only in children's countenances, or
on the faces of the dead — and which is nowhere more perfect
than in old Greek statuary — settled like a benediction over her
features. Her frail hands, clasped over her breast, still held
the faded lilies, and to Erie Palma she seemed too tender and
fair for rude contact with the selfish world, in which he was so
indefatigably carving out fame and fortune. He wondered how
long a time would be requisite to transform this pure, spotless,
ingenuous young tlung into one of the fine fashionable minia-
ture women with frizzed hair and hxxg<b panierSf whom he often

mm.-

»»

INFELICE.

met in the city, with school-books in their hands, and bold,
full-blown coquetry in their eyes 1

Oertainly he was as devoid of all romantic weakness as the
propositions of Euclid or the pages of Blackstone, but some-
thing in the beauty and helpless innocence of the sleeper ap-
pealed with unwonted power to his dormant sympathy, and
suspecting that lurking spectres crouched in her future, he
mutely entered into a compact with his own soul not to lose
sight of, but to befriend her faithfully whenever circumstances
demanded succour.

" Upon my word, she looks like a piece of Greek sculpture,
and be her father whom he may, there is no better blood than
beats there at her little dimpled wrists. The pencilling of the
eyebrows is simply perfect."

He spoke inaudibly, and just then she stirred and turned.
As she moved, something white fluttered from one of the ruffled
pockets of her apron, and fell to the floor. He picked it up,
and saw it was the letter he had given her some hours before.
The sheet was folded loosely, and glancing at it as it opened
in his hand, he saw in delicate characters : " Oh, my baby —
my darling ! Be patient and trust your mother." An irre-
sistible impulse made him look up, and the beautiful solemn
eyes of the girl were fixed upon him, — but instantly her black
lashes covered them.

For the first time in years, he felt the flush of shame mount
into his cold haughty face, yet even then he noted the refined
delicacy which made her feign sleep.

"Reginal"

She made no movement.

" Child, I know you are awake. Do you suppose I would
stoop to read your letter clandestinely ? It dropped from your
pocket, and I have seen only one line."

She put out her slender hand, took the letter and answered :

" My mother writes me that you are her best friend, tiud I
intend to believe that all you say is true."

«' Do you think I read your letter % "

« I shall think no more about it."

*' I will paint her aa I see her.
Ten times have the lilies blown
Since she looked upon the sun.
Face and figure of a child —
lliough too calm, you think, and tender.
For the childhood you would lend her.''

MNFELICE.

CHAPTER IV.

INDEED, Peyton, you distress me. What can be the
matter 1 I heard you walking the floor of your room
long after midnight, and feared you were ill.''

" Not ill, Elise, but sorely perplexed. If I felt at
liberty to communicate all the circumstances to you,
doubtless you would readily comprehend and sympathize with
the peculiar difficulties that surround me j but unfortunately I
am bound by a promise which prevents me from placing all the
facts in your possession. Occasionally ministers involuntarily
become the custodians of family secrets that oppress their hearts
and burden them with unwelcome responsibility, and just now
I am suffering from the consequences of a rash promise which
compassion extorted from me years ago. While I heartily
regret it, my conscience will not permit me to fail in its fulfil-
ment."

An expression of pain and wounded pride overshadowed
Mrs. Lindsay's usually bright, happy face.

" Peyton, surely you do not share the unjust opinion so
fashionable now-a-day that women are unworthy of being en-
trusted with a secret % What has so suddenly imbued you
with distrust of the sister who has always shared your cares,
and endeavoured to divide your sorrows ) Do you believe me
capable of betraying your confidence 1 "

" No, dear. In all that concerns myself, you must know I
trust you implicitly — trust not only your affection, but your
womanly discretion, your subtle critical judgment ; but I have
no right to commit even to your careful guardianship some
facts which were expressly confided solely to my own."

He laid his hand on his sister's shoulder, and looked fondly,
almost pleadingly, into her clouded countenaace, but the flush
deepened on her fair cheek.

" The conditions of secrecy, the envelope of mystery, strongly
implies something socially disgraceful, or radically wicked, and
ministers of the Gospel should not constitute themselves the
locked reservoirs of such turbid streams."

" Granting that you actually believe in your own supposition^

fW!fe^;?'-'.;)«<i'*Bf;

'^^^

INFELICS.

why are you so anxious to pollute your ears with the recital of
circumstances that you assume to be degrading or sinful ? "

" I only fear your misplaced sympathy may induce you to
compromise your ministerial dignity and consistency, for it is
quite evident to me, that your judgment does not now acquit
you in this matter, whatever it may be."

'< God forbid that, in obeying the dictates of my conscience, I
should transgress even conventional propriety, or incur the
charge of indiscretion. None can realize more keqply than I,
that a minister's character is of the same delicate magnolia-leaf
texture as a woman's name, — a thing so easily stained that it
must be ever elevated beyond the cleaving dust of suspicion,
and the scorching breath of gossiping conjecture. The time has
passed (did it ever really exist 1) when the prestige of the pas-
toral office hedged it around with impervious infallibility, and
to-day, instead of partial and extenuating leniency, pure and
uncontaminated society justly denies all ministerial immunities
as regards the rigid mandates of social decorum and propriety,
and the world demands that instead of drawing heavily upon an
indefinite fund of charitable confidence and trust in the clergy,
pulpit-people should so live and move that the microscope
of pubUc scrutiny can reveal no flaws. Do you imagine I share
the dangerous heresy that the sanctity of the office entitles the
incumbent to make a football of the restrictions of prudence
and discretion ? Elise, I hold that pastors should be as circum-
spect, as guarded as Roman vestals ; and untainted society,
guided by even the average standard of propriety, tolerates no
latitudinarians among its Levites. I grieve that it is necessary
for me to add, that I honour, and bow in obedience to its
exactions."

The chilling severity cf his tone smote like a flail the loving
heart which had rebelled only against the apparent lack of
faith in its owner, and springing torward Mrs. Lindsay threw
her arms around her brother's neck.

** Oh, Peyton ! don't look at me so sternly, as if I were a sort
of domestic Caiaphas set to catechise and condemn you ; or as
if I were unjustly impugning your motives. It is all your fault,
— of course it is, — for you have spoiled me by unreserved con-
iideuce heretofore, — and you ought not to blame me in the least
for feeling hurt when at this late day you indulge in mysteries.
Now, kiss me and forget my ugly temper, and set it all down
^0 that Pandora legacy of sleepless curiosity which dear mother

II^FELICS.

Eve received in her imprudent tite-ct-Uie with the serpent, and
which she spitefully saw fit to bequeath to every daughter who
has succeeded her. So — we are at peace once more I Now
keep your horrid secrets to yourself, and welcome ! "

" You persist in believing that they must inevitably be hor-
rid ? " wid he, softly stroking her rosy cheek with his open
palm.

" I persist in begging that you will not expect me to adopt
the acrobatic style, or require me to instantly attain sanctifica-
tion per saltum I You must be satisfied with the assurance
that you are indeed my ' Koyal Highness,* and that in my
creed it is writ a the king can do no wrong. There, dear — I
am not at ail addicted to humble pie, and I have already dis-
posed of a large and unpalatable slice."

She made a grimace, whereat he smiled, kissed her again,
and ans'< ered very gently:

" Will you permit me to put an appendix to your creed ?
* Charity suffereth long and is kind ; is not easily provoked ;
thinketh no evil.' My sister, I want you to help me. In some
things I find myself as powerless without your co-operation as
a pair of scissors with the rivet lost ; I cannot cut through ob-
stacles unless you are in the proper place."

" For shame, you spiteful Pequod ! to rivet your treacher-
ous appeal with so sharply pointed an illustration ! Scissors
indeed ! I will be revenged by cutting all your work after a
biased fashion. How would it suit you, Eeverend Sir, to take
the rivet out of my tongue, and repair your clerical scissors 1 "

" How narrowly you escaped being a genius ! That is pre-
cisely what I was about proposing to do j and now, dear, be sure
you bid adieu to all bias. Elise, I received a letter two days
since, which annoyed me beyond expression."

" I inferred as much, from the vindictive energy with which
you thrust it into the fire, and bored it with the end of the
poker. Was it infected with small-pox or leprosy 1 "

She opened her work basket, and began to crochet vigor-
ously, keeping her eyes upon her needle.

" Neither. I destroyed it simply and solely because it was
the earnest request of the writer that I should commit it to
the flames."

" Par parenthkse ! from the beginning of time, have not dis-
cord, mischief, trouble, been personified by females 1 Ha*
there been a serious imbroglio since the days of Troy without

INFEUCB.

some vexatious Helen 1 Now don't scold me, if in this case 1
conjecture— He? She'i It?"

" The letter was from a mother, pleading for her child, whom
I several years ago promised to protect and to befriend. Sub-
sequent events induced me to hope that she would never exact
a fulfilment of the pledge, and I was unpleasantly surprised
when the appeal reached me."

" Let me understand fully the little that you have to tell me.
Do you mean that you were unprepared for the demand, be-
cause the mother had forfeited the conditions under which you
gave the promise ? "

" You unduly intensify the interpretation. My promise was
unconditional, but I certainly have never expected to be called
upon to verify it."

" What does it involve ? "

" The temporary guardianship of a child ten years old, whom
I have never seen."

"Hel Shel It?"

" A girl, who will in all probability arrive before noon to-
day."

« Peyton ! "

The rose-coloured crochet web fell into her lap, and deep
dissatisfaction spread its sombre leaden banners over her tell-
tale face.

" I regret it more keenly than you possibly can, and Elise,
if I could have seen the mother before it was too late, I should
have declined this painful responsibility."

" Too late ? Is the woman dead ? »

" No, but she has sailed for Europe, and notifies me that
she leaves the little girl under my protection."

"What a heartless creature she must be, to abandon her
child."

" On the contrary, she seems devotedly attached to her, and
uses these words : ' If it were not to promote her interest, do
you suppose I could consent to put the Atlantic between my
baby and me?' The circumstances are so unusual, that I
daresay you fail to understand my exact position."

" I neither desire nor intend to force your confidence, but if
you can willingly answer, tell me whether the mother is in every
respect worthy of your sympathy ? "

" I frankly admit that upon some points I have been dis-
satufied, and her letter sorely perplexes me."

TNFELICE.

"What claim had she on you when the promise was
extorted?"

" She had none, save such as human misery always has on
human sympathy. I performed the marriage ceremony for her
when she was a mere child, and felt profound compassion for
the wretchedness that soon overtook her as a wife and mother."

" Then, my dear brother, there is no alternative, and you
must do your duty — and I shall not fail to help you to the full-
est extent of my feeble ability. Since it cannot be averted,
let us try to put our hearts as well as hands into the work of
receiving the waif. Where has the child been living 1 "

" For nearly seven years in a convent."

** Tant mimx t We may at least safely infer she has been
shielcted from vicious and objectionable companionship. How
is her edudsttion to be conducted in future 1 "

" Her;a[iother has arranged for the semi-annual payment of a
sum quite sufficient to defray all necessary expenses, including
tuition at school, but she urges me, if compatible with my cleri-
cal duties, to retain the school-fees, and teach the child at home,
as she dreads outside contaminating associations, and wishes
the little one reared with rigid ideas of rectitude and propriety.
Will you receive her among your music pupils ? "

" Have I a heart of steel, and a soul of flint % And since
when did you successfully trace my pedigree to its amiable
source in —

* Oorgons and hydras and chimeras dire ?'

What is her name 1 "

Mr. Hargrove hesitated a moment, and detecting the faint
colour that tinged his olive cheek, his sister smilingly relieved
him.

" Never mind, dear. What immense latitude we are allowed '
If she prove a mere sweet cherub, a very saint in bib-aprons- -
with velvety eyes brown as a hazel nut, and silky chestnut
ringlets — I shall gather her into my heart and coo over her as
Columba, or Umilta, or Umbeline, or Una ; but should we
find her spoiled, and thoroughly leavened with iniquity — a
blonde yellow haired-tornado — then a proper regard for the
* unities' will suggest that I vigorously enter a Christian pro-
test and lecture her grimly as Jezebel, Tomyris, Fulvia or
Clytemnestra."

" She shall be called Kegina Orme, and if it will not too

4»

l£fjfJSLICjll.

heavily tax your kindnens, I should like to give her the small
room next your own, and ask Douglass to move across the hall
and take the front chamber opening on the verandah. The
little girl may be timid, and it would comfort her to feel that
you are within call, should she be sic^ or become frightened. I
am sure Douglass will not object to the change.''

" Certainly not. Blessings on his royal heart ! He would
not be my <)wn noble boy if he failed to obey any wish of yours.
I will at once superintend the transfer of his books and clothes,
for if the child comes to-day, you have left me little time for
preparation."

Sh3 put away the crochet basket, and, looking alBTectionately
at the grave face that watched her movements, said soberly :

" Do not lool so lugubrious ; remember Abraham's example
of hospitality, an i let us do all we can for this motherless lamb,
or kid — whichever she may prove. One thing more, and
hereafter I shall hold my peace. You need aot live in dbronic
dread lest the Qtuy Fawkes of female curiosity pry into and ex-
plode your mystery ; for I assure you, Peyton, I shall never
directly or indirectly question the child, and until you volun-
tarily broach the subject, I shall never mertion it to you. Are
you satisfied 1 "

" Fully satisfied with my sister, and inexpressibly grateful
for her unquestioning faith in me."

She swept him an exaggerated courtesy, and despite the gray
threads that began to glint in her auburn hair, ran up the stair-
way as lightly as a girl of fifteen.

For some time he stood with his hands behind him, gazing
abstractedly through the open window, and now and then he
heard the busy patter of hurrying feet in the room overhead,
while snatches of Easter anthems, and the swelling " Amen "
of a "Gloria" rolled down the steps, assuring him that all
doubt and suspicion had been ejected from the faithful, fond,
sisterly heart.

Taking his broad brimmed gardening hat from the table, the
pastor went down among his flower-beds, followed by Biorn, to
whose innate asperity of temper was added the snarling fret-
fulness of old age.

A fine young brood of white Brahma chickens having sur-
reptitiously effected an entrance into the sacred precincts of the
flower-garden, were now diligently prosecuting their experi-
ments in entomology, right in the heart of a border of choice

INFELICE.

ftl

carnations. When Biom had chased the marauders to the con-
fines of the poultry yard, and watched the last awkward
fledgeling scramble through the palines, his master began to
repair the damage, and soon became M>sorbed in the favourite
task of tying up the spicy tufts of bloom, that deluged the air
with perfume as he lifted and bent the slender stems. His straw
hat shut out the sight of surrounding objects, and he only
turned his head when Mrs. Lindsay put her hand on his
shoulder, and exclaimed :

" Peyton, * the Philistines he upon thee ! ' "

« Du you mean that she has come ? "

" I think so ; there is a carriage at the gate, and I noticed a
trunk beside the driver."

He rose hastily, and stood irresolute, visibly embarrassed.

" Why, Pejrton ! Eecollect your text last Sunday : * No man
having put his hand to the plough,' etc., etc., etc. It certainly
is rather hard to be pelted with one's own sermons, but it would
never do to turn your back upon this benevolent farrow. Come,
pluck up courage, and front the inevitable."

"Elise, how can you jest 1 I am sorely burdened with gloomy
forebodings of coming ilL You cannot imagine how I shrink
from this responsibility."

"It is rather too late, dear, to climb upon the stool of repent-
ance. Take this beast of Bashan by the horns, and have done
with it. There is the bell ! Shall I accompany you 9 "

" Oh, certainly."

Hannah met them, and held up a card.

" Erle Palma,

"New York City."

As the minister entered his parlour, Mr. Palma advanced to
meet him, holding out his hand.

" I hope Dr. Hargrove has been prepared for my visit, and
understands its object 1 "

" I am glad to know you, sir, and had reason to expect you.
Allow me to present Mr. Palma to my' sister, Mrs. Lindsay. I
am exceedingly "

The sentence was never completed, and he stood with his
eyes fastened on the child, who leaned against the window,
watching him with an eager, breathless interest, as some caged
creature eyes a new keeper, wondering, mutely questioning

INFELICB.

whether cruelty or kindness will predominate in the strange
custodian. ,

For a moment, oblivious of all else, each gazed into the eyes
of the other, and a subtle magnetic current flashed from soul to
soul, revealing certain arcana, which years of ordinary acquaint-
ance sometimes fail to unveil. From the pastor's countenance
melted every trace of doubt and apprehension ; from that of
the girl all shadow of distrust.

Studying the tableau, Mr. Palma saw the clergyman smile,
and as if involuntarily open hisfarms ; and he was astonished
when the shy reticent child who had repulsed all his efforts to
become acquainted, suddenly glided forward, and into the out-
stretched arms of her new guardian. Weary from the long
journey, and rigid restraint imposed upon her feelings, the
closely pent emotion broke all barriers, and clinging to the
minister, Regina found relief in a flood of tears. Mr. Hargrove
sat down, and keeping his arm around her, said tenderly :

" Are you so unwilling to come and live under my care ?
Would you prefer to remain with Mr. Palma 1 " She put her
hands up, and clasping them at the back of his head, answered
brokenly :

" No, no i it is not that. ^ our face shows me you are good ;
so good ! But I can't help crying ; I have tried «o hard to keep
from it, ever since I kissed the Sisters good-bye ; and everything
is so strange— and my throat aches, and aches — oh, don't scold
me ! Please let me cry ! "

'' As much as you please. We know your poor little heart
13 almost breaking, and a good cry will help you."

He gathered her close to his bosom, and the lawyer was
amazed at the confiding manner in which she nestled her head
against the stranger's shoulder. Mrs. Lindsay untied and re-
moved the hat and veU, and placing a glass of water to the
parched trembling lips, softly kissed her tearful cheek, and
whispered :

" Now, dear, try to compose yourself. Come with me and
bathe your face, and then you will feel better."

"Don't take me away. I have stopped crying. It rests me
80,— to feel somebody's arms around me."

" Well — suppose you try my arms awhile 1 1' assure you
they are quite ready to take you in, and hug you close. Just
let me show you how I put my arms around my own child, —
though he is a man. Come, dear."

INFELICE.

Mrs. Lindsay gently disengaged the clasped hands resting on
her brother's neck, and drew Kegina into her arms, while, won
by her sweet voice and soft touch, the latter allowed herself to
be led into another room.

They had sc^ Ay disappeared when Mr. Palma said :

" I find I was mistaken in supposing that you and your ward
were strangers."

" We are strangers ; at least I never saw her until to-day.

" Did you mesmerize her % "

" Not that I am aware of. What suggests such an idea ? '

" She receives your friendly overtures so graciously, and re-
jected mine with such chill politeness. I presume you are
aware of the fact that we have a joint guardianship over this
child 1"

" If you will walk into the library, where we can escape in-
trusion, I should like to have some confidential conversation
with you."

When he had placed his visitor in his own easy-chair, and
locked the door of the library, Mr. Hargrove sat down beside
the oval table, and folding his hands before him, leaned forward
scrutinizing the handsome non-committal face of the stranger,
and conjecturing how far he would be warranted in unburden-
ing his own oppressed heart.

Coolly impassive, and without a vestige of curious interest,
the lawyer quietly met his incisive gaze.

'' Mr. Palma, may I ask whether Itegina's mother has unre-
servedly communicated her history to you ) "

** She has acquainted me with only a few facts, concerning
which she desired legal advice."

" Has she given you her real name % "

" I know her only as Madame Odille Orphia Orme, an
actress of very remarkable beauty and great talent."

"Do you understand the peculiar circumstances that at-
tended her marriage ? "

" I merely possess her assurance that she was married by
you."

** Have you been informed who is Regina's father % "

" The name has always been carefully suppressed, but she
told me that Orme was merely an alias.*'

" Have you ever suspected the truth 1 "

"Really that is a question I cannot answer. I have at
times conjectured, but only in a random unauthorized way. I

INFELIiiJl,

should Tery muoh like to know, but my client declined giving
me all the facts, at least at present ; and while her extreme
reticence certainly hampers me, it prevents me from asking you
for the information, which she promises ere long to give me."

Mr. Hargrove bowed and leaned back more easily in his
chair, fully satisfied concerning the nature of the man with
whom he had to deal.

" You doubtless think it singular that Mrs. Orme should
commit her daughter to my care, while keeping me in ignorance
of her parentage. A few days since, she signed, in the presence
of witnesses a cautiously worded instrument, in which she des-
ignated you and me as joint guardians of Begina Orme, and
specified that should death or other causes prevent you from
fulfilling the trust, I should assume exclusive control of her
daughter, until she attained her majority, or was otherwise dis-
posed of. To this arrangement I at leneth very reluctantly
assented, because it is a charge for which I have no leisure,
and even less inclination ; but as she seems to anticipate the
time when a lawsuit may be inevitable, and wishes my services,
she finally overruled my repugnance to the office foned upon
me."

" I must ask you one question, which subsequent statements
will explain. Do you regard her in all respects as a worthy,
true, good woman ) "

" The mystery of an assumed name always casts a shadow,
implying the existence of facts, or of reports inimical to the
party thus ambushed; and concealment presupposes either
indiscretion, shame or crime. This circumstance excited un-
favourable suspicions in my mind, but she assured me she had
a certificate of her marriage, and that you would verify this
statement. Can you do so 1 Was she legally married when
very young 1 "

*' She was legally married in this room, eleven years ago."

^' I am glad it is susceptible of proof. This point established,
I can easily answer your question in the affirmative. As fai> as
I am acquainted with her record, Mrs. Orme is a worthy woman,
and, I may add, a remarkably cautious, circumspect person,
for one so comparatively unaccustomed to the admiration which
is now lavished upon her. I believe it is conceded she is the
most beautiful woman in New York, but she shelters herself so
securely in the constant presence of a plain but most respect-
able old couple, with whom she resides, and who accompany

INFXlIOB.

her when travelling, that it is difficult to see her except upon
the stage. Even in her business visits to my office, she has
always been attended by old Mrs. Waul."

" Can you explain to me how one so uneducated and inex-
perienced as she certainly was has so suddenly attained, not
only celebrity (which is often cheaply earned), but eminence
in a profession involving the amount of culture requisite for
dramatic success 1 "

A slight smile showed the glittering line of the lawyer's
teeth.

" When did you see her last 1 "

" Seven years ago."

** Then I venture the assertion that you would not recognise
her, should you see her in one of her favourite and famous
rdles. When, where, or by whom she was trained I know not,
but some acquaintance with the most popular ornaments of her
profession justifies my opinion that no more cultivated or
artistic actress now walks the stage than Madame Odille Orme.
She is no mere amateur or novice, but told me she had labo-
riously and studiously struggled up, from the comparatively
menial position of seamstress. Even in Paris, I have never
heard a purer, finer rendition of a passage in PhMre than one
day burst from her lips, in a moment of deep feeling ; yet I
cannot tell how or where she learned French. She made her
dibut in tragedy, somewhere in the West, and when she re-
appeared in New York her success was brilliant. I have never
known a woman whoso will was so patiently rigid, so colossal,
— whose energy was so tireless in the pursuit of one special
aim. She has the vigilance and tenacity of a Spanish
bloodhound."

" In the advancement of her scheme, do you believe ner capar*
ble of committing a theft 1 "

" What do you denominate a theft % "

The piercing black eyes of the lawyer were fixed with in-
creased interest upon the clergyman.

" Precisely what every honest man means by the term. If
Mrs. Orme resolved Jbo possess a certain paper, to which she
had been denied access, do you think she would hesits.te to
break into a house, open a secret drawer, and steal the
contents 1 "

" Not unless she had a legal right to the document which
was unjustly withheld from her ; and even then, my know-

INFELIVE. '

ledge of the lady's character inclines me to believe that she
would hesitate, and resort to other means."

" You consider her strictly honest and truthful 1 "

" I am possessed of no facts that lead me to indulge a con-
trary opinion. Suppose you state the case 1 "

Brien^ Mr. Hargrove narrated the circumstances attending
his last interview with Regiiia's mother, and the loss of the tin
box, dwelling in conclusion upon the perplexing fact that in
uhe recent letter received from her, relative to her daughter's
removal to the Parsonage, Mrs. Orme had implored him to
carefully preserve the license he had retained, as the marriage
certificate in her possession might not be considered convinc-
ing proof, should litigation ensue. He could not understand
the policy of this appeal, nor reconcile its necesiL-ity with his
conviction that she had stolen the license.

Joining his scholarly white hands, with the tips of his fingers
forming a cone, Mr. Palma leaned back in his chair and lis-
tened, while no hint of surprise or incredulity found expression
in his cold imperturbable face. When the recital was ended,
he merely inclined his head.

" Do you not regard this as strong evidence against her t
Be frank, Mr. Palma."

'* It is merely circumstantial. "Write to Mrs. Orme, inform
her of the loss of the lice ise, and I think you will find that she
is as innocent of the theft as you or I. I know she went to
£urope believing that the final proof of her marriage was in
your keeping ; for in the event of her death while abroad, she
has empowered me to demand that paper from you, and to pre-
sent it, with certain others, in a court of justice."

" I wish I could see it as you do. I hope it will some day
be satisfactorily cleared up, but meanwhile I must indulge a
doubt. On one point at least my mind is at rest ; this little
girl is unquestionably the child of the man who married her
mother, for I have never seen so remarkable a likeness as she
bears to him."

He sighed heavily, and patted the shaggy head which Bioro
had sdme time before laid unheeded on his knee.

During the brief silence that ensued, the lawyer gazed out of
the window, through which floated the spicy messages of oar-
nations, and the fainter whispers of pale cream-hearted Noi-
sette roses ; then he rose and put both hands in his pockets.

•* Dn Hargrove, you and I have been — with I believe equal

INFELICE.

reluctance— forced into the same boat, and uincr Irnigri malgri
we must voyage for a time together, in the interest of thii
unfortunate child, candour becomes U8 both. Men of my pro-
fession sometimes resort to agencies that the meirbers of yours
usually ohrink from. T too was once very sceptical concerning
the truth of Mrs. Orme's fragmentary storv, for it was the
merest disjecta membra which she entrustea to me, and my
credulity declined to honour her heavy drafts. To satisfy ray-
self, I employed a shrewd female detective to ' shadow ' the
pretty actress for nearly a year, and her reports convinced •■le
that my client, while struggling with Napoleonic ambition akid
pertinacity to attain the zenith of success in her pr- "^ssion,
was as little addicted to coquetry as the statue of Washington in
Union Square, or the steeple of Trinity Church ; and that in the
midst of flattery and adulation she was the same proud, cold,
suffering, almost broken-hearted wife she had always appeared
in her conferences with me. Indulging this belief, I have ac-
cepted the joint guardianship of her daughter, on condition
that whenever it becomes necessary to receive her under my
immediate protection, I shall be made acquainted with her real
name."

" Thank you, my dear sir, for your frankness, which I would
most joyfully reciprocate, were I not bound by a promise to make
no revelations until she gives me permission, or her death un-
seals my lips. I hope you fully colnprehend my awkward
position. There is a conspiracy to defraud her and her child
of their social and legal rights, and I fear both will '^e victim-
ized; but she insists that secrecy will deliver her from the
snares of her enemies. I suppose you are aware that Gen-
eral "

He paused, and bit his lip, and again the lawyer's handsome
mouth disclosed his perfect teeth.

" There is no mischief in your dropped stitch ; I shall not
pick it up. I know that Mrs. Orme's husband is in Europe,
and I was assured that motives t>f a personal character induced
her to make certain professional engagements in England, and
upon the Continent. I am not enthusiastic, and rarely venture
prophecies, but I shall be much disappointed if her Richelieu
tactics do not finally triumph."

" Can you tell me why she does not openly bring suit against
her husband for bigamy 1 "

" Simply because she has been informed that the policy of

XNFELICis.

the defence would be to at once attack <i^r reputation, which
she seems to guard with almost morbid sensitiveness, on ac-
count of her daughter. She has been warned of the dangerous
consequences of a suit, but if forced to extremities will hazard
it— hence I bide my time."

He threw back his lordly head, and his brilliant eyes seemed
to dilate, as though the suggestion of the suit stirred his pulse,
as the breath of carnage and the din of distant battle tliat of
Vhe war-horse, panting for the onward dash.

A species of human petrel — a juridic Frocettaria Pelagimf
/hose habitat was the Court-house — Erie Palma lived amid the
ceaseless surges of litigation, watching the signs of rising tem-
pests in human hearts, plunging in defiant exultation where
the billows rode highest, never so elated as when borne tri-
umphantly upon the towering crest of some conquering wave
of legal finesse or impassioned invective, and rarely saddened
in the flush of victory by the pale spectres of strangled hope,
fortune, or reputation which float in the debris of the wrecks
that almost every day drift mournfully away from the precincts
of Courts of Justice.

The striking of the clock caused him to draw out his watch,
and compare the time.

"IbeUeve the regular train does not leave V until

night, but the conductor iold me I might catch an excursion
train bound south, and «due here about half-past one o'clock.
It is necessary for me to return with as little delay as possible,
and after I have spoken to Kegina, I must hasten to the depot.
You will find my address pencilled on the card, and I presume
Mrs. Orme has given you hers. Should you desire to confer
with me at any time relative to the child, I shall promptly re-
spond to your letters, but have no leisure to spend in looking
after her. The semi-annual remittance shall not be neglected,
and Begina has a package for you, containing money for con-
tingent expenses."

They entered the hall, and found the little stranger sitting
alone on the lowest step of the stairway, where Mrs. Lindsay
had left her while she went to prepare luncheon for the travel-
lers. She was very quiet, bore no visible traces of tears, but
the tender lips wore a piteously sad expression of heroically re-
pressed grief, and the purplish shadows under her solemn blue
eyes rendered them more than ever pleadingly beautiful.

As the two gentlemen stood before her she rose, and caught

tNFELICE.

b\l

her breath, pressing one little palm over her heart, while the
other grasped the balustrade.

" Don't you think, dear, that you ought to be well cared for,
when you have two guardians, two adopted fathers, Mr.
Palma and I, to watch over you ? We both intend that you
shall be the happiest little girl in the State. Will you help
usl"

" I will try to be good."

Her voice was very low, but steady, as if she realized she
was making a compact.

" Then I know we shall all succeed.*'

Mr. Hargrove walked to the front door, and the lawyer put
on his hat and came back to the steps.

" Begina, I have explained to you that I brought you here
because your mother so directed me, and I believe Dr. Har-
grove will be a kind, good friend. Idttle one, I do not like to
leave you so soon among strangers, but it cannot be helped.
Will you be contented and happy 1 "

There was singular emiphasia in her reply :

•* I shall never complain to you, Mr. Palma.*'

" Because you think I would not sympathise with you t 1
am not a man ^ven to soft words, nor am I accustomed to
deal with children, but indeed I should be annoyed if I thought
you were unhappy here."

*'- Then you must not be annoyed at all."

His quick nervous laugh seemed to startle her unpleasantly,
for she shrank closer to the balustrade.

"How partial you are, — preferring Dr. Hargrove already,
and flying into his arms at sight I Do you wish to make me
jealous V

His eyes gleamed mischievously, and he saw the blood rising
in her white cheeks.

" Dr. Hargrove opened his arms to me, because he saw how
miserable I was."

" If I should chance to open mine, do you think that by any
accident you would rush into them 1 "

" You know you would never have dreamed of doing such a
thing. Are you going away now 9 "

" In a moment. If you get into trouble, or need anything,
3 ? Eemember I am your mother's friend?'

will you write to me

"Is not Mr. Hargrove also)"
"Certainly."

^ifP^^

INFELICE.

He took her handn, and bending down looked kindly into
the delicately lovely face.

" Good-bye, Regina."

"Good-bye, Mr. Palma."

" I hope, little girl, that we shall always be friends." '

** You are very good to wish it. Thank you for taking care
of me. Because you are my mother's best friend, I shall pray
for you every night."

His sternly moulded lips twitched with some strange passing
reminiscences of earlier years, but the emotion vanished, and
pressing her hands gently, he turned, and went down the walk
leading to the gate.

CHAPTER V.

[LEASE let me come in and help you."

Regina knocked timidly at the door of the parson-
age guests' chamber, and Mrs. Lindsay answered from
within :
" Gome in ) Of course you may, but what help do
you imagine you can render, you useless piece of prettiness 1
Shall I set you on the mantelpiece between the china kittens
and the glass lambs, — right under the sharp nose of my grand-
mother's portrait, where her great solemn eyes will keep you
in order 1 Whence do all those delectable odours come ? Are
you a walking sachet ? "

She was kneeling before an open drawer of the bureau, me-
thodically arranging sundry garments, — and pausing in the
task, looked over her shoulder at the girl who stood near,
holding her hands behind her.

" I am sure I could help you if I were only allowed to try.
I am quite a large girl now, and more than a year older than
when I came here, and Hannah has taught me to do ever
no many things. She says £ will be a famous cook some
day. You didn't know that I made up the Sally Lunn tor
teal"

** What an ambitious bit of majesty you are I You wish to

INFELICE.

reign in the kitchen, rule in the poultry yard, and now pre-
sume to invade my province — my special kingdom of making
things ready for the Bishop ! Have you been anointing your-
self with a whole vial of Lubin's extract of — Ah ! — delicious-:-
what is it 1"

" Whatever it may be, will you let me fix it to suit myself
on the Bishop's bureau 1 "

"No — you impertinent wily Delilah in short clothes t I
never promise in the dark ; show it to me first, and then per-
haps I may negotiate with you. You know as well as I do that
the Bishop dearly loves perfumes, and if I should generously con-
cede you the privilege of presenting "sweet smelling savours"
unto him, you might some day depose me, — and I wish you
distinctly to understand what I intend to reign over him as long
as I live ; not an inch of territory shall you filch."

Begina held up her hands, displaying in one several feathery
sprays of Belgian honeysuckle, with half of its petals pearl,
half of the palest pink ; in the other a bunch of double violets,
of the rarest shade of delicate lilac, so unusual in the flortd
kingdom.

" You should be called ' Mab,' and ride about the world on
a butterfly or a streak of moonshine. How did you coax or
conjure that honeysuckle into blossoming before its appointed
timel"

" Here are three pieces ; two for the Bishop, and one fo(
you. May I fasten it in your hair ? *'

" You recite a lesson in history every day, don't you 1"

" Yes, ma'am."

" Have you come to the Salem witches yet 1 "

" Not yet. What has my history to do with this honey-
suckle ? '^

" When you study metaphysics and begin the chase after
that psychological fox, the law-of-association-of-ideas, you will
understand. Meanwhile, thank your stars, dear, that you did
not live in Massachusetts some years ago, or you would cer-
tainly have gone to heaven in the shape of smoke. How you
stare — you White owl ! As if you thought St. Vitus had rented
my tongue for a dancing saloon. It is all because the Bishop
is coming. My blessed Bishop! Yes, put the handsomest
spray in my hair, and then, if you make me look young and
very pretty, you may do what you like with the others."

Still kneeling, she inclined her head, while Eegina twisted

INFELICE.

»«

the wreath around the coil of neatly braidel hair. Then kissing
the girl lightly on her cheek, Mrs. Lindsay closed the drawer
and rose. Drawitig a silver cup from her pocket, Regina filled
it with water and placed it close to the mirror, and proceeded
to arrange the violets and honeysuckle. Stepping back to in-
spect the effect, she folded her hands and smiled.

" Mrs. Lindsay, tell him I gathered them for him, because he
was so kind to me when I came here a stranger, and I wish to
thank him. When he is at home it seems always summer time
— don't you think so ? "

The mother's eyes filled, and laying a hand on the girl'&
head, she answered :

" Yes, dear, he is my sunshine and my summei time.'

" How long will he stay with us 1 "

" He could not say positively when his last letter was »f it-
ten, but I hope to keep him several months. You know: it is
possible he may be forced to go to England in order to com-
plete some of his studies before — Oh, Begina ! could we bear
to have two oceans swelling between our Bishop and us ? **

" Why, then, wi}l you let him go 1 **

« Can I help it ? "

** You are his mother, and he never would disobey you.

'^ But he is a man, and I cannot tie him to my apron strings,
a^ I do my bunch of keys. I must not stand in the way, and
prevent him from doing his duty.'*

*' I suppose I don't yet know everything about such matterb,
but 1 should think it was his duty first to please you. How
devoted he is to ' duty ! ' It must be horrible to leave aU one
loves, and go out to India, among the heathens."

"Pray, what do you know about the heathens?" said a
manly voice, and instantly two strong arms gathered the pair
in a cordial embrace.

" My son ! You stole a march upon me ! 0, Douglass, I
never was half so glad to see you as now ! "

" If you do not stop crying, I shall feel tempted to doubt
you. Tears are so unusual in your eyes^ that I shall be dis-
posed to regard your welcome as equivocal."

He kissed her on cheek and lips, and added :

" Eegina, can't you contrive to say you are a little glad to
see me 9 "

There was no reply, and turning to look for her, he found
phe had vanished.

Sisjs 'is (awsansJ)?

INFEUCE.

" Queer little thing ! she has gone without a word, though she
insisted on dressing her silver cup with those flowers, which
she thought would suggest to you her gratitude for your nume-
rous little acts of kindness. Have you seen your uncle 1 "

" Yea, mother, I stopped a few moments at the church, where
he is engaged with one of the committees. Uncle Peyton is
not looking well. Has he been sick ) "

<< He has suffered a good deal with his throat since you left
us, and now and then I notice he coughs. He is overworked,
and now that you can fill his pulpit, he will have an opportunity
to rest. 0, my son ! in every respect your visit is a blessing."
Leaning her head on his breast, she looked up with proud
and almost adoring tenderness, and drawing his face down to
hers, held it close, kissing him with that intense clinging fer-
vour which only mother love kindles.

" Does my little mother know that she is spoiling her boy by
inches ; — making a nursery darling, instead of a hardy soldier,
of him ? You are weaving silken bonds to fasten me more
securely here, when you ought rather to aid me in snapping the
fetters of affection, habit, and association. Gome, be so good
as to brush the dust out of my hair, while you tell me every-
thing about everybody, which you have failed to write, during
these long months of absence."
YoT some time they talked of family matters, of occurrences

in y , of some invidious and unkind remarks, some caustic

personal criticisms upon the pastor's household affairs, which
had emanated from Mrs. Prudence Potter, a widowed member
of the congregation, who had once rashly dreamed of presiding
over the clerical hearth as Mrs. Peyton Hargrove, and, having
failed to possess her kingdom, had become a merciless spy
upon all that happened in the forbidden realm.

" Poor Mrs. Pru ! what a warfare exists between her name
and her character, She should petition the Legislature to allow
her to be called Mrs. Echidi^a ! My son, I think modern
civilization will remain incomplete, will not perform its mission,
until it relieves society from the depredations of these scor-
pions, by colonizing them where they will expend their poison
without dangerous results. If sting they must, let it be among
themselves. If I were lunatic enough to desire to vote, I
should spend iny franchise in favour of a * Gossip Reservation
— somewhere close to the great Western Desert — to which the'
disappointed widows, spiteful old maids, and snarling dyspeptic

Tmmm

INFELICE.

bachelors of this much- suffering generation should be relegated
for domiciliation and reform. Freedom serves America much
as ^sop's stork did the frogs ; — we are appallingly free to be
devoured by envy, stabbed by calumny, strangled by slander.
I believe if I were a painter, and desired to portray Cleopatra's
death, I would assuredly give to the asp the baleful features and
sneering smirk of Mrs. Prudence. Every Sunday, when she
twists those two curls on her forehead till they lift themselves
like horns, puts up her eye-glasses and pays her respects to
our pew, I catch myself whispering * Cerastes I ' and wishing
that I were only the camera of a photographer."

" Take care, mother ! Would you accept a homestead in your
contemplated * Reservation V"

She pinched his ear.

" Don't presume, sir, to preach to me. Really, I often won-
der how Peyton can force himself to smile and parry the vine-
gar cruets that woman throws at him, in the shape of observa-
tions upon the ' rapid decline of evangelical piety,' and the

* sadly backslidden nature ' of the clergy."

" Because he is the very best man in the world, and faithfully
practises what he preaches — Christian charity. What is Mrs.
Piu's latest grievance ? "

"That Peyton does not admit her to his confidence, and
supply her with all the particulars of' Regina's history and
family^ which he withholds even from you and me, and about
which we should never dream of catechising him. In a better
cause, her bold eftrontery would be sublime. Fortunately, she
was absent in Vermont for some months after the child came,
and curiosity had subsided into indifference, until she returned
— when lb I a geyser of righteous anxiety and suspicion boiled
up in the congregation and well-nigh scalded us. What do you
suppose she blandly asked me one day, in the child's presence %

♦ Were not Mr. Hargrove's friends mistaken in believing he
had never married 1 ' Now I contend that the law of the land
should indict for just such cruel and wicked innuendoes, because
these social crimes that the statutes do not reach, work almost
as much mischief and misery as those offences against public
peace which the laws declare penal. J confess Mrs. Potter is
my hUe noire, and I feel as no doubt Paul did wheh he wrote to
Timothy : ' Alexander the coppersmith did me much evil ; the
Lord reward him accoiding to his works.' "

" Mother, what reply did you make to her ] I can imagine
you towering like Mrs. SitMoiis."

jta-ii i w^ffiJ^j i jg^

JNFELICE,

" You may be sure I unmasked a battery. I looked straight
into her little faded gray eyes — which straggle away from each
other, as if ashamed of their mutual ferret experiences — for you
know one looks out so, and one turns always up— and I an-
swered, that my brother had been exceedingly fortunate, as
notwithstanding the numerous matrimonial nets adroitly spread
for him, he had escaped like t.he Psalmist, ' as a bird out of the
snare of the fowler, and ]led for safety unto the mountain of
celibacy. Bishop, if the new soiiool of science lack the link
that binds us to the ophidian type, I can furnish a thoroughly
* de\ "^loj specimen of an * pv-.tved' Melusina ; for Mrs. Pru's
anc ors : 9t have been, no ,ory remotely, cobra-capellos.
Such a chronic blister as she is, keeps up more inflammation in
a church than all the theology at Andover can cool. As for

general society here in Y , she damages it more than all

the three hundred foxes of Samson did the corn-fields, vine-
yards and olives of the Philistines. What are you laughing at ? "

" The ludicrous dismay that will seize you when the con-
stabulery of your progressive civilization notify you that you
must emigrate to the < Gossip and Slander Eeservation.' Poor
Mrs. Prudence Potter ! from my earliest recollection she has
been practising archery upon the target of her neighbours '
characters, and she seeks social martyrdom as diligently as Sir
Galahad hunted the Sangreal. In the form of ostracism, I
think she is certainly reaping her reward. Mother, let her rest."

" With all my heart ! * 'tis a consummation devoutly to be
wished ; ' — ^but that is just the last thing she proposes — until
the muscles of her tongue and eyes are paralyzed. Kest in-
deed ! Did you ever see a hyena caged in a menagerie 1 Did
you ever know it to rest for an instant from its snarling, snap-
ping, grinning round ? My son, I would not for my right hand
malign or injure her, but how can I sincerely indulge charitable
reflections concerning a person who has "c persistently perse-
cuted your uncle 1 "

'' Then, dear little mother, do not think of her at all. Be
assured her ill-natured shafts will fall as blunt and harmless
upon the noble well-tried armour of my uncle's Christian cha-
racter, as a bombardment of cambric needles against the fortress
of Cronstadt. How rapidly Eegina has grown since she came
among us? Her complexion is perfect. Is she the same
straightforward, guileless child I left her ? "

" Unchanged, except in the rapid expansion of her mind.

BECWKWWtWW"^

INFELICB.

which develops surprisingly. She is the most mature child I
have ever met, and I presume it is attributable to the fact that
she has never been thrown with children, and, having always
associated with older persons, has insensibly imbibed their staid
thoughts, and adopted their quiet ways. I should not be more
astonished to see my prim puritanical grandmother yonder step
down from the frame, and turn a somersault on the carpet, or
indulge in leap-frog, than to find Begina guilty of any boisterous,
hoidenish behaviour, or unrefined, undignified language. If she
had been born on the Mayflower ^ raised on Plymouth Rock, and
fed three times a day on the 'Blue Laws' of Connecticut,
she could not possibly have proved a more eminently * proper*
child. Even Hannah, who you may recollect was so surly,
harsh and suspicious when she first came here, and who really
has as little cordiality or enthusiasm in her nature as a gridiron
or a rolling pin, seems now to be completely devoted to her ;
as nearly infatuated as one of her flinty temperament can be ;
and who conquers old Hannah's heart, you will admit, must be
well-nigh perfect.'*

" Does my uncle continue to teach her % "

*" Yes, and I think it is one of his greatest pleasures. She
is ambitious and studious, and Peyton is never too weary to
explain whatever puzzles her. She is exceedingly fond of him,
and he said last week that she was his ' Jabez ; ' — he had re-
ceived her so reluctantly, and she proved such a comfort and
blessing."

" I presume her mother writes to her occasionally ? "
• "Regularly every fortnight she receives a letter. Some-
times, for days after, Regina looks perplexed and sorrowful, but
she never divulges the contents. Once, about two months ago,
I found her lying on the rug in her own room, with her face in
her hands, and her mother's last letter beside her. I asked if
she had received any bad news, for I knew she was crying in
her quiet way, and she looked up, and said in a tone that was
really piteous : ' There is nothing new. It is always the same
old thing ; she does not know yet when she can come, and I
must be good and patient. Oh, Mrs. Lindsay, I am so hungry
to see my mother ! When I look at her picture, I feel as if I
would be willing to die if I could only kiss her, and hear her say
once more, * My baby ! My darling ' Last night I dreamed
she took me in her arms, and hugged me tight, and looked at
me as she used to do when she came to the convent, and

infelh.^.

ndl
igry
if I
say
med
dat
and

said, * Papa's own baby ! Papa's I'oor stray lamb ! ' Mn
Lindsay, when I waked I had the pillow in my arms and was
kissing|it." Now, Douglass, it is a great mystery how a mother
could voluntarily separate herself from such a child as Regina.
I asked her to show me the picture, and she cried a good deal,
and said : ' I have often wished to show it to you, but she says
I must let no one see it. Oh I she is so beautiful ! Lovelier
than the Madonnas in the chapels ; only she always has tears
in her eyes. I never saw her when she did not weep. Mrs.
Lindsay, help me to be good ; teach me to be smart ir every-
thing, that I may be some comfort to my mother.' The sad-
dest feature in the whole affair is, that Eegina begins to sus-
pect there is some discreditable mystery about her mother and
herself; but Peyton says it is marvellous how delicately she
treats the subject. She came home one day from Sunday-school,
and told him that. Mrs. Prudence asked her, in the presence
of the class, how her mother could afford to dress her in such
costly clothes ; and whether she had ever seen her father 1 Pey-
ton wished to know what reply she made, and she said her an-
swer was : * Mrs. Potter, if I were you, and you were Eegina
Orme, I think I would have my tongue cut out before I should
ask you such questions.' Then Peyton told me she looked at
him as if she were reading his secret soul, and added : ' It is
hard not to understand everything, but I will be patient, for
mother writes that some day I shall know all ; and no matter
what people say — no matter how strange things may seem — I
will believe in my mother as I believe in God ! * Most girls of
her age would be curious to discover what is concealed from
her ; but although your uncle thinks she is uncertain whether
her father be living or dead, she caripfully shuns all reference
to the subject. There is the door bell ; Hannah will let some-
body in, before I can lly down and tell her to excuse me.
How stupid of people not to know that my Bishop has come !
Oh, dear ! it is Mrs. Cartney — and she has come for the aprons
I promised to make for the Asylum children, and they have
not been touched ! yes, Hannah, I am coming. Why didn't
you say I was engaged with my son ? "

She disappeared, and after awhile Douglass Lindsay went down
to the library, and thence through the door opening upon two
steps that led into the garden.

It was one of those rare, golden-aired days that sdmetimes
break over the bleak brows of brawling March, in sunny pro-

INFELICE.

pheoy of yet distant summer ; windless days, when rime »nd
haze are equuDy unknown, and tender fingers of the timid
spring, lifting the shrouding sod, advance tendril and leaf and
bud as heralds of the annual resurrection. Double daffodils
stood erect and conspicuous like commissioned officers along
the line of yellow jonquils that bordered the walks, and snowy
narcissus and purple and rose hyacinths made a fragrant mosaic
over which the brown bees swung, and hummed their ceaseless
hymn — lahorcvre est orare. Following the winding walk that
led to the palings which shut out the poultry realm, the young
minister leaned against the gate, overshadowed by a tall lilac,
and looked across at the feathered folk, of which from boyhood
he had been particularly fond.

In the centre of the enclosure was a handsome pigeon-house,
circular in form, and easily accessible by a flight of steps, while
upon the top of a cupola that sprung from the roof was built
a small but prettily painted martins' home, in the quaint shape
of the Ark, — as we find it in scriptural illustrations. Through-
out the length and breadth of the Continent, probably no
mere amateur fowl fancier possessed such a collection as Mr.
Hargrove had patiently and gradually gathered from various
sources. The peculiarity consisted in the whiteness of the
fowls ; turkeys, guineas, geese, ducks, English Pile, Leghorn,
Bramah chickens all spotlessly pure, while the pigeons resembled
drifting snow-flakes, and the pheasants gleamed like silver.

Upon one of the steps of the columbary sat Begina, with a
basket of mixed grain by her side, and in her lap a pair of
white rabbits which she was feeding with celery and cabbage
leaves. At her feet stood two beautiful Chinese geese, whose
golden bills now and then approached the edge of the basket,
or encroached upon the rabbits' evening meal. The girl was
bareheaded, and the fading sunshine lingered lovingly upon the
glossy hair, and the delicate lovely face which had lost nought
of the purity that characterized it eighteen months before,
while during that time she had grown much taller, and gave
promise of attaining unusual height and symmetry.

The dress of Marie-Louise blue merino was relieved at the
throat by a neatly crimped ruffie, and, as in days of yore, she wore
the white apron with pretty pockets, and ruffled bands passing
over her shoulders and down to the belt behind, where broad
strings oJL linen were looped into a bow. Her abundant hair
was plaited in two long thick braids, (ind passed twice around

INFELICE.

her head, forming a jet coronal, and imparting a peculiarly
classic contour.

There was in this quiet fowl yard scene something so inno-
cent, so peaceful, that it was inexpressibly soothing and attrac-
tiye to the man who stood beneath the lilac boughs, jaded
with unremitting 8'««udy, and laden with wearying schemes of
future labour. I Douglass Lindsay was only twenty-five, but the
education and habits of a theological student had stamped a
degree of gravity on his handsome fece, which was doubtless
enhanced by r; slight yet undeniable baldness.

Closely resemMing his mother, except in the brownness of
his fine eyes, his countenance lacked the magnetic warmth
and merry shifting lights that rendered hers so pleasant, — yet
none who looked earnestly upon it could doubt for an instant
that he would prove a staunch, faithful, worthy ensign of that
Banner of Peace which Jesus unfurled among the olive-girdled
hills of holy Judea.

With no leprous taint of bigotry to sully his soul, blur his
vision, or cramp his sphere of action, the broad stream of
Christian charity flowed from his noble, generous heart, sweep-
ing away obstacles that would have impeded the usefulness of
a minister less catholic in sympathy, — ^more hampered by creed
ligaments and denominational fetters. To an almost womanly
tenderness and susceptibility, regarding the sufferings of his
fellow-creatures, he united an inflexible adherence to the
dictates of justice and the rigorous promptings of con-
science ; — and while devoutly 3rielding allegiance solely to the
Triune God to whose service he had reverently dedicated his
young life, there were times when, in almost ascetic self-abne-
gation, he unconsciously bowed down to that stern-lipped,
stony Teraph, who, under the name of " Duty," sat a cowled
and shrouded idol in the secret oratory of his unselfish heart.
Are there not seasons when even the most orthodox wonder
wliether the Dii Involuti passed away for ever, with the 'patera
&nA fibulcB that once rendered service in the classic shades of
Chusium and Montepulciana 1

Scholarly in. tastes, neither Mr. Lindsay's habits nor inclina-
tion led him often into the flowery mazes of fashionable society,
but standing upon the verge of Vanity Fair, he had looked
curiously down at the feverish whirl, the gilded shams, the
maddening, murderous conflict for place ; the empty, mocking
pageantry of the victorious, the sickening despair and savage

I j.i FELICE..

irony of the legions of the defeated ; and after the roar and
shout and moan of the social maelstrom, as presented in the
great city where his studies had been pursued, it was pleasant
this afternoon to watch the fluttering white creatures that sur-
rounded that calm beautiful child, and to listen to the soft
cooing of the innocent lovers in the dovecote above her.

Opening the latticed gate he walked toward the group, and
lifting the basket, uat down on the steps.

** Why did you not wait, and invite me to come out and in-
spect your pretty pets 1 "

" I thought your mother could not spare you this first after-
noon, she had so much to say to you ; but I am very glad you
have not quite forgotten us. Do you see how tall the China
geese have grown ? When the gander stretches his neck he
can touch my shoulder with his bill. Isn't he beautiful 1 "

''Decidedly the handsomest gander of my acquaintance.
When I went awav you were trying to find a name for him.
Did you succeed 1 ^'

" Yes, I call him Alcibiades.*

" Why % Do you wish to insult the memory of the great
Athenian 1"

" I wish to compliment him, because he was so graceful and
beautiful, and was so fond of birde, he carried them abo^it in
his bosom. My Alcibiades is so good-natured he never fights
or hisses at my pigeons, and just now one of them lighted on his
back, and picked up the barley that had fallen on his feathers.
Mr. Hargrove promised me that just as soon as I can make
money enough to pay the brick-mason, he will have a large
cemented basin built near the pump, where the geese and ducks
can swim about every day."

*' How do you propose to make money % " asked Douglass,
lifting one of the rabbits into his lap, and offering it a crisp
morsel of celery.

" Don't you know that I sell the eggs % Those of the white
guineas bring three dollars a dozen, and I could sell more of
the white turkeys, at the same price, than we can spare. Our
new Pigeon Palace was paid for entirely out of the poultry
money."

*' Who keeps the poultry books 9 Have you at last learned
to multiply fractions ? "

She looked up, smiling, into his laughinjr eyes.

''Mr. Lindsay, I am not so stupid as when you tried so hard

'rt/'imi^

INFELICM,

(,(» explain that sum to me. I keep the account, and your uncle
examines it once a week. He says it will teach me to be accu*
rate in my figures."

"What did you pay for your rabbits t I have a pair of
A ngolas for you, but the man from whom I bought them ad-
vised me not to remove them until all danger of cold weather
had passed, as they are quite young."

" Thank you, Mr. Lindsay. You are very kind to remember
that I wished for them last year. I did not buv these "

She raised the rabbit from her apron, and rubbed her cheek
against its soft fur, then added in a lower and touching tone*:

" My mother sent them to me. I can't tell how she found ont>^
that of all things I wished most to have them, out you know,
sir, that mothers seem inspired ; 'hey always un ierstand what
is in their children's hearts and minds, and r^.^ed no telling. So
1 love these more than all my pets ; they are the latest message
from my mother."

She held out her hand, and interpreting the ' Apression in
her superb eyes, he placed the other rabbit in he^ ^ j jns, and for
a moment she pressed them close.

" I must shut them up until to-morrov, or the owls ,v ight
make a supper of them, as happened to ftomo the Sisters kept
at the convent."

She opened the door of a wired apai;* ,t beneath the pigeon-
house, where in an adjoining division aie pheasants were set-
tling upon their perch, and carefully deposited the bouncing
furry creatures on a bed of wheat straw.

" Mr. Lindsay, the fowls are all going to roost, and you must
wail till morning to see the squabs, and broods of Brahmas and
Leghorns. They look like snow-balls rolling about after their
food."

As she locked up the grain, and balanced the ke y on her
fingers, her companion said :

" I must persuade Uncle Peyton to get some black Spanish,
and a few Poland chickens.'*

" Oh, no ! We don't wyut any black things ; if they laid a
dozen eggs a day, they could not come here. We never raise
a fowl that has coloured feathers ; all our beauties must be like

snow.

" I see you have converted my uncle to your pet doctrine,
and before long I suppose you will, persuade him to sell his
pretty bay, and buy a white pony % "

INFELICE.

** No sir, I like ' Sultan' too well to care much about his
eolour, and beside Mr. Hargrove is attached to him. There is
one thing we both want very much indeed, and that is a white
Ava cow. !irour uncle read me a description of those cattle
last week, and said when you went to the East he would ask
you to try and send him one."

As he looked down at her perfect face, then at one of the
doves that had perched on her shoulder, and thought of treach-
erous swart Sepoys, of Bengal tigers, of all the tangled work
that Jay before him in Hindoostan jungles, a shadow fell over
the young man's brow, and a dull pain seemed to tighten the
valves of his heart. Tust then, his appointed lot in the Master's
vineyard did not smile as alluringly as the sunny slopes of
Eshcol ; but he put aside the contrast.

" Eegina, I saw Mr. Palma in New York."

" I hope he is well."

'' He certainly looked so. Among other things, he asked if
the art of writing had been altogether omitted in your education.
I told him I was unacquainted with your accomplishments in
that line, as I had written you two letters which remained un-
answered."

" But your mother thanked you for them, in my name."

" Which was very sweet and good in my dear mother, but
questionably courteous in you. Mr ?*ilma sent you a pre-
sent."

" He is very kind indeed, but if I am expected to write and
thank him, I would much rather not receive it."

" Do you dislike him ? "

" How could I dislike my mother's best friend ? I daresray
he has a good heart ; of course he must have ; but whenever I
think of him I feel a queer chill creep to my very finger-tips,
as if the north wind blew hard upon me, or an iceberg sailed

by."

" Guess what he sent you."

"A copybook, pen i.nd ink 1 "

" He is too polishec' a gentleman to punish you so severely.
Come and let me show you his gift."

He hd the way to the gallery in the rear of the house, and
here they found Mr. Hargrove and Mrs. Lindsay admiring a
young Newfoundland dog, which was chained to the balusters.

" Look, Eegina ! it is a Wf.ddling snow-bank ! So round, so
•oft and white ! Did he come from Nova Zembla, or Hammer
fest, or directly from * Greenland's icy mountains' ? "

;

a taat:: j ' AJt a i ' KjiXti^ iJStt-agst:: it

•s.
so

INFELIGS,

" Mr. Palma looked all over New York and Brooklyn before
he found a pure white dog to suit him. It seems he knew
Kegina's fondness for snowy pets, and this is the only New-
foundland I have ever seen who had not even a dark hair. Mr.
Palma put this handsome collar and chain upon him and asked
me to bring him to Begina. He will be very large when
grown ; now he is only a few months old."

Regina softly patted the woolly head, and her eyes glistened
with delight.

" How did Mr. Palma guess that I wanted a dog 1 "

" He requested me to suggest something that would please
you, and I told him that all at the Parsonage were grieving
over the death of poor old Biorn. He immediately decided to
send you a dog, and this is a noble, sagacious creature."

" What is his name % "

" That is left entirely to your taste ; but I hope you will not
go all the way to Greece to find a title, as you did for your
classic gander."

" Then I will call him whatever Mr. Hargrove likes best."

As she spoke, Regina nestled her fingers into the pastor's
hand, and he smiled down into her radiant face.

" My dear child, exercise your own preference. Have you
no choice % "

"None."

" Suppose you name him * Erl-King,' in compliment to Mr.

Palmar'

" I should never dare to call him that ; it would seem im-
pertinent. He is such a splendid dog, I should like a fine, un-
common, grand name out of some of Mr. Hargrove's learned
books."

"Oh, don't, Begina! It will be positively cruel to turn
Peyton loose among his folios, and invite him to afflict that in-
nocent orphaned brute with some dreadful seven-syllabled
abomination, which he will convince you is Arabic, or Sanscrit,
— classic or mediaeval, — Gaelic, Finnish or Norse, — but which
I warn you will serve your jaws (more elegant form — * maxil-
lary bones') very much as an attack of mumps would, and
will torture the victim into hydrophobia. Be pitiful, and
say Teazer, — Tiger, — Towser, — ^but don't throw the sublime
nomenclature of the classics literally to the dogs ! "

" Now, mother, I protest against your infringement of Uncle

INFELIOE,

Peyton's accorded rights. Be quiet, please, and let him give
Regina a few historic names, from which she can select one."

Douglass passed his arm over Mrs. Lindsay's shoulder, and
both watched the eager-intent face which the girl lifted to the
pastor.

He took off his glasses, wiped them with the end of his coat,
and, readjusting them on his nose, addressed himself to his
ward :

'' There is an East Indian tradition that a divinely appointed
greyhound guards the golden herd of stars and sunbeams foi
the Lord of Heaven, and collects the nourishing rain-clouds, as
the celestial cows, to the milking place. That greyhound was
called SaraTnd. Will that suit you 1 "

She shook her head.

" The Greeks tell us of a dog which was kept in the temple
of uEsculapius at Athens, and on one occasion, when a robber
entered and stole the gold and silver treasures from the altar,
the dog followed him for days and nights, until the thief, who
could neither beat him away nor pursuade him to eat meat, was
captured and carried back to Athena. Now, dear, this was a
very shrewd and courageous animal, and his name was Cap-
parus."

" Why did not his owner change it for something handsome,
after he performed such service ? "

Begina spoke dubiously, and looked down at the new pet,
who wagged his plumy tail as if to deprecate the punishment
of such a title.

" When Pyrrhus died, his favourite and devoted dog refused
to stir from the body, but when it was carried out of the house
he leaped upon the bier, and finally sprang into the funeral
pile, and was burned alive with his master's remains. This
exceedingly faithful creature was Astus."

" Mr. Hargrove, are all the classic names so ugly 'i "

" I am afraid the little girl's ear is not suflGiciently cultivated
to appreciate them. I will try once more. The Welsh Prince
Llewellyn had a noble deerhound, whom he trusted to watch
the cradle of his baby boy while he himself was absent. One
day, returning home, he found the cradle upset and empty, the
clothes and the dog's mouth dripping with blood. Concluding
that the hound had devoureo the child, the father drew his
sword and slew the dog, but a moment after the cry of the
babe from behind the cradle showed him his boy was alive.

■m-zrrrirerTra

INFELICB.

Looking around, the prince discovered the body of a huge
wolf, which had entered the house to attack and devour the
child, but which had been kept o£f and killed by this brave
dog, who was named Gellert."

Fearing, from the expression of the girl's eloquent face, that
Wales would win the game, Mrs. Lindsay exclaimed with an
emphasis that made the dog prick up his ears :

^^Gwrdch y Bhibyn — be merciful ! The poor wretch looks as
if he were ready to howl at the bare mention of such a hea-
then, fabulous name. Anything would be an improvement on
the Welsh — Cambyses, Si»rdanapalus, are euphonic in com-
parison."

" Mr. Hargrove, I am much obliged to you for your goodness
in telling me so much about celebrated dogs, and if the queer
names sound any sweeter to me after I am well educated and
grow learned, I will take one of them ; but just now, I believe,
I would rather call my dog Hero."

" Eegina Orrae ! you benighted innocent ! don't make Pey-
ton's hair rise with horror at your slaughter of the 'unities.'
Why, my dear. Hero was a young lady who lived in Sestos a
few thousand years ago, and was not considered a model o<
prudent behaviour even then."

** Are not brave, noble men called heroes % Did not Mr. Etar-
grove say last week that Philo Smith was a hero, when he
jumped into the mill-pond and saved Lemuel Martin from
drowning? Does not my history call Leonidas a herol I
don't know exactly who the ' unities * are, but until I learn
more, I intend to call my dog Hero. To me it seems to mean
everything I wish him to be — good, faithful, brave, grand —
and I shall call him Hero. Come along, Hero, and get some
supper."

f'-vi',ip-^"s»>Sii;f'>Wj(^!»«s-^

7€

INFBLICB,

UHAPTER VL

[RS. OBME, now that you »re eowfortaMe im jovr
wrapper and slippers, let me take down jour hur,
and then I will bring you a cup of tea; not the vile
lukewarm stuff they give us here, but good genuine
tea made out of my own caddy, that has some
strength, and will build you up. Rehearsals don't df en serve
you so badly."

" Thank you, Mrs. Waul, but the tea would only make me
more nervous, and that is a risk I cannot afford to incur. Please
raise both windows — fresh air, even Parisian air, is better for
me than anything else."

" You have not seemed quite yourself since we came here,
and I don't understand at all why two nights in Paris serve
you worse than a week's acting elsewhere."

** Have not I told you that I dread, above every other ordeal,
the critical Parisian audience ? "

" But you passed so successfully through it ! Last night the
galleries absolutely thundered, and people 8eeme<? half wild
with delight. William says the papers are full of praise."

Mrs. Waul crossed the room to lay upon the bureau the steel
pins she had taken from her mistress's hair, and the latter
muttered audibly ;

" For me the ' Idas of March ' are come indeed, but not
passed."

" Did you speak to me % '"

" There comes your husband. I hear his slow, heavy step
upon the stairs. Open the door."

As an elderly white-haired man entered, Mrs. Orme put out
her hand.

" Letters from home, Mr. Waul 1 "

" One from America, two from London, and a note from the
American Minister."

" You saw the Minister, then ? Did he give you the papers
we shall require 1 "

" He has been sick, I believe, but said he would be at the
theatre to-night, and would call and see you to-morrow."

** Hear this sentence, good people, from his note : * Only in-

,:a. ,.uiiinini-nMi

INFELICE.

In-

diipotition prevented my attendance at the theatre last night,
to witneas the brilliant triumph of my countrywoman. Since
the palmy days of Rachel, I have not heard such extravagant
eulogies, and, as an American, I proudly and cordially congratu-
late yeu ' "

" Are you going to faint ? Stand back, William, and let me
bathe her face wim cologne. What is the matter, Mrs. Orme?
You shake as if you had an ague."

But her mistress sat with eyes fixed upon a line visible only
t* herself : " Your countrymen here are very much elated, and
to-night I shall be accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Cuthbert
Laurance, son of Gen. Een6 Ijaurance, whose wealth and social
eminence must have at least rendered his name familiar to all
Americans travelling in Europe."

" Be quick, Phoebe, and get her a glass of wine. She has no
more colour in her lips than there is in my white beard."

" No, give me nothing. I only want rest — quiet."

She crushed the delicate satin paper in her hand, and rallied
her composure. After a moment added :

" A slight faintness, that is all. Mr. Waul, before the curtain
rises to-night, I wish you to ascertain in what portion of the
house the American Minister's box is located ; write it on a slip
of paper, and send it to the dressing-room by your wife. Just
BOW, I believe I have no other commissions. If I do not ring
my little bell, do not disturb me until five o'clock ; then bring
me a cup of strong coffee. And, Mrs. Waul, please baste a
double row of swan's-down around the neck and sleeves of the
white silk I shall wear to-night. Let no one disturb me ; not
even the manager."

As the husband and wife withdrew, she followed them to the
door, locked it on the insidb, and returned to the easy chair.
With a whitening, hardening face, she re-read the note, and
thrust it into one of the silk pockets of her robe.

Although nine years had elapsed since we saw her first, in
the mellow lamplight of Mr. Hargrove's libraiy, time had touch-
ed her so daintily, so lovingly, that only two lines were discern-
ible about the mouth, where habitual compression had set its
print ; and it would have been difficult to realize that she was
twenty-eight, had not the treacherous eyes betrayed the gloom,
the bitterness, the ceaseless heartache that filled them with
shadows which prematurely aged the whole countenance. '*^-
The added years seemed only to have ripened and pdHiected

INFELICE.

her exquisite bejmty, but with the rounded liinoothness and the
fresh pure colouring of youth was mingled a weirdy indescrib-
able expression of stern hopelessness, of solemn repose, as it she
had deliberately shaken hands for ever with all that makes life
bright and precious, and were froffting with calm smile and
quiet pulses a grim and desperate conlSict, which she well knew
could have an end only in the peace of the pall — that long truce,
whose signal is the knell and the requiem.

Had she been reared amid the fatalistic influences of Arabia,
she could not have more completely adopted and exemplified
the marble motto : " Despair is a free man ; — Hope is a slave."
For her, the rosy mist that usually hovers over futurity had
been swept rudely aside, the softening glow of the To-Come
had been precipitated into a dull, pitiless, leaden ever-Present,
at which she neither raved nor railed, but inflexibly fought on,
expecting neither sunshine nor succour, unappalled and patient
as some stony figure of Fate, which, chiselled when the race
was young, feels the shrouding sands of centuries drifting
around and over it, but makes no moan over the buried youth,
and watches the approaching night with the same calm, stead-
fast gaze that looked upon the starry dawn, and the golden
glory of the noon.

The cautious repression which necessity had long ago ren-
dered habitual, had crystallized into a mask, which even when
alone she rarely laid aside for an instant. In actual life, and
among strong positive natures, the deepest feelings find no vent
in the effervescence of passionate verbal outbreaks, and outside
the charmed precincts of the tragic stage, the world would not
tolerate the raving Hamlets and Othellos, the Macbeths and
Medeas, that scowl and storm and anathematize so successfully
in the magic glow of the footlights.

To-day, as Mme. Odille Orme leaned back in her luxuriously
cushioned chair, she seemed quiet as a statue, save the restless
movements of her slender fingers, which twined and inter-
twined continually ; while the concentrated gaze of the imperial
eyes never stirred from the open window, whence she saw —
not Parisian monuments of civic glory and martial splendour —
only her own past, her haunting skull and cross-bones of the
Bygone. Her violet-coloured dressing gown was unbuttoned
at the throat, exposing the graceful turn of the neck, and the
proud poise of the perfectly modelled head, from which the
shining hair fell like Danae's shower, framing the face and figun;

i»TfnTr-nn

MiiiWlllii

JNFEMCB.

on a background as golden as that of some carefully preserved
Byzantine picture.

At last, the heavily fringed lids quivered, drooped, the mag-
nificent eyes closed as if to shut out some vision too torturing
even for their brave penetrating gaze, and in her rigid white-
ness she seemed some unearthly creature, who had done for evei
with feverish life, and the frail toys of time.

Raising her arms above her head, she rested her clasped
hands upon her brow, and in a low, strangelv quiet tone, her
words dropped like icicles.

" It was a groundless fear, that when the long-sought oppor-
tunity came, my weak womanish nature would betray me,
and I should fail — ^bi jik down utterly under the crushing
weight of tender memories, sacred associations. What are they 1
Three dreamy weeks of delirious wifehood, balanced by thirteen
years of toil, aspersion, hatred, persecution ; goaded by want,
pursued ceaselessly by the scorpion scourge, whose slanderous
lash coiled ever after my name, my reputation. Three weeks a
bride, unrecognised as such even then : twelve years an out-
cast, repudiated, insulted, mother and child denied, derided —
cast off as a serpent's skin ! Ah, memory I thou hast no charm
to stir the blackened ashes in a heart extinguished by the steady
sleet of a husband's repudiation. When love is dead, and regret
is decently buried, and the song of hope is hushed for ever,
then revenge mounts the chariot and gathers the reins in her
hands of steel ; and beyond the writhing hearts whose blood
dyes her rushing wheels, sees only the goal. Some wise ana-
tomists of that frail, yet invincible sphinx — woman's nature,
babble of one weighty fact, one conquering law, that only the
mother joy, the mother love, fully unseals the slumbering sweet-
ness and latent tenderness of her being ; for me, maternity
opened the sluices of a sea of hate and gall. Had I never felt
the velvet touch of tiny fingers on my cheek, a husband's
base desertion might in time have been forgiven — possibly —
at least, forgotten ; but the first wail from my baby's lips awoke
the wolf in me. My wrongs might slumber till that last assize,
when the pitying eyes of Christ sum up the record, but hers
have made a hungry panther of my soul. Come, memory, un-
lock your treasure house, uncoil your spells, chant all your
witching strains, and let us see whether the towers of Notre
Danie will not tremble and dissolve as soon as 11"

Bending to a trunk near her chair, she unlocked it, and taking

"''*^S'^7?''^S|p!lP?^*t*?f:^«p^^^

&lg!it0'Mik

f'm'M

INFBLIOB,

out a papier machS box, opened it with a small key that hung
from her watch chain, and placed it on the table before her,
where she had thrown the unread letters. Leaning forward,
she crossed her arms upon the marble, and looked down on the
contents of the box, her child's letters, her own unanswered
appeals in behalf of her babe, a photograph of the latter, and,
most prominent of all, a large square ambrotype of a handsome
boyish face, with a short curl of black hair lying inside the
case.

" Idolatrous 1 Yes, all women are embryo pagans, and
the only comfort is, that when the idol crumbles in' o clay, mock-
ing our prayers and offerings, we still worship at the same old
shrine, having dusted and garnished and i "- thereon — may be
the Furies, which bid fair to survive the wreck of gods, of
creeds, and of time. Like (Enone, we are all betrayed sooner
or later by our rose-lipped Paris —

' Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris;*

and after the inevitable foolish tears of vain regret, we dry
our eyes, and hunt Cassandra, to listen to the muttering of the
thunder that is gathering to avenge us — in Troy. Bride and
bridegroom ; face to lace, Cuthbert ! So you looked, when we
parted ; when you strained me to your heart, and swore that
before a fortnight passed you would hold * darling Minnie in
your arms once more ! ' Did you mean it even then ? No,
no ; already the hounds of slander were snuffing in my path,
and the toils were spread for my unwary feet. Here, look
back at me, my husband, with those iond peerless eyes, as on
that day when I saw you last — all mine ! To-night, across the
gulf of separation, and of shameful wrong, we shall look into
each other's faces once more ; while another woman wears
my name — fills my place at your side. Fair, treacherous face
of my first and only love ; handsome as a god ! lake as«>Apol-
lyon ! "

She had lifted j^he ambrotype and held it close to her eyes ;
then her hand sank until the picture dropped back into its
place, and the lonely desolate woman buried her face in her
palms. The pretty gilt clock on the mantel ticked monoto-
nously, and the hum of life, and the busy roll of vehicles in the
vast city, was borne in through the window, like the faint
roar of yet distant Niagara; and after a while, when the sharp

?^\

■I* i ^■»»iii<iii— »i '^iti mm

mmmmsmmm.

to-
he
int
irp

»/

INFELICE,

stroke of the clock announced four, the bowed figure raised
herself.

Sweeping back the blinding veil of hair, her brilliant brown
eyes shone calm and dry, dimmed by no tears of fond womanly
regret, and as they fell upon the photograph of Regina, a smile
of indescribable bitterness curled the lovely lips that might
have served as model for Psyche's,

" * The trail of the serpent is over all.* Can there be pardon
for the man who makes me shrink shudderingly at times, from
her whose little veins were fed from mine ; whose pulses are
but a throb from my heart ; my baby — My own baby, who,
when I snatch her in my arms, smiles at me with his wonderful
eyes of blue ; and-well nigh maddens me with the very echo -
of a voice whose wily sweetness won my love ; to make an
hour's pastime, a cheap toy ; soon worn out, worthless and
trodden under foot after three weeks' sport ! Stooping over
my baby, when she stretched her little hands and coaxed me
to lift her on my lap, I have started back from the sight of
her innocent face, as if a hooded viper fawned upon me ; for
the curse of her father's image has smitten my only darling,
my beautiful proud child ! Oh, God ! that we had both died in
that dim damp ward of the hospital where she first opened her
her eyes, un welcomed by the father whose features she bears 1"
But beneath this Marah tide that was surging so fiercely
over her long-suffering heart, bubbled the pure, sweet, incor-
ruptible fount of mother love, and while she studied the fair
childish face, her own softened, as that of some snow image
whose features gradually melt as the sunlight creeps across it.
It was a picture taken after Regina's removal to the parson-
age, and represented her with the white rabbits resting in her
arms.

" My proud little Eegina ! my pure sensitive darling ! How
much longer must we be separated % Will the time ever come
when the only earthly rest that remains for me can be taken
in her soft, clinging arms % Patience, patience ! If it were not
lor her, for my baby, I might falter even now j but she must,
she shall be righted at any sacrifice ; at every cost ; and may
the widows' and the orphans' God — be pitiful — be pitiful —
at last."

She raised her child's picture in her clasped hands, as if
appealing indeed to the justice of Him who " never slumbers
nor sleeps ;" and the tremor of her lips and voice told how
passionate was the affection for her daughter, how powerful th^

.-^ gaa B aa r-«"'£i

JNFELICB,

motives that rastained her in the prolonged and torturipg
ordeal.

Restoring the portraits to their hiding place, she locked the
trunk, and as she resumed her seat seemed suddenly to recol-
lect the letters lyinff on the table.

One was a brief note, from the manager of the London
theatre where she had recently been engaged ; the second from
a celebrated money-lender, which bore only the signature
" Simon," and was as follows :

" Dear Madam, — Since our last conversation relative to the
purchase of a certain mortgage, I have ascertained that you can
secure it by adding one hundred pounds to the amount speci-
fied by the holder. Should you still desire me to effect the
transfer, delay might thwart your negotiation, and I respectfully
solicit prompt instructions."

Twice sh'j read these lines, then slowly tore the paper into
strips, shredded and threw them towards the grate, while a
stony expression settled once more upon her features. The
remaining letter was post-marked New York, and addressed, in
a bold, round, mercantile hand ; but when the envelope had been
removed, the formal angular chirography of a school-girl dis-
played itself, and as the sheet was opened, there issued thence
a delicate perfume, that gushed like a breath of spring over the
heart! of the lonely mother.

Several leaves of lemon-verbena and a few violets fell from
the folds of the paper, and picking them up, Mrs. Orme spread
them on her palm. Only a few withered leaves and faded petals
that had crossed the Atlantic to whisper fragrant messages ot
love, from the trusting brave young soul whose inexperienced
hand had stiffly traced at the top of the page : " My darling
Mother."

Ah ! what a yearning tenderness glorified the woman's frozen
face, as the flowers in her hand babbled of the blue eyes that
had looked last upon them ; of the childish fingers that brushed
the dew from their purple velvet ; of the dainty, almost-infan-
tile lips' that had fondly pressed them ; of the holy prayer
breathed over them, that ere the time of violets came again,
mother and child might be reunited.

Just now, she dared not read the letter, dared not surrender
to the softening influences that might melt the rigid purpose of
her soul ; and kissing the flowers reverently, the mother laid
them aside until a more convenient season, and began to walk
glowlv to and fro. . . ,

INFELIOB.

The play that ni^ht was " Kenilwc.th," and had been cast to
admit some alterations made in the dramatization by Madame
Orme, who frequently introduced startling innovations in her
rendering of her parts, and in almost all her favourite rdles
refused ligid adherence to the written text. The reputation
of her beauty and former triumphs, the success achieved on
the previous nights, and certain tart criticisms upon the free-
dom of her interpretation of Scott's lovely heroine, Leicester's
wife, combined to draw a crowded house ; and ere the curtain
rose, every box was occupied, save one on the second tier, near
the stage.

As the crash of the orchestra died away, and the play opened
with the interview between Lambourn and Foster, followed by
Tressilian, and the encounter with Vamey, the door of the box
opened, and the American Minister entered, accompanied by
a lady and gentleman, who, after seating themselves and gather-
ing back the folds of the box curtains, proceeded to scan the
audience.

As they disposed themselves comfortably, a white-haired man,
watching through a crevice in the side scene, scribbled on a piece
of paper which was handed into the dressing-room : " Second
box, second tier, right-hand side. Two gentlemen and a lady
wearing a scarlet cloak."

Sitting between the Minister and her husband, Mrs. Laurance,
with her brilliant wrappings, was the most proi:>inent of the
group, and in the blaze of the gaslight looked at least thirty-
five j a woman of large proportions, compactly built, with broad
shoulders that sustained a rather short thick neck, now exposed
in extreme dicoUetS style, as if to aid the unsuccessful elongation
of nature. Her sallow complexion was dark, almost bistre, and
the strongly marked irre^ilar features were only redeemed from
positive plainness by the large fiery black eyes, whose beauty
was somewhat marred by the intrusive boldness of their ex-
pression. Bowing to some one opposite, her very full lips
parted smilingly over a set of sound strong teeth, rather un-
even in outline, and of the yellowish cast often observed in per-
sons of humble birth and arduous life. Her dusky hair, be-
longing to the family of neutral-brown, was elaborately puffed
and frizzed, and in her ears hung large solitaire diamonds that
glowed like globes of fire, and scattered rays that were reflect
ed in the circlet around hor throat.

Beside her sat her husband, leaning back with negligent

INFELIOM,

grace, and eareleisly itroking hii tiiky blaek ^:^stAohA with
one gloved hand, while the other toyed with a.i. tvc'led opera
glass. Although only two years her junior, she bore the ap-
pearance of much greater seniority, and the proud patrician
cast off his handsome fiace contrasted as rividly with the coarser
lower type of hers, as though in ancient Roman era he had
veritably worm the clmms and the hdla^ while she trudged in
lowly guise among the hard-haaded heroines of the proleiarn.

Over his dreamy violet eyes arched the peculiarly fine jet
brows that Mr. Falma had found •• distinctive in Resina's
face, and his glossy hair and beard possessed that purplish black
tint so rarely combined with the transparent white complexion,
which now gleamed conspicuously in his broad, full, untanned
forehead.

The indolent ins&uciance of his bearing was quite in accord
with his social record, as a proud high-born man of cultivated,
elegant tastes, and unmistakably dissipated tendencies, which
doubtless would long ago have fructified in thoroughly demor-
alized habits had not lus wife vigorously exerted her exigeant
guardianship.

" Have you heard tlie last joke at Count T 's expense 1"

said Mrs. Laurance, tapping the arm of the Minister with her
gilded fan.

" Do you refer to the contretemps of the masks at the Graad
Bain"

" No, something connected with Mme. Orme. It seems the
Count saw her in London, became infatuated — as men always
are about pretty actresses — and the first night she played here
he was almost frantic ; wrote a note between the acts, and
sent it to her twisted in that costly antique scarf-ring he is so
fond of telling people once belonged to the Duke of Orleans {
Before the play ended, it was returned, with the note torn into
several strips and bound around it. Fancy his chagrin ! Col.
Thorpe was in the box with him, and told it next day when

we met at dinner. When I asked T his opinion of

Madame, he answered :

" She is perfectly divine ! but, alas ! only an inspired icicle.
She should be called * Sulitelma,' which I believe means — Cuth-
bert, what did you tell me it meant 1 " '^

" Queen of Snows. Abbie, do lower your voice a trifle,"
he answered without even glancing at her, and she continued :

" I wanted to see her last night in * Medea/ but Cuthbert

IKFMUflM.

engagMn«nt, And >>6«id« Ultle Maud had th«

liad an
eroup-

A itorm of applause out short the nursery budget, and all
turned to the stage where Amy Bobsart entered, followed by
Janet and by Yamey.

Advancing with queemly graoe and dignity to a pile of cush-
ions in the centre of the drawing-room at uumnor Place, she
stood a moment with downcast eyes, till the acclamation ceased,
and Varney renewed his appeal.

Her satin dress was of that exquisite tint which in felicitous
French phraseology is termed de couleur defleur de pScher, and
swept down from her slender figure in statuesque folds, that
ended in a long oeurt train, particularly becoming in the pose
she had selected. The Elizabethan rufi, with an edge of filmy
lace, softened the eifeet of the bodice out square across the
breast, and revealed the string of pearls, Leicester's last gift,
that shone so fair upon his Countess' snowy neck. From the
mass of hair heaped high upon her head, soft tendrils clustered
to the edge of her brow, and here and there a long curl stray-
ed over her shoulder, and glittered like burnished gold in the
glare of the quivering footlights. The lovely arms and hands
were unburdened by jewels, and save the pearh around her
throat, and the aigrette of brilliants in the upper bandeau of
her hair, she wore no ornaments. The perfect impersonation
of a beautiful, innocent happy bride, impatiently expectant of
her husband's entrance, she stood listening to his messenger,
a tender smile parting her rosy lips.

The chair of state chanced to be placed in the direction of
the Minister's box, and only a tew feet distant, and when Var-
ney attempted to place her upon it, she waved him back, and
raising her right hand toward it, said in a calm, deep, pure
voice which had such thrilling emphasis in its lowest cadences :

" No, good Master Eichard Varney, I take not my place
there, until my Lord himself conducts me. I am for the pre-
sent a disguised Countess, and will not take dignity upon me,
until authorized by hii from whom I derived it."

In that brief sentence she knew her opportunity and seized
it, for her glance followed her uplifted hand, mounted into the
box, and sweeping across the Minister, dwelt for some seconds
on the dark womanly countenance beside him, and then fastened
upon the face of Mr. Laurance.

Some whose seats were on that side of the house, and whc

INFELICE.

chanced to have their lorgnettes levelled at her just then, saw
a long shiver creep over her, as if a blast of cold air had blown
down through the side scene, and a sudden spark blazed up in
the dilating eyes, as a mirror flashes when a candle flame smites
its cold dark surface ; but not a muscle quivered in the fair
proud face, and only the Yarney at her side noticed that when
the slight hand fell back, it sought its mate wi^h a quick grop-
ing motion, and the delicate fingers clutched iach other till the
ntuls grew purple.

For fully a moment that burning gaze rested on the features
that seemed to possess some subtle fascination for her, and
wandering back to the wife, a shadowy smile hovered around
the lips that were soon turned away to answer Yarney. As
she moved in the direction of a window, to listen foi the clattex
of horses' hoofs, Mrs. Laurance whispered :

" Is not she the loveliest creature you ever beheld ? I nevei
saw such superb eyes ; they absolutely seemed to lighten just
now. Cuthbert, did you only notice how she looked right at
me ? I daresay my solitaires attracted her attention, and n«
wonder ; they are the largest in the house, and these actresses
always have an eye to the very best jewellery. Of course it
must have been my diamonds."

From the moment when Amy Robsart entered, Cuthbert
Laurance felt a strange magnetic thrill dart through every fibre
of his frame; his sluggish pulse stirred, and as her mesmeric
brown eyes, luminous, overmastering, met his, he drew hie
breath in quick gasps, and his heart in its rapid throbbing
seemed to pour liquid fire into the bounding arteries. Some
vague bewildering reminiscence danced through the clouded
chambers of his brain, pointing like a mocking fiend now this
way, then in an opposite direction ; one instant assuring him
that they had somewhere met before, the next torturing him
with the triumphant taunt that he had hitherto never known
any one half so lovely. Was it merely some lucky accident
that had so unexpectedly brought them during that long flat-
tering gaze, thoroughly en rapport ?

He no more heard lus wife's hoarse whisper than if a cyclone
had whirled between them, and leaning forward to catch the
measured melody that floated from the Countess's lips, a crim-
son glow fired his cheek as he caught the lofty words :

"I know a cure for jealousy. It is to speak truth to my
Lord at aH times ; to hold up my mind, my thoughts before

r-.A-

INFELICE.

him, as pure as that polished mirror, so that \/hen he looks into
my heart, he shall see only his own features reflected there. '"^
Can he who took my little hands and made them wifely, laying
therein the precious burden of his honour, afford to doubt the palms
are clean f "

No wonder Yarney stared, and the prompter anathematized
the sadden flicker of the gas jet that caused him to lose his
place ; there was no such written sentence as the last, and the
rehearsal proved no sure index of all the Countess uttered that
night, but the play rolled on, and when the folding doors flew
open and Amy sprang to meet her noble husband, the house
began to warm into an earnest sympathy.

In the scene that followed, she sat with childlike simplicity
and grace on the footstool at Leicester's feet, while he exhibited
the jewelled decorations of his princely garb, and explained the
significance of the various orders ; and in the face upturned to
him who filled the chair of state, there was a wealth of loving
tenderness that might have moved colder natures than that
which now kindled in the deep violet eyes that watched her
from the Minister's box.

Gradually the curious, timid, admiring bride is merged in
the wife, with ambition budding in her heart, an enacting pride
pleading for recognition and wifely dignities, and in this trans-
formation the power of the woman asserted itself.

Bending toward Leicester, until from the low seat she sank
unintentionally upon her knees, she prayed with passionate
fervour :

" But shall not your wife — my love, one day soon — be sur-
rounded with the honour which arises neither from the toils of
the mechanic who decks her apartment, nor from the silks and
jewels with which your generosity adorns her, but which is at-
tached to her place among the matronage, as the avowed wife
of England's noblest Earl 1 'Tis not the dazzling splendour oj
your title that I covet, but the richer, nobler, dearer coronet of your
beloved name, the precious privilege of fronting the world as your
acknowledged wife^

Again, in answer to his flattering evasive sophistries, she
asked in a voice whose marvellous modulations, in the midst of
intense feeling, seemed to penetrate every nook of that vast
building :

Mrs. Orme's interpolations are all italicized.

iU TSSC tS W ^ .TilWflft*^- ,

*ta^K

INFELIOE.

** But why can it not be ? Why can it not immediately take
place, this more perfect uninterrupted union, for which you say
you wish, and which the laws of God and man alike command ?
Think you my unshod feet would shrink from glowing ploughshares,
if crossing them I found the sacred shelter of my husband's name ?
Ah, husband/ dost blanch before the storm of condemnation, which
has no terrors for a wife's brave heart ? It would seem but scant
and tardy justice, to own thy wedded wife /"

The Earl had led her behind the scenes, and the Minister
had twice addressed him, ere Mr. Laurance recovered himself
sufficiently to perceive that his companiona were smiling at his
complete absorption.

" Why, Cuthbert, wake up. You look like some one walk-
ing open-eyed in sleep. Has Madame's beauty dazzled you as
utterly as poor Count T ? "

His wife pinched his arm, but without heeding her he looked
quite past her, into the laughing eyes of the Minister, and
asked :

" Do you know her ? Is her husband living 1 "

" I shall call by appointment, to-morrow, but this is the first
time I have seen her. Of her history I know nothing, but ru-
mour pronounces her a widow."

"Which generally means that these pretty actresses have
drunken, worthless husbands, paid comfortable salaries to shut
their eyes and keep out of the way," added Mrs. Laurance,
lengthening the range of her opera glass, and levelling it at a
group, where the simmer of jewels attracted her attention.

How the words grated on her husband's ear, grown strangely
sensitive within an hour !

Carelessly glancing over the sea of faces beneath and around
him, the Minister continued :

" English critics contend that Mme. Orme's * Amy Robsart'
is so far from being Scott's ideal creation, that he woifld fail to
recognise it were he alive ; still, where she alters the text and
intensifies the type, they admit that the dramatic eflfect is
heightened. She appears to have concentrated all her talent
upon the passionate impersonation of one peculiar phase of femi-
nine suflFering and endurance — that of the outraged and neg-
lected wife — and her favourite roles are 'Katherine' from Henry
Vni., * Hermione,' and * Medea,' though she is said to excel in
* Deborah.' My brother, who saw her last night as * Medea,'
pronounced her fully equal to Rachel, and said that in that

SMMMM

>W |[tw t

INFELICE.

scene where she attempted to remove her children from the
side of the new wife, the despairing fury of her eyes literally
raised the few thin hairs that still faithfully cling to the top of
his head. Ah, the parting with Leicester — how marvellously
beautiful she is ! "

Leaning against a dressing-table loaded with toilet trifles
and bijouterie, Amy stood, arrayed in the costume which dis-
played to greater advantage the perfect symmetry of form and
the dazzling purity of her complexion.

The cymar of white silk bordered with swan's-down exposed
the gleaming dimpled shoulders, and from beneath the pretty
lace coif, the unbound glory of her long hair swept around her
like a cataract of gold, touching the hem of her silken gown,
where, to complete the witchery, one slippered foot was visi-
ble. When her husband entered to bid her adieu, and the final
petition for public acknowledgment was once more sternly
denied, the long-pent agony in the wom!in*s heart burst all
barriers, — overflowed every dictate of wounded pride, and, with
an utter abandon of genuine, poignant grief, she gave way to a
storm that shook her frame with convulsive sobs, and deluged
her cheeks with tears. Despite her desperate efforts to main-
bain her self-control, the sight of her husband's magnetic,
handsome face — after thirteen weary years of waiting — un-
nerved, overwhelmed her. There in the temple of Art, where
critical eyes were bent searchingly upon her. Nature triumph-
antly asserted itself, and she who wept passionately from the
bitter realization of her own accumulated wrongs, was wildly
applauded as the queen of act) esses, who so Siiccdssfully simu-
lated imaginary woes.

By what infallible criterion clial] oriticdom decide the boun-
daries of the Actual and tlic Ideal ? Who shall compute the
expenditure of literal hearcLche that builds up the popularly
successful Desdemonas, Oamilles, aui Marie Stuarts; — the
scalding tears that gradually ciysfcallize into the classic repose
essential to the severe simplicity of the old Greek tragedies %

The curtain fell upon a bowed and sobbing woman, and the
tempest of applause that shook the building was prolonged
until, after a time. Amy Robsart, with tears still glistening on
her cheeks, came forward to acknowledge the tribute, and her
silken garment^ were pelted with bouquets. Among the num-
ber tha<t embroidered the stage lay a pyramid of violets edged
with rose geranium leaves, and raising \i she bent her lovely
p

'YiTiTf"

r-,i'pw'WI«WlS*V''';

•SKX

INFELICE.

head to the audience and kissed the violets, in memory oi
her far-ofi child, whose withered floral tribute was more pre-
cious to the woman's heart than all the laudatory chaplets o
the great city, which did homage to her genuine tears.

Some time elapsed while the play shifted to the Court, re-
counting the feuds of Leicester and Sussex ; and when Amy
Robsart appeared again, it was in the stormy interview where
Varney endeavours to enforce the Earl's command that she
shall journey to Kenil worth as Varney 's wife. The trembling
submissiveness of earlier scenes was thrown away for ever, and
as if metamorphosed into a Fury, she rose, towered above him
— every feature quivering with hatred, scorn and defiance.
. " Look at him, Janet ! that I should go with him to Kenil>
worth, and before the Queen and nobles, and in presence of my
own wedded lord, that I should acknowledge him — him there
— that very cloak-brushing, shoe-cleaning fellow — him there
: — my lord's lacke;f , for my liege lord and husband 1 I would
I were a man but for five minutes ! — but go 1 begone ! — "

She paused, panting ; then threw back her haughty head,
rose on tiptoe, and, shaking her hand in prophetic wrath and
deathless defiance, almost hissed into the box beneath which
Varney stood :

" Go, tell thy master that when I, like him, can forget my
plighted trothj turn craveUf bury honour^ and forswear my mar-
riage vows, — tJien, oh then / I promise him I will give him a rivals
something worthy of the name ! "

Was the avenging lash of conscience uncoiled at last, in
Cuthbert Laurance's hardened soul, iliat the blood so suddenly
ebbed from his lips, and he drew his breath like one oversha-
dowed by a V empire % Only once had he caught the full gleam of
her indignant eyes, but that long look had awakened tortures
that would never entirely slumber again, until the solemn hush
of the shroud and the cemetery was his portion. No suspicion
of the truth crossed his mind, even for an instant, for what
resemblance could be traced between that regal woman, and
the shy, awkward, dark-haired little rustic, who thirteen years
before had frolicked like a spaniel about him, loving but
lowly %

In vain he sought to arrest her attention ; the actress had
only once looked at the group, and it was not until near the
close that he succeeded in catching hor glance.

After her escape from Varney, Amy Robsart reached in dis-

-4

==»«6*«!W»aB"

tNFELrCB.

dis-

guise the confines of Kenilworth, and standing there, travel-
worn, weary, dejected, in sight of the princely Castle, with its
stately towers and battlements, she first saw the honie whose
shelter was denied her, the palatial home where Leicester
bowed in homage before Elizabeth. As a neglected repudiated
wife, creeping stealthily to the hearth where it was her right to
reign, Amy turned her wan, woful face to the audience, and
fixing her gaze with strange mournful intentness upon the eyes
that watched her from the box, she seemed to throw her
whole soul into the finest passage of the play.

" I have given him all that wor^.an has to givpi. Name and
fame, heart and hand, have I given the Lord of all this mag-
nificence — at the altar, and Eugland's Queen could give no
more. He is my husband,— I am his wife, I will be bold in
claiming my right ; even the bolder, that I come thus unex-
pected and forlorn. Whom God hath joined, man cannot
sunder.**

The irrestible pathos of look and tone electrified that wide
assemblage, and in the midst of such plaudits as only Paris be-
stows, she allowed her eyes to wander almost dreamily over
the surging sea of human heads, and as if she were in truth
some hunted, hopeless, homeless waif appealing for sympa-
thy, she shrouded her pallid face in the blue folds of her travel-
ling cloak and disappeared.

" She must certainly recognise her countrymen, for that
splendid passage seem^ i almost thrown to us, as a tribute to
our nationality. What a wonderful voice ! And yet — she is so
slender, so fragile," said the Minister.

" Did you observe how pale she grew towards the last, and
so hollow-eyed, as i^ utterly worn out in the passionate strug-
gle % " said Mrs. Iiaurance.

" The passion of the remaining parts belongs rather to Lei-
cester and the Queen., By the way this is quite a handsome
Earl, and the whole cast is decidedly strong and successful.
Look Laurance ! were you an artist would you desire a finer
model for an Egeria 1 If Madame had been reared in Canova's
studio she could not possibly have accomplished a more elegant
felicitous pose. I should like her photograph at this moment."

In the grotto scene, Amy was attired in pale sea-green silk,
and her streammg hair braided it with yellow light, as she
shrank back from the haughty visage of the Queen.

Kapidly the end approached, courtiers and maids of honoui

INFELIOB.

S's- '\

crowded upon the stage, and thither Elizabeth dragged the un-
happy wife into the presence of the Earl, crying in thunder
tones : " My Lord of Leicester ! knowest thou this woman 1 "

The craven silence of the husband, the desperate rally of the
suffering wife to shield him from the impending wrath, until at
last she was borne away insensible in Hunsdon's stroug arms,
all followed in quick succession, and Amy's ill-starred career
approached its close, in the last interview with her husband.

When Cuthbert Laurance was a gray-haired man, trembling
upon the brink of eternity, there came a vision in the solemn
hours of night, and the form of Amy — wan as some marble
statue, breathed again in his ear, the last words she uttered that
night.

" Take your ill-fated wife by the hand, lead her to the foot-
stool of Elizabeth's throne ; say that ' in a moment of infatua-
tion moved by supposed beauty, of which none perhaps can
now trace even the remains, I gave my hand to this poor Amy
Eobsart.' You will then have done justice to me, and to your
own honour ; should law or power require you to part from
me, I will offer no opposition, since I may then with honour
hide a grieved and broken heart in those shades, from which
your love withdrew me. Then have but a little patience,
and Amy's life will not loug darken your brighter prospects."

.The fatal hour arrived ; the gorgeous pomp and ceremonial
of the court-pageant had passed away, and in a dim light the
treacherous balcony at Cumnor place was visible. In the hush
that pervaded the theatre, the Minister heard the ticking of his
watch, and Mrs. Laurance the laboured breathing of her
husband.

Upon the profound silence broke the tramp of a horse's hoofe
in the neighbouring courtyard, — then Varney's whistle in imi-
tation of the Earl's signal when visiting the Countess.

Instantly the door of her chamber sw^mg open, and standing
a moment upon the threshold, Amy in her fleecy white drapery
wavered W:^^ a d fting cloud, then moved forward upon the bal-
cony ; file t;.ap-door fell ; and the lovely marble face with its
lustrous b.v<.^\/n eyes sank iiiCo the darkness of death.

\ '

VK^Mim

INFELIOB.

CHAPTER VII.

\0 men and women of intensely emotional nature, it some-
times happens that a day of keen and torturing sus-
pense, or a night's vigil of great anguish, wars and
darkens a countenance more indelibly than the lapse
of several ordinary monotonous years ; and as Madame
Orme sat in her reception room at one o'clock in the following
afternoon, awaiting the visit of the Minister, the blanched face
was far sterner and prouder than when yesterday's sun rippled
across it, and bluish shadows beneath the large eyes that ha^
not closed for twenty-four hours, lent them a deeper and more
fateful glow.

The soft creamy folds of her Cashmere robe were relieved at
the thjroat by a knot of lilac ribbon, and amid its loops were
secured clusters of violets, that matched in hue the long spike
of hyacinth which was fastened to one side of the coiled hair,
twined just behin the ear, and drooped low on the snowy
neck. Before her on a gilded stand, was the purple pyramid of
flowers she had brought from the theatre, and beside them lay
several perfumed envelopes with elaborate monograms. These
notes contained tributes of praise from strangers who had been
fascinated by her " Amy Robsart," and begged the honour of
an interview, or the favour of a " photograph taken in the silken
cymar which so advantageously displayed the symmetry of her
figure."

Among the latter, she had recognised the handwriting of Mr.
Laurance, though the signature^vas " Jules Duval," and her
fingers had shrunk from the folds of rose paper, as though
scorched by flame. Lying there on the top of the billets-doiix,
the elegant graceful chirography of the " Madame Odille Orme"
drew her gaze, like the loathsome fascination of a basilisk, and
taking a package of notes from her pocket, she held them for a
inoment close to the satin envelope. Upon one, the name of
the popular Actress, — on the others — in the same peculiar
beautiful characters, — ** Minnie Merle." She put away the
latter, and a flash of scorn momentarily lighted her rigid face.

" Craven as of old ! Too cowardly to boldly ask the thing
his fickle fancy favours, — he begs under borrfwed names.

((^*!&«A;

r^aismtm^t^

INFELICE,

Doubtless his courage wilts before his swarthy, bold-eyed
Xantippe, who allows him scant latitude for flirtations with
pretty actresses. To be <Jirown aside, — trampled down — for
such a creature as Abbie Ames ! — his coarse-featured, — dia-
mond-dowered — bride I Ah ! my veins run lava, when I think
of her thick heavy lips — pressing that haughty perfect mouth,
— where mine once clung so fondly ! Last night the two
countenances seem like — *as Hyperion to a Satyr!' How
completely he sold his treacherous beauty to the Banker's
daughter, — whom to-day he would willingly betray, for a fairer,
fresher face. Craven traitor ! "

She passed her handkerchief across her lips, as if to efface
some imaginary stain, and they slowly settled back into their
customary stern curves.

Just then a timid tap upon the door of the reception room,
was followed almost simultaneously by the entrance of Mrs.
Waul, who held a card in her hand.

" The waiter has just brought this up. What answer 'shall
he take back?"

Mrs. Orme glanced at it, sprung to her feet and a vivid scar-
let bathed her face and neck.

•' Tell him — No ! no — no ! Madame Orme begs to decline
the honour."

Then the crimson tide as suddenly ebbed, — she grew ghastly
in her colourlessness, and her bloodless lips writhed, as she called
after the retreating figure :

" Stop ! Come back, — let me think."

She walked to the window, and stood for several moments
as still as the bronze Mercury on the mantel. When she turned
around, her features were as fixed as if they belonged to some
sculptured slab from Persepolii^

" Pray don't think me weak and fickle, but indeed Mrs.
Waul, some of my laurels gash like a crown of thorns. Tell
the waiter to show this visitor up, after five minutes, — and then
I wish you to come back and sit with your knitting yonder, at
the end of the room. And please drop the curtain there, — the
pink silk will make me look a trifle less ghostly, after last night's
work. You see I am disappointed, I expected the American
Minister on business, and he sends this Paris beau, to make
his apologies, — that is all."

As the old kdy disappeared, Mrs. Orme shuddered, and mut
tered with clenched teetl^ •

MSMnsfHli

a«Bi

INFELICU.

"AH have a Gethsemane sooner or later, — and mine has
overtaken me before I am quite ready. God grant me some
strengthening Angel ! "

She sank back into the arm-chair, and drew the oval gilt table
before her as a barrier, — while some inexplicable, intuitive im-
pulse prompted her to draw from her bosom a locket contain-
ing Regina's miniature. Touching a spring, she looked at the
childish features so singularly like those she had seen the pre-
vious evening, — and when Mrs. Waul returned and seated her-
self at the end of the room, — the spring snapped, the locket lay
in one hand, the Minister's card in the other.

Mrs. Orme heard the sound on the stairs and along the hall, —
the well-remembered step. Am^d the tramp of a hundred she
could have singled it out, — so -fi ^n in by-gone years had she
crouched under the lilacs that ove. hung the gate, — listening for
its rapid approach, — waiting to throw herself into the arms that
would clasp her so fondly, to-day that unaltered step smote her
ears like an echo from the tomb, and for an instant her heart
stood still, and she shut her eyes, — ^but the door swung back
and Mr. Laurance stood upon the threshold. As he advanced,
she rose, and when he stood before her with outstretched hand,
she ignored it, — merely rested her palm on the table between
them ; and glancing at the card in her fingers, said :

"Mr. Laurance I believe, — introduced by the American
Minister. A countryman of mine, he writes. As such I am
pleased to see you, Sir^ for when abroad the mere name of
American — is an open sesame to American sympathy and hospi-
tality. Pray be seated, Mr. Laurance. Pardon me, not that
stiff-backed ancient contrivance of torture, which must have
been invented by Eymeric. You will find that green velvet
Voltaire, — like its namesake, — far more easy,— afifording ample
latitude."

The sweet voice sung its silver chimes as clearly ^ when
she trod the stage, and no shadow of the past cast its dusky
wing over her proud pale face, while she gracefully waved him
to a seat, and resumed her own.

" It Madame Orme, so recently from home, yields readily to
the talismanic spell of * American' —she can perhaps imagine
the fascination it exerts over one who for many years has
roamed far from his roof-tree, and his hearthstone ; but who
never more proudly exulted in his nationality than last night,—
when as Queen of Tragedy — Madame lent her lustre to tht
Land that claims the honour of being her birth-place,"

•.imi'irtwiiMiiiiii 1.1^

INFBLIOE.

"Thanks. Then I may infer you paid me the [tribute of
your presence last evening 1 "

They looked across the table, into each other's eyes, hers
radiant with a dangerous, steely glitter, — his eloquent with the
intense admiration which kindled on the previous evening, —
now glowed more fervently from the con turn nlation of a beauty
that to-day appeared ten-fold more irre!i>istiuie. The question
slightly disconcerted him.

" T had the honour of accompanying our Minister, and sharing
his box."

" Indeed 1 I have never had the plea i re of meeting him,
and hoped to have seen him today, as he fixed this hour foi
the arrangement of some business details, concerning which, 1
was advised to consult him. One really cannot duly appreciate
American liberty, until one has been trammelled by foreign for-
malities and Continental police quibbles."

An incredulous smile, ambushed in his silky moustache, wae
reflected in his fine eyes, as he recalled the flattering emphasis
with which she had certainly singled out his face, in that vast
auditory, — and thoroughly appreciating his munificent inherit-
ance of good looks, he now imagined he fully interpreted hex
motive in desiring to ignore the former meeting.

" Doubtless hundreds who shared with me the delight you
conferred by your performance last night, would be equally
charmed to possess my precious privilege of expressing my unr
bountled fidmiration of your genius ; but unfortunately the im-
prtssioii prevails that mj charming countrywoman sternly
interdicts all gentleman visitors, — denies access even to the
most ardent of her worshippers, — and I deem myself the most
supremely favoured of men in having triumphantly crossed into
the enchanted realm of your presence. Of this flattering dis-
tinction, I confess I am very proud."

It was a bold challenge, and sincerely he rued his rashness,
when raising herself haughtily, she answered in a tone that
made his cheeks tingle :

" Unfortunately your countrywoman has not studied human
nature so superficially as to fail to comprehend the snares and
pitfalls which men's egregious vanity sometimes spring prema-
turely ; and rumour quotes me aright, in proclaiming me a re-
cluse when the curtain falls, and the lights are extinguished.
To-day I deviated from my usual custom, in ccmpliment to the
representative of my counti^, who sends you, — so his card

393=

■jMfiSKii'V. ; .^ . ■

INFELICE.

reads — 'charged with an explanation of his unavoidable ab-
sence.' As Minister-extraordinary, may I venture to remind
Mr. Laurance of his errand 1 "

Abashed by the scornful gleam in her keen wide eyes, he re-
plied hastily :

" A telegram from Pan summoned him this morning to the
bedside of a member of his family, suddenly attacked with
dangerous illness, and he desired me to assure you that so soon
as he returned, he would seize the earliest opportunity of con-
gratulating you upon your brilliant triumph. In the interim ho
places at your disposal certain printed regulations, which wil>
supply the information you desire, — ^and which you will find m
this envelope. May ' hope Madame, that the value of thi con-
tents will successfuL^ ' ^ad the paruon of the audacious — yet
sufficiently rebuked r iger 1 " He rose, and with a princely
bow, offered the packio.

Suffering her eyes to follow the motion of his elegantly-
formed aristocratic hand, now ungloved, — one swift glance
showed her that instead of the unpretending slender gold cir-
clet she had placed on the little finger of his left hand, the day
of their marriage, — a ring endeared to her because it had been
her Mother's bridal pledge, — he now wore a flashing diamond,
in a broad and costly setting. Almost unconsciously, her own
left hand glided to the violets on her breast, — beneath which,
securely fastened by a strong gold chain, she wore the antique
cameo ring, with its grinning death's head resting upon her
heart.

Slightly inclining her head, she signed to him to place the
papers on the table, and when he bad resumed his seat, she
asked :

" How long Mr. Laurance, since you left America ? "

" Thirteen or fourteen years ago ; yet the memories of my
home are fresh and fragrant as though I quitted it only yester-
day."

"Then happy indeed must have been that hearthstone,
whdi^ rose-coloured reminiscences linger so tenderly around
your heart, and survive the attrition of a long residence in
Paris. Your repertoire of charming memories, tempts me
almost to the verge of covetousness. In what portion of the
United States did you reside 1 "

My boyhood was spent in one of the Middle States, where
my estate is located, but my collegiate life removed me to the

.^- i^

^^^^

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KiotDgraphic

Sciences

Corporation

73 WIST MAIN STRIET

WUSTIR.N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

.<!i.

INFMUCM.

N'orth, whence I came immediately abroad. My residence in
Europe confirms the belief that crossed the Atlantic with me,
that m beauty, grace, and all the nameless charms that consti-
tute the perfect, peerless, fascinating woman, my .own country
pre-eminently bears the palm. Broad as is her domain, and
noble her civil institutions, the crowning glory of America
dwells in her lovely and gifted women."

He had never looked handsomer than at that moment as
slightly bendine his head in homage, his dangerously beautiful
eyes rested with an unmistakable expresssion upon the fault-
less features before him ; and watchine him,' a cold smile broke
up the icy outlind of his companion's delicate lips :

'*^American beauty mi^t question the sincerity of a cham-
pion whose worship is offered only at foreign shrines, and the
precious oblation of whose heart is laid on distant and strange
altars."

"Ah, madam, neithex^ at foreign shrines, nor strange ftltars,
but ever unwaveringly at the feet of my divine comntry-
women. Is it neediiu that I recross the ocean, to bow before
the reigning muse % Is it not conceded that the brightest,
loveliest pk^et in Parisian skies, brought all her splendour £rom
my western home 9"

" How you barb with keec regret the mortifying reflection
that, I alas ! cannot as an^ American lay claim to a moiety of
your ^hivalric allegiance ! " Ill-fated Odille Orme I "

The stinging sarcasm in the liquid voice perplexed him, and
the strange lambent light that seemed now and then to ray out
of the brilliant eyes that had never wandered from his, sent an
uncomfortable thrill over him.

" Surely the world cannot have erred, in according to my
own country the honour of your nationality % "

" I was born upon a French ship in the middle of the At-
lantic ocean.

" Ah, dearest madam f then it is no marvel that as you have
inherited the cestus of Aphrodite, your votaries bow as blin^y,
»8 helplessly as those over whom your ancient Greek mSikes
fuJed so despotically. By divine right of birth you should
reign as Odille Anadyomene." *

" Madame Odille Orme has abjured the pagan itosthetics that
leem to trench rather closely upon Mr. Laurance's ethics, and
jhed far too rosy an orientalism over his mind and heart;
ind hopes he will not forget her proud boast that by divine

''I

■ta

IMFMUOM.

ri|;ht the wesrs a dearer, nobler, holier title — Odille Orme,
wif(d and mother."

Bolder lib«rtiniim than found shelter in 'ib. Lauranoe's per-
verted nature, would have cowered before the pure face that
now leaned far forward, with dilated soomful eyes whidi
seemed to run like electric rays up and down the secret cham-
bers of his heairt

Involuntarily he shrank back into the depths of his chair,
and mutely questioned, as on the previous night, " where have
I heard that voice belore 9 "

With some difficulty he recovered himself, and said hastily :

** Will you forgive me if I tell you frankly, that ever since I
saw you last night, I have been tantalized by a vague yet Very
precious consciousness that somewhere, you and I have met '
Wore 1 When or where, I cannot conjecture, but of one
thing I am painfully certain, we can never be strangers
henceforth. Some charm in your voice, in the repression of
your eyes — when as * Amy Eobsart,' the loving woman, you
looked so fondly into your 'Leicester's' face,' awoke dim
memories that will never sleep again. Happy, enviable
indeed — ^that Leicester who really rules the empire of your
love."

Tightening the clasp of her palms which enclosed the little
gold locket containing the image of their child, a wintry smile
broke over her white face, lending it that mournful glimmer
which fading moonlight sheds on some silent cenotaph in a
cemetery. -

" If my stage tricks of glance or tone, my carefully studied
and practised attitudes and modulations, recall some neglected
memories of your sunny past, let me hope that Mr. Laurance
links me with the holy associations that cluster about a mother's
or a sister's sacred features ; reviving the earlier years, when
he offered at the shrine of friendship, of honour, and of genius
— ^tributes too sincere to admit the glozing varnish of fulsome
fashionable adulation, which degrades alike the lips that utter
and the ears that listen. If at some period in the mysterious
future you — whom, because my countryman, I reluctantly con-
sented to receive— should really discover a noble, lovely woman,
before whose worth and beauty that fickle heart you call your
own utterly surrenders, and whom winning as wife, and cherish-
ing as only husbands can the darlings they worship, you were
finally torn away from, b^ inexorable death, the only powe^

100

mFELIOS.

that can part hasbands and wives, then think yon, Mr. Lan-
rance, that the universe holds a grave deep enough to keep you
quiet in your coffin — if vain, heartless men profaned her sacred
widowhood by such utterances as you presume to offer me 1
The stage is the arena, where in gladiatorial combat I wage my
battle with the beasts of Poverty and Want ; there I receive
the swelling acclamation of triumph or the pelting hisses of de-
feat ; there before the footlights where I toil for my bread, I
am a legitimate, defenceless target for artistic criticism ; but out-
side the precincts of the theatre I hold myself as sacred from
the world as if I stood in stone upon an altar behind some con-
vent's bars ; and as a lonely, sorrow-stricken mother, widowed
of the father of my child, bereft of a husband's tenderly jeal-
ous guardianship, I have a right to claim the profound respect,
the chivalric courtesy, which every high-toned, honourable gen-
tleman accords to worthy, stainless women. Because as an
Actress I barter my smiles and tears for iood and raiment for
mjr fatherless child, it were not quite safe to ima^e that I
share the pagan tendencies which appear to have smitten some
of my countrymen with moral leprosy."

The words seemed to burst forth like a mountain cataract
tong locked in snow, which, melting suddenly under some un-
seasonable fiery influence, falls in an impetuous icy torrent,
bearing the startling chill of winter into flowery meadows, where
tender verdure, sown thick with primroses and daisies, smilei?
peacefully in summer sunshine.

Twice the visitor half rose and essayed to speak, but that
deep, steady voice bore down all interruption, and as he watched
her, Mr. Laurance, just then, would have given the fortune of
the Bothschilds for the privilege of folding in his own the per-
fect hands that lay clasped on the marble slab.

While her extraordinary beauty moved his heart, as no other
woman had yet done, the stern bitterness of her rebuke ap-
pealed to the latent chivalry and slumbering nobility of hif
worldly soul. Looking upon his flushed, handsome face, inter-
preting its eloquent, varying expressions, by the aid of glancing
lights which memory snatched from long gone years, she saw
this struggle in his dual nature, and hurried on, warned by the
powerful magnetism of his almost invincible eyes, that the
melting spell of the Past was twining its relaxing fingers about
the barred gateway of her own throbbing heart.

" grained in the easy school of latitudinarianism so fashion

tsnuam.

101

able now-a-day on both sides of the Atlantio, doubtless Mr.
Laurance deems his adopted countrywoman a nervous, puri-
tanical prude ; and upon my primitive and well-nigh obsolete
ideal of social decorum and propriety — ^upon my lofty standard
of womanly delicacy and manly honour — 1 can patiently tolerate
none of the encroachments with which I have recently been
threatened. Just here, Sir, permit a pertinent fllustration oi
the impertinence that sometimes annoys me."

Lifting between the tips of her fingers the pretty peach-
bloom-tinted note, whose accusing characters betrayed the
hand that penned it, she continued, with an outbreak of in-
tense and overwhelming contempt :

" Listen — ^if you please, — to the turbid libation which some
rose-lipped Paris, some silk-locked Sybarite poured out last
night, after leaving the theatre. Under pretence of adding a
leaf to the chaplets, won by what he is pleased to term * divine
dramatic genius,' — ^this * Jules Duval ' — let me see, — I would
not libel an honourable name, — yes — so it is signed — ^this Jules
Duval, this brainless, heartless, soulless Narcissus, with no
larger sense of honour than could find ample waltzing room on
the point of a cambric needle, — insolently avows his real senti-
ments in language that your vaUt might address to his favour-
ite grisette, — and closes like some ardent accepted lover, with
an audacious demand for my photograph, * to wear forever
over his fond and loyal heart 1 ' That is fashionable homage
to my genius — is it ? I call it an insult to my womanhood !
Nay — I am ashamed to read it! 'Twould stain my cheeks,
soil my lips, — dishonour your gentlemanly ears. Mr. Lau-
rance, if ever you should become a husband, and truly love
the woman you make your wife, you will perhaps comprehend
my feelings— when some gay unprincipled gallant profanes the
sanctity of her retirement, with such unpardonable, such un-
merited insolence."

She held it up between thumb and forefinger, shaking out
the pink folds till the signature, in violet ink, flaunted before
the violet eyes of its owner, — then crushing it as if it were a
cobweb, she tossed it toward the window.

•Turning her head, she said in an altered and 'elevated
tone :

" Mrs. Waul, may I disturb you for a moment 9 "

The quiet figure clad in sober gray, and wearing a muslin
cap whose crimped ruffle enclosed in a snowy frame the bene-

102

INFELICB,

volenfc wrinkled countenance, — came forward, knitting in hand,
spectacles on her nose, — and for the first time the visitor
became avirare of her presence.

** Please lower the curtain yonder, besid<^ the Haghre, the sun
shines hot upon Mr. Laurance's brow. Then touch the bell,
and order the carriage to be ready in twenty minutes."

Humiliated as he had never been before, Mr. Laurance
resolved upon one desperate attempt to regain the position
his vanity had rashly forfeited. Waiting until the Quaker-like
duenna had retreated to her former seat, he rose and leaned
across the small table, — and under his rich low voice, and
passionately pleading eyes, the actress held her breath, and
clutched the locket till its sharp edge sunk into her quivering
flesh.

"You dismiss me as unworthy of your presence, and ac-
knowledging the justice of your decree, I sincerely deplore the
fatuity that prompted the offence. Your rebuke was warrant-
ed by my foolish presumption, and confessing the error into
which I was betrayed by your condescending notice last night,
— I humbly and sorrowfully solicit your generous forgiveness.
Fervid flattering phrases sorely belie my real character, if sink-
ing me almost beneath your contempt, you deem me devoid of
a high sense of honour, or of chivalric devotion to noble woman-
ly delicacy. Madame Orme, if your unparalleled beauty, grace,
and talent bewitched me into a passing folly and vain imperti-
nence^ for which indeed I blush, — your stern reproof recalls
me to my senses, — to my better nature ; — and I beg that upon
the unsullied word of an American gentleman, you will accept,
with my apology, the earnest assurance that in quitting this
room, I honour and revere my matchless countrywoman far
more than when I entered her noble presence. Fashionable
freedom may have demoralized my tongue, but by the God
above us, I swear it has not blackened my heart, nor deadened
my perception and appreciation of all that constitutes true
feminine refinement and purity. You have severely punished
my presumptuous vanity, and now, will you not mercifully par-
don a man, who, finding in you the perfect fulfilment of his
prophetic dr'^ams of lofty as well as lovely womanhood, hum-
bly but most earnestly craves permission to reinstate himself
in your regard ; — to attempt to win your esteem and friend-
ship, — which he will value far more highly than the adoration
of any — ^yee, of all other women 1 "

•s<

INFEUCE.

103

' t

He was so near ner, that she saw the regular quick flutter ol
the blue vein on his fair temples, and as the musical mastering
voice so well remembered — and once so fondly loved — stole
tenderly through the dark, lonely, dreary recesses ot her deso-
late aching heart — it waked for one instant a wild madden-
ing temptation — an intense longing to lift her arms, clasp
them around his neck— lean forward upon his bosom— and be
stt rest.

In the weary years that followed how bitterly she denounced
and deplored the fever of implacable revenge that held her
back on that memorable day t Verily for each of us, " a Ne-
mean Lion lies in wait somewhere " — and a lost opportunity
might have cost even Hercules that tawny skin he wore^ as
trophy.

Mr. Laurance saw a slow dumb motion of the pale lips ^at
breathed no sound to fill the verbal frame they mutely fashioned,
— " my husband," — and then with a graduiu drooping of the
heavily lashed lids, the eyes closed. Only until one might have
leisurely counted five, was he permitted to scan the wan face
in its rare beautiful repose, then again her eyes pitiless as fate
met his— 'SO eager, so wistful — and she too rose, confronting
him with a cold proud smile.

" I tear Mr. Laurance unduly bemoans and magnifies a mis-
take, which, whatever its baleful intent, has suffered in my
rude iiUiospitable hands an 'untimely nipping in the bud,'
and most ingloriously failed of consummation. After to-day,
the luckless incident of our acquaintance must vanish like some
farthing rushlight set upon a breezy down to mark a hidden
quicksand ; for in my future panorama I shall keep no niche
for mortifying painful days uke this ; and you, Sir, amid the
rush, and glow, and glitter of this bewildering French capital,
will have little leisure and less inclination to recall the unflatter-
ing failure of an attempted flirtation with a pretty but most utter-
ly heartless actress, who wrung her hands, and did high tragedy,
and stormed and wept for gold ! Not for perfumed pink MUta-
doux — nor yet for adulation and vows of deathless devotion
from high-bom gentlemen handsome and heartless enough to
serve in Le Musie du Louvre as statues of Apollo— but for gold,
Mr. Laurance, only for gold I "

" Do not inexorably exile me, do not refuse my prayer for
the privilege of sometimes seeing you. Permit me to comt
here and teach you to believe in my **

104

JNFBUCE.

f.'

<* Li jiu n*en vaut pas h ehandelh I "—she exclaimed, — ^with
I quick nervous laugh that grated grievously upon his ear.

" Madame, I implore you not to deny me the delight of an
30oasional interview."

A sudden pallor crept across his eager face, and he at-
tempted to touch the fair dimpled hand, which still grasping
the locket, rested upon the table.

Aware of his purpose, she haughtily shrank back, drew her
self up, and folding her arms so tiehtly over her breast that the
oameo ring pressea dose upon her oounding heart, — she looked
down on him as from some distant heieht, with an intensity oi
quiet scorn that no language could adequately render,— that
bruised his heart like hail-stones.

« I deny you henceforth all opportunity of sinking yoursell
still deeper in my estimation, — of annoying me by any future
demonstrations of a style of admiration, I neither desire, ap-
preciate, nor intend to permit. If accident shoidd ever thrust
Sou again across my path, you will do well to forget that oui
[inister committed the blunder of sending you here to-day.
Mr Laurance will please accept my thanks for this packi^e oi
pap.ers, which shall be returned to-morrow to the office of the
American Embassy, Jiesolved to forget the unpleasant inci-
dents of to-day, Madame Orme is compelled to bid you good«
bye."

Angry but undaunted, his eloquent eyes boldly bore up undez
hers, — as if in mortal challenge ; and he bowed with a degree
of graceful hmUuty fully equfd to her own best efforts.

*' Madame's commands shall be rigidly and Uterally obeyed,
for Guthbert Laurance is far too proud to obtrude his presence
or his homage on any woman \ but Mrs. Orme's interdict does
not include that public realm, where she has repeatedly assured
me that gold always secures admission to her smiles, — and from
which no earthly power can debar me. Watching you from the
same spot, where last night you floated like an angelic dream
of my boyhood, — like a glorious revelation — upon my vision
and my heart, I shall de^ the world to maiv the happiness in
store for me, so long as you remain in Paris. A distant but
devoted worshipper, cherishing the memory of those thrilling
gluiceswith which* Amy Robsart' favoured ^me,-T-permit me
to wish Madame Orme a pleasant ride, and good afternoon."

He bent his halndsome head low before her, and left the room
less like an exie than a conqueror, buoyed by. an abiding

INWELICE,

105

fatalism, a fond faith in that magnetic influence and fascination
he had hitherto successfully exerted over all whom his way-
ward, fickle, fastidious fancy had chosen to enslave.

When the sound of his retiring footsteps was no longer audi-
ble, the slender white-robed figure moved unsteadily across the
floor, entered the adjoining dressing-room, and locked the door.

The play was over at last, the long tension of nen'e, the iron
strain on brain and heart, the steel manacles on memory, all
snapped simultaneously , — the actress was trampled out of
sight, and the woman, — the weak, suflering, long-tortured
woman bowed down in helpless and hopeless agony before her
desecrated mouldering altar, — was alone with the dust of her
overturned and crumbling idol.

" My husband ! Oh God ! Thou knowest — not hers, — not

that woman's— but mine ! all mine t My baby's father I — my

Cuthbeil; — my own husband ) "

•
" Oh pMt ! past the sweet times that I remember well I
Alas that such a tale my heart can tell !
Ah how T trusted .him ! what love was mine ;
How sweet to feel his arms about me twine,
And my heart beat with his I What wealth of blis
To hear his praises ; — all to come to this, —
That now I aurst not look upon his face — ^

Lest in my heart that other thing have place^
That which men call hate 1

OH vFTER VIII.

lONSENSE Elise ! 3he is but a child and I beg you
will not prematurely magnify her into a woman. There
are so few unaffected, natural children in this genera-
tion, that it is as refreshing to contemplate our little
girl's guileless purity and ingenuous simplicity, as to gaze upon
cool green meadows on a sultry, parching August day. Keep
her a child, let her alone."

Mr. Hargrove wiped his spectacles with his handkerchief, and
replaced them on his Roman nose, with the injured air of a
man who having been interrupted »in some favourite study, to
O

106

IITFELICE.

take cognizance of an unexpected^ nnwelcome and altogether
unpleasant fact,maje8tioally refuses to inspect, and dogmatically
waves it aside, as if to ignore — were to annihilate.

" Now Peyton, for a sensible man (to say nothing of the
astute philosopher and the erudite theologian), you certainly do
indulge in the most remarkable spasms of wilful, obstinate, pre-
meditated blindness. You need not stare so desperately at Uiat
page, for I intend to talk to you, — and it is useless to try ta
snub either me or my facts. Regina is young I know, not
quite fourteen, but she is more precocious, more mature, than
many girls are at sixteen ; and you seem to forget that having
always associated with grown people, she has imbibed their
ideas and caught their expressions, instead of the more juvenila
forms of thought and speech usual in children who live among
children. She has as far outgrown jumping-ropes, as you have
tops and kites, and has no more relish for fairy tales, than your
Reverence has for base-ball, or my Bishop here, for marbles.
Suppose last October I had sprinkled a paper of lettuoe-seed
in the open border of the gsffden, and on the same day you
had sown a lot of lettuce in the hot-beds against the brick
wall, where all the sunshine falls) Would you refuse your
crisp, tempting, forced salad, because it had reached perfection
so rwidly 1 "

** Mother do you intend us to understand that Begina ia
very tender, and very verdant ) " asked Mr. Lindsay, looking
up from a grammar that lay open before him.

" I intend you Sir, to stuay your Hindustanee, and your
Tamil, while I experiment upon the value of analogical reason-
ing, in my discussions with your uncle. Now Peyton, you see
that child's mind has been for nearly four years in an inteUectual
hot-bed, — sunned in the light of religion, — moistened with the
dew of philosophy,— cultivated systematically with the prongs
and hoes of regular study, of example and precept :~and being
a vifforous sprout when she was transplanted, she has made
good use of her opportunities, — and behold f early mental salad,
and very fine ! i ou men theorize, ratiocinate, declaim, dog-
matize about abstract propositions, and finally get your feet
tangled and stumble over facts right under your noses, that
women would never faU to pick up and put <aside. The soul
<id Thales possesses you all, — whereas we who sit at the cradle,
•hd guide the little tottering feet, study the ground and sweep
•way tibt stumbling-blocks. Day after day» you and Douglass

tmm

■esaas

"•

IJfFMLICM.

107

ditcuM all kinds of tcientifio theories — and quote jpagan author*
ities and infidel systems in the presence of Kegina, — who
site in her low chair over there in the comer of the fire-place,
as quiet as a white mouse, listening to every word, though
Hans Christian Andersen lies open in her lap, — and scarcely
winking those blue eyes of hers, that are as solemn as if they
belongM to the Judges of Israel. If a child is raised in a car-
penter's shop, with all manner of sharp, dangerous, often two-
edged tools scattered around in every direction, who wonders
that the little finders are prematurely gashed and scarred t
Yon and Douglass imagine she is dreaming about the number of
elves that dance on the greensward on moonlight nights, — or
the spangles on their lace wings ; — or that she is studying the
latitude and longitude of the Capital of the last Temtory
which Congress elevated to the uncertain and tormenting dig-
nity of nominal self-government, — that once (vide * obsolete and
civil hallucinations ') inhered in an American State j or per-
haps you believe the child is longing for a pot of sugar candy 1
Then rub your eyes, you ecclesiastical bats, and lot me show
you the * outcome ' of all this wise and learned chat, with
which you edify one another. You know she beguiled me into
giving her lessons on the organ, as well as the piano, and yes-
terday when I went over to the Church at instruction hour, I
was astonished at a prelude, which she had evidently impro-
vised. Screened from her view, I listened till she finished
playing. Of course I praised her (for reallv she has remark-
able tident), and asked her when she began to compose, to im-
provise. Now what do you suppose she answered 9 A brigade
of Philadelphia lawyers could never guess. She looked at me
y&tj steadily, and said as nearly as I can quote her words : ' I
really don't know exactly when I began, but I suppose a long
iime ago, when I wore brown feathers, and went to sleep with
my bead under my wing, as all nightingales do.* Said I : * What
upon earth do you mean ? ' She replied : ' Why of course I
mean when I was a nightingale, — before I grew to be a human
being. Didn't you hear Mr. Hargrove last week reading from
that curious book, in which so many queer things were told
about transmigration, and how the soul of a musical child came
from the nightingale, the sweetest of singers % And don't you
recollect that Mr. Lindsay said that Plato believed it ; and
that Plotinus taught that people who lead pure lives and yet
love music to excess, go into the bodies of melodious birds

tfW

108

INFELJCE.

when they die 1 Just now when I played, I was wonderine
how a nightingale felt, swinging in a plum tree all white with
fragrant bloom, and watching the cattle cropping buttercups
and dandelions in the field. Mrs. Lindsay, li' my soul is not
perfectly fresh and brand-new, I hope it never went into a
human body before mine, — because I would much rather it
came straight to me from a sweet innocent bird."

" Surely Elise, you are as usual, iesting f " exclaimed her
brother.

" On the contrary I assure you I neither magnify nor embel-
lish. I am merely stating unvarnished facta, that you may
thoroughly understand into what fertile soil your scattered
grains of learning fall I promise you, with moderate cultiva-
tion it will yield an hundredfold."

" Mother what did you say to her, by way of a dose of ortho-
dozy to antidote the metempsychoBis poison t " asked Mr.
Lindsay, who could not forbear laughing, at the astonished ex-
pression of his uncle's countenance.

'* At first I was positively dumb, — and stared at the child,
very much as I daresay — Mahamaia did, — when her boy Ard-
dha-Ohiddi stood upon his feet and spoke five minutes a(ter his
entrance into this world of woe, — or when at five months of
age he sat unsupported in the air. Then I shook her, and asked
if she had goue to sleep and dreamed she was a bulbul feeding
on rose leaves j whereupon, she looked gravely dignified, and
when I proceeded to reason with her concerning the absurdity
of the utterly worn-out-doctrine of ti'ansmigration, how do you
iuppose she met me t With the information that far from be-
ing a worn-out-doctrine, learned and scientific men now living
were reviving it as the truth ; and that whereas Christianity
was only eighteen hundred years old, — that metempsychosis
had been believed for twenty-nine centuries, and at this day
numbers more followers, by millions, than any other religion in
tlie world. I inquired how she learned all this foolish fustian,
iind with an indescribable mixture of pride, pity, and triumph,
iusf if she realized that she was throwing Mont Blanc at my
head, she mentioned you two eminently evangelical guides,
from whose infallible liys she had gleaned her knowledge. As
for you, Douglass, I suggest you alMudon Oriental studies, fore-
go the dim hope of martyrdom in India, and begin your mis-
uionary labours at home> My dear, the Buddhist is at your own
door. Now Peyton how do you relish the flavour of your philo-
sophical salad 1 "

INFKUCE.

109

'•

*' I am afraid I have been culpably thongbtless in introdncing
to her mind, various doctrines and theories, which I never
imagined she could comprehend, or would even ponder for a
moment. Since my sight has become so impaired and feeble,
I have several times called on her to read some articles which
certainly are not healthful pabulum for a child, and my con-
versations with Douglass, relative to scientific theories have
been carried on unreservedly in her presence. I am very glad
you warned me."

" And I am exceedingly sorry, if the effect of my mother's
words should be to hamper and cramp the exercise of Besina's
faculties. Free discussion should be dreaded only bv hypo-
crites and fanatics, and after all it is the best crucible ror elim-
inating the false from the true. Does the contemplation of
physical monstrosities engender a predilection or affection for
deformity f Does it not rather by contrast with symmetry and
perfect proportion heighten the power and charm of the latter )
The beauty of truth is never so invincible as when confronted
with sophistry or falsehood ; just as youth and health seem
doubly fair and precious, in the presence of trembling decrepi-
tude and revolting disease."

" Keally Bishop ! I thought you had passed the sophomorio
stage, and it is a shameful waste of dialectic ammunition to
throw your antitheses at me. According to your doctrine,
America ought to buy up and import all the deformed unfortu-
nates whb are annually exposed in China, in order, that our peo-
ple should properly appreciate the superiority of sound limbs,
and the value of the five senses ; and healthy young people
should throng the lazarettos and alms-houses, to learn the
nature of their own advantages. Is it equally desirable that
wise men like you and Peyton should accustom yourselves to
the society of — well — I use polite diction, — of imbeciles, of
' innocents,' in order to let a true value on learning and your
own astute locio ? "

'* My dear little mother, you chop your logic so furiously
with a broad axe, that you darken the air with a hurricane of
chips and splinters. Like all ladies who attempt to argue, you
rush into the reductio ad ahmrdtim^ and find it impossible to
discriminate between"

" Wisdom and conceit ) Bless you Bishop — observation has
taught me all the shades and delicate gradations of that differ-
ence. We women no more mistake the latter for the former.

iw iiii . ' i e v

tlTFSUOS.

than the ^ods who declined to tarn cannibal when they went
to dine with Tantalus, and were offered a fricasse of Pelops.
Now I"

" Ceres did eat of it I " exclaimed her son, adroitly avoiding
a tweak of the ear, by throwing his head back, beyond the
touch of her fingers.

" A wretched pagan fable Sir, — with which orthodox Bishops
should hold no communion. Tell me, you beardless Gamaliel,
where you accumulated your knowledge relative to the educa-
tion of girls % Present us a chart of your experience. You talk
of hampering and cramping Begina's faculties, as if I had put
her brains in a pair of stays, and daily tightened the lacers."

" I am inclined to think the usual forms of female education
have precisely that effect. The fact is mother, it appears that
women in this country are expected to< become the reserve
magazines of piety, of religious fervour— on the certain power-
ful principle that 'ignorance is the mother of devotion.'
True knowledge which springs from fearless investigation, is a
far nobler, and more reliable conservator of pure vital Christi-
anity."

" Exempli gratia, — Miss Martineau and Madame Dudevant,
who arQ crowned heads among the cognoscenti f Or perhaps
you would prefer a second * La Pelouse,' governed by Miss
Weber, who certainly agrees with you, ' that girls are trained
too delicately to allow the mind tp expand.' Illuminated and
expanded by * philosophy' and ' social progi'ess' she and Madame
Dudevant long ago literally abjured stays, and glory in the
usurpation of vests, pantaloons, coats, and short hair. Be
pleased to fancy my Begina — my blue-eyed snow-bird, shorn
of that

* Gloriole of ebon locks on calmed brows !

I would rather see her in her cofSh ; — shrouded in a ruffled
pinafore,"

" Much as I love her, so would I ; but Elise we will antici-
pate no such dreadful destiny. She has a clear fine^mind, is
dtudious and ambitious, but certainly ndt a genius, — unless it
be in music ; and she can be trained into a cultivated refined
woman suj£ciently conversant with the sciences' to comprehend
the contemporaneous development, without threatening us
with pedantry, or adopting a style suitable to the groves of
Crotona, in the days of Damo, or the abstruse mystical diction

nrFELios,

111

;•

that doomed Hypatia to the mercy of the monks. After all,
why scare up a blue-stockinged ogre, which may have no in-
tention of depredating upon our peace ; — ^for to be really learned
is no holiday amusement in this cumulative age, and offers little
temptation to a youn^ girl. Not long since, I found a sentence
beanng upon this subject, which impressed itself upon my mind
as both strong and healtl y : 'And by this you may recognise
true education from false. " False education is a delightful thing,
and warms you, and makes you every day think more of your-
self; and true education is a deadly cold thing, with a Gorgon's
head on her shield, and makes you every day think worse of
yourself Worse in two ways also, more is the pity ; — it is per^
petually increasing the personal sense of ignorance, and the
personal sense of fault.' "

" In that event, may I venture to wonder where and how you
and Douglass stand in your own estimation 1 If quotations are
en rigle, I can match your Reverence, — though unfortunately
my feminine memory is not like yours — a tireless beast of
burden, — and I must be allowed to read. Here is the book close
at hand, in my stocking basket Now, wise and gentle Sirs,
this is my ideal of proper, healthful, feminine education, as
contrasted with our new-fangled method of making girls either
lay-figures for millinery, jewellery, and frizzled false hair, — or
else, — ^far more horrible still, — social hermaphrodites, who
storm the posts that have been assigned to men ever since that
venerable and sacred time when * Adam delved and Eve span,'
and who, forsaking holy home haunts, wage war against nature
on account of'the mistake made in their sex, — and clamour for
the * hallowed inalienable right ' to jostle and be jostled at the
polls ; to brawl in the market place, and to rant on th'e ros-
trum, like a bevy of bedlamites. Now, when I begin to read,
listen, and tell me frankly — whether when you both make up
your minds to present me, one a sister, — the other a daughter,
— ^you will select your wives from amoug^^uaint Evelyn's al-
most obsolete type, — or whether you will commit your name,
affections, wardrobe, larder, pantry and poultry to a strong-
minded female * scientist ' — who will neglect your socks and
buttons, to ascertain exactly how many Vibg^nes and Baderia
float in a drop of fluid, — and when you coraihome tired and
very hungry, will comfort you, and nobly atone for the injury
of as iU-cooked and worse-served dinner, — by regaling your
weary ears with her own ingenious and brilliant interpretation

112

INFBLICE.

and translation of JElia, Lcelia Cnspis / Here is my old-fash-
ioned English damsel, meek as a violet, fresh as a deWy daisy,
and sweet as a bed of thyme and marjoram. ' The style and
method of life are quite changed, as well as the language, since
the days of our ancestors, simple and plain as they were,
courting their wives for their modesty, — frugality, keeping at
homej good housewifery, and other economical virtues then in
reputation. And when the young damsels were taught all
these at home in the country at their parents' houses, the por-
tion they brought being more in virttie than money, — she being
a richer match than any one who could bring a million, and
nothing else to commend her. The virgins and young ladies
of miat golden age put their hands to die spindle, nor dis-
dained the needle ; were obsequious and helpful to their pa-
rents, instructed in the management of the family, and gave
presage of making excellent wives. Their retirements were
devout and reixgious books, their recreations in the distillery
atod knowledge of plants, and their virtues for the co^ifort of
their poor neighbours, and use of the family, which wholesome
diet and kitchen physic preserved- in health. Then things
were natural, plain and wholesome ; nothing was superfluous,
— nothing necessary wanted. The poor were relieved bounti-
fully, and charity was as warm as the kitchen, where the fire
was perpetual.' Now, if Kegina were only my child, I
shomld with some modifications, train her after this mellow old
style."

" Then I am truly thankful she is not my sister ! Fancy
her pretty pearly fingers encrusted with gingerbread-dough ;
or her entrance into the library heralded by the perfume of
moly,'> — or of basil and sage, — tolerable only as the familiars of
a dish of sausage meat ! Don't soil my dainty white dove with
the dU0t and seot and rank odours that belong to the culinary
realm."

"Your white d#re? Do you propose to adopt her? A
month hence, when you are on your way to kidia, what differ-
ence oan ift possibly make to you whether she is as brown as a
quail or black as a crow ? Before you come back she will have
been conscripted into the staid army of matrons, and trans-
mogrified into 4lnt Mrs. Ptolemy Thenison,r-or lean and
care-worn Mrs. Simon Smith, — orwor^ethAn all— erudite Mrs.
Professor Belshazzar Brown, — spelling Hercules aft^ the
learned style, with the loss of the u, and the substitution of a

wmtmasa

INFBLICE

113

k ; — or making the ghost of Ulysses tor.x Ms hair, by writing
the name of his enchantress ' Kirk6 ! ' "

As Mrs. Lindsay spoke, the smile vanished from her lips,
and looking keenly at her son's countenance she detected the
change that crossed it, the sudden glow that mounted to the
edge of his hair.

Avoiding her eyesr, he answered hastily .

" Suppose those distinguished gentlemen you mention chance
to be scholars, mvanSy and disposed to follow the advice of Jou-
bert in making their matrimonial selection \ * We should choose
for a wife only the woman we should choose for a friend,
were she a man.' Think you mere habits of domesticity, or
skill in herbalism, would arrest and fix their fancy? "

" But Bishop, they might consider the Talmud more vener-
able .authority than Joubert, and the Talmud says — so I am
told : — * Descend a step in choosing a wife ; monn^ a step in
choosing a friend.' **

" Thank heaven ! there is indeed no Salique Law in the
realm of learning. Mother, I believe one of thie happiest augu-
ries of the future, consists in the broadening views of educa-
tion that are now held by some of our ablest thinkers. If in
the morning of our religious system, St. Peter deemed it ob-
ligatory on us to be able and ' ready always to give an an-
swer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is
in you,' — how doubly imperative is that duty in this controver-
sial age, — ^when the popular formula has been adopted, ' to
doubt, to inquire, to discover ;' — when the hammer of the geol-
ogist pounds into dust the idols of tradition, — and the lenses
of astronomy pierce the blue wastes of space, which in our
childhood we fondly believed were the Jiabitat of cherubim and
seraphim. Now mother, if you will only insure my ears against
those pink tweezers, — of which they bear stinging recollections,
— I should like to explain myself.**

Mrs. Lindsay plunged ' *^r hands int* the depths of her
stocking basket, and said . tentiously :

" The temple of Janus is closed."

*' What is the origin of the doctrine that erudition is the sole
prerogative of men, and that it proves as dangerous in a
woman's hands, as phosphorus or gunpowder in those of a
baby "

*• Why Eve's experience, of course. A ton of gunpowder
would not have blown up the garden of Eden more efiectually,

.Mim<«o i i m*

INFELIOB,

than did her light touch upon an outside branch of the tree of
knowledge. I would say Genesis was acceptable authority to
a young minister of the gospel."

'< That is a violation of the truce, — Elise. You are skirmish-
ing with his picket line. Go on Douglass."

" It is evidently a remnant of despotic barbarism, a fungoid
growth from Oriental bondage "

<' Bishop, may I be allowed to ask if you are inferring to
Genesis)"

** Dear little mother, I refer to the popular fallacy, that, in
the same ratio that you thoroughly educate women, you unfit
them ^ for the holy duties of daughter, wife, and mother. Is
there *an inherent antagonism between learning and womanli-
ness % "

''Indeed dear, how can I tell % I am not a ' Della-Cruscan. '
I only ' sti^ain' milk into my dairy pans."

'' Elise do be quiet. You break the thread of his argument."

'' Then it is entirely too brittle to hold the ponderous pro-
positions he intends to string upon it. Proceed my son."

'' Are we to accept the unjust and humiliating dogma that
the more highly we cultivate feminine intellect, the more un-
feminine, unlovely, unamiable, the individual certainly becomesi
Is a woman sweeter, more gentle, morie useful to her family
and friends, because she is unlearned 1 Does knowledge exert
an acidulating influence upon female temper ; or — produce an
ossifying effect on female hearts 1 Is ignorance an inevitable
concomitant of refinement and delicacy T Does the knowledge
of Greek and Latin cast a blight over the flower-garden, or a
mildew in the pantry and linen closet ; or do the classics pos-
sess the power of curdling all the milk of human-kindness, all
the streams of tender sympathy in a woman's nature, as rennet
coagulates a bowl of sweet milk % Can an acquaintance with
literature, art, and science so paralyze a lady's energies, that
she is rendered utterly averse to, and incapable of performing
those domestic ofiices, those household duties so pre-eminently
suited to her slender dexterous busy little fingers 1 . Why — my
own wise precious little mother is a living refutation of so grossly
absurd, and monstrous a dogma ! Have not you boxed my
.ears, because when stumbling through the 'Anabasis,' my
Greek pronunciation tortured your fastidious and correct taste 1
Did not you tell me that you read nearly the whole of Sallust,
by spreading the book open on the dairy-shelt^ while you

^SBbbiq

INFELIOM,

115

churned — ^thus saving time Y And dia not mat same sweet
golden butter made under the shadow of a Latin dictionary — win
you the Sta*e Fair Premium — of that very silver cup from which
I drank my milk, as long as I wore knee pants and round jackets f
Was it not my father's fond baast that his wife's proficiency in
music was equalled only by her wonderful skill in making muf-
fins, pastry and omdette souffle ? "

With genuine chivalrio tenderness in look and tone, he in-
clined his head ; but though a tear certainly glistened in Mrs.
Lindsay's bright eyes, she answered gayly :

"Am I Cerberus — to be coaxed and cheated by a well-
buttered sop of flattery ? Betum to your mutton, reverend
Sir, and know that I am incorruptible, and disdain to betray
my cause, for your thirty pieces of potent praise."

" I think," said Mr. Hargrove, taking a bunch of cherries
from the fruit-stand on the library-table, " I think the whole
matter may be resolved into this ; the ambitious clamours and
amazonian excesses oi this epoch, are the inevitable conse-
quence of the rigid tyranny of former ages ; which stemly.ban-
ished women to we numbing darkness of an intellectual night,
denying them the legitimate and natural right of developing
their faculties by untrammelled exercise. This belief in femi-
nine inferiority is still expressed in Mohammedan lands, by the
custom of placing a slate or tablet of marble on a woman's
grave — while on that of men a pen or penholder is laid, to in-
dicate that female hearts are mere tablets, on which man writes
whatever pleases him best. In sociology, as well as physics
and dynamics — the angle of reflection is always equal to the
angle of incidence — the psychologic rebound is ever in propor-
tion to the mental pressure, one extreme invariably impinges
upon the opposite — and when the pendulum has reached one
end of the arc, it must of necessity swing back to the other.
In all social revolutions, the moderate and reasonable conces-
sions which might have appeased the discontent in its incip-
iency — are gladly tendered much too late in the contest, when
the insurgents stung by injustice, and conscious of their griev-
ances, refuse all temperate compromise, and run riot. This
woman's-rights and woman's-suffrage abomination is no sud-
denly concocted social bottle of yeast ; it has been fermenting
for ages, and having finally blown out the cork, is rapidly Ida-
vening the mass of female malcontents."

** But Uncle, Peyton, you surely discriminate between a few

116

INFJSUCB.

noisy ambitious sciolists who mistake lyceiim notoriety for re-
nown, and the noble band of delicate, refined womeii whose
brilliant attainments in the republic of letters, are surpassed
only by their beautiful devotion to God, family, and home 1
Fancy Mrs. Somerville demanding a seat in Parliament, or
Miss Herschel elbowing her way to the hustings? Whose do-
mestic record is more lovely in its pure womanliness than
Hannah More's, or Miss Mitford's, or Mrs. Browning's ; — who
wears deathless laurels more modestly thaa Bosa Bonheurl
It seems to me. Sir, that it is not so much the amount, as the
quality of the learning that just now ought to engage attention.
I see that one of the ablest and strongest thinkers of the day
has handled this matter in a masterly way, and with your per-
mission I should like to read a passage : ' In these times the
educational tree seems to me to have its roots in the air, its
leaves and flowers in the ground ; and I confess I should very
much like to turn it upside down, so that its roots might be
solidly embedded among the facts of Nature, and draw thence
a sound nutriment for the foliage and fruit of literature and of
art. No educational system can have a claim to permanence,
unless it recognises the truth that education has two great ends,
to which everything else must be subordinated. One of these
is to increase knowledge ; the other is to develop the love of
right, and the hatred of wrong. At present, education is almost
entirely devoted to the cultivation of the power of expression,
and of the sense of literary beauty. The matter of having any-
thing to say, beyond a hash of other people's opinions, or of
possessing any criterion of beauty, so that we may distinguish
between the God-like and the devilish, is left aside as of no
moment. I think I do not err in saying that if science were
made the foundation of education, instead of being at most
stuck on as cornice to the edifice, this state of things could not
exist.' Such is the system I should like to see established in
our own country."

"Provided you could rely upon the moderation of the
teachers ; for unless wisely and temperately inculcated, this
system would soon make utter shipwreck of the noblest in-
terests of humanity. For many years I have watched atten-
tively the doublings of this fox, — and while I yield to no man
in solemn fidelity to truth, I want to be sure that what I accept
as such, is not merely old er^r under new garbs, — only a
change of disguising terms. Science has its fetich, as well as

Mil

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^CXTTTTr.

INFBLICE.

117

superstition, and abstruse terminology does not always conceal
its stolid gross proportions. The complete overthrow and an-
nihilation of the belief in a Personal, (Governing, Prayer-answer-
ing God, is the end and aim of the gathering cohorts of science
— and the sooner masking technicuities are thrown aside, the
better for all parties. Scientific research and analysis nobly
brave, patient, tireless, and worthy of all honour and gratitude,
— have manipulated, decomposed, and then integrated the uni-
versal clay, — but despite microscope and telescope, chemical
analysis and vivisection, — they can go no further than the whir-
ring of the Potter's wheel, — and the Potter is nowhere revealed.
The moulding Creative hand and the plastic clay are still as
distinct, as when the gauntlet was first flung down by proud
ambitious constructive science. Animal and vegetable organ^*
isms have been analyzed, and — ' the idea of adaptation devel-
oped into the conception that life itself, " is the definite combi-
nation of heterogeneous changes, both simultaneous and succes-
sive in correspondence with eternal coexistence and sequences." '
Now to the masses who are pardonably curious concerning
tliis problem of existence, is this result perfectly satisfactory t
The ' Physical basis of life ' has been driven into a corner,
hunted down, seized at last, and over the heads of an eager,
panting, chasing generation, — is triumphantly dangled this
' Scientific Fox' brush, — 'Nucleated Protoplasm, the structural
unit ! ' But how or whence sprang the laws of ' Protein t '
Hatred of certain phrases is more bitter than of the principles
they express, and because theologians cling to the words God,
Creative Acts, Divine Wisdom, Providential Adaptation, —
scientists declare them the dicta of ignorance, superstition and
tradition, and demand that we shall bow before their superior
wisdom, and substitute such terms as 'Biogenesis,' 'Abio-
genesis,' and ' Xenogenesis.' But where is the economy of
credulity t Th^ ^oblems are only clouded by a subtle veil of
learned or scientific verbiage, and their solution does not reduce
the expenditure of faith. The change of names is not worth
the strife, for the Clay and the Potter are still distinct, — and
He who created cosmic laws cannot reasonably or satisfac-
torily be confounded with or merged in His own statutes.
Creeds, theories, systems are not valuable because they are
religious and traditional, — or because they are scientific and
I >liilosophical, — but solely on account of their truth. So^ Doug-
hxa^if I am not suro^that your essentially scientific method wul

118

INFMUOM.

teach Begins any more real wisdom in ethics or ^tiolo^ than
her great-grandmother possessed."

" You forget, Uncle re^ton, that in this rapidly advancing
age, only improved educational systems will enable men and
women to appreciate the importance of its discoveries ? "

" My dear boy, are sudden and violent changes always syn-
onymous with advancement ? Is transition inevitably improve-
ment f Was the social status of Paris after the revolution of
1790, an appreciable progress from the morals, religious or
political that existed in the days of Fenelon ) In mechanical,
agricultural, and chemical departments the march is indeed
nobly on and upward, the discoveries and improvements are
vast and wonderful, and for these physical material blessin&;s
we are entirely indebted to Science, — toiling, heroic and truly
beneficent Science. In morals public or private — religion
national or individual — or in civil polity have we advanced ?
Has liberty of action kept pace with liberty of opinion ) Are
Americans as truly free to-day, as they certainly were , fifty
years ago ? In sBsthetics do we surpass Phidias and Praxiteles,
Raphael and Michael Angelo ) Is our music more perfect than
Pergolesi's or Mozart's 1 Can we exhibit any marvels of archi-
tecture that excel the glory of Philss, Athens, Psestum and
Agra I Are wars less bloody, or is crime less rampant 1 Our
arrogant assumption of superiority is sometimes mournfully
rebuked. For instance, one of the most eminent and popular
Scientists of England, emphasized his views on the necessity
of 'improving natural knowledge,' by ascribing the great
plague of 1664 — and the great fire of 1666 — which, in point of
population and of houses, nearly swept London from the face
of the globe, — ^to ignorance and neglect of sanitary laws, and
to the failure to provide suitable organizations for the sup-
pression of couflagrr>itions. He proudly asserted that the recur-
rence of sucii cpcastrophes is now prohibited by scientific
arrangements ' that never allow even a street to burn down,'
and that ' it is the improvement of our natural knowledge
which keeps back the plague.' I think I am warranted in
the assumption that our American Fire Departments, Insurance
Companies, and Boards of Health are quite as advanced, pro-
gressive and scientific as similar associations in Great Britain ;
— yet the week after I read his argument an immense City lay
almost in ruins ; and ere many months passed, several towns
and districts of our land were scourged, desolated by pestilence

JNFBUOE.

119

BO fatal, so unconquerable, that the horrors of the plague were
revived, and the living were scarcely able to sepulchre the
dead. Now and then we have solemn admonitions of the
Sisyphian tendency of the attempt so oft defeated, so persis-
tentfy renewed to banish a Personal and Ruling Gkd, and sub-
stitute the scientific Fetich, — ' Force and Matter,' ' Natural
Law,' 'Evolution' or 'Development.' While I desire that
the basis of Regina's education shall be sufficiently broad,
liberal and comprehensive, I intend to be careful what doc-
trines are propounded ; for unfortunately all who sympathize
with the atheism of Comte, have not his noble frankness, and
fail <» print as he did on his title page ;

' Biorganittr aana Dieu ni rot,
Par le culte syttimcUxque de VHumaniti.* **

" Oh Peyton ! what fearfully, selfishly long sentencesfyon
and Douglass inflict upon each other and upon me ! The
colons and semi-colons gather along the lines of conversation
like an army of martyrs, and to my stupidly weary ears, that
last, that final period, was a most ' sweet boon ' — a crowning
blessing. If Regina's nightingale soul is to be vexed by such
disquisitions as those from which you have been quoting, — I
must say, it made a sorry bargain in exchanging brown feathers
for pink flesh, and would have had a better time trilling madri-
gals in same hawthorn thicket or myrtle grove. I see
plainly I might as well carry my dcjt old Evelyn — fragrant
with mint and marjoram — back up-stairs, and wrap it up in
ancient camphor-scented linen — and put it away tenderly to
sleep its last sleep in the venerable cedar chest, where rest my
Grandfather's huge knee-buckles — and my great grandmother's
yellow brocaded silk-dress — with its waist the length of my
little finger, and the sleeves as wide as a balloon. Gentlemen
permit me one parting paragraph, before I write ' finis ' on this
matter of education, and ' hereafter forever hold my peace.' Be
it distinctly understood, ' by these presents ' that if that child
Regina grows up ablue-stocking, or a metempsychosist, a scientist
or a freedom-shrieker, — a professor of physics, or a practitioner
of physic, — ^judge of a court or mayor of a city, biologist, sociolo-
gist, heathen or heretic, — -it will be no work or wish of mine ; —
for to each and all oi these threatened, and progressive abomina-
tions — I — Elise Lindsay, — do hold up clean hands, and cry
avaunt ! "

■ Mum'-'Sv

ISO

INFSLICE,

'* I thought my sitter had long since learned, that borrowing
trouble, neoossitated the payment of usurious interest ) Just
now, our little girl carries no gorgon's head ; let her alone.
The most imperatively demanded change in our system of fe-
male training, is the addition of a few years in which to work.
Amevican girls are turned out upon society, when they should
be beginning their apprenticeship under their mothers' eyes, —
in all household arts and sciences ; — and they are wives aud
mothers before they are able physically, mentally or morally .to
appreciate the sacred solemn responsibilities that inhere in such
positions. If our girls pursued methodically all the branches
uf a liberal and classical education, including domestic economy,
until they were at least twenty, how much misery would be
averted ; how many more really elegant interesting women
would be added to the charm of society, — usefulness to country,
happiness and sanctity of home 1 Had I means to bestow in
such enterprises, I should like to endow some institution, and
stipulate for a chair of household arts-and-sciences-and-home-
duties ; and Regina should not go into general society until
she had graduated therein."

" Not another word of conspiracy against my little maid's
peace 1 Lean forward a little, Peyton, and look at her yonder,
coming along the rose-walk. See how the pigeons follow her.
She has been gathering raspberries, aud I promised she should
make all she could pick, into jelly for poor old Tobitha Meggs.
How pure and fair she looks in her white dress 1 Dear little
thing ! Sometimes I am wicked enough t« wish she had no
mother, for then she would be wholly ours, and we could keep
her always. Listen — she is singing Schubert's ' Ave MariaJ "

After a moment's silence Mrs. Lindsay rose, and passing her
arm, around her son's neck, leaned her cheek against his head,
as he sat near his uncle, and looking through the open door at
the slowly approaching figure.

'* Bishop, if I were an artist, I would pamt her as a Priestess
at Ephesus,^-chanting a hymn to Diana ; and instead of Hero
and the pigeons, place brown deer and spotted fawns on mossy
banks in tiie background."

'* Pooh ! What a hopeless pagan you are, Elise % If I were
a sculptor I would chisel a statue of Purity, and give it her
counteuaiice."

And Mr. Lindsay smiled in his mother's face, and said only
for her ear :

" Do not her eves entitle iiur to be called Glanlfopis ? "

INFEUOE,

121

CHAPTER IX

|HE long sultry August day was drawing to a dose, and
those who had found the intense heat almost unendur-
able, watched with delight the slow hands of the clock,
whose lagging fingers finally pointed to five. The sky
seemed brass, the atmosphere a blast from Tophet, and
the sun still standing at some distance above the horizon,
glared mercilessly down over the panting parched earth, as if a
recent and unusually copious shower of " meteoric cosmical
matter " had fallen into the solar furnace, and prompted it by
increased incandescence to hotly deny the truth of Helmholtz's
assertion : " The inexorable laws of mechanics show that the
store of heat in the sun must be finally exhausted." Certainly
to those who had fanned themselves through the tedious torture
long remembered as the " hot Sunday," the science-predicted
period of returning glaciers and polar snows where palms and
lemons now hold sway, seemed even more distant, than the
epoch suggested by the speculative. In proportion to the ele-
vation of we mercurial vein, which mounted to and poised it-
self at 100, — the religious, the devotional pulse sank lower, al-
most to zero ; consequently although circumstances of unusual
interest attracted the congregation to the church, where Mr.
Lindsay intended to preach his farewell sermon, — only a limited
number had braved the heat to shake hands with the young
minister, who ere another sunrise would have started on his long
journey to the pagan East.

At the parsonage it had been a sad day, sad despite the grave
serenity of Mr. Hargrove, the quiet fortitude of Mr. Lindsay,
and the desperate attempts of the mother to drive back tears,
compose fluttering lips, and steady the tones of her usually
cheerful voice. For several days previous, Mr. Hargrove had
been quite indisposed, and as his nephew would leave home
at eleven P. M., the customary Sunday night service had been
omitted.

As the afternoon wore away, the family trio assembled on the
shaded end of the north verandah, and with intuitive delicacy,
Regina shrank from intruding on the final interview which
appeared so sacred. .

122

INFSLICE.

Followed bv Hero, she went through the shrubbery, and
down a walk boixlered with ancient cedars, which led to a small
gate, that onened into the adjoining churchyard.

In accordance with a custom long since fallen hopelessly
into desuetude, but prevailing when the venerable church was
erected, it had been placed in the centre of a spacious square,
every yard of which had subsequently become hallowed as the
last resting-place of families who had passed away, since the
lofby sp*^e rose like a huge golden finger pointing heavenward.
An avenue of noble elms led from the iron gate to the broad
stone steps, — and on either side and behind the church swelled
the lines of mounds, some white with marble, some green with
turf, now and then a heap of mossy shells, — not a few gay with
flowers; — all scrupulously free from weeds, and those most
melancholy symptoms of neglect, which even in public cemeteries
too often impress the beholder with gloomy premonitions of
hifl own inevitable future, and recall the solemn admonition of
tiie Talmud : " Life is a passing shadow. Is it the shadow of
a tower, or of a tree 1 A shadow that prevails for a while !
No, it is the shadow of a bird in his flight, — away flies the bird,
and there remains neither bird nor shadow."

Has the profoundly religious sentiment of reverence for the
domains of death, lost or gained by the modern practice of
municipal monopoly of the right of sepulture 9 Who amid
the pomp and splendour of Greenwood, or Mount Auburn,
where human vanity builds its own proud monument in the
mausoleums of the Dead, — who in hurrying along the broad
and beautiful avenues thronged with noisy groups of chattering
pedestrians, and with gay equipages that render the name
"City ofsOence" a misnomer, — converting it into a quasi Festa
ground, — a scene for subdued Sunday FUe Champhre, — who,
passing from these magnificent City Cemeteries — into some

primitive old-fashioned churchyard, such as that of V , has

not suddenly been almost overpowered by the contrast pre-
sented ; — the deep brooding solemnity, the holy hush, the per-
vading indwelling atmosphere of true sanctity that distinguishes
tiie latter 1

Could any other than the simple ancient churchyard of by-
gone days, have suggested thai sweetest, purest, noblest, Elegy
m our mother tongue 1 Do not our hearts yearn with an in-
tense and tender longing toward that church, at whose font we
were baptised, at whose communion table we reverently

iNFEUOB.

123

bowed, — ^before whose altar we breathed the marriage-vowi,—
fiom whose silent ohanoel we shall one day be softly and slowly
borne away to our last long sleep 1 Why not lay us down to
rest, where the organ that pealed at our wedding, and sobbed
its Tt^quiem over our senseless olay, — may still breathe its loving
dirges acroRs our graves, in winter's leaden storms, or in fra-
grant amber-aired summer daysl Would worldly vampires —
such as political or financial schemes, track a man's footsteps
down the aisle, and flap thtir fatal numbing' pinions over his
soul so securely even in the Sanctuary of the Lord, — if from
his family pew his eyes wandered now and then to the marble
slab that lay like a benediction over the silver head of an
honoured father or mother, or the silent form of a beloved wife,
sister or brother 1

Is there a woman so callous, so steeped in folly, that thie
tinsel of Vanity Fair, — the paraphernalia of fashion, or all the
thousand small fiends that beleaguer the female soul, could
successfully lure her imagination from holy themes,— when —
sitting in front of the pulpit, she yet sees through the open
windows where butterflies like happy souls, flutter in and out, —
the motionless chiselled cenotaph that rests like a sentinel above
the pulseless heart that once enshrined her image, called her
wife, — and beat in changeless devotion against her own ; — or
the little grassy billow sown thick with violets that speak to her
of the blue eyes beneath them, — where in dreamless slumber
that needs no mother's cradling arms, no maternal lullabv, —
reposes the waxen form, the darling golden head of her long
lost baby % What spot so peculiarly suited for " God's Acre"
— as that surrounding God'p Temple )

A residence of nearly four years' duration at the Parsonage,
had rendered this quiet churchyard a favourite retreat with
Kegina, and divesting the graves of all superstitious terrors, had
awakened in her nature only a most profound and loving rev-
erence for the precincts of the Dead.

To-day longing for some secluded spot in which to indulge
the melr.ncholy feelings that oppressed her, she instinctively
sought the church, yielding unconscious homage to its hallowed
and soothing influence. Passing slowly and carefully among
the head-stones, she went into the church to which she had ac-
cess at all times by a key, which enabled her to enter at will
and practise on the small organ that was generally used in
Sabbath-school music.

■;r5*^

124

INFELICE.

Fancying that it might be cooler in the gallery, she ascended
to the organ loft, and while Hero stretched himself at her feet,
she sat down on one of the benches close to the open window
that looked toward the mass of trees which so completely em-
bowered the parsonage, that only one ivy-crowned chimney was
visible. Low in the sky, and just opposite the tall arched win-
dow behind the pulpit, the sun burned like a baneful Cyclopean
eye, striking through a mass of ruby tinted glass that had been
designed to represent a lion, and other symbols of the Eedeemer,
who soared away above them.

Arcr .there certain subtle electrical currents sheathed in human
flesh, l^at link us sometimes with the agitated reservoirs of
electricity trembling in the bosom of yet distant clouds % Do
not our own highly charged nervous batteries occasionally give
the first premonition of coming thunder-storms % Long before
the low angry growl that came suddenly from some lightning
lair in thid far south, below the sky-line, Begina anticipated the
approaching war of elements, and settled herself to wait for it.

Not until to-day had she realized how much of the pleasure of
her life, at the parsonage, was derived trom the sunny presence
aud sympathizing companionship, which she was now about to
lose, certainly for many years, probably forever.

Although Mr. Lindsay's age doubled her own, he had entered
so fully into her fancies, humoured so patiently her girlish ca-
prices, and with such tireless interest aided her in her studies,
that she seemed to forget his seniority ; and treated him with
the quiet affectionate freedom which she would have indulged
toward a young brother. Next to the memory of her mother,
she probably gave him the warmest place in her heart, but she
was a remarkably reserved, composed and undemonstrative
child, by no means addicted to caresses, — and only in moments
of deep feeling betrayed iuto an impulsive passionate gesture,
or a burst of emotion.

Sincerely attached to the entire household, who had won not
merely her earnest gratitude, but profound respect and admira-
tion, she was conscious of a peculiar clinging tenderness for Mr.
Lindsay, which rendered the prospect of his departure! the
keenest trial that had hitherto overtaken her ; and when she
thought of the immense distance that must soon divide them,
the laborious nature of the engagement that would detain him
perhaps a life-time in the far East, her own dim uncertain
future looked dark and dieary. The blazing sun went down at

INFELICE.

125

last, — the fiery radiance of the' pulpit window faded, and the
birds that frequented the quiet sheltered enclosure sought their
perches in the thickest foliage where they were wont to sleep.
But there was no abatement of the heat. The air was sulphur^
ous, and its inspiration was about as refreshing as a draught from
Phlegethon ; while the distant occasional growl had grown into a
frequent thunderous muttering, that deepened with eyery re-
petition and already began to shake the windows in its rever-
berations. Two ladies in deep mourning, who had been hover-*
ing like black spectres around a granite sarcophagus, where they
deposited and arranged the customary Sabbath arkja of white
flowers, — concluded their loving tribute to the sleeper, and left
the churchyard ; and save the continual challenge of the
thunder drawinier *^earer, the perfect stillness ominous and
dread, which alv precedes a violent storm, seemed brooding
in fearful augury above the home of the Dead.

With one foot resting on Hero's neck, Begina sat leaning
against the window facing, very pale, but bravely fighting this
her first great battle with sorrow. Her face was eloquent with
mute suffering, and her eyes were full of shadows that left no
room for tears.

" Going away to India, perhaps forever ! " was the burden of
this woe that blanched even her lovely coral lips until their
curves were lost in the pallor of her rounded cheek and dimpled
chin. " Going away to India ; " like some fateful rune presaging
dire disaster, it seemed traced in characters of flame across the
glowing s]!£y, and over the stony monuments that studded the
necropolis.

Suddenly Hero lifted his head, sniffed the air, and rose, and
almost simultaneously Begina heard the sound of footsteps on
the gravel outside-^and the low utterances of a voice which she
recognised as Hannah's.

"I never told you before, because I was afraid that in the
end, you would cheat me out of my share of the profit. But
I have watched and waited, and bided my time as long as I In-
tend to, and I am too old to work as I have done."

** It seems to me a queer thing you have hid it so long
— so many years, when you might have turned it into gold.
The old General ought to pay well for the paper. Let's see
it."

The response was in a man's voice, harsh and discordant,
and leaning slightly forword, Begina saw the old servant irom

}""

126

tNFELICS.

the Parsonage, standing immediately beneath the window, fan-
ning herself with her white apron, and earnestly conversing in
subdued tones with a middle-aged man, whose flushed and
rather bloated face, still retained traces of having once been,
though in a coarse style — handsome. In length of limb, and
compact muscular development he appeared an athlete a veiy
son of Anak : but habitual dissipation had set its brutalizing
stamp upon his countenance, and the expression of the inflamed
eyes and sensuous mouth was sinister and forbidding, as if a
career of vice had left the stalu of irremediable ruin on his swarthy
face.

As he concluded his remark and stretched out his band,
Hannah laughed scornfully.

" Do you take me for a fool ? Who else would travel around

with a match and a loaded fuse in the same pocket % I haven't

it with me ; it is too valuable to be carried about. The care

of that scrap of paper has tormented me all these years,

worse than the tomb devils did the swine that ran down into the

sea to cool off; and if I have changed its hiding place once

I have twenty times. If the old Greneral doesn't pay well for

it, I shall gnaw off my fingers on account of the sin it has cost

me. I was an honest woman and could have faced the world,

until that night — so many years ago ; — and since then, I have

carried a load on my soul that makes me — even Hannah Hinton

— who never flinched before man or woman or beast — ^a coward,

a quaking coward ! Sin stabs courage — lets it ooze out, as a

knife does blood. Don^ bully me— Peleg ! I won't bear it.

Jeer me if you dare." i^

" ^ ever fear Aunt Hannah. I have no mind to do theatre
on a fimall scale, and show you Satan reproving sin. After all,
what is your bit oi petit larceny, your thin slice of theft, in com-
parison with my black work ? But really I don't in the least
begrudge my sins, if only I might have my revenge — if I could
oriy get Minnie in my power."

*' Bah ! 'don't sicken me with any more of the Minnie dose !
I hate the name as I do small-pox or cholera. A pretty life
you have led dancing after her, as an outright fool might after
the pewter-bells on a baby's rattle ! "

" You women can't understand how a man feels when his
love changes to h ate ; and yet you ought to know all about it,
for when you do turn upon one another, you never let go.
Aunt Hannah I loved her better than everything else upon the

INFELICE.

127

fan-
in

EUld

een,

broad earth — I would have kissed the dust where she walked —
I always loved her — and she was fond of me, until that college
dandy came between us — and made a fool of her — a villain of
me. When she forsook me, and followed him off— I swore I
would be revenged. There is tiger blood in me, and when I am
thoroughly stirred up, I never cool. It is a long, long time since
I lost her trail — soon after the child was born, and eight years
ago I almost ^ave up, and went to Cuba ; but if I can only find
the track, I will follow it till I hunt her down. I never re-
ceived your letters or I would have hurried back. Where is
Minnie now 1 "

''That is more than I know, but I think somewhere in
Europe. The letters are always sent to a lawyer in New York,
who directs them to her. I have tried in every way to find
out, but they are all too smart for me."

" Why don't you pump the child % "

" Haven't I f And gained about as much ad if I had put a
handle on the side of a lump of cast iron and pumped. She
is closer than sealing-wax, and shrewder than t» serpent. If
you pumped her till the stars fell, you would not get an air
bubble. She can neither be scared nor coaxed.'*

" Where is the paper 1 "

" Safely buried here among the dead."

" What folly ! Don't you know the dampness will destroy
it 1 Pshaw ! you have ruined everything."

** See here, Peleg, — all the brains of the family did not lodge

in your skull ; and I guess I was wiser at your age than you

^wiU be at mine. The paper was safe and sound when I looked

at it a month ago, and it is wrapped up in oil-silk, then in

cotton, and kept in a thick tin box."

" When can I see it ? Suppose you get it now 1 "

" In daylight 1 You may depend on my steering clear of
detection, — no matter what comes. I would take it up to-
night, but there is going to be an awful storm. Do you hear
how the thunder keeps bellowing down yonder, under that
dark line crossing the South 1 There will be wild work pretty
soon ; it has beien simmering all day, and when it begins, it
won't be child's play. Even the marble slabs on the graves
are hot, and the ground scorched my feet, as if Satan and his
fires had burnt through all but a thin crust. I never was afraid
of the Devil until my sin brought me close to him. I want to
finish this business, and before day to-morrow I will come over

128

INFELICB.

here and dig up my box. There will be dim moonlight by
three o'clock, and if it should be cloudy I can shut my eyes
and find the place. I tell you, Peleg, I am sick and tired of
this dirty work ; and sometimes I think I am no better than a
hyena prowling among dead men's bones. Come around to
the cow-shed in the morning, about seven o'clock, when the
.family will be in the library, holding prayers ; and when I go
to milk I will bring you the paper. Only to look at, to read
over, mind you ! It doesn't leave my hands until the General's
gold jingles in my pocket. Then he is welcome to it, and Min-
nie may suffer the consequences ; — and you and I will divide
the profits. I want to go away and rest with my sister Pene-
lope the remainder of my life, and though the family here beg
me to stay, I have already given notice that I intend to stop
work next month."

" Very well, don't fail me ; I am as anxious to close up the
job as you . possibly can be. I should like to see the child,
Minnie's child — but I might spoil everything if she looks like
heir mother. Good-bye till to-morrow."

The two walked away, one passing down the avenue of
elms, out into the street. The other sauntered in the direc-
tion of the parsonage, but ere she reached the small gate, Han
nah turned aside to a low iron railing that enclosed two monu-
ments ; a marble angel with expanded wings standing above a
child's grave, — and a broken column wreathed with sculptured
ivy, placed on a mound covered with grass. Just behind the
former, and close to the railing, rose a noble Lombardy poplar
that towered even above the elms, and at its base a mass of
periwinkle and ground ivy ran hither and thither in luxurianlf
confusion, clasping a few ambitious tendrils even about the
ancient trunk.

Over the railing leaned Hannah, peering down for several
moments, at the lush green creepers, — then she walked on to
the Parsonage gate, and disappeared.

Watching her movements, Regina readily surmised that some-
where near that tree, the paper was secreted ; and she was pain-
fully puzzled to unravel the thread that evidently linked her
with the mystery.

" I am the child she spoke of, — and she has tried again and
again to ' pump ' me, as she called it. * Minnie ' must mean
my mother, — but that is not her name. Odille Orphia Orme
never could be twisted into * Minnie ' — and that coarse, com-

■gr'

sxes

INFELICE.

129

In
le

mon, low, wicked man never could have dared to love my own
dear, beautiful, proud mother ! There must be some dreadful
mistake. Somebody is wrong, but not mother ; no, no — never
my mother 1 Once she wrote that she was forced to keep some
things secret, because she had bitter enemies ; and this man
must bej one of then), for he said he would hunt her down.
But he jfthall not ! Was it Providence that brought them h«re
to tall^ over their wicked schemes, where I could hear them)
Oh ! ii I only knew all ! Mother, mother ! you might trust
youi^child ! I can't believe that I am ignorant even of my
mother's name. Surely she never was that red-faced man's
'Minnie!'"

Covering her face with her hands, she shuddered at the familiar
mention by profane lips, of one, so hallowed in her estimation,
and this vague threatening of danger to her mother, sufficed for
a time to divert her thoughts from the sorrow, that for some
days past had engrossed her n^ind.

Knowing the affection and confidence with which Hannah
had always been treated by the members of the family, and the
great length of time she had so faithfully served in the Parson-
age household, Eegina was shocked at the discovery of her
complicity in a scheme, which she admitted had made her dis-
honest. Only two days before, she had heard Mrs. Lindsay
lamenting that misfortunes never came single, for as if Doug-
lass' departure were not disaster enough for one year, Hannt^
must even imagine that she felt symptoms of dropsy and desired
to go away somewhere in Iowa or Minnesota, where she could
rest, and be nursed by her relatives.

This announcement heightened the gloom that already im-
pended, and various attempts had been made by Mr. Hargrove
and his sister to induce Hannah to reconsider her resolution.
But she obstinately maintained that she was '' a worn-out old
horse, who ought to be turned out to pasture in peace, the rest
of her days ; " yet notwithstanding her persistency, she evinced
much distress at her approaching separation from the family,
and never alluded to it without a flood of tears.

What would the members of the household think, when they
discovered how mistaken all had been in her real character 1 But
had she a right to betray Hannah to her employer *) Perhaps
the paper had no connection with the Parsonage, and no matter
whom else she might have wronged, Hannah had faithfully
jterved the pastor, and repaid his kindness by devotion to his

130

INFELICB.

domestic interests. Berina's nature was generous as well as
just, and she felt erateful to Hannah for many small favours
bestowed on herseuf, for a uniform willingness to oblige or as-
sist her, as only servants have it in their power to do.

Sweetening reminiscences of caramels and crullers, of paren-
thetic patty pancakes not ordered or expected on the Parscnage
bill of fare, pleaded pathetically for Hannah, and were ably
supported by recollections of torn dresses deftly darned — of
unseasonably and unreasonably soiled white aprons, which the
same skilful hands had surreptitiously washed and fluted before
the regular day for commencmg the laundry work — all of which
now made clamorous and desperate demands on the girl's grati-
tude and leniency. So complete had been her trust in Hannah,
that her reticence concerning her mother, sprang solely from
Mr. Hargrove's earnest injunction that she would permit no
one to question her upon the subject ; consequently she had
very tenderly intimated to the old woman, that she was not at
liberty to discuss that matter with any one.

" She is going away very soon, bearing a good character.
Would it be right for me to disgrace her in her old age, by tell-
ing Mr. Hargrove what I accidentally overheard I if I only knew
* Minnie ' meant mother, I could be sure this paper did not re-
fer to Mr. Hargrove, and then I should see my way clearly ; for
they both said ' old General,' and no one calls Mr. or Dr. Har-
grove * General.' I only want to do what is right."

As she lifted her face from her hands, she was surprised at
the sudden gloom that, since she last looked out, had settled
like a pall over the sky, darkening the church, rendering even
the monuments indistinct.

Hero began to whine and bark, and starting from her seat,
Begina hurried toward the steps leading down from the organ-
loft. Ere she reached them a fearful sound like the roaring of
a vast flood broke the prophetic silence — then a blinding lurid
flash seemed to wrap everything in flame ; there was simultane-
ously an awful detonating crash, as if the pillars of the universe
had given way — and the initial note ushered in the thunder-
fugue of the tempest, that raged as if the Destroying Angel rode
upon its blast.

In the height of its fury, it bowed the ancient elms as if they
were mere reeds, and shook the sto-ie cliurch to its foundations,
as a giant shakes a child's toy.
Frightened by the trembling of the building, Eegina began

-^.

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INFBLICB.

131

to descend the stairs, guided by the incessant flashes of light
ning, but when about half-way down, a terrific peal of thunder
so §tartled her, that she missed a step, grasped at the balus-
trade but failed to find it, and rolled helplessly to the floor of
the vestibule. Stunned and mute with terror, she attempted
to rise, but her left foot crushed under her in the fall, refused
to serve her, and with a desperate instinct of faith, she crawled
through the inside door and down the aisle, seeking refuge at
the altar of God. Dragging the useless member, she reached
the chancel at last, and as the lightning showed her the railing,
she laid herself down, and clasped the mahogany balusters in
both hands.

In the ghastly electric light, she saw the wild eyes of the lion
in the pulpit window glaring at her — but over all, the holy
smile of Christ, as looking down in benediction, He soared
away heavenward ; and above the howling of the hurricane,
rose her cry to Him — who stilleth tempests— and saith to wind
and sea — " Peace ! be still : "

" Oh, Jesus ! save me — that I may see my mother once
more!"

She imagined there was a lull, certainly the shrieking of the
gale seemed to subside — but only for half a moment, and in the
doubly fierce renewal of elemental strife — amid deafening peals
of thunder, and the unearthly glare that preceded each rever-
beration, there came other sounds more appalling, and as the
church rocked and quivered, some portion of the ancient edi-
fice fell, adding its crash to the diapason of the storm.

Believing that the roof was falling upon her, Eegina shut her
eyes, and in after years she recalled vividly two sensations that
seemed her last on earth ; one, the warm touch of Hero's
tongue on her clenched fingers — the other, a supernatural
wail chat came down from the gallery, and that even then, she
knew was born in the organ. Was it the weird fingering of
the sacrilegious cyclone that concentrated its rage upon the
venerable sanctuary 1

After a little while, the fury of the wind spent itself, but the
rain began to fall heavily, and the electricity drama continued
with unabated vigour and fierceness.

Although unusually brave, for so young a person, B^na
nad been completely terrified, and she lay dumb and mo<
tionless, still clinging to the altar railing. At last, when
the wind left the war to the thunder and the rain, Hero,

i:?-.

132

INFELICB.

who had been quiet until now, began to bark violently, left
her side, and ran to and fro, now and then uttering a pecu-
liar sound, which with him always indicated delight. His
subtle instinct was stronger than her hope, and as she raised
herself into a sitting posture, she saw that he had sprung upon
the top of one of the side aisle pews, and thence into the win-
dow, which had been left open by the sexton.

Here he lingered as if irresolute, and in an agony of dread
at the thought of being deserted, she cried out :

" Here Hero ! Come back ! Hero don't leave me to die
alone."

He whined in answer, and barked furiously as if to reassure
her j then the whole church was illuminated with a lurid glory
that seemed to scorch the eyeballs with its intolerable radiance,
and in it she saw the white figure of the dog plunge into the
blackness beyond.

She knew the worst was over, unless the lightning killed
her, for the wind had ceased, and the Walls were still standing rj
but the atmosphere was thick with dust, and redolent of lime,
and she conjectured that the plastering in the gallery had
fallen, though the tremendous crash portended something more
serious. She tried to stand up, by steadying herself against
the balustrade, but the foot refused to sustain her weight, and
she sank back into her former crouching posture, "feeling very
desolate, but tearless and quiet as one of the apostolic figures
that looked pityingly upon her whenever the lightning smote
through them.

She turned her head, so that at every flash she could gaze
upon the plScid face of the beautiful Christ floating abo^e the
pulpit ; and in the intense intervening darkness tried to possess
her soul in patience, — thinking of the mercy of God, — and the
love of her mother.

She knew not how long Hero had left her, for pain and
terror are not accurate chronometers, — but after what appeared
a weary season of waiting, she started when his loud bark
sounded under the window, through which he had effected his
exit. She tried to call him, but her throat was dry and ^parched,
and her foot throbbed and ached so painfully, that she dreaded
making any movement. Then a voice always pleasant to her
ears ; but sweeter now than an archangel's, shouted above the
steady roar of the rain :

** Regina I Regina ! "

■rvsssn

IHFEUCE,

133
of

Sh« rose to her knees, and with a desperate exertion
lungs and throat, answered :

" I am here ! Mr. Ldndsay — . .m htjre ! "

Keinemhering that words ending in o — were more readily
distinguished at a distance, she added :

" Hero ! oh Hero 1 "

His frantic barking told her that she had been heard, and then
througj;^ the window came once more the music of the loved
voice.

"Be patient. I am coming."

She could not understand why he did not come through the
door, instead of standing beneath the window, and it seemed
stranger still, that after a little while all grew silent again.
But her confidence never wavered, and in the darkness she
knelt there patiently, knowing that he would not forsake her.

It seemed a very long time before Hero's bark greeted her
once moie, and turning toward the window, a lingering zigzag
flash of lightning showed her Douglass Lindsay's lace, as he
climbed in, followed by the dog.

" Eegina ! where are you % "

"Oh here I am!"

He stood on one of the seats, swinging a lantern in his hand,
and as she spoke he sprang toward her.

Still clutching the altar railing with one hand, she knelt,
with her white suffering face upturned piteously to him, — and
stooping he threw his arms around her and clasped her to his
heart.

" My darling — God has been merciful to you and me ! "

She stole one arm up about his neck, and clung to him,
while for the first time he kissed her cheek and brow.

" Does my 4arling know what an awful risk she ran ? - The
steeple has fallen, and the whole front of the church is blocked
up, — a mass of ruins. I could not get in, and feared you were
crushed, until I heard Hero bark from the inside, and followed
the sound which brought me to the window, whence he jumped
out to meet me. At last when you answered my call, I was
obliged to go back for a ladder. Here darlinj^, at God's altar
let us thank Him for your preservation.'

He bowed his face upon her head, and she heard the whis-
pered thanksgiving that ascended to the throne of grace, but
no words were audible. Rising he attempted to lift her, but
she winced and moaned, involuntarily sinking back.

" What is the matter ? After all, were you hurt % "

:MaM

134

INFEUOE,

" When I eame down from the gallery, it turned do dark 1
was frightened, and I s'^umbled and fell down the steps. I
must have broken something, for when I stand up my ankle
gives way, and I can't walk at all."

" Then how did you get here ) The steps are at the front
of the church."

'' I thought the altar was the safest place, and I crawled here
on my hands and knees." ^

He pressed her head against his shoulder, and his deep manly
voice trembled.

" Thank God for the thought. It was your salvation, for the
stairs and the spot where you must have fallen, are a heap of
stone, brick and mortar. If you had remained there, you would
certainly have been killed."

" Yes, it was just after I got here and caught hold of the
railing, that the crash came. Oh ! is it not awful ! "

" It was an almost miraculous escape, for which you ought
to thank and serve your God — all the days of the life He has
mercifully spared to you. Stand up a minute, even if it pains
you, and let me find out what ails your foot. I know something
of surgery, for once it was my intention to study medicine, in
stead of divinity."

He unbuttoned and removed her shoe, and as he firmly
pressed the foot and ankle, she flinched and sighed.

" I think there are no bones broken, but probably you have
wrenched and sprained tho ankle, for it is much swollen already.
Now little girl, 1 must go back for some assistance. You will
have to be taken out through the window, and I am afraid to
attempt carrying you down the ladder unaided, and in the
darkness. I might break your neck, instead of your ankle."

" Oh please don't leave me here ! "

She stretched out her arms pleadingly, and tears sprang to
his eyes as he noted the pallcr of her beautiful face, and the
nervous fluiitering of her white lips.

" I shall leave Hero and the lantern with you, and you may
be sure I shall be gone the shortest possible time. The dan-
ger is over now, even the lightning is comparatively distant,
and you Who have been so brave all the while, certainly will
not prove a eoward at the last moment 1 "

He took her up as easily as if she had been an infant, and
laid her tenderly down on one of the pew cushions ; — then
placed the lantern on the pulpit desk, and came back.

l^^I WM

" Slip your hand under . lo's coli r, to y 7«at hit fnmi
following me if he should try to do ho, ^> ||»ep i u yottr
courage. Put yourself in God's hands, and ^ . {lere f »iiently
for Douglass. Don't you know that I w<h not W ,ye you
here an instant, if it could be avoided ? Gt^i M^as ^ mj — my
white dove."

He stooped and kissed her forehead, ^en hurried away, and
after a moment Regina knew that she and her dog were once
more alone in the ancient church, — with none nearer than the
Dead, who slept so soundly, while the soft summer rain fell
ceaselessly above their coffins.

CHAPTER X.

|HE town clock was striking nine, when the renewal of
welcome sounds beneath the window announced to Re-
gina that her weary dark vigil was ended. Soon after
Mr. Lindsay's departure, the lantern above the altar grew
dim, then went out, leaving the church in total darkness,
relieved only by an occasional glimmer from the elec^c bat-
teries, that had wheeled far away to the north-east. Erect and
alert Hero sat beside his mistress, now and then rubbing his
head against her shoulder, or placing his paw on her arm, as if
to encourage her by mute assurances of faithful guardianship ;
and even when the voices outside cheered him into one quick
bark of recognition, he made no effort to leave the prostrate
form.

" All in the dark ? Where is your lantern 1 " asked Mr.
Lindsay, as he climbed thro",'*V the window.

" It went out very soon after you left. Can you find me —
or shall I try to come to you 1 "

'' Keep still Regina. Come up the ladder Esau, and hold
your torch so that I can see. It is black as Egypt inside."

In a few moments the ruddy glare streamed in, and showed
the anxious face of the sexton, and the figure of Mr. Lindsay
groping from pew to pew. Before that cheerful red light, how
swiftly the trooping spectres and grim phantoms that had peo-

136

INFELJCE,

pled the gloom, fled away forever ! What a bleued comforting
atmosphere of love and protection seemed to encompass her,
when after handing one of the pew cushions to the sexton, Mr.
Lindsay came to the spot where she lay.

" How are your wounds 1 "

" My foot is very stiff and sore, but if yoa will let me hold
your arm, I can hop along."

" Can you — my crippled snow-bird f Suppose I have a dif-
ferent use for my strong arms 1"

He lifted her very gently, but apparently without effort, and
carried her to the window.

" Go down, Esau, set the torch in the ground, and hold the
ladder — press it hard against the wall. lam coming down
backward — and if I should miss a round, you must be ready to
help me. Come Hero, jump out first, and clear the way.
Steady now, Esau."

Placing his charge on the broad sill, Mr. Lindsay stepped out,
established himself securely on the ladder, and drawing the girl
to the ledge, took her firmly in his arms, balancing himself with
some difficulty, as he did so.

" Now say your prayers. Clasp your hands tight around my
neck, and shut your eyes."

His ohin rested upon her forehead, as she olung closely about
his neck, aud they commenced the perilous descent.

Once he wavered, almost tottered, but recovered himself,
and from the fierce beating of his heart, and the laboured sound
of his deep breathing she knew that it cost him great physical
exertion ; but at last his close strain relaxed — he reached the
ground safely and stood resting a moment, while a sigh of re-
lief escaped him.

" Esau put the end of the torch sideways in Hero's mouth —
mind — so that it will not bum him ; and lay the cushion on the
plank. No ! — that is wrong. Turn the torch the other way,
so that as he walks, the wind will blow the flame in the oppo-
site direction — away from his face. Take it Hero ! That's a
uoble fellow I Now home Hero."

When the cushion had been adjusted on the broad plank
brought for the purpose, Mr. Lindsay laid Regina upon it,
threw a blanket over her, aud bidding the sexton take one
end of the plank, he lifted the other, and they began the march.

" Not that way Ht ; », tlthough it is the nearest. Truly the
' longest way round, is tiie shortest way' home, this time \ for

. .. i

■•T'.^TIf

INFMLJOM.

157

ir.

)ld

we could not twist about among the gravet, and muit go down
the avenue, though it is somewhat obstructed by fallen bought.
Come here Hero and walk ahead of us. Now Regina vou can
shut your eyes and imagine you are riding in a palankeen, at
the Ili^'dustanee ladies do, when they go out for fresh air.
The motion is exactly the same, as you will find some day,
when you come to Rohilcund or Oude, to see Padre-Sahib~-
Lindsay. You shall then have a new doolej all curtained close
with rose-coloured silk — but I can't promise that the riding
will prove any more easy than this cushioned plank."

\Vnat a stab seemed each word, bringing back all the bitter
suffering his departure would cause — and reviving the grief,
from which the storm had temporarily diverted her thoughts.

" You are not going to-night 1 You will not try to start)
after that dreadful storm )" sne said, in an unsteady vr' j.

" Yes, I am obliged to go, in order to keep an appomtment
for to-morrow night — in New York ; otherwise I would wait
a day, to learn the extent of the damage, for I am afraid the
hurricane has made sad havoc. Esau tells me the roof and a
portion of the market house was carried away, and it was the
most violent gale I have ever known."

They had reached the street and were approaching the gate
of the Parsonage, when Hero turned back, dropped the torch
at Mr. Lindsay's feet, and shook his head vigorously, rubbing
his nose with his paw.

" Poor fellow ! can't you stand it any longer) It must have
ocorched him as it burnt low. Brave fellow ! "

" Oh, Douglass ! is that you ) " cried an eager voice at some
distance.

" Yes, mother."

Mrs. Lindsay ran to meet them.

"Did you find her?"

" Yes, I am bringing her home."

" Bringing her — oh my God ! Is she dead 1 "

" No, she is safe."

" My son, don't try to deceive me. What is the matter 1
You are carrying something on a litter."

" Why do you not speak, Regina, and assure her of your
safety?"

Mrs. Lindsay had groped her way to the side of her son, and
]:iufi her finger on the figure stretclicd upon the cushion.

mmmm

! '

138

tNFBUOBi

**1 only sprained my foot badly^ and Mr. Lindsay was so
good as to bring me home this way."

" Have they got her 9 " shouted Hannah, who accompanied
by Mr. Hargrove had found it impossible to keep pace with
Mrs. Lindsay.

" Oh — it's a corpse you are fetching home ! " she added,
with a genuine wail, as in the gloom she dimly saw the outline
of several persons.

« Nobody is dead, but we need a Ught. Bun back and get
a candle."

Thankful that life had been spared, no more questions were
asked until they reached the house, and deposited their burden
on the lounge in the dining-room.

Then Mr. Lindsay briefly explained what had occurred, and
superintended the anointing and binding up of the bruised
ankle, now much swollen.

As Hannah knelt, holding the foot in her broad palm, to
enable Mrs. Lindsay to wrap it in a linen cloth saturated with
arnica, the iormer bent her gray head and tenderly kissed the
wounded member. She had been absent for a few minutes
during the recital of the accident, and now asked :

" Where were you, that you could not get home before the
storm % Heaven knows that cloud grumbled and gave warn-
ing long enough."

<* Hannah, she was in the church, and when she tried to get
out, it was too late."

" In the church ! — Why I was in the yard, trying to get a
breath of air, not twenty minutes before the cloud rolled up
like a mountain of ink, — and I saw nobody."

Regina understood her nervous start, and the eager question-
ing of her eyes.

" I was in the organ gallery, and falling down the steps, I
hurt myself."

" Honey — did you see me ? "

Her fingers closed so spasmodically over the girl's foot, that
she winced from the pressure.

" T saw you walking about the church-yard, and would have
come home with you, if I had thought the storm was so near.
Please, Hannah, bring me some cool water."

She pitied the old woman's evident confusion and anxiety,
and rejoiced when Mr. Hargrove changed the topic.

" I am very sorry, Douglass, that I cannot accompany you

IlfFBUOA

189

u far as New York. When I promised this afternoon to do
so, of course I did not anticipate this storm. There may
hare been lives lost, as well as steeples blown down, and it is
my duty not to leave my people at such a juncture. If it
were not for the sailing of the stpamer, I would insist on your
waiting a day or so, in order that I might go with you and
have a personal interview with Dr. Fitcairns. I ought to have
bought of, and attended to that matter before this."

*'Pray do not feel annoyed, Uuolc, it can be easily arranged
by letter. Moreover, as my mother goes with me to Boston,
it would not be right to leave Begina here alone, in her pre-
sent helpless condition."

" Do not think of me a moment, Mr. Hargrove. Go with
him and stayjnrith him, as long as you can ; I would if I could.
Hannah will take care of me."

** My dear, I think of my duty, and that keeps me at home.
Douglass, I will write a si ort note to Fitcairns, and you must
explain matters to him. Elise, it is ten o'clock, and you have
not much time."

He went into the library, and Mrs. Lindsay hurried up- stairs
to put on her bonnet, — calling Hannah to follow and receive
some parting injunctions. Kneeling by the lounge, Mr. Lind'
say took one of the girl's hands.

** Regina, I desired and intended to have a long talk with
you this afternoon, but could not find you ; and now I have no
time, except to say good-bye. You will never know how hard
it is for me to leave my dear little friend ; I did not realize it
myself until to-night. ' '

" Then why will you go away ? Can't you stay and serve
God as well by being a minister in this country % Can't you
change your mind % "

She raised herself on her elbow, and tears gushed over her
cheeks, as twining her fingers round his, she looked all
the intense loving appeal, that words could never have ox-
pressed.

Just then his stony Teraph — Duty, smiled very benignantly
at the aching heart he laid upon her dreary cold altar.

" Don't tempt me to look back after putting my hand to the
plough. I must do my duty, though at bitter cost. Will you
promise never to forget your friend Douglass ) "

** How could I ever forget you 1 Ob, if I could only go with

IW^SUl

^mm

INFELIOE.

I I

His fine eyes sparkled, and drawing her hand across hii
(tlieek, he said eagerly :

"Do you really wish it \ Think of me, — write to me, and
love me, and some day — if it please God to let me come home,
— you may have an opportunity of ^oing back with me to my
work in India. Would you be willing to leave all, and help
me among the heathens ? "

" All but mother. You come next to my mother. Ob,
it is hard that I must be separated from the two I love
best!"

For a moment she sobbed aloud.

" You are only a young girl now, but some day you will be
a woman, and I hope and believe a very noble woman. Until
then we shall be separated, but, when you are grown, I shall see
you again, if God spares my life. Peculiar and unfortunate
circumstances surround you \ there are trials ahead of you, my
darling, and I wish I could shield you from them, but it seems
impossible, and I can only leave you iu God's hands, praying
continually for you. You say you love me next to your mo-
ther 1 All I ask is, that you will allow na one else, — do new
friend to take my place. When I see you again, years hence,
I shall hope to hear you repeat those^words, — * next to my mo-
ther.' Far away in the midst of Hindustan, my thoughts and
hopes will travel back and centre in my white dove Oh, child I
my heart is bound to you forever."

He drew her head to his shoulder and held her close, aud as
in the church when kneeling before the altar, she heard, whis-
pers which only God interpreted.

Mrs. Lindsay came back equipped for her journey, and Mr.
Hargrove entered at the same moment, but neither spoke. At
length, fully aware of their presence, the young missionary
raised his head, and placing his hand under Regina's chin,
looked long at the spirituelle beautiful face, as J he wished to
photograph every feature on his memory. Without removing
his eyes, he said : ,

" Uncle, take care of her always. She is very dear to me.
Keep her just as she is, — in soul— •' unspotted from the
world.'"

Then his lips quivered, and in a tremulous voice he added v

" God bless you, my darling ! My pure holy dove."

He kissed her, rose instantly and left the room.

Mrs. Lindsay came to the lounge, and while the tears roUed
over her cheeks, she said tenderly :

i«

iNfMUOB.

Ill

hi«

my
help

" My dear child it seems unkind to desert yon in your crip-
pled condition, but I feel assured Peyton and Hannah will
nurse you faithfully ; and every moment that I can be with
Douglass seems doubly precious now."

« Do you think I would keep you, even if I could, from him 1
Oh ! don't you wish we were going with him to India % "

*' Indeed I do, from the depths of my soul. What shall we
do without our Bishop? "

Bending over the girl, the mother wept unrestrainedly, but
Mr. Hargrove called from the threshold :

«* Come Elise."

As Mrs. Lindsay turned to leave the room, she beckoned to
Ixunnah.

*' Carry her upstairs and undress her ; and if she suffers much
pain, don't fail to send for the Doctor."

A whito image of hopeless misery, Begina lay listening till
the sound of departing steps became inaudible, and when
Hannah lefb the room, the girl groaned aloud in the excess of
her grief: j^

"I did not even saygood-by — I did not once thank him for
all he did for me in the storm ! And now 1 know, I feel, I
shall never see him a^ain ! Oh. Douglass ! "

The glass-door leading into the flower-garden stood open, and
Mr. Lindsay who had been watching her from the cover of the
clustering honeysuckle, jitepped back into the room.

With a cry of delight, she held out her arms.

" Dear Mr. Lindsay — I shall thank you, and pray for you —
and love you as long as I live ! "

He put a small packet \v her hand, and whispered :

"Here is something ^ wisl yoi» to keep until you are eighteen.
Do not open it before <i\to tiuie unless I give you permission,
or unless you know that [ am dead."

He drew her tenderly to his heart, and his lips pressed her
cheek. Then he said brokenly :

" God ! be merciful in al) things to my darling ! "^

A moment after, she heard his rapid footsteps on the grav-
elled walk, followed by the clang of the gate ; then a great
loneliness as of death fell upon her.

There are indeed sorrows '' ths bruise the heart like ham-
and age it suddenly, — prematurely. In subsequent

mers

years Begina looked back to the iacid#nts of this eventful Sab<
bath, ana mwked it with a black stone in the calendar of mem«

WBIfJIH.'ilJJiJ ' jS

142

JNFSLIOB,

ory, as the day on which she ''put away childiah things,** and
began to see liUfe and the world through new, strange disenchant-
ing lenses, that dispelled all the gilding glamour of childhood,
and unexpectedly let in a gray dull light that chilled and awed
her.

With tearless but indescribably mournful eyes, she looked
vacantly at the door through which her friend had vanished,
— as it then seemed, forever, — and finding that her own re-
marks were entirely unheard, unheeded, Hannah touched her
shoulder.

" Poor thing ! Are you ready to let me carry you upstairs 1 '*

" Thank you, but I am not going upstairs to-night. I want
to stay here, because I am too heavy to be carried up and down,
and I can get about better from here. Bring a pUlow and some
bedclothes. I can sleep on this lounge."

" I shall be scolded if you don't go to bed."

" Let me alone Hannah. I intend to stay where I am. Bring
the things I need. Nobody shall scold you if you will only do
as I ask."

" Then I shall have to make a pallet on the floor, for Miss
Elise gave positive orders that I should sleep in your room until
she came back. Don't you mean to undress yourself ) "

'' No. Please unfasten my clothes and then leave them as
they are. You must not sleep on the floor. EoU in the hall
sofa, and it will make a nice bed."

There was no alternative, and when Mr. Hargrove returned
at midnight, he deemed it useless to reprimand or expostulate,
as Eegina declared herself very comfortable, and pleaded for
permission to remain until morning.

Looking very sad and careworn, the pastor stood for some
minutes leaning on his gold-headed cane. As he bade her good-
night and turned from the lounge, she put her hand on the cane.

" Please, Sir, lend me this until morning. Hannah sleeps
soundly, and if I am forced to wake her, I can easily do so by
tapping on the floor with your cane."

" Certainly dear ; keep it as long as you choose. But I am
afraid none of us will sleep much to-night It is a heavy trial
to give up Douglass. He is my younger, better self."

He walked slowly away, and she thought he looked more aged
and infirm, than she had ever seen him ; his usually erect head
drooping, as if bowed ^y deep sorrow.

For an hour after \a» departure, bis fpotsteps resounded in

tSPBUOg.

143

■\

the room overhead, as he paced to and fro, but when the distant
indistinct echo of the town clock told two, — all grew quiet up-
stairs.

In the dining-room the shaded lamp burned dimly, and
Begina could see the outline of Hannah's form on the sofa, and
knew from the continual turning first on one side, then on the
other, that the old woman was awake, though no sound escaped
her.

Engrossed by a profound yet silent grief that rendered sleep
impossible, Begina lay with her hands folded over the small
packet, wondering what it contained; — regretting that the
conditions of the gift prohibited her opening it for so many
long years, — and striving to divest herself of a haunting fore-
boding that she had looked for the last time on the bright
benignant countenance of the donor, who was indissolubly
linked with the happiest memories of her lonely life.

Imagination magnified the perils of the tedious voyage that
included two oceans, and as if to intensify and blacken, the
horrors of the future, all the fiendish tragedies of Delhi, Meerut,
and Gawnpore were vividly revived among the missionaries to
whom Mr. Lindsay was hastening. Deeply interested in the
condition of a p^^ople whose welfare was so dear to his heart,
she had eagerly read all the mission reports, and thus imbibed
a keen aversion to the Sepoys, who had become synonymous
with treachery and ingenious atrocity.

Is there an inherent afGinity between brooding shadows of
heart and soul, and that veil of physical darkness that wraps the
world, during the silent reign of night ? Why do sad thoughts
like corporeal sufifering and disease grow more intense, more
torm^ting, with the approach of evening's gloom 1 Who has
not reaUzed that trials, sorrows, bereavements which in daylight
we partly conquer and put aside, — ^rally and triumph — over-
whelming us by the aid of night ? Why are the sick always
encouraged, and the grief-laden rendered more heerful by the
coming of dawn f Is there some physical or chemical founda-
tion forFiguier's wild dream of reviving sun-worship, by referring
ail life to the vivifying rays of the King Star? Does the mind
emit gloomy sombre thoughts at night, as plants exhale car-
bonic acid ) What subtle connection exists between a cheerful
iplrit, and the amount of oxygen we inhale in golden daylight t
[s hope, radiant warm sunny hope, only one of those ** beings
Vroveu of aur by light,"— whereof Moleschott wrote ?

Miiii

144

ISFMZJOB.

I I

' To Begins, the sad vigil seemed iotermin&ble, and sdon
after the clock struck four, she hailed with inexpressible de-
light the peculiarly shrill crowing of her favourite white Leghorn
oock, which she knew heralded the advent of day. The China
geese responded from their corner of the fowl-yard, and amid
the reveilie of the poultry, Hannah rose, crept stetdthUy to the
table and extinguished the lamp. Intently listening to every
movement, Begina felt assured she was dressing rapidly,— and
in a teffr moments the tremulous motion of the floor, and
the carefully-guarded sound of the bolt turned slowly, told her
that the old woman had started to fulfil her promise.

Having fully determined her own course, the girl lost no
time in reflection, but hastily fastening her clothes, took her
shoes in one hand, the cane in the other, and limping to the
gl\ss door softly unlocked it, loosened the outside Venetian
bliiids, and sat down on the steps leading to the garden. Tak-
ing off the bandage, she slipped her shoe on the sprained foot,
and wrapping a light white shawl around her, made her way
slowly down the walk that wound toward the church.

Unaccustomed to the cane, she used it with great difficulty,
and the instant her wounded foot touched the ground, sharp
twinges renewed the remonstrance that had been silent until
she attempted to walk.

A waning moon hung above the tree-tops on the western
boundary of the enclosure, and its wan spectral lustre lit up the
ohurchyard, showing Eegina the tall form of Hannah, who car-
ried a spade or short shovel on her shoulder, and had just passed
through the gate, leaving it open. Following as rapidly as she
dared, in the direction of the iron railing, the child was only a
few yards in the rear, when the old woman stopped suddenly, —
then ran forward, — and a cry like that of some baffled wild
beast broke the crystal calm of the morning air.

** The curse of God is upon it ! The poplar is gone ! "

Gliding along, Kegina reached the outer edge of the railing,
and creeping behind the broken granite shaft which shielded
her from observation, she peered cautiously around the comer,
and saw that the noble towering tree had been struck by light-
ning and fired. Whether shivered by electricity, or subse-
quently blown down by the fury of the gale, none ever knew ;
but it appeared to have been twisted off about two feet above
the ground, and in ite fall smote and shattered the marble
imgel, which a few hours before had hovered with expanded

tNWBUOB,

145

wingt oyer a child's gnve. A wreath of blue imoke eurled
and floated from the heart of the stump, showing that the roots
were burning, and the ivy and periwii^le so luxuriant on the
previous day, were now a mass of ashes and cinders.

On her knees sank Hannah, raking the hot embers into a
heap, and at last she bent her gray head almost to the ground.
Liftinio; something on the end of the spade, she uttered a low
wail of despair :

" Melted — burnt up ! I thought it was tin-^it must have
been lead I Either the curse of God, — or the work of the devil !"

She fell back like one smitten with a stunning blow, and
sobs shook her powerful frame.

Very near the ground the tree had contained a hollow, hidden
by the rank lush creepers, and in this cavity she had deposited
a small can, cylindrical in form, and similar in appearance to
those generally used for hermetically sealed mushroomSi XTpon
it several spadefuls of earth had been thrown, to secure it from
detection, should prying eyes discover the existence of the
hollow.

All that remained was a shapeless lump of molten metal.

Along the east a broad band of yellow was rapidly mounting
into the. sky, and in the blended light of moon and day, the
churchyard presented a melancholy scene of devastation.

The spire and belfry had tiallen upon, and in front of the
church, and the long building stood like j. dismasted vessel
among the billowy graves, that swelled as a restless sea around
its gray weather-beaten sides. Here and there ancient head-
stones had been blown down on the mounds they guarded ;
and one venerable willow in the centre of a cluster of graves,
had betn torn from the earth, and its network of roots lifted
until they rested against a stone cross.

Awed by the solemn influence of the time and place, and
painfully reminded of her own peril on the previous night, Ee-
gina stepped down from the base of the monument, and ap-

5 reached the figure crouching over the blasted smoking roots,
'here was no rustle of grass or leaf as she limped across the
dewy turf, but warned by that mysterious magnetic instinct
which so often announces some noiseless, invisilue human pre-
sence, Hannah lifted and turned her head. With a scream of
superstitious terror, she sprang to her feet.

Very ghostly the girl certainly appeared, in her snowy mull
muslin dress and white shawl, as she le^^ned forward on the

146

INFEUOE.

cane, and looked steaaily at the old woman. Her long black
hair loosened and disordered by tossing about all night, hung
over her shoulders and gave a weird almost supernatural aspect
to the blanched and sorrowful young lace, which in that strange
chill light seemed well nigh as rigid and pallid as a corpse.

" Hannah Hinton!"

" God have mercy ! Who are you 1 "

Hannah seized the spade and brandished it, with hands that
shook from terror.

" You wicked woman — do you want to kill me 1 Put down
that spade."

Regina advanced, but the old woman retreated, still waving
the spade.

'' Hannah, are you afraid of me 1 "

" Good Lord I Is it you — Regina 1 "

" Your sin makes you a coward. Did you really think me a
ghost?"

" It is true — ^I am afraid of everything now, even of my own
shadow, and once, I was so brave. But what are yon doing
here % I thought you were crippled % What are you tracking
me for?"

She threw down the spade, ran forward, and seized the girl's
shoulder, while a scowl of mingled fear and rage darkened her
countenance.

' " You are watching — trailing me like a bloodhound ? Is it
any of your business where I go 1 Suppose I do choose to
come here and say my prayers among the dead, while other
folks are sound asleep in their beds — who has the right to hinder
mel"

"Don't tell stories, Hannah. If you really said your
prayers, you would never have come here to sell your soul to
Satan."

Tightening her clutch, the old woman shook her, as if she had
been a slender reed, and an ashen hue settled upon her
wrinkled features, as she cried in an unnaturally shrill quaver-
ing tone :

''Aha! you were eavesdropping yesterday in the church —
how I wish to God it had all blown down on you ! And you
watched me — you mean to disgrace me — to ruin me — to
arrest me ! You do ! You shall not I I will strangle you
first!"

<VTake yoiir hands off my shoulders, Hannah. Do you

-ai^ ,^,:s-j^tsa!==uyj-^ ~

ISFBUCm.

think yoQ can scare me with snch wild desperate threats 1 In
the first place, I am not afraid to die — and in the second you
know very well you dare not kill me. Let go my shoulder,
you hurt me."

Very white but fearless, the young face was lifted to hers,
aD(^ *^3fore those wrathful glittering eyes that flashed like blue
Bveel, Hannah quailed. ^

" Will you promise not to betray me ? *
'^ I will promise nothing, while you threaten me. Sit down,
you are shaking all over as if you had an ague. When I came
here I had no intention of betraying you ; I only wanted to
prevent you from committing a sin. Are you going to have a
spasm % Do sit down."

Hannah's teeth were chattering violently, and her trembling
limbs seemed indeed unable to support her. When she sank
down on the stone base of the shaft, Begina stood before her,
leaning more heavily upon the cane.

" I neard all that you said yesterday, yet I was not * eaves-
dropping.' You came and stood under the window where I sat,
and if you had looked up you would have seen me. When I
learned you were engaged in a wicked plot, I determined to try
to stop you before it was too late. I followed you here, hoping
that you would give that paper to me, instead of to that bold
bad man ; for though you did very wrong, I can't believe that
you have a wicked cruel heart.''

She paused, but the only response was a deep groan, and
Hannah shrouded her face in her arms.

<' Hannah, did my mother ever injure you — ever harm you in
anyway?"

*' Yes — she caused me to steal — and T shall hate her as long
as I live. I was as honest as an angel, until she came that
freezing night — so many years ago — and showed me by her
efbrts, her anxiety to get the paper — how valuable it was.
Beside, it was on her account that my nephew went to destruc-
tion ; and I was sure all the blame and suspicion would fall on
her. It seemed so clear that she stole the pa]^. I knew Mr.
Hargrove gave her a copy of it — and I only winted to sell the
paper itself to the old general in Europe — because I was poor,
ana had not money enough to stop work. I have not had a
happy day since ;---my conscience has tormented me. I have
carried a mountain of lead upon my soul, day and night — and
Htl^t when feleg came, apd | was about to |;et my gold— tho

IUFBLIOB.

Lord interfered and took it out of my hands. Oh ! it is an
avfUl thing to shut your eyes and stop your ears and run down
a steep place to meet the devil who is waiting at the bottom for
you — and to feel yourself suddenly jerked back by something
which you know Almighty Ood has sent to stop you % He sent
that lightning to burn up the paper, and I feel that His curse
will follow me to my grave."
" Not if you earnestly repent, and pray for His forgiveness.'*
Hannah raised her gray head, and gazed incredulously at
the pale delicate face, — into the violet eyes that watched her
with almost tender compassion."

" Oh, child ! when our hands are tied, and we are so help-
less we can't do any more mischief, — who believes in our re-
pentance 1 **

'* I do, Hannah ; — and how much more merciful is God 1 ''
"You don't mean — that you would ever trust me, — ever
believe in me again 1 "

Her hand caught the white muslin dress, and her haggard,
wrinkled face was full of eager breathless supplication.

" Yes, Hannah, I would. I do not believe you will ever steal
again. Suppose the lightning had struck you as well as the
tree where you hid th» stolen paper, — ^what do you think
would have oecome of your poor, wicked soul 1 You intended
to sell that paper to a person who hates my mother, and who
would have used it to injure her » but she is in God's hands,
—and you ought to be glad that this sin at least was prevented.
In a few <iays you are going away, far out to the wDst,
you say, — where we shall probably never see or hear from you
again, unless you choose to write us. Until you are gone, I
shall keep all this secret. Mrs. Lindsay never shall know ai ly-
thing about it, but if Mr. Hargrove believes my mother cook
that paper, 'it is my duty to her to tell him the truth ; — and
this I must do after you leave us. I promise he shall susp ect
nothing while you remain here. 'Jan vou ask me to do more
than thisfor youl"

Hannah was crying passionately, and attempted no answ er»
save by drawing the girl closer to her, as if she wanted to
take the slender figure in her brawny arms.

"I am sorry for you, Hannah, — sorry for my dear moth.er,
— sorry for myself' The storm came and put an end to all
the mischief you meant to do, — so let us be thankful. You
say my mother has a copy, and it would have injured her if t;he

tNFBuaa,

t»

Oliginal papelr had been sold. Then you have harmed only
yourself. Don't cry, — and don't say anything more. Let it
all rest ; — ^I shall never speak to you again on the subject
Hannah, will you please help me back to the house) My
foot pains me dreadfully,— and I begin to feel sick and
fiiint*'

In the mellow orange light that had climbed the sky, and
was flooding the world with a mild glory, wherein the wan
moon waned ghostly, — the old woman led the white figure
itoward the Parsonage. When they reached the little gate,
Hegina grasped the supporting arm, and a deadly pallor over-
spread her features.

" Where are you, Hannah ) I cannot see "

The blue eyes closed, she tottered, — and as Hannah caught
and bore her up, — a swift heavy step on the gravel caused her
to glance over her shoulder.

*' What is the matter, Aunt Hannah f You look ill and
frightened. Is that, — Minnie's child ) "

"Hush! — our game is all up. For God's sake, go away
until seven o'clock, — then I will explain. Don't make a noise,
Peleg. I must get her in the house without waking any one.
If Mr. Hargrove should see us, we are ruined."

As Hannah strode swiftly toward the glass door, boaring the
Slight form n her stout arms, the stranger pressed forward,
eagerly scrutinizing the girl's face , but at this juncture^ Hero,
barking violently, sprang %iown the walk, and the intruder
liastily retreated to the cnurch-yard, securing the gate after he
passed through.

■ T

CHAPTER XL

|HE steamer sailed promptly, on the Thursday subsequent
" to Mrs. Lindsay departure from the Parsonage, but
she had been absent ten days, de^;ained by the illness
of a friend in Boston.

Impatiently her return was anticipated by every mem-
oer of the household, and when a telegram announced that she
,;.inight be expected on the following morning, general rejoicing

160

ItrFEUOM,

succeeded the gloom which had hung chill and lowering orer
the diminished family circle. Under Hannah's faithful cautious
treatment, Kegina had sufficiently recovered from the effects of
the sprain, to walk once more without much pain, thoush she
still limped perceptibly j but a nameless, formless forebocnng of
some impending evil, — some baleful influence, — some grievous
calamity hovering near, rendered her particularly anxious for
Mrs. Lindsay's comforting presence.

The condition of the church, which was undergoing a com-
plete renovation, as well as repairing of the steeple, prevented
the usual services, and this compulsory rest and leisure seemed
singularly opportune for Mr. Hargrove, who had been ^uite
indisposed and feeble for some days. The physician ascnbed
his condition to the lassitude induced by tne excessive heat,
and I^gina attributed his pale weary Aspect and evident pros-
tration to grief for the loss of his nephew and adopted son ;
but Hannah looked deeper, shook her grizzled head, and
" wished Miss Elise would come home."

The pastor's eyes which had long resented the exaggerated
taxation imposed upon them by years of study, had recently
rebelled outright, and he spoke of the necessity of visiting New
York, to consult an eminent oculist, who, Mrs. Lindsay wrote,
had gone to Canada, but would return in September, when he
hoped to examine and undertake the treatment of her brother's
eyes.

During Thursday morning, the minister lay upon his library
sofa, while Begina read aloud for several hours, but in the after-
noon, receiving a summons to attend a sick man belonging to
his church, he persisted in walking to a distant part of the town,
to discharge what he considered a clerical obligation.

In vain Eegina protested, assuring him that the heat and
fatigue would completely prostrate him. He only smiled,
patted her head, and said cheerfully as he put on his hat :

" Is the little girl wiser than her guardian ? And has she
not yet learned that a pastor's duty knows neither heat nor
cold, — neither fatigue, nor bodily weaknesses? "

*' I am so glad Mrs. Lindsay will come to-morrow. She can
keep you at home, and make you take care of yourself."

Holding his sleeve, she followed him to the front door, and
detained him a moment, to fasten in the button-hole of his
coat a tuberose and sprig of heliotrope, his favourite flowers.

"Tiumkyou, my dear. You have learned all of Eliae'a

INFMLICE.

pretty petting tricks, and some day you will be, I hope, jnsl
such a noble, tender-hearted woman. While I am gone, look
after the young guineas ; I have not seen them since yesterday.
I shall not stay very long."

He walked away, and she went out "'nong the various peti
in the poultry yard.

It was late in August, but the afternoon was unusually close
and warm, and argosies of frail creamy clouds with saffron
shadows seemed becalmed in the still upper air, which was of
that peculiar^ blue that betokens turbid ether, and hints at
showers.

About sunset, Begina rolled the large easy-chaii out on the
verandah at the west of the library, and placir a table in front
of it, busied herself in arranging the pastor's evening meal. It
consisted of white home-made lightbread, a pineapple of golden
butter, deftly shaped and printed by her own slender hands, —
a glass bowl filled with honey from the home hives, — honey
that resembled melted amber in cells of snow, — a tiny pyramid
of baked apples, and a goblet of iced milk.

Upon a spotless square of damask daintily fringed, she placed
the supper, and in the centre a crystal vase filled with beautiful
Cloth of Gold and Prince Albert roses, among which royal
crimson and white carnations held up their stately heads, and
exhaled marvellous fragrance. Upon the snowy napkin beside
the solitary plate, she left a Grand Duke jasm^'ne lying on the
heart of a rose-geranium leaf.

" Has he come 1 " asked Hannah, throwing wide the Venetian
blinds.

" Not yet ; but he must be here very soon."

" Well, I am going to milk. Dapple has been lowing these
ten minutes, to let me know I am behind time. I waited to
see if a cup of tea would be wanted, but it is getting late. If
he should ask for it, the kettle is boiling, and I guess you can
make it in a minute. I have lighted the lamp and turned it
down low."

She went toward the cattle-shed, swinging her copper milk-
pail, which was burnished to a degree of ruddy glory beautiful
to contemplate ; and which alas ! is rarely seen in this age of
new fashions, and new-fashioned utensils.

" Gome, Hero, let us go and meet the master."

But Eegina had not left the verandah belore Mr. Hargrove

153

iNFSLtCi.

came slowly toward tho easy-chair, walking wearily she thought,,
as if spent with fatigue.

** How tired you are ! Give me your hat and cane."

** Yes dear, very tired. I had something like vertigo, ac-
companied by severe palpitation as I came home, and was
obliged to sit on the roadside till it passed."

" Let me send for Dr. Melville."

" You silly soft-souled young pigeon i These attacks are not
dangerous, — merely annoying while they last."

" Perhaps a cup of tea will strengthen you ? "

" Thank, you dear, but I believe I prefer some cool water."

She brought a tumbler of iced water, and a stool which she
placed beneath his feet.

" How delicious ! worth all the tea in China i all the wine in
Spain."

He handed back the empty glass, and sank down in his
comfortable chair.

" How did you find Mr. Needham 1 "

** Much worse than when I saw him last. He had another
hemorrhage to-day, and is evidently sinking. I should not be
surprised if I were recalled before to-morrow, for his poor wife
is almost frantic and wished me to remain all night ; but I
knew you were lonely here."

The exertion of speaking wearied him, and he laid bis head
back, and closed his' eyes.

** Won't you eat your supper ? It will help you ; and your
milk is already iced."

" I will try after a while, when I have rested a little. My
child you are very good to anticipate my wants. I noticed all
you have done for me, and the flowers are lovely ; sodeliciously
sweet too."

He opened his eyes, took the Grand Duke, smelled it, smiled
and stroked her hand which rested on the arm of his chair.

Scarlet plumes and dashes of cirrus cloud that glowed like
. sacrificial fires upon the altar of the west, paled, flickered, died
out in ashen gray ; and a moon more gold than silver hung in
shimmering splendour among the cloud ships, — lending a daz-
zling fringe to their edges, — and making quaint arabesque pat-
terns of gilt embroidery on the verandah floor, where the soft
light fell through interlacing vines of woodbine and honeysuckle.
With the night came silence, broken only by the subdued plaint
of the pigeons in the neighbouring yard, and the cooing of a

INFELICS.

163

^^1

pair of pet ring-doves that slept in the honeysuckle, and were
kept awake by the moonshine which invaded their nest, and
tempted them to gossip. , After awhile a whippoorwill which
haunted the church-yard elms, drew gradually nearer, finally
settling upon a deodar cedar in the flower garden, whence it
poured forth its lonely miserere wail.

Mr. Hargrove sat so still, that Begina hoped he had fallen
asleep, but very soon he said :

" My dear, you need not fan me."

"I hoped you were sleeping, and that a nap would refresh
you."

He took her hand, pressed it gently, and said with the grave
tenderness peculiar to him :

** What a thoughtful good little nurse you are % Almost as
watchful and patient as Elise. Have you had your supper 1 "

" All that I want, — some bread and milk. Hero and I ate
our supper before you came. Shall I bring your slippers ? "

** Thank you — I believe not Before long I will go to sleep.
Regina, open the organ, and play something soft and holy, —
with the Tremulant. Sing me that dear old 'Protect us
tlurough the coming night,' which my Douglass loves so well."

" I wish I could, but you know, Sir, it is a Quartett, and
beside — I should never get through my part ; it reminds me
so painfully of the last time we all sang it."

** Well then, my little girl, something else ; * Oh that I had
wings like a dove.' To-night I am almost like a weary child,
and only need a lull&by to hush me to sleep. Go, dear, and
iing me to rest."

Beluctantly she obeyed, brightened the library lamp, and sat
down before the cabinet organ, which had been brought over
to the Parsonage for safe keeping, while the church was being
repaired. As she pulled out the stops, Hannah touched her.

/' Has he finished his supper % Can I move the dishes and
table?"

" Not yet. He is too tired just now to eat."

" Then I will wait here. To tell you the truth, I have a
queer feeling that scares me, — makes my flesh creep. While
I was straining the milk just now, a screech-owl flew on the
top of the dairy, and its awful death-warning almost froze the
blood in my veins. How I do wish Miss Elise was here ! I
hope it is not a sign of a railroad accident to her, — or that the
vessel is lost that carried her boy ! "
J m

104

INFELIOE.

" Hash— »yon superstitious old Hannah 1 I oftien hear that
screech-owl, and it is only hunting for mice. Mrs. Lindsay will
eome to-morrow."

Her fingers wandered over the keys, and in a sweet, pure
and remarkably clear voice she sang : ** Oh that I had wings."
With great earnestness and pathos she rendered the final "to
be at rest," — lingering long on the ** Amen."

Then she began one of Mozart's symphonies, and from il
glided away into favourite selections from Bossinrs "MoKse."

Once afloat upon the mighty tide of sacred music, she drifted
on and on, now into a requiem, now a *' Gloria," and at last
the grand triumphant strains of the pastor's favourite ** Jubi-
late ' rolled through the silent houce, out upon the calm, lus-
trous summer night.

Of the flight of time, she had taken no cognizance, and a«
she closed the organ and rose, she heard the clock striking
nine, and saw that Hannah was nodding in a coxner of the
Bofa.

Surprised at the lateness of the hour, she stepped otit on the
▼eranlah, and approached the arm-chair.

The moon had sunk so low that its light had been dimini f l^
but tilie reflection from the library lamp prevented total .» >
ness. Mr. Hargrove had not moved from the posture in wJuch
she left him, and she said very softly :

" Are you asleep 1 "

He made no answer, and unwilling to arouse him^ she sat
down on the step to wait until he finished his nap.

As the moon went down, a light breeze sprang from Bomt
blue depths of the far west, and began to skim the frail foamy
clouds that drifted imperceptibly across the star-lit sky ; and to
the crystal fingers of the dew, the numerous flowera in the gaiy
den below yielded a generous tribute of perfame, that blended
into a wave of varied aromas, and rolled to and fro in the cool
might air. Calm, sweet and holy, the night seemed a very
benison, dispensing peace.

Watching the white fire of constellations burning in the
vault above her, Begina wondered whether it were a fair night
far out at sea, — if the same glittering stellar clusters swung
above the deck of the noble vessel that had been for many days
upon the ocean, — or if the storm fiend held cyclone carnival
upon the distant Atlantic 1

Her thoughts wandered towards the future, that terra ineo^

,.- *^ .

INFELiaX.

155

It)

ntta which Mr. Lindsay's vagne words:— ''there 'are trials
ahead of you/' — ^had peopled with dread yet intangible phan-
toms, whose spectral shadows solemnly presageful, hovered over
even the present. Why was her own history a sealed volume,
— her father a mystery,— her mother a wanderer in foreign
lands t

From this most unprofitable train of reflection, she w Ji era-
duaUy recalled by the restless singular behaviour of her dog.
He had been lying near the table, with his head on his paws,
bilt rose, whined,— came close to his mistress and caught her
sleeve between his teeth, — his usual mode of attracting her
uttention.

" What is it, Hero 1 Are you hungry %"

He barked, ran to the easy chair, rubbed his nose against
the pastor's hand,-— <»ime back whinine to Beeina, and finally
returning to the chair, sat down, bent his head to the pastor'a
feet, and uttered a prolonged and dismal howl.

An undefinable horror made the girl spring toward the chair.

The sleeper had not ttioved, and stooping over, she put her
hand on his forehead. The cold damp touch terrified her,
and with a eiy of, "Hannah 1 O Hannah I" she darted into
the library, and seized the lamp. By its light held close to the
quiet figiue, she saw that the eyes were closed as in slumber,
and the lips half parted, as though in dreaming he had smiled ;
but the features were rigid, the hands stiff and cold, and she
could feel no flutter in the wrists or temples.

** Oh my God ! he is dead 1 " screamed Hannah, wringing her
hands, and uttering a succession of shrieks ; while like a statue
of despair the girl stood, staring almost vacantly at the white,
placid face of the dead. At last, shuddering from head to foot,
she exclaimed :

** Run for Dr. Melville ! Bun, Hannah ! you can go faster
now, than I could."

<* What is the use 1 He is dead ! Stone dead ! "

" Perhaps not — he may revive. O Hannah ! why don't you
gol"

" Leave you alone in the house, — with a corpse 1 "

" Bun — run ! Tell the doctor to hurry. He may do some-
thing."

As the old servant disappeared, Begina fell on her knees, and
seizing the right hand, carried it to her lips ; then began to
ohate it violently between her own trembling palms.

mm.

166

ISFELICE.

<*0 Lord— spare him a little while ! Spare hin^ till his sister
eomes ! "

She rushed into the library, procured some brandy which was
kept in the medicine chest, and with the aid of a spoon tried to
force some down his throat, but the muscles refused to relax,
and pouring the brandy on her handkerchief, she rubbed his
face and the hand she had already chafed. In the left he tightly
held the jasmine, as when he spoke to her last, and she shrank
from touching those fingers.

Finding no change in the fixed white face, she took off his
shoes and rubbed lus feet with mustard, but no effect encour-
iged her, and finally she sat, praying silently, — ^holding the feet
tenderly against her heart.

How long lasted that lonely vigil with the dead, she never
knew. Hope deserted her, and by degrees she realized the
awful truth, that the arrival of the physician so impatiently ex-
pected, would bring no succour. How bitterly she upbraided
herself for leaving him a moment, even though in obedience to
his wishes. Perhaps he had called, and the organ had drowned
his voice.

Had he died while she sang, and was his spirit already with
Ck)d, when she repeated the words, — "Faraway in the regions
of the blest 1 " When she came on tiptoe and asked '* Are
you asleep f" — ^was he indeed verily "Asleep in Jesus 1*
While she waited, fearful of disturbing his slumber, was his re-
leased and rejoicing soul nearing the pearly battlements of the
Oity of Best — led by God's most pitying and tender Angel, —
loving yet silent Death ?

When will humanity reject and disown the hideous ruthless
monster its own disordered fancy fashioned,— :and accept in-
stead the beautiful oriental Asrael, — ^the most ancient " Help
of God," — ^who is sent in infinite mercy to guide the we^
soul into the blessed realm of Peace ?

''Oland! OLand!

For all the broken-hearted,
The mildest herald b^ our fate allotted —

Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand,
To lead us with a gentlo hand

Into the Land of the great departed, —
Into the silent Land."

< When the solemn silence that hung like a pall over the Par-
lonage was broken by the hurried tread of many feet, and the

INFBUCS.

157

sister

shwas
hied to
[relax,
3d his
lightly
Ihrank

confused sound of strange voices, Begina seemed to be aroused
from some horrible lethargy, and gazed despairingly at the
Doctor.

" It is too late. You can't do anything for him now," she
said, clinging to his feet, as an attempt was made to lift them
from her lap.

"He must have been dead several hours,** answered Dr.
Melville.

'< None but God and the angels know when he died. X
thought he had gone to sleep ; and so indeed he had."

Hannah had spread the alarm while searching for the doc-
tor, and very soon Mr. Hargrove's personal friends and some
of the members of his congregation thronged the library, into
which the body of the minister had been removed.

An hour afterward,— Dr. Melville having searched for the
girl all over the house, found her crouched on the steps leading
down to the flower garden. She sat with her arm around
Hero's neck, and her head bowed against him. Seating him-
self beside her, the physician, said :

• " Poor child, this is an awful ordeal for you, and in Dr.
Hargrove's death you have lost a friend, whom the whole
world cannot replace. He was the noblest man, the purest
Christian I ever knew, — ^aud if the church has a hundi'ed pas-
tors in future, none will ever equal him. He married me, he
baptized my children, and when I buried my wife, — ^his voice

brought me the most comfort, the "

His tone faltered, and a brief silence ensued.
" Regina, I wish you would tell me as nearly as you can how
he seemed to-day, and how it all happened. I could get
nothing satisfactory out of old HannaL"

She described the occurrences of the morning, his debility and
entire lack of appetite, and the long walk in uie afternoon, fol
lowed by the attack of vertigo and palpitation, t which he
alluded after his return. When she concluded he : recital of
the last terrible scene in the melancholy drama, Dr. Melville
sighed, and said :

^^ It has ended just as I feared and predicted. His heart
has been aJQTected for some time, and not a month ago I urged
him to give up his pulpit work for a while at least, and try
rest and change of air. But he answered that he considered
his work imperative, and when he died it would be with the
harness on. He would not permit me to allude to the subject

158

INFEUOE.

i a

ia the presence of his family, because he told ^<^ he did not
wish to alarm his sister, who is so devoted to him, or render
the parting with his nephew more painful, by adding appre-
.hensions concerning his health. I fear his grief at the loss of
Douglass has hastened the end."

" When Mrs. Lindsay comes to-morrow, it will kill her,"
groaned Eegina, whose soul seemed to grow sick as she thought
of the devoted fond sister, and the anguish that awaited her
already bruised and aching heart.

"No, sorrow does not kill people, — else the race would
become extinct."

" It has killed Mr. Hargrove.*"

" Not sorrow, but the disease which sorrow may have ag-
, gravated."

" Mrs. Lindsay would not go to India with her son, because
she said she could not leave her brother whose sight was fail-
ing, and who needed her most. Now she has lost both. Oh 1
I wish I could run away to-morrow, somewhere, anywhere — out
of sight of her misery ! "

" Some one must meet her at the train, and prepare her for
the sad news. My dear child you would be the best person fdr
that melancholy task."

"II Never I I would cut off my tongue before it should
stab her heart with such awful news ! Are people ever prepared
for trouble like this % "

" Well, somebody must do it ; but like you I am not brave
enough to meet her with the tidings. When it is necessary, 1
can amputate limbs, and do a great many apparently cruel
things, — but when it comes to breaking such bad news as this
— I am a nervous coward. Mr. Campbell is a kind, tender*
hearted friend of the family, and I will request him to tak6 a
carriage and meet her to-morrow. Poor thing ! what a wel-
coinehomel" ^

Soon after he left her, she heard the whistle of the night-
express, which arrived simultaneouslywith the departure of the
outward train bound South, and she knew that it was eleven
o'clock.

Hannah was in the kitchen talking with Esau the sexton, and
when several gentlemen who offered to remain until morning,
came out on the verandah — leaving the blinds of the library
windows wide open — ^Ke^^a rose and stole away to escape their
observation.

iirfMLioa,

159

id not
render
appre-
loss of

Although walking swiftly, she causht sight of the table in the
middle of the room, and of a mass oi white drapery, on which
the lamp-light fell with ghostly lustre. Twelve hours before,
she had sat there, reading to the faithful kind friend whose af-
fectionate gaze rested all the while upon her ; now stiff and icy
he was sleeping his last sleep in the same spot, — and his soul t
Safely resting after the feverish toil and strife of Time, ami^ the
palms of Eternal Peace. Not the peace of Nirwana j neither
the absolute abPGr])tion of one school of philosophy, nor the
total extinction ir.v'^ulcated by a yet grosser system. Not the
vague insensate l'ea-?e of Pantheism, but the spiritual rest of a
heaven of reuniou and of recognition, promised by Jesus Christ
our Lord, wh . ?.quering death, in that lonely rock-hewn
Judsan tomb, — won immortal identity for human souls. Not
the succession of progressive changes that constitute the Here-
after of—

** This age that blots out life with gnestion-marks,
This nineteenth century with its knife and glass
That make thought physical, and thrust far off
The Heaven, so neighbourly with man of old.
To voids sparse-sown with alienated stars."

Among the multitudinous philosophic, psychologic, biologic
systems that have waxed and waned, dazzled and deluded, —
from the first utterances of Gotama, — ^to the very latest of the
advanced Evolutionists, is there any other than the Christian
solution of the triple-headed riddle — ^Whence f — Wherefore %
— ^Whither) that will deliver us from the devouring Sphinx De-
spair ; or yield us even shadowy consolation when the pinions
ca gentle yet inexorable death poise over our household dar-
ling, — and we stand beside the cold cilent clay, which natural
affection and life-long companionship render so inexpresiubly
precious.

When we lower the oofBin of our beloved, is there soothing
comfort in the satisfactoiy reflection that perhaps at some dis-
tant epoch, hy the harmonious operation of " Natur&l Selection **
and by virtue of the " Conservation of Force," the " Survival
of the Fittest" will certainly ensure the ** Differentiation,*' the
** Evolution '* of our buried treasure into some, new , strange,
superior type of creature, to us forever unknown and utterly
unrecognizable I Tormented by aspirations which neither time
Qpr space, force nor matter will realize or satisfy, oonsamed by

160

tSFELICX.

Bpiritnal hunger fiercer than TJgolino's, we are invited to seize
upon the Barmecide's banquet of, " The law which formulates
organic development as a transformation of the homogeneous
into* the heterogeneous ; " and that " this universal transforma-
tion is a change from indefinite homogeneity to definite hetero-
peneity ; and that only when the increasing multiformity is
joined with increasing definiteness, does it constitute Evolution
as distinguished from other changes that are like it, in respect
of increasing heterogeneity."
Does this wise and simple pabulum cure spiritual starvation t
"God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness.
And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and
breathed into his nostrils the breath of life ; and man became
ft living soul." Nay — thunders Science, — put away such child-
ish superstition, smite such traditionary idols ; — man was first
made after the similitude of a marine ascidian, and once swam
as a tadrole in primeval seas.

In all the wide universe of modem speculation there remains
no unexplored nook or cranny, where an immortal human soul
can find refuge or haven. Having hunted it down, trampled
and buried it as one of the little " inspired legendary " foxes
that nibble and bruise the promising sprouts of the Science
Vineyard, — what are we requested to accept in lieu of the
doctrine of spiritual immortality 1 " Natural Evolution."

One who has long been regarded as an esoteric in the Eleusis
of Science, and who ranks as a crowned head among its hier-
ophants, frankly tells us : " What are the core and essence of
this hypothesis Natural Evolution? Strip it naked, and you
stand face to face with the notion that not alone the more
ignoble forms of animalcular or animal life, not alone the nobler
forms of the hoxise and lion, not Alone the exquisite and wonder-
ful mechanism of the human body,-' but thaluthe human mind
itself, — emotion, intellect, will, and all their phenomenft—were
once latent in a fiexy cloud. Many who hold it would probably
assent to the position that at the present moment all our philo-
sophy, all our poetry, «11 our science, all our art— Plato, Shakes-
peare, Newton, and Raphael— are potential in the fires of the
sun." ■ • ' A different pedigree from that offered us by
Moses and the Prophets, Olurist and the Apostles, — ^but does
it lu^ht up the Hereafter f

We are instructed that our instincts and consciousness dwell
in the ^' sensory ganglia/'— thaf an idea ia a contiaclion, «

* 9

iNFElJCi.

notioo, a configuration of the intermediate organ g^ sense/'—
that " memory is the organic registration of the effects of im*
pressions," — and that the " cerebrum " is the seat of ideas, the
home of thought and reason. But when " gray-matter " that
composes this thinking mechanism becomes diseased, and the
cold touch of death stills the action of fibre and vesicle, what
light can our teachers pour upon the future of that coagulated
substance where once reigned hope, ambition, love or hate f
Those gray granules that were memory — become oblivion.
Certainly physiology has grown jto giant stature since the days
of St. Paul, — but does it bring to weeping mourners any more
comfort than the doctrine he taught the Corinthians )

Does the steel Law Mill of Progressive Development grind
us either tonic or balm for the fatal hours of sorest human
trial f We have learned that " the heart of man is constructed
upon the recognized rules of hydraulics, and with its great
tubes, is furnished with common mechanical contrivances,
valves."

But when the valvular action is at rest under the stern finger
of Death, can all the marvellous appliances of this intensely and
wonderfully mechanical age, force one ruddy drop through
those great tubesj-^i-or coax one solitary throb, where God has
said "be still 'M

To the stricken mother bowed over the waxen image of her
darling, is there any system, theory or creed that promises
aughtt^ftheGreat-Beyond, comparable to the Christian's sub*
limeiiopE tnat the pet lamb is safely and tenderly folded by
the Shepnerd Jesus 9

To the achine lieart and lonely soul of sorrowing Regina,
these vexing ridales that sit open-mouthed at our rel^ous and
8cientifift<«rous*roads, — brought no additional gloom ; for with
the pure nolylaitb of unquestioning childhood, she seemed to
see^uvside tne rigic4bn& of her pastor and friend, the angel
who on sea-girt Patmos bade St. John t " Write, Blessed are
the dead who die in the Lord, from henceforth ; yea, saith the
Spirit, that they may rest from their labours ; and their works
do follow them."

Anxious to avoid those who sat within, keeping sad watch,
the unhappy girl went around to the front entrance, and sank
down on the lowest step, burying her face in her hands.

The library was merely a continuation of the hall that ran
east and west, through the centre of the house, and though

•r,mm

HHW

lei

ttrrEuaa,

comparAtivelv remote from the front door, wm immediatelv
opposite, and from the sight of that room, Kegina shrank
infitinctivelv.

Too much shocked and stunned to weep, she became so ab-
sorbed by thoughts of to-morrow's mournful mission, tliat she
failed to notice the roll of wheels along the street, or the quick
rattle of the gate-latch. The sound of rapid footsteps and the
mstle of drapery on the pebbled walk, finally arrested her at-
tention, and rising she would have moved aside but a hand
seiced her arm.

" What is the matter % How is my brother ) "

" Oh— Mrs. Lindsay ! "

'* Something must have happened. I had such a presenti-
ment of trouble at home, that I could not wait till to-morrow.
I came on the night expresss. Why is the house all lighted up 1
Is Peyton ill? "

Trembling from head to foot, she waited an instant, but
Begina only crouched and groaned, and Mrs. Lindsay sprang
up the steps. As she reached the door, the light in the library
revealed the shrouded table — the ligid figure resting thereon—
and a piercing wail broke the silence of death.

" Merciful God ! — not my Peyton ? "

Thrusting her fingers into her ears, Begina fled down the
walk, out of the yard, anywhere to escape the sound and sight
of that broken-hearted woman whose cry was indeed de j^ro-
fumdis,

** Oonsole if you will, I can bear it ;
Tis a well-meaut alms of breath ;
But not all the preaching since Adam
Has made Death other than Death."

xn.

t'jrilo

y.'jRii-i

DBS ART sunless December day had drawn to acYott^,
prematurely darkened by a slow drizzling rain, that
brought tiie gloom of earlv night, where sunset splen-
dours should have lingered, and deepened the sombre
desolation that mantled the Parsonage. In anticipation
iil Uie ttrivai of tho new minister, who was expected the ensuing

KZ^-.

INFEUCa.

1G3

iatelv
irank

ab-
it she
quick
dthe
er at-
hand

ienti-
rrow.
lup?

> but
}rang
brary
>on —

I the

sight

pro-

■

lose;
that
Aeor
ibre
tioti
linK

' ii

week, the furniture had been removed and sold, the books care-
fully packed and temporarily stored at the warehouse of a
friend, and even the trunks containing the wearing apparel of
the occupants had been despatched to the railway depot, and
checked for transmission by the night express.

The melancholy preparations for departure were completed,
friends had paid their final visits, and only Esau the sexton
waitod with his lantern, to lock up the deserted house, and take
charge of the keys.

The last mournful tribute had been offered at the grave in
the churchyard where the beloved pastor slept serenely ; and
the cold leaden rain fell upon a mass of beautiful flowers,
which quite covered the mound that marked his dreamless
couch.

Since that farewell visit to her brother's tomb, Mrs. Lindsay
seemed to have lost her wonted fortitude and composure, and
was pacing the empty library, weeping bitterly — ^giving vent < j
the long-pent anguish, which daily duties and business details
had compelled her to restrain. |

Impotent to comfort, Regina stood by the mantelpiece, gaz-
ing vacantlv at the wood fire on the hearth, which'supplied only
a dim, fitful and uncertain light to the bare chill room — once
the most cosey and attractive in the whole cheerful house.

How utterly desolate every thing appeared now, — with only
the dreary monotone of the wintry rain on the roof, and the
occasional sob that fell from the black-robed figure walking to
and fro.

It had been such a happy, peaceful, blessed home, where
piety, charity, love, taste, refinement and education all loaned
their charms to the store of witchery, — which made it doubly
sad to realize that henceforth other feet would tread its floors,
other voices echo In its garden and verandahs.

To the girl who had really never known any other home,
(save the quiet convent courts), this Parsonage was the dearest
•pot she had yet learned to love ; and with profound sorrow
■he now prepared to bid adieu forever to the haven where he:
happiest years had passed like a rosy dream.

liie dreary deserted aspect of the hottM recalled to her
mmd:

1 . ** flow some they have died, and some they have left me
And some aie taken Irom me ; all ate departed—"

immwsmm

"■_♦

164

tnFsnoM,

of Charles Lamb's quaint tender, " Old familiar faces," — as full
of melanoholy pathos as human eyes brimming with unshed
tears ; and from it her thoughts gradually drifted to another
poem, which she had at first heard from Mr. Lindaay during
the week of his departure, and later from the sacred lips that
were now placidly smiling beneath the floral cross and crown
in the neighbouring chuichyard.

To-night the words recurred with the mournful iteration ol
some ddorous refrain ; and yielding to the spell, she leaned her
forehead against the ehimney-piece, and repeated them sadly
and slowly:

'* * We sat and talked nntil the night
* V, Descendine, tilled the little room ;

Oar faces faded from the light—

Onr voices only broke the gloom.
We spake of many a vanished scene, '[

Of what we once had thought and said, 'i

Of what had beer, and might have been, y

And who was changed, and who was dead} ;
And all ^hat fills the hearts of friends,

When first they feel with secret pain.
Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,

And never can be one again.
The very tones in which we spake

Had something strange, I could but n^ark } ,^-

Tho leaves of memory deemed to make '''''

A mournful rustling in the dark.' " -"^

Attracted by the rhythm, which softly beat upon the air
like some muffled prelude striking only minor chords, Mrs.
Lindsay came to the hearth, and with her arm resting on
the girl's shoulder, stood listening.

'' How dearly my Douglass loved those lines."

" And on the night before he died, Mr. Hargrove repeated
them, asking me afterward to select some sweet, solemn, «^
cred tune with an organ accompaniment, and sing them for
him. But what music is there that would suit a poem, whioh
henceforth will seem as holy as a Psalm to me f " '

" Perhaps after a while you and I may be able to quiet the
pain, and set it to some sweet old chant. Just now, our hearts
are too sore.''

*' After a while % What hope has after a while ? It can-
not bring back the lost ;~and does memory ever die 1 After
a while nas not given me my mother ; i^ter a while has not

''t

INFELICB.

ifaU
Bhed
tther
ring
that
'own

»n of
I her
adly

160

■I

air

fra.

ted

for
ich

bhe

rta

m-
ber

lot

!' i

taught me to forget hor, or made me more patient in my wait-
ing. After a while I know death will oome to na all, and
then there will be no more heartache ; — but I can't see that
there is any comfort in after a while, except beyond the
grave. Mrs. Lindsay, I do not wish to be wicked or rebel-
lious, but it seems very hard that I must leave this dear, quiet
home, and be separated from you and Mr. Lindsay, whom I
dearly love, — and go and live in a city, — with that cold, hard,
harsh, stem man, of whom I am so much afraid. He may
mean well, but he has such unkind wavs of showing it You
have no idea how dreadful the future looks to me.'*

She spoke drearily, and in the fitful flashes of the firelight,
the young face looked unnaturally stern.

''My dear child you must not despond; at your age one
must try to see only the bright side, if I expected to remain
in America, I would not give you up without a struggle ;
would beg your mother ut peiTuission to keep you until she
claimed you. But I shall nly wM, to learn that Douglass
has arranged for my arrival As -^u know, my sister and
brother-in-law are in Egypt, and n .1 were with them in Cairo,
I could hear more reguiarl>' «nd frequent 'v from my dear boy.
I wish I could keep you, (or you have grown deep into my
heart, — ^bnt my own future is too uncertfun to allow me to in-
volve any one else in my plans."

** I understand the circumstances, but if mother only knew
everything I believe she would not doom me to the care of
that man of stone. Oh ! If yon could only take me across the
ocean, and let me go to Venice to mother.'*

Mrs. Lindsay tightened her arm around the erect slender
figure, and gently stroked back the hair from her temples.

'* My dear, you paint your future guardian too grimly. Mr.
Palma is very reserved, rather haughty, and probably stem,
but notwithstAvdhig has a noble character I am told, and cer-
tainly appears much interested in, and kindly disposed toward
you. Dear Peyton liked him exceedingly, and Ms two letters
to me were full of generosity and kind sjrmpathy. As I be-
lieve T told you, his stepmother resides with him, and her
daughter Miss Neville, though a young lady, will be more of a
companion for you than the older members of the household.
Mr. Palma is one of the most eminent and popular lawyers in
New York, is very ambitious I have heard, — and at his house
yon will meet the best society of that great City, — by which I

;.w . 1 >M ■. ' •! ' iiX)Uiii\iiLui,, m

1«6

INFBLIOB.

mean the most coltivated, high-toned and aristocfatio people.
I am sorry that he has no religions views, habits or associa-
tions, as I inferred from the remarks of the lady whom I met
in Boston, and who seemed well acquainted with the Palma
household. She told me * none of that family had any religion,
though of course they kept a pew in the fashionable church.'
But, my dear little girl, I hope your principles and rules of life
are sufficiently established to preserve you from all free-think-
inj; tendencies. Oonstant attendance at church does not con-
stitute religion, any more than the bona fide pulpit means the
spiritual eospel ; but I have noticed that where genuine piety
exists, it is generally united with a recognition of church duties
and obhgations. The case of books I paeked and sent with
your trunks contains some very admirable, though old-fashioned,
works, written by such women as Hannah More, Mrs. Ghapone,
Mrs. Opie, and others, — to mould the character of girls and
instruct them in all that is requisite to make them noble, re-
fined, intelligent^ useful Ohristian women. Hannah More's
'Lucilla Stamey ' is one of the loveliest portraitures of female
excellence in the whole domain of literature, and you will find:
some of the passages marked to arrest your attention. In thiS;
age of rapid deviation from the standard rules that governed
feminine deportment and education when I was a girl, many
of the precepts and admonitions penned by the authors I have
mentioned are derided and repudiated as * puritanical/ * oki-
fashioned,' * strait-laced,' * stupid and prudisL,' but if these in-
deed be faults, certainly, in the light of modem innovations,
they appear ' to lean to virtue's side.' In fashionable society,
such as you are destined to meet at Mr. Palma's, you will find
many things that no doubt will impress you as strange, possi-
bly wrong ', but in all these matters consult the books I have
selected for you, read your Bible, pray regularly, and under all
circumstances hold fast to your principles. Question and listen
to your conscience, and no matter how keen the ridicule, or
severe the* condemnation to which your views may subject you,
stand firm. Moral cowardice is the inclined plane that leads
to the first step in sin. Be sure you are right, and then suffer
no persuasion or invective to influence you in questions in-
volving conscientious scruples You are young and peculiarly
isolated, therefore I have given you a letter to my valued old
friend, Mrs. Ma^jn, who will always advise you judiciously L
you will only consult her. I hope you will devote as much

INFXLIOM,

167

ien
or
fou,

time as possible to mnsie, for to one gifted with your rare
talent it will serve as a sieve, straining out every ignoble, dis-
coidant suggestion, and will help to keep your thoughts pure
and holy."

" I suppose there are wicked ways and wicked people eveiy-
where, and it is not the fashion, or the sinfulness that I am
afraid of in New York, but the loneliness I anticipate, I dread
being shut up between brick walls — ^no flowers, no grass, no
eowB — ^no biras — ^no chickens— none of the things I care for
most.

." But my dear child, you forget that you have entered upon
your fifteenth year, and as you grow older you will gradually lose
your inordinate fondness for pets. Your childish tastes Will
change as you approach womanhood."

** I hope not Why should they ) When I am an old woman
with^hite hair, spectacles, wrinkled cheeks and a ruffled muslin
cap like poor Hannah's, I expect to love pigeons and rabbits,
and all pretty white things— just as dearly as I do now. Speak-
ing of Hannah — ^how I shall miss her t Since she went away,
I shun the kitchen as much as possible— evervthing is so
changed, so sad. Oh I the dear, dear old dead-and-gon^ays —
will never, never come back to me."

For some time neither spoke. Mrs. Lindsay wept, the girl
only groaned in spirit ; and at length she said suddenly — ^like
one nerved for some painful task :

" When we separate at the Depot, you to take one trahi, and
I another-rwe may never meet again in this world, and I must
say something to you, which I could mention to no one else.
There is a cloud hanging over me. I have always lived in its
cold shadow, even here where there is or was so much to
make me happy-^and this mystery renders me unwUling to go
into the world of curious, harsh people, who will wonder and
question. .1 know that Orme is not my real name, but am
rorbidden to ask for information until I am grown. I have
full faith in my mother — I must believe that all she has
done is right — ^no matter how strange things seem ; but on
one point I must be satisfied. Is my mother s name Minnie t "

*' 1 cannot tell you, for it was the only secret dear Peyton
<3ver kept from me. lu speaking of her, he always called her
Mrs. Orme."

once

** Do you know anything about the loss of a valuable paper,
ce in Mr. Hargrove's possession t "

iSHi

168

INFELICS.

A great many years ago, before you came to live with us,
•ome one entered this roonii opened the secret drawer of Pey-
ton's writing desk, and carried off a tin box containing some
important papers."

" And suspicion rested on my mother ? ''

« My darlmg girl, who could have been so cruel, as to dis-
'tress you with such matters ? No one -"

Regina interrupted her, with an impatient motion of her
hand:

" Please answer my question. Truth is better than kind-
ness—is more to me than sympathy. Did not you and Mr.
Hargrove believe that mother took — stole that box ? "

" Fejrton never adibitted tome that he snspected her, though
some circumstances seemed to connect the disappearance of the
papers with her visit here, the night they were carried off.
He accused no one."

Begina was deeply moved, and her whole face quivered as she
answered :

« Oh ! how good — ^how truly charitable he was 1 I wonder
if in all the wide borders of America there are any more like
him t If I could only have told him the facts, and satisfied
him that my mother was innocent. But I waited until Hannah
could get away in peace, and before she was ready to start —
Ood had called him home. In heaven, of course he knows it
all now. I promised Hannah to tell no one but him, and
to defer the explanation until she was safe—entirely beyond
the reach of his displeasure ; but since you suspected my mother,
it is right that I should justify her in your estimation."

Very succintly she narrated what had occurred on the eve-
ning of the storm — and the incidents of the ensuing morning
when she followed Hannah into the churchyard. As she con-
cluded, an expression of relief and pleasure succeeded that of
astonishment which had rested on Mrs, Lindsay's worn and
faded face.

" I am heartily glad that at last the truth has been discov-
ered, and that it fully exonerates your mother from all connec-
tion with the theft ; for I confess the circumstances prejudiced
me against her. Let us be encouraged, my dear little girl, to
believe that, in due time, all the other mysteries will be quite
as satisfact^orily clearotd up."

'' I can't afford to doubt it ; if I did, — ^I should not be able
to "

INFEUOB.

1jS9

She paused, while an increasing pallor pyenpread her fea-
tures.

" That is right, dear, believe in her. We should drink and
live upon faith in our mothers — as we did their milk that
nourished us. When children lose faith in their mothers — ^God
pity both 1 Did you learn from Hannah the character of the
paper 1 **

" How could I question a servant concerning my mother's
secrets 9 I only learned that Mr. Hargrove had given to my
mother a copy of that which was burned by the lightning."

" In writing to her, did you mention the facts ) '

"I have not as yet. I doubted whether I ought to allude to
the subject, lest she should think I was intruding upon her
confidence."

" Dismiss that fear, and in your next letter acquaint her fully
with all you learned from poor Hannah ; it may materially in-
volve her interest or welfare. Now Regina I am about to say
something which you must not misinterpret, for my purpose is
to comfort you, to strengthen your confidence in your mother.
I do not know her real name, I never heard your father's men-
tioned, but this I do know, dear Peyton told me that in
this room he performed the marriage ceremony that made them
husband and wife. Why such profound secrecy was necessary,
your poor mother will some day explain to you. Until then,
be patient."

" Thank you, Mrs. Lindsay. It does eomfort me to know
that Mr. Hargrove was the minister who married them. Of
course it is no secret to you, that my mother is an actress 1 I
discovered it accidentally, for you know the papers were never
left in my way, and in sul her letters she alluded to her ' work
being successful,' but never mentioned what it was ; and I al-
ways imagined she was a musician giving concerts. But one
day last June, at the Sabbath-school Festival, Mrs. Potter
gave me a Boston paper, containing an article marked with
ink, which she said she wished me to read, because it would
edify a Sunday-school pupil. It was a letter from Italy, de-
scribing one ot the theatres there, where Mme. Odille Orme
was playing * Medea.* I cut out the letter, gave it to Mr.
Hargrove, and asked him if it meant my mother. He told me
it did, and advised me to enclose it to her when I wrote. But
I could not, I burned it. People look down on actresses, as
if they were wicked or degraded, and for a while it distressed

mtm

170

INFELIOS.

me very much indeed, but I know th^re must be good as well
as bad people in all professions. Since then, I have been more
anxious to become a perfect musician, so that before long I
can relieve mother from the necessity of working en the stage."

"It was wickedly malicious in Mra. Prudence to wound you ;
and we were all so anxious to shield you from every misgiving
on your mother's account. Some actresses have brought op-
probrium upon the profession, which certainly is rather dan-
gerous, and subjects women to suspicion and detraction ; but
let me assure you, Begina, that there have been very noble,
lovely, good ladies who made their bre :d exactly as your
mother makes hers. There is no more brilliant, enviable or
stainless record among gifted women, than that of Mrs. Sid-
dons ; or to come down to the present day, the world honours,
respects, and admires none more than Mme. Bistori or Miss
Cushman. Personal characteristics must decide a woman's
reputation, irrespective of the fact that she lives upon the
stajge ; and it is unjust that the faults of some should reflect
discreditably upon all in any profession. Individually I must
confess I am opposed to theatres and actresses, for I am the
widow of a minister, and have an inherited and a carefully edu-
cated prejudice against all such things ; but while I acknow-
ledge this fact, I dare not assert that some who pass their lives
before the footlights, may not be quite as conscientious and up-
right as I certainly try to be. I should grieve to see you on
the stage — yet should circumstances induce you to select it as a
profession — ^in the sight of God who alone can judge human
hearts, yon and your mother's chances of final acceptance and
rest with Christ might be as good, perhaps better than mine.
Let us 'judge not, lest wd be judged.* "

" The world has not your charity, but let it do its worst.
Gome what may, my mother is still my own mother, and God
will hold the scales and see that justice is done. Perhaps some
day we may follow you to India, and spend the remainder of
our lives in some cool quiet valley, under the shadow of the
rhododendrons on the Himalayan hills. Who knows what the
end may be % But no matter how far we wander, or where we
rest, we shall never find a home so sweet, so peaceful, so full oi
holy and happy associations, as this dear parsonage has been to

me.

The fire burned low, and in its dull flicker, the shadows
thickened ; while the rising wind sobbed and wailed, mournful

XNFBLICB.

171

as a coranach around the desolate old house, whence so many
generations had glided into the sheltering bosom of the adjoin-
ing necropolis.

Across the solemn gloomy stillness, ran the sharp shivering
sound of the door-bell, and when the jarring had ceased, Esau
entered with his lantern in his hand.

" The carriage is at the gate. The schedule was changed
last week, and the driver says it is nearly train time. Give
me the satchels and basket."

Slowly the two figures followed the lantern-bearer down the
dim bare hall, and the sound of the departing footsteps echoed
strangely, dismally through the empty forsaken house. At the
front door both paused and looked back into the darkness that
seemed like a vast tomb, swallowing everything, — engulfing all
the happy hallowed past.

But Eegina imagined that in the dusky library, by the wan
flicker of the dying fire, she could trace the spectral outline of
a white draped table, and of a tall prostrate form bearing a
Grand Duke jasmine in'^its icy hand. Shuddering violently,
she wrapped her shawl around her and sprang down the steps,
into the drizzling rain ; while Mrs. Lindsay slowly followed,
weeping silently.

" Were it mine I would dose the shutten.
Like lids when the life is fled,
And the funeral fire should wind it.
This corpse of a home that is dead."

CHAPTER XIII.

mE snow was falling fast next morning, when with a
long hoarse shriek the locomotive dashed into New York,
i*^mf^ aiid drew up to the platform, where a crowd of human
^^ ^ beings and equipages of every description bad assembled
' «nfcr to greet the arrival of the train.

The din of voices, ringing of bells, whistle of engines, and all
the varied notes of that Babel diapason, that so utterly be-

"""iBiMi

172

INFELICB.

wilders the stranger stranded on the bustling streets of busy
Gotham, fell upon Kegina's ears with the startling force of
novelty. She wondered if there were thunder mixed with
swiftly falling snow, — that low dull ceaseless roar, — that endless
monologue of the paved streets, where iron and steel ground
down the stone highways, along which the Juggernaut of
Traffic rolled ponderoc^ly, day in, and day out 1

Gazing curiously down from her window, at the sea of faces,
wherein cabmen, omnibus drivers, porters, vociferated and ges-
ticulated, each striving to tower above his neighbour, like the
tame vipers in the Egyptian pitcher, whereof Teufelsdrockh
discourses in Sartor Eesartus, — Eegina made no attempt to
leave her seat until the courteous conductor to whose care Mrs.
Lindsay had consigned her, touched her arm to arrest her at-
tention.

" You are Miss Orme, I believe, and here is the gentleman who
came to meet you."

Turning ({uickly, with the expectation of seeing Mr. Palma,
she found herself in the presence of an elegantly dresHied young
gentleman, not more than twenty-two or three years old, who
wore ample hay-coloured whiskers brushed in English style,
after the similitude of the fins of a fish or the wings of a bat.
A long moustache of the same colour drooped over a mouth
feminine in mould, and as he lifted his. brown fur cap and
bowed, she saw that his light hair was parted in the middle of
his head.

He handed her a card on which was printed : " Elliott
Roscoe."

" Begina Orme, I presume. My cousin, Mr. Palma, desired
me to meet you at the train, and see you safely to his house,
as he is not in the city. I guess you had a tiresome trip ;
you look worn-out. Have you the checks for your baggage 1 "

She handed them V> him, took her satchel, and followed him
out of the car, through the dense throng, to a coup4.

The driver, whose handsome blue cloak with its glittering
gilt buttons was abundantly embroidered with snow-flakes,
opened the door, and as Mr. Eoscoe assisted the stranger to
enter, he said : ^

•' Wait, Farley, until I look after the baggage."

" Yonder is O'Brien with his express waggon. Give him
the checks, and he will have the trunks at home almost as soon
as we get there. Michael O'Brien 1 "

■HHinlM

iV^

tNFELIOE,

173

As the ruddy, beaming, pleasant countenance of the express
man approached, and he ^received the checks, Mr. Koscoe
sprang into the carriage, but Eegina summoned courage to
speak.
• " If you please, I want my dog."

"Your dog I Did you leave it in the cart Is it a
poodle 1 "

" Poodle ! He is a Newfoundland, and the express agent
has him."

** Then O'Brien will bring him with the trunks," said Mr.
Boscoe, preparing to close the door.

" I would not Tike to leave him behind."

" You certainly do not expect to carry him in the carriage 1 "
answered *-'' e gentleman, staring at her as if she had been a
refugee from some insane asylum.

" Why not 1 There seems plenty of room. I am so much
afraid something might happen to him, among all these peo-
ple. But perhaps you would not like him shut up in the car-
riage." •

For an instant she seemed sorely embarrassed, then leaning
forward addressed the coachman.

" Would you mind taking my dog up there with you % I
shall thank you very much if you will please be so kind."

Before the wistful pleading of the violet eyes, and the sweet
tones of the hesitating voice, the surly expression vanished
from Farley's countenance, and touching his hat, he replied
cheerfully :

" Aye, Miss, if he is not venomous I will take him along."

" Thank you. Mr. Roscoe, if you will be so good as to go
with me to the express car, I can get my dog."

" That is not necessary. Besides it is snowing hard, and
your wraps are not very heavy. Give me the receipt and I
will bring him out."

There was some delay, but after a little while Mr. Boscoe
came back, leading Hero by a chain attached to his collar.
The dog looked sulky and followed reluctantly, but at sight of
his mistress sprang forward, barking joyfully.

" Poor Hero ! poor fellow ! Here I am."

When he had been prevailed upon to jump up beside the
driver, and the carriage rolled homeward, Mr. Roscoe said :

" That is a superb creature. The only pure white New-
foundland I ever saw. Where did you get him 1 "

174

tNFBLtCE.

" He was bought in Brooklyn leveral years ago, and sent to
me."

** What is his name )"

"Hero."

" How very odd. Bruno, or Nero, or Ponto, or even Fido,
would be so much more suitable."

" Hero suits him, and suits me."

Mr. Roseoe looked curiously into the face beside him, and
laughed.

" I presume you are a very romantic young Miss, and have
been dreaming about some rustic Leander in round jacket."

" My dog was not called after the priestess at Sestos. It
means hero the common noun, not Hero the proper name.
Holding torches to guide people across the Hellespont, was not
heroism."

If she had addressed him in Aramaic, he would not have
been more surprised ; and for a moment he stared.

" I am afraid your Hero will not prove a thoroughly wel-
come addition to my cousin's household. He has no fondness
whatever for dogs, or indeed for pets of any kind, and Mrs.
Palma who has a chronic terror of hydrophobia, will not permit
a dog to come near her."

He saw something like a smile flicker across the girl's mouth,
but she did not look up, and merely asked :

« Where is Mr. Palma 1"

" He was unexpectedly called to Philadelphia two days ago,
on urgent business. Do you know him f "

*' I have not seen him for several years."

She turned away, fixing her attention upon the various
objects of interest that flitted by, as they rolled rapidly along
one of the principal streets. The young gentleman who in no
respect resembled Mr. Palma, found it exceedingly pleasant to
study the fair delicate face beside him, and not a detail of her
dress, from the shape of her hat, to the fit of her kid gloves,
escaped his critical inspection.

Almost faultily fastidious in his Broadway trained tastes, he
arrived at the conclusion that she possessed more absolute
beauty than any one in his wide circle of acquaintance ; but
her travelling suit was not cut in the approved reigning style,
and the bow of ribbon at her throat did not exactly harmonize
with the shade of the feather in her hat, all of which iarred
disagreeably.

Biiliiliai

INFBLICB.

175

As the carriage entered Fifth Avenue, and drew up before
one of the handsome brown-stone front mansions, that stretch
like palatial walls — for miles along that most regal and ma^>;ni-
ficent of American streets, Mr. Roscoe handed his compannji
out, and rang the bell.

Hero leaped to the sidewalk, and patting his head, Regina
said,:

" Driver, I am very much obliged to you for taking care of
him for me."

"You are quite welcome, Miss. He is an uncommon line
brute, and I will attend to him for you if you wish it. "

The door opened, and Regina was ushered in, and conducted
by Mr. Roscoe into the sitting-room, where a blazing coal-fire
lent pleasant warmth and a ruddy glow to the elegantly fur-
nished apaitment.

" Terry, tell the ladies we have come."

The servant disappeared, and holding his hands over the fire,
Mr. Roscoe said :

" I believe you are a stranger to all but my cousin ; yet you
are probably aware that his step-mother and her daughter re-
side with him."

Before she could reply, the door suddenly opened wide, as if
moved by an impatient hand, and a middle-aged lady dressed
in black silk that rustled proudly at every step, advanced
toward Regina. Involuntarily the girl shivered, as if an icy
East wind had blown upon her.

" Mrs. Palma, I have brought this young lady safely, and
transfer her to your care. This is Regina Orme."

" Miss Orme has arrived on a cold day, and looks if she re-
alized it."

She put out her hand, barely touched the fingers of the
stranger, and her keen, probing, inquisitorial eyes of palest
gray wandered searchingly over the face and figure ; while her
haughty tone was chill as the damp breath of a vault.

Catching sight of Hero, she started back, and exclaimed with
undisguised displeasure :

" What ! a dog in my sitting-room ? Who brought that
animal here ) "

Regina laid a protecting hand on the head of her favourite,
and said timidly, in a voice that faltered from embarrassment :

" It is my dog. Please, Madam, allow me to keep him ; he
will disturb no one ; shall give no trouble."

176

INFELIOB.

** Impossible I Dogs are my pet aversion. I would not even
allow my dauehter to accept a lovely Italian greyhound, which
Count Fagdalini sent her on her last birthday. That huge
brute there, would give me hysterics before dinner time."

" Then you shall not see him. I will keep him always out
of sight ; he shall never annoy you."

" Very feasible in a Fifth Avenue house ! Do you propose
to lock him up always in your own chamber f How absurd I "
She touched the bell, and added :

" It always saves trouble, to start eitactly as we expect or
intend to continue. I cannot endure dogs, never could, and
yours must be disposed of at once."

Pityingthe distress, so eloquently printed on the face of the
girl, Mr. Roscoe interposed :

" Strike, but hear me ! Don't banish the poor fellow so sum-
marily. He can't go mad before May or June, if then, — and at
least let her keep him a l^w days. She feels strange and lonely
«iud it will comfort her to have him for a while."

" Nonsense, Elliott ? Terry tell Farley I shall want the
carriage in half an hour, and meantime ask him to come here
and help you take out this dog. We have no room for any
such pests. Send Hattie to show this young lady to her own
room."

Mr. Roscoe shrugged his shoulder, and closely inspected his
seal ring.

There was an awkward silence. Mrs. Palma stirred the coals
with the poker, and at last asked abruptly :
" Miss Orme, I presume you have breakfasted 1 ''
" I do not wish any, thank you."

Something in her quiot tone attracted attention, and as
the. lady and gentleman turn^i^ to look at her, both noti'^'^d a
brilliant flush on her cheek, a peculiar sparkle dancing in her
eyes.

Passing her arm through the handle of her satchel, she put
both her hands upon Hero's silver collar.

" Hattie will show you up to your room, Miss Orme, and if
you need anything call upon her for it. Farley take that dog
away, and do not let me see him here again."

The blunt but kind-hearted coachman looked irresolute,
glancing first at his mistress, and then pityingly at the girl. As
he advanced to obey, Regina said in a quiet but clear and de-
cisiye tone ; ■ *

INFELIOE.

1T7

"Don't yon touch him. He is mine, and no one shall take
him from me. I am sorry Mrs. Palma that I have annoyed you
so much, i^nd I have no right to force unpleasant things upon
you, even if I had the power. Come Hero : we will find a
place somewhere ; New York is large enough to hold us both.
Good-by, Mr. Roscoe. Good-day, Mrs. Palma."

She walked toward the door, leading Hero, who rubbed his
head caressingly against her.

" Where are you going 1 " cried Mr. Roscoe following, and
catching her arm.

"Anywhere — away from this house," she answered very
quietly.

" But Mr. Paiina is your guardian ! He will be dreadfully
displeased."

'*He has no right to be displeased with me. Beside, I
would not for forty guardians give up my Hero. Please stand
aside, and let me pass."

" Tell me first, what you intend to do."

" First to get out, where the air is free. Then to find the
house of a lady, to whom I have a letter of introduction, from
Mrs. Lindsay."

Mrs. Palma was sorely perplexed, and though she trembled
with excess of anger and chagrin, a politic regard for her own
future welfare, which was contingent upon the maintenance of
peaceful relations with her step-son. impelled her to concede
what otherwise she would never have yielded. Stepping for-
ward she said with undisguised scorn :

" If this is a sample of his ward's temper, I fear Erie has
assumed guardianship of Tartary. As Miss Orme is a total
stranger in New York, it is sheer madness to talk of leaving
here. This is Erie Palma's house, not mine — else I should
not hesitate a moment ; but under the circumstances I shall in-
sist upon t^iis girl remaining here at least until his return, which
must be very soon. Then the dog question will be speedily
decided by the maater of the establishment."

" Let us try and compromise. Suppose you trust your pet
to me for a few days, until matters can be lettled 1 I like dogs,
and promise to take good care of yours, and feed him on game
and chicken soup."

He attempted to put his hand on the collar, but Hero who
seemed to comprehend that he was a cas'iis bellif growled and
showed his teeth.

" Thank you, Sir, but we have only each other now. Mr?

178

INWEUOE.

Palma, I do not with to annoy or di turb you in any way, and
aa I love my dog very much — a»'^I . ou have no room for him,
I would much rather go away Ms *. unC: 1 avo you in peace.
Please, Mr. Roscoe, let me pass."

" I can fix things to suit all round — if M.julam will permit,"
said the coachman.

" Well Farley — what is your proposition 1 "

His mistress was biting her lip, from mortification and ill>
concealed rage.

" I will make a kennel in the comer of the carriage-house,
where he can be chained up, and vet have room to stretch him-
self ; and the young Miss can feed him, and see him as often as
she likes, till matters are better settled."

''Very well. Attend to it at once. I hope Miss Orme is
satisfied 7 "

"No— I do not wish to give so much trouble to you alL"

" Oh Miss ! it is no trouble worth speaking of ; and if von
will only trust me, I will see that no harm happens to him.

For a moment Regina looked up at the honest open, though
somewhat harsh, Hibernian face, then advanced and laid the
chain in his hand.

" Thank you very much. I will trust you. Be kind to him,
and let me come and see him after awhile. I don't wish him
ever to come into the house again."

" The baggage-man has brought the trunks," said Terry.

" Have them taken upstairs. Would you like to go to your
room, Miss Orme ? "

'' If you please. Madam."

" Then I must bid you good-bye," said Mr. Roscoe, holding
out his hand.

"Do you not live here 9 "

" Oh, no I I am only a student in my cousin's law-ofiice —
but come here very often. I hope the dog-war is amicably set-
tled ; but if hostilities are reopened, and you ever make up your
mind to give Hero away, please remember that I am first candi-
date for his ownership."

"I would almost «as soon think of giving away my head.
Good-bye, Sir."

As she turned to follow the servant out oi the room, she ran
against a young lady, who hastily entered, singing a bar from
« Traviata."
" Bless me ! I beg your pardon. This is " — i

^* |iiis8 Orme ^—Erie's ward."

(
t
I

8
V

JNFEUOE.

179

** MiM Orme doei not appear supremelv happy at the pros-
pect of sojourning with us, beneath this hospitable roof.
Mamma, I understand you have had a regular Austerlitz battle
over that magnificent dog I met in the hall — and alas ! victory
perched upon the standard of the invading enemy ! Cheer up,
Mamma ! there is a patent medicine just advertised in the
Herald that hunts down, worries, shakes and strangles hydro-
phobia — as Gustave Dillon's Skye terrier does rats. Good
morning, Mr. Elliott Roscoe ! Poor Miss Orme looks strik-
ingly like a half-famished and wholly hopeless statue of
Patience, that I saw on a monument, at the last funeral I at*
tended in Greenwood. Hattie, do take her to her room, and
give her some hot chocolate, or cofifee, or whatever she
drinks."

She had taken both the stranger's hands, shook 4hem
rather roughly, and in conclusion pushed her towardis the
door.

Olga Neville was twenty-two, tall, finely formed, rather
handsome, with unusually bright, reddish, hazel eyes, and a

Profusion of tawny hair, which nine persons in ten would un-
esitatingly have pronounced red, but which she persisteritly
asserted was of exactly the classic shade of ruddy gold that
the Borgia gave to Berabo. Her features were large and some-
what irregular in contour, but her complexion was brilliant, her
carriage very graceful, and though one might safely predict
that at some distant day she would prove " fair, fat and
forty," her full figure had not yet transgressed the laws of
symmetry.

As the door of the sitting-room closed she put her large
white hands on her mother's shoulders, shook her a little, and
kissed her on the cheek.

" Do, Mamma, let us have fair play, or I shall desert to the
enemy. It was not right to open your batteries on that little
thing before she got well into position and established her line.
If I am any judge of human nature, I rather guess from the set
of her lips and the stars that danced up and down in her eyes,
that she is not quite as easily flanked as a pawn on a chess-
board."

'' I wish, Olga, that you were a better judge of common
sense, and of the courtesy due to my opinions. I can tell you
we are likely to see trouble enough with this high-tempered
girl added to the family circle."

ISO

INFELIOE.

^^ Why, she has not Lucretia-coloured tresses, like my own
lovely spun-gold 1 I thought her hair looked very black."

** I will warrant it is not half as black as her disposition.
She looked absolutely diabolical when she pretended to march
out into the world, playing the rdle of injured, persecuted

»»

innocence.

" Now, Mamma ! She is decidedly the prettiest piece
diabolism I ever saw. Elliott, what do you think of her 1 "

"That some day she will be a most astonishing beauty.
Can you recollect that lovely green and white cameo pin set
with diamonds that Tiffany had kst spring? Ned Bartlett
bought it for his wife the day they started to Saratoga. Well,
this girl is exactly like that exquisite white cameo head ; I
noticed the likeness as soon as I saw her. But she needs
polish— city training, society marks — and her clothes are at
ledst fwo seasons old in style. I think, too, your mother is
quite right in believing she has a will of her own. She was
really in earnest, and would have walked out if Farley had not
come to the rescue. Olga, what are you laughing at \ "

//I am anticipating the sport in store for me when iier will
and Erie Palma's comes in conflict. Won't the sparks fly I
We shall have a domestic shower of meteors to enliven our
daily dull routine ! You know the stately and august head of
this establishment savours of Fitz- James, and in all matters of
controversy acts fully out what Scott only dreamed :

' Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly
From its firm base, as soon as I ! '

I daresay it is his terrapin habit that Kelps Erie Falma to his
great success as a lawyer ; when he once takes hold, he never
lets go. Now, Mamma, if you do not hoist a white flag, as lar
as that poor girl is concerned, I shall certainly ask your wary
step-son to give her a sprig of phryxa from Mount Brixaba.
Do you understand, Elliott ? "

" Of course not. I rarely do understand you when you
begin your spiteful challenges. Now, Olga, I always preserve
an unarmed neutrality, so do let me alone." i

He made a deprecating gesture, and put on his hat. '

" Free schools and universal education is one of my spavined
hobbies, and a brief canter, for your improvement in classic
lore^ would be cL writable, so I proceed ; Agatho, the Samian,

f
t
fi
u

hj
to

INFELICE,

181

says that in the Scythian Brixaba grows the herb phryza (hat-
ing the wicked), which especially protects step-children ; and
whenever they are in danger from a step-mother — (observe the
antiquity of Step-Motherly characteristics !) — ^the phryxa giyes
them warning by emitting a bright flame. You see Erie Palma
remembers his classics, and early in life turned his attention
to the cultivation of phryxa, which flourishes "

" Olga, you vex me beyond endurance. Put on your furs
at once ; it is time to go to the Studio. Elliott, will you ride
down with us and look at the portrait? "

" Thanks ! I wish I could, but promised to write out some
legal references before my cousin returns, and must keep my
word ; for you very well know he . has scant mercy on
delinquents.'!

'' I only hope he will bring his usual iron rule to bear upon
this new element in the household, else her impertinent self-
assertion will be unendurable. Will you be at Mrs. Delafield's
Reception to-night 1"

" I promised to attend. Suppose I call for you and Olga
about nine?"

" Quite agreeable to all parties. I shall expect you. Good
morning."

When Begin a left the sitting-room, she followed the house-
maid up two flights of steps, and into a small but beautifully
furnished apartment, where a fire was not really necessary, as
the house was heated by a furnace, still the absence of the cheer-
ful red light she had left below made this room seem chill and
uninviting.

The trunks had been brought up, and after lowering the
curtain of the window that looked down on the beautiful
Avenue, Hattie said :

" Will you have tea, coflFee or chocolate % "

" Neither, I thank you."

" Have you had any breakfast ? "

" I do not want any."

" It is no trouble, Miss, to get what you like."

Eegina only shook her head, and proceeded to take oft' her
hat and wrappings.

** Are you an orphan J " queried Hattie, her heart warming
toward a stranger who avoided giving trouble.

" No, but my mother is in is too far for me to go to

her."

" Then, you ar'n't here on charity 1 "

fSBS

182

I^JfJSLWE.

" Charity ! No, indeed ! Mr. Palma is my guardiau until
I go to my mother."

** Well, Miss, try to be contented. Miss Olga has a kinder
heart than her mother, and though she has a bitter tongue and
rough ways, she will befriend you. Don't fret about your dog,
we folks below stairs will see that he does not suffer. We wUl
help you take care of him."

"Thank you, Hattie. I shall be grateful to all who are
kind to him. Please, give him some water and a piece of
bread when you go down."

It was a great relief to find herself once more alone, and
sinking down wearily into a rooking-chair, she hid her face in
her hands.

Her heart was heavy, her head ached ; her soul rose in re-
bellion against; the cold selfishness and discourtesy that had
characterized her reception by the inmates of her Guardian's
house.

Everything around her betokened wealth, taste, elegance ;
the carpets and various articles of furniture were of the most
costly materials, but at the thought of living here she shud-
dered. Fine and fashionable in all its appointments, but chilly,
empty, surface-gilded, she felt that she would stifle in this
mansion.

By comparison, how dear and sacred seemed the old life at
the Parsonage, — how desolate and dreary the present, — how
inexpressibly lonesome and hopeless the future !

From the thought of Mr. Palma's return she could borrow
no pleasant auguries, rather additional gloom and apprehen-
sion ; and his absence had really been the sole redeeming cir-
cumstance that marked her arrival in New York. With an
unconquerable dread which arose from early childish prejudice,
and which she never attempted to analyze, she shrank from
meeting him.

There came a quick low tap on the door, but she neither
heard nor heeded it, and started when a warm hand removed
those that covered her face.

" Just as I expected, you are having a good cry all to your-
self. No — your eyes are dry and bright as stars. I daresay
you have set us all down as a family of brutes ; — as more cruel
than the Piutes or Modocs — as stony hearted as Solomon, when
he ordered the poor little baby to be cut in half and distributed
among its several mothers. But there is so little justice left in

mmf.

INFELICE.

183

the world, that T imagine each individual would do well to con-
tribute a moiety to the awfully slender public stock. Suppose
you pay tithes' to the extent of counting me out of this nest of
persecutors % Thank heaven I I am not a Palma ! My soul
does not work like the piston of a steam-engine — is not regu-
lated by a gauge-cock and safety-valve to prevent all explosions
— ^to keep the even, steady, decorous, profitable tenor of its
sternly politic way. I am a Neville. The blood in my veins
is not * blue ' like the Palma's — but red — and hot enough to
keep my heart from freezing, as the Palma's do — and to melt
the ice they manufacture, wherever they breathe. I am no
Don Quixote to redress your grievances, or storm wind-mills ;
— for verily neither mamma nor Erie Palma belongs to that
class of harmless innocuous bugaboos — as those will find to
their cost, who run against them. I am simply Olga Ne-
ville, almost twenty-three, and quite willing to help you if
possible. Shall we enter into an alliance — offensive and de-
fensive ? "

She stood by the mantel-piece, slowly buttoning her glove,
an# looked quite handsome, and very elegant in her rich wine-
coloured silk and costly furs.

Looking up into her face, Eegina wondered how far she might
trust that apparently frank open countenance, and Olga smiled
and added :

" You are a cunning fledgling, not to be caught with chafT.
Have they sent you anything to eat ] "

" I declined hprlng anything. My head aches."
" Then do as I tell you, and you will soon feel relieved.
There is a bath-rooi' on this floor. Ring for Hattie, and tell
her you want a gocl iiot bath. When you have taken it, lie
down and go to 3.eep. One word before I go. Do try not to
be hard on Mamma. Poor Mamma! she married among
these Palmas, cuid very soon from force of habit, and associa-
tion, she too grew politic, cautious — finally she also froze — and
has never quite thawed again. She is not unkind — you must
not think so, tor an instant ; she only keeps her blood down to
the safe, wise, prudent temperature of sherbet. Poor Mamma !
She does not like dogs ; once she was dreadfully bitten — almost
torn to pieces by one, and very naturally she has developed no
remarkable * afiinity ' for them since that episode. Hattie will
get you anything you need. Tdke your bath and go to sleep —
and dream good-natured thing::, about Mamma."

184

INFELICE.

She nodded, smiled pleasantly, and glided away as noise-
lessly as she came, leaving Regina perplexed, and nowise
encouraged with reference to the stern cold character of h^r
guardian.

She had eaten nothing since the previous day — ^had been un-
able to close her eyes after bidding Mrs. Lindsay farewell ; and
now quite overcome with the reaction from the painful excite-
ment of yesterday's incidents, she threw herself across the foot
of the bed, and clasped her hands over her throbbing temples.
No sound disturbed her, save the occasional roll of wheels on
the street below, &.nd very soon the long lashes drooped, and
she slept — the heavy, deep sleep of mental and physical
exhaustion.

CHAPTER XIV.

lED by poppy-wreathed wands, through those fabled
ivory gates that open into the enchanted realm of
dreams, the weary girl forgot her woes, and found
blessed re-union with the absent dear ones, whose loss
had so beclouded the morning of her life.
Under the burning sun of India, through the tangled jungles
of Oude, she wandered in quci^t of the young missionary and
his mother, — now springing away from the crouching tigers
that glared at her as she passed ; now darting into some Hima-
layan cavern to escape the wild ferocious eyes of Nana Sahib,
who offered her that wonderful lost ruby that he carried off in
his flight, and when she seized it, hoping its sale would build a
church for mission worship, it dissolved into blood that stained
her fingers. With a fiendish laugh Nana Sahib told her it was
a part of the heart of a beautiful woman butchered in the
" House of Massacre " at Oawnpore. On and on she pressed,
footsore and weary, but undaunted, through those awful moun-
tain solitudes, and finally hearing in the distance the bark ol
Hero, she followed the sound, reached the banks of Jumna,
and there amid the ripple of fountains, and the sighing of the
cypress, — in the cool shadow cast by the marble minarets and

-T^^iassnufis^aam

iimmwV,

INFELICS.

180

i'l

domes of Shah Jehan's Moomtaj mausoleum, — Mr. and Mrs.
Lindsay joyfully welcomed her ; while upon the fragrant air
floated divine melodies that Douglass told her were chanted by
angels in her mother's grave, beneath the clustering white
columns.

When after many hours she awoke, it was night. A faint
light trembled in one of the globes of the gas chandelier, and a
blanket had been laid over her. Starting up, she saw a figure
sitting at the window, apparently watching what passed in the
street below.

" I hope you feel refreshed. I can testify you have slept as
soundly as the youths whom Decius put to bed some time since
near Ephesus."

Olga rose, turned on the gas that flamed up instantly, and
showed her elaborately dressed in evening toilette. Her
shoulders and arms — round and pearly white— were bare save
the shining tracery of jewels in necklace and bracelets ; and in
the long train of blue silk that flowed over the carpet, she
looked even taller than in the morning walking suit. Her
ruddy hair heaped high on her head, was surmounted by a
jewelled comb, whence fell a cataract of curia of various lengths
and sizes, that touched the filmy lace which bordered her
shoulders like a line of foam where blue silk broke on dimpled
flesh.

As Begin a gazed admiringly at her, Olga came closer, and
stood under the gas-light.

"A penny for your thoughts I Am I handsome f Some-
body says only * fools and children tell the truth.' You are not
exactly tb<i latter ; certainly not the former ; nevertheless being
a rustic, all unversed in the fashionable accomplishment of
' fibbing,' ycu may dispense with the varnish pot and brush.
Tell me Kegina, don't you feel inclined to fall at my feet and
worship me ? "

" Not in the least. But I do think you very handsome, and
your dress is quite lovely. Are you going to a party or a
ball ? "

** To a * Keception,' where the people will be crowded like
sardines, where my puflfs will be mashed as flat as buckwheat
cakes, and my train will go home with various gentlemen,
clinging in scraps to their boot-heels ! Were you ever at tl e
sea-shore 1 If you have ever chanced to walk into a settlemejt
of fiudlers, and seen them squirming, wriggling, backward, for-

" r .^, iyi» )i!» i

186

INFEUCE.

ward, sideways->you may understand that I am going into a
similar promiscuous scramble. Human ingenuity is vastly fer-
tile in the production of fashionable tortures ; and when that
outraged and indignant poet savagely asserted, that < Man's in-
humanity to man makes countless thousands mourn/ — I have
an abiding conviction that he had just been victimized at a Re-
ception,' or ' German,' or Kettle-drum,' or < Masque Bidl,'— or
some such fine occasion, where people are amused by treading
on each other's toes, and gnawing (metaphoricaUy,) their near-
est neighbour's vertebrae."

" Do you not enjoy going into society % "

" Cda depend t Ton are an unsophisticated little package of
innocent rusticity, and have yet to learn :

** Society is now one ]aolished horde^
Formed of two laighty tribes.
The Bores, and Boied V'

I speak advisedly, for lo these four years 1 I have energeti-
cally preyed, and been preyed upon. When I was your age,
I was impatient to break away from my governess, and soar
into the flowery pastures of fashionable gayety, with the crowd
of other butterflies that seemed 3o happy, so lovely ; but now
that I have bruised my pretty wings, and tarnished the gilding,
and rubbed off the fresh enamelling, I would if I could, crawl
back into a safe brown cocoon, or hide in some quiet and for-
gotten chrysalis. Did you ever hear of Moloch 1 "

" Yes, of course ; I know it was a brazen image, heated red
hot, in whose arms children were placed by idolatrous heathen
parents.''

" No such thing ! that is a foolish obsolete Rabbinical myth.
You must not talk such old-fashioned folly. Hearken to the
solemn truth that underlies that fable ; Moloch reigns here, in
far more pomp and splendour than the Ammonites ever dreamed
0*. Crowned and sceptred, he is now called * Wealth and
Fashion,' hrMs daily festivals and nightly orgies, where salads,
boned turkeys, charlotte russe, pistachio souffds, creams, ices,
champagne-julep, champagne frappi^ andpersicot call the multi-
tude to worship ; and there while the stirring notes of Strauss
ring above the sighs and groans of the heroic victims, fathers
and mothers bring their sons and daughters bravely decked in
broadcloth and satin, white kid and diamonds, and ofier them

<^m

pi^

INFELICB.

187

into a
ily fer-

that
Ikn's in-

have
fc a Re-
1,'— or
'eading

ntar-

kage of

nergeti-
)ur age,
nd soar
le crowd
3ut now
gildiPg,
id, crawl
and for-

ated red
heatheu

al myth,
a to the
here, in
dreamed
silth and
e salads,
ms, ices,
le multi-
' Strauss
I, fathers
ecked in
ier them

s5|i

I n

in sacrifice ; and Moloch clasps, scorches, blackens all 1 Wide
wonderful blue eyes — how shocked yon look !"

Olga laughed lightly, shook out the fringed ends of her broad
white silk sash, and glanced in the mirror of the bureau, to see
the effect.

" Regina don't begin City life by a system of starvation that
would do infinite credit to a Thebaid anchorite. Eat abun-
dantly. Take generous care of your body, for spiritual famine
is ineyitably ahead of you. Yonder on the table, carefully
covered, is yOur dinner. Of course it is cold ; stone-cold as
this world's charity, but people who sleep until eight o'clock,
ought not to expect smoking hot viands. A good meal gives
one far more real philosophy and fortitude, than all the volumes
Aristotle and Plato ever wrote. Do you hear that bell 1 It
is a signal to attend the festival of Milcom. — Oh Mammon ! be-
hold I come."

She move4 toward the door, and said from the threshold :

" I say unto you — eat. Then come down stairs and amuse
yourself looking about the house. There are some interesting
thi .>^s in the parlours, and if you are musical, you will find a
piano that cost one thousand dollars. When I am away, there
are no skeletons in this house, so you need not fear sleeping
here alone. My room is on the same floor. Good-night."

Refreshed by her sound sleep, Regina bathed her face, re-
arranged her hair, and ate the dinner, which although cold, was
very temptingly prepared. When Hattie came to carry down
the silver tray containing the delicate green and golden china
dishes, she complimented the stranger upon the improvement
in her appearance ; adding :

" Miss Olga directed me to sltOW you the house, and any-
thing you might' like to look at, so I lighted the parlours and
reception room ; .ind the library always has a fire, and the
gas burning. That is next to Mr. Palma's bed-room, and is
his special place, lie comes and goes so irregularly that we
never can tell when he is in it. Once last year he got home at
nine o'clock, unexpectedly, and sat up all night writing there
in the cold. Next morning he gave orders for fire and light in
that room, whether he was at home or not. Miss, if you don't
mind looking about by yourself, I should like to run around to
Eighth Avenue, for a few minutes, to see my sick aunt. Terry
has gone out, and Mary promised to answer the bell, if any
one called. Farley says be easy about your dog j he had a

188

INFELIOE.

hearty dinner of soup and meat, and is on a softer bed, than
some poor souls lie on to-night. Can I go 1 "

" Certainly, I am not afraid ; and when I get sleepy I will
come up and go to bed. When will Mrs. Palma and Miss
Neville come home 1 "

" Not before midnight, if then."

She explained to Reeina how to elevate and extinguish the
gas, and the two went down to the sitting-room, whence Hattie
soon disappeared. Raising the silk curtain that divided this
apartment from the parlours, Regina walked slowly up and down
upon the velvet carpet in which her feet seemed to sink, as on
a bed of moss ; and her eyes wandered admiringly over the
gilded stands, gleaming bronzes, marble statuettes, papier
mach^, ormolu, silk, lace, brocatel, moquette, satin and silver,
which attracted her gaze.

Beautiful pictures adorned the tinted walls, and the ceiling
was brilliantly frescoed, while one of the wide bay-windows con-
tained a stand filled with a superb array of wax-flowers. Re-
fina opened the elegant grand piano, but forbore to touch the
eys, and at last when she had feasted her eyes sufficienily
upon some lovely landscapes by Gifford and Bierstadt, she
quitted the richly-decorated parlours, and slowly went up the
stairs that led to the room which Hattie had pointed out as
Mr. Falma's library.

Leaving the door partly open, she entered a long lofty apart-
ment, the floor of which was of marquetry, polished almost as
glass, with furred robes laid here and there before tables, and
de«^ luxurious easy-chairs.

Four spacious lines of book shelves, with glass doors bearing
silver handles, girded the sides of the room, and the walls were
painted in imitation of the Pompeian style ; while the corners
of the ceiling held lovely frescos of the seasons, and in the
centre was a zodiac. Bronze and marble busts shone here and
there, and where the panels of the wall were divided by repre-
sentations of columns, metal brackets and wooden consoles
sustained delicate figures and groups of sculpture.

Filled with wonder and delight, the girl glided across the
shining mosaic floor, gazing now at the glowing garlands and
winged figures on the wall, and now at the elegantly bound
books, whose gilded titles gleamed through the plate glass.

She had read of such rooms in •* St. Martin s Summer" a
^'^olume Mrs. Lindsay never tired of quoting, but this exqui-

ISFMUOE.

189

site reality tranicended all her previooa flights of imagination,
and approaching the bright coal fire, she basked in the genial
glow — in the atmosphere of taste, culture, and rare luxury. A
quaint clock inlaid with designs in malachite, ticked drowsily
upon the low black marble mantle, which represented winged
lions bearing up the slab, and near the hearth was an ebony
and gold escritoire which stood open, revealing a bronze ink-
stand and velvet penwiper. Before it sat the revolving chair,
with a bright-coloured embroidered cushion for the feet to rest
upon ; and in a recess behind the desk, and partly screened
by the sweep of J^nask curtains, hung a man's pearl-giov dress-
ing-gown, lined Wi h cherry silk ; while under it rested a pair
kA black-velvet slippers, encrusted with vine leaves and bunches
of grapes in gold bullion.

Wishing to see the effect, Regina took a taper from the
Murrhine cup on the mantle, and standing on a chair lighted
the cluster of burners shaped like Pompeian lamps, in the
chandelier nearest the grate ; then went back to the rug before
the fire, and enjoyed the spectacle presented.

What treasures of knowledge were contained in this beauti-
ful, quiet, brilliant room )

Would she be permitted to explore the contents of those
book-shelves, where hundreds of volumes invited her eager
investigation? Gould she ever be as happy here, as in the
humble yet hallowed library at the dear old Parsonage %

An oval table immediately under the gas-globes, held a
china stand filled with cigars, and seeing several books lying
near it, she took up one.

It was Gustave Dora's " Wandering Jew," and throwing her-
self down on the rug, she propped her head with one hand,
while the other slowly turned the leaves, and she examined the
wonderful illustrations. She was vaguely conscious that the
clock struck ten, but paid little attention to the flight of time,
and after awhile she closed the book, drew the cushion before
the desk, to the rug in front of the fire, laid her head on it,
and, soothed by the warmth and perfect repose of the room,
fell asleep.

Soon after the door opened wider, and Mr. Palma entered,
and walked half-way down the room ere he perceived the re-
cumbent figure. He paused, then advanced on tiptoe and
stood by the hearth, warming his white scholarly hands and
looking down on the sleeper.

190

INFELIOE.

«w

With the careless grace of a child, innocent of the art of atti-
tudinizing, she had made herself thoroughly comfortable ; and
as tlie light streamed full upon her, all he marvellous beautv
of the delicate face, and the perfect modelling of the small
hands and feet were clearly revealed. The glossy raven hair
clung in waving masses around her white full forehead, and
the long silky lashes lay like jet fringe On her exquisitely
moulded cheeks ; while the remarkui ly fine pencilling of her
arched brows, which had attracted her guardian's notice when
he first saw hei at the convent, was still more apparent in the
gradual development of her features.

Studying the face and form, and rigidly testing both by the
fastidious canons thai often rendered him hypercritical, Mr.
Palma could find no flaw in contour or in colouring, save that
the complexion was too dazzlingly white ; lacking the rosy tinge
which youth and health are wont to impart.

Stretching his arm to the escritoire, he sofbly opened a side
drawer, took out an oval-shaped engraving of his favourite Sap-
pho, and compared the nose, chin, and ear, with those of the
unconscious girl. Satisfied with the result, he restored the
picture to its hiding-place. Four years had materially changed
the countenance he had seen last at the Parsonage, but the
almost angelic purity of expression which characterized her as
a child, had been i.itensified by time and recent grief, and
watching her in her motionless repose, he thought that un-
questionably she was the fairest image he had ever seen in
flesh ; though a certain patient sad^xess about her beautiful lips
told him that the waves of sorrow t^ ere already beating hoarsely
upon the borders of her young life.

Standing upon his own hearth, a man of magnificent stature
and almost haughty bearing, Erie Palma looked quite forty,
though in reality younger; and the stern repression, the
cautious reticence which had long been habitual, seemed to
have hardened his regular handsome features. Weary with
the business cares, the professional details of a trip that had
yielded him additional laurels and distinction, and gratified his
towering pride, he had come home to rest ; and found it singu-
larly refreshing to study the exquisite picture of innoceiice,
lying on his library rug.

He wondered how the parents of such a child could entrust
her to the guardianship of strangers 3 and whether it would be

INWELIOB.

191

possible for her to oftrry her peculiar look of holy purity — safely
into the cloudy Beyond — of womanhood t

While he pondered, the clock struck, and Regina awoke.

At sight of that tall stately figure, looming like ahlack statue
between her and the glow of the grate, she sprang first into a
sitting posture, then to her feet.

He made no effort to assist her, only watched every move-
ment, and when she stood beside him, he held out his hr.*. .

" Regina, I am ^lad to see you in my house ; and vsn '^orr}' T
could not have ' •^»>n at home to receive you."

Painfully eu. rassed by the thought of the positiou in which
he had found h e covered her face with her hand; and at

the sound of h. ^rave deep voice, the blood swiftly mounted
from her throat to the tip of her small shell-shaped ears.

He waited for her to speak, but she could not sufficiently
conquer her agitation, and with a firm hand he drew down the
shielding fingers, holding them in his.

"There is nothing very dreadful in your being caught
fast asleep, like a white kitten on a velvet rug. If you are
never guilty of anything worse, you and your guardian will
not quarrel."

Her face had drooped beyond the range of his vision, and
when he put one hand under her chin and raised it, he saw that
the missing light in the ^alabaster vase had been supplied, and
her smooth cheeks were flushed to brilliant carmine.

How marvellously lovely she was in that rush of colour that
dyed her dainty lips, and made tLe large soft eyes seem radiant
as stars, when they bravely struggled up to meet his — so
piercing, so coolly critical.

" Will you answer me one question, if I ask it % "

**" Certainly, Mr. Palma ; at least I will try."

" Are you afraid of me ? "

The sweet mouth quivered, but the clear lustrous eyes did
not sink.
, " Yes, Sir, I have always been afraid of yvu.**

" Do you regard me as a monster oi cruelty % **

"No, Sir."

" Will your conscience allow you to say : * My Guardian I
am glad to see you 1 ' "

She was silent.

" That is right, little girl. Be perfectly truthful, and some
day we may be friends. Sit down.*'

IMAGE EVALUATION
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INFXLIOM.

1 >

He handed her a chair, and rolling forward one of the deep
cushioned seats, made himself comfortable in its soft luxurious
latitude. Throwing his massive head back against the purple
velvet lining, he adjusted his steel rimmed spectacles, joined
his hands, and built a pyramid with his fingers ; while he scru-
tinized her as coldly, as searchingly as Swammerdam or Leeu*
wenhoek might have inspected some fh)w and as yet unclassi-
fied animalculum, or as Filippi or Pasteur studied the causes
of " Pibrine."

« What do you think of New York < "

" It seems a vast human sea, in which I could easily lose
myself, and be neither missed nor found."

" Have you studied mythology at all 9 Or was your pastor
guardian afraid of paganizing youf Did you ever hear oi
Argus t "

"Yes, Sir, I understand you."

" He was merely a dim prophecy of our Police system ; and
when adventurous girls grow rebellious and essay to lose them
selves, a hundred Arguses are watching theuL You seem tc
like my library 9 "

" It is the most beautiful room I have ever seen."
* « Wait until you examine the triumph of upholst'^ring skiD
and genius which Mrs. Palma calls her parlours."

** i saw all the pretty things down stairs, but nothing will
compare with this lovely place." She glanced around, with
undisguised admiration.

" Pretty things ! Ohjets de hixe I Oh, ye gods of fashion-
able brk-drbrac I verily * out of the mouths of babes — etc.,
etc.* Be very careful to suppress your heretical and treason-
able preference in the presence of Mrs. Palma, who avoids this
pet library of mine, as if it were a magnified Pandora's box.
Hegina, I have reason to apprehend that you and she declared
war at sight."

" I know she does not like me."

" And you fhlly reciprocate the prejudice 9

"Mrs. Palma, of course, has a right to c< .'It her own
wishes in the management of her home and household."

" Just here permit me to correct you. My house, if you
please — raf household — over which, at my request, she pre-
sides. Upon your arrival, you did not find her quite as cordial
as you anticipated 1 "

Her gaze wandered to the fire, and she was silent.

""^

4,\
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INFELIOB.

193

)

'* Be 80 good as to look at me, when I speak to you. Mr&
Palxna appeared quite harsh to you to-day ) "

" I have made no complaint against your mother."

" Pardon me — Mrs. Fahna — ^my father's wife — if you'pleasa
Tell me the particulars of your reception here."

The beautiful face turned pleadingly to him.

" You must excuse me, Sir. I have nothing to tell yon.**

** And if I will not excuse you t"

She folded her hands together, and compressed her lips.

<' Then I have some things to tell you. I ara acquainted
with all that occurred to-day."

''I thought you were in Philadelphia 9 How could you
know?"

" Boscoe told me everything, aEhd I have questioned Farley,
who has not taken your vow of silence. Mrs. Palma has
dome prejudices, which, as far as is compatible with reason, a
due sense of courtesy constrains me to respect ; and as I have
invited her to officiate as mistress of my establishment, it is
eminently proper that I should consult her opinions, and
ancourage no rebellion against her domestic regulations. One
Df her sternest mandates — inexorable as Mede and Persian
statutes — ^prohibits dogs. Now what do you expect of me P

He leaned forward, eyins her keenly.

" That you will do exactly "

** As I please 1 " he interrupted :

" No, Sir— exactly right."

" That amounts to the same thing, does it not t

She shook her head.

" Your impression is, that I will not please to do exactly
right r*

'' I have not said so. Sir."

" Your eyes are very brave, honest witnesses, and n3ed no
support from your lips. Suppose we enter into negotiations
and compromise matters between Mrs. Palma and you ? This
troublesome dog is a pestifeh)us creature, which might possi-
bly be tolerated in country clover fields; but is most wofnlly
out of place in a Fifth Avenue house. Beside, you will soon be
a young lady, and your beaux will leave you no leisure to pet
him. You are fifteen 9"

" Not yet ; and if I were fifty it would make no difference.
I don't want any beaux, Sir — but — I must have my Herow"

194

iwrsucE.

**0t course, all misses in their teens believe tliat their
favourite is a hero.**

" Mr. Palma—Hero is my dog's came."

He eould detect a quiver in her slender nostril, and under-
stood the heightening arch of her lip.

" Oh ! is it indeed f Well, no dog that ever barked is
worth a household hurricane. You must make up your mind
to surrender him, to shed a few tears and say vale Hero I
Now I am disposed to be generous for once, though under-
stand that is not my habit, and I will buy him. I will pay
you, let me see — thirty-five — forty— well, say fifty dollars?
That will supply you with Maillard's bonbons for almost a year ;
will sweeten your bereavement."

She rose instantly, with a peculiar sparkle leaping up in her
splendid eyes.

** There is not gold enough in New York to buy him/'

" What ! I must see this surly brute, that in your estimi-
tion is beyond all price. Tell me truly, do you cling to him so
fondly, because some school-boy sweetheart — some rosy

cheeked lad in V gave him to you as a love token 9 Trust

me; we lawyers are locked iron safes for all such tender
secrets, and I will never betray yours."

The rich glow overflowed her cheeks once more.

** I have no sweetheart. I love my Hero, because he is truly
noble and sagacious ; because he loves me, and because he b
mine — all mine."

" Truly satisfactory and sufiicient reasons. I might ask how
he came into your possession, but probablv you luirink from
divulging your little secret, and I am unwilling to force your
confidence."

She looked curiously into his face, but the handsome mouth
and chin might have been chiselled in stone, for any visible alter-
ation in their fixed stern expression, and his piercing black eyes
seemed diving into hers through microscopic glasses.

** At least, Kegina, I venture the hope that he came properly
and honestly into your heart and hands 1 "

" I hope so too, because you gave him to me."

" Yes, Sir. You know perfectly well, that you sent him to
me.

" I sent you a dog t When f Is he black, brown, striped,
or spotted 1 "

IirFBLICS,

195

€»

' Snow-white, and you know m well as I do, that you asked
Mr. Lindsay to bring him to me, soon after you left me at
V ."

" Indeed ! Was I guilty of so fooUsh a tbing t Did you
thank me for the present ? "

" I asked dear Mr. Hargrove to tell you when he wrote, that
I was exceedingly grateful for your kindness."

" Certainly it appears so. All these years, the dog was not
worth even a simple note of thanks ; now, all the banks in
Gotham cannot buy him."

The chill irony of his tone painfully embarrassed her.

** You positively refuse to sell him to me % *''

"Yes, Sir."

" Because you love him 1 "

** Because I love him more than I can ever make you com-
prehend."

" You regard me as a dullard in comprehending canine quali-
ties?"

" I did not say so."

" Do you really find yourself possessed of any sentiment of
gratitude toward me 1 If so, will you do me a favour % "

"Certainly— if I can."

" Thank you. I shall always feel exceedingly obliged. Pray
do not look sc uneasy, and grow so white ; it is a small matter.
I gave you the dog years ago, little dreaming that I was there-
by providing future discord for my own hearthstone. With a
degree of flattering delicacy, which I assure you I appreciate,
you decline to sdl what was a friendly gift; and now I
simply appeal to your generosity, and ask you please to give
him back to me.'*

She recoiled a step, and her fingers clutched each other.

" Oh, Mr. Palma ! Don't ask me. I cannot give up my
Hero. I would give you anything, everything else that I own,"

" Bash little girl ! What else have you to give ? Yourself 1 "

He was smiling now, and the unbending of his lips, and
glitter of his remarkably fine teeth, gave a strange charm to
his countenance, generally so grave.

"You would give yourself away, sooner than that unlucky
dog."

" I belong to my mother. But he belongs to me, and I never,
never will part with him."

" Jacta est alea I " muttered the lawyer, still smiling.

(

106

INFMLICK

" Mr. Palma, I hope you will excuse me. lb may leem very
selfish and obstinate in me — and perhaps it really is so — but I
can't help it I am so louely now, and Hero is all that I have
left to comfort me. Still I know as well as you or any one else,
that it would be very wrong and unkind to force mm into a
house where dogs are particularly disliked ; and therefore we
will annoy no one here — we wUl go away."

"Will you 9 Where 1"

He rose, and they stood side by side.

Her face wore its old childish look of patient pain, remind-
ing him of the time when she stood with the cluster of lilies
drooping against her heart. He saw that tears had gathered
in her eyes, rendering them larger, more wistful.

"I do not know yet. Anywhere that you think best, until
we can write and get mother's permission for me to go to her.
Will you not please use your influence with her 1 "

" To send you from the shelter of my roof) That would be
eminently courteous and hospitable on my part. Besides, your
mother does not want you."

Observing how sharply the words wounded her, he added :

**- 1 mean that, at present, she prefers to keep you here, be-
cause it is best for your own interests ; and in all that she does,
I believe your future welfare is her chief aim. You under-
stand me, do you not ) "

" I do not understand why, or how it can be best for a poor
girl to be separated from her mother, and thrown about the
world, burdening strangers. Still, whatever my mother does,
must be right."

" Do you think you burden me 1 "

" I believe. Sir, that you are willing, for mother's sake, to do
all you can for me, and I thank you very much ; but I must
not bring trouble or annoyance into your family. Can't you
place me at some school 1 Mrs. Lindsay has a dear friend —
the widow of a minister, living in New York — and perhaps she
would take me to board in her house % I have a letter to her.
Do help me to go away from here."

He turned quickly, muttering something that sounded very
like a half-smothered oath, and took her little trembling band,
folding it gently between his soft warm palms.

" Little girl — ^be patient ; and in time all things will be con-
quered. As long as I have a home, I intend to keep you ; or
until your mother sends for you. She trusts me fully, and you

INFEUCE,

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197

a
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■r

must try to do so, even though sometimes I may appear harsh,
possibly unjust. Of course Hero cannot remain here at
present, but I will take him down to my office, and have him
carefully attended to ; and as often as you like, you shall come
and see him, and take him to ramble with you through the
parks. As soon as I can arrange matters, you shall have him
with you again."

" Please Mr. Palma ! send me to a boarding school ; or take
me back to the convent."

"Never!"

He spoke sternly, and his face suddenly hardened, while his
fingers tightened over hers, like a glove of steeL

" I shi^ never be contented here."

" That remains to be seen."

" Mrs. Palma does not wish me to reside here."

" It is my house, and in future you will find no cause to
doubt your welcome."

She knew that she might as efficaciously appeal to an iron
column, and her features settled into an expression that could
never have been called resignation — that plainly meant hope-
less endurance. She attempted twice to withdraw her hand,
but his clasp tightened. Bending his haughty head, he asked :

"Will you be reasonable % "

A heavy sigh broke over her compressed mouth, and she
answered in a low, but almost defiant tone :

" It seems I cannot help myself."

"Then yield gracefully to the inevitable, and you will learn
that when struggles end, peace quickly follows."

She chose neither to argue nor acquiesce, and slowly shook
her head.

" Regina."

She merely lifted her eyes.

" I want you to be happy in my house."

"Thank you. Sir."

" Don't speak in that sarcastic manner. It does not sound
respectful to one's guardian."

She .ras growing paler, and all her old aversion to him was
legible in her countenance.

" Let us be friends. Try to be a patient, cheerful girl."

" Patient — I will try. Cheerful— no — no— not here ! How
can I be happy in this house 1 Am I a brute, or a stone 1 Oh 1
I wish I could have died with my dear — dear Mr. Hargrove —
that calm night when he went to rest for ever, while I sang 1 *'

198

INFELICE,

One by one tbe tears stole over her long lashee, and rolled
swiftly down her cheeks.

"Will you tell me the circumstances of his death f "

** Please do not ask me now. It would bring back all the
sad things that began when Mr. Lindsay left me. Everything
was so bright until then — until he went away. Since then
nothing but trouble — ^trouble."

A frown clouded the lawyer^s brow, then, with a half-smile,
he asked :

" Of the two ministers, whom did you love best 9 Mr.
Hargrove or the young missionary ? "

"I do not know, both were so noble, good and kind; and
both are so very dear to me. Mr. Palma, please let go my
hand ; you hurt me."

" Pardon me I I forgot I held it .

He opened his hands, and looking down at the almost child-
ish fingers, saw that his seal ring had pressed heavily upony
and reddened the soft palm.

" I did not intend to bruise you so painfully, but in some
respects you are such a tender little thing, and I am only a
harsh, selfish, strong man, and hurt you without knowing it.
One word more, before I send you ofT to sleep. Olga has the
most kindly ways, and really the most afiectionate heart under
this roof of mine, and she will do all she can for your comfort
and happiness. Be respectful to Mrs. Palma, and she shall
meet you half way. This is, as you say, the most attractive
room in the house — this is exclusively, and especially mine ;
but at all times, whether I am absent or present, you must con-
sider yourself thoroughly welcome ; and recollect, all it con-
tains in the book line, is at your servica. To-morrow I will
talk with you about your studies, and examine you in some of
your text-books. Apropos ! I take my breakfast alone, be-
fore the other members of the family are up ; and unless
you choose to rise early and join me at the seven o'clock
table, you need not be surprised if you do not see me until
dinner, which is usually at half-past six. If you require any-
thing that has not been supplied in your room, dp no% hesitate
to ring and order it. Try to feel at home."

"Thank you. Sir."

She moved a few steps, and he added :

" Do not imagine that Hero is suffering all the torments
painted in Dante's 'Inferno;' but go to sleep like a good

tNFEUOa,

l»f

child, and accept my aasaranoe that he is resting qvite comfort-
ably. When I came home, I took a light, went out and ex-
amined his kennel ; found him liberally provided with food,
water, bed — evenr accommodation that even yoor dog —
which all New York can't buy — could possibly wish. Good
nighty little one. Don't dream that i am Blue Beard
Polyphemus."
"Good night, Mr. Palma."

CHAPTER XV.

BS. OBME, I am afraid yon will
strength. You seem to forget the

tion.

overtax your
Doctor's cau-

" No, I am not in the least fatigued, and this soft
fresh air and sunshine will benefit me more than
all the medicine in your ugly vials. Mrs. Waul, recoUect that
I have been shut up for two months in a close room, and this
change is really deUcious."

" You have no idea how pale you look."
IVPo If No wonder, bleached as I have been in a dark
house. I daresay you are tired, and I insist that you sit yonder
under the trees, and rest yourself, while I stroll a little farther.
No-^keep the shawl, throw it around you. own shoulders,
which seem afflicted with a chronic chill. Here lu a New York
paper ; feast on American news tUl I come bacV."

Upon a seat in the garden of the Tuileries, Mrs. Orme
placed her grey-haired Duenna attendant, and gathering her
black-lace drapery about her, turned away into one of the
broad walks that divided the flower-bordered lawns.

Thin, almost emaciated, she appeared far taller than when
last she swept across tLd stage, and having thrown back her
veil, a startling and painful alteration was visible in the face —
that had so completely captivated iastidious Paris.

Pallid as Mors, the cheeks had lost their symnfetrical oval —
were hollow, and under the sunken eyes clung dusky circles
that made them appear unnaturally large, and almost Dantesque

200

inrMLioE,

in their mournful ffleamiog. Even the lips seemed •hmnken—
changed in their diusic contour ; and the ungloved hand that
clasped the folds of lace across her bosom, was wasted, wan,
diaphanous.

That brilliant Parisian career, which had opened so auspici-
ously, closed summarily during the second week of her engage-
ment^ in darkness that threatened to prove the unlifbing shadow
of death. The severe tax upon her emotional nature, the con-
tinued intense strain on her nerves, as night after night she
played to crowded houses — shunning, as if it contained a basi-
usk, the sifiht of that memorable box, where she felt rather
than saw that a pair of violet eyes steadily watched her— idl
this had conquered even her powerful will — ^her stern resolute
purpose, and one fatal evening the long-tired woman was irre-
trievably vanquished.

The rtU was " Queen Katherine," and the first premonitory
faintness rendered her voice uneven, as kneeling before King \\
Henry, the unhappy wife uttered her appeal :

•• AIM, Sir,—

In wha^ lutve I o£fended you ? What oaufle

Hath my behaviour siven to your displeasure,

That thus you should proceed to put me off,

And take your good grace from me ? Heaven witnesi^

I have been to you a true and humble wife." .....

As the play proceeded, she was warned by increasing giddi-
ness, and a tremulousness that defied her efforts to control it ;
and she rushed on toward the close, fighting desperately with
physical prostration.

Upon the last speech of the dying and disowned wife she had
safely entered,- and a few more minutes would end her own
fierce struggle with numbing faintness, and bring her succour
in rest. But swiftly the bli^ng footlights began to dance like
witches of Walpurgis night on Brocken heights ; now they
flickered — suddenly grew blue— then black — an icy darkness
as from some ghoul-haunted crypt seized her — and while she
threw out her hands with a Btrange groping motion, like a
bird beating the air with dying wings, her own voice sounded
far off— a mere fading echo : '

" Farewell — ^farewell. Nay, Patience "

She could only hefur a low hum, as of myriads of buzzing '

•*

1 1

INFELICM,

201

bees ; she realized that she mast speak louder, and thus blind,
shivering, reeling, she made her last brave rally :

. . . . 4 Strew me o'er
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I war a chaate wife to my grave— embalm
Then lay me forth ; — althongh nnqaeened, — ^yet-
Yet— like— like '•

The trembling shadowy voice ceased ; the lips moved to
utter the few remaining words, but no sound came. The wide
eyes stared blankly at the vast audience, where people held
their breath, watching the ghastly livid pallor that actually
settled upon the face of the dying Queen, and in another in-
stant, the proud lovely head drooped like a broken lily, and
she fell forward senseless.

As the curtain was rung hastily down, Mr. Laurance leaned

from his box, and hurled upon tho stage a large crown of white

roses, which struck the shoulder of tne prostrate figure, and

. shattering, scattered their snowy petals over the marble face

and golden hair.

The enthusiastic acclaim of hundreds of voices announced
the triumph of the magnificent acting ; but after repeated calls
and prolonged applause, during which she lay unconscious, the
audience was briefly informed that Madame Orme was too seri-
ously indisposed to appear again, and receive the tribute she
had earned at such fearful cost.

Kecovering slowly from that long swoon, she was carefully
wrapped up, and led away, supported by the arms of Mr. Waul
and his wife. As they lifted her into the carriage at the rear
entrance of the theatre, she sank heavily back upon the cush-
ions, failing to observe a manly form leaning against the neigh-
bouring lamp-post— or to recognise the handsome face where
the gas shone full, lighting up the anxious blue eyes that fol-
low^ her.

For several days she was too languid to move from her
couch, where she persisted in reclining, supported by pillows ;
still struggling against the prostration that hourly increased,
and at last the disease asserted itself, fever ensued, bringing
unconsciousness and delirium.

Not the scorching violent type that rapidly consumes the
vital forces, but a low tenacious fever that ba£9ed all opposition,

202

INFMLICE.

1 1

And steadily eained around, creeping upon the nerve centre,
and sapping the foundations of life.

For many weeks there seemed no hope of rescue, and two
physicians distinguished by skill and success in their pro-
fession, finally admitted that they were powerless to cope with
this typhoid serpent^ whose tightening folds were gntdually
stranding her.

At length most unexpectedly, when science laid down its.
weapons, to watch the close of the strugsle — and nature the
Divine Doctor quieUy took up the gage ^ battle — the tide of
conflict turned. Slowly the numbed brain began to exert its
force, the fluttering thready pulse grew calmer, and one day the
dreamer awoke to the bitter consciousness of a renewal of all
the galling burden of woes, which the tireless law of compen-
sation had for those long weeks, mercifully loosed and lifted.

Although guarded with tender care by the faithAil pair, whO'
had followed her across the Atlantic, she convalesced almost
imperceptibly, and out of her busy life, two mdhths fruitful
alone in bodily, pain, glided away to the silent gray of the past.

Dimly conscious that days and weeks were creeping by, un-
improved, she retained in subsequent years only a dreamy
reminiscence of the period dating from the moment when she
essayed to utter the last words of Queen Katherine, words
which ran zigzag, hither and thither like an electric thread
through the leaden cloud of her delirium, to the hour when,
with returning strength, keen sroadine thrusts from the un-
sheathed dagger of memory, tola her that the Sleeping Furies
had once more been aroused on the threshold of the temple of
her lifOi

Noticing some rare hothouse flowers in a vase upon the table
near her bed, Mrs. Waul hastened to explain to the invalid that
every other day during her illness, bouquets had been brought
to their hotel by the servant of some American gentleman, who
was anxious to receive constant tidings of Mrs. Orme's condition;
adding that the physicians had forbidden her to keep the flowers
in the sick-room, until all danger seemed passed. No card
had been attached, no name given, and bv the sufferer none
was needed. Gazing at the superb heart s-ease whose white
velvet petals were enamelled with scarlet, purple and gold, the
mockery stung her keenly, and with a groan she turned away,
hiding her face on the pillow. Heart's^ease from the man who
had bruised, trampled, oroken her heart X She instructed Mrs.

*■

INFEUCE.

tos

Wanl to decline reeemng the bonqnet when next the meuen-

S)r came, and to request him to assure his master that Madame
rme was fully conscious once more, and wished the floral tri-
bute discontinued.

During the tedious days of convalescence she contracted a
cold that attacked her lungs, and foreboded congestion ; and
though yielding to medical treatment, it left her as 50uv«ntr, a
troublesome cough.

Her physicians informed her that her whole nervous system
had received a shock so severe, that only perfect and prolonged
rest of mind, and freedom from all excitement, could restore its
heaJthfnl tone. Interdicting sternly the thought of dramatic
labour, for at least a year, they urged her to seek a quiet retreat
in Italy, or Southern France, as net lungs had already become
somewhat involved.

More than once she had been taken in a cairiage through the
Bois de Boulogne — but to-day for the first time since her re-
covery, she ventured on foot, in quest of renewed vigour from
out-door air and exercise.

Wrapped in a mental cloud of painful speculation concerning
her future career — a cloud unblessed as yet by silver lining, and
unfringed with gold — she wandered aimlessly along the walk,
taking no notice of passers-by, until she approached the water,
where swans were performing their daily regatta evolutions
for the amusement of those who generally came provided with
crumbs or grain, wherewith to feed them.

The sound of a sob attracted Mrs. Orme's attention, and
she paused to witness a scene that quickly aroused her
sympathy.

A child's carriage had been pushed close to the margin of
the basin, to enable the occupant to feast the swans with mor-
sels of cake, and in leaning over to scatter the food, a little hat
composed of lace, silk, and flowers, had fallen into the water.
Near the carriage stood a boy apparently about ten years old,
who, with a small walking-stick, was maliciously pushing the
dainty millinery bubble as far beyond reach as possible.

In the carriage, and partly covered by a costly and brilliant
afghan, reclined a forlorn and truly pitiable creature, who
seemed to have sunk down helplessly on the cushions. Al-
though her age was seven years, the girl's face really appeared
much older, and in its shrunken, sallow, pinched aspect indi*
cated lifelong suffering.

204

INFBLICE.

1 (

:?■

The short thin dark hair was dry and harsh, lacking the
silken gloss that belongs to childhood, and the complexion a
sickly yellowish pallor. Her brilliant eyes were black, large,
and prominent, and across her upper lip ran a diagonal scar,
occasionally seen in those so afflicted as to require the merciful
knife of a skilful surgeon to aid in shaping the mouth.

The unfortunate victim of physical deformity, increased by
a fall which prevented the possibility of her ever being able to
walk, nature had with unusual malignity stamped her with a
feebleness of intellect that at times bordered almost on imbecility.

Temporarily deserted by her nurse, the poor little crea-
ture was crying bitterly over the fate of her hat. Walking
up behind the boy, who was too much engrossed by his mis-
chievous sport to observe her appro^'Ch, Mrs. Orme seized his
arms.

" You wicked boy ! How can you be so cruel as to torment
that afflicted child 1"

Taking his pretty mother-of-pearl-headed cane, she tried to
touch the hat, but it was just beyond her reach, and resolved
to rescue it, she fastened the cane to the handle of her parasol,
using her handkerchief to bind them together. Thus elongated
it sufficed to draw the hat to the margin, and raising it, she
shook out the water, and hung the dripping bit of finery upon
one of the handles of the carriage.

" Give me my walking-stick," said the boy, whose pronuncia-
tion proclaimed him thoroughly English.

" No, Sir. I intend to punish you for your cruelty. You
tyrannized over that helpless little girl, because you were the
strongest. I think I have more strength than you, and you
shall feel how pleasant such conduct is."

Untying the cane, she raised it in the air, and threw it
with all the force she could command into the middle of the
water.

" Now, if you w;int it, wade in with your best boots and Sun-
day clothes and get it ; and go home and tell your parents, if
you have any, that you are a bad, rude, ugly-behaved boy.
When you need your toy, think of that hat.'*

The cane had sunk instantly, and with a sullen scowl of rage
at her, and a grimace at the occupant of the carriage, the boy
walked sulkily away.

With her handkerchief, Mrs. Orme wiped off the water that
adhered to the hat, squeezed and shook out the ribbons and

D t

hmtL

INWELICE,

205

lu
e
a

„

laid it upon the afghan, in reach of the fingers that more nearly
resembled claws than the digits of a human hand.

" Don't cry dear. It will soon dry now."

The solemn black eyes still glistening with tears, stared np
at her, and impelled by that peculiar pity'ng tenderness
that hovers in the hearts of all mothers, Mrs. Orme bent down
and gently smoothed the elfish locks around the sallow fore-
head.

" Has your nurse run away and left you 9 Don't be afraid ;
nothing shall trouble you. I will stay with you till she comes
back."

" Hellene is gone to buy candy,*' said the dwarf, timidly.

<' My dear, what is your name 1 "

" Maud Ames Lauiance."

The stranger had compassionately taken one of the thin
hands in her own, but throwing it from her as if it had been a
serpent, she recoiled, involuntarily pushing the carriage from
its resting place. It rolled a few steps and stopped, while she
stood shuddering.

Her first impulse was to hurry away ; the second was more
feminine in its promptings, and conquered. Once more, she
approached the unfortunate child, and scrutinized her, with eyes
that gradually kindled into a blaze.

She bore in no respect the faintest resemblance to her father,
but Mrs. Orme fancied she traced the image of the large-
featured bold-eyed mother ; and as she contrasted this feeble
deformed creature with the remembered face and figure of her
own beautiful darling girl, a bitter but intensely triumphant
laugh broke suddenly on the air.

" Maud Ames Laurance ! A proud name truly — and royally
you grace it ! Ah, Nemesis ! — Christianity would hunt you
down as a pagan myth — but all honour — glory to you, incor-
ruptible pitiless Avenger ! Accept my homage ; repay my
wrongs — and then demand in sacrificial tribute what you will
— though it were my heart's best blood ! Aha ! will she lend
lustre to the family name % Shall the splendour of her high-born
^aristocratic beauty gild the crime that gave her being 1 Yes
verily, it seems that after all, even for me the Mills of the Gods
do not forget to grind. * The, time of their visitatioTt will come,
and thafinevitahly ; for, it is always true, that if the fathers have
eaten sour grapes, the children's teeth are set on edge.' Command
my life-long allegiance, oh, Queenly Nemesis ! "

206

aXFEUOB.

Sometimes grovelling in the dust of gross selfishness which
dings more or less to all of us, we bow worshipping before the
gods, into which we elevate the meanest quahties of our own
nature, apotheosizing sinful lusts of hate and vengeance ; and
while we vow reckless tribute and measureless libations, lo ! we
are unexpectedly called upon for speedy payment.

Looking down with exultant delight on the ugly deformity
who stared back wonderingly at her, Mrs. Orme's wan thin
face grew radiant, the brown eyes dilated, glowed, and the
blood leaped to her hollow cheeks j burning in two scarlet
spots j but the invocation seemed literally answered, when she
was suddenly conscious of a strange bubbling sensation, and
over her parted, laughing lips crept the crimson that fed her
heart.

At this moment the child's nurse, a pretty, bright-eyed young
coquette, hurried toward the group, iiccompanied by a com-
panion of the same class ; and as she approached and seized
the handles of the carriage, Mrs. Orme turned away. The
hemorrhage was not copious, but steady, and lowering her
thick veil, she endeavoured to stanch its flow. Her hand-
kerchief, already damp from contact with the wet hat, soon be-
came saturated, and she was obliged to substitute the end of
her lace mantle.

Fortunately Mrs. Waul, impatiently i^atching for her re-
turn, caught a glimpse of the yet distant figure and hastened
to meet her.

" Are you crying % What is the matter 1 "

" My lungs are bleeding ; lend me a handkerchief. Try and
find a carriage."

" What caused it ) Something must have happened."

" Don't worry me now. Only help me to get home."

Screened both by veils and parasols, the two had almost
gained the street, when they met a trio of gentlemen.

One asked, in unmistakable New England English :

" Laurance, where is your father ? "

And a voice which had once epitomized for Minnie Merle
the *' music of the spheres," answered in mellow tones ; a

" He has been in London, but goes very soon to Italy."

Mrs. Waul felt a trembling hand laid on her arm, and turned
anxiously to her companion.

" Give me time. My strength fails me. I can't walk so
faat"

-'W.

JNFELIOS,

207

The excitement of an hour had overthrown the slow work of
weeks; and after many dayb the physicians peremptorily
ordered her away from Paris.

" Home ! Let us go home. You have not been yourself since
we reached this city. In New York you will get strong."

As Mrs. Waul spoke, she stroked one of the invalicrs thin
hands, that hung listlessly over, the side of the sofa.

'' I think Phcebe is right. America would cure you," added
the grey-haired man, whose heart was yearning for his native
land.

Alluring, seductive as the Siren song that floated across
Sicilian waves, was the memory of her fair young daughter, to
this sufifering weary mother ; and at the thought of clasping
Eegina in her arms — of feeling her tender velvet lips once
more on her cheek— the lonely heart of the desolate woman
throbbed fiercely.

Her sands of life seemed ebbing fast, the end might not be
distant ; who could tell 1 Why not go back — give up the
chase for the empty shadowof a name — ^gather her baby to her
bosom, and die ; finding under an humble cenotaph the peace
that this world denied her 1

An intolerable yearning for the sight of her child, for the
sound of her voice, broke over her like some irresistible wave
bearing away the vehement protests of policy — the sterner
barriers of vindictive purpose — and, with a long shivering
moan, she elapsed her hands and shut her eyes.

Impatiently, the old man and his wife watched her counte-
nance, confident that the decision would not long be delayed,
trusting that the result would be a compliance with their
wishes. But hope began to fade as they noticed the gradual
compression of her pale sorrowful mouth — the slow gathering
of the brows that net in a heavy frown — the tig' '^'^ning of the
clenched fingers — the greyish shadow that settled wn on the
face where renunciation was very legibly written. 'I'he tempta-
tion had been fierce, but she put it aside, after bitter struggles
to hush the wail of maternal longing ; and before she spoke,
the two friends looked at each other and sighed.

Lifting her marble eyelids that seemed so heavy with their
sweeping brown lashes, the invalid raised herself on one elbow,
and said, mournfully :

" Not yet^-oh ! not yet. I cannot give up the fight without
one more struggle, even if it should prove that of death to me.

208

INFELICE.

\ I

I must not return to America until I win >vhat I came for ;
I will not. But my friends — for such I consider you, such you
have proved — I will not selfishly prolong your exile ; will not
exact the sacrifice of your dearest wishes. Go back home at
once, and enjoy in peace the old age that deserves to be so
happy. I am ^oing to Italy, hoping to regain my health
— possibly to die ; but still I shall go. How long I may b&
detained, I know not, but meanwhile you shall retuin to those
you love."

" Idle words — ^all idle words ; not worth the waste of your
breath. Phoebe and I are homesick —we do not deny it, and
we are sorry you can't see things as we do ; but dince that
night when I stumbled over you in the snow, and carried
you to my own hearth — you have been to Phoebe and me — as
the child we lost : and unless you are ready to go home with
us, we stay ht^re^ You know we never will forsake you,t
especially now , Hush — don't speak, Phoebe. Come away wife ;
she is crying like a tired child. I never saw her give way like
that before. It will do her good. Every tear softens the
spasms that wring her poor heart, when she thinks of her baby.
In crossing the ocean she said that every wave seemed to
her a grave, in which she was burying her blue-eyed baby.
Let her alone to-day ; keep out of her sight. To-morrow we
will arrange to quit Paris, I hope for ever."

CHAPTER XVI

jBS. PALMA, if you are at leisure, I should like to
see you for a moment."

" Certainly, Miss Orme, come in."
Mrs. Palma looked up for an instant only, from
the blue sash which she was embroidering with
silver.

" Is your discourse confidential 1 If so, I shall certainly re-
tire, and leave you and Ilamma to tender communings, and an
interchange of souls," said Olga, who reclined on a lounge in

aiK

INFELICE.

209

her mobher'8 room, and slowly turned the leaves of a volume
of Balzac.

" Not at all confidential. Mrs. Palma, I have reason to fear
that my piano practising has long annoyed you."

'^ Upon what do you base your supposition ) During the
year I have not found fault with you, have II"

" Hattie told me that you often complained that you could
no longer enjoy your morning nap, because the sound of the
piano disturbed you ; and I wish to change the hour. The
reason why I selected that time, was because I always rose
early and practised before breakfast, until I came here ; and
because later in the day, company in the parlours or reception
room keep me out. I am anxious to do whatever is most agree-
able to you."

" It is very true that when I am out frequently until two and
three o'clock, with Olga, it is not particularly refreshing to he
aroused at seven by scales and exercises. People who live as
continually in society as we do, must have a little rest."

" I have been trying to arrange, so as to avoid annoying you,
but do not well see how to correct the trouble. From nine
until one, Mr. Van Kleik comes to attend to my Latin, Ger-
man, French, and mathematics ; and from four until five. Pro-
fessor Hurtzsel gives me my lessons. In the interval persons
are frequently calling, and of course interrupt me. If you
will only tell me what you vdsh, I will gladly consult your
convenience."

" Indeed, Miss Orme, I do not know when the tiresome prac-
tice will be convenient, though, of course, it is a necessary evil
and must be borne. The fact is, that magnificent Grand-piano
downstairs ought never to be thrummed upon for daily prac-
tising. I told Erie, soon after you came, that it was a shame to
have it so abused, but men have no understanding of the fitness
of things."

" Pray Mamma, do not forget your Bible injunction : * render
unto Csecar the things that are Coesar's,' and to music, the
matters that belong to its own divine art. Until Regina came
among us, that melodious siren in the front parlour had a
chronic lock-jaw from want of use. Some of the white keys
stuck fast when they were touched, and the black ones were so
stiff, they almost required a hammer to make them sound. Do
let her limber them, at her own ' sweet will.' Who wants a
piano locked up, like that hideous old china, and heavy glass,

210

INFELIOE.

JLM

that your grandfather's fiffch cousin brought over from Amster-
dam?"

*' At what time of day did you practise when you were a
young eirl ? " asked Begiiia, appealing to the figure now coiled
on the lounge.

" At none— thank fortune 1 Regard me as a genuine rara
avis — a fashionable young lady with no more aptitude* for the
' concord of sweet sounds/ than for the abstractions of Hegel
or Differential Calculus. It is traditional, that while in my
nurse's arms I performed miracles of melody such as Auld Lang
Syne, with one little finger ; but such undue precocity, madly
stimulated by ambitious Mamma and nurse Nell, resulted
fatally, in the total destruction of my marvellous talent, which
died of cerebro-musical excitement when confronted with the
gamut. Except as the language in which Strauss appeals to my
waltzing genius, I have no more use for it, than for ancient
Aztec. Thank Heaven ! this is a progressive age, and girls are
no longer tormented as formerly by piano fiends, who once
persisted in pounding and squeezing music into their poor strug-
gling nauseated souls, as restlessly as girls' feet are stul
squeezed in China. My talent is not for the musical tones of
Pythagoras."

" I should be truly glad to learn in what direction it tends,"
said her mother, rather severely.

Up rose the head with its tawny crown, and there was evi-
dent emphasis in the ringing voice, and in the fiery glance
that darted from her laughing hazel eyes.

" Cruel Mamma ! Because Euterpe did not preside when
I was lucklessly ushered into this dancing gift bubble that we
call the world, were all good gifts denied met The fairies
ordained that I should paint — should soar like Apelles, Angelo,
and Da Vinci into the empyrean of pure classic art, but no
sooner did I dabble in pigment, and plume my slender artistic
pin-feathers, than the granite hands of Palma pride seized the
ambitious ephemeron, cut off the sprouting wings, and bade
me paint only my lips and cheeks, if dabble in paint I must. I
am confident the soul of Zeuxis sleeps in mine, but before the
ukoM of the Palmas, a stouter than Zeuxis would quail, lie low,
be silent. Hence I am a young miss who has no talent, ex-
cept for appreciating Balzac, caramels, Diavolini — vanille
souffU — ^lobster-croquettes, and Strauss' waltzes; though en-
vious people do say that I have a decided genius for ' mal-

INFELIOE.

211

apropos historic quotations/ which you know are regarded as
unpardonable offences by those who cannot comprehend them.
Gome here, St. John, and let me rub your fur the wrong
way. The world will do it roughly, if you survive tender
kittenhood, and it is merciful to initiate you early, and by
degrees."

She took up a young black cat, that was curled comfortably
on the skirt of her dress, and stroking him softly, resumed her
book.

Mrs. Palma compressed her lips, knitted her heavy brows,
and turned the silk sash to the light, to observe the effect of
the silver snow-drops she was embroidering.

During her residence under the same roof, Regina had be-
come accustomed to these verbal tournaments between mother
and daughter, and having been kept in ignorance of the ground
of Olga's grievance, she could not understand allusions that
were frequently made in her presence, and which^never failed
to irritate Mrs. Palma.

Desirous of diverting the conversation from a topic that
threatened renewed tilts, she said, timidly :

" You do not in the least assist me, with reference to my
music. Would you object to having a hired piano in the
house 1 I could have it placed in my room, and then my
practising in the middle of the day, or in the evening, would
never be interfered with, and you could have your morning
nap."

"Indeed, Miss Orme — a very good suggestion; a capital
idea. I wUl speak to Erie about it, to-nighf

Regina absolutely coloured at the shadowy compliment.

" Will it be necessary to trouble Mr. Palma with the matter 1
He is always so busy, and, besides, you know much better than
a gentleman, what "

" I know nothing better than Erie Palma, where it concerns
his nUnage, or the expenses incident to its control."

" But out of my allowance I will pay the rent, and he need
know nothing of the matter."

'< Of course that quite alters the case ; and if you pro-
pose to pay the rent, there is no reason why he should be con-
sulted."

" Then will you please select a piano, and order it sent up
to-day or to-morrow 1 An upright could be most conveniently
carried upstairs."

212

INFEUOB.

" Certaialy, if you wish it. We ihall be on Broadway thia
afternoon, and I will attend to the matter."

" Thank you, Mrs. Pahna."

" Kegina Orme ! what an embryo diplomatist, what an in-
cipient Talleyrand, Kaunitz— Bismarck you are ! Mamma is
as invulnerable to all human weaknesses as one of the suits of
armour hanging in the Tower of London, and during my ex-
tended and rather intimate acquaintance with her, I have
never discovered but one foible incident to the flesh — love of
her morning nap ! You have adroitly struck Achilles in the
heel. Sound the timbrel and sing like Miriam over your vic-
tory; for it were better to propitiat<) one of the house of
Palma, than to strangle Pharaoh. You should apply for a
position in some foreign legation, where your talents can be
fitly trained for the tangles of diplomacy. Now, if you were
only a man, how admirably you would suit the Hon. Erie
Palma, as Deputy "

*' He prefers to appoint his deputies, without suggestion from
others, and regrets he can find no vacant niche for you,"
answered Mr. Palma, from the threshold of the door, where he
had been standing for several moments, unperceived by all, but
the hazel eyes of the graceful figure on the lounge.

" Ah ! you steal upon one as noiselessly, yet as destructive
as the rats that crept upon the bowstrings at Pelusium 1 And
the music of your eavesdropping voice :— •

' Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south
That breathes upon a bank of violets. ' "

She rose, made him a profound salaam, And with the black
kitten in her arms, quitted the room

" Will you come in, Erie 1 Do you wish to see me ? "

Mrs. Palma always looked ill at ease when Olga and her
step-brother exchanged words, and Begina had long observed
that the entrance of the latter was generally the signal of de-
parture for the former.

** I came in search of Regina, but chancing to hear the piano
question discussed, permit me to say that I prefer to take the
matter in my own hands. I will provide whatever may be
deemed requisite, so that this young lady's Rothschild's allow-
ance may continue to flow uninterruptedly into the coflers
of confectioners and flower-dealers. Mrs. Palma, if you can

"' SSJiuaa UBtBesa LmLx

INFELICB.

213

t /

spare the carrifige, I should like the use of it for an hour or
two."

" Oh, certainly ! I had thought of driving to Stewart's, hut
to-nn^rrow will suit me quite as well."

" By no means. You will have ample time after my return.
Eegina, I wish to see you."

She followed him into the halL

" In the hox of clothing that arrived several days ago, there
is a white cashmere suit, with blue-silk trimmings ) "

"Yes, sir."

" Be so good as to put It on. Then wrap up well, and when
ready come to the library. Do not keep me waiting. Bring
your hair vush and eomb."

Her mother had sent from Europe a tasteful wardrobe, which,
when unpacked, Mrs. Palma pronounced perfect ; while Olga
asserted that one particular sash surpassed anything of the
kind she had ever seen, and was prevailed upon to accept
and wear it.

With many conjectures concerning the import of Mr. Palma's
supervision of her toilette, Regina obeyed his instructions, and,
fearful of trespassing on his patience, hurried down to the
library.

With one arm behind him, and the hand of the other holding
a half-smoked cigar, he was walking meditatively up and down
the polished floor, that reflected his tall shadow

" Where do you suppose you are going 1 "

" I have no idea."

" Why do you not inquire ? "

" Because you will not tell me till you choose ; and I know
that questions always annoy you."

" Come in. You linger at the door, as if this were the den
of a lion at a menagerie, instead of a room to which > ou have
been cordially invited several times. I am not voracious — have
had my luncheon. You are quite ready ) "

** Quite ready "

She was slowly walking down the long room, and suddenly
caught sight of something that seemed to take away her breath.

The clock on the mantel had been removed to the desk, and
in its place was a large portrait, neither square nor yet exactly
kit-cat, but in proportion more nearly resembling the latter. In
imitation of Da Vinci's celebrated picture in the Louvre, the
background represented a stretch of arid rocky landscape, un-

214

INFELIOB.

relieyed by foliage, and against it rose in pose and general
outline, the counterpart of " La Joeonde^

The dress and drapery were of black yelvet, utterly bare of
ornament, and out oi the canvas looked a face of manrellous,
yet mysteriously mournful beauty. The countenance of a
comparatively young woman, whose radiant brown eyes had
dwelt in some penetrale of woe, until their light was softened,
saddened; whose regular features were statuesque in their
solemn repose, and whose ^old-tinted hair simply parted on
her white round brow, fell m glinting waves down upon her
polished shoulders. The mystical pale face of one who seemed
alike incapable of hope or of regret, who gazed upon past,
present, future, as proud, as passionless and calm as Destmy ;
. and whose perfect hands were folded in stem fateful rest.

As Begina looked up at it, she stooped, then ran to the
hearth, and stood with her eyes riveted to the canvas, her lips
parted and quivering.

Watching her, Mr. Palma came to her side, and asked :

"Whomcanitbe?"

Evidently she did not hear him. Her whole heart and soul
appeared centred in the picture, but as she gazed, her own elo-
quent face grew whiter — she drew her breath quickly, and tears
rolled over her cheeks, as she lifted her arms towards the
painting.

" Mother 1 my beautiful sad-eyed mother 1 "

Sobs shook her frame, and she pressed towards the mantel-
piece till the skirt of her dress swept dangerously close to the
fire. Mr. Palma drew her back, and said, quietly :

" For an uncultivated young rustic, I must say your apprecia<
tion of fine painting is rather surprising. Few city girls
would have paid such a tearful tribute of heartfelt admiration
to my pretty * Mona Lisa.' "

Without removing her fascinated eyes, she asked :

" When did it come 1"

'' I have had it several days. I presume you know that it is
a copy of Da Vinci's celebrated picture, upon which he worked
four years, and which now hangs in the gallery of the Lpuvre
at Paris?"

She merely shook her head.

" In France it is called * La Joconde* but I prefer the softer
' Mona Lisa ' for my treasure."
" Is it nok mine f She must have sent it to me t "

UTFELIOE.

910

" She f Are you dreuning t Mona Lisa has been dead three
hundred years ! "

" Mr. Palma — it is my mother. No other face ever looked
like that ;; no other eyes except those in the Mater Dolorosa re-
semble these beautiful sad brown eyes, that rained their tears
upon my head. Do you think a child ever mistook another
for her own mother 1 Can the face I first learned to know and
to love — the lovely — Oh ! how lovely face that bent over my
cradle — ever — ever be forgotten 1 If I never saw her again
in this world, could I fail to recognise her in heaven 1 My own
mother ! "

" Obstinate, infatuated little ignoramus ! Read and be con-
vinced."

He opened and held before her a volume of engravings of
the pictures and statues in the Louvre, and turning to the
Leonardo Da Vinci's, moved his finger slowly beneath the
title.

Her eyes fell upon ** La Jocomde," then wandered back to
the portrait over the fire-place, and through her tears, broke a
radiant smile.

" Yes, Sir, I perfectly understand. Your engraving is of Da
Vinci's painting, and, of course, I suppose it is very fine,
though the face is not pretty ; but up yonder ! — that is mother I
My mother — who kissed and cried over me, and hugged me
so close to her heart. Oh ! Your Da Vinci never even
dreamed of, much less painted, anything half so heavenly as
my darling mother's face ! "

Closing the book, Mr. Palma threw it on the table, and as
he glanced from the lovely countenance of the girl, to that of
the woman on the waU, something like a sigh heaved his broad
ehest.

Did the wan meek shadow of his own patient much suffering
young mother, lift her melancholy image in the long silent ady-
tum of his proud heart, over whose chill chambers ambition
and selfishness had passed with ossifying touch 1

Years ago, at the initial steps of his professional career, he
had set before him one-glittering goal — ^the Chief-Justiceship.
In preparing for the long race that stretched ahead of him —
seeing only the Judicial crown that sparkled afar off, he had
laid aside his tender sensibilities, his warmest impulses of affec-
tion and generosity as so many subtle fetters, so much unprofit-
able luggage, so much useless weight to retard and burden him.

316

INFEUCE.

While his physical and niAntal deyelopment had brilliantly
attested the efficacy of the stern regimen he systematically im-
posed, his emotional nature long discarded, had grown so
feeble and inane from desuetude, that its very existence had
become problematical. But to-day, deeply impressed by the in-
tensity of love which Regina could not restrain at the sight of
the portrait, s^nee softening memories began to stir their
frozen sleep, and to hint of earRer. warmer, boyish times, even
as magnolia, mahoganv, and cocoa trunks stranded along icy
European shores, babble of the far sweet sunny south, and
the torrid seas, whose restless blue pulses drove them to hyper^
borean realms.

** Is it indeed so striking and unmistakable a likeness ? After
all, the instincts of nature are stronger than the canons of art.
Your mother is an exceedingly beautiful woman ; but little girl,
let me tell you, that you are not in the least like her."

" I know that sad fact, and it often grieves me."

** Ton must certainly resemble your father, for I never saw
mother and child so entirely dissimilar."

He saw the glow of embarassment, of acute pain, tinging her
throat and cheeks, anft wondered how much of the past had
been committed to her keeping; how far she shared her mother's
confidence. During the year that she had been an inmate of
his house, she had never referred to the mystery of her
parentage, and despite his occasional efforts to become better
acquainted, had shrunk from his presence, and remained the same
shy reserved stranger she appeared the week of her arrival.

" Is not the portrait for me 1 Mother wrote that she intended
sending me something which she hoped I would value more
than all the pretty clothes, and it must be this — her own
beautiful, precious face."

" Yes, it is yours, but I presume you will be satisfied to allow
it to hang where it is. The light is singularly good."

" No, Sir, I want it."

"Well, you have it, where you can see it at any time."

" But I wish to keep it — all to myself— in my room — where
it will be the last thing I see at night — the first thing in the
morning — ^my sunrise." ^

" How unpardonably selfish you are. Would you deprive
me of the pleasure of admiring a fine work of art, merely
to shut it in, converting yourself into a pagan, and the portrait
into an idol t "

INFELIOM.

Til

1 1

*' But, Mr. Palms, you never loved any one or anytbing so
very dearly, that it seemed holy in your eyes ; much too laored
for others to look at."

** Certainly not. I am pleased to saj that is a mild stage of
lunacy with which I have as y<;t never been threatened.
Idolatry is a phase of human weakness I have been unable
to tolerate."

He saw a faint smile lurking about the perfect curves of her
rosy mouth, but her eyes remained fixed on the picture.
- "I should be glad to know what you find so amusii% in
my remark."

She shook her head, but the obstinate dimples reappeared.

" What are you smiling at 1 "

" At the assertion that you cannot tolerate idolatry."

"Well ? Of all the men in New York, probably I am the
most thoroughly iconoclast."

"Yes, Sir~ of other people's gods; nevertheless, I think you
worship ardently."

" Indeed 1 Have you recently joined the ' Microscopical
Societv 1 ' I solicit the benefit of your discoveries, and shall
be duly grateful, if jon will graciously point out the un-
known fane, Wherem I secretly worship. Is it fieauty 1
Genius ) Biches 1 "

" It is not done in secret. All the world knows that Mr.
Palma imitates the example of Marcus Marcellus, and dedicates
his Hfe to two divinities.

Standing on either side of the grate, and ^ach pressing a
hand upon the slab of the mantle, the lawyer loc>kea curiously
down at the bright young face.

" You are quite fresh in foraging from historic fields, and
since I quitted the classic shade of Alma Mater I have had
little leisure for Roman lore ; but college memories suggest
that it was to Honour and Valour, that Marcellus erected the
splendid double temple at the Capene Gate. I bow to your
parallel, and gratefully appreciate your ingeniously delicate
compliment."

He laughed sarcastically as he interpreted the protest very
legible in ner clear honest eyes, and waited a moment for her
to disclaim the fiiattery. But she was silently smiling up at her
mother's face.

" Does my very observant ward approve of my homage to
the Roman deities 1 "

218

INFELICB.

I I

" Are your favourite divinities those before whom Marcellus
bent his knee ) "

Very steadily her large eyes, blue as the border of a clematis,
were turned to meet his, and involuntarily he took his under
lip between his glittering teeth.

'' My testimony would not be admissible before the bar at
which I have been arraigned. Since you have explored the
Holy of Holies, be so kind as to describe what you find."

" You might consider me presumptuous, possibly imperti-
nent."

"At least, I may safely promise not to express any such
opinion. What is there, think you, that Erie Palma wor-
ships."

" A statue of Ambition that stands in the vestibule of the
temple of Fame."

" Olga told you that."

" Oh, no, Sir ! Have not I lived here a year 1 "

His eyes sparkled, and a proud smile* curled his lipau

" Do I ofiur sacrifices 1 "

" I think you would, if they were required."

" Suppose my stone god demanded my heart?"

" Ah, Sir ; you know you gave it to him long ago."

He laughed quite genially, and his whole face softened,
warmed.

" At least, let us hope my ambition is not sordid — is un-
stained with the dross of avarice. It is a stern god, and I
shall not deny-^that ' Ephraim is joined to his idols ! Let him
ak)ne.' "

A short silence followed, during which his thoughts wan-
dered far from the precincts of that quiet room.

" Mr. Palma, will you please give me that picture 1 "

" It is yours, of course, but conditionally. It must remain
where it now hangs ; first, because I wish it ; secondly, because
your mother prefers (for good reasons) that it should not be
known just yet as her portrait, and if it should be removed to
your bed-chamber, the members of the household would proba-
bly gossip. Remaining here, it will be called an imitfition of
'Moua Lisa del Giocondo,' and none will ever suspect the
truth. Pray don't straiten your lips in that grievously defiant
fashion, as Perpetua doubtless did, when she heard the bellow-
ing Oi beasts, or the clash of steel in the Amphitheatre. Make
this rooih your favourite retreat. Now that it contains your

«»

INFELIOE.

819

painted Penates, convert it into an a^mm. Gome when you
may, you will never disturb me. In a long letter received this
week, your mother directs that your portrait shall be painted
in a certain position, and wishes you to wear the suit you have
on. The carriage is ready, and I will take yon at once to the
artist. Put on your hat."

During the dnve he was abstracted, now and then consult-
ing a paper of memoranda, carried in the inside breast-pocket
of his coat.

Once introduced into the elegant studio of Mr. Harcourt, in
Tenth Street, Kegina found much to interest and charm her,
while her guardian arranged the preliminaries, and settled the
details of the picture. Then he remov~ ^ he hat and cloak,
and placed her in the comfortable seat au^^aiy prepared.

The artist went into an adjoining room, and a moment after,
Hero bounded in, expressing, by a succession of barks, his almost
frantic delight at the reunion with his mistress. Sinee her re-
moval to New York, she saw him so rarely, that the pleasure
was mingled with pain, and now with her arms round his neck,
and her face hidden in his thick white hair, she cried softly,
unable to keep back the tears.

" Come, Hegina, sit up. Make Hero lie on that pile of
cushions, which will enable you to rest one hand easily on his
head. Crying 1 Mr. Harcourt paints no such weeping demoi-
selles. Dry your eyes, and take down youi' hair. Your mother
wishes it flowing, as when she saw you last."

While she unbraided the thick coil, and shook out the shin-
ing folds, trying to adjust them smoothly, the lawyer stood
patiently beside her ; and once his soft white hand rested on
her forehead, as he stroked back a rippling tress that en-
croached upon her temple.

The dress of pearly cashmere was cut in the style usually
denominated " infant waist," and fully exposed the dazzling
whiteness and dimpling roundness of the neck and shoulders ;
while the short puffed sleeves showed admirably the fine model-
ling of the arms.

Walking away to the easel, Mr. Palma looked back, and
critically contemplated the effect ; and he acknowledged it was
the fairest picture his fastidious eyes had ever rested on.

He put one hand inside his vest, and stood regarding the
girl with mingled feelings of pride in ** Erie Palma's ward,"
and an increasing interest in the reticent calm-eyed child, which

mimmmm

220

INFEUOB.

had first dawned when he watched her asleep in the raiboad
oar. It was no easy matter to stir his leaden sympathies, save
in some selfish ramification; but once warmed and set in
motion, t^ey proved a current difficult to stem.

In a low voice the artist said, as he selected some brushes
from a neighbouring stand :

** How old is she ? Her features have a singularly infantile
delicacy and softness, but the eyes and lips seem to belong to
a much older person."

" Begina, have you not entered upon your sixteenth year 1 "
« Yes, Sir."

" I believe, Mr. Palma, it is the loveliest living face I ever
saw. It is so peculiar, so intensely — what shall I say —
prophet-eyed."

^* Yes, I believb that is the right word. When she looks
steadily at me, she often reminds me of a Sibyl."
" But is this her usuid, every-day expression t **
'* Bather sadder than customary, I think."
He went back to the group, and standing in front of his ward,
looked gravely down in her upturned face.

" Could you contrive to appear a little less solemn ? **
She forced a smile, but he made an impatient gesture.
*VOh — Don't. Anything would be better than that dire
conflict between the expression of your mouth, and that of
your eyes. Have you any hermetically-sealed pleasant
thoughts hidden behind that smooth brow, that you could be
prevailed upon to call up for a few moments, just long enough
to cast a glimmer of i^unshine over your face ? I think you
once indignantly denied ever indulging in the folly of possess-
ing a sweetheart, but perhaps you have really entertained more
affaires de coeur than you choose to confide to such a grim,
iron guardian as yours ? Possibly you may cherish cheerful
memories of the kind-hearted young missionary, whose
chances of hastening to heaven, per Sepoy passport, via Delni
route— seem at times to distress you 1 Does he ever write you 1 "
" His mother has written to me twice since she reached
India, and once enclosed a note from him ; but although she
said he had written, and I hoped for a letter, none has come."
He noted the quick flutter of her lip, and the shadow that
crept into her eyes.

" Then he went away with the expectation that you would
correspond with him ) "

INFELiaS,

221

« Yes, Sir."

** He is quite a bold, audacious young fellow, and you are a
very disrespectful, imprudent, disobedient young ward, to enter
into such an arrangement without my consent and permission.
Suppose I forbid all communication 1 "

" I think. Sir, you would scarcely be so unreasonable and un-
just, and if you were, I should not obey you. I would appeal
to my mother. Mr. Hargrove, dear good Mr. Hargrove^was
my guardian when Mr. Lindsay went away, and he did not ob-
ject to the promise I made concerning a correspondence."

The starry sparkle which, during the last twelve months,
he had learned meant the signal of mutiny, flushed up in her
eyes.

•* Take care ! when iron gloves are recklessly thrown down,
serious mischief sometimes ensues. My laws are rarely Draco-
nian, until reason has been exhausted ; but nature endowed
me with a miserly share of patience, and I do not think it en-
tirely politic in you to challenge me. Here is a document that
has an intensely Hindustanee appearance, and is, as you see, at
my mercy. Where it has been since it left Calcutta last Jupe,
I know not. That Padre Sahib penned it, I indulge no doubt.
Pray sit still. So the sunshine has come to your countenance
at last, and all the way from India ! Verily, happiness is the
best cosmetic, and hope the brightest illuminator — even more
successful than Bengal lights."

He held up a letter, post-marked Calcutta, and coldly watched
the glow that overspread her face, as her gaze eagerly followed
the motion of his hand.

" I have not touched the seal, but as your guardian, it is
proper that I should be made acquainted with the contents.
When you ha^ a devoured it, I presume you will yield to the
promptings of respect due to my position and wishes. When
I assume guardianship of any person or thing, I invariably exert
all the authority, exact all the obedience, and claim all the
privileges and perquisites to which the responsibility entitles
me.

He placed the letter on the cushion where Hero nestled, and
turning to the artist, added :

" I leave Miss Orme in your care, Mr. Harcourt, and shall
send Mr. Roscoe to remain during the sitting, and take her
home. Paint her just as she is now. Good morning."

222

IlfFELTOS,

1 »

»i

CHAPTER XVII.

|HKOUGH the creamy lace curtains that draped the
open windows, the afternoon sun shone into the
library, making warm lanes of yellow light across the
rich mosaic of many-coloured woods that formed the
polished floor. Upon one of the round tables was a
silver salver, whereon stood a wine cooler of the same material,
representing Bacchus crushing ripe clusters into the recepta-
cles, that now contained a bottle of Riidesheim, and a crystal
claret jug. In tempting proximity rose a Sevres epergne of
green and gold, whose weight was upborne by a lovely figure,
evidently modelled in imitation of Titian's Lavinia ; and the
crowning basket was heaped with purple and amber grapes,
crimson-cheeked luscious peaches, and golden pears sun-flushed
into carmine flecks.

Two tall glittering Venice glasses stood upofl the salver,
casting prismatic radiance over the silver, as the sunbeams
smote their slender fluted sides, and a pair of ruby-tinted
finger bowls completed the colour chord.

On one side of the table sat Mr. Palma, who had returned
an hour before from Washington, and was resting comfortably
in his favourite chair, with his head thrown back, and a cigar
between his lips. His eyes were turned to the mantel-piece —
where, since the day the portrait was first suspended,
ten months ago, Begina had never failed to keep a fresh dainty
bouquet of fragrant flowers. This afternoon, the little vase
held only apple-geranium leaves, and a pyramidal cluster of
tuberoses; and her guardian had observed that when white
blossoms could be bought, coloured ones were never offered in
tribute.

Opposite the lawyer was his cousin axid protdg^, occupied in
peeling a juicy peach, with one of the massive silver fruit-
knives.

" I have never doubted the success of the case ; it was a
foregone conclusion when you assumed charge of it. Certainly,
considering the strength of the defence, it is a brilliant triumph
for you, and compensates for the toil you have spent upon it.
I have never seen you labour more indefatigably."

'*^t'

in
it-

r
t.

IlfFBLICE,

?23

" Yes, for forty-eight hours I did not close my eyes, and of
course the result gratifies me, for the counsel for the defence
was the most stubbornly contestant I have dealt with for a
long time. The Government influence was immense. Where
have Mrs. Palma and Olga gone 9 "

« To Manhattanville, I believe."

" How long since Begina left the house t "

''Only a few moments before you arrived. It seems to me
singularly imprudent to allow her to wander about the City, as
she does."

" Explain yourself."

" I ofiered to accompany her as escort, but she rather curtly
declined my attendance."

" And in your estimation, that constitutes ' imprudence 1 ' "

" I certainly consider it very imprudent for any young girl
to stroll around alone in New York, on Sunday afternoon ; —
especially one so very attractive, so conspicuously beautiful as
Regina."

" During my absence has any one been kidnapped orgarroted
in broad daylight 1 "

" I do not study the police records."

" Do you imagine that she perambulates about the sacred
precincts of * Five Points,* or the purlieus of Chatham Street V

" I imagine nothing, Sir ; but I know that she frequents a
distant portion of this City, where I should think young ladies
of her social status would find no attraction."

" You have followed her then 1 " Mr. Palma raised him-
self, and struck the ashes from his cigar.

" I have not, but others certainly havb, and commented upon
the fact."

" Will you oblige me with the remarks, and the name of the
author 1 "

" No — Cousin Erie, — certainly not the last. But I will tell
you that a couple of young gentlemen met 'her on Eighth Ave-
nue, and were so impressed by her face that they turned and
followed her ; saw her finally enter one of a row of poor

tenement buildings in Street. Soon after she came

out and retraced her steps. They watched her till she entered
your house, and next day one of them asked me if she were
a sewing girl. No ward of mine should have such latitude."

"Not Elliott Roscoe — but I happen to be her guardian.
She visits by my permission, the house you so vaguely desi^'-

224

INFELICB.

1 1

a ate, and the first time ehe entered it, I accompanied her and
pointed out the location, and the line of street cars that would
carry her almost to the square. At present the house is occu-
pied by Mrs. Mason, the widow of a minister who was re-
lated to Mr. Hargrove, Eegina's former guardian ; and the
references, furnished me by the lady, ^ve satisfactory assur-
ance that the acquaintance is unobjectionable, — although the
widow is evidently is very reduced circumstances. I con-
sented some weeks ago, that my ward should occasionally
spend Sunday afternoon with hor."

" I presume you are the best judge of the grave responsi-
bility of your position," replied the young gentleman, stiffly.

" Certainly, I think so. Sir ; and as you may possibly have
observed, I am not particularly grateful for volunteer sugges-
tions relative to my duty. Has it ever occurred to you that
the green goggles you wear at present, may accidentally lend
an unhealthy tinge to your vision 1 "

A wave of vivid scarlet flowed to the edge of Mr. Boscoe's
fair harvest-hued hair, as he answered angrily :

" You are the only person who could with impunity make
such an insinuation.''

" In insinuations I never indulge, and impunity I neither
arrogate, nor permit in others. Keep cool Elliott, or else
change your profession. A man who cannot hold his temper in
leash, and who flies emotional signals from every feature in his
face, hasslender chance of success in an avocation which demands
that body and soul, heart and mind, abjure even secret signal
service, and deal o^^iy in cipher. The youthful natvetS with
which you permit your countenance to reflect your sentiments,
renders it quite easy for me to comprehend the nature of your
feeling for my ward. For some weeks your interest has been
very apparent, and while I am laying no embargo on your aflec-
tions, I insist that jealousy must not jaundice your estimate of
my duties, or of Eegina's conduct. Moreover, Elliott, I sug-
gest that you thoroughly reconnoitre the ground before be-
ginning this campaign ; for, my dear fellow, I tell you frankly I
believe Oupid has already declared himself sworn ally of a cer-
tain young minister, who entered, and enjoys pre-emption T-^h*;
over what amount of heart may have thus far been developed
m the girl. In addition, she is too young — not yet sixteen —
; nd I rigidly interdict all love passages ; besides, her parentage
4 to some extent a secret — she has no fortune but her face, and

INFELIOB.

225

you are poor in all save hope and social itanding. f^erJmm,
etc., etc."

Walking to the window, where he stood with his countenance
averted, Mr. Roscoe said, hesitatingly :

" I would rather my weakness had been discovered by the
whole world, than that you should know it ; you who never
having indulged such emotions, regard them as the height of
folly. I am aware that at this moment you think me an
idiot."

" Not necessarily. A known weakness thoroughly conquered,
sometimes becomes an element of additional strength in human
character. As the exercise of muscle builds up physical vigour,
so tlie persistent exertion of will develops mental and moral
power. Men who have a paramount aim in life, should never
hesitate in strangling all irrelevant and inferior appellants for
sympathy. A comparatively briefless attorney should trample
out, as he would an invading worm, the temptation to dream
rose-coloured visions, wherein bows, arrow?, and bleeding hearts
are thick and plentiful as gooseberries. Love in a cottage with
honeysuckle on the porch, and no provisions in the larder, be-
longs to the age of fables — is as dead as feudal tenure."

" That you are quite incapable of such impolitic weakness,
I am well aware, for under the heel of your iron will, your
heart would not even struggle. But, unfortunately, I am an
impulsive, foolish, human Roscoe — not a systematically organ-
ized, well-regulated, and unerring Palma."
His cousin bowed complacently.

** Be kind enough to hand me the cigars. This is defective;
will not smoke."

He leisurely lighted one, and resumed :
" While on the cars to-day, I read an article which contained
a passage to this efiect, and I offer it for your future reflection:
* That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who has been
so trained in his youth, that his body is the ready servant of
his will, and does with ease and pleasure all the work that, as
a mechanism, it is capable of; whose intellect is a clear, cold,
logic engine, with all its parts of equal strength, and in smooth
working order ; ready like a steam engine to be turned to any
kind of work.* Elliott, young gentlemen should put their
hearts in their pockets, until they fully decide before what
shrine it would be most remunerative to offer them. The last
time we dined at Judge Van Zandt's — certainly not more than

226

IlfFBUOB.

f .

three montlis ago— you were all devotion to his second daugh-
ter, Clara of the ruby lips, and cidre hair."

" Clara Van Zandt — no, thank you ! I would not give
Ilegina's pure face and sweet violet eyes for all the other femi-
nine flesh in New York ! "

Had his attention been fixed just then upon Mr. Palma, he
might have detected the sudden flash in his black eyes, and the
nervous clenching of his right hand that rented on the arm of
the chair ; but the younger man was absorbed by his own
emotions, and very soon his cousin rose.

" In future we will not discuss this folly. At present, please
recollect that my ward's face has not yet been offered in the
matrimonial market; consequently your bid is premature.
Those papers I spoke of must be prepared as early as possible
in the morning, and submitted to me for revision. Be careful
in copying the record. Have a cigar 'i I shall not be back be-
fore dark."

The happiest hours Eegina had known during her residence
in New York, had been spent in the room where she now sat ;
a basement room with low ceiling, and faded olive-tinted walls.
The furniture was limited to an old-fashioned square table of
mahogany, rich with that colour which comes only from the
mellowing touch of age., and polished until it reflected the goblet
of white and crimson phlox, which Kegina had placed in the
centre ; — a few chairs, some swinging shelves filled with books,
— and a couch or lounge covered with pink and white chintz,
whereon lay a pillow with a freshly ironed linen case, whose
ruffled edges were crisply fluted.

Upon the whitewashed hearth were several earthen pots,
filled with odorous geraniums ; and over the two windows that
opened on a narrow border of ground between the house wall
and the street, were carefully trained a solanum jasminoides
white with waxen stars, and an abutilon whose orange bells
striped and veined with scarlet, swung in every breath of air
that fluttered the spotless white cotton curtains, so daintily
trimmed with a calico border of rose-coloured convolvulus. In
the morning, when the sun shone hot upon the front of the
building, this room was very bright and cheerful, but its after-
noon aspect was dim, cool, shadowy. A gentle breeze now floated
across a bunch of claret-hued carnations growing in a wooden
bo^ on the ^indow-sill, which was on a level with the ground

.1,

INFtLIOM.

S27

outside, and brought on Its waves that subtle sp! ess that
dwells only in the deep heart of pinks.

In an old-fashioned maplewood rocking chair, sat Mrs. Mason,
with her wasted and almost transparent hands resting on her
open Bible. The faded face which in early years had boasted
of unusual comeliness, bore traces of severe sorrows meekly
borne ; and the patient sweetness that sat on the lips and
smiled serenely in the mild gray eyes, invested it with that
irresistible charm, that occasionally renders ripe old age more
attractive than flushing dimpled youth. Her hair, originally
pale brown, was as snow-white as the tarlatan cap that now
framed it in a crimped border ; and her lustreless black dress
was relieved at the neck and wrists by ruffles of the same
material.

On the Bible lay her spectacles, and upon the third finger of
the left hand was a gold ring, worn so thin that it was a mere
glittering thread.

Near her sat Eegina, playing with a large white and yellow
cat that now and then sprang to catch a spray of lemon-scented
geranium, which was swung teasingly just beyond the reach of
her velvet paws.

" I am glad my dear, to here you speak so kindly of the
members of your guainan's family. I have never yet seen
that person who has not some redeeming trait. Many years
ago, I knew Louise Neville very well. She was then the hand-
some happy bride of a young naval officer, who was soon after
drowned in the Bay of Biscay ; — before the birth of their only
child — Olga. At first Louise seemed heart-broken by the loss
of her husband, but not more than two years afterward, she
married Mr. Godwin Palma, who was reputed very wealthy. I
have not seen her since Olga was a child, but have heard that
her second husband was an exceedingly stem, exacting man ;
treating her with far less tenderness than she received from poor
Leo Neville, who was certainly very fond of her. Mr. Godwin
Palma died suddenly one day, while riding down in his carriage
to his office on Wall Street, but he made a will only a few
weeks previous, in which he bequeathed all his fortune — except
a small annuity to Louise — to his son Erie, whose own mother
had possessed a handsome estate. Louise contested the will,
but the court sustained it ; and I have heard that Mr. Erie
Palma has always treated her with marked kindness and respect^

228

IITFELIOE.

and he provides liberallj^ for her and Olga. Louise is a prond
ambitious woman, fond of pomp and splendour ; — but in those
tastes she was educated, and I always liked her, valued her
kindness of heart, and strict integrity of purpose."

"You do not know my guardian) "

" J never met him till the day he brought you first to see me,
and I was surprised to find him so comparatively young a man,
for he is rapidly building up a very enviable reputation in his
profession. He has been quite generous in his treatment of
some relatives, who were at one time much reduced. His
father's sister, Julia Palma, married a dissipated young physician
named Eoscoe, and your guardian has almost entirely educated
one of the boyc; ; sent him to college, and then took him into
his law office, besides assisting in the maintenance of Mrs. Bos-
coe, who died about three years ago. Regina, I had a letter
from Elise Lindsay, since you were here. She sends kindest
messages of love to you, and says you must not allow new
* friends to supplant old ones. She mentioned also, that the cli-
mate of India did not seem very desirable for Douglass, who
has been quite sick more than once, since his setuemunt in
Bohilcund. I am glad that Elise has gone to Douglass, for
his father died of consumption, and I always feared he might
have inherited the tendency, though his constitvition seems
tolerably good. After Peyton's death, she had nothing to keep
her from her noble boy. God grant that India may never
prove as fatal to all her earthly hopes as it has been to mine."

A spasm of pain made her gentle patient face quiver, and
Begina remembered that Mrs. Mason's only daughter had mar-
ried a gentleman connected with the English Board of Missions,
and with her husband and babe perished in the Sepoy butchery.

Dropping the fragrant geranium sprig that so tormented the
cat, the girl's fingers interlaced tightly, and she asked almost
under her breath :

*' Is Mr. Lindsay's health seriously impaired 9 "

" I hope not. Elise merely said he had had two severe at-
tacks of pneumonia, and it rendered her anxious. No man of his
age ranks higher in the ministry than Douglass Lindsay, and
as an Oriental scholar, I am told he has few equals in this coun-
try. His death would be a great loss to his church, and "

" Oh, do not speak of it ! How can you 1 It would kill
his mother," cried Begina, passionately, clasping her hands
across her eyes, as if to shut out some horrible visioji.

INFMLIfTM.

22?

** Let ns pray Gk>d to mercifully avert such a heavy blow.
But, my dear, keep this in mind — with terrible bereavement
comes the strength to bear it. The strength of endurance — a
strength bom only in the darkest hours of a soul's anguish ;
and at last when affliction has done its worst, and all earthly
hope is dead, patience, with tender grace and gentb healing,
mutely sits down in hope's vacant place. To-day I found a
passage in a new book, that impressed me as beautiful, strong,
and true. Would you like to hear it % "

" If it will teach me patience, please let me hear it."

" Give me the book lying on the lounge."

She opened it, put on her spectacles, and read :

" ' There is the peace of surrendered, as well as of fulfilled
hopes — the peace, not of satisfied, but of extinguished longings,
— the peace, not of the happy love and the secure fireside, but
of unmurmuring and accepted loneliness — the peace, not of the
heart which lives in joyful serenity afar from trouble and from
strife, but of the heart whose conflicts are over, and whose
hopes are buried — the peace of the passionless as well as the
peace of the happy — not the peace which brooded over Eden,
but that which crowned Gethsemane.'

" My dear Begina, only religion brings this blessed calm —
this is, indeed, that promised ' Peace that passeth all under-
standing ; ' and, therefore, we would all do well to heed the
words of Isaiah : ' Their strength is to sit still.' "

Looking reverently up at her pale, worn, placid face, the girl
thought it might have been considered a psalm of Eenunciation.
Almost sorrowfully she answered :

*' I begin to see that there is far more shadow than sunshine
in this world ; the night is longer than the day."

" You are too young to realize such solemn things, and should
endeavour to catch all the dew of life that glistens wi'i^'n your
reach, for the withering heat of the noon will come soon enough,
to even the most favoured. An erroneous impression has too
long prevailed, that religious fervour and a cheerful hopeful
happy spirit are incompatible, that devoutnees manifests itself
in a lugubrious or at least solemn visage, and that a joyous
mirthful temperament is closely allied to ' the world, the flesh
and the devil.' A more mischievous fallacy never found favour.
Innocent happiness in our hearts is acceptable worship to our
God, who has given us the language of joy as He gave to birds
the pov^ r 4i{ diong. In the universal canticle which nature

290

INFEUOE.

sends up to its Creator, shall humanity, the noblest of the
marvellous mechanism, alone be silent ) The innocent joyous-
uess of a pure heart, is better than incense swung in the temples
of the Lord."

" Mrs. Mason I wish to consult you on a subject that hat
given me some anxiety. Would you approve of my attending
the theatre and opera ? I have never vet gone because I
think neither Mr. Hargrove nor Mr. Lmdsay would have
advised me to do so, and I am perplexed about the matter, for
Mr. Palma says that next winter he shall insist on my seeing
the best plays and operas. What ought I to do ? "

" If you were a member of any church which expressly
prohibited such amusements, I should say, do not infringe the
rules which you voluntarily promised to respect and obey; but,
as yet, you have taken no ecclesiastical vows. Habitual attend-
ance Upon such scenes as you refer to, is very apt, I think, to
vitiate the healthful tone of one's thoughts and feelings, but
an occasional visit would probably injure none but very weak
minds. Your guardian, is I daresay, a prudent judicious man
and would be careful in selecting plays that could offend neither
morality nor delicacy. There are many things upon the stage
which are sinful, vicious and vulgar ; but there are hundreds of
books quite as bad and dangerous. As we choose only the
best volumes to read, so be sure to select only pure plays and
operas. ' Lear ' would teach you the awful results of filial
disobedience j ' Merchant of Venice,' the sin of avarice, ' Julius
Cesar ' that of unsanctified ambition. There are threads of
wisdom, patience, charity and heroism which might be gathered
from the dramatic spindle, and woven advantageously into the
garment of our daily lives and thoughts. There is a marvellous
pathos, fervour, sanctity in the * Casta Diva ' of ' ^^orma,' that
appeals to my soul as scarcely any other piece of music ever
has done, and I really should be glad to hear it played on the
organ every Sunday morning. Why 1 Because I recognise in
it the spirit of Prayer from a tortured erring human soul, in-
voking celestial aid, and to me it is no longer a pagan Druid
song, trilled by the popular Prima-Donna at the Academy of
Music, but a hymn to the heavenly powers, as consecrated as
9iXi Ave Marian or as Eossini's 'Inflammatus. Are we lower
than the bees, who wisely discriminate between pure honey
and poisonous sweets) Touching these things, Lowell has
nobly set us an example of :

INFBUCE.

231

' Pleading for whatsoever touches life
With apward iui pulse : be He nowhere else,
God IB in all that liberates and lifts,
^ In all that humbles, is eetens and consoles.*

I think that in the matters you mention you may lafely defer
to your guardian's wishes, bearing always in mmd this iact,
that he professes no religious faith ; and praying God's Holy
Spirit to guide and keep your heart faithful and pure."

Regina longed to ask something more explicit concerning
the stage, but the thought of her mother peremptorily lorbade
a discussion, that seemed to imply censure of her profession.

" There is the bell for service. Are you not going to church
this afternoon 1 "

" No, dear, I am not very well, and besides I promised to
stay at home and see a poor old friend, who has no time to
visit during the week and is just now in great affliction. You
are not afraid to go alone 1 "

" Not afraid, Mrs. Mason, still I wish you could go with
me. When you answer dear Mrs. Lindsay's letter ask her not
to forget me, and tell her I am trying to do right in all things,
as far as I can see my way. Good-bye, Mrs. Mason."

She bent her head, s*" that the faded placid lips could kiss
her cheek, and went out into the quiet street.

Instead of turning homeward, she hastened in an opposite
direction, toward a small brick church, whose bell was nuging,
and whose afternoon service she had several times attended
with Mrs. Mason. Walking more slowly as she approached
the building, she had not yet reached it, when steps which she
had heard behind her for several minutes, paused at h^r side.

" Regina; is this the way home ? "

" Good evening, Mr. Palma. I am going to church."

Although he had been absent a week, he did not even offer
his hand, and it never occurred to her to remind him of the
omission.

" Are you in the habit of coming here alone ? If so, your
visits to this neighbourhood cease."

" Mrs. Mason has always accompanied me until this after-
noon, and as she could not leave home, I came alone."

*' I prefer you should not utt3nd strange churches, without a
companion, and now I will see you safely home."

She looked up, saw a few persons ascending the broad steps,
and htr soul rose in rebellion.

232

INFELICE.

" What possible harm can overtake me in God's house 1
Don't try to stand between me and my duty."

" Do you not consider obedience to my wishes part of your
duty?" •

" Sometimes, Sir ; but not when it conflicts with my con-
science."

" What is conscience 1 "

" The feeling God put into my soul when He gave it to me,
to teach me right from wrong."

" Is it 1 And if you were a Calmuck or a Mongol, it would
teach you to reverence Shigemooni as the highest god ; and bid
you fall down and worship Dalai-lama, praying him to give
you a pill of consecrated dough."

" You mean that conscience is merely education 9 Even L
it should be so, which is not true, I think ; the ^dble says ' the
heathen are a law unto themselves,' and Gv>d knows they
worship the best they can find, until revelation shows them
their error. But I do not live in Lassa, and my going to church
here is not akin to Lamaism. Nothing .vill happen to me, and I
assure you, Sir, I will come home as soon as the service is over."

" Is your eternal salvation dependent on church going 1 "

" I don't know — I rather think not ; because if it were im-
possible for me to attend service, the Lord would know it, and
He only requires what He makes possible. But at least you
must admit it cannot harm me, and I enjoy coming to this
church more than any I have seen since I left our own dear
old one at V "

*' It is a small, very plain afifair, in no respect comparable to
St. Thomas's Church, where Mrs. Palma takes you every Sunday
morning. Were you not there to-day 1 "

"Yes, Sir— but "

« But— what 1 Speak out."

" Perhaps i ought not to say so ; and it may be partly my
fault, but indeed there seems to me more real religion in this
plain, little chapel — at least it does me more good to come
here."

" For instance, it incites and helps you to defy your guardian,
on the street 1 "

Until now she had resolutely kept her face set churchward,
but as he uttert J the last words in a severer tone than he often
used in conversation with her, she turned quite around, and
retraced her steps.

INFEUOS.

tss

Walking beside her, he could only see the long, soft lashes of
her downcast eyes, and the firm compression of her mouth.

" Little girl, are you very angry % "

She looked up quickly into his brilliant smiling eyes, and her
cheek dimpled.

" Mr. Palma, I wanted so very much to go, and I do feel
disappointed ; but not angry."

" Then why do you not ask me to go with you 1 "

*' You go there f Is it possible, that you would ever do auch
a thing % Really would you go. Sir ? "

"Try me."

" Please Mr. Palma — ^go with me."

He raised his hat, bowed and said :

" I will."

"Oh, thank you!"

They turned and walked back in sUence until they reached
the door, and he asked :

" Are the pews free 1 "

" Yes Sir, but Mrs. Mason and I generally sit yonder by that
column."

" Very well, you must pilot me."

She turned into the side aisle next the windows, and they
seated themselves in a pew just beyond the projection of the
choir gallery.

The edifice was small, but the altar and pulpit were hand-
some, and, though the windows were unstained, the light was
mellowed by buff inside blinds. The seats were by no means
filled, and the congregation was composed of people whose
appearance denoted that many belonged to the labouring class,
and none to the Brahmin caste of mimonnaires, though ul were
neatly and genteelly apparelled.

As the silver-haired pastor entered the pulpit, the organ
began to throb in a low prelude, and four gentlemen bore
shsdlow waiters through the assemblage to receive the contribu-
tion for the " Destitute." Mr. Palma saw his companion take
something from her glove, and when the waiter reached them
and she put in her small alms, which he judged amounted to
twenty-five cents, he slipped his fingers in his vest pocket and
dropped a bill on the plate.

" Is all that huge sum going to India, to the missionaries t "
he gravely whispered.

" It is to feed the poor of this churcL"

234

JUrSLlOM.

As the organ swelled fuller and louder, Mr. Palma saw
Jiegina start and listen intently, then the choir began to sing,
and she turned very pale and shut her eyes. He could discover
nothing remarkable in the music, " Oh ! that I had wings ;"
but as it progressed, the girl's emotion increased — ^became almost
uncontrollable, and through the closed lids the tears forced
themselves rapidly, while she trembled visibly and seemed trying
to swallow her sobs.

He moved closer to her, and the blue eyes opened and looked
at him with such pleading deprecating misery in their beautiful
depths, that he was touched, and involuntarily laid his ungloved
hand on her little bare fingers. Instantly they closed around
it, twining like soft tendrils about his, and unconsciously his
clasp tightened.

All through the singing her tears fell unchecked, sliding over
her cheeks and upon her white dress, and when the congregation
knelt in prayer, Mr. Palma only leaned his head on the back of
the pew in front, and watched the figure bowed on her knees
close beside him, crying silently, with her face in her hands.

When the prayer ended and the minister announced the
hymn, she seemed to have recovered her composure, and finding
the page, oOfered her pretty gilt hymn-book to her guardian.
He accepted it mechanically, and during the reading of the
Scriptures that soon followed, he slowly turned over the leaves
until he reached the title-page. On the fly-leaf that fluttered
over, was written : " Eegina Orme. With the love and prayers
of Douglass Lindsay."

Closing the book, he laid it in his lap, leaned back and folded
his arms over his chest.

The preacher read the sixty-third Psalm, and from it selected
Iiis text :

" My soul foUoweth hard after thee."

Though certainly not a modern Chrysostom, he was an ear-
nest, faithful, and enlightened man, full of persuasive fervour ;
and to the brief but interesting discourse he delivered, a dis-
course occasionally sprinkled with felicitous metaphors and
rounded with several eloquent passages, Mr. Palma appeared
to listen quite attentively. Once a half smile moved his mouth
as he wondered what his associates at the " Century " would
think, if they could look in upon him there, otherwise his
deportment was most gravely decorous. As he heard the
monotonous rise and fall of the minister's tone, the words soon

INFELICE,

235

ceased to bear any meaning to ears that gradually caught other
cadences long hushed ; the voice of Memory calling him from
afar oflF — back to the dewy days of his early boyhood —when
walking by his mother's side he had gone to church, and held
her book as he now held Segina's. Since then, how many
changes time had wrought ) How holy seemed that distant,
dim, church-going season ? ^

At long intervals, and upon especially august occasions he had
now and then attended service in the elegant church where his
pew-rent was regularly paid ; ^ut not until to-day had he been
attacked by the swarming rouiiniscences of his childhood, all
eagerly babbling of the long-forgotten things once learned :

*' At that best academe, a mother's knee,"

From the benignant countenance of the earnest preacher, his
keen cold eyes began to wander, and after awhile rested upon
the pale tender face at his side.

Except that the lashes were heavy with moisture that no
longer overflowed in drops, there was no trace of the shower
that had fallen, for hers was one of those rare countenances, no
more disfigured by weeping, then the pictured Mat&r Dolorosa
by the tear on her cheek.

To-day in the subdued sadness that filled her heart, while
she pondered the depressing news from India, her face seemed
etherealized, singularly sublimated, and as he watched the
expression of child-like innocence, the delicate tracery of nose
and brows, the transparent purity of the complexion, and the
unfathomable purplish blue of the eyes uplifted to the pulpit, a
strange thrill never experienced before, stirred his cold stony
heart, and quickened the beat of his quiet, slow, steady pulse.

He had smiled and bowed before lovely women of various
and bewitching types of beauty, had his abstract speculative
ideal of feminine perfection, and had been feted, flattered,
coaxed, baited and welcomed to many shrines, whereon grace,
wit, and wealth had lavished their choicest charms ; but the
carefully watched and well-regulated valvular machine he waa
pleased to designate his heart, had never as yet experienced a
warmer sensation than that of mere critical admiration for
classic contours, symmetrical figures, or voluptuous Paul Ver-
onese colouring.

Once only, early in his professional career, he had coolly,
dispassionately, sordidly, and with a hand as firm as Astrsea's

236

INFELICE,

ovfUy held the matrimonial scales, and weighed the influence
and preferment that he could command by a politic and brilliant
marriage, against the advantages of freedom and the glory of
unassisted success and advancement. For the lady herself, a
bright mirthful pretty brunette, who in contrast with his frigid
nature seemed a gaudy tropical bird fluttering around a stolid
arctic auk, he had not even a shadow of aflection ; and looked
quite beyond th^graceful lay figure draped with his name, to
the lofty judicial eminence where her distinguished father held
sway, and could rapidly elevate him.

No softer emotion than ambition had suggested the thought,
and, after a patient balancing of the opposing weights of selfish-
ness, he had utterly thrown aside the thought of entangling
himself in any Hymeneal snares.

Probably few men have attained his age without having
breathed vows of love into some rosy ear, but his colossal
professional pride and vanity had absolutely absorbed him — left
him neither room nor time for other and softer sentiments.

The numerous attempts to entrap his dim chilly afiTections,
had somewhat lowered his estimate of female delicacy ; and
possessing the flattering assurance that no fair hand was held
too high for his grasp, should he choose to claim it, he had
grown rather arrogant. Of coquetry he was entirely innocent .
it seemed too cwitemptible even for mere sport, and he scorned
the thought of feeding his vanity by feminine sacrifices.

Too sternly proud to owe success to any but his own will and
resolution, he had never proposed or even desired to marry
any woman, and was generally regarded as a hopelessly icy
bachelor, whom all welcomed with smiles, but despaired of cap
tivating.

After forty years' sole undisputed mastery of his heart, some-
thing suddenly and unexpectedly wakened there — groped
about — would not " down" at his bidding ; and a new sensa-
tion made itself felt.

A brief sentence of Elliott Roscoe had, like Moses' rod,
smitten the rock of his aflection, and forthwith gushed a flood
of riotous feelings never known before. At the thought of any
man claiming Regina's perfect dainty lips, and peerless impe-
rial eyes, a hot wave of indignant protest rolled over his
whole being. That she should belong to another, now seemed
monstrous, sacrilegious, and all the strength of his own nature
rose in mutiny. '

INFELJCE.

237

Never until to-day had he analyzed his sentiments towards
his ward ; never had he deemed it possible for his wisely dis-
ciplined heart to bow before anything of flesh ; but now, as he
sat looking at the sweet face, he saw that rebellion desperate
and uncompromising had broken out in his rigidly governed,
long down-trodden nature, and with the prompt vigilance
habitual to him, he calmly counted the cost of crushing the in-
surrection.

Shading his countenance with his fingers, he deliberately
studied her features ; even the modelling of the waxen hands
folded together on her knee ; and then and there — weighing
all his achievements, all his pictured future, so dazzling with
coveted ermine — he honestly confessed to his own soul that
the universe held for him, nothing so precious as that fair pure
young girl.

How superlatively presumptuous appeared Elliott Eoscoe's
avowed admiration and preference ? How dared that humble
impecunious divinity student, now sojourning in the " Land of
the Veda," lift his eyes towards this priceless treasure, which
Erie Palma wanted to call his own )

Just then Regina took her hymn-book to search for the clo-
sing verses designated by the minister, and, as she opened the
volume, the inscription on the fly-leaf showed conspicuously.
The lawyer set his teeth, and the fingers of his right hand
opened, then closed hard and tight, a gesture in which he often
unconsciously indulged, when resolving on some future step.

The benediction was pronounced, and the congregation dis-
persed.

Walking silently beside her guardian until they had proceeded
some distance from the church, Regina wondered how she
should interpret the grave preoccupied expression of his counte-
nance. Had he been sadly bored, and did he repent the sacri-
fice, made to gratify her caprice %

" Mr. Palma, I am very much obliged to you for kindly con-
senting to accompany me. Of course, I know this church and
service must seem dull and plain in comparison with that to
which you are accustomed, but I hope you liked Mr. Kelsey's
sermon ? "

" In some respects, this afternoon has been a revelation, and
I am sure I shall never forget the occasion."

" Oh ! I am so glad you enjoyed going," she said, with evi-
dent relief.

♦* I did not intend to convey that impression ; — ^you infer

238

JNFELIOB.

more than my words warrant. I was thinking of other and
quite irrelevant matters, — and to be frank, — really did not
listen to the sermon. Do you attend church from a conviction,
that penance conduces to a sanitary improvement of the
souir'

" Penance ? I do not exactly understand you. Sir."

''I certainly have never seen you weep so bitterly ; not even
when I ruthlessly tore you from the kind sheltering arms of
Mother Aloysius, and Sister Angela. You appeared quite
heart-broken. Was it contrition for your manifold transgres-
sions 1 " f

"0 no, Sir I"

" You are resolved not to appoint me your confessor 1 "

"Mr. Palma" her voi^e faltered.

« Well— go on."

" I wag very much distressed ; it made my heart ache."

'* So I perceived. But was it the bare church, or the min-
ister, or my ward's sensitive conscience 1 "

After a moment, she lifted her misty eyes to meet his, and
answered tremulously :

" It was the singing of * Oh ! that I had wings.' I have not
heard it since that dreadful time I sang it last, and you ean't
possibly understand my feelings."

"Certainly not, unless you deign to explain the circum-
stances."

" Dear Mr. Hargrove asked me to go in and play on the
organ in the library and sing that sacred song for him. I sang
it, and played for a while on the organ, and then went back to
him on the verandah — and he had died — alone in his chair,
while I was singing ' Oh ! that I had wings.' To-day, when
the choir began it, everything came back so vividly to me — the
dear happy home at the Parsonage, the supper I had set for my
dear Mr. Hargrove, the flowers in the garden, the smell of the
carnations, the sound of the ring-doves in the vines, the moon-
light shining so softly on his kind face and white hair — and
Oh ! "

They walked the length of two squares before either spoke
again.

" I was not aware that you performed on the organ."

" Mrs. Lindsay gave me lessons, and I used the cabinet
organ."

" Do you prefer it to the piano % "

** Fof sacre4 songs I do."

INFEUCB.

2S9

** If we had one in the library, do you suppose you would
ever sing for me 1 "

"If you really desired it, perhaps, I would try ; but of course
I know very well you care nothing for my music ; and our
dear old hymns and chants would only tire and annoy you."

" To whom does ' our * refer % "

" My dear Mr. Hargrove, and Mrs. Lindsay, and her son.
We so often sang quartettes at home, in the long, delicious,
peaceful summer evenings, before the awful affliction came and
separated us."

The lamps were lighted, and night closed in, with silvery con-
stellations overhead, before Mr. Palma and his companion were
near their destination. As they crossed a street, he said,
abruptly breaking a long silence :

" Take my arm."

Never before had such a courtesy been tendered, and she
looked up in unfeigned surprise.

He was so tall, so stately, that the proposition seemed to her
preposterous.

" Can't you reach it 1"

He took her hand, drew it beneath, and placed the fingers
on his arm.

" Of late you have grown so rapidly, your head is almost on
a level with my shoulder ; and you are quite tall enough now
to accept my escort."

When they were within a square of home, Mr. Palma said
very gravely :

" This afternoon, I indulged one of your whims ; now will
you reciprocate, and gratify a capriv^e of your guardian 1 "

" Have you caprices % I think not ; but I will oblige you if
I can do so."

'' Thank you. In future you must never walk to see Mrs.
Mason ; always go in the carriage, and I am unwilling that you
should be out as late as this, unless Mrs. Palma accompanies
you, or I am with you. You need not ask my reasons ; it is
sufficiant that I wish it, and it is my caprice to be obeyed
without questions. One thing more. I do not at all like your
name — never did. Latinity is not one of my predilections, and
Eegina, EegincB, Beginam wearily remind me of the classical
sloiigh of declensions, and conjugations — of my Livy, Sallust,
Tacitus. In my mind you have always been associated with
the white lilies that you held at the convent, the first time I

240

JNFELJCB.

saw you — that you held to your heart while asleep on the cars ;
and hereafter, when only you and I are present, I intend to in-
dulge the caprice of calling my ward — Lily."

CHAPTER XVIII.

|ONDER they come ! They have just left the carriage,
and as usual she is escorted by her body-guard ;
those grim old fogies, who watch her like a pair of
gray-owls. Now Doctor, you must contrive an in-
troduction."

General Ben4 Laurance raised his gold eye-glass, and looked
curiously toward a group of three persons who were walking
amid the ruins of Pozzuoli.

His companion, Dr. Plymley, who was examining an inscrip-
tion, turned around and looked in the direction inmcated.

" Are you sure % I am quite near-sighted."

" Very sure, for no other fignre could be mistaken for hers.
By all the gods ever worshipped here, she is the loveliest woman
I ever saw ; but as coy as a maid of fifteen. The fact that she
secludes herself so rigidly, only stimulates curiosity, and I have
sworn a solemn oath to make her acquaintance ; for it is some-
thing novel in my experience to have my overtures rejected,
my courtesies ignored."

** Come this way, Ceneral. This encounter must appear
purely accidental, for Madame Orme is very peculiar, very
suspicious ; and ii she imagines we planned this excursion to
meet her, or left Naples with the intention of joining her party,
the chances are that I as well as you would be snubbed. In
her desire to avoid societv and personal attention, one might
suppose her an escaped abbess from some convent, instead of a
popular actress. It was with much difSculty that I prevailed
on her to receive my son and wife one afternoon ; as she re-
marked that her object in coming here was to secure health,
not acquaintances. In treating her professionally, I was called

JNrBLIOE.

241

upon to prescribe for what, in her case, is more than ordinary
sleeplessness, is veritably pervigilium ; and when she refused
opiates, I asked if there were not some trouble weighing upon
her mind which prevent<> " her from sleeping. Her reply was
singular : ' Many yeaia uave passed since I became a widow,
and was forced to leave my only child in America, and the
power of sound healthy sleep has deserted me.' Even in
Naples, her beauty attracts attention wherever she is seen."

" Certainly I am not a tyro in these matters, and have
probably had as much experience as any other man of my years
and well improved opportunities, and you can form an estimate
of my appreciation of her charms, when I tell you I have fol-
lowed her since the night I first saw her on the stage at Milan.
I see your wife beckoning us to join her."

Although sixty-five years old, Gen. Laurance carried himself
as erectly as the son he left in Paris, and his proud bearing and
handsome face seemed to contradict the record of years that
had passed so lightly over him. A profusion of silver threads
streaked the black locks that scorned all artificial colouring, and
his moustache and beard were quite grizzled, but as he stood
tracing triangles on the sand with the point of his light cane,
and pushed back the hat from his heated brow, no one unac-
quainted with his history would have deemed him more than
fifty — a man of distinguished appearance, commanding stature,
with rather haughty, martial mien, healthful ruddy complexion
and sparkling blue eyes keen and incisive.

From boyhood Self had been his openly and devoutly wor-
shipped god, and, upon its altars, conscience-had long ago been
securely bound and silenced. Pride of family, love of pomp,
power and luxury, and an inordinate personal vanity were the
predominating characteristics of a n^n, who indulged his
inclinations, no matter how devious the paths into which they
strayed ; nor how mercilessly obstacles must be trampled down
in order to facilitate the accomplishment of his purposes.
Naturally neither cruel nor vindictive, he had gradually grown
pitiless in all that conduced to self-aggrandizement, or self-
indulgence j incapable of a generosity that involved even slight
sacrifice, a polished handsome epicurean, an experienced man
of the world, putting aside all scruples in the attainment of his
selfish aims.

From wholly politic motives, and in order to extend his es-
tates and increase his revenue, he bad ^lar^ed early in life, and

342

INFELiag.

his affection, never bestowed upon bis wife, had centred in their
only child, Cuthbert. When death removed the unloved
mother, freedom was joyfully welcomed, and the memory of
his neglected bride rarely visited the heart, which was not in-
vulnerable to grace and beauty.

The consummation of an alliance between his son and Abbie
Ames, the banker's daughter, had cost him much manoeuvring,
and tedious diplomacy, for, like his father, Cuthbert was fas-
tidious in his tastes, and an ardent devotee to female beauty ;
but when finally accomplished, G«n. Laurance considered his
paternal obligations fully discharged, and thenceforth roamed
from city to city, sipping such enjoyment as money, aristo-
cratic 5to<tM, urbane manners, and a heritage of well preserved
good-looks enabled him to taste at will.

Six months before, he had first seen Madame Orme as
" Deborah," in Mosenthal's popular drama, and charmed by
her face and figure, had attempted to make her acquaintance.
I3ut his floral offerings had been rejected, his jewels and notes
returned, his presentation refused, his visits interdicted ; and,
as usually occurs in natures like his, opposition to his wishes
intensified them ; cold indifference and. denial only deepened
and strengthened his determination to crush all barriers. His
pride was wounded, his vanity sorely piqued, and to compel
her acknowledgement of his power, her submission to his sway,
became for the while his special aim, his paramount purpose.
Hence he loitered at Naples, seeking occasions — Ijring in wait
for an opportunity to open a campaign that promised him new
triumphs.

Dr. Plymley was an English physician travelling with an
invalid wife and consumptive son, and, having been consulted
by Mrs. Orme on several occasions in Milan, had at length
been prevailed upon by Gen. Laurance to arrange an appar-
encly casual introduction.

It was a cloudless spring day, and leaving Mr. and Mrs.
Waul to read a package of American papers, Mrs. Orme walked
away toward the lonely outlines of the Serapeon.

The delicious balmy atmosphere, the interest of the objects
that lined the drive from Naples, and the exercise of wander-
ing from point to point had brought a delicate glow to her
cheeks, and a brighter carmine to her lips ; and beneath the
white chip hat, with its wreath of clustering pink convolvulus

INFELIOE,

243

lying on her golden hair, the lovely face seemed almost unsur-
passed in its witchery.

She wore a sea-green dress of some soft fabric that floated in
the wind, as she moved, and over her shoulders was wound a
white fleecy mantle fastened at the throat by a costly green
cameo, which also secured a spray of lemon flowers, that
lavished their fragrance on the bright warm air. Closing her
parasol, she walked down to the ruined Temple, and approached
the wonderful cipoUino columns, that bear such mysterious at-
testation of the mutations of land and sea, of time and human
religions. Since the days of Agrippina and Julia, — had a
fairer prouder face shone under those hoary marble shafts, and
mirrored itself in the marvellous mosaic floor, — than that which
now looked calmly down on the placid water flowing so silently
over the costly pavements, where sovereigns once reverently
trodi

In imagination she boheld the vast throng of worshippers,
who two thousand years ago had filled the magnificent court,
where the sun was now shining unimpeded ; and above the
low musical babble of wavelets breaking upon the chiselled
marbles, rose the hum of the generations sleeping to-day in the
columbaria, and the chant of the priests before the statue of
Serapis, which sacrilegious hands had borne away from his
ancient throne. Were the blue caverns of the Mediterranean
not deep enough to entomb these colossal relics of that dim
'vast Past, whose feebly ebbing tide still drifts so mournfully, so
solemnly, so mysteriously upon our listening souls 1 Did com-
passionate Neptune — tenderly guarding the ruins of his own
desecrated fane, once resonant with votive paeans, now echo-
ing only sea-bom murmurs — refuse sepulture to Serapis, and
again and again return to the golden light of land the sculptured
friezes that could find permanent rest neither upon sea nor
shore %

To-day the lonely woman standing amid crumbling cornices
and architraves, wondered whether the sunken pavement of the
Serapeon were a melancholy symbol of her own blighted youth,
never utterly lost to view, often overwhelmed by surging waves
of bitterness, hate and despair, but now and then lifted by
memory to the light, and found as fresh and glowing as in the
sacred bygone ? To-day buried beneath the tide of sorrow, to-
morrow shining clear and imperishable ?

Gazing out across the sapphire sea that mirrored a cloudless

244

INFELIOE.

sapphire sky, Mrs. Orme't beautiful solemn face seemed almost
a part of the classic surroundings, a statue of Fate shaken from
its ancient niche ; and the cameo Sappho on her breast was not
more faultlessly cut and polished, than the features that rose
above it.

A shadow fell aslant the glassy wrter through which was
visible the glint of the submerged pavement, and turning her
head, she saw the familiar countenance of her quondam phy-
sician.

" A glorious day. Dr. Plymley 1 "

" Glorious indeed, Madame, for a dinner at Baise. I hope
you are feeling quite well, and bright as this delicious sunshine 9
Mrs. Orme, will you allow me the favour of presenting my frieud
Gen. Laurance, who requests the honour of an introduction 1 "

She had been unaware of the presence of his companion,
who was concealed from view, and as he stepped forward and
took off his hat| ahe drew herself up, and at last they were face
to face.

How her brown eyes widened ; lightened ; and what a sudden
whiteness fell upon her features, as if June roses had been
smitten with snow ! Holding with both hands the frail fluted
ivory handle of her parasol, it snapped, and the carved leopard
that constituted the head fell with a ringing sound upon one of
the marble blocks, thence into the sluggish water beneath;
but her eyes had not moved from his, seemed to hold them, as.
Tnth some magnetic spell. A radiant smile parted her pale
lips, and she said in her wonderfully sweet, rich, liquid tones
which sank into people's ears and hearts, as some mellow old
wine creeps through the gray cells of the brain, 1t>ringing lotos
dreams :

" Is the gentleman before me, General Ben^ Laurance of
America 1 "

" I am, Madame ; and supremely happy in the accident which
enables me to make an acquaintance, so long and earnestly
desired. Surely the ruiAs amidst which we meet, must be
those, not of the Serapeon, but of some antique shrine of
Good Fortune, and I vow a libation worthy of the boon re-
ceived."

With that unwavering gaze still upon his dark blue eyes, she
drew off her glove and held out her fair hand, smiling the while,
as Circe doubtless did before her.

** I am sincerely glad to meet General Laurance, of whom I

^^•^M

INFMLIOM.

34d

heard tho AmericAD Minister at Pari* speak in fflovfing terms
of oommendation. I believe I also met a son of Gen. I^uranoe
in Paris 1 Certainly he resembles vou most strikingly."

As he received into his own, the pretty pearly hand, and
bowed low over it, he felt agreeably surpriaeu by the cordiality
of a reception which appeared utterly inconsistent with her
stern contemptuous rejection of his previous attempts to form
her acquaintance : and he could not quite reconcile the beamine
•mile on her lip, and the sparkling radiance in her eyes, with
the pallor which he saw nettle swutly upon her face, when his
name was first pronounced.

" Ah ! My son Cuthbert 1 Handsome young dog, and, like
his father, finds beauty the most powerful magnet. Where
did you meet him 1 "

" Only once, when he was introduced by our Minister, who
deputized him to deliver to me some custom-house regulations.'*

" Did you meet Mrs. Laurance 1 "

" Your wife, Sir 1"

Annoyance instantaneously clouded his countenance, and Dr.
Plymley gnawed his lower lip, to hide a smile.

" My son's wife. Cuthbert and I are the only survivors of
my own immediate family."

" If Madame had not so rigidly adhered to her recluse habits,
she could scarcely have failed to learn fr )m his brilliant cam-
paigns in gay society, that the General is unfettered by matri-
monial bonds, and almost as irresistible and popular as his
naughty model D'Orsay."

"Madame, Plymley is a traitor, jealously stabbing my spot-
less reputation. I deny the indictment, and appeal to youT'
heavenly charity, praying you to believe that I plead guilty
only to the possession of a heart tenderly vulnerable to the
shafts of grace and beauty."

The earnestness of his tone and manner was unmistakable,
and beneath the bold admiration of his fine eyes, the carmine
came swiftly back to her blanched cheek.

'' Beau Monde and its fashionable foibles constitute a sealed
volume to me. My world is apart from that in which Gen.
Laurance wins myrtle crowns, and wears them so royally."

" When genius like Madame's monopolizes the bay, we less
gifted mortals must even twine myrtle leaves, or else humbl]/
bow, bare of chaplets. But may I ask, why you so sternlj
taboo that social world which you are so pre-eminently fitted

246

INFELICE.

to grace and adorn ? When your worshippers are well nigh
fren/ied with delight, watching you beyond the foot-lights, you
cruelly withdraw behind the impenetrable curtain of seclusion ;
and only at rare intervals allow us tantalizing glimpses of you,
seated in mocking inaccessibility between those two most
abominable ancient Griffons, whose claws and beaks are ever
ferociously prominent. When some desperate deluded adorer
rashly hires a band of Neapolitan experts to stab and bury that
grim pair of jailors in the broad deep grave out there, toward
Procida — the crime of murder will be upon Madame's fair
head."

" And if I answer, that the fine world you love so well, is to
me but as a gray stone 'quarry, wherein I daily toil, solely for
food and raiment for my child and myself — what then 1 "

" Then verily if that be possible, Pygmalion's cold beauty
Were no longer a fable ; and I should turn sculptor. Do you
not find that here, in Parthenope, you rapidly drift into the
classic tide that strands you on Paganism ? "

" Has it borne you one inch away from the gods of your life-
long worship ? "

As she spoke, she bent slightly forward and searched his
bright eyes as if therein floated his soul.

" Indeed I can answer reverently with my hand upon my
heart : Italy has given me a new worship, a goddess I never
knew before. My divinity "

" Belongs, Sir, to the Dii Involuti ! Fortunate provision of
fate — which leaves us at least liberty to deify — you, perhaps,
family pride— Venus, or even avaricious Pluto ; I possibly am-
bition or revenge. We all have our veiled gods, shrouded close
from curious gaze ; ' the heart knoweth his own bitterness, and
the stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy.' "

She had interrupted him with an imperious wave of her
hand, and spoke through closed teeth, like one tossing down a
gage of battle ; but the brilliant smile still lighted her splendid
eyes, and showed the curves of her temptingly beautiful mouth.

" Mrs. Orme, my wife and Percy are waiting for me at the
Amphitheatre, and we have an engagement to dine at Baise.
Can I persuade you to join our party % I promise you a delight-
ful visit to the old home of Rome's proudest patricians, in her
palmiest days ; and a dinner eaten in accordance with General
Laurance's suggestion on the site of the temple of Venus, or, if
you prefer, upon that of Diana. Will you not contribute the

5 :*

INFELICX.

247

charm of your presence to the pleasure of our excursion 1
Remember I am your physician, and this morning prescribe
BaisB air."

'* You are very kind, doctor, but I devote to-day to Avernus,
Oumse, and the infernal gods. Next week I shall bask at Baise.
Gentlemen, I bid you good-day and a pleasant hour over your
Falemian."

She turned once more to the mysterious solemn face of that
wonderful legendary blue bay, and the light died out of her
countenance, as in a room where the lamps are unexpectedly
extinguished. She started visibly, when a voice close beside
her asked :

" Permit me the pleasure of seeing you to your carriage."

<* I am not going just yet. Gen. Laurance should not de-
tain the doctor's party."

" They have a carriage. I am on horseback, and can easily
overtake them ; but, if I dared, would beg the privilege of
accompanying you, — ^instead of drinking sour wine and smoking
poor cigars among the ivy-wreathed ruins that await me at
Baise. Ah — may I hope % Be generous, banish me not. May
I attend you to-day 1 "

" No Sir. Go pay your devoir to friendship and courtesy.
I have faithful guardians in the two coming yonder to meet me."

She pointed to the heads of Mr. and Mrs. Waul, just visible
over the mass of ruins that intervened, and lifting her handker-
chief, waved it twice.

" You have established a system of signal service, with those
antique ogres, griffons ? Really they resemble crouching cou-
gars, ready to spring upon the unwary who dare penetrate to
the sacred precincts that enclose you. Why do you always
travel with that grim body-guard 1 Surely they are not rela-
tives 1"

'' They are faithful old friends who followed me across the
Atlantic — who are invaluable, and shield me from impertinent
annoyances, to which all women of my profession are more or
less subjected. The world to which you belong, sometimes,
seem disposed to forget that beneath and behind the paint and
powder, false hair and fine tragic airs and costumes they pay
to strangle time for them at S<m Carlo, or Teatro de^ Fiorentini
there breathes a genuine human thing ; — a creature with a true,
pure, womanly heart beating under the velvet, gauze and tiuk-
' eel, — and with blood that now and then boils under unpro-

248

i^rauam

protection finir ^J "*?"• of « f.the^~ t °f?"' "•« lonely
f e« frlewed 3th J"** "solence. For in.t.I!i H* '"'"iw
"» return, a WiTf 7 .^oukrie to mv l^ • ^^''^ wd
««Uy send Sir ■**'^' "ro'y even^?.;T'"y K^ffone, M

*»« into t.^ tf J,t?'%5y *h«> bZrrd, rrTu""" 8^°-

">«««i; often I .» '*''5 Mr. Waul'. SLo^f- *•"««««»

••-t'the^i^" -«<» ">« '"-O'oTlcno'^S^^^ir
. ttor voice was sweef \.«^ „ ^ anytJiing

««fo?parton tol^' yi^oo'^d ^A my I ^en/"®^'^* '^e
"«« of her nataT-^ " 'gwranceof the wonhtr '?'?"'

•nffocating. Xtaf »h"^* ''«' ''«« S nMn°"i!"^ ""k™"

INFELICE.

249

teristics. Hitherto we have been strangers; you are from
America the land of my adoption, and have been presented to
me as a gentleman, as the friend of my physician. Hence-
forth consider that your acquaintance Mrith me dates from
to-day."

She suffered him to take her hand, and bow low over it,
breathing volubly his thanks for her goodness — his protestations
of profound repentance, and undying gratitude; and all the
whUe she shut her eyes as if to hide some approaching horror,
and the blood in her veins seemed to freeze at his touch, gath-
ered like icicles around her aching heart, turning her gradually
to stone.

Taking his offered arm, they walked back toward the spot
where she had desired her companions to await her return, and
as he attempted to analyze the strange perplexing expression
on her chiselled white face, he said :

'' I trust this delicious climate has fully restored your
heal^^^bJ"

'^ ' ' f^nk you. I am as well as I hope to be, until I can go
hoF u America and be once more with my baby."

' I. ^ difficult to realize that you are a mother. How old is
this darling who steals so many of your thoughts 9 "

" Oh — quite a largo girl now ! able to write me long delight-
ful letters ; still in memory and imagination she remains my
baby, for I have not seen her for nearly seven years."

" Indeed ! you must have married when a mere child ? "

" Yes ; unfortunately I did and I lost my husband, became a
destitute widow when I was scarcely older than my own
daughter now is. Mr. Waul, this is your countryman. General
Laurance ; and doubtless you have mutual acquaintances in the
United States."

They proceeded to the carriage, and, as he assisted her to
enter it. General Laurance asked :

" Will you grant me the privilege of accompanying you next
week to Baise 1 "

" I cannot promise that."

" Then allow me to call upon you to-morrow."

" To-morrow vrill be the day for my exercises in Italian reci-
tation and declamation. I am desirous of perfecting myself in
the delicate inflections of this sweet intoxicating language, which
is as deliciousl; ' soft as its native skies, and golden as its Capri
vintage. I long to electrify these fervid enthusiastic yet

250

INFELIOE.

critical Neapolitans, with one of their own favourite impassioned
Italian dramas."

She had taken off her hat which pressed heavily upon her
throbbing brow, and as the sun shone full on the coil of glitter-
ing hair, with here and there a golden tress rippling low on her
snowy neck and ear, her ripe loveliness seized the man's senses
with irresistible witchery; and the thought of her reappearance
as a public idol, of her exhibition of her wonderful beauty to
the critical gaze of all Naples, suddenly filled him with jealous
horror, and genuine pain. As if utterly weary and indifferent,
she leaned back, nestling her head against the cushions of the
carriage ', and looking eagerly, almost hungrily at her, General
Laurance silently registered a vow, that the world should soon
know her no more as the Queen of Tragedy, that ere long, the
only kingdom over which she reigned, should be restricted to the
confines of his own heart and life.

Pale as marble she coolly met the undisguised ardent admir-
ation in his gaze, and bending forward he asked pleadingly :

" Not to-morrow 1 Then next day, Mrs. Orme 1 "

" Perhaps so, if I chance to be at home — ^which is by no
meanLi certain. Naples is a sorceress and draws me hither and
thither at will. General Laurance I wish you a pleasant ride
to Baiffi, and must bid you good-by."

She inclined her head, smiled proudly, and closed her eyes ;
and, watching her as the carriage rolled away, he wondered if
mere fatigue had brought that ghastly pallor to the face, he
knew he was beginning to love so madly.

" Shall we not return to Naples 1 You look weary, and
unhappy," said Mr. Waul, who did not like the expression of
the hopeless, fixed blanched lips.

" No — no ! We go to Avemus. That is the mouth of Hell —
you know — and to Hecate and all the infernal gods I dedicate
this fateful day, and those that will follow. It is only the storm-
beaten worthless wreck of a life, let it drift— on — on — down I
Had I ten times more to lose, I would not shrink back now ; I
would offer all — all as an oblation to Nemesis.

•• • The gods have made tw mighty certainly— \

That we oaa bear each things, and yet not die.***

INFELICB.

261

CHAPTER XIX.

|KGINA, will you touch the bell for Hattie, that she
may come and carry away all this breakfast, which
I have not touched, and the bare sight of which sur-
feits mel From the amount supplied, one might
imagine me a modem Polyphemus — or abjuring the
classics — a second old Mrs. Philipone, who positively drank four
cups of tea at the last ' Kettledrum.' How fervently she should
pray for eontinued peace with China, and low tariff on Pekoe 1
I scarcely know which is the greater hardship, to abstain from
food when very hungry, or to impose upon one's digestive ap-
paratus when it piteously protests, asking for 'rest, only
rest.' "

It was twelve o'clock on a bright cold day in December, but
Olga was still in bed, and as she raised herself, crushing the
pillows under her shoulder for support, Eegina sewing beside
her thought she had never seen her look so handsome.

The abundant ruddy hair tossed about in inextricable confu-
sion, curled and twined, utterly regardless of established style,
making a bright warm frame for the hazel eyes that seemed
unusually keen and sparkling, and the smooth fair cheeks bore
a rich scarlet tinge, rather remarkable from the fact that their
owner had danced until three o'clock that morning.

" Instead of impairing your complexion, late hours seem to
increase its brilliancy."

'' Begina never dogmatize ; it is a rash and unphilosophic
habit that leads you to ignore secondary causes. I have a fine
colour to-day, «r^o the 'German' is superior to any of the patent
chemical cosmetics 1 No such thing. I am tired enough in
body to look just like what I feel, that traditional Witch of
Endor ; but a stroke of wonderful good fortune has so elated
my spirits, that, despite the fatigue of outraged muscles and
persecuted nerves, my exultant pride and delight paint my
cheeks in becoming tints. How puzzled you look ! You
pretty, sober, solemn, demure blue-eyed Annunciation lily, is
there such a thing among flowers 1 If I tripped in the meta-
phor — recollect that I am no adept in floriculture — only know
which blossoms look best on a velvet bonnet or a chip hat,

252

INFBUCE.

and which dainty leaves and petals laid upon my Lucretia
locks, makes me most resemble Hebe. Are yoa consumed by
curiosity 1 "

'' Not quite ; still I should like to know what good fortune
has rendered you so happy ? "

"Wait until Hattie is beyond hearing. Come take away
these dishes, and be sure to eat every morsel of that omelette,
for I would not willingly mortify Octave's culinary vanity.
When you have regaled yourself with it, show him the empty
dish, tell him it was delicious, and that I send thanks. Hattie
say to mamma I shall not be able to go out to-day."

" Miss Eegina I was told to tell you that you must dress for
the rehearsal, as Mrs. Palma will take you in the carriage."

" Very well. I shall be ready, if go I must."

*' Bravo ! How gracefully you break to harness ! But when
these Palma9 hold the bit, it would be idle to plunge, kick, or
attempt to run. They are for rebellious humanity, what Barey
was for unruly horseflesh. Once no fiery colt of Ukraine blood
more stubbornly refused the bridle, than I did ; but Erie Palma
smiled and took the reins, and behold the metamorphosis I
Did he command your attendance at this ' Cantata' 'i "

" Not exactly, but he said he would be displeased if I failed
to comply with Mrs. Brompton's request, because she was an
old friend; and moreover that Professor Hurtzsel had said they
really required my voice for the principal solo."

" Did it occur to you to threaten to break down entirely,
burst into tears, und disgrace things generally, if forced to sing
before such an audience ? Pride is the only lever that will
move him the billionth fraction of an inch ; and he would never
risk the possibility of being publicly mortified by his ward's
failure. He dreads humiliation of any kind, far more than
cholera or Asiatic plague, — or than even the eternal loss of that
infinitesimal microscopic bit of fiint, — which he is pleased in
facetious moments to call his soul."

" Of course I could not threaten him ; but I told him the
distressing truth, that I am very much afraid I shall fail if com-
pelled to attempt a solo in public, for I know the audience at
Mrs. Brompton's will be critical, and I feel extremely timid."

" And he dared you — under penalty of his everlasting wrath,
— to break down 1 Forbade you at your peril, to allow your
frightened heart to beat the long-roll, or the tattoo ? "

" No — though very positive, he was kind, and urged me to

INFELICB.

253

exert my will ; reminding me that the effort was in behalf of
destitute orphans, and that the charitable object should stimu-
late me."

" Charity t Madame Boland incautiously blundered in her
grand apostrophe, — hastily picked up the wrong word to fling
at the heads of her brutal tormentors. Had she lived in this
year of grace, she would certainly have said ; ' O Charity ! how
much hypocrisy is practised in thy name ! * Hom' many grim
and ghastly farces are euR' d in thy honour ! l^harity I heav-
enly maid! what L" mtx meful shams art * ked beneath
thy celestial garmeuwi % i/i late, this fashioiiu^ble amusement
called ' Charity ' has risen to the dignity of a fine art ; and old-
fashioned Benevolence that did its holy work silently and sly-
ly in a corner, — forbidding left hand to eavesdrop, or gossip
with right hand, would never recognise its gaudy, noisy, bust-
ling modem sister. Understand, it is not peculiar to our great
city, — is a rank growth that flourishes all over America, pos-
sibly elsewhere. At certain seasons, when it is positively wicked
to eat chicken salad, porter-house steak, and boned turkey, —
and when the thought of attending the usual round of parties,
gives good people nightmare — ^and sinful folks yet in the bonds
of iniquity — a prospective claim to the pleasant and enticing
style of future amusements which Orcagna painted at Pisa, —
then Charity rushes to the rescue of ennuied society ; and mer-
cifully bids it give Calico Balls for a Foundling Hospital, — or
The Musicale for the benefit of a Magdalen Home, — or a Cantata
and Refreshments to build a Sailors' Bethel, or help to clothe
and feed the destitute. A few ladies dash around in open
carriages and sell tickets, — and somebody's daughters make
ample capital for future investments, as Charity Angels, — by
^riding, dancing, singing and eating in becoming, piquant cos-
tumes, — for the * benefit of the afflicted poor.' "

" Olga ! how unjustly severe you are ! How exceedingly
uncharitable ! How can you think so meanly of the people
with whom you associate intimately 1 "

"I assure you I am not maligning * our set,* only refer to a
universal tendency of this advancing age. I merely strip the
outside rind, and look at the kernel, — and therefore I * see the
better my dear,' — horrified little rustic Red Ridinghood ! Now
you are quite in earnest, and you trudge along carrying your
alms to this poor old Grandmother Charity, — but before long
you will have your eyes opened roughly, and learn as I did,

(i. .

264

INFBLIOB.

that the dear pitiful grandmother is utterly dead and gone ; and
the fangs and claws of the wolf will show you which way your
cake and honey went. A most voracious wolf, this same Public
Charity, and blessed with the digestion of an ostrich. But go
you to the Cantata, and sing your best, and if you happen to
have more bouquets thrown to you than chance to fall at the
feet of pretty little Cecile Brompton, you will hear in the dis*
tance a subdued growl ; — the first note of the lupine fantasia
that inevitably awaits you. Oh ! I wonder if ever this green
earth knew a time when hypocrisy and cant did not prowl even
among the young lambs, — pasturing in innocence, upon the
'thousand hUls' of God ? It seems to me that cant cropped
out in the first pair that ever were born, and Cain has left an
immtinse family. Cant everywhere, — in science and in religion,
— in churches and in courts, — Cant among lawyers, doctors,
preachers, — Cant around the hearth, — Cant even around the
hearse. It is the carnival of Cant, this age of ours, and heartily
as I despise it, I too have been duly noosed and collared, and
taught the buttery dialect, — and I am meekly willing to confess
myself * born thrall ' of Cant."

Regina smiled and shook her head, and tossing her large
strong white hands restlessly over her pillow, Olga continued :

" Indeed I am desperately in earnest, and it is a melancholy
truth that Longfellow tells us : ' Things are not what they
seem.' You appear disinclined to believe that I am one of those
' whited sepulchres,' outwardly fair and comely, but filled with
unsavoury dust and ugly grinning skulls ? Life is a huge sham,
and we are all masked puppets, jumping grotesquely, just as
the strongest hands pull the wires. Regina, I have gone to
and fro upon the earth, long enough to learn, that the most
acceptable present is never labelled advice ; — nevertheless I
would fain warn your unsophisticated young soul against some
of the pitfalls into which I floundered, and got sadly bruised.
Never openly defy or oppose your apparent destiny, so long as
it is in the soft hands of that willow wand — your present guard-
ian. Strategy is better than fierce assault, — bloodless cunning
than a gory pitched battle; — Cambyses' cats took Pemsium
more successfully than the entire Persian army could have
done, and the head dresses Hannibal arranged for his oxen,
delivered him from the clutches of Fabius and the legions. In
my ignorance of polite and prudent tactics, I dashed into the
conflict, yelled, clawed (metaphorically, you understand !) and

INFELIOE.

255

fought like the Austrians at Wagram ; but, of course, came
out always miserably beaten — with trailing banners and manj'
gaping wounds. Regina, you might just as well stand below
the Palisades and fire at them with cartridges of boiled rice as '
make open fight with Erie Palma. Be wise and assume the
appearance of submission, no matter how stubbornly you are
resolved not to give up. Don't you know that Cilician geese
outwit even the Eagles 1 In passing over Taurus, the eeese
always carry stones in their mouths, and thus, by bridling
their gabbling tongues, they safely cross the mountain infested
with Eagles without being discovered by their foes. I com-
mend to you the strategy of silence."

" Do not counsel me to be insincere and deceitful. I con-
sider it dishonourable and contemptible."

"Why will you persist in using words that have been out of
style as long as huge hoop-skirts, coal-scuttle bonnets, and
long-tailed frock-coats ) Once, I know, ugly things and naughty
ways were called out-right by their proper, exact names, but
you should not forget that the world is improving, and nous
avons changi tout cela /

** < We have that sort of oourteey about tts,
We would not flatly call a fool a fool.'

** I dare say some benighted denizens of the remote rural
districts might be found who still say ' tadpole,' whereas we
know only that embryonic batrachians exist, and it is just posp
sible that in the extreme western wilds a poor girl might rashly
state that, being sleepy, she intended ' going to bed,' which
you must admit would be an everlasting stigma and disgrace
here, where all refined people merely ' retire,' leaving the curi-
ous world to conjecture whither— »into the cabinet of a diplo-
matist, the confession box of a Cathedral, the cell of an ancho-
rite, or to that very essential and comfortable piece of household
furniture, which at this instant I fully appreciate, and which
the Komans kept in their cuUculum. Even in my childhood,
when I was soaped, and rubbed and rinsed by my nurse, the
place where the daily ablution was performed, was frankly
called a bath-tub in a bath-room, but now crime de la crime
know only * lavatory.' Just so, in the march of culture and
reform, such vulgarly nude phrases as * deceitful ' have been
taken forcibly to a popular tailor, and when they are let loose
on society again you never dream that you meet anything but

26<

INFMLICM,

becomingly dressed * policy,' and fashionable ' diplomacy ' has
hunted ' 'nsiucerity ' — that other horrid remnant of old-fogyism,
as far away from civilissation as are the lava beds of the Modocs.
If ghosts have risible faculties, how Machiavelli must laugh,
watching us from the Elysian Fields 1 Sometimes silence is
power ; try it."

"But it seems to me the line of conduct you advise is
cowardly — and that I think I could never be."

" It is purely from ignorance that you fail to appreciate the
valuable social organon I want to teach you. Of course you
have heard your guardian quote Emerson 1 He is a favourite
author with some who frequent the classic halls of the < Cen-
tury,' but perhaps you do not know that he has investigated
* Courage,' and thrown new light upon that ancient and rare
attribute of noble souls) Now, my dear, in dealing with Erie
Palma, if you desire to trim the lion's claws, and crimp his
mane, adopt the courage of silence."

" Have you found it successful ? "

" Unfortunately, I did not study Emerson early in life, else I
might have been saved many conflicts, and much useless blood-
shed. Now I begin to comprehend Tenyson's admonition,
' Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers,' and I generously offer
to economize your school-fees, and give you the benefit of my
dearly-bought experience."

** Thank you, Olga ; but I would rather hear about the won-
derful piece of good fortune of which you promised to tell me."

" Ah ! I had almost forgotten. Wonderful, glorious good
fortune ! The price of Circassian skins has gone up in the
matrimonial slave-market."

Begina laid aside her sewing, opened her eyes wider, and
looked perplexed.

'* You have not lived in moral Constantinople long enough
to comprehend the terms of traffic 1 You look like a stupid
fawn the first time the baying of the hounds scares it from its
quiet sleep on dewy moss and woodland violets ! Oh, you fair,
pretty, innocent young thing ! Why does not some friendly
hand strangle you right now, before the pack open on your
trail ? You ought to be sewed up in white silk, and laid away
afely under marble, before the world soils and spoils you."

For a moment a mist gathered in the bright eyes that rested
so compassionately, so affectionately, on the girlish countenance

JNFBLICX,

25'

beside her, and then Olga continued in a lighter and more
mocking tonr : ^

" Can you keep a secret 1 "

"I think so. I will try."

" Well, then prepare to envy me. Until yesterday I wab
poor Olga Neville, with no heritage but my slender ihare of
good looks, and my ample dower of sound pink and white —
•tiTftwberry and cream — flesh, symmetrically spread over a
healthy osseous structur<>. Perhaps you do not know (yet it
would be remarkable if some gossip has not told you) that
poor Mamma was sadly cheated in her second marriage ; and
after bargaining with Mammon never collected her pay, and
was finally cut ofif with a limited annuity which ceases, at her
death. My own poor father left nothing of this world's goods,
consequently I am unprovided for. We have always been
generously and kindly cared for, well fed and handsomely
clothed, by Mr. Erie Palma, who, justice constrains me to say,
in all that pertains to our physical well-being, has been almost
lavish to both of us. But for some years I have lost favour in
his eyes — have lived here as it were, on sufferance — and my
bread of late has not been any sweeter than the ordinary batch
of charity loaves. Yesterday I was a pensioner on his bounty,
but the god of this world's riches, i.e. Plutus, in consideration
no doubt of my long and faithful worship at his altars, has
suddenly had compassion upon me, and to-day I am, prospec-
tively, one of the richest women in New York. Now do you
wonder that Gircassia is so jubilant 7 "

** Do you mean that some one has died and left you a '3r-
tune % "

"Oh no ! — you idiotic cherub ! No such heavenly blessing
as that. Plutus is even shrewder than a Wall Street broker,
and has a sharp eye to his own profits. I mean that at last,
after many vexatious and grievous failures, I am promised a
most eligible alliance — the highest market price. Mr. Silas
Congreve has offered me his real estate, his stocks of various
kinds, his villa at Newport and his fine yacht. Congratulate
me.

" He gives them to you 1 Adopts and makes you his heiress ?
How very good and kind of him, and I am so glad to hear it.'*

" He offers to marry me, you stupid dove ! "

"Not that Mr. Congreve who dined here last week, and
who is so deaf t "

258

INWELIOE.

"That Mine yeritable Midas. You must know he is not
deaf from age ; oh no ! Scarlet fever when he was teething."
" You do not intend to marry him 1 "
" Why not 1 Do you suppose I have gone crazy, and lost
the power of computing rents and dividends 1 Are people ever
so utterly mad as that? If I were capable of hesitating a
moment, I should deserve a strait-jacket for the remainder of
my darkened days. Why, I am reliably informed that his pro-
perty is unencumbered and worth at least two millions three
hundred thousand dollars ! I think even dear Mamma, who
mother-like overrates my charms, never in her rosiest visions
dreamed I could command such a high price. The slave trade
is looking up once more ; threatens to grow brisk, in spite of
Congressional prohibition."

She sat quite erect, with her hands clasped across the back
of her head ; a crimson spot burning on each cheek, and an
unnatural lustre in her laughing eyes.

** Olga, do you love him 1 "

" Now I am sure you are the identical white pigeon that
Noah let out of the Ark ; for nothing less antediluvian could
ask such obsolete, such utterly dead and buried questions 1 I
love, dearly and sincerely, rich laces, old wines, fine glass, heavy
silver, blooded horspg fast and fiery, large solitaires, rare camei ;
and all these comfortable nice little things, I shall truly honour,
and tenaciously cling to, < until death us do part,' and as Mrs.
Silas Oongreve — hush I Here comes Mamma."

*' Olga why are you not up and dressed 1 You accepted the
invitation to ' Lunch ' with Mrs. St. Clare, and what excuse
can I possibly frame % "

" I have implicit faith in your ingenuity, and give you corto
hloPMlw in the manufacture of an apology 1 "

" And my conscience, Olga 1 " .

" Oh dear ! Has it waked up again 1 I thought you had
chloroformed it, as you did the last spell of toothache, a year
1^0. I hope it is not a severe attack this time % "

She took her mother's hand and kissed it lightly.

" My daughter, are you really sick 1 "

« Very, ^famma; such terrible fits of palpitation."

" I never saw you look better. I shall tell no stories i(x
you, to Mrs. St. Clare."

** Cruel Mamma ! when you know how my tender maidenly
sensibilities are just now lacerated, by the signal success of much

IMFELICM.

259

patient manoeuvring I Tell Mrs. St. Clare, that like the man
m the Bible who could not attend the supper because he had
married a wife, I otnyed at home to ponder my brilliant pros-
pects as Madame Silas "

" Olga I " exclaimed Mrs. Palma, with % warning gesture
toward Regina.

« Do you think I could hide my bliss from her t She knows
the honour proffered me, and has promised to keep the
secret."

" Until the gentleman had received a positive and final ac-
ceptance, I should imagine such confidence premature."

Mrs. Palma spoke sternly, and withdrew her fingers from
her daughter's clasp.

" As if there were even a ghost of a doubt, as to uhe final
acceptance 1 As if I dared play this heavy fish an instant, with
such a frail line 9 Ah Mamma ! don't tease me by RMch tactics !
I am but an insignificant mouse, and you and Mi. Cong* i^ve
are such a grim pair of cats, that I should never venture T.ae
faintest squeak. Don't roll me under your velvet, pawt, and
pat me playfully, trying to arouse false hopes of r^i pe, when
all the while you are resolved to devour me prese Atl^. Don't
I am a wiry mouse, proud and sensitive, and some mice, it
is said, will not permit insult added to injury."

" Regina are you ready ) I shall take you .to Mrs. Bromp-
ton's, and it is quite time to start."

Mrs. Palma looked impatiently at Regina, and as the latter
rose to get her hat and wrappings from her own room, she saw
the mother lean over the pillows, saw also that the white arms
of the girl were quickly thrown up around her neck.

Soon after she heard the front door bell ring, and when she
started down the steps, Olga called fr. ./? her room :

" Come in. Mamma has to answer :^ note before she leaves
home. When you go down, please ask Terry to give a half-
bottle of that white wine with the bionze seal to Octave, and
tell him to make and send up to rue as soon as possible, a wine
chocolate. Mrs. Tarrant's long promised grand affair comes off
to-night, and I must build myself up for the occasion."

" Are you feverish, Olga ? Your cheeks are such a brilliant
scarlet ? "

" Only the fever of delicious excitement, which all young
ladies ^f my sentimental temperament are expected to indulge,
when assured that the perilous voyage of portionless maiden-

260

INFELICS,

hood is blissfully ended in the comfortable harbour of affluent
matrimony. Does that feel like ordinary fever ? "

She put out her large well formed hand, and, clasping it be-
tween her own, Kegina exclaimed :

" How very cold ! You are ill, or worse still, you are un-
happy. Your heart is not in this marriage."

" My heart ? It is only an automatic contrivance for pro-
pelling the blood through my system, and so long as it keeps
me in becoming colour, I have no right to complain. The
theory of heart's entering into connubial contracts, is as effete
as — Stahl's Phlogiston ! One of the wisest and wittiest of liv-
ing authors, recognising the drift of the age, offers to supply a
great public need, by : * A new proposition and suited to the
tendencies of modern civilization, namely, to establish a universal
Matrimonial Agency, as well ordered as the Bourse of Paris,
and the London Stock Exchange. What is more useful and
justifiable than a Bourse for affairs 1 Is not marriage an affair)
Is anything else considered in it but the proper proportions 1
Are not these proportions values capable of rise and fall, of
valuation and tariff? People declaim against marriage brokers.
What else, I pray you, are the good friends, the near relations
who take the field, except obliging, sometimes official brokers V
Now Regina, * M. Graindorge,' who makes this proposal to the
Parisian world, has lived long in America, and doubtless re-
ceived his inspiration in the United States. Hearts? We
modern belles compress our hearts, as the Chinese do their feet,
until they become numb and dwarfed ; and some even roast
theirs before the fires of Moloch until they resemble human
r>Me de fm gras. There are a great many valuable truths
taught us in the ancient myths, and for rugged unvarnished
wisdom commend me to the Scandinavian. Did you ever read
the account of Iduna's captivity in the castle of Thiassi in
Jotunhoim 1 "

" I never did, and what is more, I never will, if it teaches
people to think as harshly of the world as you seem to do."

'* You sweet, simple blue-eyed dunce ! How shamefully
your guardian neglects your education ! Never even heard of
the EUewomen 1 Why, they compose the most brilliant society,
al] over the world. Iduna was a silly creaturo, with a large
warm heart, and loved her husband devotedly ; and in order to
cure her of this arrant absurd folly she was carried away and
shut up with the EUewomen, very fair creatures always smiling

:i'

INFELICE,

261

■'

sweetly. The more bitterly the foolish young wife wept, and
implored their pity, the more pleasantly they smiled at her ;
and when she examined them closely she found that despite
their beauty they were quite hollow, were made with no hearts
at all, and could compassionate no one. I have an abiding faith
that they had Borgia hair, hazel eyes, red lips, and sloping
white shoulders just like mine. They have peopled the world ;
a large colony settled in this country, we are nearly all Ellewo-
men now, and you are an ignorant wretched little Iduna, minus
the apples, and must get rid of your heart at once, in order to
smile constantly, as we do."

" Olga, don't libel yourself and Society so unmercifully.
Don't marry Mr. Oongreve. Think how horrible it must be to
spend all your life with a man whom you do not love ! "

" I assure you, that will form no part either of his programme,
or of mine. I shall have my ' societies' (charitable, of course),
my * Keceptions,' my daily drives, my * Luncheons,' and box at
the opera with an occasional supper at Delmonico's ; — and Mr.
Congreve will have his Yacht affairs, and Wall Street * corners'
to look after, — and will, of course, spend the majority of his
evenings at that fascinating * Century' — which really is the only
thing your quartz-souled Guardian cherishes any affection for."

" But Mr. Palma is not married, and when you are Mr. Con-
greve's wife, of course, instead of going to his club, your hus-
band will expect to remain at home with you."

"That might be possible in the old-fashioned Parsonage
where you imbibed so many queer outlandish doctrines ; but
I do assure you, we have quite outgrown such an intolerable
orthodox system of penance. The less married peoole see of
each other these days, the fewer scalps dangle around the
hearthstone. The customs of the matrimonial world have
changed since that distant time when sacrificing to Juno as the
Goddess of Wedlock, the gall was so carefully extracted from
the victim and thrown behind the altar ; — implying that in
married life all anger and bitterness should be exterminated.
If Tacitus could revisit this much-civilized world of the nine-
teenth century, I wonder if he could find a nation who would
tempt him to repeat, what he once wrote concerning the sanctity
of marriage among the Germans ? ' There vice is iiot laughed
at, and corruption is not called the fashion.' Mr. Silas Con-
greve is much too enlightened to prefer his slippers at home,
to his place at the club. As for sitting up as a rival to the

262

INFELICE.

* Century/ — female vanity never soared to so sublime a height
of folly ! and if Erie Palma were married forty times, his dar-
ling Club would still hold the first place in his flinty affections.
It must be a most marvellously attractive place, — that bewitch-
ing ' Century,' — to magnetize so completely the iron of his
nature. I have my suspicion that one reason why the husbands
cling so fondly to its beloved precincts, is because it corresponds
in some respects to the wonderful ' Peacestead' of the .^ir,
whose strongest law was that ' no angry blow should be struck,
— and no spiteful word spoken within its limits.' Hence it is
a tempting retreat from the cyclones and typhoons that some-
times sing amon^ a man's Lares and Penates. In view of my
own gilded matrimonial future, I reverently salute my ally —
the ' Century ! ' There I Mamma calls you. Go trill like a
canary at the Cantata, and waste no smiles on the smiling Elle-
woman you leave behind you. Tell Octave to hurry my wine-
chocolate."

She drew the girl to her, looked at her with sparkling merry
eyes, and kissed her softly on each cheek.

When Regina reached the door and looked back, she saw that
Olga had thrown herself face downward on the bed, and the
hands were clasped above the tangled mass of ruddy hair.

During the drive, Mrs. Palma was unusually cheerful, almost
loquacious , and her companion attributed the agreeable change
in her generally reticent manner, to maternal pride and pleasure
in the contemplated alliance of her only child.

No reference was made to the subject, and when they reached
Mrs. Brompton's, Regina was not grieved to learn that the re-
hearsal had been postponed until the following day, in conse-
quence of the sickness of Professor Hurtzsel.

" Then Farley must take you home, after I get out at Mrs.
St. Clare's. The carriage can return for me about four o'clock.'*

" That will not be necessary. I wish to go and see Mrs.
Mason, who has been out f town since July, — ^p,nd I can very
easily walk. She has changed her lodgings."

" Have you consulted Erie on the subject 1 "

" No Ma'am, but I do not think he would object." \

" At least it would be best to obtain his permission, for only
last week when you stayed so long at that floral establishment,
he said he shoula forbid your going out alone. Wait till to-

morrow.

INFBLtOM,

263

" To-morrow I shall not have time, and all my studies are
over for to-day. Why should he care 1 He allo^ws me to go to
Mrs. Mason's in the carriage."

" It is entirely you own i^air, but my advice is to consult
him. At this hour he is probably in his office ; drive down
and see him, and if he consents, then go. Here is Mrs. St.
Clare's. Farley, take Miss Orme to Mr. Palma's office, and be
sure you are back here at half-past three. Don't keep me
waiting."

Never before had Eegina gone to the Law-Office, and to-day
she very reluctantly followed the unpalatable advice ; but the
- urgency of Mrs. Palma's manner constrained obedience. When
the carriage stopped, she went in, feeling uncomfortable and
embarrassed, and secretly hoping that her guardian was absent.
At a large desk near the door, sat a young man intently
copying some papers, and as the visitor entered, he rose, and
stared.
" Is Mr. Palma here r

" He will be in a few moments. Take a seat."
Hoping to escape before his return, she said hastily :
" I have not time to wait Can you give me a pencil and
piece of paper ) I wish to leave a note."

There were two desks in the apartment, but glancing at their
dusty appearance, and then at the dainty pearl-tinted gloves of
the stranger, the young man answered hesitatingly :

<' You will find writing materials on the deuE in the next
room. The door is not locked."

She hurried in, sat down before the desk where a number of
papers were loosely scattered, and took up a pen lying near a
handsome bronze inkstand.

How should she commence ) She had never written him a
line, and felt perplexed. While debating whether she should
say : Dear Mr. Palma, or My Dear Guardian, — her eyes wan*
dered half unconsciously about the apartment, until they were
arrested by a large portrait hanging over the mantelpiece. It
was a copy of the picture her mother had directed painted by
Mr. Harcourt, and which had been sent to Europe.

This copy differed in some respects from the original por-
trait ; Hero had been entirely omitted, and in the hands of the
painted girl were clusters of beautiful snowy lilies.
Surprised and gratified that he deemed her portrait worthy

264

IHFELWE.

of a place in his office, she hastily wrote on a sheet of legal
cap : — f

^* Dear Mr. Palma : — Having no engagements until to-mor-
row, I wish to spend the afternoon with Mrs. Mason, who has
removed to No. 900 East — Street, but Mrs. Palma ad-
vised me to ask your permission. Hoping that you will not
object to my making the visit, without having waited to see
you, I am,

•* Very respectfully,

"Your ward,

*' Regina Orme."

Leaving it open on the desk, where he could not fail to see
it, she glanced once more at the portrait, and hurried away,
fearful of being intercepted ere she reached the carriage.

" Drive to No. 900 East Street."

The carriage had not turned the neighbouring corner, when
Mr. Palma leisurely approached his office door, with his
thoughts intent upm an important will case, which was creat-
ing much interest and discussion among the members of the
. Bar, and which, in an appeal form, he had that day consented
to argue before the Supreme Court. Ka he entered the front
room, the clerk looked up.

" Stuart, has Elliott brought back the papers ? "

" Not yet, Sir. There was a young lady here, a moment ago.
Did you meet her 1 "

" No. What was her business % "

*' She did not say. Asked for you, and would not wait."

" What name ? "

"Did not give any. Think she left a note on your desk.
She was the loveliest creature I ever looked at."

" My desk ? Hereafter in my absence allow no one to enter
my private office. I did not consider it necessary to caution
you, or inform you that my desk is not public property, but
designed for my exclusive service. In future when [ am out,
keep that door locked. Step around to Fitzgerald's and get
that volume of Reports he borrowed last week."

The young man coloured, picked up his hat and disappeared ;
and the lawyer walked into his sanctum and approached his
desk.

Seating himself in the large revolving chair, his eyes fell in-

INFSLICg,

265

fitantlj upon the long sheet, with the few lines traced m a deli-
cate feminine hand.

Over his eold face, swept a marvellous change, strangely
softening its outlines and expression. He examined the writing
curiously, taking off his glasses and holding the paper close to
his eyes ; and he detected the alteration in the " Dear," which
had evidently been commenced as " My."

Laying it open before him, he took the pen, wrote " my,"
before the "dear," and drawing a line through the "Regina
Orme," substituted abovt it, " Lily."

In her haste she had left on the desk one glove, and her
small ivory porte-monnaief which her mother had sent from
Rome.

He took up the little pearl gray-kid, redolent of Lubin's
'' violet," and spread out the almost childishly small fingers, on
his own broad palm which suddenly closed over it like a vice ;
then with a half smile of strange tenderness, in which all the
stony sternness of lips and chin seemed steeped and melted,
he drew the glove softly, carressingly over his bronzed cheek.

Pressing the spring of the purse, it opened and showed him
two small gold dollars, and a five dollar bill. In another com-
partment, wrapped in tissue paper was a small bunch of pressed
violets, tied yrith a bit of blue sewing silk. Upon the inside of
the paper was written :

"Gathered at Agra. AprilSth, 18— "

He knew Mr. Lindsay's handwriting, and his teeth closed
firmly as he refolded the paper, and put the purse and glov« in
the inside breast pocket of his coat. Placing the note in an
envelope, he addressed it to " Erie Palma," and locked it up
in a private drawer.

Raising his brilliant eyes to the lovely girlish face on the
wall, he said slowly, sternly :

" My Lily, — and she shall be brolcen, and withered, — and
laid to rest in Greenwood, — before any other man's hand
touches hers. My Lily, — housed sacredly in my boscm, —
blooming only in my heart."

^ WC.

266

ISFELIOB,

CHAPTEE XX.

;ISMISSING the carriage at the comer of the square,
near which she expected to find Mrs. Mason located
in more comfortable lodgings, Regina walked on until
she found the building, of which she was in quest, and ,
rang the bell. It was situated in a row of plain, unpre-
tending but neat tenement houses, kept thoroughly repaired ;
and the general appearance of the neighbourhood indicated
that the tenants, though doubtless poor, were probably genteel,
and had formerly been in more affluent circumstances.

The door was opened by a girl apparently half-grown, who
stated that Mrs. Mason had rented the basement rooms, and
that her visitors were admitted through the lower entrance, as
a different set of lodgers had the next floor. She offered to
show Begina the way, and knocking at the basement door, the
girl suddenly remembered that she had seen Mrs. Mason visit-
ing at the house directly opposite.

" Wait, Miss, and I will run across and call her."

"While standing at the lower door, and partly screened by
the flight of steps leading to the rooms above, Kegina saw a
figure advancing rapidly along the sidewalk, — a tall figure,
whose graceful carriage was unmistakable ; and as the person
ran up the steps of the next house in the row, and impatiently
pulled the bell, Eegina stepped forward and looked up.

A gust of wind just then blew aside the thick brown veil
that concealed the couiitenance, and showed, for an instant
only, the strongly marked yet handsome profile of Olga
Neville.

The door opened ; her low inaudible question was answered
in the affirmative, and Olga was entering, when the skirt of her
dress was held by a projecting nail, and in disengaging it she
caught a glimpse of the astonished countenance beneath the
steps. She paused, leaned over the balustrade, threw up both
hands with a warning gesture, then laid her finger on her lips
and hurried in, closing the door behind her.

" The lady says Mrs. Mason was there, but left her about a

quarter of an hour ago.
comes home % "

What name shall I give, when she

f\^

'•%^'

INFELIOB,

267

Ired
Iher
Ishe

the
loth

ips

It a
Ishe

'■

" Tell her Begina Onne called, and was very sorry she
missed seeing her. Say I will try to come again on Sunday
afternoon if the weather is good. Who lives iu the next
house 1 "

" A family named Eggleston. I hear they sculp and paint
for a living. Good-day, Miss. I won't forget to tell the old
lady you called."

Walking leisurely homeward, Regina felt sorely perplexed
in trying to reconcile Olga's plea of indisposition and her lin-
gering in bed, with this sudden appearance in that distant
quarter of the city, and her evident desire to conceal her face,
and to s<3cure silence with regard t> the casual meeting. Was
Mrs. Palma acquainted with her daughter's movements, or was
the girl's n. ♦ f ous excitement of the morning indirectly connect-
ed with some mystery, of which the mother did not even
dream 1 That some adroitly-hidden sorrow was the secret
spring of Olga's bitterness toward Mr. Palma, and the unfail-
ing source of her unjust and cynical railings against that soci-
ety into which she plunged with such inconsistent recklessness,
Begina had long suspected \ and her conjecture was strength-
ened by the stony imperturbability with which her guardian
received the sarcasms often aimed at him. Whatever the solu-
tion, delicacy forbade all attempts to litt the veil of conceal-
ment, and resolving to banish unfavourable suspicion concern-
ing a woman to whom she had become sincerely attached,
Begina directed her steps toward one of the numerous small
pa^s that beautify the great city, and furnish breathing and
gambolling space for the helpless young innocents who are de-
barred all other modes of " airing," save such as are provided
by the noble munificence of New York. The day, though
cold, was very bright, the sky a cloudless gray-blue, — the
slanting beams of the sun filling -the atmosphere with gold-
dust ; and in crossing the square to gain the street beyond,
Begina was attracted by a group of children romping along the
walk and laughing gleefully.

One, a toddling wee thing, with a scarlet cloak that swept
the ground, and a hood of the same warm tint drawn over her
curly yellow hair and dimpled round face, had fallen on the
walk unheeded by her boisterous companions, and, becoming
entangled in the long garment, could not get up again. Paus-
ing to lift the little creauire to her feet, and restore the piece
of cake that had escaped from the cluibby hand, Begina stood

, :

268

ISFEUCS,

smiling sympathetically at the sport of the larger children, and
wondering whether all those rosy-cheeked " olive branches "
clustered around one household altar.

At that moment a heavy hand was placed on her shoulder,
add turning she saw at her side a powerful man, thickset in
stature, and whose clothing was worn and soiled. Beneath a
battered hat drawn suspiciously low, she discerned a swarthy,
flushed, saturnine countenance, which had perhaps once been
attractive, before the seal of intemperance marred and stained
its lineaments. Somewhere she certainly had seen that dark
face, and a sensation of vague terror seised her.

" Regina, it is about time you should meet and recognise ^.'*

The voice explained all ; she knew the man whom Hannah
had met in the churchyard, on the evening of the storm.

She made an effort to shake off his hand, but it closed firmly
upon her, and he asked :

** Do you know who I am 1 '

''Your name is Peleg, — and yon are a wicked man, — an
enemy of my mother."

** The same, I do not deny it. But recollect I am also your
father."

She stared almost wildly at him, and her face blanched and
quivered as she uttered a cry of horror.

"It is false I You are not — you never could have been !
You — Oh ! never — never ! "

So terrible was the thought that she staggered, and sank
down on an iron seat, covering her face with her hands.

" This comes of separating father and child, and raising you
above your proper place in the world. Your mother taught
you to hate me, I knew she would ; but I have waited as long
as I can bear it, and I intend to assert my rights. Who do
you suppose is your father? Whose child did she say you
were 1 "

" She never told me, — but I know, — Oh God have mercy
upon me ! You cannot be my father i It would kill me to
believe it ! "

She shuddered violently, and when he attempted to put his
hand on hers, she drew back and cried out almost fiercely':

" Don't touch me ! If you dare, I will scream for a police-

man.

»>

" Very well, as soon as you please, and when he comes I will
explain to him that you are my daughter ;— and if necessary I

INFELICS.

269

will carry you both to the spot where you were born, and
prove the fact. Do you know where you were born 1 I guess
Minnie did not see fit to tell you that, either. Well — it was in

that charity hospital on Street, and I can tell you the

year and the day of the month. My child, you might at least
pity, — and not insult your poor unhappy father."

Oould it be possible after all 1 Her head swam — her heart
seemed bursting ; — her very soul sickened, as she tried to
realize all that his assertion implied. What could he expect to
accomplish by such a claim, unless he iutended, and felt fully
prepared, to establish it by irrefragable facts 1

" My girl, your mother deserted me before you were born,
and has never dared to let you know the truth. Hhe is living
in disguise in Europe, — under an assumed name, and only last
week I found out her whereabouts. She calls herself Mrs.
Orme now, and has turned actress. She was born one, she
has played a false part all her life. Do you think your name is
Orme ) My dear child it is untrue, — and I, — Peleg Petersou
am your father."

** No— no ! my mother, my beautiful — refined mother uever
— never could have loved you ! Oh 1 it is too horrible t Go
away, — ^please go away ! or I shall go mad."

She bound her hands tightly across her eyes, shutting out
the loathsome face, and in the intensity of her agony and dread,
she groaned aloud. If it were true, could she bear it and live ?
What would Mr. Lindsay think, if he could see that coarse
brutiil man claiming her as his daughter ) What would her
haughty guardian say, if he who so sedulously watched over
her movements, and fastidiously chose her associates, — could
?ook upon her now ?

Born in a hospital, — owning that repulsive countenance there
btiside her, — as parent %

Heavy cold drops oozed out, and glistened on her brow, and
she shivered from head to foot, rocking herself to and fro.

Almost desperate as she thought of the mysterious circum
stances that seemed to entangle her mother as in some inextri-
cable net, — the girl suddenly started up, and exclaimed :

" It is a fraud, a wicked fraud, — or you would never have
left me so long in peace. My father was, — ^must have been —
a gentleman, — I know, — I feel it ! You are — you — Save me oh
Lord in heaven, — from such a curse as that ! "

He grasped her arm and hissed :

** I am poor and obscure, it is true, but Peterson is better

270

IITFELICE.

than no name at all, — and if you are not my child, — then you
have DO name. That is all ; — take your choice."

What a pall settled on earth and sky 1 The sun shining so
briehtly in the west, grew black, — and a shadow colder and
da»er than death, seized her soul. Was it the least of alter-
nate horrors to accept this man, acknowledging his paternal
claim, and thereby defend her mother's name 1 How the lovely
sad face of that young mother rose like a star, Riding all this
fearful blackness ; and her holy abiding faith m her mother
proved a strengthening Angel in this Gethsemane.

Rallying she forced herself to look steadily at her companion.

" You say that your name is Peleg Peterson ; — why did you
never come openly to th") Parsonage and claim me ? I know
that my mother was married in that house, by Mr. Hargrove."

" Because I never could find out where you were hid away,
until my Aunt Hannah Hinton told me the week before the
great storm. Then she promised me the marriage license,
which she had found in a desk at the Parsonage, on condition
that I would not disturb you ; — as she thought you were happy
and well cared f'>r, and would be highly educated, — and I was
too miserably pour to give you any advantages. You know
the license was burned by lightning, else I would show it to
you.'* /

*' Proving that you are my mother's legal husband 9 "

" Certainly, — else what use do you suppose I had for it."

" Oh no ! You intended to sell it. Hannah told me so."

" No such thing. Minnie does not want to own me now,
and I intended to show the license to the father of the man for
whom she deserted you and me. She has followed him to
Europe, though she knows he is a married man."

" It is false ! How dare you ! You shall not slander her
dear name. My mother could never have done that ! There
is some foul conspiracy to injure her; — not another word
against her ! No matter what may have happened, — no matter
how dark and strange things look, — she was not to blame.
She is right, — always right ; — I know, I feel it t I tell you if
the sun and the stars, — and the vgpy Arch-angels in heaven
accused her, — I would not listen, — I would not believe— no
— never ! She is my mother, do you hear me 1 She is my
mot'ier and God's own angels would go a8tray,as soon as she ! "

She looked as white and rigid as a corpse twelve hours dead,
— ^and her large defiant eyes burned with a supernatural lustre.

"i^m^

»-.

INFELIOE,

271

He comprehended the nature with which he had to deal, and
after a pause, said suddenly :

" Minnie does not deserve such a child, and it is hard that
you, my own flesh and blood, refuse to recognise me. Regina,
I am desperately poor, or I would take you now, forcibly if
necessary, — and if Minnie dared deny my claim, I would pub-
lish the facts in a court of justice. Even your guardian is
deceived, — and many things would come to light, utterly dis-
graceful to you, — and to your father and mother. But at pre-
sent I cannot take care of you, — and am m need, actual need,
Will my child see her own father want bread and cloth-
ing, and refuse to assist him ) Can you not contribute
something towards my support, until I can collect some money
due me 1 If you can help me a little now, I will try to be
patient, and leave you where you are, in luxury and peace, —
at least till I can hear from Minnie, to whom I have written."

" Why do you not go at once to my guardian, and demand
met"

" If you wish it I will, before sunset. Come, I am ready.
But when I do, the facts will be blazoned to the world, and
you and Minnie and I, — shall all go down together in disgrace
and ruin. If you are willing to drag all the shameful history
into the papers, I am ready now."

He rose, but she shrank away, and putting her hand in her
pocket became aware of the loss of her purse. Had she been
robbed, or had she dropped her porte-monnme in the carriage )

" I have not a cent with me. I have lost my purse since I
left home."

She saw the gloomy scowl that lowered on his brow.

" When can you give me some money ) Mind, it must not
be known that I am literally btgging. I am as proud — my
daughter — as you are, and if people find out that 1 am getting
alms from you, I shall explain that it is from my own child I
receive aid."

A feeble gleam of hope stole across her soul, and rapidly she
reflected on the best method of escape.

" I have very little money, but to-morrow I will send you
through the Post Office, e¥l^ cent I possess. How shall I
address itl"

He shook his head.

" That would not satisfy me, I want to see you again, — to
look at your sweet face. Do you think I do not love my
child ? Meet me here, this time to-morrow."

272

INFMUOE.

9fi

Eaob word imoto like pelting hailBtones, and he mw all Sk^i
loathing printed on her face.

" I have an engagement that may detain me beyond this
hour ; but, if I live, I will be as punctual as circumstances
permit."

" If you tell Palma you have seen me, he must know every-
thing, for Minnie has hired him to help her deceive you and
the world, — and all the while she has kept the truth from him.
Shrewd as he is, she has completely duped him. If he learns
you have been with me, I shall unmask everything ; and when
he washes his hands of vou and your mother, I will take you
where you shall never lay your eyes again on the two, who
have taught you to hate me, — Minnie and Palma. My child
do you understand me ? "

She shuddered as he leaned toward her, and stepping back,
she answered resolutely :

" That threat will prove very effectual. I will meet you here,
bringing the little money I have, and will keep this awful day a
secret from all but God, who never fails to protect the right

" You promise that 9 "

" What else is left me 1 My guardian shall know nothing from
me, until I can hear from my mother, — to whom I shall write
this night. Do not detain me. My absence will excite sus-
picion.

" Good-by my daughter.''

He held out his hand.

She looked at him, and her lips writhed as she tried to con-
template for an instant, the bare possibility that, after all, he
might be her parent. She forced herself to hold out her left
hand which was gloved, but he had scarcely grasped her
finders, when she snatched them back, turned and darted away,
while he called after her :

'♦ This time to-morrow. Don't fail.

The glory of the world, and the light of her young life had
suddenly been extinguished, and fearful spectres vague and
manacing thronged the future. Death appeared a mere trifle
in comparison with the life-long humiliation — ^perhaps disgrace
— ^that was in store for her ; and bitterly she demanded of
fate, why she had been reared so tenderly, so delicately — ^in an
atmosphere of honour and refinement, if destined to fall at last
into the hands of that coarse vicious man ? The audacity of
bis claim almost overwhelmed her faint hope, that some infam-

-I*"

wririli [111, I) I

JNFELIOE.

273

ous imposture was being practised at her expense ; — and the
severity of the shock, the intenbity of her mental suffering,
rendered her utterly oblivious of anything else.

At another time, she would doubtless have heard and recog-
nised a familiar step that followed her from the moment she
Quitted the square ; but to-day, almost stupified, she hurried
long the pavement, mechanically turning the corners, looking
neither to right nor left.

Fifth Avenue was a long way off, and it was late in the after-
noon when she reached home, and ran up to her own room,
anxious to escape observation.

Hattie was arranging some towels on the wash-stand, and
turning around, exclaimed :

" Good gracious. Miss ! You are as white as the coverlid on
the bed 1 I guoss semething has happened ) "

" I am not well. I am tired — so tired. Have they all come
homel"

" Yes, and there will be company for dinner. Two gentle-
men, Terry said. Are you going to wear that dress % "

" I don't want any dinner. If they ask for me, tell Mrs.
Palma I feel very badly, and that I beg she will excuse me.
Where is Olgal"

" Busy trimming her overskirt with flowers. You know Mrs.
Tarrant gives her ball to-night, and Miss Olga says she has
saved herself — rested all day — to be fresh for it. Lou-Lou has
just come to dress her hair. What a pity you can't go too —
you look quite old enough. Miss Olga has such a gay, splen-
did time."

'^ I do not want to go. I only wish I could lie down and
sleep for ever. Shut the door, and ask them all please to let
me alone this evening."

How the richness of the furniture, and the elegance that
prevailed throughout this house, mocked the thread-bare
raiment and poverty-stricken aspect of the man who threatened
to drag her down to his own lower plane of life and association!
Her innate pride, and her cultivated fondness for all beautiful
objects, rebelled at the picture which her imagination painted
in such sombre hues, and with a bitter cry of shame and
dread, she bowed her head against the marble mantelpiece.

For many years she had known that some unfortunate cloud
hung over her own and her mother's history, but faith in the
latter, and a perfect trust in the wisdom and goodness of Mf «

274

n^FBLIOB.

Hai'grove, had encouraged her in every preyions hour of dis-
quiet and apprehension. Until to-day. the positive and hideous
ghoul of disgrace had never actually confronted her, and with
the intuitive hopefulness of youth, the had waved aside ail fore-
bodings, believing that, at the proper time, her mother would
satisfactorily explain the necessity for the mystery of her
.onduct

Was Mr. Lindsay acquainted with some terrible trouble that
had threatened her future, when, in bidding her farewell, he hrd
said he would gladly shield her — were it possible — ^from trials,
that bo foresaw would be her portion 9

Did he know all, and would he love her less, if that bold, bad
man should prove his paternal claim to her 1 Her father * As
she tried to face the possibility, it was with difficulty that she
smothered a passionate cry, and throwing herself across the
foot of the bed, buried her f&ce in her hands.

If she could only run away and go to India, where Mr.
Lindsay would shield, pity, and love her. How gratefully she
tiiought of him at this juncture — how noble, tender, and gener-
ous he had always been ; what a haven of safety and rest his
presence would be now !

As a very dear brother she had ever regarded him, for her
affection, though intense and profound, was as entirely free from
all taint of sentimentality, as that which she entertained for his
mother ; and her pure young heart had never indulged a feel-
ing that could have coloured her cheek with confusion, had the
world searched its recesses.

Were Douglass accessible, she would unhesitatingly have
sprung into his protecting arms, as any suffering young sister
might have done, and, fully unburdening her soul, would have
seught brotherly counsel ; but in his absence, to whom was it
possible for her to turn t

To her guardian 1 As she thought of his fastidious over-
weening pride — his haughty scorn of everything plebeian — his
detestation of all that appertained to the ranks of the ill-bred —
a keen pang of almost intolerable shame darted through her
heart, and a burning tide surged over Iier cheeks, painting them
fiery scarlet. Would he accord her the shelter of his roof, were
he aware of all that had occurred that day %

She started up, prompted by a sudden impulse to seek him
and divulge everything ; to ask how much was true, to demand
that he would send her at once to her mother.

'■^

h
j-
■d

t
d

e
e

'.
e

INFBLICE,

275

'^^

Perhapn he could anthoritatiyely deny that man's statements,
and certainly he was far too prudent to assume guardianship of
a girl, whose real parentage was unknown to him.

Implicit confidence in his wisdom and friendship, and earn-
est gratitude for the grave kindness of his conduct toward her
since she became an inmate of his house, had gradually dis-

E laced the fear and aversion that formerly influenced her against
im ; and just now the only comfort she could extract from any
quarter, arose from the reflection that in every emergency Mr.
Palma would protect her from harm and insult, until he could
place her under her mother's care.

Two years of daily association had taught her to appreciate
the sternness and tenacity of his purpose ; and his stubborn
iron will, so often dreaded before, now became a source of con-
solation, a tower of refuge to which in extremity she could
retreat.

But if she were indeed the low-bom girl, that man had dared
to assert, — and Mr. Palma should learn that he had been de-
ceived, — ^how could she ever meet his coldly contemptuous
eyesi

Some one tapped at the door, but she made no response,
hoping that she might be considered asleep. Mrs. Palma came
in, groping her way.

" W hy have you not a light t "

" I did not need one. I only wanted to be quiet."

" Where are the matches T'

" On the mantelpiece."

Mrs. Palma lighted the gas, then came to the bed.

** Regina, are you ill, — that you obstinately absent yourself,
when you know there is company to dinner 1 "

" I feel very badly indeed, and I hoped you would excuse
me.

" Have you fever 1 You seemed very well when 1 parted
from you, at Mrs. St. Clare's door."

" No fever I think, but I felt unable to go down stairs. I
shall be better to-morrow."

'* Erie desired me to say that he wishes to see you this even-
ing, and you must come down to the library about nine
o'clock. He has gone to his office, and you know he will be
dispL sed if you fail to obey him."

" Please Mrs. Palma, — tell him I am not able. Ask him to
excuse me this evening. Intercede for me, will you not ? "

276

IHFELIOE.

*' Oh ! I never interfere when Erie gives an order. Beside,
I shall not see him again before midnight. I am goins with
Oiga to Mrs. Tarrant's, and must leave home quite early, be-
cause I promised to call for Mellissa Gardner and chaperone,
her. Of course she will not be ready, young ladies never are
— and we shall have to wait. It is only eight o'clock now, —
and an hour's sleep will refresh you. I will direct Hattie to
call you, when your guardian comes in. Do you require any
medicine 1 You do look very badly."

" Only rest, I think. Can't you persuade Mr. Falma to go
to the party, or ball, or whatever it may be 1 "

'' He has promised to drop in, towards the close of the even-
ing and escort u? home. Quite a compliment to Mrs. Tar-
rant, for Erie rarely deigns to honour such entertainments ;
but her husband is a prominent lawyer, and a college friend of
Erie's. Good-night."

She went out, closing the door softly, and Regina felt more
desolate than ever. Was Mr. Palma displeased, because she
had gone visiting without waiting for his consent ? If she had
been more patient, might not this fearful discovery have been
averted 1 Was her sorrow part of the wages of her disobe-
dient haste ?

What had become of her purse 1 How could she without
exciting suspicion, obtain the money she had so positively
promised 1

She rang the bell, and sent Hattie to request Farley to ex-
amine the carriage, and see if she had not dropped her p>/ *#•
monnaie into some of its crevices. It was a long time b lOie
the servant returned, alleging in excuse that she had bee \ de-
tained to as.sliit in dressing Miss Oli^a. Farley had searched
everywhere, and could not find the purse.

Hattie hurried away to Mrs. Palma, and Regina unlocked a
small drawer of her bureau, and took out what remained of
her serai-annual allowance of pocket money. She counted it
carefully, but found only thirteen do! ars. ^,

If she could have recovered her poit-'-monnaie she would hnve
had twenty dollars to oflFer, and even that seemed mockinf^ly
insuflSicient, — as the price of silence, of temporary escape from
humiliation.

What could she do » She had never asked a cent from her
guardian, and the necessity of appealing to iMm, was inexpres
siblv mortifying ; but to whom cjuld she apply ?

INfBLICE.

277

»
n

" * But Solomon ir all his glory was not arrayed like one of
these' — society tiger lilies."

The door was swung open, and as she spoke Olga seemed to
swim into the room, so quick yet noiseless was her entrance.

At the sound of her voice, Eegina dropped the money back
into the drawer, and turned to inspect the elegant toilette,
which consisted of gold-coloured silk and Mechlin lace, — rich
yellow roses with sulphurous hearts, — and a very complete set
of topaz, which flashed amber rays over the neck, ears and arm }
of the wearer. With her brilliant complexion, sparkliag eyes,
and hair elaboratel}*^ powdered with gold dust; she seemed a
vision of light, at whom Regina gazed with unfeigned admiva-
tion.

" Beautiful, Olga ;— beautiful."

" The textile fabrics, — the silk and lace 1 Or the human
framework, the flesh and blood machine that serves as lay figure
to show off the statuesque folds, — the creamy waves of costly
Mechlin, — the Persian roses, — and expensive pebbles % "

" Both. The dress and the wearer. I never saw you look
80 well."

" Thanks. Behold the result of the morning's self denial, —
of a day passed quietly in bed, — with only the companionship
of pillows and dreams. I was forced to choose between Mrs.
St. Clare's ' Lunch,' and Mrs. Tarrant's * Crush,' — * not that I
love Ccesar less, but that I love Rome more ; ' — and the success
ol my strategy is brilliant. Am. I not the complete impersoni-
fication of Sunshine ? How deadly while and chill you Ic k !
Come closer and warm yourself in my g'i oi'.ous rays. Do you
scout oneiromancy as a heathenish fable 'i To- iay I unexpec-
tedly became a convert to its sublira3 reorjts. After you and
Mamma deserted me for Cantata ana Luncheon, I fell into a
heavy sleep, and dreamed that I wp/ Daiiae, witu iv mist of gold
drizzling over me ; — and lo ! when 1 began to dress this even-
ing, my dazzled eyes beheld these superb topaz gems. * Com-
pliments ot Mr. Erie Palraa, who thought they would harmonize
with the gold-coloured silk, and ordered them for the occasion.*
So said the card lying on the velvet case ! Do you wonder if
the world is coming to its long-predicted end ? Not at all ; —
merely the close of Olga Neville's career ; — the sun of my
maidenhood setting in unexpected splendour. Do you under-
stand that scriptural paradox : — • To him that !?uth, shall be
given, but from him that hath not, shall be taken,' etc., etc. T

278

ISEELICE.

Once when I was better than 1 am now, and studied my Bible,
it puzzled me ; now I knew that stiff-necked Olga Neville finds
no favour in Mr. Palma's eyes ; bu\) the obedient, and amiable,
prospective Mrs. Silas Congreve shall be furnished with gew-
gaws, which very soon she will possess in abundance, — and to
spare. Just now. Mamma gave me the delightful intelligence,
that having been informed of my intention to trade myself off
for stocks and brown-stone-fronts, her very distinguished and
magnanimous stepson signified his approbation by announcing
his determination to settle ten thousand dollars on this Lncretia
fiorgia head, upon the day when it wears a bridal veil."

All this \ras uttered volubly, as if she feared interruption ;
and she stood surveying her brilliant image in the mirror, —
shaking out the silk skirt, looping the lace, arranging the rose
leaves, and turning, so as to catch her profile reflection.

Eegina readily perceived that she adopted this method of

ignoring the casual meeting in East Street, and resolved

to tacitly accept the cue ; but before she could frame a reply.
Olga hurried on :

" Were you really sick and unable to dine, or are you prac-
tising the first steps — the initial measure of that policy sys-
tem so cordially commended to your favourable regard % You
missed an unusually good dinner. Octave seems to have days
of culinary inspiration, and this has been one. The iurhot d,
la crSme was fit for Lucullus, the noyeau-flavoured gmiffres
as crisp as criticism, as light as one of Taglioni's mo. gments,
the marbled glac4s simply perfect. But when your chair re-
mained vacant, your guardian darkened like a thunder-cloud in
an August sky, and Roscoe — poor Elliott Roscoe— looked
precisely as I imagine a hungry wolf feels, when, crouching
to catch a tender ewe lamb, he finds that the watchful shepherd
has safely locked it in the fold. Evidently he believes that
you and Erie Falma have conspired to starve him out, and
really he is ludicrously irate. Don't trifle with his expanding
aflections j they are not quite fledged yet, and are easily
bruised. Deal with him kindly ; he is better than his cousin,
better than any of us. What have you done to render him so
unmanageable ? "

** I have not seen Mr. Roscoe for a week."

" Certainly he has seen you in much less time — he imagines
as recently as this afternoon ; but appearances are desperately
deceitful, and our fancy often niaimfactures likenesses. In

INFELICE,

279

this world of fleeting shadows, we are often called upon to re-
ject the evidence of all five of the senses, and what madness,
what culpable folly, to trust that of mere treacherous sight 1
Shall I tell Elliott that he was dreaming, and did not see
youl"

" I have no message for him. That he may have seen me
some time to-day, walking upon the street is quite possible,
but certainly of no consequence. Your bracelet has become
unfastened."

She bent down to clasp the topaz crescent, and Olga laid her
hand on the girl's shoulder.

" Something pains you very much, and your face has not yet
learned the great feminine art of masking misery in smiles, and
burying it in dimples. Mind, dear. I do not ask, I do not
wish to know what your hidden fox is, preying so ravenously
upon your vitak. Sooner or later, the punishment of the
Spartan thief overtakes us all, and after a while you will learn
to bear the gnawing as gaily as I do. I don't want to know
your secret wound, I should only lacerate it with my callous
policy handling, only torm«it you by pouring into its gaping
mouth the vitriol of my fashionable worldly philosophy, which
consumes what it touches. How I wish stupid society would
stand aside, and let me do you a genuine kindness — open your
blue veins, and let out gently, slow.y, all the pangs and throbs.
Dear, it would be a blessing, like that man in the East, who
stabbed his devoted wife, at her request, because he loved her,
and wished to put her at rest; *>at something very blind indeed,
and which under the cloak of I.<iw mocks and outrages justice,
wouJii; blindly hang me ! Thiti is the age of Law; even miracles
are (severely forbidden, and if the herd of Gadarene swine had
miraculously perished in this generation and country, our Lord
and His disciples would have inevitably been sued for damages.
Don't you know that Erie Palma would have been engaged for
the prosecution 1 Yes, Mamma ! quite ready, and coming.
Gro to sleep, snow-drop, and dream that you are like me, a topaz-
bedizened odalisque Rwi turning in sunshine."

She stooped, kissed the girl softly on both cheeks, and looked
tenderly, pityingly at her ; then suddenly gathered her close to
her heart, holding her there an instant, as if to shelter her
from some impending storm.

" If you love your mother, and she lores you, run away now
and join her, before the chains are tightened. Your guardian

280

lUFBLlOa.

is setting mares. Little white rabbit, flee for your life, wbile
escape in possible."

She floated away like some dazzling gilded cloud, and a mo-
ment later, her peculiarly light merry laugh rang through the
hall below, as she ran down to join her mother.

CHAPTER XXI.

N/'

TABLE to throw off the load of painful apprehension
that weighed so heavily on her heart, Reginp. derived
<!ome consolation from the reflection that she was en-
irely alone in the house, and could at least escape
scrutiny and curious criticism ; for she hoped that
M V alm.t, forgetting her, would go directly from his ofl&ce to
Mrs. Tr;i - nt's — allowing her a reprieve ui^til morning. During
the secv ':.» /ear of her residence beneath his roof, she had at
his requesii taken her breakfast with him, — sitting at the head
of the table, where Mrs. Palma presided at all other times.
Olga and her mother generally Blept quite late, and consequently
Regina now looked forward with dread to the teti-it-teti await-
ing her next morning.

A few days subsequent to the Sunday afternoon on which
her guardian had so unexpectedly accompanied her to church,
she had been pleasantly surprised by finding in the library a
handsome Mason & Hamlin parlour organ ; on which lay a slip
of paper, expressing Mr. Psdma's desire that she would con-
sider it exclusively hers, — and sometimes play upon it for him.
But an unconquerable timidity and repugnance to using the in-
strument when he was at home, had prevented a compliance
with the request, which was ne> : " re^ "ited.

To-night the thought of the oi^-un brought dear and comfort-
ing memories, and feeling quite ;i^t^cure from inclusion she went
down to the library. As usual iAie room was bright and com-
fortable as gas and anthracite could make it, and failing to ob-
serve a sudden movement of the curtains hanging over the
recess behind the writing-desk, Regina entered, closed the door
and walked up to the glowing grate.

Beneath her mother's portrait, sat the customary floral offer-

INFELIGB.

281

ing, which on this occasion consisted of double white and blue
violets, — and standing awhile on the hearth, the girl gazed up
at the picture with mournful longing tenderness. Could that
proud lovely face ever have owned as husband, the coarser,
meaner, and degraded clay, who that afternoon had dared with
sacrilegious presumption to speak of her as " Minnie " )

What was the mystery, — and upon whom must rest the
blame, — possibly the life-long shame ?

" Not you, dear sad-eyed mother. Let the whole world
condemn, deride, — and despise Us, — but only your own lips shall
teach pe to doubt you. Everything else may crumble beneath
me, — all may drift away ; but faith and trust in mother shall
stand fast — aa Jacob's ladder, linking me with the angels who
will surely come down its golden rounds and comfort me.
Oh, mother ; the time has come when you and I must clasp
hands and fight the battle together; — and God will be merci-
ful to the right."

Standing there in her blue cashmere dress, relieved by dainty
collar and cuflFs of lace, she seen d indeed no longer a young
almost childish girl, — but one who had passed the threshold
and entered the mysterious realm of early womanhood.

Eather below than above medium height, her figure was ex-
quisitely moulded, and the beautiful head was poised on the
shoulders with that indescribable proud grace, one sometimes
sees in perfect marble sculpture. But the delicate woful
OEnone face, as white and gleaming under its shining coil of
ebon hair, as a statue carved from the heart of Lygdos, — how
shall mere words ever portray its peculiar loveliness, its faultless
purity ] Unconsciously she had paused in the exact position
selected for that beautiful figure of " Faith " a^ Mch Palmer has
given to tho world ; and standing with drooping c. :\sped hands,
and uplifted eyes gazing upon her mother's per -rait, as the
" Faith " looks to the lonely cioss above her, — the r "^semblance
in form and features was so striking, that all who have studied
that exquisite marble, can readily recall the countenance of tW
girl in the library.

Turning away, she opened the organ, drew out the stops, and
began to play.

As the soft yet sacredly solemn strains rolled through the
long room, hallowed associations of the old Parsonage life
floated up, clustering like familiar faces around her. Once
more she heard the cooing of ring-doves in the honeysuckle,

282

INFBLIOE.

and the loved voices — now silent in death — or far, far away
amoug the palms of India.
"Cast thy burden on the Lord/' had been one of their

favourite selections at V , and now hoping for comfort,

she sang it.

It was the first time she had attempted it since the evening
before the storm, when Mr. Lindsay had sung it with her, while
Mr. Hargrove softly hummed the base, as he walked up and
down the verandah, with his arm ou his sister's shoulder.

How many holy memories rushed like a flood over her heart
and soul, burying for a time the bitter experience of to-dlty !

Unable to conclude the song, she leaned back in her chair,
and gave way to the tears that rolled swiftly down her cheeks.

So wan and hopeless was her face, that Mr. Palma, watching
her from the curtained alcove, came quickly forward.

He was elegantly dressed in full evening toilette, and throw-
ing his white gloves on the table, approached his ward.

At sight of him she started up, and hastily wiped away the
tears that obstinately dripped, despite her efforts.

" Oh, Sir ! I hoped you would forget to come home, and
would go to Mrs. Tarrant's. I did not know that you were in
the house."

" I never forget my duties, and though I am going to Mrs.
Tarrant's after a while, I attend to 'business before pleasure ; '
— ^it has been my life-long habit."

His new suit of black, and the white vest and cravat were
singularly becoming to him. He was aware of the fact ; and
even in the midst of her anxiety and depression, Regina thought
she had never seen him look so handsome.

" I wish to ask you a few questions. Was it actual bodily
sickness, physical pain — that kept you in your room during
dinner, at which I particularly desired your attendance % "

" I cannot say that it was."

" You had no fever, no headache, no fainting-spell ? "

"No, Sir."

" Then why did you absent yourself 1 "

'*' I felt unhappy, and shrank from seeing any one ; especilTf
strange guests."

'• Unhappy 1 About what 1"

" My heart ached, and I wished to be alone."

" Heart-ache— so early 1 However — you are in your sevwi-

(bt

INFBLIOE.

283

teenth year, quite old enough, I suppose, for the prcmonitoiy
•ymptomi. What gave you heart-ache 9 "

She was silent. *

" You feared my displeasure, knowing I had cause to feel

offended, when making a pretence of deferring to my wishes,

you hurried away from my ofBice, just as I was returning to it 9

Why did you not wait 9 "

" I was afraid you would refuse your permission, and I wanted
80 very much to go to Mrs. Mason's."

Above all other virtues he reverenced and admired stern un-
varnished truth, and this strong element of "^k.^ reticent nature
had powerfully attracted him.

" Little girl, ani I such a stony-hearted ogre 9 ^ A strangely
genial smile warmed and brightened his usually grave, cold
face, and certainly at that>>tnomont Erie Palma showed one
aspect of his nature, neter exhibited before to any human
being.

" What a fascinating person this poor old Mrs. Mason must
be — absolutely tempting you to disobedience. Does she not
correspond with the saints in Oude 9 "

'' If you mean Mr. Lindsay and his mother, she certainly
hears from them occasionally."

" Why not phrasait — Mrs. Lindsay and her son 9 Was it
the dreadful news that malarial fever is epidemic at the Mis-
sions, or that the Sepoys are threatening another revolt, that
destroyed your appetite, unfitted you for the social amenities
of the dinner-table, and gave you heart-ache 9 "

" If there is such bad news, I did not hear it. Mrs. Mason
was not at home."

" Indeed ! Then whom did you see 9 "
" When I ascertained she was absent, I had already sent the
carriage away, and I came home, after stopping a few moments

in Square."

She grew very white as she spoke, and he saw her lips

quiver.

" Regina, what is the matter 9 "

She did not reply ; and bending toward her, he said in a low,
winning voice entirely unlike his usual tone :

"lily, trust your guardian."

Looking into his brilliant eyes, she felt tempted to tell him
all, to repose implicitly upon his wisdom and guidance, but
the image of Peleg Peterson ruse like a hideous warning spectre.

284

INFEUCX.

Readily interpreting the varying expression of a countenance
which he had so lone and carefully studied, he continued :

" You wish to tell me frankly, — but you shrink from the
ordeal. Lily what have you done, that you blush to confess
to me 1"

" Nothing, Sir."

** Why then do y<^\\ hesitate ? "

" Because other persons are involved. Oh, Mr. Palma ! I
am very unhappy."

She clasped her hands, and bowed her chin upon them, a
peculiar position into which sorrow always drove her.

" I inferred as much, from your manner while at the organ.
I am very sorry that my house is not a happy home for my
ward. Have you been subjected to any annoyances from the
members of my household 1 "

"None — whatever. All are kind and considerate. But I
can never be satisfied till I see my mother. I shall write to-
night, imploring her permission to join her in Europe, and I
beg that you will please use your influence in favour of my
wishes. Oh Sir ! do help me to go to my mother."

Hia smile froze, — his face hardened ; and he led her to a low
sofa capable of seating only two persons, and drawn near the
fire.

'• Madam f^ Ormc does not want her daughter, just yet."

" But I want my mother. Oh I must go 1 "

He took both her hands as they lay folded on her lap, opened
the clenched fingers, — clasping them softly in his own, so white
and shapely, — and his black eyes glittered :

" Am I cruel and harsh to my Lily, that she is so anxious to
run away from her guardian ? "

"No Sir,— oh no I Kind and very good, — consulting what
you consider my welfare in all things. But you can't take
mother's place in my heart."

" I assure you little girl, I do not want your mother's place."

Something peculiar in his tone, arrested her notice, and lift
ing her large lovely eyes she met his f sarching gaze. " Thai
is right, keep your eyes so, fixed steadily on mine, while, I dis
charge a rather delicate and embarrasing duty, which some
times devolves upon the grim guardians of pretty young ladies.
In your mother's absence I am supposed to occupy a quasi
parental position toward you ; and am the authorized custodiau
of your secrets, — should you like, most persons of your age,

-SIHR

INFKLICE.

285

chance to possess any. Your mother, you are aware, invested
me with this right as her vice-gerent, consequently you must
pardon the inquisition into the state of your affections, which
just now I am compelled to make. Altnough I consider you
entirely too young for such grave propositions, — it is never-
theless proper that I should be the medium of their presenta-
tion when they become inevitable. Upon the tender and very
susceptible heart of Mr. Elliott Eoscoe, — it appears, that either
with ' malice prepense,' or else, let us hope, — in innocent un-
consciousness, — you have been practising certain feminine wiles
and sorcery, which have so far cap^i/ed his reason, that he is
incapacitated for attending to his b ^^ss. When I remon-
strated against the lunacy into wb ,:^ is drifting, — he in
very poetic and chilvalric style — whicii it is unnecessary to re-
peat here, — assured me you were the element which had utterly
deranged his cerebral equipoise. Elliott Eoscoe is my cousin,
is a young gentleman of good character, good mind, good educa-
tion, good heart, and good manners, — and in due time may
command a good income from his profession ; but just now, in
pecuniary matters, he could not be considered a brilliant match.
Mr. Eoscoe informs me that he desires an interview with you
to-morrow, for the purpose of offering you his heart and hand,
— and while protesting on the ground of your youth, I have
promised to communicate his wishes to you, and should he be
favourably received, write to your mother at once."

Perplexed and contused, she had not fully comprehended his
purpose until he uttered the closing sentence, — and painful as-
tonishment kept her silent, — while as if spellbound her gaze
met his.

" Now it remains for you to answer one question. Should
your mother give her consent, does Miss Eegina Orme intend
to become my cousin % "

" Oh never ! You distress me ; you ought not to talk to me
of such things. I am so young, you know mother would not
approve of it."

She blushed scarlet, and attempted to withdraw her hands,
but found it impossible.

"Quite true, and, if crazy young gentlemen could be pre-
vailed upon to keep silent, — rest ^sured I should never have
broached a subject which I regard as premature. But while I
certainly applaud your good sense, it is rather problematical
whether I should feel gratified at your summary rejection of an

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286

tHrFBLTOE.

■

alliance with my consin. Are yoa folly resolved that I shall
never be related to you, except as your guardian ) "

" Yes, Sir. • I do not wish to be your cousin."

Once more the smile shone out suddenly, making sunshine
in his face.

*' Thank yon. At what hour will you see Mr. Botcoe f "

** At none. Please do not let him oome here, or speak to me
on that subject ; it would be so extremely painful. I should
never meet him afterwards without feeUng distressed, and
things would be intolerably disagreeable. Please Mr. Palma,
— shield me from it."

She involuntarily drew closer to him, as if for protection,
and noting the movement, he smiled, and tightened the clasp
of her hands.

" I cannot positively forbid him to address you on this ter-
rible topic ; but, if you wish it, I will endeavour to dissuade himi^
Elliott has Palma blood in his veins, — and that has certain nn-'
mistakable tendencies to obstinacy, — though its conduct in love
afTairs, yet remains to be tested ; but it occurs to me that if
you are in earnest in desiring to crush this foolish whim in the
bud, — you can very easily accomplish it by empowering me
to make to my cousin a simple statement, which will extinguish
the matter, beyond all possibility of resurrection."

*' Then tell him whatever your judgment dictates."

" My judgment must be instructed by facts, — ^and the simple
statement I propose, might involve grave consequences. Do
you atithorize me to close the discussion of this matter at once
and forever, by informing Mr. Koscoe that you cannot enter-
tain the thought of granting him an interview, — ^because his
suit is hopeless from the fact that your affections are already
engaged)"

She was too much embarrassed by his piercing merciless eyes,
to notice that he slipped one finger upon the pulse at her wrist,
— keeping her hands firmly in his warm clasp ;— or that he
leaned lower as he spoke, until his noble massive head veiy
nearly approached hers.

** I could not ask you to tell him that. It would be i^ntrue."

" Are you sure, — Lily 1 "

"Yes, Mr. Palma."

** Have you forgotten Mr? Lindsay 1 "

He thought for an instant that the pulse stood still, — then

i;.

ISFSLIOB.

287

beat regularly calmly on, and he wondered if his own tight
pressure had baffled his object.

" No — I shall never forget Mr. Lindsay.**

She did not shrink or colour, but a sad hopeless look crept
into her splendid eyes, at the mention of his name.

" You are certain that the young Missionary will not prove
the obstacle to your becoming more closely related to your
guardian ? Thus &tr, I have found you singularly truthful in
all things. Be careful that just here, you deceive neither your-
self, nor me. There is a tradition that in the river Inachus is
found a peculiar stone resembling a beryl, which turns black in
the hands of those who intend to bear false witness ; and you
can readily understand that law^ e s find such stones invaluable
in the court-room. I have placed you on the witness stand,
and my beryl-tinted seal ring presses your palm at this instant.
Be frank ; are you not very deeply attached to Mr. Lindsay t "

Suddenly a burning flush bathed her brow, she struggled to
free her hands in order to hide her face from his glowing, prob-
ing eyes, but his hold was unyielding as a band of steel ; and
hardly conscious where she "found shelter, she turned and
pressed her cheek against his shoulder, striving to avoid that
inquisitorial gaze.

She did not sec his face grow gray and stony, or that the
white teeth gnawed the lower lip ; but when he spoke his voice
was stem and indescribably icy.

" My ward should study her heart before she empowers her
guardian to consider it unoccupied property. You should at
least inform your mother that it has become a mere missionary
station.

With her hot cheeks still hidden against his shoulder, she
exclaimed :

" NOj no ! You do not at all understand me. I feel to him,
to Douglass, exactly as I did when he went away."

" So I infer. Your feeling is sufficiently apparent.*

" Not what you imagine. When he left me I promised him
I would always love him as I did then ; and I told him what
was true — that I loved him next to my mother. But not as you
mean— oh no I If God had given me a brother, I should think
of him exactly as I do of dear Douglass. I miss him very
much — ^more than I can express, and I love him, and want to^
see him. But T never had any other thought, except as his
adopted sister, until this moment when you spoke, and it

288

XNFELICB.

shocked, it almost humiliated me. Indeed my feeling for him
is almost holy, and your thought — your meaning seems to
me sacrilegious. He is my noble true friend, my dear good
brother, and you must not think such things of him and of me,
it hurts me."

For nearly a moment there was silence.

Mr. Palma dropped one of her hands, and his arm passed
quickly round her shoulder, while his open palm pressed her
head closer against him.

" Ts my ward sure that if he wished to be more than a brother,
she would never reciprocate — would never cherish a different
feeling — a stronger affection 1 "

" He could never wish that. He is so much older and wiser
and better than I am ; and looks on me only as a little sister."

** Is superiority in years and wisdom the only obstacle you
can imagine 1 "

" I have never thought of it at all until you spoke, and it
is painful to me. It seems disrespectful to connect such ideas
as yours with the name of one whom I honour as my brother."

He put his hand under her chin, turning her face to view

despite her struggles to prevent it, and bending his head- he

did not kiss her ? Oh no i Erie Palma had never kissed any-
one since his childhood ; but for one instant his dark cheek was
laid close to hers with a tender, caressing touch that astonished
her as completely as if one of the bronze statuettes on the con-
sole above her head had laughed aloud and clapped its metallic
hands.

" Henceforth the ' disrespectful idea ' shall never be asso-
ciated with the name of Mr. Douglass Lindsay, and in the
future, I warn you, there shall be none but a purely fraternal
niche allowed him ; moreover it is not requisite that you should
speak of him as ' dear Douglass ' in order to assure me of your
sisterly regard. What I shall do with my unfortunate young
cousin is not quite so transparent ; for Elliott will not receive*
his rejection by proxy."

He had withdrawn his arm and released her hand, and, rising,
she exclaimed impetuously : ^

"Tell him that Begina Orme will never permit him to broach
tha.t subject and tell him too, that I am a waif, — a girl over
whose parentage hangs a shadow dark and chill as a psJl Oh !
tell him I want my mother, and an honourable unsullied name,
— and until I can find these, I have no room in my mind or
heart, — for a lover 1 "

tNFELICE,

289

As the events of the day, temporarily banished from her
thoughts by the unexpected character of the interviews-rushed
back with renewed force and bitterness, — the transient colour
died out of her face, leaving it strangely wan and worn in
aspect ; and Mr. Palmasaw now that purple shadows lay beneath
the deep eyes, rendering them more than ever prophetic in their
solemn mournful expression.

'^ What unusual occurrence has stimulated your interest and
curiosity concerning your parentage ? "

" It never slumbers. It is the last thought at night ; and the
first when day dawns. It is a burden that is never lifted, —
that galls continually ; — and sometimes, as to-night, I feel that I
cannot endure it much loager."

" You must be patient, — ^for awhile at least "

" Yes — I have heard that for ten long years, and I have been
both patient and silent ; — but the time has come when I can
bear no more. Anything positive, definite — susceptible of
proof, — no matter how distressing, — would be more tolerable
than this suspense, — this maddening conjecture. I will see my
mother ; — I must know the truth, — be it what it may ! "

The witchery of childhood had vanished forever. Even the
glimmer of hope seemed paling in the almost supernatural eyes,
that had grown prematurely womanly ; — viewing life no more
through the rainbow lenses of sanguine girlhood, but henceforth
as an anxious woman haunting the penetralia of sorrow, — never
oblivious of the fact that over her path hovered the gibing spec-
tre of disgrace.

The unwonted recklessness of her tone and mien, annoyed
and surprised her guardian, and while a frown gathered on his
brow, he rose and stood beside her.

" Your petulant vehemence is both unbecoming and displeas-
ing ; and in future you will do well to recollect that as a child
submitted to my guidance by your mother's desire, it is dis-
respectful both to her and to me, to insist upon a course, at
variance with our judgment and wishes."

" I am not a child. To-day I know, — I feel I have done for-
ever with my old — happy childhood ; — I am — what I wish I
were-not,— a woman. Oh Mr. Palma! be merciful, and send
me to my mother."

He looked down into Idie worn face gleaming under the gas*
lamps of the chandelier, — into the shadowy eloquent eyes, —
and noting the bloodless lips drawn sharply into curves oi pain,
his hand fell upon her shoulder.

390

INFELIOB.

** Lily because I am merciful I shall keep you here. I am
not a pMient man, am unKCcustomed to teasing importunity, —
and it would pain me to harshly bruise the white flower I have
undertaken to shelter from storm and dust ;— therefore you
must be quiet, docile, and annoy me no more with fruitless
solicitations. Your mother does not want you in Europe^ *

" You will not let me go 1 "

*' I will not. Let this subject rest henceforth, until I renew
it."

With a faint moan, she shut her eyes and shivered; and
again he took her little white cold hands.

" Little snow-statue, why will you not trust me ? Tell me
what has so suddenly changed the soft white Lily bud of yes-
terday,— into this hollow-eyed, — defiant young woman ? "

The temptation was powerful, to unburden her heart, to de*
mand of him the truth, with which she suspected he was ai
least — ^partly acquainted j but the thought of casting so fearful
an imputation upon her mother, sealed her lips. Moreover she
felt assured that her entreaties would never prevail upon him
to disclose, what he deemed it expedient to conceal.

He watched and understood the struggle, and a cold smile
moved his handsome mouth.

" You have resolved to withhold your confidence. Very well,
I shall never again solicit it. It is not my habit to petition for
that which I have a right to command. You merely force ine
to draw the reins; where I preferred you should at least ima-
gine you were unbridled."

He dropped her hands, looked at his watch, and took up his
gloves ; adding in an entirely altered an'1 indifferent voice :

" What have you lost to-day 1 "

It was with difficulty that she restrained the words :

" My youth — ^my peace of mind — my hope and faith in my
future."

Raising her hands wearily, she rested her chin upon them,
and answered, slowly :

" Many things, I fear."

" Valuable articles % Faded flowers — perfumed with choice
oriental reminiscences 1 "

" Yes, Sir, I lost my pnrse, and my Agra violets."

" What reward will y )U offer for the recovery of such
precious relics of fraternal affection ? A promise of implicit
obedience to your guardian ? Certainly they are worth that
rifle i"

INFELTOe.

201

'' They are very preoioas indeed. Where did you find my
purse 1 "

** On the desk at my office."

He held up the ivory toy, then laid it on lf)e table.

** Thank you, Sir. Mr. Palma, will yon grant me a great
favour 1"

' " As I never forfeit my word, I avoid entangling myself rashly
in the meshes of promise. Just now I am in no mood to grant
your unreasonable petitions, still I will be glad to hear what
my ward desires of her guardian."

Her lip quiverred, and his heart smote him, as he observed
her wounded expression. She was silent, still resting her
drooped head on her folded hands.

" Regina, I am waiting to hear you.*

*' It is useless. You would refuse me."

" Probably I should ; yet I prefer that you should erpresa
your wishes, and afford me an opportunity of judging of their
propriety."

She sighed and shook her head.

** I sh^l not permit such childish trifling. Tell me at once,
what you wish me to dp."

" Will you be so kind as to lend me twenty-five dollars until
I receive my remittance 1"

His eyes fell beneath her timidly pleading gaze, and a deep
flush of embarassment passed over his face.

'' That depends upon the use you intend to make of it. If
you desire to run away from me, I am afraid you must borrow
of some one else. Do you wish to pay your passage to
Europe % "

" Oh, no ! I wish that I could ! You allow me no snch
comforting hope."

« What do you want with it ? "

" I cannot tell you."

" Because you know that your object is improper ? "

" No, Sir ; but you would not understand my motives."

« Try me."

" 1 will not. I hoped you would have sufficient confidence
in me, to grant my request without demanding my reasons."

" I have confidence in the purity of your motives.' I do not

question the goodness of your heart, or the propriety of your

ntentions ; but I gravely doubt the correctness of your youth-

292

INFXUOB.

ful judgment Do not force me to refuse you euoh a trivial
thing. Tell me your purpose."

•*No,Sir."

A proud grieved look crossed her delicate features.

He walked away, reached the door, then came back for one
of his gloves, which had fallen on the rug.

" Mr. Palma."

" WeU.^Mis8 Orme."

"Trust me."

He looked down in her beautiful sad eyes, and his heart
began to throb fiercely.

"Lily,— I will."

" Some day I will explain everything."

" When do you want the money 1 "

" To-morrow morning, if you please."

" At breakfast you will find ;t in an envelope under your
pkte."

" Thank you, Sir. It is for "

" Hush 1 Tell me nothing, till you tell me all. I prefer to
trust you entirely, and I shall wait fur the hour when no con-
cealmciil exists between us ; when your Sbcret thoughts are as.
much my property, as my own. Less than that, will never
content your exacting guardian, but that hour is very dist£>nt."

She took hii^ hand and pressed her soft lips upon it, ere he
could snatch it away."

" God grant that hour may come speedily."

" Amen, — Lily. You look strangely worn and ill ; and your
eyes are distressiugly elfish and shadowy. Go to sleep, Uttle

g'rl ; and forget that you forced me to be stem and harsh,
emember that your guardian, in defiance of his judgment,
trusts you fully, — entirely."

He turned quickly and quitted the library before she could
reply, and soon after, hearing the street door dose, she knew
he had gone to Mrs. Tarrant's.

■■•— ipPfMff^.

INFBLWE.

293

CHAPTER XXII.

|HE letter which Re^na wrote that night, was earnest,
' almostpassionate.initsappealthatshemightbepermitted
to join her mother ; yet no hint ofthe biU noire of the
Square darkened its contents, —for the writer felt that
omy face to face, eye to eye, could she ask her mother
that fearful question, upon which her future peace depended.

Having sealed and addressed the envelope, she extinguished
the light, and tried to find in sleep that blessed oblivion which
nature mercifully provides for aching hearts, and heavily laden
brains ; but about three o'clock 'she heard the carriage at the
front door, the voices of the trio ascending the stairs, — and
once a ringing tr iuqaphant laugh which was peculiarly Olga's,
— then all grew still in the house, and quiet in the street.

Unable to compose herself, tossing restlesssly on her bed, —
with hot throbbing temples, and a sore heart, Eegina wearily
listened for the low silvery strokes of the clock, and when it
announced half-past three,^ — she began to long fur daylight.

Sui'denly, although warned by not even the faintest sound,
she became aware that she was not alone ; that a human being
was breathing the same atmosphere. Starting into a sitting
posture, she exclaimed :
*' Who is there?"

" Hush ! I am no burglar. Don't make a rcise.**
Simultaneously she heard the stroke of a mat /.tM and a small
wax taper was lighted and held high over Olga'8 head, show-
ing her tall form enveloped in a cherry-coloured aressing-gown
and shawl. Stepping cautiously across the floor she lighted
one of the gas burners, placed the taper on the bureau, and
came to the bedside.

" Make room for me. I am cold, — my feet are like ice.'*
" What is the matter 1 Has anything happened) "
" Nothing particularly new or strange. Something happens
every hour you know ; people are born, bartered, — die and are
buried ; — lives get blackened and hearts bleed, — and are tram-
pled by human hoofs, until they are crushed beyond recogni-
tion. My dear, civilization is a huge cheat, and the Red I^w
of Savages in primeval night, is worth all the tomes of

294

IHFELICE.

jurisprudence, from the Pandects of Justinian,— to the Oom-
mentaries of Blackstone, and the wisdom of Ooke and Story.
Oh halcyon days of Pre-historic humanity I When instead of
bowing and smiling, and chatting gracefully with one's deadliest
foe, — drinking his Amontillado, and eating his truffles, — people
had the sublime satisfaction of roasting his flesh, and caldnmg
his bones, — ^for an antediluvian dejeuner ik la fourchetU^ — (only
to escape anacronism) — mns fourchette / What a pity I have not
the privileges of la belle mmaget far away in some cannibal nook
of pagan Polynesia."

She was sitting with the bedclothes drawn closely over her,
and Kegina could scarcely recognise in the pale, almost hag-
gard face beside her, the radiant laughing woman who had
seemed so daszling a few hours before, as she hurried away in
her festive rubes.

*< Olga, you talk like a heathen." '^

** Of course. To be sincere, unselfish, — honest and womanly,
— is nowaday inevitablv heathenish. I wish I had a nose as
flat as a buckwheat cake, — and lips three inches thick, with
huge brass rings dangling from both ! And for raiment, — in-
stead of Worth's miracles, — a mantle of featherwork, or a deer-
skin cut into fringe, and studded with blue glass beads ! Civil-
ization is a gibing imposture, — and religion is laughing in its

sacerdotal sleeves, — at its own unblushing "

"Hush, Olga I You are blasphemous. No wonder you
shiver as you talk. New York is full of noble Christians, —
of generous charming people, and there must be some wicke l-
ness everywhere. Don't you know that God will ultimately
overrule all, and evangelize the world 1 "

** Peut-itre / fiut I have not even the traditional grain of
mustard seed to sow ; and I might answer you as Laplace once
did: * Je n*avais pas besoin de cette hj/pothis6."*

" Had you a pleasant evening at Mrs. Tarrant's 1 " asked
Regina, anxious to change the topic.

" Wonderfully brilliant, and quite a topaz success. I sparkled,
blazed, and people complimented profusely, — (criticizing sottc
voce,) and envied openly ; aud when I bowed myself outatla&t,
I felt like Sir Peter Teazle on quitting Lady Sneerwell's : ' I
leave my character behind me. Mamma was charmed with
me, and Mr. Silas Midas looked proud possession, as if he had
in his vest pocket a bill of sale to every pound of my white
flesh, — aud Mr. Erie Palma smiled as benignly as some cast-

INFEUCE,

S9B

iron statue of Pluto, — freshly painted white, and glistening in
the sunshine. Apropos ! I asked him to-night if he would
loosen his martinet rein upon you, and permit you to make
your dihut in society as my bridesmaid 1 How those madden-
ingly white teeth of his glittered, as he smiled approvingly
at the proposition 1 Whenever they gleam out, they remind
me of a ti^er preparinff to crunch the bones of a tender gazelle,
or a bleating lamb. rTow you comprehend what brings me
here at this unseasonable hour 1 Armed with your noble guar-
dian's sanction, I crave the honour of your services as brides-
maid ab mv approaching nuptials. Your dress, dear, must be
gentiancouMired silk to match your eyes, and clouded over with
tulle of the same hue, relieved by sprays of gentians with silver
leaves glittering like icicles, — and you shall look on that occa-
sion, as lovely as an orthodox Hebrew angel ;<— or what is far
more stylish, — beautiful as ox-eyed Her^ poised above Olympos,
— watching old Zeus flirt surreptitiously with Aphrodite 1 Will
you be first bridesmaid V

''No. I will not be your bridesmaid. I could never co-
operate in the unhallowed scheme of wedding a man whom you
despise. Oh, Olga t Do not degrade yourself by such a mer-
cenary traffic." ^

" My dear uncontaminated innocent, don't you see that so
ciety, and mamma, and Erie Palma have all conspired to make
an Isaac of me 1 Bound hand and foot, I lie on the Moriah
of fashionable life ; but the ^im fact stares me in the face,
that no ram will be forthcoming when the slaughter begins !
No relenting hand will stay the uplifted knife. Diana will not
snatch me into Tauris, -and mamma cannot sail prosperously
from the Aulis of Erie Palma's charity, until I am sacrificed.
Ah ! The pitying tenderness of maternal love ! "

She spoke with intolerable bitterness, and Eegina put one
arm around her.

" Olga, she loves you too well to doom you to lifelong misery.
You always talk so mockingly, — and say so many queer things
you do not mean, — that she does not realize your true senti-
ments. Show her your heart, your real feelings, and she will
never consent to see you marry that man."

" Do you believe that I successfully mask my heart 1 ^ot
from mamma, not from Erie Palma. They know all its tor-
tures, all its wild desperate struggles, and they are confident
that after awhile I shall wear out my own opposition, and sul-

296

IJfFXIdOB,

lenly succumb to their wishes. They have taken an inventory
of Silas Gongreve's worldly coods, and in exchange would

fladly brand his name as title-deed upon my brow. To-night,
have danced, laughed, chattered like a yellow parrot, — ate,
drank champagne, flattered, flirted and fibbed — until I am well
nigh mad. It seems to me that a whole legion of demons lie
in wait outside of your door, to seize my shivering desolate
soul."

She shuddered, and pressed her fingers over her glittering
eyes.

" Regina you are a silly young thing, as ignorant of the ways
of the world, as an unfledged Java sparrow ; but your heart is
pure and true, and your aiSection is no adroitly set steel-trap,
to spring unawares, and catch and cut me. From the day
when you first came among us, with your sweet childish face
and holy eyes, — as much out of place in this house, — as Abel's
saintly countenance would be in Galna, — I have watched and
believed in you ; and my wretched worldly heart began to put
out fibres toward you, as those hyacinths there in your bulb-
glasses grow roots. Will it be safe for me to confide in you 1
Can I tinist you 1 "

"I think so."

** Will you promise to keep secret whatever I may tell you I '*

"Does it concern only yourself? "

*' Only myself, and one other person whom you do not even
know. If I venture to tell you anything, you must give me
your solemn promise to betray me to no human being. I want
your sympathy at least, for I feel desperate."

Looking pityingly at her pale sorrowful face and quivering
mouth, Regina drew closer to her.

" You may trust me. I will never betray you."

" Not to mamma, not to your guardian 1 You promise 1 "

Her cold hand seized her companion's, and wistfully her hol-
low eyes searched the girl's face.

" I promise."

** Would you help me to escape from the misery of this fine
marriage 1 Are you brave enough to meet your guardian's
black frown, and freezing censure ) "

" I hope I am brave enough to do right ; and you certainly
would not expect or desire me to do anything wrong."

Olga threw her arms around Regina, and leaned her head on
her sboulder. She seemed for a time shaken by some storm of

!'.'

lyWELlCE.

397

•orrow, that thrtitentd to bear away all he** habitnal restraint,
and Regina ailently stroked her glossy red hair, waiting to hear
some painful revelation.

"I think I never should have ventured to divulge my misery
to you, if you had not seen me yesterday, and abstained from
all allusion to the matter, when you saw that I boldly ignored
it. Do you suspect the nature of my errand to East —
Street 1"

" I thought it possible- that vou wert engaged in some chari-
table mission ; at least I hopea so."

'* Charitable f Then you considered liie f^'gned sickness u
' pious fraud,' and did not condemn me 1 If uhari^ carried me
there, it was solely charity to my suffering starving; heart,
which cried out for its idol. You have heard of Dirce and
Damiens dragged by wild beasts 1 Theirs was a mere after-
noon airing in comparison with the raco I am driven bv the
lash of your guardian, — the spur of mamma, and the frantin
wails of my famished heart. I wish I could speak without
bitterness, and mockery and exaggeration, but it has grown to
be a part of my nature, — as features habituated to a mask in-
sensibly assume to some extent its outlines. I will try to put
aside my flippant hollow attempts at persiflage, which consti-
fiute my worldly mannerism, and tell you in a few simple words.
When I was about your age, I think my nature must have re-
sembled yours, for many of your ideas and views of duty in this
life, remind me in a mourmuUy vague, tender way of my own
early youth ; and from that far distant time, taunting reminis-
cences float down to me, — whispers from my old self long, long,
dead. Wheli I was seventeen, I went one June to sx^end some
weeks with my grandmother Neville, who was an invalid, and
resided on the Hudson, near a very picturesque spot, which
artists were in the habit of frequenting with their sketch-books.
Allowed a degree of liberty which mamma never accorded me
at home, I availed myself of the lax regimen of my grand-
mother, and roamed at will about the beautiful country adja-
cent. In one of these ill-fated excursions I encountered a
young artist, — who was spending a few days iu the neighbor-
hood. I was a simple-hearted school-girl, untutored in worldly
wisdom, and had always spent my vacations with grandmother
who was afflicted with no aristocratic whims and vagaries ; —
who thought it not wholly unpardonable to be poor, — and was

298

INFELICE.

BO old-fashioned as to judge people from their merits,— not by
the amount of their income tax.

" Belmont Eggleston, was then about twenty-fiv«, very hand-
some, very talented, full of chivalric enthusiasm, and as refined
and tender in sensibility as a woman. We met accidentally at
a farm-house, where a sudden shower drove us for shelter, and
from that hour neither could forget the other. It was the old,
old immemorial story, — two fresh young souls united, — two
hearts exchanged, — two lives forever entangled. We walked
and rode together, he taught me drawing, — came now and then
and spent the long summer afternoons, and grandmother liked
and welcomed him ; — offered no obstacle to the strong current
of love that ran like a golden stream for those few hallowed
weeks, — and afterward, — found only rapids and whirlpools.
How deliriously happy I was ! What a glory seems even now,
to linger about every tree and rock that we visited together !
He told me he was very poor, and was encumbered with the
care of an infirm mother and sister, and of a young brother
who displayed great plastic skill, and gave promise of becom-
ing renowned in sculpture, while Belmont was devoted to
painting. He frankly explained his poverty, detailed his plans,
—expatiated with beautiful poetic fervour upon the hopes that
gilded his future, and asked my sympathy and affection. While
he was obscure, he was unwilling to claim me, — his love was
too unselfish to transplant me from a sphere of luxury and afflu-
ence to one of pecuniary want ; — and he only desired that I
would patiently wait until his genius won recognition. One
star-lit night, standing on the bank of the river, with the per-
fume of jasmines stealing over us, — I put my hand in his, and
pledged my heart, my life for his. Nearly eight years have
passed since then, but no shadow of regret has ever crossed my
mind for the solemn promise I gave ; and despite all I have
suffered, — were it in my power to cancel the past, — I would
not ! Bitter waves have broken over me, but the memory of
my lover, of his devotion, — is sweeter— oh ! sweeter than my
hopes of heaven 1 God forgive me if it be sinful idolatry. It
is the one golden link that held me back, that saves me. now,
from selling my self to Satan. In the midst of that rose-crowned
June and July, in the height of my innocent happiness, mamma
fell upon UG, as a hawk swoops upon a dove-cote, dividing a
cooing pair. Disguising nothing, I freely told her all, and Bel-
mont nobly pleaded for permission to prove his worthiness.

INFSLICE.

299

Grandmother was a powerful ally, and perhaps the result oiight
have been different, and mamma would have ultimately been
won over, had not Erie Palma's counsel been sought. That
cold blooded tyrant has been the one curse of my life. But for
him, I should be to-day a Sappy, loving, blesi^ied wife. Do
you wonder that I hate him % How I have longed for the
seven Apocalyptic vials of wrath ! He and mamma conferred.
An investigation concerning the Egglestons elicited the fatal
fact, that some branch of the family had once been accused of
embezzlement, — had been prosecuted by Erie Palma, — and in
defiance of his efforts to convict him, had been acquitted.
Mamma and your guardian possessed then, as now, only one
criterion :

' He is poor, and that's suspicious,— he is unknoTvn
And that's defenceless ! '

Then and there, they sternly prohibited even my acquaint-
ance with one, to whom I had promised all that woman can
give of affection, faith and deathless constancy. No more pity
or regard was shown to my agony of heart and mind, than the
cattle drover manifests in driving innocent dumb horned crea-
tures from quiet clover meadows where they browsed in peace,-^
to the reeking public shambles. Even a parting interview was
denied me, but clandestinely I found an opportunity to renew
my vows, — to assure Belmont that no power on earth should
compel me to renounce him, — and that if necessary I would
wait twenty years for him to claim me. Older and wiser than
I, he realized what stretched before me, and while repeatedly
assuring me his love was inextinguishable, — he generously at-
tempted to dissuade me from defying those who had legal con-
trol of me. So we parted, — pledged irrevocably one to the
other ; and whenever we have met, since that summer, it has
been by strategy. My mother fiT)m the day when the doom oi
my love was decreed, — has been deaf to my pleadings, and
my heart-breaking cries, — as the Golden Calf was to the indig-
nant denunciations of Moses. I was hurried prematurely into
society, thrown into a maelstrom of gayety that whirled me as
though I were a dancing dervish,— and left me apparently no
leisure for retrospection or regret ; or for the indulgence of the
rosy dream that lay like a lovely morning cloud above and be-
hind me. My clothing was costly and tasteful ; 1 was exhibited
fit Saratoga, Long Branch and Newport, — those popular Human

" '"''•^■^T'^T'^f * "

300

INFELICE,

Expo6;uou(»,<p.where wealth and fashion flock to display and
uuiupaae 'heir textile fabrics and jewellery, — as less 'devcx-
oped ' .^abUe still on four feet — ^are hurried to State Fairs, to as-
certain the value of their pearly; short horns, thin tails, and
satin-coated skins. No expense or pains were spared, and my
mother's step-son certainly lavished his money as well as ad-
vice upon me. At long intervals I had stolen interviews with
Belmont, then he went far south to study for a tropical land-
scape, and was absent two years. When he returned, beaming
wiui hope, the cloud over our lives seemed silvering at the
edges, and he was sanguine that his picture would compel
recognition, and bring him fame, — which, in art, means food.
But Erie Palma had resolved otherwise. It was our misfortune,
that, in my haste to see the picture, I neglected my usual pre-
' cautionary measures to elude suspicion, and your guardian
tracked me to the attic, where the finishing touches were being
put on. Unluckily Belmont was never a favourite among the
artists, and he explained to me that it was because he was
proud, reticent, — and held himself aloof from their club life and
social haunts. Taking advantage of his personal unpopularity,
your magnanimous guardian organized a cabal against him.
No sooner was the painting exhibited, than a tirade of ridicule
and abuse was poured upon it, and the journal most influential
in forming and directing artistic taste, contained an overwhelm-
ingly adverse criticism, which was written by a particular Mend
and chum of Erie Palma, — who, I am con^dnced, caused its
preparation. Oh, Begina ! it was a cruel, cruel stab, that en-
tered my darling's noble tender heart, and almost maddened
him. In literature, savage criticism defeats its own unamiable
purpose, by promoting the sale of books it is designed to
crush ; but unfortunately this law does not often operate in the
department of painting. In a fit of gloomy despondency, Bel-
mont offered his lovely work ^r a mere trifle, but the picture
dealers declined to touch it at any price, and rashly cutting it
from the frame, he threw the labour of years into the flames.
Meantime grandmamma had died, and Belmont's mother be-
came hopelessly bedridden, while his young brother had biade
his way to Europe, where he occupied a menial position in a
sculptor's atelier at Florence. A more rigid surveillance Was
exerted over me, and the dancing dervishes crowned me queen
of their revels. By day and by night I was surrounded with
influences intended to begui^- me from the past, to narcotizu

INFELIOE.

801

memory, — ^to make me in reality the heartless, soulless, scoffing
creature that I certainly seem. But Erie Palma has found me
stiff tough clay, and, despite his efforts, I have been true to the
one love of my life. What I have suffei ed, none but the listen-
ing watching God above us, knows; and sometimes I despise
and loathe myself for the miserable subterfuges I am forced to
practice, in order to elude my keepers. Poor mamma loves
me, — after a selfish worldly fashion, and there are moments
when I really think she pities me ; but from Palma influence
and association wealth has long been her most precious fetich.
Poverty, obscuritv terrify her, and for the fleshpots of Fashion
she would literally sell me, as she once sold herself to Godwin
Palma. Repeatedly I have been urged to accept offers of
marriage that revolted every instinct of my nature, — that
seemed insulting to a woman who long ago gave away all that
was best, in her heart's idolatrous love. To-day my Belmont
is teu-fold dearer, than when, m the dawning flush of woman-
hood, I pUghted my lifelong faith to him ; and reigns more
royally than ever, over all that is good and true in my per-
verted and cynical nature. I cling' to him, to my faith in his
noble, manly, unselfish, undying love for me, — unworthy as I
know I have grown, — even as a drowning wretch to some over-
hanging bough, which alone saves her from the black destruc-
tion beneath. Unable to conquer the opposition he encountered
here, Belmont went West, and finally strayed into the solitudes
of Oregon and British America. At one time, for a year, I did
not know whether he were living or dead, — and what torture
I silently endured ! Six months ago he returned, buoyed by
the hope of retrieving his past ; and one of his pictures was
bought by a wealthy man in Philadelphia, who has com-
missioned him to paint two more landscapes. At last we began
to dream of an hi mble little home somewhere, ^ere at least
we should have the blessing of our mutual love - presence.
The thought was magnetic, — it-showed me there was some good
left in my poor scofiin^ soul ; that I possessed capacity for hap-
piness, for self-sacrificing devotion to my noble Belmont, — that
made our future seem a canticle. Oh I how delicious was the
release I imagined I "

She groaned aloud, and rocked herself to and fro, with a
hopelessness that awed and grieved her pale mute listener.

" The Fates are fond of Erie Palma. They will pet him to

,>i.'l*^'?*e.--««-J..

302

INFMLICE.

the end, for he is a man after their own flinty hearts ; — piti-
less as those grim three, whom Michael Angelo must have seen
during nightmare. When I think how he will gloat over the
overthrow of my darling hope, I feel that it is scarcely safe for
me to remain under his roof, — I am so powerfnlly tempted to
strangle him. Exposure to the rigour of two winters in the
far North-West, has seriously undermined Belmont's health.
His physician apprehends consumption, and orders him to
hasten to Southern Europe, or South America."

For some moments Olga was silent, and her mournful eyes
were fixed on the wall, with a half vacant stare, as her thoughts
wandered to her unfortunate lover.

Regina could scarcely realize that this pallid face so full of
anguish, was the radiant mocking countenance she had hitherto
seen only in mask, — and taking her hand she pressed it gently,
to recall her attention.

" Feeling as you do, dear Olga, how can you think of marry-
ing Mr. Congreve 1 "

" Marrying him ! I do not, — I am not yet quite so degraded
as that implies. I would sooner buy a pistol, or an ounce of
arsenic, and end all this misery. While Belmont lives, — I be-
long to him,^ — I love him as I never have loved any one else ;
but when he is takipn from me, — only Heaven sees — what will
be my wretched fate. Destiny has made a foot-ball of the
most precious hope that ever gladdened a woman's heart, —
and when the end comes, — I rather think Erie Palma will not
curl his granite lips, and taunt me. My assent to the Con-
greve purchase is but a rmet-^io. other words, honest words —
a disgraceful subterfuge, — fraud, — to gain time. I can bear
the l^e I lead, no longer, and ere many days I shall burst my
fetters, and snatch freedom,— no matter what cost I pay here-
after."

" Olga you cannot mean what you intend "

" No matter what I intend, I shall not falter when the time
comes. Yesterday I went to see his mother,— poor patient
sufferer,— and to learn the latest tidings from my darling. You
saw me when I entered, and no doubt puzzled your brainib to
reconcile the inconsistency of my conduct. Your delicate re-
ticence entitles you to this explanation. Now you know all
my sorrow, and no matter what happens you must not betray
mv movements. From this house, my letters to Belmont have

— «*-*«^^.

INFBLICE.

303

been intercepted, and our correeioondence hM been long con-
ducted under cover to his mother."

" Where ia he now 1"

"In Philadelphia."

" How is he 1"

" No better. His physician says January muBt find him en
route to a warmer climate."

" When did you see him last ? "

''In September. Even then his cough rendered me anxious,
but he laughed at my apprehensions. Oh God ! be merciful
to him and to me ! I know I am unworthy, — I know I have
a bitter wicked tongue, and a world of hate in my heart, — but
if God would be pitiful, if He only spares my darling's life, — I
will try to be a better woman."

She leaned her head once more on Begina's shoulder, and
burst into a flood of tears, — the first her companion had ever
seen her shed. After some minutes, the sympathising listener
said :

" Perhaps if you appealed frankly to Mr. Palma, and showed
him the dreadful suffering of your heart, he would relent."

" You don't know him. Does a lion relent, with his paw
upon his prey 1 "

" His opposition must arise from an erroneous view of what
would best promote your happiness. He cannot be actuated by
merely vindictive motives, and I am sure he would sympathize
with you, if he realized the intensity of your feelings."

"I would as soon expect ancient Cheops to dissolve in tears,
at the recital of my woes ; or that statue of Washington in
Union Square to dismount and wipe my eyes ! An Eggleston
once defied and triumphed over him in the Courtroom ; and
defeat, Erie Palma never forgets, never forgives. He pro-
poses to give me ten thousand dollars as a bridal present, when
owning millions, I need it not ; — and to- day one-half that
amount would make me the happiest woman in all America, —
would epable Belmont to travel South and re-establish his
health, — would render two wretched souls everlastingly happy,
— ^and grateful ! Ah how happy ! "

" Tell him so ! Try him just once more, and I have an abid-
ing faith that he will generously respond to your appeal."

Olga looked compassionately at her companion for an instant,
and the old bitter laugh jarred upon the girl's ears.

" Poor little dove trying your wings in the upper air, — flash-

^WW;a iiM lhl f | t« | >H .wr.<- -

304

INFSLICE.

ing the silver in the sun ; — fancying you are free to circle in
the heavens so blue above you ! Your wary hawk — watches
patiently, only waiting for you to soar a little higher, venture
a little farther from the shelter of the dovecote ; — then he will
strike you down, — fasten his talons in your heart. ' fie ye
wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.' The first you have
yet to learn, — and with Erie Falma as your preceptor, your pro*
spective tuition fees are heavy. You are a sweet good earnest-
hearted child, — but in this house, you need to be something
quite different, — a Seraph. Do you understand ? Now you
are only a cherub, which in the original means dove ; but some
day, if you live here, you will learn the wisdom of the Seraph,
— which means serpent ! I know little ' Latin, less Greek,'
no Hebrew, — ^but a learned seer of New England taught me
this."

She tossed aside the bedclothes, and sprang out upon the
floor, wrapping herself in her cherry coloured shawl.

"Five o'clock, I daresay. Out of doors it is gray daylight,
and I ir.ust go bac!^ to my own room unobserved. What a
world of sorrowful sympathy shines in your wonderful eyes %
What a pity you can't die now, just as you are, for then your
pure, sinless soul would float straight to that Fifth Heaven of
the Midrash, ' Can-Eden,' which is set apart exclusively for the
souls of noble women, and Pharaoh's daughter, who is presumed
to be Queen there, would certainly make you maid of honour I
One word more, before I run away. Do you know why Cleo-
patra is coming here 1 "

" Olga, I do not in the least understand half you are saying."

Olga's large white hand smoothed back the hair that clouded
the girl's forehead, and she asked, almost incredulously :

" Don't you really know that the Sorceress of the Nile drifts
hither in her gilded barge 1 You have heard of Brunella Carew,
the richest woman in the Antilles ? She is the most dangerous
of smooth-skinned witches-^ fascinating as Phryne, but more
wisely discreet. When you see her . you will be at once re-
minded of Owen Meredith's ' Fatality : '

* live hair afloat with snakes of gold, \

And a throat as white as snow,
And a stately figure and foot,
And that faint pink smile, so sweet, so cold.'

*^xxn\ now this Cuban widow is the fashionable lioness ; she
,ff alsr f. pK diPvMf of Erie Palma, and comes here to-day on a

• I

".i^f'WS'*^'

INFELICE,

305

•I

brief visit. Heaven grant she prove his Lamia 1 As she affects
Oriental style, I call her Cleopatra, which pleases her vastly.
Having been endowed at birth with beauty and fortune, her
remaining ambition is to appear fastidious in literature, and
dilettante in art, and if you wish to stretch her on St. Lawrence's
gridiron, you have only to offer a quotation or illustration
which she cannot understand. Beware of the poison of asps.
There is an object to be accomplished by inviting her here, and
you may safely indulge the belief that her own campaign is
well matured. Keep your solemn, sinless eyes wide open, and
don't under any circumstances quarrel with poor Elliott Kos-
coe. One drop of his blood floats more generosity ^nd magna-
nimity than all the blue ice in his cousin's body. He was in
a savage mood last night at Mrs. Tarrant's, and had some angry
words with your guardian, who, of course, treated him as he
would a spoiled boy. Roscoe at least has, or had a heart.
There is the day staring at us ! I must be gone. Remember
— I have trusted you."

She left the room, closing the door noislessly, and Begina
was lost in perplexing conjectures concerning the significance
of her parting warning.

It was n«t yet eight o'clock when she descended to the
breakfast-room, but Mr. Palma was already there, and stood at
the window, with an open newspaper, which he appeared to
scan very intently.

In answer to her subdued " good morning," he merely bowed,
without turning his head, and she rang the bell and took her
place at the table.

While she scalded and wiped the cups (one of his require-
ments), he walked to the hearth, glanced at his watch, and
said:

" Let me have my coffee at once. I have an early engage-
ment. As it threatens snow, you must keep indoors to-day."

"I am obliged to attend the Cantata rehearsal at Mrs.
Brompton's."

"Then I will order the carriage placed at your disposal.
What hour ? "

" One o'clock 1 "

Upon her plate lay a sealed envelope, and as she put H in
her pocket, his keen eyes searched her countenance.

" Did you sleep well ? I should judge you had pot closed
your eyes."

.tijUmmU'tll^t.trJm

! \

806

INFXLICB.

** I wrote a long letter to mother, and afterward I could not
sleep."

" You look as if you had grown five years older, since you
gave me my coffee yesterday. When the rehearsal ends, I wish
you to come directly home and go to sleep, for there will be
company here to-day, and it mieht be rather unflattering to me
as guardian to present my ward to strangers and imagine their
comments on your wearyj hollow eyes, and face as blanched, as
* pale as Seneca's Paulina.' "

CHAPTER XXIIL

arrived.

lOTWITHSTANDING the snow which fell steadily at
one o'clock, all who were to take part in the " Gan-
tata," assembled punctually at Mrs. Brompton's, and
as Bftgina hurried down to the carriage, she found that
Mrs. Carew, her little daughter, and maid had just
Avoiding a presentation, she proceeded at once to the
" Rehearsal," and dismissed the carriage, assuring Farley that
it was wrong to keep the horses out in such inclement weather ;
and as she was provided wit^ " waterproof," overshoes and
umbrella, would walk home.

The musical exercises were unusually tedious, the choruses
were halting uid uneven, and the repetitions seemed endless*
The day dar^ned, and the great brouze chandeliers were
lighted, and still Professor Hurtzel mercilessly flourished his
V)Aton and required new trials ; until at lengUi feverishly im-
patient, Regina, having satisfactorily rendered her soloSf re-
quested and received permission to retire.

It was almost four o'clock, the hour designated for her meet-
ing, when she enveloped hertielf In her waterproof cloak, drew
the hood over her hat, and almost ran for several squares from
Mi-s. Brompton's, toward a line of street cars which would con-
vey her to the vicinity of the Park. She succeeded in meeting
an upward-bound car, entered, and bi'eathed more freely.

It was quite crowded, and forced to stand up, Regina steadied
herself by one of the leathern straps suspended from the roof.

a-
td

Bit

>
d

•e

INFELICB.

307

At her vide was an elderly gentleman with very white hair, eye-
brows, and moustache, who was muf9ed in a heavy overcoat,
and leaned upon a gold-headed cane. Soon after, another pas-
senger pre&sed in, elbowed his way forwai'd, and touching the
0I4 gentleman exclaimed :

" Col. Tichnor — in America ! And above all in a street car t
When did you arrive 1 "

'' Last week. These cars are too democratic for men with
gouty feet; but I dislike io bring my horses out in such weather.
Not more than a dozen people have stood on my toes, during
the last fifteen minutes. R^gold, how is Palmal Prosperous
as ever % "'

"If you had been at Mrs. Tarrant's last night, you would not
need to inquire. Positively we younger men have no showing
when he deigns to enter the beaux list. He is striding upward
in his profession, and you |cnow there is no limit to his ambition.
Hitherto he has cautiously steered clear of politics, but it is
rumoured that a certain caucus will probably tender him the
nomination for "

Here a child close to Regina cried out so sharply, that she
could not hear several sentences ; and when quiet was restored,
the young gentleman was saying :

"Very true — there is no accounting for taste. It does t^^.^jc
queer that after living a bachelor so long, he should at lust
surrender to a widow. But, my dear Sir, she is a perfect Orrce,
and I suspect those immense estates in Cuba and Jamaica
are quite as potential with Palma, as her other undeniable
charms. Last night as he promenaded with her, it was con-
ceded that they were the handsomest couple in the room ; and
Mrs. Grundy has patted them on the head, and bestowed the
approved, 'Heaven bless you, my children.' Palma is the
proudest man in "

" Here is my street. Good-day, Ringold."

The elderly gentleman left the car, and after awhile the young
man also departed ; but there seemed no diminution of the
crowd, and as the track was heavy with drifting snow, the horses
moved slowly. At last they reached a point where the line of
road turned away from the direction in which Eegina desired to
go, and quitting the car, she walked down East Street.

After, the heated atmosphere she had just felt, the sharp
biting cold was refreshing, and against the glistening needles of
snow she pressed rapidly on, until finally the trees in the Square
gladdened her eyes.

SOS

INFEUOE,

Near one of tbe corners, stood a large close carriage, whose
driver was enveloped in a cloak, and protected by an umbrella,
while the yellow silk inside curtains were drawn down over the
windows. •

Agitated by contending emotions of reluctance to meeting
the man whose presence was so painful, — and of dread lest he
had grown impatient, and might present himself to her guar-
dian, Regina hastened into the Square, and looked eagerly
about the deserted walks.

Pressed against the south side of a leafless tree whost trunk
partly shielded him from the driving suo^ laden northeast
wind, Peleg Peterson stood watbhin^ her— and as tihe ap-
proached, he came forward.

** Better late than never. How long dia you expect me to
wait here, with the cold eating into my vitals 1 "

" Indeed I am very sorry, out I '^onld not come a moment
sooner.''

" Who is in that carriage yonder ? "

" I do not know. How should I ? "

" There is something suspicious about it. Is it waiting for
youl"

" Certainly not. No human being knows where I am at this
moment. Here are forty-five dollars, — every cent that 1 pos-
sess. You must not expect me to aid you in futurt, for I shall
not be able ; and moreover I shall be subjected to tiMppiVion if
I come here again."

She handed him the money rolled up in a small package,
and he deposited it in his pocket.

" You might at least have made it a hundred."

" I have no more money."

" Do you still doubt that you are my child 1 "

"When you make your claim in a court of justice, as you
yesterday threatened, the proofs must be established. Until
then, I shall not discuss it with you. I have an abiding faith
in the instincts of nature, and I believe that when I stand be-
fore my father, my heart will unmistakably proclaim it. From
you, it shrinks with dread and horror."

"Because Minnie taught you to hate me. I knew she
would."

" Mother never mentioned your name to me. Only to Han-
nah am I indebted for any knowledge of you. Where is Han-
nah i^owV'

INFEUOM.

S09

" I don't know. We quarrelled not long ago. Reg^na I
want your photograph. I want to wear my daughter's piotiure
over my heart."

He moved closer to her, and put out his arm, but she sprang
back.

-You must not touch me, — at least not now; not until I
can hear from mother. I have no photographs of my<«elf. The
only picture taken for years, is a portrait wnich Mr. Palma had
painted, and sent to mother. In any emergency that may oo-
cur, — if you should be really ill, or in actual suffering and want,
write to me, and address your letter according to the directions
on this slip of paper. Mrs. Mason will always see that your
note reaches me safely. You look very cold> and I must
hasten back, or my absence might cause questions and censure.
I shall find out everything from mother, for she will not de-
ceive me ; and if, — if what you say is true, — then I shall know
what is my luty, — and you must believe that I shall perform it.
I pray to God thai you may not be my father, and I cannot
believe that you are, — but if after all, you prove your claim, I
will do what is right. I will take your hand then, — and face
the world's contempt ; — and we will bear our disgrace together,
— as >Hst we may. When I know you are my father, I will
pay you all that a child owes a parent. This, I promise you."
^ Her face was well-nigh as white as the snow that covered
and fringed her hood ; and out of its pallid beauty, the sad
eyes looked steadfastly into the bloated visage before her.

" I believe you I There spoke my girl ! You are true steel,
and worth a hundred of Minnie. Some day, my pretty child,
you and I shall know one another as father and daughter
should."

He once more attempted to touch her, but vigilant and agiln,
she eluded his hand, and said decisively :

" You have all that I can give you now — the money. Don't
put your hand on me, for as yet, I deny your parental claim.
When I know I am your child, you shall find me obedient in
all things. Now Sir, — good-by."

Turning, she ran swiftly away, and glanced over her shoulder
fearful of pursuit, but the figure stood where she had left him ;
was occupied in counting the money — and breathing more
freely, Regina shook the snow from her wrappings, from her
umbrella, and walked homeward.

Had she purchased a sufficient reprieve to keep him quiet,

310

INFEUOK.

until she could hear from her motlier, and receive the expected
summons to join her 1 Or was this but an illusive relief, a
mere momentary lull in the tempest of humiliation that was
muttering and darkening around her 9

She hM walked only a short distance from the square, and
was turning a corner, when she ran against a gentleman hur^
rying from the opposite direction.

"Pray pardon me, Miss."

She could not suppress the cry that broke from her lips.

"OhMr. Palmal'^

He turned, as though he had not until now recognised her,
but there was no surprise in his stern fixed face.

" I thought Mrs. Brompton resided on West Street ;

had not heard of her change of residence. From the length
of your rehearsal you certainly should be perfect in your
performance. It is now half-past five, and I think you told
me you commenced at onel Bather disagreeable weather
for you to be out Wait here, under this awning, till I come
back."

He was absent not more than five minutes, and returned
with a close carriage ; but a glance sufficed to show her it was
not the one she had seen in the neighbourhood of the square.

As ho opened the door and beckoned her forward, he took
her umbrella, handed her in, and with one keen cold look into
her face, said :

" I trust my ward's dinner toilette will be an improvement
upon her present appearance, as several guests have been in-
vited. The Cantata must have bored you immensely."

He bowed, closed the door, directed the driver to the num.
bar of his residence on Fifth Avenue, and disappeared.

Sinking down in one corner, Ecgiua shut her eyes and
groaned. Gould his presence have been accidental ? She had
given no one a clue to her movements, and how could he have
followed her circuitous route after leaving Mrs. Brompton's ?
He had evinced no surprise, he asked no explanation of her
conduct — but would he abstain in future ? Was his promise
to trust her, the cause of his forbearance ? Or was it attri-
butable to the fact that his thoughts were concentrated upon
that lady, with whose name people were associating his ?

The strain upon her nerves was beginning to relax ; her
head ached, her eyes smarted, and she felt sick and faint.
Like one in a perplexing dream, she was whirled alosg the
streets, and at last reached home.

MHttfeMMM

LUi-^^J-^JU'l

.^...^

INFELIOE.

The house was already brilliantly lighted, for the day had
closed prematurely, with the darkness of the increasing snow,
and in the seclusion of her own room the girl threw herself
down in a rooking chair

Everything seemed dancing in kaloidoscopic confusion, and
amid the chaos only one grim fact was immovablf — she must
dress and go down to dinner. Just now, unwelcome as was
the task, she dared not neglect it, for her absence might stimu-
late the investigation she so much dreaded, and wearily she
rose and began her toilette.

At half-past seven Hattie entered.

" Aren't you ready Miss 1 Mrs. Palma says you mmt hurry
down, for the company are ail in the parlour, and Mr. Palma
has asked for you. Stop a minute — ^Miss. Your sash is all
crooked. There — all ri^ht. Let me tell you, there is more
lace and velvet down-stairs than you can show, and jewellery 1
No end of itl But as for bom good looks, — you can outface
them all."
" Don't 1 look very pale and jaded 1 "
" Very white — Miss ; you always do, — and red cheeks would
be as much out of your style, as paint on a corpse. I can tell
you what you do look like, — more than ever I saw you before ;
— that marble figure with the dove on its finger, which stands
in the front parlour bay window."

It was Mr. Palma's pet piece of sculpture, — a statue of " In-
nocence," originally intended for his library, but Mrs. Paltna
had pleaded for permission to exhibit it down-stairs.

During Regina's residence in New York, scarcely a week
elapsed without her meeting guests at the dinner-table, and the
frequency of the occurrence had quite worn away the awkward
shyness with which she had at first confronted strangers. Yet
to-day she felt nervously timid as she approached the threshold
of the brilliant room, and caught a glimpse of those within.

Two gentlemen stood on the rug, talking with Olga, a third
isat on a sofa engaged in conversation with Mrs. Palma, while
Mrs. St. Clare and her daughter entertained two strangers in
the opposite comer, — and on a Ute-a-iUe drawn conspicuously
forward under the chandelier, were Mr. Palma and Mrs. CJarew.
Begina merely glanced at Olga long enough to observe how
handsome she appeared, in her rose-hued silk, with its rich black
lace garniture, and the spray of crushed pink roses drooping
against hor neck, — then her gaze dwelt upon the woman under
the chandelier.

31S

INFELIOE.

|l! I

Unusually tall, and proportionately developed, her size might
safely have been pronounced heroic^ and would by comparison
have dwarfed a man of less commanding stature than Mr.
Palma ; yet so symmetrical was the outline of face and figure,
that the type seemed well nigh faultless, and she might have
served as a large-limbed rounded model for those majestic
women whom Buonaroti painted for the admiration of all hu-
manity, upon the walls of the Sistine.

The face was oval, with a remarkably low but full brow, a
straight finely-cut nose, very wide between the eyes, which
were large, almond-shaped, and of a singularly radiant gray,
with long curling gold-tinted lashes. Her complexion was of
that peculiar creamy colourlessness, which is found in the
smooth petals of a magnolia, and the lips were outlined in
bright carmine that hinted at chemical combinations, so ripe
and luscious was the tint.

Had she already stepped down from some glorious old Vene-
tian picture, bringing that crown of hair, — of the true " Won-
dina^^ hue, so rarely nowaday, and never seen in perfection save
among the marbles and lagunes of crumbling Venice % Was it
natural, that mass of very pale gold, — so pale that it seemed a
flossy heap of raw silk, — or had she by some subtle stroke of
skill discovered the secret of that beautiful artificial colouring,
which was so successfully practised in the days of Georgione 1
Her dress was velvet, of that light lilac tint which only per-
fect complexions dare approach, — was cut very low and square
in front, and trimmed with a profusion of gossamer white lace.
Diamonds flashed on her neck and arms, and in the centre of
the puffed and crimped hair, a large butterfly of diamonds
scattered light upon the yellow mass.

Mr. Palma was smiling at some low spoken sentence that
rippled like Italian poetry over her full lips, — when his eye de-
tected the figure hovering near the door, and at once he ad-
vanced, and drew her in.

Without taking her hand, his fingers just touched her sleeve,
as walking beside her he said :

" JV^fs. Carew must allow me the pleasure of presenting my
ward Miss Orme, who has most unpardonably detained us from
our soup."

The stranger smiled, and offered her hand.
*• Ah, Miss Ormo ! I shall never pardon you for stealing the
only heart, whose loyalty I claim. My little iikira saw you at

"•.SSSMMSHBaSS

" '""•'^'

INFBLICE.

313

Mrs. Brompton's, heard you sing, and was enchanted with your
eyes — which she assured me were — ' blue as the sky, ma rnh'tf
and like violets with black lace quilled around them.' "

Regina barely touched the ivory hand encrusted with costly
jewels, and Mr. Palma drew her near a sofa, where sat a noble-
looking elderly gentleman, slightly bald, and whose ample
beard and long moustache were snow white, although his eye*
brows were black, and his fine brown eyes sparkled with the
fire and enthusiasm of youth.

" My ward, Miss Orme, has a juvenile reverence for Congress-
men, whom, knowing only historically, she fondly considers
above and beyond the common clay of mankind — regards them
as the worthy successors of the Roman P"*res Comcripiiy and
in the Honourable Mr. Chesley, she is . btless destined to
realize all her romantic ideas relative to American Statesmen.
Eegina, Mr. Chesley represents California in the council of the
nation, and can tell you all about those wonderful canons, of
which you were speaking last week."

The guest took her fingers, shook them cordially, and, look-
ing into his fine face, the girl felt a sudden thrill run through
her frame. What was there in the soft brown eyes, and shape
of the brow that was so familiar — that made her heart beat so
fiercely 1

Mechanically she sat down near him, failing to answer some
trivial question from Mrs. Palma, and bowing in an absent
preoccupied manner to the remainder of the guests.

Fortunately, dinner was announced immediately, and as Mrs.
Pahna moved away on Mr. Chesley' s arm, while Mr. Palma
gave his to Mrs. Carew, Regina felt a cold hand seize hers, and
lead her forward.

" Mr. Roscoe, where did you secrete yourself t I was not
aware that you were in the room."

"Standing near the window, watching you bow to every
one else. Your guardian requested me to hand you in to
dinner."

Something in his voice and manner annoyed her, and, look-
ing up, she said coldly :

" My guardian is very kind ; but I regret that his considera-
tion in providing me an escort, has taxed your courtesy so
severely."

Before he could reply, they had reached the table, and,
glancing at the card attached to the bouquet at each plate,
T

/r!

^0*m»»'

314

INFELIOE.

Regina found her chair had been placed next to Mr. Ghesley's,
while Olga was hex vis-a-vis.

'f If I ask you a question, will you answer it truly % " said
Elliott.

" That depends entirely upon what it may prove. If a
proper one, I shall answer it truly ; otherwise, not at all."

" Was it of your own free will, without advice or bias, that
you refused the interview I asked you to grant me ) "

"It was."

" My cousin influenced you adversely 1 "

"No, Sir."

" He is purely selfish in his course toward "

" At least it is ungrateful and unbecoming in you to accuse
him, and I will not hear you."

She turned her face toward Mr. Chesley, who was carrying
on an animated conversation with Mrs. Palma, and some mo-
ments elapsed before Elliott resumed :

" Regina I must see you alone, sometime this evening."

"Why?"

" To demand an explanation of what I have seen and heard,
otherwise I would not credit."

" I have no explanation to offer on the subject. If you refer
to a conversation which Mr. Palma had with me yesterday, at
your request, let me say, once for all, that I cannot consent to
its revival. Mr. Roscoe, we are good friends now, I hope ; but
we should be such no longer, if you persist in violating my
wishes in this matter."

" What I wish to say to you involves your own safety and
happiness.''

" I am grateful for your kind intentions, but they result from
uu erroneous impression. My individual welfare is bound
up with those whom you know not, and at all events I prefer
not to discuss it."

" You refuse me the prh-ilege of a confidential talk with
you?"

" Yes, Mr. Koscoe. Now be pleasant, and let us converse
on some more agreeable topic. Did you ever meet Mrs. Ca-
rew until to-day." '

He was too angry to reply immediately ; but after a little
while mastered hk indigoation.

" I have the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Carew quite well."
She is remarkably beautiful."

JNFSLJCE.

315

" Oh, unquestionably ! And she knows it better than any
other article in her creed. New York is spoiling her dread-
fully."

He turned and addressed some remarks to Miss St. Clare,
who sat on his right, and Regina rejoiced in the opportunity
afforded her of becoming a quiet observer and listener. She
had never seen her guardian so animated, so handsome as now,
while he smiled genially and talked with his lovely guest;
and watching them, Regina recollected the remark concerning
their appearance, which bad been made by the gentleman in the
car.

Was it possible that after all, the lawyer's heart had been
seriously interested? Could thaft satin-cheeked, gray-eyed
Circe, with pale yellow hair and lashes, hold him in silken bonds
at her feet ? The idea that he could be captivated by any
woman seemed utterly incompatible with all that his ward knew
of his life and character, and it had appeared an established
fact that he was incapable of any tender emotion ; but cer-
tainly at this instant, the expression with which he was gazing
down into Mrs. Carew's lotos face was earnestly admiring.
While Regina watched the pair, a cold sensation crept over her,
as on some mild starlit night, one suddenly and unconsciously
drifts under the lee of some vast, slow-sailing ice-berg, and
knows not, dreams not of danger until smitten with the fatal
prophetic chill.

Suppose the ambitious middle-aged man intended to marry
this wealthy, petted,' lovely widow, was it not in all respects a
brilliant suitable match, which le beau monde would cordially ap-
plaud ? Was there a possibility that she would decline an alli-
ance with that proud patrician, whose future seemed dazzling )

In birth, fortane, and beauty could he find her superior ?

The flowers in the tall gold epergne in the centre of the table,
and the wreath of scarlet camelias that swung down to meet
them from the green bronze chandelier, began to daiice a sara-
band. Silver, crystal, china, — even the huuic*u figures appeared
whirling in a misty circle, act* • ;^ which ta i orange, emerald,
and blue tints of the hock glasses shot hither and thither like
witch-lights on the Brocken ; and indistinct and spectral, yet
alluring, gleamed the almond-shaped grey eyes, with theii* gold
fringes.

With a quick unsteady motion, Regina grasped and drained
a goblet of iced water, and after a little while the mist rolled

316

INFSLIOM

awaj, and she heard once more the voices that had never for
an instant ceased their utterances.

The shuttlecock of conversation was -well kept up, from all
sides of the table, and whe^ Begina's thoughts crept back from
their numbing reverie, Mr. Chesley was eloquently describing
some of the most picturesque localities in Oregon and CaU-
fomia.

Across the table floated a liquid response.
" I saw in Philadelphia a large painting of that particular
spot, and though not remarkably well done, it enables one to
form an approximate idea of the grandeur of the scenery."
Mr. Chesley bowed to Mrs. Carew, and answered :
" I met the artist, while •upon his sketching tour, and was
deeply interested in his success. At one time, 1 hoped he
would cast matrimonial anchor in San Francisco, and remain
among us, but his fickle fair one deserted him for a young naval
officer, and after her marriage, California possessed few charms
for him. I pity poor Eggleston most cordially."

"Then permit me to assure you, that you are needlessly
expending your sympathy, for I bear witness to the fact that his
wounds have cicatrized. A fair Philadelphian has touched
them with her fairy finger, — and at present he bows at another
shrine."

Shivering with sympathy for Olga, Begina could not refrain
from looking at her, vrhile Mrs. Carew spoke, and marvelled at
the calm deference, the smiling insouciance with which her hazel
eyes rested on the speaker. Then they wabdered as if acciden-
tally to the countenance of Mr. Palma, and a lambent flame
seemed to kindle in their brown depths.

*' Mr. Eggleston has talent, and I am surprised that lie has
not been more suoceBsful," replied the Congressman.

Mr. Palma was pressing Mrs. St. Clare to take more wine,
and appeared deaf to the conversation, but Mrs. Carew's flute-
Uke voice responded :

" Yes, a certain order of talent for mere landscape painting ;
but he should never attempt a higher or different style. He
made a wretched copy of the Crucifixion, for a wealthy retired
tailor, who boasts of his investments in * virtue and bigotry,'
— and I fear I gave mortal offence by venturing to say to the
owner, that it reminded me of the criticism of Luis de Vargas
on a similar failure : ' Methinks he is saying, Forgive them
Lord, for tiiey know not what they do.' "

■ f

INFELIOE.

317

or
m

le
al

is
d
jp

in
It

lA
>8

"Apropos! of pictnires. Mrs. Carew I must arrange to
have you see a superb new painting recently hung upon the
waU at the < Century/' and ask your opinion of its merit "

Eegina did not catch the remainder of her guardian's sen-
tence, which she felt assured was intended to (tivert the con-
versation and shield Olga, — for just then, Mr. Chesley asked
to fill her glass, and the talk drifted away to less dangerous
topics.

Irresistibly attracted by some subtle charm in his manner,
she found herself drawn into a pleasant dialogue with him,
relative to some startling incidents which he narrated of the
early miners in the far West. Watching his face, she puzzled
her brain with the solution of the singular familiarity it
possessed. She had never met him until to-day, and yet her
heart warmed toward hiin more and more.

At length she ventured the question :

" Did you leave your family in California t "

" Unfortunately I have no family, and no relatives. My
dear young lady is it not melancholy to find a confirmed old
bacheloi*, verging fast upon decrepitude — with no one to look
after, or care for him ? When I was a good-looking young
beau, and should have been hunting me a bonny blue-eyed
bride, I was digging gold from the rocky ribs of mountains in
Western solitudes. When I made my fortune, I discovered too
late ^jhat I had given my youth in exchange."

^' I should think. Sir, that you might still marry, and be very
happy."

His low pleasant laugh did not embarrass her, and he
answered :

"You are very kind to kindle that beacon of encourage-
ment, but I fear your charitable sympathy clouds your judg-
ment. Do you imagine any fair' young girl could brave my
grey hair and wrinkles 1 "

" A young girl would not suit you, Sir ; but there must be
noble middle-aged ladies whom you could admire, and trust,
and love % "

He bent his white head, and whispered :

" Such for instance as Mrs. Carew, who converts all places
into Ogygia 1 "

Without lifting her eyes, she merely shook her head, and he
continued :

" Miss Oi-me^ all men have their roseleaf romance. Mine

Ml (t A i Ml i * amiy°»""

318

INFEHOE.

expanded very early, but fate crumpled, — crushed it into a
shapeless ruin,— -and leaving the wreck behind me, I went to
the wilds of California. Since then, I have missed tlie human-
izing influence of home ties, of feminine association ; but as I
look down the hill, where the sun of my life is casting long
shadows, I sometimes feel that it would be a great blessing,
had I a sister, cousin, niece, or even an adopted daughter,
whom I could love and lean upon in my lonely old age. Once
I seriously entertained the thought of selecting an orphan from
some Asylum, and adopting her into my heart and home.''

" When you do, I sincerely hope she will prove all that you
wish, and faithfully requite your goodness."

She spoke so earnestly that he smiled, and added :

"Can you recommend one to me? I envy Palma his
guardianship, and if I should find a young girl like you I should
not hesitate to solicit " •

« Pardon me, Mr. Ohesley, but Mr. Palma is endeavouring

to attract your notice," said Mrs. Palma.

The host held in his hand an envelope.

" A telegram for you. Shall I direct the bearer to wait ?"

*' With your permission, I will examine it."

Having glanced at the lines, he turned the sheet of paper
over, and with a pencil wrote a few words ; then handed it to
Terry, requesting him to direct the bearer to have the answer
promptly telegraphed.

** Nothing unpleasant, I trust ?" said Mr. Palma.

" Thank you — no. Only a summons which obliges me to
curtail my visit, and ""etum to Washington by the midnight
train."

Interpreting a look from her stepson, Mrs. Palma hastened
the slow course of the dinner, by a whisper to the waiter
behind her chair ; and as she asked some questions relative
to mutual friends residing in Washington, Begina had no
opportunity of renewing the conversation.

Mr. Boscoe was assiduous in his attentions to Miss St. Clare
and Begina looked over at Olga, who was talking very learn-
edly to a small gentleman, a prominent and erudite scientist,
whose knitted eyebrows now and then indicated dissatisfaction
with her careless manner of handling his pet theories.

Her cheeks glowed, her eyes sparkled, and a teasing smile

- r

9 |9

INFELICE.

S19

■r

sat upon her lips, as she recklessly rolled her irreverent ball
among his technical ten pins : and repeated defiantly :

"Js old Religion bat a ■peotre now,
Hiranting the solitude of darkened minds,
Mocked out of memory by the sceptic day f
Is there no comer safe from peeping Doubt ? "

" But Miss Neville, I must be allowed to say that you do not
in the least grasp the vastness of this wondeif ul law of ' Natu-
ral Selection,'^ of the ' Survival of the Fittest,' which is omni-
potent in its influence."

" Ah ! but my reverence for Civilization cries out against
your savage enactments. Look at the bulwarks of defence
which Asylums and Hospitals lift against the operation of your
merciless decree. The maimed, the feeble, the demented, be-
come the wards of religion and charity ; the Unfittest of human-
ity are carefully preserved, and the race is retarded in its 4«ve-
lopment. Civilized legislation and philanthropy are directly
opposed to your ' Survival of the Fittest,' and since I am not a
tatooed Princess of the South Pacific, allowed to regale myself
with croquettes of human brains, or a ragoUt of baby's ears and
hands, well flavoured with wine and lemon, I accept civiliza-
tion. I believe China is the best place for the successful
testing of your theory, for there, the unfittest have for centu-
ries been destroyed ; yet T have not heard that the superior —
the ' Coming Race ' — has appeared among the tea farms ) "

Elevating his voice the small gentleman appealed to his
host.

" I thought Mr. Palma too zealous a disciple of Modem
Science, to permit Miss N ville to indulge such flagrant here-
sies. She has absolutely denied that the mental development
of a horse, a dog, or ape is strictly analogous to that of
man "

" Quote me correctly, I pray you doctor — to that of women
— if you please," interrupted Olga. »

" She believes that it is not a difference of degree (which
we know to be the case), but of kind ; not comparative, but
structural — you understand. How can you tolerate such schism
in your household ? Moreover she scouts the great Spencerian
organon."

" Olga is too astute not to discover the discrepancy between
the theory of Scientists, and the usages of civilized society ,

320

INFMLIOE.

■ !

whose sanitary provisions thwart and neutralise your law m its
operations upon the human race. * Those whom it saves from
dying prematurely, it preserves to propagate dismal and imper-
fect lives. In our complicated modem communities, a race is
being run between moral and mental enlightenment, and the
deterioration of the physical and moral constitution through
the defeasance of the law of Natural Selection.' "

Lifting her champagne glass, Olga sipped the amber bub-
bles from its brim, and slightly bent her head in acknowledg-
ment.

" Thanks. I disclaim any doubt of the accuracy of his pedi-
gree from the monad, — through the ape, — up to the present
erudite philosopher ; but I humbly crave permission to assert
a far different lineage for myself. Fray Doctor, train your bat-
tery now upon Mr. ralma, and since he assails you with Greg,
mwits quotation marks, require him to avow his real sentiments
concerning that sentence in 'De Profundis.' 'That purely
political conception of religion which regards the Ten Com-
mandments as a sort of " cheap defence " of property and life.
God Almighty as an ubiquitous and unpaid Policeman, and
Hell as a self-supporting jail, a penal settlement at the Anti-
podes!'"

Prudent Mrs. Palma rose at that moment, and the party left
the dining-room.

Mrs. St. Glare called Hegina to her sofa, to make some in-
quiries about the Cantata, and when the latter was released,
she saw that both Mr. Chesley and Mr. Palma were absent

A half hour elapsed, during which Olga continued to annoy
the learned small man with her irreverent flippancy, and Mrs.
Carew seemed to fascinate the two gentlemen who hovered
about her, like eager moths around a lamp. Then the host
and Congressman came in together, and Regina saw her guar-
dian cross the room, and murmur something to his fair client,
who smilingly assented.

Mr. Chesley looked at ^e widow, and at Olga, and his eyes
came back, and dwelt upon the young girl who stood leaning
against Mrs. Palma's chair. \

Her dress was a pearl white alpaca, with no trimming, save
tulle ruchings at throat and wrists, — and a few violets fastened
in the cameo Psyche that constituted her brooch.

Pure, pale, almost saa, she looked in that brilliant drawing-
room like some fragile snow-drop, astray in a bed of gorgeous
peonies and poppies. \

INFEUCE.

321

Lifting her eyes to her host, as he leaned over t back o)
her sofa, Mrs. Carew said :

"Miss Orme poses almost faultlessly; she has evidently
studied all the rules of the art. Quite pretty too ; and her
hair has a peculiar gloss, that reminds one of the pounded
peach>stones with which Van Dyck glazed his pictures."

The fingers of the hand that hung at his side, clenched sud-
denly, but adjusting his glasses more firmly, he said very
quietly :

** My ward is not quite herself this evening, and is really
too unwell to be down stairs ; but appeared at dinner in honour
of your presence, and in deference to my wishes. Shall I ring
for your wrappings 1 The carriage is waiting."

*< When I have kissed my cherub good-night, I shall be
ready."

He gave her his arm, to the foot of the stairs, and returning,
announced his regret that Mrs. Carew was pledged to show
herself at a party, to which he had promised to escort her*
Whereupon the other ladies remembered that they also had
promised to be present.

Mr. Chesley standing at some distance, had been very atten-
tively studying Begina's face, and now approaching her, took
her hand with a certain tender courtesy, that touched her
strangely.

*' My dear Miss Orme, I think we are destined to become
firm fast friends, and were I not compelled to hurry back to
Washington to oppose a certain bill, I should endeavour to im-
prove our acquaintance. Before long I shall see you again,
and meanwhile you must help me to find an adopted daughter
as much like yourself as possible, — or I shall be tempted to
steal you from Palma. Good-by. God bless you."

His earnest tone and warm pressure of her fingers, thrilled
her heart, and she thought his mild brown eyes held tears.

" Good-bye — Sir. I hope we shall meet again."

" You may be sure we shall."

He leaned down, and as he looked at her, she saw his mouth
tremble.

A wild conjecture flashed across her brain, and her hand
clutched his spasmodically, while her heart seemed to stand
still. Was Mr. Chesley her father %

Before she could collect her thoughts, he turned away and
left the room, accompanied by Mr. Palma, who during the even-
ing had not once glanced toward her.

822

INFELIOM.

CHAPTER XXIV.

|BS. CAREW had arrived on Tuesday morning, and
announced that a previous engagement would limit
her visit to Saturday, at which time she had promised
to become the guest of a friend on Murray Hill.
During Wednesday and Thursday, the house was
thronged with visitors. There was company to dinner and to
luncheon, and every imaginable tribute paid to the taste and
vanity of the beautiful woman, who accepted the incense
ofifered, as flowers the dew of heaven, and stars the light thet
constitutes their glory. Accustomed from her cradle to aduJfN-
tion and indulgence, she had a pretty, yet imperious manner
of exacting it from all who ventured within her circle ; and
could not forgive the cool indifference which generally charac-
terized Olga's behaviour.

Too well-bred to be guilty of rudeness, tb^ latter contrived
in a very adroit way to defy every proposition advanced by the
fair guest, and while she never transcended the bounds of
courtesy, she piqued and harassed and puzzled I'Oi only Mrs.
Carew, but Mr. Palma.

At ten o'clock on Thursday night, when the guests invited to
dinner had departed, and the family circle had collected in the
sitting-room to await the carriage, which would convey the
ladies to a Wedding Reception, — Mrs. Carew came down stairs
magnificently attired in a delicate green satin, covered with an
over dress of exquisite white lace, and adorned with a profusion
of emeralds and pearls.

Her hair was arranged in a unique style (which Olga denom-
inated " Isis fashion") and above her forehead rested a jewelled
lotos, the petals of large pearls, the leaves of emeralds.

As she stood before the grate, with the white lace shawl dip-
ping from her shoulders, and exposing the bare gleaming bust,
Olga exclaimed :

" Queen of the Nile ! What Antony awaits your smiles 1 "

As if aware that she were scrutinized, the gray eyes sank to
the carpet, then met Olga's.

" Miss Neville is not the only person who has found in me a
resemblance to the Egyptian Sorceress. When I return to Italy,

{

INFELIOE.

Stoiy shall immortalize me in in connection with his own im-
pAssioned poem. Let me see, how does it begin :

' Here ChanniMi, toke my bnoelets.'"

She passed her hand across her low white brow, and glancing
fortivelj at Mr. Palma, she daringly repeated the strongest
passages of the poem, while her flute-like tones seemed to
gather additional witchery.

Sitting in one corner, with an open book in her hand, Regina
looked at her and listened, fascinated by her singular beauty,
but astonished at the emphasis with which she recited imagery
that tinged the girl's cheek with red.

** If there be a * cockatoo ' in Gotham, doubtless you will own
it to-morrow. But forgive me, oh Cleopatra ! if I venture the
heresy that Story's poem, gorgeous though I grant it, — leaves a
bad taste in one's mouth, like richly spiced wine, hot and sweet
and deliciously intoxicating; but beware of to-morrow! Some-
times the poison of asps is not confined to fig-baskets ; and
with your permission, I should like to offer you an infallible an-
tidote, Seraph of the Nile."

Mrs. Carew smiled defiantly, and inclined her head, inter-
preting the lurking challenge in Olga's fiery hazel eyes.

Leaning a little forward to note the effect, the latter began
and recited with much skill the entire words of " Maud Mul-
ler." Whenever the name of the Judge was pronounced, she
looked at Mr. Palma, and there was peculiar emphasis in her
rendition of the lines :

*' But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in Court an old love tune.

He wedded a wife of richest dower,
Who lived for fashion as he for power."

How had Olga discovered the secret, which he believed so
securely locked in his own heart ? Not a muscle moved in his
cold guarded face, but a faint flush stole across his cheek, as he
met her sparkling gaze.

Mrs. Carew's rosy lip curled scornfully.

" My dear Miss Neville, should you ever be smitten by the
blasts of adversity, your charming recitative talent would prove
wonderfully remunerative upon the stage."

)2i

NFMLWm

" Thauks ! bat my observation leads me to believe that at
the present day, the profession of the Sycophants pays the
heaviest dividends. Does Cleopatra's fondness for figs enable
her to appreciate my worldly wisdom 1 '*

Regina knew that Olga meant mischief to both host and
guest, and though she did not comprehend the drift of her
laughing words, she noticed the sudden smile that flashed over
her guardian's countenance, and the perplexed expression of
Mrs. Carew's eyes.

" Miss Neville has as usual floundered into her favourite blue
mire, whose stale scraps of learning cannot tempt me to pur-
suit"

" Not into the mud of the Nile, oh celestial Isis ! but into
the classic lore of Hellas. Ask Mr. Palma why I am opposed
to smuggling figs — especially rose-coloured figs."

Olga's li^t laugh was particularly irritating and disagree-
able at that moment, and her mother, who was a ubiquitous flag
of truce on such occasions, hastened to interpose.

" My daughter, what possible connection can Mrs. Garew or
anybody else find between the habit of sycophancy, and bas-
kets of figs ) "

" Dear Mamma, to explain it to you might be construed in-
to an unfilial and irreverent reflection upon the insufficiency of
your education, and of that admission, nothing could induce
me to be guilty. But Regina yonder is still in the clutches of
Dominie Sampson, and as she is such an innocent stupid young
dove, I will have mercy upon her curiously questioning eyes.
My dear rustic ' Maud,' Sycophants means fig-blahhers ; and
when you are patient enough to study, and wise enough to
appreciate Plutarch, you will learn the derivation of the title,
which justly belongs to multitudes of people."

Making as near an approach to a grimace, as the lines of
grace (which she never violated) would permit, Mrs. Carew
lifted one shoulder almost out of its satin fetters, and turned
to her host.

'* Miss Neville should have reigned at the Hotel de Ram-
bouillet, when pricUuu was more ho;:oared than now. I fear
if society suspected the vastness of her learning, it would create
a panic wherever she goes."

Olga was leaving the room, had almost reach*^d the door but
at the last words turned, and her face sparkled mischievously.

*' Beautiful Egypt is acquainted with sphinxes, and should

INFMLIOE.

326

of
led

)Ut

lid

be quick at guessing riddles. Will Cleopatra or Anthony
answer my conundrum ? When my erudition creates a panic,
why am I like those who dw It about Ohemmis, when the tragi-
cal fate of Ouiris was accomplished 1 "

Mr. Palm a answered promptly :

" Beoausu the Pans who inhibited that region were the first
who learned of the disaster, and as they spread the fatal news
among the people, all sudden public frights and shocks have
been ever since called panics. The carriage is ready. We
shall be late at the wedding. Olga, where is your shawl 1 "

As they quitted the room together, he added in an under-
tone :

" Your Parthian warfare would have justified me in return-
ing your arrow, but I was never an expert in the use of small

>»

arms.

With her hand upon the balustrade of the stairs, which she
was ascending, Olga looked down on him, and her eyes blazed
with an intensity of scorn and defiance.

" To your empty quiver, not your leniency, I am indebted
for my safety. Your arrows were all skilfully barbed, and even
the venom of asps distilled upon them ; — but you have done

J^our worst, — and failf L Parthian tactics ill suit my temper
et me tell you, and just now I should infinitely prefer the
Scythian style. Were I only for one brief hour Tomyris —
I would carry your head, Sir, — where she held that of Gyrus, —
in a bitg."

Ue walked on to the front door, and those in the sitting-
room heard Olga run up the steps, singing with gusto that strain
from Fra Diavolo, — ending : " Diavolo ! Diavolo ! "

The " Cantata of Undine" had been composed by a gifted
and fashionable ama^«w, and was performed by young people
who belonged to U beau monde, consequently at an early hour
on Friday evening, the house was crowded to witness the ap-
pearance of a constellation of amateu/rs^ among whom Hegina
shone resplendent. When after the opening chorus, she came first
upon the stage, and stood watching the baton of the leader, a
hum of admiration rose from the audience.

The costume was of some p.ilvery gauze that hung like mist
around her slender figure, und was encrusted here and there
with the fragile white water-lilies that matched the spray which
twined across her head, and strayed down among the unbound
hair now floating free, far below her waist.

326

INFELICE.

Very pale but calm, she began her solo, at first a little tremu-
lously, but by degrees the rich voice gained its strength,
asserted its spell, and nobly fulfilled the promise of Professor
Hurtzsel, that New York should hear that night its finest con-
tralto.

Startled by the burst of applause that succeeded her song,
she looked for the first time at the audience, and saw her guar-
dian's tall conspicuous figure leaning against a column, near
the spot where Mrs. Carew sat.

Very grave, coldly critical, and quite preoccupied he cer-
tainly looked, and none would have dreamed that the slight
motion of his mute lips, meant " M v Lily."

Twice she sang alone, and finally iii a duo which admirably
displayed the compass and timbre of her very peculiar voice,
and the floral hurricane that assailed her, atte&ted her com-
plete triumph.

The unaffected simplicity of her bearing, as contrasted with
the aplomb and artificial manner of the other young ladies who
were performers, — the angelic purity and delicacy of the sweet
girlish face, with a lingering trace of sadness in the superb
eyes, which only deepened their velvet violet, — excited the
earnest interest of all present, and many curious inquiries ran
through the audience.

At the close of the Cantata, Mrs. Falma drew Regina away
from the strangers who pressed forward to offer their congratu-
lations, and throwing a fur cloak around her, kissed her cheek.

It was the first caress the stately woman had ever bestowed,
and as the girl looked up, — ^gratified and astonished, the former
said:

" You sang delightfully my dear, and we are more than satis-
fied, quite proud. Your voice was as even and smooth as a
piece of cream-coloured Persian satin. No, Mrs. Brompton,
not to-night. Pardon me Professor, but I must hurry her
away, for Mrs. Carew and I have an engagement at Mrs.
Quimbey's. I shall be obliged to take our ' Undine ' home, and
then return for my fair friend, — who is, as usual, surrounded,
and inextricable just now."

While she spoke, Regina's eyes wandered across the mass
of heads, and rested on the commanding form of her guardian
standing among a group of gentlemen collected around Mrs.
Carew, who clad in white moire antique^ with a complete over
dress of finest black lace, looped with diamond sp^'ays, seemed
more than usually regal and brilliant.

INFELIOE.

827

3d,

las
Lan
[rs.
ler
led

Mrs. Palma hurried Regina through a side entrance, and
down to the carriage, and ere long, having seen her enter the
hall at home, bade her good-night, and drove back for Mrs.
Carew and Mr. Palma.

It was only a little after ten o'clock, and Regina went up to
the library, her favourite haunt. She had converted the over-
skirt of her dress into an apron, — now filled with bouquets from
among the number showered upon her ; and selecting one
composed of pelargoniums and heliotropes, — she placed it in
the vase beneath her mother's picture, and laid the remainder
in a circle around it.

" Ah mother ! they praised your child ; but your voice was
missing. Would you too have been proud of m6 ? Oh ! if I
could feel your lips on mine, — and hear you whisper once
more, — as of old, — ' My baby ! my precious baby ! ' "

Gazing at the portrait, she spoke with a passionate fervour
very unusual in her composed reserved nature; and unshed
tears gathered, and glorified her eyes. .

The house was silent and deserted, save by the servants, by
Mrs. Garew's child and nurse, and throwing off her cloak,
Kegina remained standing in front of the portrait, while her
thoughts wandered into gray dreary wastes.

Since the day of Mrs. Carew's arrival she had not exchanged
a syllable with her guardian, nor had she for an instant seen
him alone, for the early breakfasts had been discontinued, and
in honour of his guest and client, Mr. Palma took his with the
assembled family.

There was in his deportment toward his ward, nothing
harsh, nothing that could have indicated displeasure ; but he
seemed to have entirely forgotten her, from the moment when
he presented her to Mr. Chesley.

He never even accidentally glanced at her, and patiently
watching his immobile cold face, sparkling only with intelli-
gence, as he endeavoured to eiitertain his exacting and imperi-
ous guest, Regina began to realize the vast distance that
divided her from him.

His haughty Brahminic pride seemed to lift him into some
lofty plane, so far beyond the level of Peleg Peterson, — that in
contrasting them, the girl groaned and grew sick at heart. She
' feib that she stood upon a mine already charged, and that at
auy moment that wretched niun who hv Id the fatal fuse in his
uiutal hand, might hurl her and all her hopes into irremediable

328

JNFELICE.

chaos and ruin. If the fastidious and aristocratic people who
had kindly applauded her singing, a little while ago, could have
imagined the dense cloud of social humiliation that threatened
to burst upon her, would she have even been tolerated in that
assemblage % Ignorance of her parentage was her sole passport
into really good society, and the prestige of her guardian's
noble name an ermine mantle of protection, which might be
rudely torn away.

During the last three days, left to the companionship of her
own sad thoughts, and unable to see Olga alone for even a
moment, more than one painful and unutterably bitter dis-
covery had been made. She felt that indeed her childhood
had flown forever, that the sacred mysterious chrism of woman-
hood had been poured upon her young heart.

Until forced to observe the marked admiration which, in his
own house, Mr. Palma evinced when conversing with Mrs.
Carew, Eegina had been conscious only of a profound respect
for him, of a deeply grateful appreciation of his protecting -
care ; and even when he interrogorated her with reference to
her affection for Mr. Lindsay, she had truthfully asserted her
conviction that her heart was wholly disengaged.

But sternly honest in dealing with her own soul, subsequent
events had painfully shocked her into a realization of the feel-
ing that first manifested itself as she watched Mr. Palma and
Mrs. Carew at the dinner table.

She knew now, that the keen pang she suffered that day,
could mean nothing less solemn and distressing than the morti-
fying fact that she was beginning to love her guardian. Not
merely as a grateful, respectful ward, the august lawyer who
represented her mother's authority, — but as a woman once,
and once only in life, — loves the m;\n, whom her pure, tender
heart humbly acknowledges as her king, her high-priest, — her
one divinity in clay.

Although conscience acquitted her of any intentional weak-
ness, her womanly pride and delicacy bled at every pore, when
she arraigned herself for being guilty of this emotion toward
one, who regarded her as a child, who merely pitied her forlorn
isolation ; and whose eyes would fill with fiery scorn, could he
dream of her presumptuous, her unfeminine folly.

Despite the chronic sneers with which Olga always referred
to his character and habitual conduct, Eegina could not with-
hold a reverence for his opinion, and an earnest admiration ot
his grave, dignified, yet polished department in hik bonsohold.

li -i

tNFELICE.

320

By degrees, her early dread and repulsion had meitea away j
confidence and respect usurped their place ; and gradually he
had grown and heightened in her estimation, — until suddenly
opening her eyes wide, she saw that Erie Palma filled all tho
horizon of her hopes.

During three sleepless nights, she had kept her eyes riveted
upon this unexpected and mournful fact, and while deeply
humiliated by the discovery, she proudly resolved to uproot
and cast out of her heart the alien growth, which she felt could
prove only the upas of her future. Allowing herself absolutely
no hope, no pardon, no q carter, she sternly laid the axe of in-
dignant condemnation ana destruction to the daring off-shoot —
desperately hewing at her very heart-strings.

Mrs. Carew's manner left little doubt that she was leaning
like a ripe peach within his reach, ready at a touch to fall into
his hand ; and though Ttegina felt that this low-browed — sibyl-
eyed woman was vastly his inferior in all save beauty and
wealth, she knew that even his failure to marry the widow
would furnish no justification for the further indulgence of her
own ifoolish and unsought preference.

The dread lest he might suspect it, and despise her, added
intensity to her desire to leave New York, and find safety in
joining her mother 3 for the thought of his cold contempt, his
glittering black-eyes, and curling lips, was unendurable.

Weeks must elapse ere she could receive an answer to her
letter, praying for permission to sail for Europe, and during
this trying interval she determined to guard every word and
glance, — to allow no hint of her great folly to escape.

Peleg Peterson's daughter, — or else "Nobody's Child," —
daring to lift her eyes to the lordly form of Erie Palma.

As this bitter thought taunted and stung her, she uttered a
low cry of anguish and shame.

" What is tho matter? Don't cry ; it will spoil your pretty
eyes."

Regina turned quickly, and saw little Llora Carew standing
near, and arrayed only in her long white night dress, and pink
rosetted slippers.

" Llora, how came you out of bed ? You ought to have
been asleep three hours ago."

" So I was. But I waked up, and felt so lonesome. Mammie
has gone off and left me, and, hunting for somebody, I came

330

INFELICE.

here. Won't you please let me stay awhile % I can't go to
sleep."

" But you will catch cold."

" No, the room is warm, — and I have my slippers. Oh !
what a pretty dress ! And your arms and neck are like snow,
— whiter even than my mamma's. Please do sing something
for me. Your voice is sweeter than my musical box, — and then
I'm going away to-morrow."

She had curled herself like a pet kitten on the rug, and look-
ing down at her soft dusky eyes, and rosy chedcs, Regina
sighed.

" I am so tired — dear. I have no voice left."

'^ If you could sing before all the people at the Cantata, you
might just one song,— for little me."

" Well pet, — I know I ought not to be selfish, and I T^iil try.
Come kiss me. My mother is so far away, and I htive nobody
to love me. Hug me tight."

There was a door leading from Mr. Palma's sleeping room,
to the curtained alcove behind the writing ddsk, and having
quietly entered by that passage soon after Eegina came home,
the master of the house sat on a lounge veiled by damask and
lace curtains, and holding the drapery slightly aside, watched
what passed in the library.

He was ridng to declare his presence, when Llora came-
in, and somewhat vexed at the contretemj^s he awaited the re
suit.

As Kegina knelt on the rug and opened her arms, the pretty
child sprang into them, kissed her cheeks, and assured her re-
peatedly that she loved her very dearly, — that she was the love-
liest girl she ever saw, — especially in that gauze dress. ParticU"
larly fond of children, Eegina toyed with, and caressed her for
some minutes, then rose, and said :

" Now I will sing you a little song to put you to sleep. Sit
here by the hearth, but be sure not to nod and fall into the
fire."

She opened the organ, and although partly beyond the range
of Mr. Palma's vision, he heard every syllable of the sweet
mellow English words of Kiicken'b " Schlummerlied," — with its
soothing refrain :

" Oh, hush thee now, in slumber mildj
While watch I keep, oh sleep my child.V

tNFSLlCS.

331

She sang it with strange pathos, thinking of her own far
distant mother, whom fate had denied the privilege of chanting
lullabys over her lonely blue-eyed child.

Ending, she came back to the hearth, and Llora claeped her
tiny hands, and chirped :

"Oh — so sweet! When you get to heaven, don't you
reckon you will sit in the choir 1 Once more, — oh ! do —
please."

" V/hat a hungry little beggar you are ! Come sit in my
lap, — and I will hum you a dear little tune. Then yom. must
positively scamper away to bed, or your mamma will scold us
both, — and your mammie also."

A tall yellow woman with a white handkerchief wound
turban-style around her head, came stealthily forward, and
said :

'• Miss, give her to me. I went down stairs for a drink of
water, and when I got back, I missed her. Come baby, let me
carry you to bed, or you will have the croup, and the doctors
might cut your throat."

" Wait mammie, till she sings that little tune she promised ;
then I will go."

Kegina sat down in a low cushioned chair, took the little .
girl on her lap, and while the curly head nestled on her shoul-
der, and one arm clasped her neck, she rested her chin upon
the brown hair, and sang in a very sweet, subdued tone, —
that most soothing of all lullaby strains, — ^Wallace's " Cradle
Song."

As she proceeded, the iurbaned head of the nurse kept time,
swaying to and fro in the background, and a sweeter picture
never adorned canvas, than that which Mr. Palma watched in
front of his library fire, — and which photographed itself indeli-
bly upon his memory.

Singer and child occupied very much the same position as the
figures in the Madonna della Sedia, and no more lovely woman
and child ever sat for its painter.

As Mr. Palma's fastidiously cricical eyes rested on the sad
perfocb face of Eegina, with the lon^' black lashes veiling her
eyes, and the bare arms and shoulaers gleaming above the silver
gauze of her drapery, he silently admitted that her beauty
seemed strangely sanctified, and more spiriteulle than ever be-
fore. Contrasting that sweet white figure, over whose delicate
lips floated the dreamy rhythm of the cradle chant, — with the

332

INFELICB.

■

hundreds of handsome, accomplished witty and brilliant women
who thronged the ball-room he had just left, this man of the
world confessed that his proud ambitious heart was hopelessly
in bondage to the fair young singer.

" Sleep my little one, sleep, —
Sleep my pretty one, — sleep."

At that moment he was powerfully tempted to delay no
longer, — to take her to his bosom forever ; and it cost him a
struggle to sit patiently, while every fibre of his strong frame
was thrilling with a depth and fervor of feeling that threatned
to bear away all dictates of discretion. Ah ! what a divine
mdody seemed to ring through all his future, as he leaned
eagerly forward, and listener, to the closing words, softly reit-
erated :

t " Sleep my littlo one, sleep, —

Sleep my pretvy one, — sleep."

Wh<)n she was his wife, how often in the blessed evenings
spent here, in thi:* hallowed room, he promised himself h^ would
make her sing that song. No shadow of doubt that whenever
he chose, he could win her for his owl, clouded the brightness
of the vision, for success in other pursuits had fed his vanity,
until he believed himself invincible; and although he had
studied her character closely, he failed to comprehend fully the
proud obstinacy latent in her quiet nature.

Just then the Chief Justiceship seemed an inferior prize,
in comparison with the possession of that white-browed drl, and
her pure clinging love ; and certainly for a time, Mr. Erie
Palma's towering pride and insatiable ambition were foreotten
in his longing to snatch the one beloved of all his arid life, to
the heart that was throbbing almost beyond even his rigid con-
trol.

For the first time within his recollection, he distrusted his
power of self-restraint, and rising passed quickly into his own
room, — and thence after some moments, out into the hall.
Near the stairs he met the mulatto nurse, carrying Llora in her
arms.

" Does Mrs. Carew permit that child to sit up so late % "

" Oh no Sir ! She has been asleep once ; but Miss Regina
pets her a gooa deal, and had her in the library, singing to
her." ^

mmm

INFBLICB.

333

" Mr Palma shall I kiss yoa good-night ? " asked the pretty
Creole, lifting her curly head from her " Mammie's " shoulder.

" Good-night Llora. Such tender birds should have been in
their nests, long before this. I shall go and scold Miss Orme
for keeping you awake so late."

He merely patted her rosy round cheek, and went to the
library.

Hearing hift nnmistakable step, Regina conjectured that he
had escorted the ladies home, much earlier than they were ac<
customed to return, and longing to avoid the possibility of a
Ute-h-Ute with him, she would gladly have escaped before his
entrance, had it been practicable.

He closed the door, and came forward, and leaning back in
the chair where she still sat, her hands closed tightly over each
other.

" I fear my ward is learning to keep late hours. It is after
eleven o'clock, and you should be dreaming of the cool, bei^l,
aquatic abodes you have been freqnenting as Undine ; for in-
deed you look a very weary naiad.''

Was he pleased with her success, and would he dei^^n to give
her a morsel of commendation 1

A moment after, she knew that he entertained no such pur-
pose, and felt that she ought to rejoice j that it was far best he
should not, — ^for praise from his lips would be dangerously
sweet.

Glancing at the floral tribute laid before her mother's por-
trait, he said :

"You certainly are a faithful devotee at your mother's
shrine, and no wonder poor Roscoe is so desperately savage at
his failui'e to engage a portion of your regard. Did you have .
a satisfactory interview with him on Tuesday last ? I invited
him for that purpose, as he avowed himself dissatisfied with my
efforts as proxy, and demanded the privilege of pleading his
owM cause. Permit me to hope that he successfully improved
the opportunity which I provided, by requesting him to escort
you to dinner."

Standing upon the rug, and immediately in front of her, he
spoke with cool indifference, and though the words seemed to
her a cruel mockery, they proved a powerful tonic, bringing the
grim comfort that at least her presumptuous madness was not
suspected.

" I had very little conversation with Mr. Roscoe, as I declined

394

INFELICE.

to renew the discussion of a topic which was painful and em-
barrassing to me, and I fear I have entirely forfeited his friend-
ship."

" Then after mature deliberation you still peremptorily refuse
to become more closely related to me % Once there appeared a
rosy possibility that you might one day call me cousin."

With a sudden resolution she looked straight at him, for the
first time since his entrance, and answered quietly :

*' You will be my kind faithful guardian a little while longer
— until I can hear from mother ; but we shall never be any
more closely related."

The reply was not exactly what he expected and desired, but
with his clull, out-door conventional smile, he added :

" Poor Boscoe ! his heart frequently outstrips his reason."

Looking at him, she felt assured that no one could ever justly
make that charge against him ; and, unwilling to prolong the
interview, she rose.

*^ Pardon me, if notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, I
detain you a few minutes from your Undine dreams. Be so
good as to resume your seat."

There was an ominous pause, and reluctantly she was forced
to lookup.

He was regarding- her very sternly, and as his eyes caught
and held hei^, he put his fingers in his vest pocket, drawing
therefrom a narrow strip of paper, folded carefully. Holding
it out, he asked :

" Did you ever see this 1 "

Before she opened it, she knew it contained the address she
had given to Peleg Peterson on Tuesday, and a shiver crept
over her. Mechanically glancing at it, she sighed — a sigh that
was almost a moan.

" Regina, hav3 the courtesy to answer my question."

" Of course I have seen it before. You know it is my hand-
writing."

" Did you furnish that address with the expectation of con*
ducting a clandestine correspondence ? "

An increasing pallor overspread her features, but in* a very
firm decided voice, she replied :

" Yes, sir."

" Knowing that your legal guardian would forbid such an in-
terchange of letters, you directed them enclosed iinder cover to
Mrs. Mason r*

«(

I did,

JNFELIOS.

336

The slip of paper fluttered to the floor, and her fingers locked
each other.

« A gentleman picked ud that scrap of paper in one of the
squares located far up ! .«vn, and recognizing the name of uiy
ward, very discreetly placed it in the possession of her guar-
dian."

" Mr. Palma, were you not in a carriage at that Square on
Tuesday 1"

'* I was not. My time is rather too valuable to be wasted in
a rendezvous at out-of-the-way squares, while a snow-storm is
in full blast. What possible attraction do you imagine such
folly could offer mel"

" I met you not very far from that square, and I thought " —
" Pray take time, and conclude your sentence."
She shook her head.

" Some important business connected with my profession,
and involving a case long ago placed in my hands, called me,
despite the unfavourable weather, to that section of the City.
Having particularly desired and instructed you to come home
as soon as the rehearsal at Mrs. Brompton's ended, I certainly
had no right to suppose you intended to disobey me."

He paused, but she remained a pale image of silent sorrow.
" A few evenings since you asked me to trust you, and in
defiance of my judgment I reluctantly promised to do so. Have
you not forfeited your guardian's confidence ? "
" Perhaps so ; but it was unavoidable."
" Unavoidable that you should systematically deceive me )**
he demanded very sternly.
" I. have not deceived you."

" My duty as your guardian forces me to deal plainly with
you. With whom have you arranged this disgraceful clandes-
tine correspondence % "

Her gaze swept quite past him, ascended to the pitying brown
eyes in her mother's portrait ; and though she grew white as
her Undine vesture, and he saw her shudder, her voice was
unshaken.

" I cannot tell you.'*

" Representing your mother's authority, I demand an an-
swer."

After an instant she said :

" Though you were twenty times my guardian,. I shall not
tell you sir."

336

INFELIOB,

She seemed like some marble statue, which one might hack
and hew in twain, without extorting a confession.

" Then you force me to a very shocking and shameflil con-
clusion."

Was there, she wondered, any conclusion so shameful as the
truth — which at all hazard she was resolved for her mother's
sake, to hide 1

" Tou are secretly meeting, and arranging to correspond with
some vagrant lover, whom you blush to acknowledge."

" Lover ! Oh merciful OoA. ! When I need a fkther. and a
father's protecting name ; when I am heart-sick for my mother,
and her shielding healing love, how can you cruelly talk to me
of a lover 1 What right has a nameless, homeless waif to think
of love. God grant me a father and a mother, a stainless name,
and I shall never need, never wish, never tolerate a lover I Do
not insult my misery." i

She lifted her clenched hands almost menacingly, and her pas- *
sionate vehemence startled her companion, who could scarcely
recognize in the glittering defiant gaze that met his, the velvet
violet eyes over which the silken fringes had hung with such
tender Madonna-grace, but a half hour before.

" Kegina, how could you deceive me so shamefully 1 "

** I did not intend to do so. I am innocent of the disgraceful
motives you impute to me ; but I cannot explain what you con-
demn so severely. In all that I have done, I have been impelled
by a stem, painful sense of duty, and my conscience acquits
me ; but I shall not give you any explanation. To no human
being except my mother will I confess the whole matter. Oh send
me at once to her ! I asked you to trust me, and you believe
me utterly unworthy — think I have forfeited your confidence,
even your respect. It is hard, very hard, for I hoped to possess
always your good opinion. But it must be borne ; and now, at
least, holding me so low in your esteem, you will not keep me
under your roof — you will gladly send me to mother. Let me
go. Ob ! do let me go — at once — to-morrow."

She seemed inexplicably transformed into a woeful desperate
woman, and the man's heart yearned to fold her closely in his
Q.rms, sheltering her forever.

Drawing nearer, he spoke in a wholly altered voice.

" When you asked me to trust you I did so. Now, will you
grant me a similar boon ? Lily, trust me." »

His toQe had never sounded so low, almost pleading, before,

INFELIOB.

337

and it thrilled her with an overmastering grief, that when he
who was wont to command condescended to sue for her confi-
dence, she was forced to withhold it.

" Oh Mr. Palma, do not ask me ! I cannot."

He took her hands, unwinding the cold fingers, and in his
peculiar magnetic way sofbly folded them in his warm palms ;
— but she struggled to withdraw them, and he saw the purple
shadows deepening under her large eyes.

" Little girl, I would not betray your secret. Qive it to my
safe keeping. Show me your heart."

As if fearful he might read it, she involuntarily dosed her
eyes, and her answer was almost a sob.

" It is not my secret, it involves others, and I would rather
die to-morrow, to-night, than have it known. Oh ! let me
go away, at once, and forever ! "

Accustomed to compel compliance with his wishes, it was
difficult for him to patiently endure defiance and defeat from
that fair young creature, whom he began to perceive he could
neither overawe nor persuade.

l^ov several minutes he seemed lost in thought, still holding
her hands firmly; then he suddenly laughed, and stooped
toward her :

*' Brave true little heart ! I wonder if some day you will be
as steadfast and faithful in your devotion to your husband, as
you have been in your loving defence of your mother 1 You
need not tell me your secret, — I know everything, — and lily
— I can scarcely forgive you for venturing within the reach and
power of that wretched vagabond."

He felt her start and shiver, and pitying the terrified expres-
sion that drifted into her countenance, he continued :

" Unconsciously, you were giving alms to your own, and t(»
your mother's worst enemy. Peleg Peterson has for yearo
stood between you and your lawful name."

She reeled, and her fingers closed spasmodically over his, as
white and faint, she gasped :

" Then he is not — my " r-

The words died on her quivering lips.

" He is the man who has slandered and traducea your
mother, even to her own husband."

" Oh ! then, — he is not, — he cannot be my — father I "

" No more your father, than I am ! At last, I have succeeded
in obtaining"

838

INFELIOE.

She was beyond the reach even of his voice, and as she
drooped, he caught her in his arms.

Since Monday, the terrible strain had known no relaxation,
and the sudden release from the horrible incubus of Peleg
Peterson was overpowering.

Mr. Falma held her for some seconds clasped to his heart,
and placing the head on his bosom, turned the white face to his.
How hunn^rily the haughty man hung over those wan features ;
and what a wealth of passionate tenderness thrilled in the low
trembling voice that whispered :

" My Lily. My darling ; my own."

He kissed her softly, as if the cold lips were too sacred even
for his loving touch, and gently placed her on the sofa, holding
her with his encircling arm.

Since his boyhood, no woman's lips had ever pressed his, and
the last kiss he had bestowed was upon his mother's brow, as
she lay in her coffin.

To-night the freshness of youth came back, and the cold,
politic, non-committal lawyer found himself for the first time
an ai-dent, trembling lover.

He watched the faint quiver of her blue-veined lids, and
heard the shuddering sigh, that assured him consciousness was
returning. Softly stroking her hand, he saw the eyes at last
unclose.

" You certainly have been down among your uncanny Undine
caves, — for you quite resemble a drenched lily. Now sit up."

He lifbed her back into the easy-chair, as if she had been an
infant, and stood before her.

As her mind cleared, she recalled what had passed, and said
almost in a whisper :

'*' Did I dream, or did you tell me, that horrible man is not
my father 1 "

" I told you so. He is a black-hearted, vindictive miscreant,
who successfully blackmailed you, by practising a vile impos-
ture."

Oh ! are you quite sure 1 **

Perfectly sure. I have been hunting him for yeara, ai^d at
last have obtained in black and white his own confession, which
nobly exonerates your mother from his infamous aspersions,"

" Thank God ! Thank God ! "

Tears were stealing down her cheeks, and he saV from th^
twitching of her face, that she was fast losing control of lic^
pvertaxed nerves.

■ y

INFMLICB.

33»

" You must go to your room, and rest, or you will be ill."

" Oh ! not if I um sure he will never dare to claim me as his
child. Oh Ml*. Falma ! that possibility has almost dixven me
wUd."

" Dismiss it, as you would some hideous nightmai^. Go to
Bleep and dream of your mother, and of "

He bit his lip, to cheuk the rash words, and too much
agitated to observe his changed manner, she asked :

" Where is he now 1 "

" No matter where. He is so completely in my power, that
he can trouble us no more."

She clasped her hands joyfully, but the tears fell faster, and
looking at her mother's picture, she exclaimed :

" Have mercy upon me, — Mr. Falma ! Tell me — do you
know< — who I ami Do you really knc>\ beyond doubt who
was — or is — my father 1 "

" This much I can tell you, 1 know your father's name ;
but just now, I am forbidden by your mother to disclose it,
even to you. Come to your room."

He raised her from the chair, and as she stood before him,
it was pitiable to witness the agonized entreaty in her pallid,
but beautiful face.

" Please tell me only one ihing, — and I can bear all else
patiently. Was he, — was my ntther, — a gentleman 1 Oh ! my
mother could never have loved any — but a gentleman."

" His treatment of her, and of you, would scarcely entitle
him to that honorable epithet ; yet in the eyes of the world,
your father assuredly is in every respect a gentleman, — is con-
sidered even an aristocrat."

She sobbed aloud, and the violence of her emotion, which
she seemed unable to control, alarmed him. Leading her to
the library door, he said, — retaining her hand :

" Compose yourself, or you will be really sick. Now that
your poor tortured heart is easy, can you not go to sleep ] "

" Oh thank you ! Yes— I wiM try."

" Lily, next time trust me. Trust your guardian in every-
thing. Good-night. God bless you."

■.•?'i<;fi

iWIW^— "^W r- -y-

340

INFELICB,

CHAPTEE XXV.

|HE dice of the gods are always loaded,' and what

appears the merest chance, — is as inexorably fixed,

—predetermined,— as the rules of mathematics, or

the laws of crystallization. What madness to flout

'fate!"

Mrs. Orme laid downr her pen as she spoke, and leaned back
in her chair.

" Did you speak to me 1 " inquired Mrs. Waul, who had been
nodding over her worsted work, and was aroused by the sound
of the voice.

" No, — ^I was merely thinking aloud ; a foolish habit I have
contracted since I began to aspire to literary laurels. Go to
sleep again, and finish your dream."

Upon the writing desk lay a MS. in morocco cover, and
secured by heavy bronze clasps, into which the owner put a
small key attached to her watch chain, carefully locking and
la3ring it away in a drawer of the desk.

Approaching a table in the comer of the room, Mrs. Orme
filled a tall narrow Venetian glass with that violet-flavoured,
violet-perfumed Capri wine, whose golden bubbles danced upon
the brim, and having drained the last amber drop, — she rolled
her chair close to the window, looped back the curtains, and
sat down.

The lodgings she had occupied since her arrival in Naples,
were situated on the Riviera di Ohiaja, near the Villa ReaUy
and not far from the divergence into the Strada Mergellina.
Of the wonderful beauty of the scene beyond her front windows,
she had never wearied, and now in the ravishing afternoon glow,
with the blue air all saturated with golden gleams, she yielded
to the Parthenopean spell, which once felt, seems never to be
forgotten.

Had it the power to chant to rest that sombre past, which
memory kept as a funereal theme forever on its vibrating stringsl
Was there at last a file for the serpent, that had so long made
its lair in her distorted and envenomed nature 1

A-t thirty-three time ceases to tread with feathery feet, and

INFELICB,

341

ed
be

the years grow self-asserting, italicize themselves in passing ; —
and across the dial of woman's beauty the shadow of decadence
falls aslant. But although Mrs. Orme had offered sacrifice to
that inexorable Terminus, who dwels at the last border-line of
youth, — the ripeness and glow of her extraordinary loveliness
showed as yet no hint of the commg eclipse.

Health lent to cheek and lip its richest, warmest tints, and
though the silvery splendour of hope shone no longer in the elo-
quent brown eyes, — the light of an almost accomplished triumph
imparted a baleful brilliance, which even the long lashes could
not veil.

Her pale lilac robe showed admirably the transparency of
her complexion, and in her waving gilded hair she wore a
cluster of delicate rose anemones.

Her gaze seemed to have crossed the blue pavement of sea,
and rested on the purpling outlines of Ischia and Capri ; but the
dimpling smile that crossed her face, sprang from no dreamy
reverie of Parthenope legends, and her voice was low and deep,
like one rehearsing for some tragic outbreak.

" So Samson felt in Dagon's temple, — amid the jubilee of his
tormentors, — ^when silent and calm, girded only by the sense of
his wrongs, he meekly bowed to rest himself; — and all the
while his arms groped stealthily around the pillars destined to
avenge him. Ah ! how calm, how holy all outside of my heart
seems ! How in contrast with that charnel-house ! Yonder
vision of peaceful loveliness appears as incongruous, as the
nightingales which the soul of Sophocles heard singing in the
grove of the Furies % After to-day, will the world ever look
quite the same to me? Thirty-three yeara have brought me
swiftly to the last fatal page ; — and shall the hand falter, that
writes ^m« ?"

A strangely solemn expression drifted over her countenance,
but at that moment a tall form darkened the docn^way, and she
smiled.

" Come in, Gen. Laurance. Punctuality is essentially an
American virtue, rarely displayed in thiB jiolce far niente land;
and you exemplify its nationality. Five was tho hour you named,
and my little Swiss tell-tale is even now sounding the last
stroke."

She did not rise, seemed on the contrary, to sink farther
back in her velvet-lined chair ; and bending down, Gen. Laur-
ance touched her hand.

342

INFELICB.

" When a man's happiness for all time is at stake, does he
loiter on his way to receive the verdict ? Surely you will "

He paused and glanced significantly at the figure whose white
cap was bowed low, as its wearer slumbered over the intermin-
able crochet.

** May not this interview at least be sacred from the pres-
ence of your keepers 1 "

" Poor dear soul, she is happily oblivious, and will take no
stenographic notes. I would as soon declare war against my
own shadow, as order her away."

Evidently chagrined, the visitor stood irresolute, and mean-
while the gaze of his companion wandered back to the beauty
of the Bay.

He drew a chair close to that which she occupied, and hold-
ing his hat as a screen, should Mrs. Waul's spectacles chance to
turn in that direction — spoke earnestly.

" Have I been unpardonably presumptuous in interpreting
favourably this permission to see you once more ? Have you
done me the honour to ponder the contents of my letter ) "

" I certainly have pondered well the contents."

She kept her hands beyond his reach, and looking steadily
into his eager handsome face, she saw it flush deeply.

** Madame, I trust, I believe you are incapable of trifling."

" In which you do me bare justice only. With me the timg
for trifling is past, and just now life has put on all its tragic
vestments. But how long since Gen. Laurance believed me
incapable of — worse than trifling 1 "

" Ever since my infamous folly was reproved by you as it
deserved. Ever since you taught me that you were even more
noble in soul than lovely in persop. Be generous, and do not
humiliate me by recalling that temporary insanity. Having
blundered fearfully in my ignorance of your real character, does
not the ofier of yesterday embody all the reparation — all the
atonement of which a man is capable 1 "

" You desire me to consider the proposal contained in your
letter as an expiation for past oflences, as an cmiende honorable
for what might have ripened into insult, had it not been nipped
in the bud 1 Do I translate correctly your gracious diction % "

" No, you cruelly torment me by referring to an audacious
and shameful offence, for which I blush."

" Successful sins are unencumbered by penitential oblations ;
•nd only discovered and defeated crimes arouse conscience, and

INFELIOS.

d43

paint one's cheeks with mortification. Gen. Lattlttnoe meiely
illustrates a great social law."

*' Do not, dear madam, keep me in this fiery suspense. I have
offered you all that a gentleman can lay at the feet of the woman
he loves."

A cold smile lighted her face, as some arctic moonbeam
gleams for an iniotant across the spires and domes of an ice-
berg. .

" Once you attempted to offer me your heart, or what re-
mains of its ossified ruins — ^which I declined. Now you tender
me your hand and name; and, indeed, it appears that like
many of the high-born class you so nobly represent, your heart
and hand have never hitherto been conjoined in your devoir. It
were a melancholy pity, they should be eternally divorced."

Bending over her, he exclaimed :

" As heaven hears me, I swear I love you better than life —
than everything else that the broad earth holds ! You cannot
possibly doubt my sincerity, for you hold the proof in your own
hands. Be merciful, Odille, and end my anxiety."

He caught her hand, and as she attempted no resistance, he-
v.vised it to his moustached lip. Her eyes were resting upon
the blue, expanse of water, as if far away — across the vast vista
of the Mediterranean, she sought some strengthening influence, .
some sacred inspiration ; and after a moment, turning them
full upon his countenance, she said with gittve stony com-
posure:

" You have asked me to become your wife, knowing full weir
that no affection would prompt me to entertain the thought ;;
and you must be thoifoughly convinced that only sordid motives
of policy could influence me to accept you. Do men who marry
under such circumstances honour and trust the women who, as a.
dernier ressort, bear their names 1 You are not so weak, so
egregiously vain, as to delude yourself for one instant with the
supposition that I could ever love you 1 "

" Once my wife, I ask nothing more. Upon my own head
and life be the failure to make you love me. Only give me this
hand and I will take your heart. Can a lover ask less, and
hazard more 1 "

" And if you fail — woefully — as fail you must 1 "

.**! shall not. You cannot awe or discourage me, for I have
yet to find the heart that successfully defies my worship. But
if you remained indifferent — ah loveliest I you would not 1

344

INFELIOB,

Even then t should be blessed bj your presence, your society,
and that alone were worth all other women ! "

** Even though it cost you the heavy, galling burden of mar-
riage vows — an exorbitant price, which only necessity extorts %
How vividly we of the nineteenth century exemplify the wis-
dom of the classic aphorisms ) Qtiem Deu8 vult perdere, priua
dementat. Have you no fear that you are seizing with bare
fingers a glittering thirsty blade which may flesh itself in the
hand that dares to caress it ) "

'' I fear nothing but your rejection ; and though you should
prove Judith or Jael, I would disarm you thus."

Again he kissed the fair slender hand, and clasped it tenderly
between both his own.

** A man of your years does not lightly forsake the traditions
of his caste, and the usages of his ancestors ; and what Oan
patricians like Gen. Laurance hope to secure by stooping to the
borders oiproUtaire f "

" The woman whom he loves. To you I will confess, that
never until within the past six or eight months have I really
comprehended the power of genuine love. Early in life I mar-
ried a high-bom, gentle, true-hearted woman, who made me a
good faitibful wife ; but into that alliance my heart never en-
tered, and although for many years I have been free to admire
whom fickle fancy chose, and have certainly petted and caressed
some whom the world pronounced very lovely, the impression
made upon me was transient, as the perfume of a blossom
plucked and worn for a few hours only. You have exerted over
me a fascination which I can neither explain nor resist. For
you I entertain feelings never aroused in my nature until now ;
and I speak only the simple truth, when I solemnly swear to
you upon the honour of a Laurance, that you are the only woman
I have ever truly and ardently loved."

" The honour of a Laurance 1 What more sacred pledge could
I possibly desire ? "

The fingers of her free hand were toying with the small gold
chain around her neck, to which was fastened the hidden wed
ding ring of black agate, with its white skull ; and as she ^poke
her scarlet lips paled perceptibly, and her soft dreamy eyes
began to glitter.

*' Ah ! I repeat, upon my honour as a gentleman and a Lau-
rance — and a holier oath no man could offer. Of my proud
nnsullied name I am fastidiously careful, and can even you de-

INFELIOE,

345

mand or hope a nobler one than that I now lay at your feet ) "

** The name of Laurance f Certainly I think it would satisfy
even my ambition."

He felt the pretty hand grow suddenly cold in his clasp, and
saw the thin delicate nostril expand slightly, as she fixed her
brilliant eyes on his and smiled. Then she continued :

'^ Is it not too sacred and aristocratic a mantle to fling around
an obscure actress, of whose pedigree and antecedent life you
know nothing, save that widowhood and penury goaded her to
histrionic exhibitions of a beauty, that sometimes threatened to
subject her to impertinence and insult ? Put aside the infatua-
tion which not unfrequently attacks men who like you are
rapidly descending the hill of life — approaching the stage of
second childlike simplicity — and listen for a moment to the cold
dictates of prudence and policy. Suppose that ere you surren-
dered your reason to the magnetism of what you are pleased to
consider my physical * perfection,' one of your relatives, a
brother — or say even your son — had met me at Milan as you
did, and madly forgetting his family rank, his aristocratic ties,
all the pride and worldly wisdom of heredity, had while in a
fit of complete dementia, offered, as you have done, to clothe
my humble obscurity in the splendid name of Laurance?
Would Gren. Ren^ Laurance have pardoned him, and received
me as his sister, or his daughter % "

" Could I censure any man for surrendering to charms
which have so completely vanquished me ? Thank Heaven ! I
have neither brother nor son to rival me. My only child,,
Cuthbert, is safely anchored in the harbour of wedlock, and hav-
ing his own famUy ties, I am free to consult only my heart
in the choice of a bride. I have not journeyed so far down the
hill of life, as you cruelly persist in asserting, and the fervour
of my emotions denies your unkind imputation. When I
proudly show the world the lovely wife of my heart's choice,
you will find my devotion a noble refutation of your unflatter-
ing estimate. But a moment since, you confessed that to ex-
change the name of Orme for that of Laurance, would crown
your ambition ; my dearest, the truth has escaped you."

With a sudden gesture of loathing, she threw off his hand,
struck her palms together, and he started at the expression
that seemed literally to blaze in her eyes, so vivid, so wither-
ing was the light that rayed out.

" Yes — the truth escajjed my lips. The honourable name of

wii i ii I "'I

'rw?»'""»»"»»"f"^^*"

^"fVp^n

346

INFELICB.

liaurance is talismanic, and offers much to Odille Orme ; yet
I will stain my soul with no dissimulation. With love and
I'OTPance I finished long, long ago \ and to-day I have not
|)atience to trifle even with its phraseology. I am thirty-three,
and in my early girlhood the one love-dream of all my life was
rudely broken, leaving me no more capacity to indulge a
second, than belongs to those marbles in the MueSe Bout-
bonique. For my dear young husband I felt the only intense,
idolatrous, yes, blindly worshipping devotion, that my nature
could yield to any human being. When I lost him, I lost my
heart also ; became doubly widowed, because my grief bereft
me of the power of properly loving even our little baby. For
years I have given my body and soul to the accomplishment of
one purpose, the elevation of my social atatuSf and that of my
child. Had my husband been spared to me, we would not
have remained obscure and poor, but after my widowhood the
struggle devolved upon me. I hare not had leisure to think, of
' love, have toiled solely for maintenance and position ; and
have sternly held myself aloof from the world that dared to
believe my profession rendered me easy of access. Titles have
been laid at my feet, but their glitter seemed fictitious, did not
allure me ; and no other name, save yours, has ever for an
instant tempted me. To-day you are here to plead my accept-
ance of that name, and frankly I tell you, sir, it dazzles me.
As an American I know all that it represents, all that it
would confer on me, all that it would prove for my child, and
I would rather wear the name of Laurance, than — a coronet !
I confess I have but one ambition, to lift my daughter into
that high social plane, from which fate excluded her mother;
and this eminence I covet for her, a marriage with you prom-
isee me. I have no heart to bring you ; mine died with all my
wifely hopes, when I lost my husband. If I consent to give
you my hand, and nominally the claim of a husband, in
exchange for the privilege of merging Oime in T^urance, it
must be upon certain solemn conditions, to the fulfilment of
which your traditional honour is pledged. Is a Laurance safely
bound by vows % "

Her voice had grown strangely metallic, losing all its liquid
Bweetness, and as her gaze searched his face, the striking
roeemblance she traced in his eyes and mouth, lo those of
Cnthbert and Regina, seemed to stab her heaH.

To the man who listened and watched with breathless anxi-

INFELICE.

347

etj her hardening, whitening features, she merely recalled the
memory of her own tragic " Medea " confronting " Jason " at
Athena.

" Only accept my vows at the altar, and I challenge the
world to breathe an imputation upon their sanctity. Ren^
Laurance never broke a promise, never forfeited a pledge,
and to keep his name unsullied, his honour stainless, is his
sole religion. Odille, my Queeix '-

She rose and waved him back.

" Spare me rhapsodies that accord neither Wtth your years,
nor m,*' 3nv. f^ts. Understand 'is a mere bargain and sale,
and I a.^ care. ...iy arranging the \<aitions. For myself I ask
little, but, as you are aware, my daughter is grown, is now in
her seventeenth year, and the man whom the world regards as
my husband, must share his name, and fortune with my child.
Doubtless you deem me calculating and mercenary, and for her
dear sake — I am forced to be so ; for all the tenderness that
remains in my nature, is centred in my little girl. She has
been reared as carefully as a princess, is accomplished and very
beautiful, and when you see her — I think you will scarcely
refuse the tribute of your admiration and affection."

For an instant, a gray pallor spread from lip to brow, and
the unhappy woman shuddered ; but rallying, she moved across
the floor to her writing-desk, and the infatuated man followed,
whispering :

" If she resembles her mother, can you doubt her perfect and
prompt adoption into my heart 1 "

" My daughter is unlike me ; is so entirely the image of her
lost father, that the sight of her beauty sometimes overwhelms
me with torturing memories. Here, Gen. Laurance, is a care-
fully written paper, which I submit for your examination and
mature reflection. When in the presence of proper witnesses
you sign that contract, you will have purchased the right to
claim my hand, mark you — only my hand, at the altar."

It was a cautiously worded marriage settlement, drawn up in
conformity with legal requirements ; and its chief exaction was
the adoption of Eegina, the transmission of the name of
Laurance, and the settlement upon her of a certain amount
of money in stocks and bonds, exclusive of any real estate.

As he received the paper and opened it, Mrs. Orme added :

" Take your own time, and weigh the conditions carefully
and deliberately."

mirmm

848

INFEUOS.

" i
I I

" Stay, Odille ; do not leave me. A few moments will suffioe
for this matter, and I am in no mood to endure suspense."

** Within an hour, you can at least comprehend what I
demand. I am going to the terrace of the Villa Beale, and
when in accordance with that contract you decide to adopt my
child, and present her to the world as your own, you will find
me on the terrace."

He would have taken her hand, but she walked away, and
disappeared, closing a door behind her.

His hat had rolled out of sight, and as he searched hurriedly
for it, Mrs. Waul spoke from her distant recess :

** Gen. Laurance will find his hat between the ottoman and
the window."

The winding walks of the Villa were comparatively deserted
when Mrs. Orme began to pace slowly to and fro beneath tke
trees, whose foliage swayed softly in the mild evening air.
When the few remaining groups had passed beyond her vision;
she threw back the long thick veil that had effectually concealed
her features, and approaching the parapet that overhung the
sea, sat down. Removing her hat and veil, she placed them
beside her on the seat, and resting her hands on the iron railing,
bowed her chin upon them, and looked out upon the sea
murmuring at the foot of the wall.

The flush and sparkle of an hour ago had vanished so utterly,
that it appeared incredible that colour, light, and dimples could
ever wake again in that frozen face, over whose rigid features
brooded the calm of stone.

" A woman fair and stately,
But pale A4 are the dead,"

she seemed some impassive soulless creature, incapable alike
of remorse or of hope, allured by no future, frightened by no
past ; silently fronting at last the one sunless, joyless, dreary
goal, whose attainment had been for years the paramount aim
of her stranded life. The rosy glow of dying day yet lingered
in the sky, and tinged the sea, and a golden moon, followed by
a few shy stars, watched their shining images twinkling in the
tremulous water ; but the loveliest object upon which t^eir soft
light fell, was that lonely, wan, lilac-robed woman.

So Jephtha's undaunted daughter might have looked, as she
saw the Syrian sun sink below the palms and poppies, — know-
ing that when it rose once more upon the smiling, happy world,

INFStJOB.

849

ber ■aorifioe would have been accomplished, — her fate forever
sealed; or so perhaps Alcestis watched the slow coming foot-
steps of that dreadful hour, when for her beloved she «roluntarily
relinquished life.

To die for those we love, were easy martyrdom, but to live
in sacrificial throes fierce as Dirce's tortures, to endure for
tedious indefinite lingering years, jilted by death, demands a
fortitude higher than that of Cato, Socrates or Seneca.

To all of us come sooner or later, lurid fateful hours, that
bring us face to face with the pale Faroe; — -so dose that we
see the motionless distaff, — and tiie glitter of the opening shears,
— and have no wish to stay the clipping of the frayed and
tangled thread.

In comparison witlkthe grim destiny Mrs. Orme had so syste-
matically planned, the hideous " death in life, " upon which she
was deliberately preparing to enter, a leap over that wall into
the placid sea beneath, would have been welcome as heaven to
tortured Dives; but despite the loathing and horror of her
sickened and outraged soul, she contemplated her future lot as
calmly, as St. Lawrence the hdating of his gridiron.

Over the beautiful blue bay, where the moon had laid her
pavement of gold, floated a low sweet song, — a simple bar-
carolle, that came from a group of happy souls in a small
boat.

'* Che cosi vual qne pesci
Fiduline !
L'anel que me casca
Nella bella mia barca
Nella bella ae ne va.
Fiduline."

Approaching the shore, the ruddy light ouming at one end
of the boat showed its occupants ; a lytndsome athietio young
fisherman, and his pretty childish wife, hushing her ha.hy in her
arms, with a slow cradle-like movement that kept time to her
husband's song.

•* Te daro cento scud!
Fiduline.
Sta bona riccama
For la bella sua barca
Colla bella se ne va.
Fidulilalo, Fiduline."

Springing ashore he secured the boat, and held out his arms
for the i^eeping bud that contained in its folded petals all their

350

INFELIOE.

domeatio hopes ; and as the star-eyed young mother kissed it
lightly and laid it in its father's arms, the happy pair walked

-ray, leaving the echo of their gay musical chatter lingering
on the air.

To the woman who watched and listened from the parapet
above, it seemed a panel, rosy, dewy, fresh from Tempe, set as a
fresco upon the walls of Hell, to heighten the horrors of the
doomed.

From her ch^ilice fate had stolen all that was sweet and rap-
turous in wifehood and motherhood, substituting hemlock ; and
as the vision of her own fair child was recalled by the sleeping
babe of the Italian fisherman, she sufifered a keen pang in the
consciousness that those tender features of her innocent daugh-
ter reproduced vividly the image of the man who had blackened
her life.

The face in Begina's portrait was so thoroughly Laurance in
outline, and Laurance in colour, that the mother had covered It
with a thick veil ; unable to meet the deep violet eyes, that
she had learned to hate in Ren^ Laurance and his son.

Yet for the sake of that daughter, whose gaze she shunned,
she was about to step down into flames far fiercer than those
of Tophet, silently immolating all that remained of her life.

Although she neither turned her head, nor removed her eyes
from the sea, she knew that the end was at hand. For one
instant her heart seemed to cease beating, then with a keen
spasm of pain slowly resumed its leaden labour.

The erect, graceful, manly figure at her side bent down, and
the grizzled moustache touched her forehead.

"Cdille, I accept your terms. Henceforth, in accordance
with your own conditions, you are mine ; mine in the sight of
God and man."

Becoiling, she drew her handkerchief across the spot where
his lips had rested, and her voice sounded strangely cold and
haughty :

** God holds Himself aloof from such sacrilege as this, and
dometimes I think He does not witness, or surely would forbid.
Just yet, you must not touch me. You accept the conditions
nam^, and I shall hold myself bound by the stipulations ; but
until I am your wife, until you take my hand as Mrs. Laurance,
— ^you will pardon me if I absolutely prohibit all caresses.. I
am very frank, you see, and doubtless you consider me peculiar,
— probably prudish, but only a husband's lips can touch mine,
only a husband's arm encircle me. When we are married,"

INFELIOE.

S01

She did not complete the sentence, but a peculiar, musical
laugh rippled over her lips, and she held out her hand to him.

*' Remember I promised Gen. Laurance only my hand, and
here I suri*ender it. You have fairly earned it, but X fear it
will not prove the guerdon you fondly imagine."

He k£98ed it tenderly, and keeping it in his, spoke very
earnestly :

" Only one thing, Odille, I desire to stipulate, and that springs
solely from my jeisilous love. You must promise to abandon
the stage forevci*. Indeed my beautiful darling, I could not
endure to see my wife, my own — ^before the footlights. In Mrs.
Laurance the world must lose its lovely idol."

" Am I indeed so precious in Gen. Laurance's eyes ! W ill he
hold me always such a dainty sacred treasure, safe from cen-
sure and aspersion ! Sir, 1 appreciate the delicate regard tliat
prompts this expression of your wishes, and with one slight
exception, I willingly accede to them. I have written a little
drama, adapting the chief rdh to my own peculiar line ol
talent, and I desire in that play, of my omoi composition, to
bid adieu to the stage. In Paris, where illness curtailed my
engagement, I wish to make my parting bow, and I trust you
will not oppose so innocent a pleasure 1 The marriage ceremony
shall be performed in the afternoon, and that night I propose to
appear in my own play. May I not hope that my husband will
consent to see me on my wedding day, in that rdU ? Only one
night, then adieu forever to the glittering bauble I Can my
fastidious lover refuse the first boon I ever craved )"

She turned and placed her disengaged hand on his shoulder,
and as the moonlight shone on her smiling dangerously beguil-
ing face, the infatuated man laid his lips upon the soft,> white
fingers.

"Could I refuse you anything — my beautiful, brown-eyed
empress 1 Only onco more, then ; promise me after that night
to resign the stage, to reign solely in my heart and home."

" You have my promise, and when I break my vows, it will
be the Laurance example that I follow. In your letter you
stated that urgent business demanded your return to Pai-is,
possibly to America. Can you not postpone the consummation
of our marriage ]"

"^ Impossible ! How could I consent to defer what I regard
as the crowning happiness of my life 1 I have not so many
years in store, that I can afford to waste even au hour without
you. When I leave Europe, I shall take my darling with me."

362

INFSLIOE.

The moon was nhining full upon her faxje, and the magnificent
eyea looked steadily into his. There was no movement of nerve
or muscle to betray all that raged in her soul, as she fought and
conquered the temptation to spring forward, and hurl him over
the parapet.

In the flush and enthusiasm of his great happiness, he cer-
tainly seemed far younger in proportion to their respective
years, than his companion; and as he softly stroked back a
wave of golden hair that had fallen on her whit* brow, he
leaned until his still handsome face was close to hers, and
whispered :

" When may I claim you ? Do not, my love, delay it a day
longer than is absolutely necessary."

" To-morrow mcrr'ing I will give you an answer. Then I am
going away for a few days to Pffistum, and cannot gc« you again,
till we meet in Paris. Recollect, I warned you, I bring no heart,
no love ; both are lost hopelessly in the ashes of the past. I
never loved but one man, the husband of my youth, the father
of my baby; and his loss I shall mourn tUl the co£5n closes
above me. G^n. Laurance, you are running a feaiful ha2sard,
and the very marble of the fdtar should find a voice to cry out,
and stay your madness."

She shivered, and her eyes burned almost supernaturally
large and lustrous.

Charmed by her beauty and grace, which had from the
beginning of their acquaintance attracted him more powerfully
than any other woman had ever done, and encouraged by the
colossal vanity that had always predominated in his character,
he merely laughed, and caressed her hand.

"Can any hazard deter me, when the reward will be the
privilege, the right, to fold you in my arms? I am afraid of
nothing that can result from making you my wife. Do not
cloud my happiness by conjuring up spectres, that only annoy
you, that cannot for an instant influence me. Tour hands are
icy, and you have no shawl. Let me take you home."

Silently she accepted his arm, and as the fringy acacias
trembled and sighed above her, she walked by his side ; wonder-
ing if the black shadow that hung like a pall over the distant
crest of Vesuvius were not a fit symbol of her own wretched,
doomed existence, threatening a sudden outbreak that would
scatter ruin and despair where least expected 1

Kearing the Yilla gate. Gen. Laurance asked :

INFBLICE.

" What is the character of your drama 1 Ih it historic V

" Eminently historic."

"In what era r

" The last eighteen or twenty yearn."

" When may I read the MS.1 I am impatient to see all that
■prings from your dear hands."

" ^e dramatic effect will be far finer, when you see me act
it. Pardon me, if I am vain enough to feel assured, that my
little play will touch my husband's heart as even Racine,
Shakespeare, and Euripides never did !"

There was a triumphant, exultant ring in her silveiy voice,
that only charmed her infatuated compai Ion, and tende:; ly pres-
sing the hand that lay on his arm, he added pleadir jly :

" At least, my dear Odille, you will tell me the title :

She shook off his fingers, and answered quietly :

" Gen. Laurance, I call it merely — Infetice.

CHAPTER XXVI.

kOR some days subsequent to Mrs. Carew's departure,
Regina saw little of her guardian who<<e manner was
1^ unusually preoccupied, and entirely devoid of the
earnest interest and sympathy he had displayed at their
last interview. Ascribing the change to regret at the
absence of the guest whose presence had so enlivened the house,
the girl avoided all unnecessary opportuniites of meeting him,
and devoted herself assiduously tc hf music and studies.

The marriage of a friend residing i;i llbany had called Olga
thither, and in the confusion and hurried preparation incident
to the journey, she had found, or at least improved no leisure
to refer to the subject of the remarks made by Mrs. Carew and
Mr. Chesley, relative to Mr. Ijggleston.

Mr. Congreve and Mi*s. Palma had accompanied Olga to the
railroad d6p6t, and sl.o departed in unusually high spirits.

Several days elapsed, during which Mr. Palma's abstraction
increased, and by degrees Regina learned from his stepmother
that a long pending suit, involving several millions of dollars,
was drawing to a close.

.:ll|

354

INFELICE.

As counsel for the plaintiff, he was summing up and prepar-
ing his final speech. An entire day was consumed in its de-
livery, and on the following afternoon as Regina sat at the
library table, writing her German exercise, she heard his foot-
steps ascending with unwonted rapidity the hall stairs. Outside
the door he paused, and accosted Mrs. Palma who hastened to
meet him.

" Madam, I have won."

** Indeed, Erie, I congratulate you. I beUeve it involves a
very large fee 1 "

" Yes, twenty thousand d )llars ; but the victory yields other
fruit quite as valuable to me. Judges McLemore and Mayfield
were on the defence, and it cost me a very hard fight ; liter-
ally — * Palma non sine pulvere.* The jury deliberated only
twenty minutes, and of course I am much gratified."

" I am heartily glad, but it really is no more than I expected ;
for when did you ever fail in anything of importance 1 "

" Most signally in one grave matter, which deeply concerns
me. Despite my efforts, Olga's animosity grows daily more
intense, and it annoys, wounds me ; for you are aware that I
have a very earnest interest in her welfare. I question veiy
much the propriety of your course, in urging this match upon
her, and you know that from the beginning I have discouragad
the whole scheme. She is vastly Congreve's superior, and I
(fonfess I do not relish the idea of seeing her sacrifice herself so
completely. I attempted to tell her so, about a fortnight since,
but she stormily forbade my mentioning Congreve's name in
her presence, and looked so like an enraged leopardess that I
desisted."

" It will prove for the best, I hope ; and nothing less binding,
less decisive than this marriage ^vill cure her of her obstinate
folly. Time will heal all, and some day, Erie, she will under-
stand you and appreciate wiiat you have done."

** My dear Madam, I merely mean that I desire she should
regard me as a brother, anxicus to promote her true interests,
whereas she considers me her worst enemy. Just now we will
adjourn the subject, as I must trouble you to pack my valise.
I am obliged to start immediately to Washington, and cannot
wait for dinner. Will you direct Octave to prepare a cup of
coffee r'

" How long will you be absent?"

" I cannot say positively, as my business is of a charactei

/■

INFELICB.

355

which may be transacted in three hours, or may detain me as
many days. I must leave here in half an hour."

The door was open, and hearing what passed, Regina bent
lower over her exercise book, when her guardian came forward.

Although toil-«vorn and paler than usual, his eyes were full of
a proud glad light that indexed gratification at his success.

Leaning against the table, he said carelessly :

" I am going to Washington, and will safely deliver any mes-
sage you feel disposed to send to your admirer, Mr. Chesley."

She glanced inquiringly at him.

" I hope you reciprocate his regard, for he expressed great
interest in your welfare."

" I liked him exceedingly, better than any gentleman I ever
met, except dear Mr. Hargrove."

'' A very comprehensive admission, and eminently flattering
to poor Elliott and * Brother ' Douglass."

" Mr. Chesley is a very noble-looking old man, and seemed
to me worthy of admiration and confidence. He did not impress
me as a stranger, but rather as a dear friend."

'' Doubtless I shall find the chances all against me when you
are requested to decide between us."

A perplexed expression crossed the face she raised toward
him.

" I am not as quick as Mrs. Carew in solving enigmas."

" Apropos ! what do you think of my charming, fair client ? "

Her heart quickened its pulsations, but the clear sweet voice
was quiet and steady.

" I think her exceedingly beautiful and graceful."

" When I am as successful in her suit as in the great case I
won to-day, I shall expect you to offer me very sincere congra*
tulations."

He smiled pleasantly as he looked at her pure face, which had
never seemed so surpassingly lovely as just thea, with white
hyacinths nestling in and perfuming her hair.

" I shall not be here then ; but, Mr. Palma, wherever I am, I
shall always congratulate you upon whatever conduces to your
happiness."

" Then I may consider that you have already decided in favour
of Mr. Chesley r'

" Mr. Palma, I do not quite understand your jest."

" Pardon me, it threatens to become serious. Mr. Chesley is
immensely wealthy, and having no near relatives, desires to

356

INFELIGE.

:•■

adopt some pretty, well-bred, affectionate-natured girl, who can
take care of and cheer his old age, and to whom he can bequeath
his name and fortune. His covetous eyes have fallen upon my
ward, and he seriously contemplates making some grave proposals
to your mother, relative to transferring you to "Washington, and
thence to San Francisco. As Mr. Chesley's heiress your future
will be very brilliant, and I presume that in a voluntary choice
of guardians I am destined to lose my ward."

" Very soon my mother will be my guardian, and Mr. Chesley
is certainly a gentleman of too much good sense and discretion
to entertain such a thought relative to a stranger of whom he
knows absolutely nothing. A few polite kindly-worded phrases
bear no such serious interpretation."

She had bent so persistently over her book that he closed and
removed it beyond her reach, forcing her to regard him ; for
after the toil, contention, and brain-wrestling of the court-room,
it was his reward just now to look into her deep calm eyes,
and watch the expressions vary in her untutored ingenuous
countenance.

" Men, especially confirmed old bachelors, are sometimes very
capricious and foolish, and my friend Mr. Chesloy appears to have
fallen hopelessly into the depths of your eyes. In vain I assured
him that Helmholtz has demonstrated that the deepest blue eye
is after all only a turbid medium. In his inf^iituation he persists
that science is a learned bubble, and that your eyes are wells of
truth and inspiration. Of course you desiie that I shall present
your affectionate regards to your future guardian 1 "

" You can improvise any message you deem advisable, but I
send none."

A faint colour was stealing into her cheeks, and the long lashes
drooped before the bright black eyes that had borne down many
a bravo face on the witness stand.

The clock struck, and Mr. Falma compared his watch with its
record.

He was loath to quit that charming qriet room which held
the fair innocent young queen of his love, and hasten away upon
the impending journey ; but it was important that|he should not
miss the railway train, and he smothered a sigh.

" This morning I neglected to give you a letter which arrived
yesterday, and of course I need expect no pardon when you
ascertain that it is from ' India's coral strand.' If ' Brother
Douglass ' is as indefatigable in the discharge of his missionary

INFELIGE. ^

367

as his epistolary labours, he deserves a crown of numerous con-
verts. This letter was enclosed in one addressed to me, and I
prefer that you should postpone your reply until my return. I
intended to mention the matter this morning, but was absorbed
in court proceedings, and now I am too much hurried."

She put the letter into her pocket and at the same time drew
out a small envelope containing the amount of money she had
borrowed. Rising, she handed it to him.

" Allow me to cancel my debt."

As he received it their fingers met, and a hot flush rushed
over the lawyer's weary face. He bit his lip, and recovered
himself before she observed his emotion.

** That alms-giving episode is destined to yield an inestimable
harvest of benefits. But I must hurry away. Pray do not
take passage for the jungles of Oude before I return, for when-
ever you leave me, I should "at least like the ceremony of bid-
ding my ward adieu. Good-bye."

She gave him her hand.

" Good-bye, Mr. Palma. I hope you will have a pleasant trip."

As she stood before him, the rich blue of her soft cashmere
dress rendered her pearly complexion fairer still, and though
keen pain gnawed at her heart, no hint of her suffering marred
the perfection of her face.

" Lily, where did you get those lovely white hyacinths 1 Yes-
terday I ordered a bouquet of them, but could procure none.
Would you mind giving me the two that smell so deliciously
in your hair % I want them — well — no matter why. Will you
oblige me 1 "

" Certainly, Sir ; bui I have a handsomer fresher spike of
flowers in a glass in my room, which I will bring down to you."

She turned, but he detained her.

" No, these are sufficiently pretty for my purpose, and 1 am
hurried. I trust I may be pardoned this robbery of your floral
ornaments, since you will probably see neither Mr. Roscoe, Mr.
Chetjloy, nor yet Padre Sahib this evening."

She laid the snowy perfumed bells in his outstretched hand,
and said :

" I am exceedingly glad that even in such a trifle I can con-
tribute to your pleasure, and I assure you that you are perfectly
welcome to my hyacinths."

The sweet downcast face and slightly wavering voice appealed
*" all that was tender and loving in the cold undemonstrative

358

INFELICE.

nature, and he was strongly tempted to take her in his arms
and tell her the truth, which every day he found more difficult
to conceal.

" Thank you. Some day, Lily, I will tell you their mission
and fate. Should I forget, remind me."

He smiled, bowed, and hurried from the room, leaving her
sadly perplexed.

At dinner Mrs. Falma said :

" I have promised to chaperone the Bruce sisters to-night to
the opera, and shall take tea at their house. Were I sure ot a
seat for you T should insist upon taking yoa, for I dislike to
leave you so much alone ; but the box might be full, and then
things would bo awkward."

" You need have no concern on my account, for I have my
books, and am accustomed to bemg alone. Moreover, I am not
particularly partial to the music of * Martha,' which will be
played to-night."

" Did your guardian tell you he has just won that great
* Migdol ' case, that created so much interest 1 "

" He mentioned it. Mrs. Palma, I thought he looked weary
and jaded -as if he needed rest rather than a journey."

" Erie is never weary. His nerves are steel, and he will
speedily forget his court-house cares in Mrs. Carew's charming
conversation."

" But she is not in Washington 1 "

" She told me yesterday she would go there this afternoon,
and showed me the most superb maize-coloured satin just re-
ceived from Worth, which she intends we^^ing to-morrow even-
ing at the French Ambassador's ball, or reception. You know
she is very fascinating, and though Erie thinks little about
women, I really believe she will succeed in driving law books, for
a little while at least, out of his cool clear head. My dear, I am
going to write a short note. Will you please direct Hattie to
bring my opera hat, cloak and glasses 1 "

With inexpressible relief Regina heard the heavy silk rustle
across the hall, when she took her departure, and rejoiced in the
assurance that there was no one to intrude upon her solitude.

How she wished that she could fly to some desert, where un-
discovered she might cry aloud, in the great agony that pos-
sessed her heart.

The thought that her guardian had hastened away to accom-
pany that gray-eyed, ^olden-haired-witch of a woman to Wash-

INFELICE.

359

iin-
pos-

ington, was intolerably bitter; and as she contemplated the
possibility, nay the probability of his speedy marriage, a wild
longing seized her to make her escape, and avoid the sight of
such a spectacle.

When she recalled his proud, handsome, composed face, and
tried to imagine him the husband of Mrs. Carew, bending over,
caressing her, the girl threw her arms on his writing desk, and
sunk her face upon them, as if to shut out the torturing vision.

She knew that he was singularly reserved and undemonstra-
tive ; she had nevei* seen him fondle or caress anything, and the
bare thought that his stern marble lips would some day seek
and press that woman's scarlet mouth, made her shiver with a
pang that was almost maddening.

How cruelly mocking that he should take her favourite snowy
hyacinths, to offer them to Mrs. Carew ! Did his keen insight
penetrate the folly she had suffered to grow up in her own
heart, and 4iad he coolly resorted to this method of teaching
her its hopelessness 1

If she could leave New York before his return, and never
see him again, would it not be best 1 His eyes were so pierc-
ing, he was so accustomed to reading people's emotions in
their countenance, and she felt that she could not survive his
discovery of her secret.

What did his irony relative to India portend 1 Hitherto, she
had quite forgotton the letter from Mr. Lindsay, and now,
breaking the seal, sought an explanation.

A few faded flowers fell out as she unfolded it, and ere she
completed the perusal, a cry escaped her. Mr. Lindsay wrote
that his health had suffered so severely from the climate of
India, that he had been compelled to surrender his missionary
work to stronger hands, and would return to his native land.
He believed that rest and America would restore him, an<J now
he fully declared the nature of his affection, and the happiness
with which he anticipated his reunion with her ; reminding her
of her farewell promise, that none should have his place in her
heart. More than once, she read the closing words of that
long letter.

"I had intended deferring this declaration until you were
eighteen, and restored to your mother's care; but my unex-
pectedly early return, and the assurance contained in your
lettei-s, that your love has in no degree diminished, determine
me to acquaint you at once with the precious hope that 30

3e6

INFELIGE.

fo^laddens the thought of our approaching reunion. While your
decision must of course be subject to and dependent on your
mother's aj^roval, I wish you to consult only the dictates of
your heart ; believing that all my future must be either bright-
ened or clouded by your verdict. Open the package given to
you in our last interview, and if you have faithfully kept your
promise, let me see upon your hand the ring, which I shall re-
gard as the pledge of our betrothal. Whether I live many or
ievf years, God grant that your love may glorify and sanctify
my earthly sojourn. In life or death, my darling Regina, be-
lieve me always,

** Your devoted

"Douglass."

Below the signature, and dated a week later, were several
Hues in Mrs. Lindsay's handwriting, informing her that her son
had again been quite ill, but was improving ; and that within
the ensuing ten days, they expected to sail for Japail, and thence
to San Francisco, where Mrs. Lindsay's only sister resided. In
conclusion she earnestly appealed to Regina, as the daughter of
her adoption, not to extinguish the hope, that formed so power-
ful an element in the recovery of her son Douglass.

Was it the mercy of God, or the grim decree of fatalism, or
the merest accident that provided this door of escape, when she
was growing desperate?

Numb with heart-ache, and strangely bewildered, Regina
could recognize it only as a providential harbour, into which
she could safely retreat from the storm of suffering that was
beginning to roar around her. Recalling the peaceful happy
years spent at the parsonage, and the noble character of the
man who loved her so devotedly, who had so tenderly cared for
her through the season of her childhood, — a gush of grateful
emotion pleaded that she owed him all that he now asked.

When she contrasted the image of the pale student, so affec-
tionate, so unselfishly considerate in all things, — with the com-
manding figure and cold, guarded, non-committal face of Mr.
Palma, — she shivered and groaned ; but the comparison only
goaded her to find safety in the sheltering love that must at
at least give her peace.

If she were Douglass Lindsay's wife, would she not find it
far easie'r to forget her guardian ? Would it be sinful to promise
her hand to one while her heart stubbornly enshrined the other 1
She loved Mr. Lindsay very much ; — he seemed holy, in his

INFELICE,

361

supremely unselfish and deeply religious life— and after a whilA
perhaps other feelings would grow up toward him 1

In re-reading the letter, she saw that Mr. Lindsay had in-
formed Mr. Palma of the proposal which it contained ; as he
deemed it due to her guar^an to acquaint him with the senti-
ments they entertained for each other.

Should she reject the priestly hand and loyal heart of the
young missionary, would not Mr. Palma suspect the truth )

She realized that the love in her heart was of that deep, ex-
haustive nature which comes but once to women, and since she
must bury it forever, was it not right that she isdiould dedicate
her life to promoting Mr. L.-.dsay's happiness 1 Next to her
mother did she not owe him more than any other human being ?

As she sat leaning upon Mr. Palma's desk, she saw his hand-
kerchief near the inkstand, where he had dropped it early that
morning ; and taking it up, she drew it caressingly across her
cheek and lips. Everything in this room, where, since her
residence in New York, she had been accustomed to see him,
grew sacred from association with him, and all that he touched
was strangely dear. "

For two hours she sat there, very quiet, weighing the past,
considering the future, and, at last, she slowly resolved upon
her course.

She would write that night to her mother, enclose Mr.
Lindsay's letter, and if her mother's permission could be ob-
tained, she would give her hand to Douglass, and in his love
forget the brief madness thai; now made her so wretched.

From the date of the postscript she discovered that the letter
had been delayed en route, and computing the time from Yoko-
hama to San Francisco — according to information given by Mr.
Chesley — she found that unless some unusual detention had oc-
curred, the vessel in which Mr. and Mrs. Lindsay intended to
sail should have already reached Califorria.

Mr. Palma's jest, relative to India, was explained ; and evi-
dently, he had not sufficient interest in her decision even to
pause and ask it. Knowing the contents, he had with cold in-
difference carried the letter for two days in his pocket, and
handed it to her just as he was departing.

She imagined him sitting in the car, beside Mrs. Carew —
admiring her beauty — ^perhaps uttering in her ear tender vows,
never breathed by his lips to any other person, while she— tho

362

INFBLIOE.

waif, the fatherless, nameless, obscure, young girl — sat there
alone, desperately fighting the battle of destiny.

Bitter as was this suggestion of her aching heart, it brought
strength ; and rising, she laid aside the handkerchief and quitted
the apartment that babbled ceaselessly of its absent master.

Among some precious souvenirs of her mother she kept the
package which had been given to her by Mr. Lindsay, with
the request that it should remain unopened until her eighteenth
birth-day, and now she unlocked the small ebony box that con-
tained her few treasures.

The parcel was sealed with i«d wax, and when dbe removed
the enveloping pasteboard, she found a heavy £ ^^. ring, bear-
ing a large, beautifully tinted opal, surrouudeu with small
diamonds. On the inside was engraved " Douglass and Regina,"
with the date of the day on which he had left the Parsonage
for India.

Kneeling beside her bed, she prayed that God would help
her tt) do right — would guide her into the proper path — woiild
enable her to do her duty, first to her mother, then to Mr.
Lindsay.

When she rose, the ring shone on her left hand, and though
her face was worn and pallid, her mournful eyes were undim-
med, and she sat down to write her mother frankly concerning
the feelings of intense gratitude, and perfect confidence, which
prompted her to accept Mr. Lindsay's offer — provided Mrs. Orme
consented to the betrothal.

Ere she had concluded the task, her attention was attracted
by a noise on the stairs that were situated near her door.

It was rather too early for Mrs. Palma's return from the
opera, and the servants were all in a different portion of the
building.

Regina laid down her pen, and listened. Slow, heavy foot-
steps were ascending, and recognizing nothing familiar in the
sound, she walked quickly to the door which stood ajar, and
looked out.

A tall woman, wrapped in a heavy shawl, had reached the
landing, and as the gaslight fell upon her, Regina started for-
ward, gj'y

" Olga ! we did not expect you until to-morrow — ^but you are
disguised 1 Oh ! what is the matter 1"

Wan and haggard, apparently ten years older than when
she ran down those steps a week previous — departing for

the
the

INFBLWB.

363

Albany, Olga stood clinging to the mahogany rail of the bal-
ustrade. Her large straw bonnet had fallen back, the heavy
hail' was slipping low on neck and brow, and her sunken eyes
had a dreary stare.

"Are you ill ) What has happened ? Dear Olga, speak to
me.

She threw her arms around the regal figure, and felt that she
was shivering from head to foot.

As she became aware of the close clinging embrace in which
Begina held her, a ghastly smile parted Olga's colourless lips,
and she said in a husky whisper :

" Is it you 1 True little heart ; — the only one left ^^ ^^^ ^^
world."

After a few seconds, she added ;

"Where is mammal"

"At the opera."

" To see Beelzebub 1 All the world is singing and playing
that now, and you may be sure that you and I shall be in at
the final chorus. Begina"

She swept her hand feebly over her forehead, and Memed to
forget herself.

Then she rallied, and a sudden spark glowed in her duU
eyes, as when a gust stirs an ash heap, and uncovers a dying
ember.

"Erie Palmar

" Has gone to Washington."

" May he never come back ! Oh God ! a hundred deaths
would not satisfy me ! A hundred graves were not sufficient
to hide him from my sight !"

She groaned, and clasped her hand across her eyes.

" What dreadful thing has occurred f Tell me, you know
that you can trust me."

" Trust ! no, no ; not even the Archangels that fan the throne
of God. I have done with trust. Take me in your room a
little while. Hide me from mamma until to-morrow ; then it
will make no difference who sees me."

Begina led her to the low rocking-chair in her own room,
and took off the common shawl and bonnet, which she had used
as a disguise ; then seized her cold nerveless hand.

" Do tell me your great sorrow."

" Something rare nowaday. I had a heurt, a live warm lov-
ing heart, and it is broken ; — dead — utterly dead. Begina I

364

tNFELIOE.

was 80 happy yeaterdaj. Oh! I stood at the very gate of
heaven, so close that all the glory and the sweetness blew
upon me, like June breezes over a rose hedge ; and the angels
seemed to beckon me in. I went to meet Belmont, to join
him forever, to turn my back on the world, and as his wife

pass into the Eden of his love and presence Now,

another gate yawns, and the fiends call me to come down,
and if there really be a hell, why then "

For nearly a moment she remained silent.

" Olga, is he ill ) Is he dead )"

A cry as of one indeed broken-hearted came from her quiv-
ering lips, and she clasped her arms over her head.

" Oh ! if he were indeed dead 1 If I could have seen him
and kissed him in his coffin ! And know that he was still
mine, all mine evei: in the grave "

Her head sank upon her bosom, and after a brief pause she
resumed in an unnaturally calm voice ;

<< My world, so lovely yesterday, has gone to pieces ; and
for me life is a black crumbling ruin. I hung all my hopes,
my prayers, my fondest dreams on one shining silver thread of
trust — and it snapped — and all fall together. We ask for fish,
and are e^ung by scorpions; we pray for bread, only bare
bread for famishing hearts, and we are stoned. Ah ! it appears
only a hideous dream ; but I know it is awfully, horribly true."

" What is true 1 Don't keep me in suiipense."

Olga bent forward, put her large hands on Regina's shoulders,
as the latter knelt in front of her, and answered drearily :

" He is married."

"Not Mr. Egglestonl"

" Yes — my Belmont. For so many years he has been en-
tirely mine, and oh ! how I loved him ! Now he is that woman's
husband. Bought with her gold. I intended to run away and
marry him ] go with him to Europe, where I should never see
Erie Palma's cold, devilish black eyes again, where in some
humble little home, hid among the mountains, I could be happy
with my darling. I sold my jewelry, even my richest clothing,
that I might have a little money to defray expenses. Then I
wrote Belmont of my plans, told him I had forsaken every-
thing for him, and appointed a place in this city where we could
meet. I hastened down from Albany, disguised myself, and
went to the place of rendezvous. After waiting a long time,
his oousin came, brought me a letter — showed me the mai'riage

;ate of
i blew
angels
o join
1b wife
Now,
down,

quiv-

n him
I still

le sLe

; and
lopes,
tad of
' fish,
bare
pears
rue."

ders,

en-
lan's
and

see
ome

ppy

ing,
n I
dry-
uld
md
me,
age

INFBLIQIL

865

• \

notice. Only two days ago they — Belmont and that woman^
were married — and they sailed for Europe at noon today in the
steamer upon which I had expected to go as a bride. He wrote
that with faUing health, penury staring him in the face, and
despairing at last of being able to 'win me, he had grown reck-
less, and sold himself to that wealthy widow, who had long
loved him, and who would provide generously for his helpless
mother. He said he dared not trust himself to see me again — .
And so, all is over forever."

She dropped her head on her cinched hands, and shuddered.

" Dear Olga he was not worthy of you, or he never would
have deserted you. If he truly loved you, he never could have
married another, for"

She paused, for the shimmer of the diamonds on her hands
accused her. Was she not contemplating similar treachery 1
Loving one man, how dare she entertain the thought of listen-
ing to another's suit. She was deeply and sincerely attached
to Douglass, she reverenced him more than any living being ;
but she knew it was not the same feeling her heart had declared
for her guardian, and she felt condemned by her own words.

Olga made an impatient motion, and answered :

'* Hush — ^not a word against him ; none shall dishonour him.
He was maddened — desperate. My poir darling ! ITrle Palma
and mamma were too much for us, but we shall conquei at last.
Belmont will not live many months; he had a hemorrhage
from his lungs last week, and in a little while we shall be
united. He will not long wait to join me."

She leaned back and smiled triumphantly, and Regina be-
came uneasy as she noted the unnatural expression of her eyes.

*' What do you mean, Olga ) You make me unhappy, and I
am afraid you are ill."

" No, dear — but I am tired. So tired of everything in this
hollow, heartless, shameful world, and I want to lie down and
rest. For eight years nearly, I have leaned on one hope for
comfort ; now it has crumbled under me, and I have no strength.
Will you let me sleep here with you to-night \ I will not keep
you awake."

" Let me help you to undress. You know I shall be glad to
have you here."

Kegina unbuttoned her shoes, and began to draw them ofT,
while Olga mechanically took down and twisted her weighty
hail*. Once she put her hand on her pocket, and her eyes glit-
tered.

366

lyFBLTCK

** I want a glass of wine, o * anything that will tjuiet me.
Please go down to the dining-room, and get me something to
put me to sleep. My head feels as if it were on fire."

The tone was so unusually coaxing, that Begina's suspicions
were aroused.

" I don't know where to find the key of the wine closet."

"Then wake Octave, and tell him to give you some wine.
He keeps port and madeira for soups and sauces. You must.
I would do as much for you. I will go to Octave."

She attempted to rise, but Regina feigned acquiescence, and
left the room, closing the do(»', but leaving a crevice. Outside,
■he knelt down and peeped through the key-hole.

Alarmed by the unnatural expression of the fiery hazel eyes,
a horrible dread overshadowed her, and she trembled from
head to foot.

While she watched, Olga rose, turned her head and listened
intently ; then she draw something from her pocket, and Regina
saw that it was a glass vial.

** I win at last. To-morrow, mamma and her stepson will
net' exult over their victory. If I have an immortal soul,
may Qod — my Maker and Judge, have mercy upon me i"

She drew out the cork with her teeth, turned, and as she
lifted the vial to her lips, Regina ran in and seized her arm.

" Olga you are mad ! Would you murder youraelf 1 "

They grappled 1 Olga was much taller and now desperately
strong, but luckily Regina had her fingers also on the glass,
and dragging down the hand that clenched it, the vial was in-
verted, and a portion of the contents fell upon the carpet.

Feeling the liquid run through her fingers, Olga uttered a
cry of baffled rage and despair, and struck the girl a heavy
blow in the face, that made her stagger ; but almost frantic
with terror Regina improved the opportunity afforded by the
withdrawal of one of the large hands, to tighten her own grasp,
and in the renewed struggle succeeded in wrenching away the
vial. The next instant she hurled it against the marble mantle
piece, and saw it splintered into numberless fragments.

As the wretched woman watched the fluid oozing over the
hearth, she cried out, and covered her face with her hands.

" Dear Olga, you are delirious, and don't know what you are
doing. Go to bed, and when you lie down, I will get the wine
for you. Please, dear Olga ! You wring my heart."

** Oh you call yourself my friend — and you have been most

INFSLIOE.

867

cruel of all I You kept me from going to a rest that would
have no dreams — and no waking — and no to-morrow. Do .you
think I will live and let them taunt me with my folly, my
failure 1 Let that iron fiend show his white teeth, and triumph
over me ? People will know I sold my clothes, and tried to
run away, and was — forsaken. Oh t if you had only let me
alone ! I should very soon have been so quiet ; out of even
Erie Falma's way ! Now"

She gave utterance to a low distressing wail, and rocked her-
self, murmuring some incoherent words.

" Olga, your mother has come, and unless you wish her to
hear you, and come in, do try to compose yourself."

Shuddering at the mention of her mother, she grew silent,
moody, and suffered Regina to undress her. Ai'ter a long
while, during which she appeared absolutely deaf to all appeals,
she rose, smiled strangely, and threw herself across the bed ;
but the eyes were beginning to sparkle, and now and then she
laughed almost hysterically.

When an hour had passed, and no sound came from the pros-
trate figure, Regina leaned over to look at her, and discovered
that she was whispering rapidly some unintelligible words.

Once she started up exclaiming :

" Don't have such a hot fire 1 My head is scorching."

Regina watched her anxiously, softly stroking one of her
hands, tr3dng to soothe her to sleep; but after two o'clock,
when she grew more restless and incoherent in her muttering,
the young nurse felt assured she was sinking into delirium, and
decided to consult Mrs. Falma.

Concealing the shawl and bonnet, and gathering up the most
conspicuous fragments of glass on the hearth, she put them out
of sight, and hurried to Mi's. Palma's room.

She was astonished to find her still awake, sitting before a
table, and holding a note in her hand.

" What is the matter, Regina 1 "

" Olga has come home, and I fear she is very ill. Certainly
she is delirious."

" Oh ! then she has heard it already ! She must have seen
the paper. I knew nothing of it until to-night, when Erie's
hasty note from Philadelphia i*eached mc, after I left the opera.
I dreaded the effect upon my poor, iinfortunate child. Where
is she % "

" In my room."

368

INFELIOE.

•>■!?■:

CHAPTER XXVIL

^UltlNG the protracted illness that ensued. Olga tempo
rarily lost the pressure of the burden she had borne for
so many years, and entered into that Eden which her
imagination had painted, ere the sudden crash and demo-
lition of her Chateaux en Bapagne. Her delirium was
never violent and raving, but took the subdued form of abeati-
fied existence. In a low voice, that was almost a whisper, she
babbled ceaselessly of her supreme satisfaction in gaining the
goal of all her hopes, and dwelt upon the beauty of her ch&Iet
home, the tinkling music of the bells on distant heights where
cattle browsed — ^the leaping of mountain torrents just beyond
her window — ^the cooing of the pigeons upon the tall peaked
roof — the breath of mignonette and violets stealing through the
open door. When pounded ice was laid upon her head, an
avalanche was sliding down, and the snow saluted her in pass-
ing ; and when the physician ordered more light admitted that
he might examine the unnaturally glowing eyes, she complained
that the sun was setting upon a glacier and the blaze blinded
her. Now she sat on a mossy knoll beside Belmont, reading
aloud Buchanan's " Pan," and " The Siren," while he sketched
the ghyll ; and anon she paused in her recitation of favourite
passages, to watch the colours deepen on the canvas.

From the beginning Dr. Suydham had pronounced the case
peculiarly difficult and dangerous, and as the days wore on
bringing no abatement of cerebral excitement, he expressed the
opinion that some terrible shock had produced the aberration
that baffled his skill, and threatened to permanently disorder
her faculties.

Jealously Regina concealed all that had occurred on the
evening 'f her return, and though Mrs. Palma briefly referred
to her daughter's unfortunate attachment to an unworthy man,
whose marriage had painfully startled her, she remained un-
aware of the revelations made by Olga. Although she evinced
no recognition of those about her, the latter shrank from all
save Regina, whose tender ministrations were peculiarly sooth-
ing ; and clinging to the girl's hand, she would smilingly talk

ion
ler

^•J*K

INFELICB.

869

of the peace and happiness reaped at last, by her marriage with
Belmont Eggleston, and enjoin upon her the necessity of pre-
serving from "Mamma and Erie Palma,"the secret of her
secluded little cottage home.

On the fourth night, Mrs. Palma was so prostrated by grief
and watching, that she succumbed to a violent nervous head-
ache, and was ordered out of the room by the physician, who
requested that Kegina might for a few hours be entrusted with
the care of his patient.

" But if an3rthing should 'happen) And Begina is so inex-
perienced?" sobbed the unhappy mother, bending over her
child, who was laughing at the gambols of some young chamois,
which delirium painted on the wall.

" Miss Orme will at least obey my orders. She is watchful
and possesses unusual self-control, which you, my dear madam,
utterly lack in a sick-room. Beside, Olga yields more readily
to her, than to any one else, and I prefer that Miss Orme
should have the care of her. Go to bed, Madam, and I will
send you an anodyne that will compose you,"

" If any change occurs, you will call me instantly 1"

" You may rest assured, I shall."

Mrs. Palma leaned over her daughter, and as her tears fell
on the burning face of the sufferer, the latter put up her hands,
and said :

" Belmont, it is raining, and your picture will be ruined, and
then mamma will ridicule your failure. Cover it quick."

" Olga, my darling, kiss mamma good-night."

But she was busy trying to shield the imaginary painting
with one of the pillows, and began in a quavering voice to sing
Longfellow's " Rainy Day." Her mother pressed her lips to
the hot cheek, but she seemed unconscious of the caress, and
weeping bitterly, Mrs. Palma left the room. As she passed
into the hall, a cry escaped her, and the broken words :

" Oh Erie, I thought you would never come ! My poor
child !"

Dr. Suydam closed the door, and drawing Hegina to the win-
dow, proceeded to question her closely, and to instruct her con-
cerning the course of treatment he desired to puraue. Should
Olga's pulse sink to a certain stage, specified doses must be
given; and in a possible condition of the patient, he must be
inc^^antly notified.

<'I am glad to find Mr. Palma has returned. Though he

'lje0

370

INFELICE.

•'JMpK

knows no more than a judge's gavel of what is needful in a
3ick-room, he will be a support and comfort to all, and his
nerves never flag, never waver. Keep a written record of
Olga's condition at the hours I have specified, and shut her
mother out of the room as much as possible. I will try to put
her to sleep for the next twelve hours, and by that time we
shall know the result. Good-night."

Olga had violently opposed the removal from Btegina's room,
and in accordance with her wishes, she had remained where
her weary whirling brain first rested, on the night of her
return. Arranging the medicine and glasses, and turning
down the light, Regina put on her pale blue dressing-gown
gii'ded at the waist by a cord and tassel, and loosely twisted
and fastened her hair in a large coil low on her head and neck.
She had slept none since Olga came home, and anxiety and
fatigue had left unmistakable traces on her pale, sad face. The
letter to her mother had been finished and signed, but still lay
in the drawer of her portable writing desk, awaiting envelope
and stamp; and so oppressed had she been by sympathy with
Olga's great sufierin^, that for a time her own grief was forgot-
ten, or at least put afiide.

The announcement of Mr. Palma's return vividly recalled all
that beclouded her future, and she began to dread the morrow
that would subject her to his merciless bright eyes, feeling that
his presence was dang*^ rous. Perhaps by careful manoeuvring
she might screen her jlf in the sick-room for several days, and
thus avoid the chance of an interview, which must result in an
inquiry concerning her answer to Mr. Lindsay's letter. Fearful
of her own treacherous heart, she was unwilling to discuss her
decision, until assured she had grown calm and firm, from con-
tinued contemplation of her future lot ; moreover her guardian
would probably return from Washington an accepted lover, and
she shrank from the spectacle of his happiness, as from glow-
ing ploughshares — lying scarlet in her pathway. In this room
she would ensconce herself, and should he send for her, various
excuses might be devised, to delay the unwelcome interview.

Olga had grown more quiet, and for nearly an hour after the
doctor's departure she only now and then resumed her ram-
bling incoherent monologue. Sitting beside the bed, Begina
watched quietly until the clock struck twelve, and she coaxed
the sufferci- to take a spoonful of a sedative from which the
physician hoped much benefit. She bathed the crimson cheeks

:jRpK

INFELICE.

371

with a cloth dipped in ice water, and all the while the hazel
eyes watched her suspiciously. Other reflections began to colour
her vision, and the happy phase was merging into one of terror,
lest her lover should die, or be torn away from her. Leaning
over her, Begina endeavoured to compose her by assurances that
Belmont was well and safe, but restlessly she tossed from side
to side.

At last, she began to cry — softly at first, like a fretful, weary
child ; and while Regina held her hands, essaying to soothe
her, a shadow glided between the gas globe and the bed, and
Mr. Palma stood beside the two. He looked pale, anxious and
troubled, as his eyes rested sorrowfully on the fevered face
upon the pillow, and he saw that the luxuriant hair had been
closely clipped, to facilitate applications, to relieve the brain.
The parched lips were browned and cracked, and the vacant
stare in the eyes told him that consciousness was still a long
way oflf.

But was there even then a magnetic recognition, dim and
vague, of the person whom she regarded as the inveterate
enemy of her happiness 1 Cowering among the bedclothes, she
trembled and said, in a husky, yet audible whisper :

" Will you hide us a little while 1 Belmont and I will soon
sail, and t£ Erie Palma and mamma knew it, they would tear
me from my darling, and chain me to Silas Congreve — and that
would kill me. Oh ! I only want my darling, not the Con-
greve emeralds, only my Belmoni, iny darling."

Something that in any other mar., would have been a groan,
came from the lawyer's graiiite lipr , mo xlegina, who shivered
at his presence, looked up and sai/l hastily :

" Please go away, Mr. Palma ; the sight of you will make
her worse."

He only folded his arms ovtjr his chest, sighed, and sat down,
keeping his eyes fixed on Olga. It was one o'clock before she
ceased her passionate pleading for protection from those whom
she believed intent upon sacridcing her, and then turning her
face to the wall she became silent, only occasionally muttering
rapid indistinct sentences.

For some time Mr. Palma sat with his qV ow on his knee,
and his head resting on his hand, and even in that hour of deep
anxiety and dread, Regina realized tliat t-lie was completely
forgotten ; that he had neither looked ut, nor spoken to hor.

Nearly a half hour passed thus, and his gaze had never wui)-

372

JNFELIOE.

dered from the restless sufferer on the bed, when Regina rose
and renewed the cold cloths on her forehead. She counted the
pulse, and while she still sat on the edge of the bed, Olga half
rose, threw herself forward with her head in Regina's lap, and
one arm clasped around her. Softly the girl motioned to her
guardian to place the bowl of iced water within her reach, and
dipping her left hand in the water, she stole her fingers lightly
across the burning brow. Olga became quiet, and by degrees
the lids drooped over the inflamed eyes. Patiently Regina
continued her gentle cool touches, and at last she was rewarded
by seeing the sufferer sink into the first sleep that had blessed
her during her illness.

Fearing to move even an inch lest she should arouse her,
and knowing the physician's anxiety to secure repose, the slight
figure sat like a statue, supporting the head and shoulders of
the sleeper. The clock ticked on, and no other sound was
audible, save a sigh from Mr. Palma, and the heavy breathing
of Olga. The former was leaning back in his chair, with his
arms crossed, and though Regina avoided looking at him, she
knew from the shimmer of his glasses, that his eyes were turned
upon her. Gradually the room grew cold, and she raised her
hand and pointed to a large shawl lying on a chair within his
reach. Very warily the two spread it lightly over the arms
and shoulders, without disturbing the sleeper. One arm was
clasped about Regina's waist, and the flushed face was pressed
against her side.

So they watched until three o'clock, and ^^hen Mr. Palma
saw that the girl was wearied by the constrained, uncomfort-
able position. He had been studying the colourless, mournful
features that were as regular and white as if fashioned in Pen-
telicus, and noted that the heavy hair coiled low at the back of
the head, gave a singularly graceful outline to the whole. She
kept her eyes bent upon the face in her lap, and the beautiful
lashes and snowy lids drooped over their blue depths. He
knew from the paling of her lips that she was faint and tired,
but he realized that she could be relieved only by the sacrifice
of that sound slumber, upon which Olga's welfare Avas so de-
pendent. If she stiiTed even a muscle, the sleaj^jer might awake
to renewed delirium.

The next hour seemed the longest he had ever spent, and
several times he looked at his watch, hoping the clock ti lag-
card. To Regina the vigil was inexpressibly trying, and sitting

INFELIOE.

373

Lnd

■ag-
ing

there three feet from her guardian, she dared not lift her gaze
to the countenance that was so dear.

At four o'clock he took a pUlow and lounge cushion, and
placed them behind her as a support for her wearied frame,
but she dared not lean against them sufficiently to find relief ;
and stooping, he put his arm around her shoulder, and pressed
her head against him. Laying his cheek on hers, he whispered
very cautiously, for his lips touched her ear :

" I am afraid you feel very faint ; you look so. Can you
bear it a little while longer ) "

His breath swept warm across her uulu cheek, and she hastily
inclined her head. He lowered Lis arm, but remained close
beside her, and at last she beckoned to him to bend down, and
whispered :

'^ The fire ought to be renewed in the furnace ; will you go
down, and attend to it 1 "

Shod in his velvet slippers, he noiselessly left the room.

How long he was absent, she was unable to determine, for
her heart was beating madly from the pressure of his cheek,
and the momentary touch of his arm j and gazing at the ring
on her finger, she fiercely upbraided lierself for this sinful folly.
Wearing that opal, was it not unwomanly and wicked to thrill
at the contact with one who never could be more than her
coolly kind, prudent, sagacious guardian % She felt numb, sick,
giddy, and her heart — ah ! how it ached as she tried to realize
fully that some day he w^^uld caress Mrs. Carew?

Olga slept heavily, and irhen Mr. Palma returned, he brought
his warm scarlet-lined dresniug-gown, and softly laid it around
Regina's shoulders. She looked up to express her thanks, but
he was watching Olga's fiice, and soon after walked to the
mantelpiece and stood let>.ning with his elbow upon it.

At last the slumberer moaned, turned, and after a few rest-
less movements, threw herself back on the bolster, and fell
asleep once more, with disjointed words dying on her lips. It
was five o'clock, and Mr. Palma beckoned Kegina to him.

" She will be better when she wakes. Go to her room, and
go to sleep. I will watch her until her mother comes in."

" I could not sleep, and am unwilling to leave her until the
doctor arrives."

" You look utterly exhausted."

" I am stronger than I seem.

'' Mrs. Palma tells me that you have been made acquainted

374

INFELICB.

with the unfortunate infatuation which has overshadowed poor
Olga's life for some years at least. I should be glad to know
what you have learned."

"All that was communicated to me on the subject, was
under the seal of confidence, and I hope you will excuse me, if
I decline to betray the trust reposed in me."

" Do you suppose I am ignorant of what has recently oc-
curred 1 "

" At least, Sir, I shall not recapitulate what passed between
Olga and myself."

" Yon are aware that she considers me the author of all her
wretchedness."

" She certainly regards your and Mrs. Palma's opposition
to her marriage with Mr. Eggleston as the greatest misfortune
of her life."

" He is utterly unworthy of her affection ; is an unscrupu-
lous, dissipated man ; and it were better she should die to-day,
rather than have wrecked her future by uniting it with his."

" But she loved him so devoutly."

" She was deceived in his character, and refused to listen to
n statement of facts. When slie knows him as he really is, she
will despise him."

" I am afraid not."

"I know her better than you do. Olga id a noble high-
sculed woman, and she will live to thank me for her salvation
from Eggleston. Her marriage with Mr. Congreve must not be
consummated ; I will never permit it in my house."

" She believes you have urged it, have manoeuvred to bring
it to pass, and this has enhanced her bitterness."

" Manoeuvring is beneath me, and I am unjustly accused of
much, for which I am in no degree responsible. Poor Olga has
painted roe an inhuman monster, but her good sense will ere
long acquit me, when this madness has left her and she is once
more amenable to reason."

He walked softly f cross '1?e floor, leaned over the bed, and
for some minutes w&tjjed the sleep*^r, then quietly left the
room.

Drawing his dressi^i^g gown closely around her, Kegina sat
down near the bed side ; and as she felt the pleasant warmth
of the pearl gray merino, and qletected the faint odor of cigar
smoke in its folds, she involuntarily pressed her lips to the gar-
ment, that seenxod almost a part of its owner.

ss^S

-^t^-:

INFELIOB.

370

Day broke clear and cold, and when the sun had risen,
Kegina saw that the fluuh was no longer visible in Olga's face,
and that to deliriam had succeeded stupor.

The physician looked anxious, and changed the medicine, and
he found some difficulty in arousing her sufficiently to admin-
ister it. Mrs. Palma resumed her watch at her daughter's side,
and Dr. Suydam remained several hours, urging the pale young
nurse to take some repose ; but aware that the crisis of the dis-
ease had arrived, the latter could not consent to quit the room
even for a moment. Twice during the day, Mr. Palma came
up from his office and into the dai^kened apartment where life
and death were battling for their prostrate prey ; but he ex-
changed neither word nor glance with his ward, and after brief
consultation with the Doctor, glided noiselessly away.

About seven o'clock Mrs. Palma went down to dinner, leav-
ing Begina alone with the sufferer, and scarcely five minutes
later she heard a low moan from the figure that had not stirred
for many hours.

Brightening the light, sho peered cautiously at the face lying
upon the pillow, and was l axtXe^ to find the eyes wide open.
Trembling with anxiety she said :

" Are you not better? You have slept long and soundly."

Mournfully the hazel eyes looked at her, and the dry brown
lips quivered.

" I have been awake some time.'*

" Before your mother left ?"

"Yes."

" Dear Olga — is your mind quite clear again 1"

** Terribly clear. I suppose I have been delirious V*

** Yes you have known none of us, for five days. Here drink
this, the Doctor said you must have it, the Ir^tant you waked."

" To keep me from dying % Why should I 1 .ve 1 I remember
everything, so vividly, and while custom nude you all try
to save me, you are obliged to know it would ha /e been better,
more kind and merciful, to have let me die at once. Give me
some water."

After some seconds she wearily put her hand to her head,
and a ghostly smile hovered over her mouth.

" All my hair cut off ? No matter now, Belmont will never
see me again, and I only cared fOj, my glossy looks, because he
was so proud of them. Poor darl ing."

She groaned, knitted her brows, and shut her eyes; and

376

tNFXLICB,

though she did not ipeak again, Regina knew that she lay
wrestling with bitter memories. When her mother came back,
she turned her face toward the wall, and Mrs. Palma eagerly
exclaimed :

" M.J darling— <lo you know me 1 Kiss your mother."
Olga only covered her face with her hands and said wearily :
** Don't touch me yet, mamma. You have broken my heart."
At the expiration of the fifth day of convalescence, Olga was
wrapped in warm shawls and placed on the couch which had
been drawn near the grate where a bright fire burned. Thin
and wan, she lay back on the cushions and pillows, with her
wasted hands drooping listlessly beside her. Moody, and taci-
turn, she refused ail aid from any but Begina, and mercilessly
exacted her continual presence. By day the latter waited upon
and read to her, by night she rested on the same bed, where
the unhappy woman remained for hours awake, and inconsol-
able, dwellmg persistently upon her luckless fate. At Mrs.
Palma's suggestion her step-son had not visited the sick-room
since the recovery of Olga's consciousness ; and being closely
confined to the limits of the apartment, Begina had not seen her
guardian for several days. About three o'clock in the after-
noon, when she had fimshed brushing the short tangled hair,
that clung in auburn rings around the invalid's forehead, Olga
said :

" Bead me the ' Penelope.* *

Begina sat down on a low stool close to the couch, and while
she opened the book and read, Olga's right arm stole over her
shoulder. At the opposite side of the hearth her mother sat,
watching the pair ; and she saw the door open sufficiently to
admit Mr. Palma's head. Quickly she waved him back — with a
warning gesture ; but he shook his head resolutely, advanced a
few steps, and stood in a position which prevented the girl from
discovering his presence. As Begina paused to turn a leaf,
Olga began a broken recitation, grouping passages that suited
her fancy :

"Yea, love, I am alone in all the world,
The paat grows dark upon me where I wait.

• ...••

Behold how I am mocked !

• •••••

They come to me, mere men of hollow clay,
And whisper odious comfort, and upbraid ^
The love that follows thee where'er thou art.

INFELICB, $f1

And they hmve dragged a promise from my lip*
To ohooae a murderer of my love for thee.
To choose at will from out the rest one man
To slay me with hit kissea !"

She groaned, and gently caressing her hand, Regina read on,
and completed the poem.

When she closed the book, Mr. Palma came forward and
stood at the side of the couch, and in his hand he held several
letters. At sight of him a flush mounted to Olga's hollow
cheek, and she put her fingers over her eyes. He quietly laid
one hand on her forehead and said pleadingly :

" Olga, dear sister, if you had died r-^thout becoming recon-
ciled to me, I should never have felt sati. Hed or happy, and I
thank God you have been spared to us ; spared to allow me an
opportunity of explaining some things which, misunderstood,
have caused you to hate me. Regina, let me have this seat a
little whUe, and in a half an hour you and Mrs. Palma can come
back. I wish to talk alone with Olga."

" To gloze over your deeds and machinations, to deny the
dark cowardly work that has stabbed my peace forever 1 No
— no ! The only service you can render me now, is to keep
out of my sight ! Erie Palma, I shall hate you to my dying
hour ; and my only remaining wish, prayer is, that sh^
whom you love — may give her pure hand to another ; that you
may live to see her belong to other arms than yours, even as
you have helped to thrust Belmont from mine ! Oh I thank
Qod ! your cold selfish heart has stirred at last, and I shall
have my revenge, when you come like me— to see the lips you
love, kissed by another, and the hands that were so sacred to
your fond touch, clasped by some other man, wearing the
badge and fetter of his ownership ! When your darling is a
wife, but not yours, then the agony that you have inflicted
on me, will be your portion. Because you love her, as you
never yet loved even yourself, may you lose her forever !"

She had struck off his hand, and while struggling up into a
sitting posture, her eyes kindled, and her voice shook with the
tempest of feeling that broke over her.

Mr. Palma crimsoned, but motioned Mrs. Palma away, and
Begina exclaimed :

*• In her feeble state, this excitement may be fatal. Have you
no mercy, Mr. Palma 1"

" Because I wish to be merciful to her, I desire you will leave
the room." x

»■

878

JNFELICB.

Mrs. Palma seized the girl's hand and drev her hastily away,
and while the two sat on the staircase near the door of the sick-
room, Regina learned from a hurried and fragmentary narra-
tion, that her guardian had for years contributed to the comfort
and maintenance of Mr. Eggleston's mother tnd sister, that
his influence had been exerted to induce a I'riend in Phila-
delphia to purchase the artist's " California Landscape," and
that his persistent opposition to Olga's marriage had been based
upon in<-'ibitable proofs that Mr. Eggleston had deceived her;
had addi tossed three other ladies during the si <^n yeara' clande-
stine correspondence, and had merely trifled with the holiest
feelings of the girl's trusting heart. In conclusion Mrs. Palma
added :

" Erie was too proud to defend himself, and sternly prohib-
ited me from acquainting her with some of his friendly acts.
Even those two helpless Eggleston women do not dream that
their annual contribution of money and fuel comes from him.
He would leave Olga in her prejudice and animosity, did he
not think that a knowledge of all that has occurred might
prove to her how unworthy that man is. She stubbornly per-
sists that my step-son is weary of supporting us, and desires to
force this marriage with Mr. Congreve ; whereas he has
from the beginning assured me he deemed it inexpedient, and
dreaded the result."

" Mrs. Palma, she insists that she will nevery marry anyone
nov/, and int<!nds to join one of the Episcopal Church sister-
lioodii iTi a western city."

* She certainly will not marry Mr. Congreve, for Erie called
upon him, and requested him to release Olga from the engage-
ment, alleging among other reasons, tha': her health was
very much broken, and that she would spend some time in
Europe. This sisterhood scheme, he declares, he will not per-
mit her to accomplish."

Between the two fell a profound silence, and Eegina could
think of nothing but her guardian's flushed, confused counte-
nance, when Olga taxed him with his love for Mrs. Carew.
How deeply his heart must be engaged, when his stem, cold,
non-committal face crimsoned '*-

It seemed a long time since they sat down there — and Be-
dina was growing restless, when the front-door bell rang. The
servant who brought up a telegram addressed to Mr. Palma,
informed Mrs. Palma that Mr. Koscoe was waiting in the
gining-room to see her.

UEasSK'::*

IHFELICB.

379

hastily away,
>r of the sick.
Bntary iiarra-

the comfort.

1 sister, that
nd in Phila-
dscape," and
d been based
Bceived her;
ears' clande-
I the holiest
Mrs. Palma

tTily prohib-
iendly acts,
dream that
B from him.
sity, did he
irred might
jbornly per-
id desires to
>tts he has
edient, and

rry anyone
irch sister-
Erie called
he engage-
Balth was
e time in
1 not per-

fina could
coiinte^
Carew. *

em, cold,

-and Re-
ig. The
'. Palma,
in the

** My dear, knock at the door, and hand this to Erie. I will
come back directly."

She went down stairs, and glad of any pretext to interrupt
an interview which she believed must be torturing to poor
Olga, Regina tapped at the door.

" Come in."

Standing on the threshold, she merely said :

" Here is a telegraphic despatch which may require a reply."

" Come in," repeated Mr. Palma.

Advancing, she saw with amazement, that he was kneeling
close to the couch, with Olga'n hand in his, and his bowed head
close to her face. When sh nched the lounge she found that
Olga was weeping bitterly, Me now and then heavy sobs
convulsed her feeble frame.

" Mr. Paima, do you want t< > throw her back into delirium,
by this cruel excitement) Do go away, and leave us in
peace."

" She will feel far happier after a little while, and tears will
ease her heart. Olga, you have not yet given me your prom-
ise."

" Be patient ! Some day you will learn, perhaps, that though
the idol you worshipped so long has fallen from the niche
where you set it, even the dust is sacred ; and you want no
strange touch to defile it. Oh the love, the confidence, the
idolatry I have so lavishly squandered ! Because it was
wasted, and all — all is lost, can I mourn the less ) "

" At least give me your promise to wait two years, to follow
my advice, to accede to my plan for your futuio."

He wiped the tears from her cheek, and after some hesitation
she said brokenly :

"How can you care at all, what becomes of mef But since
you have saved me from Mr. Congreve, and contrived to con-
ceal the traces of my disguise and flight from Albany, I owe
you something, owe something to your family pride. I will
think over all you wish, and perhaps after a time, I can see
things in a different lights. Now — all is dark, ruined —
utterly "— ■

She wept passionately, hiding her face in her hands ; and
rising, Mr. Palma placed some open letters on the chair beside
her. He walked to the window, opened and read the telegram,
and Regina saw a heavy frown darken his brow. As if ponder-
ing the contents, he stood for more than a minute, then went
to the door, and said from the thieshold :

.r%4

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

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|25

J 22

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i us 12.0

1.8

L25 yiiu 111.6

PhotDgraphic

Sciences

Corporation

^ ^^^

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33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. I45S0

(714) $79-4503

V^o

i9>>

880

INFELICB.

" The papers, Olga, are intended for no eye but jomti. In
reviewing the past, judge me leniently, for had yon been bom
iny own sister, I should have no deeper interest in your welfare.
Henceforth try to trust me as your brother, and I will forgive
gladly all your unjust bitterness and aspersion."

He disappeared, and almost simultaneously Mrs. Palmacame
back and kissed her daughter's forehead.

With a low piteous wail, Olga threw her "vhite hands up
about her mother's neck, and sobbed : —

" Oh mamma ! mamma ! take me to your heart ! Pity me !'

CHAPTER XXVIII.

^INCE the night of Olga's return, Be$rina had token her

meab in the sick-room, gladly availing herself o^; any

pretext for avoiding the dreadful tSte^tSte breakfasts.

On the morning after the painful interview between

Olga and Mr. Palma, the former desired to remove into

her own apartment, and the easy-chair in which she sat was

wheeled carefully to the hearth in her room.

" Come dose to me, dear child."

Olga held her companion for some seconds in a tight embrace,
then kissed her cheek and forehead.

"Patient — true little friend; you saved me from destruction.
How worn and white you look, and I have robbed you so long
of sleep ! When I am stronger, I want to talk to you ; but
to-day I must be alone, must spend it among my de»d hopes,
— sealing the sepulchres. Jean Ingelow tells us of ' a Dead
Year ' ' cased in cedar, and shut in a sacred gloom,' but I
have seven to shroud and bury ; and will the day ever dawn,
when I can truly say ;

* Silent they rest, in solemn salvatory V "

€k> out dear, into the sunshine, you look so weary. Leave me
alone in the cold crypts of memory ; you need not be afraid, I
have no second vial of poison.'!^ \

She seemed so hopeless, and her voice was so indescribably
mournful, that Regina's eyes filled with tears, but Mrs. Palma
just |h<m called her into the hall.

JNFSLIOB.

1^
I

•" Erie says you must pat on yoar hat, wrap up doeely, and
oome down staira. He is waiting to take you to ride."

She had not seen her guardian since he left Olga's sofit the
previous day, and answered without reflection.

<* Ask him to excuse me. I am not. very well, and — ^prefer
remaining in my own room."

From the foot of the stairs, Mr. Palma's voice responded :
" Fresh air will benefit you. I insist upon your coming im-
mediately."

She leaned over the railing — and saw him buttoning his over-
coat.

" Please, Mr. Palma, excuse me to-day."
" Pardon me, I cannot. The carriage is waiting."
She was tempted to rebel outright, to absolutely refuse obedi-
ence to his authority, which threatened her with the dreaded
interview, but a moment'49 reflection taught her that resistance
to his stubborn will was useless, and she went reluctantly down
stairs, forgetting her gloves, in her trepidation. He handed
her into the carriage, took a seat beside her, and directed Farley
to drive to Central Park.

The day, though cold, waa very bright, and he partly lowered
the silk curtains, to shut out the glare of the sun. For a half
hour they rolled along the magnificent Avenue, and only casual
observations upon weather, passing equipages, and similar trivial
topics, aflbrded Regina time to compose her perturbed thoughts.
With his overcoat buttoned tight across his broad chest, and
hat drawn a little low on his brow, Mr. Palma sat, holding his
gloved fingers interlaced ; and his brilliant eyes rested now and
then very searchingly upon the face at his side, which was
almost as white as the snowy far sack that enveloped her.
" What is the matter with your cheek )" he said at length.
« Why do you ask 1" She instantly shielded it with her hand.
" It has a slightly bluish, bruised appearance."
" It is of no consequence, and will soon disappear."
" Olga must indeed have struck you a heavy blow, to leave a
mark that Ung^v so long. She told me how desperately you
wrestled, to stay her suicidal course, and as a fanuly, we owe
you much for your firm brave resistance."

'' I am sorry she has betrayed what parsed. I hopeoi you
would never suspect the distressing facts."

« When a girl deliberately defies parental wishes and counsel,
and scorns the advice and expostulation of those whom experi-

382

INFELTOK

Aloe has taught something of life and the world, hc/r fate —
sooner or later is sad as Olga's. A foolish caprice which young
ladies invariably denominate * love/ but which is generally,
merely flattered vanity, not unfrequeptly wrecks a woman's
entire Ufe; and thougji Olga will rally after a time, she cannot
forget this humiliating epistle, which has blighted the brightest
epoch of her existence. Her rash, blind, obstinacy has cost her
very dear. Here, let us get out ; I want you to walk awhile.

They had entered the Park, and ordering the driver to await
them at a speoified spot, Mr. Palma turned into the Ramble.
For some moments they walked in silence, and finally he point-
ed to a rustic seat somewhat secluded, and beyond the observation
of the few persons strolling through the grounds. Regina sat
with her muff in her lap, and her bare hands nervously toying
with the white silk tasseL Her guardian noticed the tremulous-
nees of her Up, and at that moment, tiie sun smiting the ring on
her finger, kindled the tiny diamonds into a circle of fire. \ Mr.
Palma drew off his gloves, put them in his pocket, and ^ just
touched the opal, saying coldly :

" Is that a recent gift fft>m your mother 1 I never saw you
wear it, until the night you bathed poor Olga's forehead."

"No, sir."

Involuntarily she laid her palm over the jewels that were be-
ginning to grow odious in her own sight.

*' May I inquire how long it has been in your possession T

** Si|ice before I left the Parsonage. I haA it when I came
to New York."

" Why then have you never worn it f '

** What interest can such a trifle possess for you, sir f '

" Sufficient at least to require an answer."

She sat silent.

"Regina."

**I hear you, Mr. Palma."

" Then show me the courtesy of looking at me, when yon
speak. Circumstances have debarred me until now, from re-
ferring to a letter from India, which I gave you before I we^t
to Washington. I presume you are aware iJiat the writer in-
enclosing it to me, acquainted me with ito tenor a^d import.
Will you permit me to read it 1"

** I sent it to my mother — nearly a week ago."

She bed raised her eyes, and looked at him almost defiantly,
nerving herself for the storm tiiat already darkened his coun-
tenance.

INFELICE.

383

you

" Mr. Linclsay very properly informed me that his letter con-
tained an offer of marriage, and though I requested you to de-
fer your answer until my return, I cou?d not of course doubt
that it would prove a positive rejection — since you so earnestly
assured me he could never be more than a brother to you. At
least let me suggest that you clothe the refusal in the kindest
possible terms."

Her face whitened, and she compressed her lips, but her
beautiful eyes became touchingly mournful in their strained
gaze. Mr. Palina took off his glasses, and for the first time in
her life she saw the full, fine bright black eyes, without the
medium of lenses. How they looked down into hers !

She caught her breath, and he smiled.

" My ward must be*frank with her guardian."

« I have been frank with my mother, and since nothing has
been concealed from her, no one else has the right to catechise
me. To her, it is incumbent upon me to confide even the
sacred details to which you allude, and she knows all ; but you
can have no real interest in the matter."

" Pardon me, I have a very deep interest in all that concerns
my ward ; especially when the disposal of her hand is involved.
What answer hav6 you given ' Brother Douglas ' V

As he spoke, he laid lus hand firmly on both of hers, but she
attempted to rise.

*' Oh, Mr. Palma ! Ask me no more, spare me this inqui-
sition. You transcend your authority."

"Sit stilL Answer me frankly. You declined Mr. Lind-
say's offer?"

"No sir!"

She felt his hand suddenly clutch hers, and grow cold.

"LilylLilyl"

The very tone was like a prayer. Presently, he said sternly :

" You must not dare to trifle with me. You cannot intend
to accex>t him ? "

" Mother will determine for me."

Mr. Palma had become very pale, and his glittering teeth
gnawed his lower lip.

" Is your acceptance of that man contingent only on her
consent and approval 1 "

For a moment slie looked away at the bitie heavens bending
.iliovc her, and wond<M-ed if tho sky would blacken, when she
Iisid iiTctrievably coninntted hci-sclf to this union. Tho thought
>vas hourly growing nioio liornblf, ivnd she sliiveiod.

384

I^FELICE.

He stooped c1q«a *« l
your affectioM 3! 7 ^i "^^ <^"sin, by LmJ^-^ u '^®'' ^

"""'^S'Si r ^ ""^"' ^^o '"^ - 1.. ».ilea

INFBLICE.

385

that the Gk>d you reverence, heam your words. Do you really
love Mr. Lindiay t"

'' Yea, he is 80 good, how oan I help feeling attached to him ]"

" You love him next to your mother 1"

"I think I do."

The words cost her a great eifort, and her eyes wandered from
his.

" Look straight at me. You love him so well you wish to be
his wife 1"

** I want to make him happy, if I can."

" No evasions if you please. Answer, yes or no. Is Mr.
Lindsay dearer to you thun all else in the world )"

** Next to mother's, his happiness is dearest to me."

" Yee-s-or no— this time ; is there no one you love better 1"

Earth and sky, trees and rocks seemed whirling into chaos,
lijid she shut her eyes.

" You have no right to question me farther. I will answer
no more."

Was the world really coming to an end 1 She heard her
guardian laugh, and the next moment he Jiad caught her to his
heart. What did it mean? Was she too, growing delirious
with brain fever % Uis arm held her pressed close to his bosom,
and his cheek leaned on her head, while strangely sweet and
low were his words :

« Ah Lily ! Lily ! Hush. Be still."

She^wishedjbhat she could die then and there, for the thought
of Mr. Lindsay sickened her soul. But the memory of the
ring appalled her, and she struggled to free herself.

" Let me go ! Do let us go home. I am sick."

His arm drew her closer still.

" Be quiet, and let me talk to you, and remember I am your
guardian. Lily, I am afraid you aire tempted to stray into dan-
gerous paths, and your tender little heart is not a safe counsel-
lor. You are sincerely attached to your old friend, you trust
and honour him, you are very grateful to him for years of kindness
during your childhood ; and now when his health has failed,
and he appeals to you to repay th<» affection he has so long
given you, gratitude seems to asHume the form of duty, and you
are trying to persuade yourself that you ought to grant his
pi^yer. Lily, love is the only chrism that sanctifies marriage,
and though at present you might consent to become Mr. Lind-
say's wife, suppose that in after yeai-s you should chance to

386

INFBLIOB.

m«et Mme other man, perhaps not so holy, so purely Christian
as this noble youn/3; missionary, but a man who seized, possessed
your deep, deathless womanly love, and who you knew loved
you in return 1 What then V*

" I would still do my duty to my dear Douglass." <

" No doubt you would try. But you would do wrong to
marry your friend, feeling as you do ; and you ought to wait
and ^lly explain to him the nature of your sentiments. You
are almost a child, and scarcely know your own heart yet, and
I, as your guardian, cannot consent to see you rashly forge
fetters, that may possibly gall you in the future. The letter to
your mother has not been forwarded. Hattie, to whom you
entrusted it, did not give it to me until this morning, alleging
in apology that she put it in her pocket, and forgot it I have
reason to believe that in a very short time you will see your
mother ; let this matter rest until you can converse fully with
her, and if she sanctions your decision, I of course shall have no
right to expostulate. lily, I want to see you happy, and^hile
I profoundly respect Mr. Lindsay, who I daresay, is a most
estimable gentleman, J should not very cordially give you away
to him."

She rose and stood before him, clasping her hands tightly
over each other ; tearless, tortured, striving to see the path of
duty.

*' Mr. Palma, if I can only make him happy ! I owe him so
inuoh. When I remember all that he did so ten4erly for years,
and eripecially on that awful night of the storm, I feel that I
ought not to refuse what he asks of me."

" If he knew how you felt, I think I could safely promise for
him, that he would not accept your hand. The heart of the
woman he loves is the boon that a man holds most precious,
lily, you know your inmost heart does not prompt you to
marry Mr. Lindsay."

Did he suspect her secret folly ? The blood that had seemed
to curdle around her aching heart surged into her cheeks,
painting them a vivid rose, and she said hastily :

" Indeed he is very dear to me. He is the noblest man I
ever knew. How could I fail to love him ? "

He took her left hand, and examined the ring.

" You wear this as a pledge of betrothal) Is it not prema-
turtv when your mother is in ignorance of your purpose f Tell
me, my ward, tell me, do you not rather keep it here to stimu-

INFEUOK

387

late your flagging sense of duty t To strengthen yoa to adhere
to your raiih resolve 1

" He wrote that if I had faithfully kept my farewell promise
to him, he wished me to wear it."

" May I know the nature of that promise 1**

" That I would always love him, next to my mother."

''But I think you admitted that possibly you might some
day meet your ideal, who would be dearer even than mother
and Douglass. I do not wish to distress you needlessly, but
while you are under my protection I must unflinchingly do all
that honour demands cf a faithful guardian. I oan permit no
engagement without your mother's approval ; and I honestly
confess to you that I am growing impatient to place you in her
care. Do you still desire your letter forwarded 1"

" If you please."

** Sit down. I have sad news for you."

He unbuttoned his coat, took an envelope from his pocket,
and she recognised the telegram which had arrived the previous
day.

Begina, many guardians would doubtless withhold this, but
fairness and perfect candour have been my rule of life, and I
prefer frankness to diplomacy. This telegraphic dispatch ar-
rived yesterday, and is intended for you, though addressed to
me."

He put it in her hand, and filled with an undefined terror
that chilled her, she read :

'* San Francisco.

" Mr. Eblb Palma : — ^Tell your ward that Douglass is too ill
to travel farther. If she wishes to see him alive she xaust
come immediately. Can't you bring her on at once 1

"Elibe Lindsay.'

The dispatch fluttered to the ground and the girl ir^'u.ned
and bowed her face in her hands. He waited some minutes,
and with a sob, she said :

" Oh let me go to him ! It might be a comfort to him — and
if he should die? Oh do let me go ! "

" Do you think your mother would consent to your taking so
grave a step 1 "

" I do not know, but she would not blame me when she
.learned the circumstances. If I waited to consult her he might
—oh, we are wasting time ! Mr. Palma, pity me ! Send me
to him — ^to the friend who loves me so truly, so devotedly I "

388

INFBLiaS.

She itarted up and wrung her hande, m imagination pictured
the noble friend ill, perhaps dying, and longing to Bee her.

"Begina, compose yourself. That telegram has been de*
layed by an unprecedented fall of snow tiiat interrupts the
operation of the wires, and it is dated three days ago. Last
night I telegraphed to learn Mr. Lindsay's condition, but up to
the time of our leaving home the wires were not working
through to San Francisco ; and the trains on the Union Pacific
are completely snow-bound. The agent told me this morning
that it was uncertain when the can would run throu^^, as the
track is blocked up. Until we ascertain something definite, let
me advise you to withhold your letter, enclosing his; for I
ought to tell you, that I am daily expecting a summons to send
you to Europe. Oome, walk with me, and try to be patient."

He offered her his arm, and they walked for some time in
profound silence. At last she exclaimed passionately:

''' Please let me go home. I want to be alone." \

They finally reached the carriage, and Mr. Palma gave the
coachman directions to drive to the Telegraph Office. During
the ride Begina leaned back, with her face pressed against the
silken curtain on the side, and her eyes closed. Her compan-
ion could see the regular chiselled profile, so delicate and yet
so firm, and as he studied the curves of her beautiful mouth, he
realized that she had fully resolved to fulfil her promise — that
at any cost of personal suffering she would grant the prayer of
the devoted young minister.

Scientists tell us, that *' there are in the mineral world certain
crystals, certain forms, for instance, of fiuor-spar, which have
lain darkly in the earth for ages, but which, nevertheless, have
a potency of light locked up within them. Li th^r case the
potential has never become actual — the light is, in fact, held
back by a molecular detent. When these crystals are warmed
the detent is lifted and an outfiow of light immediately begins."
How often subtle analogies in physical nature whisper inter-
pretations of vexing psychological enigmas f

Was Erie Palma an animated, human fluor-spar ? Had the
latent capacity, the potentiality of tenderness in his character
been suddenly actualized, by the touch of that girl'fi gentle
hands — ^the violet splendour of her large, soft eyes, which lifted
forever the detent of his cold isolating selfishness )

The long hidden light had flashed at last, making his heart
radiant with a supreme happiness which even the blaze of his

INFBLIOt.,

389

towering and suooessful ambition had never kindled ; and to*
day he K>und it difficult indeed to stand aside, with folded arms
and sealed lips, while she reeled upon the brink of an abyss,
which was so wide and deej), that it threatened to bury all his
hopes of that sacred home life, which sooner or later sings its
dangerous siren song in every man's heart.

To his proud, worldly nature, this dream of pure, deep, un-
selfish love, had stolen like the warm, rich, spicy breath of Jvoe
roses — swung unexpectedly over a glacier — bringing the fli sh
and perfume of early summer time to the glittering, blue real mn
of winter ; and he longed inexpressibly to open all his heart to
the sweet sunshine — ^to gather it in — garnering it as his own
forever. How his stern soul clung to that shy, shrinking girl,
who seemed in contrast to the gay, brilliant, self^asserting wo-
men he met in society, as some white marble-lidded Psyche,
standing on her pedestal, amid a group of glowing Venetian
Yenuses 1 He had seen riper complexions, and more rounded
symmetry; and had smiled and bowed at graceful polished
persiflage, more witty than aught that ever crossed her quiet,
daintily carved lips ; but though he had admired many lovely .
women of genius and culture, that pale girl, striving to hide
her grieved countenance against his carriage curtain, was the
only one he had ever desired to call his wife. That any other
man dared hope to win or claim her, seemed sacrilegious ; and
he felt that he would rather see her lying in her coffin than
know that she was profaned by any touch, save his.

Neither spoke, and when the carriage stopped at the Tele-
graph Office, Mr. Palma went in and remained some time. As
he returned, she felt that he hfJd her destiny for all time in his
hands ; and, in after years, he often recalled the despairing,
terrified expression of the face that leaned forward, with parted,
quivering lips, and ey^ that looked a prayer for pity.

" The wires are not yet working fully, but probably messages
will go through during the day. Regina, try to be patient, and
believe that you shall learn the nature of Mrs. Lindsay's .an-
swer as soon as I receive it. Tell Mrs. Palma I shall not come
home to dine, having pressing business at Court, and cannot
tell how long I may be detained at my office. Goodbye. The
dispatch shall be sent to you without delay."

He lifted his hat, closed the carriage door, and motioned to
Farley to drive home.

Locked in her own apartment, Olga denied admittance to even^

300

INFEUOE,

her mother, who improved the opportunity to Muwer a num-
ber of neglected letters, and Regma was left to the seclusion
of her room. As the day wore slowly away, her restlessness
increased, and she paced the floor until her limbs trembled firom
weariness. Deliberately she recalled all the incidents of the
long residence at the Parsonage, and strove to live again the
happy season, during which the young minister had contributed
so largely to her perfect contentment. The white pets they
had tended and caressed together, the books she had read with
him, the favourite passages he had italicized, the songs he loved
best, the flowers he laid upon her breakfast ][^ate, and now and
then twined in her hair ; above all, his loving, persuasive tone,
quiet, gentle words of affectionate counsel, and tender pet name
for her, " my white dove."

How fervent had been his prayer that when he returned, he
might find her " unspotted from the world." Was she 1 Could
she bear to deceive the brave, loyal heart that trusted her so
completely 1

Oiice at church, she had witnessed a marriage, heard the aw-
fully solemn vows that the bride registered in the sight of Gkxi,
and to-day the words flamed like the sword of the avenging
angel, like a menace, a challenge. Would Douglass take her
for his wifof if he knew that Mr. Palma had become dearer to
her than all the world beside 1 Could she deny that his voice
and the touch of his hand on hors, magnetized, thrilled her, as
no one else had power to do 1 She could think without pain,
of Mr. Lindsay selecting some other lady and learning to love
her as his w^e, forgetting the child Regina ; but when she
forced herself to reflect that her guardian would soon be Mrs.
Carew's husband, the torture seemed unendurable.

Unlocking a drawer, she spread before her all the little sou-
venirs Mr. Lindsay had given her. The faded flowers, that
once glowed under the fervid sun of India, the seal and pen,
the blue and gold Tennyson and Whittier, and the pretty copy
of Chiistina Rossetti's poems he had sent from Liverpool. One
by one she read his letters, ending with the last, which Mr.
Palma had laid on her lap, when he left the carriage.

Despite her efforts, above the dear, meek, gentle image of the
consecrated and devout missionaiy towered the stately, proud
form of the brilliant lawyer, with his chilling smile, and haughty
marble brow ; and she knew that he reigned supreme in her
heart. He was not so generous, so noUy self-sacrifioingi so holy

JNFBLIOB,

891

and pious as Mr. Lindsay, nor did she reverence him so entirely ;
but above all else she loved him. Oonscienoe, pride, and
womanly delicacy all clamoured in behalf of the absent but
faithful lover; and the true heart answered: "Away with
sophistry, and gratitude, pitying affection, and sympathy 1 I
am vassal to but one ; give me Erie Palma, my king."

If she married Douglass and he afterward discovered the
truth, could he be happy, could he ever trust her again 1 She
resolved to go to San Francisco, to tell Mr. Lindsay without
reservation all that she felt, withholding only the name of the
man whom she loved best ; and if he could be content with the
little she could give in return for his attachment, then with no
deception flitting like a ghoul between them, she would ask her
mother's permission to dedicate the future to Douglass Lindsay.
She would never see ber guardian again, and when he was mar-
ried it would be sinful even to think of him, and her duties and
new ties must help her to forget him.

Pleading weariness and indisposition, she had absented her-
self from dinner, and when night came, it was upon leaden
Mrings that oppressed her. Feverish and restless she raised the
sash, and though the temperature was freezing outside, she
leaned heavily on the sill and inhaled the air. A distant clock
struck eleven, and she stood looking at the moon that flooded
the Avenue with splendour, and shone like a sheet of silver on
the glass of a window opposite.

Very soon a peculiarly-measured step, slow and firm, rung on
the pavement beneath her, and ere the mu£9ed figure paused at
the door, she recognized her guardian. He entered by means
of a latch-key, and closing the window Eegina sat down and
listened. Her heart beat like a drum, drowning otixer sounds,
and all else was so stUl that after a little while she supposed no
message had been received, and that Mr. Palma had gone to
sleep.

She dreaded to lie down, knowing that her pillow would
prove one not of roses, but thorns. She prayed long and fer-
vently that God would help her to do right under all circum-
stances, would enable her to conquer and govern her wilful
riotous heart, subduing it to the dictates of duty ; and in con-
clusion she begged that the Heavenly Father would spare and
strengthen his feeble, suffering, consecrated minister, spare a
life she would strive to brighten.

Rising from her knees she opened a little illustrated TesU^

993

INFEHOE.

ment Mr. Lindsay had given her on her thirteenth birthday,
and which she was accustomed to read every night. The four-
teenth chapter of St. John happened to meet her eye.

" Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid, ye
believe in God — believe also in Me." Just then she heard a
low cautious tap upon her door. Her heart stood still, she felt
paralyzed, but found voice to say hoarsely :

" Come in." * k

The door was partly opened, but no one entered, and she
went forward to the threshold. Mr. Palma was standing out-
side, with his face averted, and in his outstretched hand she saw
the well-known telegraphic envelope, which always arouses a
thrill of dread — bearing so frequently the bolt of destruction
into tranquil household^. Shaking li^e aspens when the west
wind blows, she took it.

"Tell me, is he better r

Mr. Palma turned, gave one swift pitying glance at her
agonized face, and as if unable to endure the sight, walked
quickly away. She shut the door, stood a moment — spell-bound
by dread, then held the sheet to the light.

" San Franoisoo.

" Mb. Erlb Palma : — My Doui^lass died last night.

" ElISE LiNOSAT."

" Though Duty's face is stem, her path is best ;
They sweetly sleep who die upou her breast."

r
11

CHAPTER XXIX.

I OUR bed is untouched, you did not undress ! Why did
you sit up all night, and alone V*

" Because I knew it was folly to attempt to sleep ;
and to watch the bay and the beauty of the night was
less wearying than to toss on a pillow — staring at the
ceiling. Mrs. Waul, what brings you in so early 1"

" A package of letters which must have arrived yesterday,
but William only received them a few minutes since. Mrs.
Orme,. will you have your coffee now V

" After a little while. Have everything in order, to leave at
a moment's notice, for I may not return hero from Fnstntn.
Give me the letttnu"

INFSUOB,

898

Mrs. OmM tossed back her hair which had been unboimd,
and as the letters were placed in her hand, she seemed almost
to forget thorn, so abstracted was the expression with which her
eyes rested on the dancing waves of the Bay of Naples. The
noise of tho door dosing behind Mrs. Waul seemed to arouse
her, and glancing at the letters, she opened one from Mr. PaUna.

The long and harrowing vigil which had lasted from the
moment of bidding Gen. Laurance good-night, on the previous
evening, had lefb its weary traces in tiie beautiful face j but rigid
resolution had also set its stem seal on the compressed mouth,
and the eyes were relentless as those of Irene, waiting for the
awfal consummation in the Prophyry chamber at Byzantium.

The spirit of revenge had effectually banished all the purer,
holier emotions of her nature ; and the hope of an overwhelm-
ing Nemesis beckoned her to a fearful sacrifice of womanly
sensibility, but just now, nothing seemed too sacred to be im-
molated upon the altar of her implacable Hate. To stab the
hearts of those who had ¥rronged her, she gladly subjected her
own to the fiery ordeal of a merely nominid marriage with her
husband's father, resolving that her triumph should be complete.
Originally gentle, loving, yielding in nature, injustice and ad-
vendty had gradually petrified her character ; yet beneath the
rigid exterior flowed a lava tide, that now and then overflowed
its stony barriers, and threatened irremediable ruin.

Fully resolved upon the revolting schema which pronused
{funishment to the family of Laurance, and

" Self-gaided with torn strips of hope,"

she opened the New York letter.

The first few lines riveted her attention. She sat erect,
leaned forward, with eyes wide and strained, and gradually rose
to her feet, clutching the letter, until her fingers grew purple.
As she hurried on, breathing like one whose everlasting destiny
is being laid in the balance, a marvellous change overspread
her countenanca The blood glowed in lip and cheek, the wild
aparkle sank, extinguished in the tears that filled her eyes, the
hardness melted away ftt>m the resolute features, and at last a
cry like that of some doomed spirit suddenly snatched from the
horrors of perdition and set forever at rest upon meads oi
Asphodel and Amalranth, rolled through the room.

After so many years of reckless hopelessness, the transition
was overpowering, and the miserable wife and mother resoued

i: ^

\ Y

\ \

INFBLIOS.

upon the extreme verge of utter lifelong i*uin, fell forward upon
her knees, sobbing and laughing alternately.

From the hour when she learned of her husband's second
marriage, she had ceased to pray, abandoning herself completely
to the cynicism and vindictiveness that overflowed her soul like
a wave of Phlegethon ; but now the fountain of gratitude was
unsealed, and sne poured out a vehement, passionate thanks-
giving to God. Alternately praying, weeping, smiling, she
knelt there, now and then re-reading portions of the letters, to
assure herself that it was not a mere blessed dream, and at
length when the strain relaxed, she dropped her head on a
chair, and like- a spent feeble child, cried heartily, unrestrain-
edly*

Mr. Palma wrote that after years of fhiitless effort he had
succeeded in obtaining from Peleg Peterson a full retraction
of the charges made against her name, whereby Gen. Laurance
had prevented a suit against his son. Peterson had made an
affidavit of certain facts which nobly exonerated her from the
heinous imputations with which she was threatened, should she
attempt legal redress for her wrongs, and which proved that
the defence upon which Gen. Laurance< relied was the result of
perjury and bribery.

In addition to the recantation of Peterson, Mr. Palma com-
municAted the joyful intelligence that G«rbert Audr^; who was
believed to have been lost off the Labrador coast fifteen years
before, had been discovered in Washington, where he was
occupying a clerical desk in one of the departments ; and that
he had furnished conclusive testimony as a witness of the mar-
riage, and a friend of Cuthbert Laurance.

The lawyer had carefully gathered all the necessary links ot
evidence, and was prepared to bring suit against Cuthbert Lau-
rance, for desertion and bigamy ; assuring the long-suffering
wife, that her name and life would be nobly vindicated.

Within his letter, was one addressed to Mrs. Orme by Peleg
Peterson, and a portion of the scrawl was heavily underlined.

" For all that I have revealed to Mr. Palma, and solemnly
sworn to, for this clearing of your reputation, you may thank your
child. But for her, I should never have declared the truth ;
would have gone down to the grave, leaving a bldt upon you ;
for my conscience is too dead to trouble me, and I hate you,
Minnie ! Hate you for the wreck you helped to make of me.
But that girl's white angel face touched me, when she said —

INPBLICS.

395

(and I knew she meant it,) " If I find from mother that you
are indeed my father, then I will do my duty. I will take your
hand, I will own you my father, face the world's contempt, and
we will bear our disgrace together as best we may ! She would
have done it at all risk, and I have pitied her. It is to clear
her, and give her the name she is entitled to, that at last I have
spoken the truth. She is a noble brave girl, too good for you,
too good for her father ; far too good to own Ren6 Laurance
for her grandfather. When he sees the child he paid me to
claim, he will not need my oath to satisfy him, that in body,
she is every inch a Laurance ; but where she got her white soul
€k>d only knows, certainly it is neither Merle nor Laurance.
You owe your salvation to your sweet, brave child, and have no
cause to thank me, for I shall always hate you."

Had some ministering Angel removed from her hand the
hemlock of that loathsome vengeance she had contemplated,
and substituted the nectar of hope and joy, the renewal of a life
oiclouded by the dread of disgrace that had hung over her like
a pall, for seventeen years 1 When gathering her garments
about her to plunge into a dark gulf replete with seething hor-
ror, a strong hand had lifted her away from the fatal ledge, and
she heard the voice of her youth calling her to the almost for-
gotten vale of peace ; while supreme among the thronging
visions of joy, gleamed the fair face of her blue-eyed daughter.
Had she been utterly mad, in resolving to stain her own pure
hand by the touch of Ren^ Laurance %

In the light of retrospection the unnatural and monstrous
deed she had contemplated, seemed fraught with a horror
scarcely inferior to that which lends such lurid lustre to the
" CEIdipus f and now she cowered in shame and loathing as she
reflected upon all that she had deliberately arranged while sit-
ting upon the terrace of the Villa Beale. Could the unbridled
thirst for revenge have dragged her on into a monomania t. '
would finally have ended in downright madness 1 Once no^
inally the wife of the man whom she so thoroughly abhorred,
would not reason have fied before the horrors to which she
linked herself? The rebellious bitterness of her soul melted
away, and a fervent gratitude to Heaven fell like dew upon
her arid stony heart, waking words of penitence and praise to
which her lips had long been strangers.

Adversity in the guise of human injustice and wrong gener-
ally indurates and embitters; and the chastisements that chasten

I ,

396

INFELIOS.

who

are those which come directly from the hand of Him
doeth all things well"

When Mrs. Waul came back, Mrs. Orme was still kneeling,
with her face hidden in her arms, and the letters lying beside
her. Laying her wrinkled hand on the golden hair, the faithful
old woman asked :

** Did you hear from your baby V*

*' Oh ! I have good news that will make me happy as long as
I live. I shall soon see my child, and soon, very soon, all will
be clear. Just now I cannot explain ; but thank €k)d for me
that these letters came safely."

She rose, put back her hair, and rapidly glanced over two
other letters, then walked to and fro, pondering the contents.

« Where is Mr. Waul r

** Reading the papers in our room."

" Ask him to come to me at once."

She went to her desk, and wrote to €^en. Lanranoe that letters
received after their last interview compelled her to hasteii to
Paris, whither she had been recalled by a summons from the
manager of the Theatre. She had determined in accordanoe
with his own earnestly expressed wishes, that from the day when
the world knew her as Mnr. Laurance, it should behold her no
more upon the stage ; consequently she wou]4 hasten the ar-
rangements for the presentotion of her own play " Ir^felice" and
after he had witnessed her rendition of the new rSUy she would
confer with him regarding the day appointed for the celebration
of their marriage. Until then, she positively declined seeing
him, but enclosed a tress of her golden hair, and begged to hear
from him frequently ; adding directions that would insure the
reception of his letters. Concluding: — ^'Odille Orme, hoping
by the grace of God, soon to subscribe myself Laurance."

"Mr. Waul, I have unexpectedly altered my entire pro-
gramme, and instead of going to Psrotum, must start at once to
Paris. This fortunately, is Tttesdayf and the French steamer
sails for Marseilles at three o'clock. Go down at once, and
arrange for our passage^ and be carefrd to let no one know by
what route I leave Naples. On your way, call at the Telegraph
Office and see that this despatch is forwarded promptly, and do
send me a close carriage immediately. I - wish to avoid an
unpleasant engagement, and shall drive to Torre del Greco,
returning in time to meet you at the steamer, instead of at this
house. See that the baggage leaves here only time enough to

INFBUCB.

907

be pufc aboard by three o'clock, and I shall not fail to join you
there. When Qeneral Laurance calls, Mrs. Waul will instruct
the servant to hand him this note, with the information that I
have gone for a farewell drive around Naples."

Hurriedly completing her preparations, she entered the car-
riage, and was soon borne idong the incomparably beautiful
road that skirts the graceful curves of the Bay of Naples. But
the glory of the sky, and the legendary charms of the pictures-
que scenery that surrounded her appealed in vain to senses that
were wrapt in the light of other days, that listened only to the
new canticle which hope, long dumb, was now singing through
all the sunny chambers of her heart.

Returning again and again to the perusal of the letters, to
assure herself that no contingency could arise to defraud her of
her long-delayed recognition, she felt that the galling load of
half her life had suddenly slipped &om her weary t^ioulders,
and the world and the future wore that magic radiance which
greeted Miriam, as singing, she loob»d back upon the destruc-
tion escaped, and on toward the redeemed inheritance awniting
her,

Beunion with her child, and the triumphant establishment of
her unsullied parentage, glowed as the silver stars in her new
sky ; while a baleful lurid haze surrounded the thought of that
dire punishment she was enabled to inflict upon the men who
had trampled her prayers beneath their iron heels.

She recalled the image of the swarthy, supercilious, be-dia-
monded woman who sat that memorable night in the minister's
box, claiming as husband the handsome listless man at her side ;
and as she pictured the dismay which would follow the sudden
rending of the name of Laurance from the banker's daughter
and her helpless child, Mrs. Orme laughed aloud.

Slowly the day wore on, and €ton. laurance failed to call at
the appointed hour, to arrange the preliminaries of his marriage.
His servant brought a note, which Mrs. Orme read when i^e
reached the steamer, informing her that sudden and severe indis-
position confined him to his bed, and requesting an interview
on the ensuing morning. Mrs. Waul had received the note,
and despatched in return that given her by her mistress.

In the magical glow of that cloudless golden afternoon, Mrs.
Orme saw the outlines of St. Elmo fade away, Capri vanish like
a purple mist, Isdiia and Procida melt insensibly into the blue
of the marvellous bay ; and watching the spaik which trembled

398

ZNFBLICS.

on the distant summit of Vesuvius, like the dying ^e of that
cruel destiny from which she fled, the rescued happy woman
exulted in the belief that she was at last sailing through serene
seas.

Dreaming of her child, whose pure image hovered in fcht'
mirage hope wove before her

*' She seemed all earthly matters to forget,
Of all tonnenting lines her face was <uear,
Her wide brown eyes npon the goal were set.
Calm and unmoved as tnough no foe were near."

CHAPTEB XXX.

^INCE the memorable day of Begina's visit to Oentral
Park, many weeks had elapsed, and one wild stormy
evening in March she sat at the library table, writing
her translation of a portion of " Egmont."

The storm, now of sleet, now of snow, darkened the
air, and the globes of the chandelier, representing Pompeian
lamps, wer^ %hted above the oval table, (shedding a bright yet
mellow glow over the warm quiet room.

Upon a bronze console stood a terra-ootta jar ccmtaining a
white azalea in full bloom, and the fragrance of the flowers
breathed like a benediction on the atmosphere ; while in the
tall glass beneath Mrs. Orme's portrait two half-blown snowy
camellias nestled amid a fringe of geranium leaves.

Close to the Are, with her feet upon a Persian patterned
cushion, Olga reclined in the luxurious easy-chair that belonged
to Mr. Palma's writing desk, and open oa her lap lay a
volume entitled the " Service of the Poor" The former bril-
liancy of her complexion seemed to have forsaken her forever,
banished by a settled sallowness; and she looked thin, feeble,
dejected, passing her fingers abstractedly through the short, curl^
ing ruddy hair that clustered around her forehead and Upon her
neck.

As if weary of the thoughts suggested by her book, she
turned and looked at the figure writing under the chandelier,
and by degrees she realized the change in the countenance.

tNFEUCE.

399

at
m
le

le
n
)t

which three months before had been pure, serene, and bright
48 a moonbeam.

The keen and prolonged anguish which Begina had endured
left its shadow, faint, vague, but unmistakable; and in the eyes
lay gloom, and around the mouth patient yet melancholy lines,
which hinted of a bitter struggle in which the oalm-hearted girl
died, and the wiser, sadder woman was bom.

Eer grief had been silent but deep, for the loss of the dear
friend who symbolized for her all tAutt was noble, heroic and
godly in human nature ; and her suffering was not assuaged by
(etters from Mrs. Lindsay, furnishing the sorrowful details of
the last illness of the minister, and the dying words of tender
devotion to the young girl whom he believed his betrothed
bride.

Over these harrowing letters she had wept long and bitterly
accusing herself continually of her unworthiness in allowing
another image to usurp the throne where the missionary should
have reigned supreme ; and the only consolation afforded was
in the reflection that Douglass had died believing her faithful —
happy in the perfect trust reposed in her. He had been buried
(m a sunny slope of the cemetery not far from the blue waves
of the Pacific, and his mother remained in San Frandsoo with
her sister, in whose house Mr. Lindsay had quietly breathad
his life away, dying as he had lived, full of hope in Christ and
trust in €k)d.

Mrs. FeJma and Olga only knew that Begina had lost a dear
friend, whom she had not seen for years, and none but her
guardilai understocid the nature of the sacred tie that bound
them.

Day and night she was haunted by memories of the kind
face never more to be seen this side of the City of Peace, and
when at length she received a photograph taken after death, in
which, wan and emaciated, he seemed sleeping soundly, she felt
that her life could never again be quite the same, and that the gray
shadowy wings of Regret drooped low over her future pathway.

Accompanying the photograph was a brief yet loving note
written by Mr. Lindsay the evening before his death ; and to it
were appended the lines from " Jacqueline : "

** Nor shall I leave thee wholly. I shall be
An evening thought, a morning dream to thee,
A silence in thy life, when through the ni^ht
The bell strikes, or the sun with shining Iigh^

iOO

INFBUCB.

■

[

Smites all the empty windows. ^ As there sprout
Daisies, and dimming tufts of violets, out
Among the grass where some corpse lies aslee]^
80 round thy life, where I lie buried deep,
A thousand little tender thoughts shall sprinft,
A thousand gentle memories wind and ohng.

As if the opal were a talisman against the revival of reflec-
tions that seemed an insult to the dead, ilegina wore the ring
constantly ; and whenever a thrill warned her of the old mad-
ness, her right hand caressed the jewelsi seeking from their
touch a renewal of strength.

Studiously she manoeuvred to avoid even casual meetings with
her guardian, and except at the table, and in the presence
of the fiAmiiy she had not seen him for several weeks. Business
engagements occupied him very closely ; he was called away to
Albi^y, to Boston, and once to Philadelphia, but no farewells
were exchanged with his ward, and as if conscious of her
sedulous efforts to avoid him, he appeared almost to ignore her
presence.

During these sad days, the girl made no attempt to analyze
the (estrangement which she felt was hourly increasing between
them. She presumed he disapproved of her resolution to accept
Mr. Lindsay, because he was poor, and offered no brilliant
worldly advantages, such as her guardian had been trained to
r^purd as paramount inducements in the grave matter of mar-
riage ; and secluding herself as much as possible, she fought
her battlo with grief and remorse as best she might, unaided by
iqrmpathy. If i^e could only escape from that house, with her
secret undiscovered, she thought that in time she would crush
her folly and reinstate herself in her own respect.

After several interviews with Mr. Palma, the details of which
Olga communicated to no one, she had consented to hold her
scheme of the " Sisterhood " in abeyance for twelve months,
and to accompany her mother to Europe, whither die had for-
merly been eager to travel ; and Mrs. Palma, in accordance
with instructions from her stop-son, had perfected her prepara-
tions, so as to be able to leave New York at a day's notice.

Mrs. Carew had returned to the city, and now and then Mr.
Palma mentioned her name, and delivered messages from her
to his step-motbar ; but Olga abstained from her old iiadinage,
and Regina imagined that her forbearance sprang from a knowl-
edge of the engagement which she supposed must exist between
them. She coi^ld not hear her name without a shiver of pain,

INFBLIOA

and longed to get away before the affair agsuraed a sufficiently
decided form, to compel her to notice and discuss it. To4ay
after watching her for some time, Olga said :

" You are weary, and pale almost to ghastliness. Put away
jovlt books, and come talk to me."

Begina si(^hed, laid down her pen, and came to the fireplace.

" I thought you promised to go very early to Mrs. St. Clare's
and assist Valeria m arranging her bridal veil t "

'' So I did, and it will soon be time for me to dress. How I
dislike to go back into the gay world, where I have frisked so
recklessly and so long. Do you know I long for the hour when
I shall end this masquerade, and exchange silks and lace and
jewelry for coarse blu? gown, blue apron and white capl **

" Do you imagine the colour of your garments wiU change
the complexion of your heart and mind i Tou remind me of
Alexander's comment upon Antipater : * Outwardly, Antipater
wears only white clothes, but within he is all purple.' "

" Ah 1 but my purple pride has been utterly dethroned, and
it seems to me now, that when I find rest in cloistered duties,
the quiet sacred seclusion will prove in some degree like the
well Ernn-Zem, in which Gabriel washed Mohammed's heart,
filled it with faith, and restored it to his bosom. XJntU I am
housed safely from the roar, and gibes, and mockery of the
world, I shall not grow better ; for here

* Ood sends me back my prayers, as a father
Betnnifl unoped the letters of a son
Who has dishonoured him. ' "

** To conquer the worid is nobler than to shun it, and to a
nature such as yours, Olga, other lines in that poem ought to
appeal with peculiar force :

' If thy rich heart is like a palace shattered,
Stand up amid the ruins of thy heart.
And with a calm brow front the solemn stars.
A brave soul is a thing which all things serve.'

The scheme which you are revolving now, is one utterly
antagonistic to the wishes of your mother, and God would not
bless a step which involved the sacrifice of your duty to her."
** After a time, mamma will approve ; till then I shall be
patient. She has consented for me to go to the Mother House
at KaisersweHh, and to some ol the Deaconess establishments
in Paris and Dresden, in order that I may become thoroughly
acquainted with the esoteric working of the system. I am

402

MNFBLaOE,

\\\

anxious also to visit the institntion for training Nui-MMi ut Liver-

CI, and unless we sail directly for Havre, we shall soon
e an opportunity of gratifying my wishes."

Begina took the book from her hand, turned over the leaves,
and read : *'

" 'All probationers must be unbetrothed, and their heart still
free.' .... 'A short life history of the previous inward
and outward experiences of the future Deaconess pupil. It
must be composed and written by herself.' Olga, what would
you do- with your past V*

" I havo buried it, dear. All the love of which I was capable
I poured out, nay, I crushed the heart that held it, as the
Syrian woman broke the precious box of costly ointment, an-
ointing the feet of her Ood I When my day idol fell I oould
not gather back the wasted trust and i^eotion ; and so all, all
is sepulchred in one deep grave. I have spent my wealth cS
spicery — the days of my anointing are forever ended. To tirue
deep-hearted women it is given to love once only, and all such
scorn to set a second, lesser, lower idol, where iormerly they
bowed in worship. Even fklse gods hold sway, long after their
images are defiled, their temples overthrown, and, as the Bo-
donian Groves still whisper of the ttld oraculwr days to modem
travellers, so a woman's idolatry leaves her no shrine, no liba*
tion, no reverence for new divinities — ^though mutilated, she
acknowledges her Hermee — ^no fresh image can profane th«ur
pedestal. Memory is the high priestess who survives the wreck
of altars and of gods, and faithfully ministers, amid the gloom
of the soul's catacombs. I owe much to mamma, and something
to Erie Palma, who is a nobler man than I have deemed him —
less a bronze Macchiavelli, with a heart of quarts ; and I shall
never again, as heretofore, rashly defy their advice and wishes.
But I loiow myself too well, to hope for happiness in the gay,
frivolous, insincere world, where I have fluttered out my but-
terfly existence of fashionable emptiness.

' I kissed the painted bloom off* Pleaaoro's lips
And found them pale aa Pain's.'

I have bruised and singed my Psyche wings, and le beau immde
has no new, strong pinions to replace those beat out in its hard
tyrannous service. You think me cynical and misanthropic,
but, dear, I believe I am only clear-eyed at last. If I had
parried him, ibr whom I daved so much, and found, tou late,

INFBUOE.

408

that all the golden qualitiM I fondly dreamed that he poMeesed,
were only baeer metal — ^gaudy tinsel that tarnished in my grasp
— I am afraid it would hare maddened me, beyond hope of
reclamation. I have made shipwreck ; bat a yet sadder fate
might have overtaken me, and, at least, my soul has outridden
the storm, thanks to your frail, bab3ri8h hands, so desperately
strong, when they grappled that awful night with suicidal sin.
Few women have sunered more keenly than I, and yet, in
Muriel's sweet patient words :—

' Ood has been good to me ; yon K.iut not think.
That I despair. Thert i$ <» quut time
Like evening in my Moul. I hone no heart.* **

There was more peace in Olga's countenance as she dasped
one of Regina's hands in hers, than her companion had yet seen,
and after a moment, she continued :

" You know, dear, that we are only waiting for Congress to
adjourn, in order to have Mr. Ohesley's escort across the ooean,
and he will arrive to-morrow, f^le Palma is exceedingly
anxious that you should aocomiMmy us, and I trust your mother
will sanction this arrangement, for I should grieve to leave you
here. Perhaps you are not aware that your guardian has
recently sold his house, and intends purchaidng one <m Murray
HiU."

" Mr. Palma cannot possibly desire my departure half so
earnestly as I do, and if I am not summoned to join my mother,
I shall insist upon returning to the convent, whence he took me
seven years ago. There I can continue my studies, and there
I prefer to remain until I can be restored to my mother. Olga
— ^how soon will Mr. Palma be married 1"

" I do not know. He communicates his plans to no one, but
I may safely say, if he consulted merely his own wishes, it
would not be long delayed. Until quite recently, I did not be-
lieve it possible that man's cold, proud, ambitious, stony heart
would bow before any woman, but human nature is a riddle
which baffles us all — sometimes. I must dress for the wedding,
and mamma will scold me if I am late. Kiss me, dear child.
Ah, velvet violet eyes I if I find a resting place in heaven, I
shall always want, even there, to hover near you."

She kissed the girl's colourless cheek, and left her ; and when
the carriage bore Olga and her mother to }A.t%. St! Clare's,
Jlegina retreated to her own room, dreading lest her guardian
should return and find her in the library.

404

INFELJCB.

At Inreakfast he had mentioned that he would dine at his
olub, in honour of some eminent Judge from a distant State, to
whom the members of the " Oentnry " had tendered a dinner,
but she endeavoured to avoid even the possibility of meeting
him alone. Had she been less merciless in her self-denunciation,
hia avowed impatience to send her to her mother, might have
piqued her pride ; but it only increased her scorn of her own
fatal folly, and intensified her desire to leave his presence. Was
it to gratify Mrs. Carew's extravagar ' taste, that he had sold
this elegant house, and designed the purchase of one yet more
costly?

In the midst of her heart-ache she derived some satisfaction
from the reflection, that at least Mr. Palma's wife would never

Eroffme the beautiful library, where his ward had spent so many
appy days, and which was indissolubly linked with sacred
memories of its master. Unwilling to indulge a reverie so
fraught with pain and humiliation, she returned to her " Eg-
mont," resuming her translation of a speech by ** Olarchen."
Ere long Hattie knocked at the door :

*' Mr. Palma says, please to come down to the library \ he
wishes to speak to you."

" Ask him if he will not be so kind as to wait till morning t
Say I shall feel very much obliged if he will excuse me to*
night."

In a few minutes she returned :

" He is sorry he must trouble you to come down this even-
ing, as he leaves home to-morrow."

" Very well."

She wont to the drawer that contained all her souvenirs <A.
Mr. Lindsay, and lingered some minutes, looking sorrowfully
at the photograph; then pressed her lips to the melancholy
Kmage, and as if strengthened by communion with the dead face,
went down to the library.

Mr. Palma was walking slowly up and down the long room,
and had paused in front of the snowy azalea. As she ap-
proached, he put out his hand and took hers, for the first time
since they had sat together in the Park.

** How deliciously this perfumes the room, and it must be
yours, for no other member of the household cares for^ flowers,
and I see a cluster of the same blossoms in your hair."

'' I had forgotten that Olga fastened them there this affcer-
nooji, X bought it from the greenhouse in street, where

h
s
f<

w
si
n

w
b

t<
n

t(
n
I

INFMUOM,

405

I often get boaqueta to place ander mother's picture. Asaleaa
were Mr. Liudsay's favourite floweie, and that fact tempted me
to make the purchase. We had just such a one as this at the
Parsonage, and, on his birthday, we covered the pot with white
cambric, fringed the edge with violets, and set it' in the centre
of the breakfast table ; and the bees c ame in and swung over it."

She had withdrawn her hand, and folding her fingers, leaned
her face, on them, a position which she often assumed when
troubled. Her left hand was uppermost, and the opal and dia-
monds seemed pressed against her lips, though she was uncon-
scious of their dose proximity. Mr. Palma broke o£f a duster
of three half-expanded flowers, twisted the stem into the but-
ton-hole of his coat, and answered coldly :

*' Flowers are always associated in my mind with early 1*0001-
leotions of my mother, who had her own greenhouse and con-
servatories. They appear to link you with the home of your
former guardian, and the days that were happier than those
you spend here."

" That dear Parsonage was my happiest home, and I shall
always cherish its precious memories.

" Happier than a residence under my roof has beent Be so
good as to look at me ; it is the merest courtesy to do so, when
one is being spoken to."

" Pardon me Sir, I was not instituting a comparison ; and
while I am grateful for the kindness and considerate hospitality
shown me by all in this pleasant house, it has never seemed to
me quite the home that I found the dear old Parsonage."

" Because you prefer country to dty life 1 Love to fondle
white rabbits, and pigeons, and stand ankle deep in clover
blooms?"

" I daresay that is one reason ; for my tastes are certainly
very childish stilL"

** Then of course you regret the necessity which brought you
to reside here?"

He bent an unusually keen look upon hev, but she quietly
met his eyes, and answered without hesitation :

<* You must forgive me Sir, if your questions compel me to
sacrifice courtesy to candour. I do regret that I ever came
to live in this dty ; and I believe it would have been better for
me, if I had remained at V w ith Mr. Hargrove and the
Lindsays."

** You mean that you would have been happier with them,
than vdth me T

406

INFELICB,

As she thougb of the keen suffering her love for him had en-
tailed upon her, of the dreary days and sleepless nights she had
recently passed in that elegant luxurious home, her eyes deepen-
ed in tint, saddened in expressioii, and she said :

" Tou have been very kind and generous to me, and I grate-
fully appreciate all you have done, but if you insist on an an-
swer, I must confess I was happier two years ago, than I am
now."

"Thank yon. The truth, no matter how unflattering, is
always far more agreeable to me than equivocation, or disin-
genuousness. Does my ward believe that it will conduce to her
future happiness to leave my roof, and find a residence else-
where 1"

" I know I should be happier with my mother."

'' Then I congratulate myself as the bearer of delightful tid-
ings. Regina, it gives me pleasure to relieve you from your
present disagreeable surroundings, by informing you of the tele-
gram received to-day by Cable from your mother. It was
dated two days ago at Naples, and is as follows : ' Send Kegina
to me by the first steamer to Havre. I will meet her in
Paris.'"

Involuntarily the girl exclaimed :

"Thank God!"

The joyful expression of her countenance rendered' it impos-
sible to doubt the genuineness of her satisfaction at the intel-
ligence ; and though Mr. Palma kept close guard over his own
features, lest they should betray his emotion, an increasing pale-
ness attested the depth of his feelings.

" How soon can I go 1"

" In two days a steamer sails for Havre, and I have already
engaged passage for you. Doubtless you are aware that Mrs.
Palma and Olga hold themselves in readiness to start at any
hour, and your friend and admirer Mr. Chesley will go over in
the same steamer ; consequently with so chivalrous an escort,
you cannot fail to have a pleasant voyage. Since you are so
anxious to escape from my guardianship, I may be pardoned for
emulating your frankness, and acknowledging that I am heartily
glad you will soon cease to be my ward. Mr. Chesley is ambi-
tious of succeeding to my authority, and I have relinquished my
claim as guardian, and referred him to your mother, to whose
hands I joyfully resign you. A residence in Europe will, I hope,
soon obliterate the unpleasant associations connected with my
house."

INFELICB.

407

" A lifetime would never obliterate the memory of all your
kindness to me, or of some hours I have passed in this beautiful
library. For all y«i have done, I no^ desire, Mr. Palma, to
thank you most adncerely.**

She looked up at the grave, composed face, so handsome in
its regular, high-brod outlines, and her mouth trembled, while
her deep eyes grew misty.

" I desire no thanks for the faithful discharge of my duty as
a guardian j my conscience acquits me fully, and that is the re-
ward I value most. K you really indulge any grateful senti-
ments, on the eve of your depai*ture, oblige me by singing
something. I bought that organ, hoping that now and then
when my business permitted me to spend a quiet evening at
home, I might enjoy your music ; but you sedulously avoid
touching it when I am present. This is the last opportunity
you will have, for I must meet Mr. Chesley at noon to-morrow
in Baltimore, and thence I go on to Cincinnati, where I shall
be detained until the steamer has sailed. After to-night, I shall
not see my ward again."

They were standing near the azalea, and Begina suddenly put
her hand on the back of a chair. To see him no more after
thu evening, to know that the broad ocean rolled between, that
she might never again look upon the face that was so inexpres-
sibly dear ; all this swept over her like a bitter murderous wave,
drowning the sweetness of her life, and she clung to the chair.

She was not prepared for this sudden separation, but though
hiB eyes were riveted upon her, she bore it bravely. A faint
numb sensation stole over her, and a dark shadow seemed to
float through the room, yet her low voice was steady, when she
Haid:

*' I am sorry I disappointed any pleasant anticipations you
indulged with reference to the organ ; which has certainly been
a source of much comfort to me. I have felt very timid about
singing before you, sir, but if it will afford you the least pleas-
ure, I am willing to do the best of which I am capable."

" You sang quite successfully before a large audience at Mrs.
Brompton's, and displayed sufficient self-possession."

** But those were strangers, and the opinion of those with
whom we live is more impoitant, their criticism is more embar-
rassing.'*

" I believe I was present, and heard you on that occasion."

She moved away to the organ, and sat down, glad of an
excuse, for her limbs trembled.

408

INFELIOB,

** Begina, what was that song you sang for little Llora Oarew
the night before she left us 1 Indeed there were two, one with,
the other without an accompaniment )"
" You were not here at that time."

<' No matter ; what were they 1 The child fancies them ex-
ceedingly, and I promised to get the words for her."

" Kiicken's * Schlummerlied,' and a little ' Cradle Song ' by
Walhioe."

" Be so good as to let me hear them."

Would Mrs. Oarew sing them for him, when she was far away,
utterly forgotten by her guardian % The thought was unuttor-
ably bitter, and it goaded her, aided her in the ordeal.

With nerves strung to their extreme tension, she sang as he
requested, and all the while her rich mellow voice rolled through
the room, he walked very slowly from one end of the library to
the other. She forced herself to sing every verse, and when
she concluded, he was standing behind her chair. He put his
hands on her shoulders, and prevented her rising, for just then
he was unwilling she should see his countenance, which he
feared would betray the suffering he was resolved to conceal

After a moment, he said :

" Thank you. I shall buy the music in order to secure the
words. Lily " —

He paused, bent down and rested his chin on the large coil
of hair at the back of her head, and though she never knew it,
his proud lips touched the glossy silkfln mass.

" lily, if I ask a foolish trifle of yoa, will you grant it, as a
farewell gift to your guardian t"

'' I think, sir, you do not doubt that I will."

<' It is a trivial thing, and will cost you nothing. The night
on which you sang those songs to Llora is associated with some-
thing which I treasure as peculiarly precious; and I merely
wish to request that you will never sing them again for any one,
unless I give you permission."

Swiftly she recalled the fact thao on that particular evening
he had escorted Mrs.' Oarew to a " German" at Mrs. Quimby's,
and she explained his request by the supposition that her songs
to Mrs. Oarew's child commemorated the date of his betrothal
to the gray-eyed mother. Could she bear even to think of them
in coming years ? *

She hastily pushed back the ivory stops, and shaking off hli
detaining palms, rose

JNFELIGB.

409

** I am sorry that I cannot do Bomething of more importance
to oblige my kind guardian; for this trifle involves not the
slightest sacrifice of filing, and I would gladly improve a better
opportunity of attesting my gratitude. You may rest assured
I diair never sing those words again, under any circumstances.
Do not buy the music, I will leave my copies for Llora, and you
and her mother can easily teach her the words."

" Thanks ! You will please place the music on the organ,
and when I come back from Cincinnati it will remind me. I
hope your mother will be pleased with your progress in French,
German, and music. Your teachers furnish very flattering re-
ports, and I have enclosed them with some receipts, bills, and
other valuable papers in this large sealed envelope, which you
must give to your mother as soon as you see her."

He went to his desk, took out the package and handed it to
her. Seating himself at the table where she generally wrote
and studied, he pointed to a chair on the opposite side, and
mechanically she sat down.

" Perhaps you may recollect that some months ago, Mrs.
Orme wrote me she was particularly desirous you should be
trained to read well. It is a graceful accomplishment, especi-
ally for a lady, and I ordered a professor of Elocution to give
you instruction twice a week. I hope you have derived benefit
from his tuition, as he has fitted one or two professional readers
for the stage, and I should dislike to have your mother 'feel dis-
appointed in any of your attainments. Now that I am called
upon to render an account of my stewardship, I trust you will
pardon me, if I examine you a little. Here is Jean Ingelow,
close at hand, and I must trouble you to allow me an oppor-
tunity of testing your proficiency."

The book which she had been reading that day lay on the
table, and taking it up, he I:>isurely turned over the leaves. A
premonitory dread seized her, and she wrung her hands, which
were lying cold in her lap.

'* Ah ! here is your mark ; three purple pansies, crushed in
the middle of 'Divided,' staining the delicate cream-tinted
paper with their dark blood. Probably you are familiar with
this poem, consequently can interpret it for me without any
great effort. Commence at the first, and let me see what value
Professor Chrysostom's training possesses. Not too fast; re-
collect Pegasus belongs to poets, never to readers."

He leaned across the marble table, and placed the open book
before her. z

410

INFELIOB.

Did he intentionally torture her 1 With those bright eyes
reading her unwomanly and foolish heart,. was he amusing him-
self, as an entomologist impales a feeble worm, and from its
writhing deduces the exact character of its nervous and mus-
cular anatomy 1

The thought struck her more severely than the stroke of a
lash would have done, and turning the page to the light, she
said quickly : *

> « < Divided' is not at all dramatic, and as an exercise, is not
comparable to 'High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire,' or
* Songs of Seven,' or even that most exquisite of all, ' Afternoon
at a Parsonage.' "

"Try*Z)mrfed"'

She dared not refuse, lest he should despise her utterly, in-
terpreting correctly her reluctance. For an instant the print
danced before her, and the spirit of defiance was fast mastering
her trepidation, and she sat erect, and obeyed him.

Thrusting one hand inside his vest, where it rested tightly
clenched over his heart, Mr. PaMlia sat intentiy watching her
glad of the privilege afforded him, to study the delicate features.
Her excessive paleness reminded him of the words :

'' That white, white face, set in a night of hair,"

and though the chastening touch of sorrow, and continued heart-
ache, that most nimble of all chisellers, had strangely matured
the countenance which when it. entered that house was as free
from lines and shadows as an infant's, it still preserved its
almost child-like purity and repose.

The proud face, with its firm yet dainty scarlet lips, baffled
him ; and when he reflected that a hundred contingencies might
arise to shut it from his view in future years, he suddenly com-
pressed his mouth to suppress a groan. His vanity demanded
an assurance that her heart was as entirely his, as he hoped, yet
he knew that he loved her all the more tenderly and reverently,
because of the true womanly delicacy that prompted her to
shroud her real feelings with such desperate tenacity.

She read the poem, with skill and pathos, but no undue
tremor of the smooth, deliciously sweet voice betrayed aught,
save the natural timidity of a tyro, essaying her first critical tnal.
To-night she wore a white shawl draped in statuesque folds over
her shoulders and bust, and the snowy flowers in her raven hair
were scarcely purer than her full forehead, borne up by the airy

INFELICB,

411

arched black brows, that had alwajs attracted the admiration of
her fastidious guaiHiian; and as the soft radiance of the clustered
lamps fell upon her, she looked as sweet and lovely a woman as
ever man placed upon the sacred hearth of his home, a holy
priestess to keep it bright, serene and warm.

On that same day, but a few hours earlier, she had perused
these pages, wondering how the unknown gifted poetress beyond
the sea had so accurately etched the suffering in her own young
heart, the loneliness and misery that seemed coiled in the f\iture,
like serpents in a lair. Now holding that bruised, palpitating
heart under the steel-clad heel of pride, she was calmly declaim-
ing that portraiture of her own wretchedness, as any elocution-
ist might a grand passage from the "Antigone" or "Prometheus"
Not a throb of pain was permitted to ripple the rich voice that
uttered:

*' But two are walking a^rt forever,
And w^ve their hands in a mute farewell."

Further on, nearing the close, Mr. Palma observed a change
in the countenance, a quioiK gleam in the eyes, a triumphant
ring in the deep and almost passionate tone that cried exult-
antly :

** Only my heart to my heart will show it
As I walk desolate day by day."

He leaned forward and touched the volume :

" Thank you. Give me the book. I should render the con-
cluding verses -'ery much as I heard them recently from my
fair client,. Mrs. Carew, so :"

In his remarkably clear, full, musical and carefully-modulated
voice he read the two remaining verses, then closed the volume
and looked coolly across the table at the girl.

With what a flash her splendid eyes challenged his, and how
proudly her tender lips curled, as with pitiless scorn she an-
swered :

" Not so, oh not so ! Jean Ingelow would never recognize
her own jewelled handiwork. She meant this, and any earnest
woman who prized a faithful lover, could not fail to read it
aright :"

^er eyes sank tUl they rested on her ring, and slipping it to
and fro upon her slender finger till the diamonds sparkled, she
repeated with indescribable power and pathos :

And yet I know, past all doubting, truly,
A knowledge greater than grief can dim

412 INFELIOE.

I know, luB he loved, he will lore me duly,
Yea better, e'en better than I love him.

And as I wiJk by the vast calm river.
The awful river so dread to see,

I say ' Thy breadth and thy depth forever
Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me.'"

" Kegina, do you interpret that the River of Death 1"

She pointed to the jewels on her hand, and the blue eyes oold
as steel met his.

" Only the river of death could have ' divided ' Douglass and
me.

A frown overshadowed his massive brow, but he merely add-
ed composedly :

" I did not suspect until to-night that you were endowed
with your mother's histrionic talent. Some day you will rival
her as an actress, and at least I may venture to congratulate
you upon the fact that she will scarcely be disappointed in youi
dramatic skill."

For nearly a moment neither spoke.

*' Mr. Palma you have no objection I hope to my carrying
mother's portrait with me 1"

" It is undeniably your property, but since you will so sooa
possess the original, I would suggest the propriety of leaving
the picture where it is, until your mother decides where she
will reside."

" I understood that you had sold this house, and feared that
in the removal it might be injured."

" It will be carefuuQy preserved with my own pictures, and if
your mother wishes it forwarded I will comply with her instruc-
tions. All the business details of your voyage I have arranged
with Mrs. Palma and Mr. Chesley ; and you have only to pack
your trunks, and bid adieu to such friends as you may deem
worthy of a farewell visit. Have you a copy of Jean Ingelow?"

«' No, sir."

" Then oblige me by accepting mine. I have no time for
poetry."

He took the book to his desk, wrote upon the fly-leaf: " Lily.
March the 10th;" then marked "Divided/' and retu ming to
the table, held the volume toward her.

" Thank you, but indeed, sir, I do not wish to accept it. I
much pref that you should retain it.'

He inci )d his head, and replaced the book on the marble

INFBLIOS.

413

slab,
lipe.

She rose, and he saw the colour slowly ebbing from her

fit

" Mr. Palma, I hope you will not deny me one great favour.
I cannot leave my dog, I must have my Hero."

" Indeod 1 I thought you had quite forgotten his existence.
You have ceased to manifest any interest in him."

'' Yes, to manifest, but not to feel. You took him from me,
and I was unwilling to annoy you with useless petitions and
complaints. You assured me he was well cared for, and that I
need not expect to have him while I remained here ; now I am
going away forever, I want him. You gave him to me once,
he is mine ; and you have no right to withold him any longer."

"Circumstances have materially altered. When you were
a little girl I sent you a dog to romp with. Now you are a
young lady preparing for European conquests, and having had
his day. Hero must retire to the rustic shade of your childhood."

" YfiaxB have not changed my feelings for all that I love."

" Are you sure Lily, that you have not changed since you
came to five in New York V*

** Not in my attachment to all that brightened my childhood,
and Hero is closely linked with the dear happy time I spent at
the Parsonage. Mr. Palma I want him."

Her guardian smiled, and played with his watch chain.

" Officers of the ocean steamers dislike to furnish passage for
dogs ; and they are generally forwarded by sailing vessels. My
ward, I regret to refuse you, particularly when we are about to
say good-by, possibly forever. Wait six months, and if at the
expiration of that time, you still desire to have him cross the
ocean, I pledge myself to comply with your wishes. You know
I .never break a promise."

•* Where is Hero ? May I not at lest see him before I go V

" Just now, he is at a farm on Staton Island, and I am sorry
I cannot gratify you in such a trivial matter. Trust me to take
care of him."

Her heart was slowly sinking, for she saw him glance at the
clock, and knew that it was very lato.

" I will bring you good tidings of your pet when I see you in
Europe. If I live, I shall probably cross the ocean some time
during the summer, and as my business will oblige me to meet
your mother, I shall hope to see my ward during my tour, which
will be short."

He was watching her very closely, and instead of pleased

414

INFELIOS.

surprise, discerned the expression ci dread, the unmistakable
shiver that greeted the announcement of his projected trip.
After all, had he utterly mistaken her feeling, flattered himself
falsely 1

She supposed he referred to his bridal tour, and the thought
that when they next met he would be Brunella Carew's bus-
band, goaded her to hope that such torture might be averted,
by seeing him no more.

While both stood sorrowful and perplexed, the front door-bell
rang sharply. Soon after Terry entered, with a large official
envelope, sealed with I'ed wax.

«' From Mr. Rodney, Sir."

** Yes, I was expecting it. Tell Octave I must have a cup of
coffee at daylight, and Farley must not fail to have the coup4
ready to take me to the d^pdt. Let the gas bum in the hall
to-night. That is all."

Mr. Palma broke the seals, glanced at the heading of heveral
sheets of legal cap, and laid the whole on his desk.

" Regina, all the money belonging to you I shall leave in
Mrs. Palma's hands, and she will transmit it to you. Mr.
Chesley will take charge of you , to-morrow, soon after his
arrival, and in the chivalric new guaitlian I presume the former
grim custodian will speedily be forgotten. I have some letters
to write, and as I shall leave home before you are awake, I
must bid you good-bye to-night. Is there anything you wish to
say to me ] "

Twice she attempted to speak, but no sound was audible.

Mr. Palma came close to her, and held out his hand. Silently
she placed hers* in it, and when he took the other, holding both
in a warm tightening clasp, she felt as if the world were crum-
bling beneath her unsteady feet. Her large soft eyes sought
his handsome, pale face, wistfully, hungrily, almost despairingly,
and oh ! how dear he was to her at that moment. If she could
only put her arms around his neck, and cling to him, feeling as
she had once done, the touch of his cheek pressing hers ; but
there was madness in the thought.

"Although you are so anxious to leave my care and my
house, I hope my ward will think kindly of me when far distant.
It is my misfortune that you gave your fullest confidence and
affection to your guardian, Mr. Hargrove ; but since you were
committed to my hands, I have endeavoured faithfully, con-
scientiously to do my duty in every respect. In some things it

'>*<nk'<riu-.aHiKiiw« JM' w*

x^zrT

INFEUCS.

416

has ooBt me dear, how dear, I think yoa will never realize. If
I nhould live to see you again, I trust I shall find you the samr
«amost, true-hearted, pure girl that you leave me ; for in youi
piety and noble nature I have a deep and abiding faith. My
dear ward, good-bye."

The beautiful face, with its mournful tender eyes, told little
of the fierce agony that seemed consuming her, as she gazed into
the beloved countenance for the last time.

" Qood-bye, Mr. Palma. I have no words to thank you for
all your care and goodness."

" Is that all, lily 1 Years ago, when I left you at the Par-
sonage, looking as if your little heart would break, you said, * I
will pray for you every night.* Now you leave me without a
tear, and with no promise to remember me."

Tenderly his low voice appealed to her heart, as he bent his
head so close that his hair swept across her brow.

She raised the hand that held hers, suddenly kissed it with
an overwhelming passionate fervour, and holding it against her
cheek, murmured almost in a whisper :

" God knows I have never ceased to pray for you, and Mr.
Palma, as long as I live, come what may to both of us, I shall
never fail in my prayers for you."

She dropped his hand, and covered her face with her own.

He stretched his arms toward her, all his lore in his fine eyes,
so full of a strange tenderness, a yearning to possess her en-
tirely ; but he checked himself, and taking one of the hands,
led her to the door. Upon the threshold she rallied, and
looked up :

" uood-bye, Mr. Palma."

He drew her close to his side, unconscious that he pressed
her fingers so tight that the small points of the diamonds cut
into the flesh.

" God bless you, Lily. Think of me sometimes.**

They looked in each other's eyes an instant, and she walked
away. He turned and closed the door, ard she heard the click
of the lock inside. Blind and tearless, like one staggering
from a severe blow, she reached her own room, and fell heavily
across the foot of her bed.

Through the long hours of that night she lay motionless,
striving to hush the moans of her crushed heart, and wondering
why such anguish as hers was not fatal. Staring at the wall,
nhe could not close her eyes, and the only staff that supported

419

INFELIOS.

her in the ordeal, waa the oonaoiouRness that she had fought
bravely, bad not betrayed her humiliating secret.

Toward dawn she rose, and opened her window. The sleet
had ceased, and the carriage was standing before the door.
An impulse she could not resist, drove her oat into the hall, to
catch one more glimpse of the form so predous to her. She
heard a door open on the hall beneath, and recogniMd her
guardian's step. He paused, and she heard him tiUking to his
step-mother ; bidding her adieu. His last words were deep and
gentle in their utterance.

" Be very tender and patient with Olga- Wounds like hers
heal slowly. Take good care of my ward. Gk>d bless you all."

Descending the steps, she saw him distinctly, enveloped in
an overcoat buttoned so dose that it showed the fine propor^
tions of his tall figuro ; and as he stepped to light his cigar at
a gas globe which a bronze Atalanta held in a niche half way
up the stairs, his nobly formed head and gleaming forehead
impressed itself forever on her memory -^^

Slowly he went down, and leaning over the bidustrade to
watch the vanishing figure, the withered azaleas slipped from
her hair, and floated like a snowflake down, down to the lower
hall.

Fearful of discovery she shrank back, but not before he had
seen the drifting flowers, and one swift upward glance ahowec^
him the blanched suffering face, pale as a summer cloud, re-
treating from observation. Stooping, he snatdied the bruised
wilted petals thi^t seemed a fit symbol of the drooping flower
he was leaving behind him, kissed them tenderly, and thrust
them into his bosom.

The blessed assurance so long desired seemed nestling in
their perfumed corollas, making all his future fragrant ; and
how little she dreamed of the precious message they broathed
from her heart to his 1

"What ooold he do indeed ? A weak white girl
Held all his heartstrings in her small white nand;
His hopes, and power, and majesty were hers,
And not lua own. "

Atji tAmm ut 1

..'.ySAtouifc'.'-u-

INFELIOa,

CHAPTER XXXI.

•

^0, Mother — no. Not less, but more beautiful ; not so
pale as when you hung over me at the convent, baptiz
ing me with hot, fast dripping tears. Now a delicate
flush like the pink of an apple bloom, overspread your
cheeks; and your eyes once so sad, eyes which I remem-
beras shimmering stars, burning always on the brink of clouds,
and magnified and misty through a soft veil of April rain, are
brighter, happier eyes than those I have so fondly dreamed of.
Oh Mother 1 Mother ! Draw me close, hold me tight. Earth
has no peace so holy, as the blessed rest in a mother's clasping
arms. After the long winter of separation, it is so sweet to
bask in your presence, thawing like a numb dormouse in the
iiunshine of May. I knew I should find joy in the reunion, but
how deep, how full, anticipation failed to paint, and only the
blessed reality has taught me." '

On the carpet at her mother's feet, with her head in her
mother's lap, and her arms folded around her waist, Regina
had thrown herself, feasting her eyes with the beauty of the
face smiling down upon her. It was the second day after her
arrival in Paris, and hour after hour she had poui^ed into
eagerly listening ears the recital of her life at the quiet Par-
sonage, at the stately mansion on Fifth Avenue ; and yet the
endless stream of talk flowed on, and neither mother nor child
took cognizance of the flight of time.

Of her past, the girl withheld only the acknowledgement of
her profound interest in Mr. Palma, and when questioned con-
cerning his opposition to her engagement with Mr. Lindsay,
she had briefly announced her belief that he was hastening the
preparations for his marriage with Mrs. Carew. Of him she
spoke only in quiet terms of respect and gratitude, and her
mother never suspected the spasm of pain that the bare men-
tion of his name aroused.

Thus far, no allusion had been hazarded to the long-veiled
mystery of her parentage, and Mrs. Orme wondered at the ex-
ceeding delicacy with which her daughter avoided every refer-
ence that might have been construed into an inquiry. As the

418

INFBLWB.

soft motherly hand passed caressingly over the forehead reitinj}
BO contentedly on her knee, Regina continued :

" In all the splendid imagery that makes ' Aurora Leigh
deathless, nothing affected me half so deeply as the portrait o\
the motherless child ; and often when I could not sleep, I have
whispered in the wee sma' hours : —

" I felt a mother want about the world.
And still went seekins like a bleating lamb
Left oQt at night, in watting np the fold,
Ai restless as a nest-deserted bira.

Grown chill through something beins away, though what —
It knows not. So mothers have Goa's license to be missed."

My guardians were noble, kind, high-toned, honorable gentle
men, and I owe them thanks, but ah 1 a girl should be ward
only to those who gave her being; and mother — ^brown-eyed
mother, sweet and holy, it would have been better for your
child had she shared her past with none but you. Do I weary
you with my babble) If so, lay your hand upon my mouth,
and I will watch your dear face and be silent."

In answer the mother stooped, and kissed many times the
perfect lips that smiled at the pressure ; but the likeness to a
mouth duigerously sweet, treacherously beautiful, mocked her,
and Regina saw her turn away her eyes, and felt rather than
heard the strangled moan.

" Mother-kisMs, the sweetest relic of Eden that followed Eve
into a world of pain. All these dreary years, I have kept your
memory like a white angel-image, set it up for worship, offered
it the best part of myself; and I know I have grown jealously
exacting where you are concerned. I studied, because I wished
you to be proud of me ; I practised, simply that my music
might be acceptable and pleasant to you, and when people
praised me, said I was pretty, I rejoiced, that one day I might
be considered worthy of you. Something wounded me when at*
last we met. Let me tell you, my dearest, that you may take
out the thorn, and heal the grieved spot. The day I came —
how long ago? (for I am in a delicious dream, have been eating
the luscious lotos of realized hope) — the day I came and saw a
new, glorious sun shining from my mother's eyes, you ran to
meet me. I hear you again, ' My baby ! my baby ! ' as you
rushed across the floor. You opened your arms, and w uc . you
clasped me to your bosom, you bent my head back and ^azed
at me — oh ! how eagerly, hungrily ; and I saw your face turn

INFELIOE.

419

ghastly whittt, and a great agony sweep across it, and the lips
that kisaed me were oold and quivering. To me it was itll
sweet as heaven ; but the cup of delight I drained had bitter
drops for you. Mother, tell me, were you disappointed in your
daughter 1"

'* No, darling, no. The little blue-eyed child has grown into
a woman of whom the haughtiest mother in the land might be
proud. My darling is all I wish her.'

" Ah mother ! the flattery is inexpressibly sweet, falling like
dew on parched leaves ; but the eyes of your idolntrous baby
have grown very keen, and I know that the sight of me brings
you a terrible pain you cannot hide. Last night, when Mrs.
Waul made me shake out my hair, to show its length, and
praised it and my eyebrows, you dropped my hand and walked
away ; and in the mirror on the weJl I saw your countenance
shaken with grief. What is it f We have been apart so long,
do take me into your heart fully ; tell me why you look at me,
and turn aside, and shiver % "

Her clasping arms tightened about her mother's waist, and
after a short silence Mrs. Orme exclaimed :

** It is true. It has always been so. From the hour when
you were bom, and your little round head black with silky
locks was first laid upon my arm, your face stabbed me like a
dagger, and your eyes are blue steel that murder my peace.
My daughter, my daughter, you are the exact counterpart, the
beautiful image of your father t It is because I see in your
eyes, so wonderfully blue, the reproduction of his, and about
your mouth and brows the graceful lines of his, that I shudder
while I look at you. Ah my darling ! Is it not hard that your
beauty should sting like a serpent, the mother whose blood
filled your veins 1 The very' tones of your voice, the carriage
of your head, even the peculiar shape of your fingers and nails
are his — all his ! Oh my baby ! my white lamb ! my precious
little one, if I had not fed you from my bosom, cradled you in
my arms, realized that you were indeed flesh of my flesh, my
own unfortunate, unprotected, disowned baby, I believe I should
hate you ! "

She bowed her head in her hands and groaned aloud.

** Forgive me, mother. If I had ir^agined the real cause, I
would never have inquired. Let it pass. Tell me nothing
that will bring such a storm of grief as this. €rod knows I
wish I resembled you, only you."

420

UTFELIQS.

Sh«» covered her mother's hands with kisses, and tears
gathered in her eyes.

" No— God knew best, and in His wisdom, His mercy for
widowhood and orphanage, He stamped yoar father's unmis-
takable likeness indelibly upon you. Providentially a badge
of honourable parentage was set upon the deserted infiuit, which
neither fraud, slander nor perjury can ever remove. The lawa
God set to work in nature, defy the calumny, the corruption,
the vindictive persecution and foul injustice cloaked under
legal statutes, human decrees; and though a world swore to
the contrary, your face proclaims your father, and his own
image will hunt him through all his toils and triumphantly
confront him with Ins crime. No jury ever empanelleid could
see you side by side with your father and dare to doubt that
you were his child! ^o, bitter as are the memories your
countenance recalls, I hold it the keenest weapon in the armory
of my revenge." ' '

" Let us talk of something that grieves and agitates you less.
May I sing you a song, alw&ys associated with your portrait,
an invocation sacred to my lovely mother 1 "

"No — sometime you must know the history I have carefully
hidden from all but Mr. Falma, and your dead guarcUan ; and
now that the bitter waves are already roaring over me, why
should I delay the narration ) It was not my purpose to tell
you thus, 1/ thought it would too completely unnerve me, and I
wrote the story of my life in the form of a drama, and called it
Infelice / But the recital is in Mr. Ohesley's hands for perusal^
and I shall feel stranger, less oppressed when I have talked
freely with you. Kiss me, my pure darlii^, my own little
nameless treasure, my fatherless baby, for indeed I need the
elixir of my daughter's love to keep me human, when I dwell
upon the past."

She strained the girl to the heart, thai put her away and
rose. Opening a strong metallic box concealed in a drawer of
Uie dressing-table, she took out several papers, some yellowed
with age, and bluired with tears, and while R^ina still sat, with
her arm resting on the chair, Mrs. Orme locked the door, and
began to walk slowly up and down the room. >

** One moment, mothev. I want to know why my heart is
drawn so steadily and so powerfully toward Mr. Ohesley, and
why something in his face reminds me tenderly of you 1 Are
you quite willing to tell me why he seems so deeply interested
in mel"

INFBLIOJS.

421

rs
>r

>r
o
n

" £«gina, have you never guessed 1 Orme Ohesley is my
uncle, my mother's only brother."

" Oh, how rejoiced I am ! I hoped he was in some mysteri-
ous way related to us, but I feared to lean too much upon the
pleasant thought, lest it proved a disappointment. My own
uncle ) What a blessing 1 Does Mr. Pahna know it V*

*' Mr. Palma first suspected and traced the relationship, and
it was from him that Uncle Orme learned of my existence, for
it appears, he believed me dead. Mr. Palma has long held all
the tangled threads of my miserable history in his skilful hands,
and to his prudent, patient care you and I shall owe our salva-
tion. For years he has been to me the truest, wisest, kindest
friend a deserted and helpless woman ever foimd."

Begina sank her hand upon the chair, afraid that her radiant
face might betray the joy his piuises kindled ; and while she
walked Mrs. Orme began her recital :

" My grandfather Hubert Chesley was from Alsace ; my
grandmother originally belonged to the French family of Ormes.
They had two children, Orme the eldest, and Minetta who,
while very young, married a travelling musician from Switzer-
land, named IA>n Merle. A year a^r she became his wife,
her ^ther died, and the family resolved to emigrate to America.
On the voyage, which was upon a crowded emigrant ship, I was
bom ; and a few hours after my mother died. They buried her
at sea, and would to God I too had been thrown into the
.waves, fcH: then this tale of misery would never torture inno-
cent ears; But children who have only a heritage of woe, and
ought to die, fight for existence, defying adversity, and thrive
stiungely ; so I luckily survived.

" My first recollections are of a pauper quarter in a large
city, where my father supported us scantily, by teaching music.
Subsequently we removed td several villages, and finally settled
in one, where were located a college for young gentlemen, and
a seminary for girls. In the latter my father was employed as
musical professor, and here we lived vetf comfortably, until he
died, <^ congestion of the lungs. Uncle Orme at that time was
in feeble health, and unable to contribute toward our mainten-
ance, and soon after father's death, he went out to California to
the mining regioa I was about ten years old when he left, and
recollect him as a pale, thin, delicate man. In those days it
cost u good deal of money to reach the gold mines, and this
alone prevented him fi*om taking us vrith him.

422

JXfFBIdOK

" We were very poor, but grandmother was foolisUy, incon-
sistently proud, and though compelled to sew for our daily
bread she dressed me in a style incompatible with our poverty,
and contrived to send me to school. Finally her eyes failed,
and with destitution staring open-jawed upon us, she reluctantly
consented to do the washing and mending for three college boys.
She was well educated, and inordinately vain of her blood, and
how this galling necessity humiliated her ! We of course could
employ no servant, and once when she was confined to her bed
by inflammatory rheumatism, I was sent to the college to carry
the clothes washed and ironed that week. It was the only time
I was ever permitted to cross the campus, but it sufficed to
wreck my life. On that luckless day I first met Cuthbert
Laurance, then only nineteen, while I was not yet fifteen.
Think of it, my darling ; three years younger than you are now, .
and you a mere child still ! While he paid me the money due,
he looked at, and talked to me. Oh my daughter ! my daughter !
As I see you at this instant, with your violet eyes watching me
from under those slender, black arches, it seems the very same
regular, aristocratic, beautiful face that met me that wretched
afternoon, beneath the branching elms that shaded the campus !
So courteous, so winning, so chivalric, so indescribable hand-
some did he present himself to my admiring eyes. I was young,
pretty, an innocent, ignorant, foolish child, and I yielded to the
fascination he exerted.

" Day by day the charm deepened, and he sought numerous
opportunities of seeing me again ; gave me books, brought me
flowers, became the king of my waking thoughts, the god of
my dreams. In a cottage near us lived a widow, iM!rs. Peter-
son; whose only child Peleg, a rough overgro^vll lad, was a
journeyman carpenter, and quite skilful in carving wooden
figures. We had grown up together, and he seemed particularly
fond of and kind to me, rendering me many little services which
a stalwart man can perform for a delicate petted young creature
such as I was then.

" As grandmother's infirmity increased, and her strict super-
vision relaxed, I met Cuthbert more frequently, but as yet
without her knowledge; and gradually he won my' chilcUsh
heart completely. His father. General Rene Laurence, was a
haughty wealthy planter resicUng in one of the Middle States,
and Cuthbert was his only child, the pride of his heart and
home. Those happy days seem a misty dream to me now, I

INFELICB.

423

have 8o utterly outgrown the faith that lent a glory to that early
time. Cuthbert assured me of his affection, swore undying
allegiance to me ; and like many other silly, trusting, inex-
perienced, doomed jaxmg fools, I believed every syllable that
he whispered in my ears.

" One Sabbath when grandmother supposed I. was saying my
prayers in the church, which I had left home to attend, I stole
away to our trysting place in a neighbouring wood that bor-
dered a small stream. Oh the bitter fruits of that filial dis-
obedience ! The accursed harvest that ripened for me, that it
seems, I shall never have done gai ring ! Clandestine inter-
views — concealed, because I kne^v prohibition would follow dis-
coverer! I am a melancholy monument of the sin of deception ;
and that child who deliberately snatches the reins of control
from the hands where God decrees them, and dares substitute
her will and judgment for those of parents or guardians, drives
inevitably on to ruin, and will live to curse her folly, lliat day
Peleg was fishing, and surprised us at the moment when Cuth-
bert was bending down to kiss me. Having heard all that
passed, he waited till evening, and finding me in the little
garden attached to our house, he savagely upbraided me for
preferring Cuthbert's society to his ; claimed me as his, by right
of devotion, and when I spurned him indignantly, and forbade
him to speak to me in future, he became infuriated, rushed
into the cottage, and disclosed all that he had discovered."

" I knew it ! I felt assured you must always have loathed
him !" exclaimed Regina, with kindling eyes, and catching her
mother's dress as she passed beside her.

"Why, my darling?"

*' Because he was coarse, brutal ! When he dared to call you
' Minnie' — if I had been a man, I would have strangled him ! "

Her mother kissed her, and answered sadly :

" And yet, he loved me infinitely better than the man for
whom I repulsed, nay, insulted him. He was poor, unpolished,
but at that time he would have died to defend me from harm.
It was reserved for his courtly, high-bred, elegant rival to betray
the trust he won ! The storm that followed Peleg's revelation
was fierce, and availing herself of his jealous surveUlance, grand-
mother allowed me no more stolen interviews. After a fortnight,
Cuthbert came one day and demanded permission to see me,
alleging that we were betrothed, and that he would give satift-
faotory explanations of his conduct. Qrandmoth«r was obdur-

il«Ut.aMI

424

INEELICE.

r i

ate, but unfortunately I ventured in, and seizing me in his
arms, he swore that all the world should not separate us. To
her he explained that his father desired him to marr j an heiresn
who lived not far from the paternal mansion, and possessed im^
mense estates, upon which the covetous eyes of the Lauranoes
had long been fixed; but until he completed his collegiate
course, matters must be delayed. He protested that he could
love no one but me, and solemnly vowed that as soon as freed
by his majority from parental control, he would make me his ->
wife. I was sufficiently insane to believe it all, but grandmother
was wiser, and sternly interdicted his visits.

'' A month went by, during which Peleg persecuted me with
professions of love, and offers of marriage. How I detested
him ; and, by contrast, how godlike appeared my refined, pol-
ished, proud young lover ? At length Cuthbert wrote to me,
entrusting the letter to a college chum, Gerbert Audr^ ; but
Peleg's argus scrutiny could not be baffled, and again I waf
detected.

" Meantime grandmother's strength was evidently failing, and
Uncle Orme was far away in Western wilds ; who would save
me from my own rash folly if she should die, and leave me un-
protected ) This apprehension preyed ceaselessly on her mind,
she grew morose, moody, tyraxmical ; and when finally Cuthbert
came once more, forcing an entrance into the little cottage,
and asking upon what conditions he might be permitted to vi&it
me, she bluntly told him that she had determined to take me
at all hazards to a convent, and shut me up forever, unless
within forty-eight hours he married me. The thought of sepa-
ration made him almost frantic, and after some discussion, it
was arranged that we should be married very secretly in a dis-
tant town, with only grandmother and his room-mate Audr6 as
witnesses. Our union would be concealed rigidly until Cuth-
bert had left college and attained his minority, which was then
nearly two years distant ; at which time he would enter upon
the possession of a certain amount of property left by his mother.
An approaching recess of several days, whidi would enable him
to absent himself without exciting suspicion, was selected as an
auspicious occasion for the consummation we all so ardently de-
sired, ind very quietly the preliminary steps were taken.

" By what stratagem or fraud a license was obtained, I never
learned, and was too ignorant and imsuspicious to question or
undersUmd the forms essential to legality. One stormy nigbt

•^

INFELICB.

425

<<;

we were driven across the country to a railway station, hurried

aboard the train, and next morning reached the to^nof Y .

At the Parsonage you know so well, we found Mr. Hargrove,
who appeared very reluctant to accede to our wishes. I was
only fifteen, a simple-hearted child, and Cuthbert, though well
grown, was too youthful to assume the duties of the position for
which he presented himself as candidate. The faithful prudent
pastor expostulated, &nd declared himself unwilling to bind a
pair of children by ties so solemn and indissoluble ; but the
license was triumphantly exhibited as a release from ministerial
responsibility, and grandmother urged in extenuation, that in
the event of her death I would be thrown helpless upon the
world, and she as my sole surviving protector and guardian, de-
sired to see me entitled to a husband's care and shelter.

*' At last, with an earnest protest, the conscientious man con-
sented, and standing before him that sunny morning, in the
presence of God, and of Grrandmother and Mr. Audr6, Cuthbert
Laurance and Minnie Merle were solemnly married ! Oh, my
daughter ! when I think of that day and its violated vows, when
I remember what I was, and contrast the Minnie Merle of my
girlhood with the blasted, wretched ruin that I am, my brain
reels, my veins run fire ! "

She clasped her palms across her forehead, and moaned, as
the deluge of bitter recollections overflowed her.

Tears were stealing down Regina's cheeks, as she watched the
anguish she felt powerless to relieve, and she began to realize
the depth of woe that had blackened all her past.

** He promised to love, honour, cherish me, as long as life
lasted, and Mr. Hargrove pronounced me his wife, and blessed
me. How dared we expect a blessing 1 Cuthbert knew that
he was defying, outraging his father's wishes, and I had earned
my title by deception and disobedience. God help all those
who build their hopes upon the treacherous sands of human con-
tstanoy. Mr. Hargrove laid his hand upon my head, and said in
a strangely warning tone, which I might have known was pro-
phetic : " Mrs. Laurance, you are the youngest wife I ever saw,
you are not fit to be out of the nursery, but I trust this union
will not fulfil my forebodings ; that the i-esult will sanction my
most reluctant performance of this hallowed ceremony.'

** How supremely happy I was ! how unutterably proud of my
handsome tender husband ! I do not know whether even then,
he truly loved me, or if he merely intended me as a pietty toy

A A

\t Y

426

INFSLICE,

to amuse him during the tedium of college sessions ; I only re<
member my delirious delight, my boundless exultation. We
returned home, and Cuthbert resumed his college studies, but
through the co-operation of his room-mate, he spent much of
his time in our cottage. Peleg became troublesome, and invid-
ious reports were set afloat. I am not aware whether grand-
mother had always intended to publish the marriage as soon as
consummated, or whether her breach of faith sprang from some
facts she subsequently discovered ; but certainly she distrusted
Cuthbert's sincerity of purpose, and taking Peleg into her confi-
dence, despatched him to inform Gen. Laurance of all that had
occurred. From that hour Peleg Peterson became my most
implacable and dangerous foe.

'* Dreaming of no danger, Cuthbert ani I had spent but three
weeks of wedded happiness, when, withou.; premonition, the sun
of my joy was suddenly blotted out. A letter arrived, speedily
followed by a telegram summoning him t'i the bedside of hi9
father, who was dangerously ill. Oh, fool that I was ! I fancied
heaven designed tc> remove a cruel parent, and thus obliterate
all obstacles to the completion of my bliss. What blind dolts
young people are ! Cuthbert was restless, suspicious, unwilling
to leave me, or appeared so, and when we parted he took me in
his arms, kissed away my tears, implored heaven to watch over
his bride, his treasure, his wife, and swore that at the earliest
possible moment he would hold ' darling Minnie ' to his heart
once more. Turn away your face Regina, for it too vividly, too
intolerably recalls his image as he stood bidding me farewell ;
his glossy black hair clinging in rings around his white brow,
his magnetic blue eyes gazing tenderly into mine ! Oh, the
wonderful charm of that beautiful treacherous face ! Oh, hus-
band of my love ! father of my innocent baby ! "

She threw herself into a comer of the sofa, and the dry sob
that shook her frame told how keen was the torture. Begina
followed, kneeling in front of her, burying her face in hei
mother's dress.

" I saw him enter the carriage and drive away, and thirteen
years passed before I looked upon him again. Of course the
reported illness was a mere ruse to lull his apprehension^ . His
father received him with a hurricane of reproaches, threats,
maledictions. He taunted, jeered him with having been hood-
winked, cajoled, outwitted by a ' wily old wash-woman,' who had
inveigled him into a disgraceful mesalliance in order to betray

mm^^mi

INFELICE,

mwgn^

427

bim, to fasten upon and devour his wealth. One letter only I
i-eceived from Cuthbert, denouncing grandmother's treachery
and announcing his father's rage, and threats to disinherit and
(iKsown him if he did not repudiate the marriage, which he stated
was invalid on account of his son's minority. He wrote that
he would be compelled for the present to accede to his father's
wishes, since for nearly two years at least, he was wholly de-
pendent on his bounty, but assured me that on the day when
he could claim his inheritance from his mother, he would
acknowledge his marriage at all hazards, and proclaim me his
wife. That letter, the first and last I ever received from my
husband, you can read at your leisure. Three days after it was
dated he and his father sailed for £urope, and he has never
returned to America.

" Although it was a cruel blow to all my brilliant anticipa-
tions, I did not even then dream of the fate designed for me.
I loved on, trusted on, hoped, oh how sanguinely ! My pride
was piqued at Gen. Laurance's haughty, supercilious scorn of
my birth and blood, and I deteimined to fit myself for the proud
niche I would one day fill as Cuthbert's wife. My grandmother
spoke French fluently, it was her vernacular ; and my father
had left some valuable and choice books. To these I turned
with avidity, prosecuting my studies with renewed zest. About
three months after my husband left me Uncle Orme sent money
to defray our expenses to California. Grandmother, who fore-
boded the future, told me I had been sacrificed, abandoned,
repudiated, and urged me to accompany her. In return, I
indignantly refused, charging her with havii^g fired the temple
of my happiness, by the brand of her betrayal of the secret.
Becriminations followed, we parted in anger and she left me, to
join Uncle Oi*me, but not before acquainting me with the
startling fact, that Peleg Peterson had declared his determina-
tion to annul the marriage by furnishing infamous testimony
against my character.

" After her departure, a man who acted as agent for Gen.
Lanrance called to negotiate for a separation, advising me to
make the best terms in my power, as it was useless for me to at-
tempt to cope with Gen. Lanrance, who would mercilessly ccush
mo if necessary, by the publication of disgraceful slandei-s which
my " old lover Peleg Peterson " had sworn to prove in open
court. He offered me five thousand dollars and my passage to
San Francisco, on condition of ray renouncing all claim to the

428

INFELICE.

hand and name of Cuthbert Laurance. My husband he assured
me had reached his father's house in a state of intoxication; and
had since become convinced of my unworthiness, and of the
necessity of severing forever all connection with me. Not fdr
an instant did I credit him. It seemed a vile machination, and
I scornfully rejected all overtures for separation, proclaiming
my resolution to assert and maintain my rights as a lawful wife.
It was open war, and how they derided my proud demand for
recognition !

" Mr. Audr6 left college the week afber Outhbert was called
so unexpectedly away, and disappeared ; and grandmother died
suddenly with rheumatism of the heart, when only a few miles
distant from the harbor of her destination. Peleg audaciously
proposed that we should ignore the empty worthless marriage
ceremony, accept the Laurance bribe and go away to the fSiT
West, where we might begin life anew. He told me my hus-
band believed me unworthy, that he had convinced him I would
dishonour his noble name, and that my reputation was at his own
mercy. In my amazement and horror I defied him, dared him
to do his worst; and recklessly he accepted the rash challenge.
Leaving no clue (as I imagined), I secretly quitted the village,
where gossip was busy with my name, and went to New York.
My scanty means rapidly melted away, and I hired myself as a
seamstress in a wealthy family. Not even at this stage of affairs
did I lose faith in my husband, and bravely I confronted the
knowledge that at no distant period I should be forced to pro-
vide for a helpless infant.

" One day, in going down a steep flight of steps, with a heavy
waiter in my hands, I missed my footing, fell, — and was picked
up senseless on the tiled floor at the foot of the stairs. A phy-
sician living near was called in, and as I was only the seam-
stress, the information he gave my employer, induced her to
send me immediately to the hospital — ^for pauper women. One
of my ankles was fractured, and the day after my admission to
the hospital, you were bom — prematurely. In a ward of that
hospital, surrounded by strange but kind sympathetic faces,
you my darling opened your blue eyes, unwelcomed by a
father's love, unnoticed by your wretched mother ; for I was
delirious for many days, and you were three weeks old, Vhen
first I knew you were my baby. Ah my daughter ! why did
not a merciful God order us both out of the world then, before
it persecuted and bruised us so cruelly ) I have wished a thou-

INFELIOE.

429

Muxd times, that you had died before I ever recognized you as
mine !"

" Oh Mother ! Mother, pity me. !Do not reproach me with
the life I owe to you."

Begina's features writhed, and pressing her face closer against
her mother's knee, she sobbed unrestrainedly :

'' My darling — blessings often come so thoroughly disguised
that we brand them as curses, learning later that they gamer
all our earthly hopes, sometimes our heavenly ; and when I
look at you now, my soul yearns over you with a love too deep
for utterance. I know that you were bom to avenge your
wrongs and mine, to aid by your baby fingers in lifting the
load of injustice and libel that has so long borne me down.
You are the one solitary comfort in all the wide earth, and but
for you, I should have given up the struggle long ago."

Softly she stroked the silky hair and tearful cJ^eek, and lean-
ing back continued :

" While I was still an inmate of the hospital, where I was
known as Minnie Merle, Peleg Peterson found me, and pro-
claimed himself your father. He was partly intoxicated at the
time, anj^ was forcibly ejected ', but the excitement of that das-
tardly horrible charge threw me into a relapse, and I was dan-
gerously ill. Ljring beside me on my cot, I watched your little
face, through the slow hours of convalescence, and your tiny
hands seemed to strengthen me for the labour that beckoned me
back to life. For yOur dear sake, I must brave the future. To
one of the noble-hearted gentle Sisters of Charity who visited
the hospital and ministered like an angel of mercy to you and
me, I told enough of my history to Explain my presence there,
and through her influence when I was strong enough to work,
I was placed in a position where I was permitted to keep you
with me for a year. As I knew that my only safety lay in
hiding for a time from my enemy, and destroying all trace of
my departure from the hospital, I assumed the name of Odille
Orphia Orme, which had belonged to a sister of my grandmother.

'' I was not sixteen when you were born, and having had my
head shaved during my illness, my hair grew out the bright
gold you see it now, instead of the dark brown it had hitherto
been. A strange freak of nature, but a providential aid to the
disguise I wished to maintain. I wrote to Outhbert, informing
him of your birth, praying his speedy return ; but no reply
came — and again and again I repeated the petition. At lei^th

430

INFSUOE,

I was answered by the return of all my letters, without a line
of comment. Then I began to suspect what was in store for
me, but it threatened to drive me wild ; and I shut my eyes —
and refused to think, set my teeth, and hoped, hoped still. The
two years had almost expired, and when Cuthbert was of age,
he would fly to his wife and child, solacing them for all they
had endured. I could not afford to doubt ; that way lay mad-
ness !

"When you were fourteen months old, I put you in an
Orphan Asylum, where I could see you often, and took a situa-
tion as upper maid and seamstress in a fashionable family on
Fifth Avenue. My duties were light, my employers were con-
siderate and kind, and the young ladies, observing my desire to
improve myself, gave me the privileges of the library, which
was well selected and extensive. They were very cultivated,
elegant people, and I listened to their conversation, observed
their depo^-^^ment, and modelled my manners after the example
they furnished. I was so anxious to astonish Cuthbert by my
grace and intelligence, when he presented me to his father, and
I exulted in the thought that even he might one day be proud
of his son's wife. ^

" How I struggled and toiled, sewing by day, reading, study-
ing by night. Finding Eacine, Euripides and Shakespeare in
the library, I perused them carefully, and accidentally I discov-
ered my talent. The ladies of the house on one occasion had
private theatricals, and the play was one with which I chanced
to be familiar. At the last rehearsal — on the night of the play,
one of the young ladies was suddenly seized with such violent
giddiness, that she was unable to appear in the character she
peraonated, and in the dilemma I was summoned. So success-
ful was my performance that I saw the new path opening be-
fore me, and began to fit myself for it. 1 gave every spare
moment t/O dramatic studies, and was progressing rapidly, when
all hope was crushed."

" Cuthbert's birthday came, days, weeks, months rolled by,
and I wrote one more passionate prayer for recognition ; plead-
ing that at least he would allow me to see him once again, that
he would just once look at the lovely face of his child ; then if
he disowned both wife and child, we would ask him no more.
How I counted the weeks that crawled away; how fondly I still
hoped that now, being of a^e and free, he would fulfil his pro-

mise.

i:*

JNFELIOE.

431

You were two years and a half old, and I went one Sunday
to visit you.

" How well I recollect your appearance on thatr fatal Jay.
Your bare pearly feet gleaming on the floor over which J
guided your uncertain steps, as you tottered along clinging to
my finger, your dimpled neck and arms displayed by the white
muslin slip my hands had fashioned, your jetty hair' curling
thick and close over your round head, your small milk-white
teeth sparkling through your open lips, as your large soft v^'o-
let eyes laughed up in my face ! so glad you were to see me '
You had never seemed so lovely befoie, and I knelt down and
hugged you, my darling. I kissed your dainty feet and hands,
your lips and eyes — so like Cuthbert's, and I know as I car-
ressed you my heart swelled with the fond pride that only
mothers can undei-stand and feel, and I whispered — Papa's
baby ! Papa's own darling ! Cuthbert's baby !"

" It was harder than usual to quit you that day ; you clung
to me, nestled close to me, stole your little hand into my bosom,
and finally fell asleep. When I laid you softly down in your
low truckle-bed, the tears would come and hang on my
lashes, and wh>le I lingered, passing my hand over your dear
pretty feet, I determined that if Cuthbert did not come, or
write very soon, I would take you and go in search of him.
What man could shut his arms and heart, against such a lovely
babe who owed him her being?"

" It was late when I got home, and tue lady with whom I
lived, sent for me in great haste. Guests had unexpectedly
come from a distance, dinner must be served, and the butler
had been called away inopportunely to one of his children, who
had been terribly scalded. Could I oblige her by consenting to
serve the visitors at table % She was a good mistress to me, and
of course I did not hesitate. One of the guests was a nephew
of the host, and recently returned from Europe, as I learned
from the conversation. When the dessert was being set upon
the table, he said : ' Ko — I rather liked him ; none are perfect
and ho has sowed his wild oats and settled down. Mariiage is
a strong social anchor, and his bride is a very heavy-looking
woman, though enoimously rich I hear. It is said that his
father manoeuvred the match, for Cuthbert liked being fancy-
free."

" The name startled me, and the master of the house asked :
" Of whom are you speaking ?" " Cuthbert Laurance and his

432

JNFELICB.

II n

recent marriage with Abbie Ames — the banker's daughter. My
mistress pulled my dress and directed me to bring a bottle of
champagn^ from tiie side table. I stood like a stone and she
repeated the command. As I lifted the wine and started back,
the stranger added : " Here is an account of the wedding ; quite
a brilliant affair, and as I witnessed the nuptials I can testify
the description is not exaggerated. They were married in
Paris, and General Laurance presented the bride with a beau-
tiful set of diamonds.' The bottle fell with a crash, and in the
confusion, I tottered towards the butler's pantry — and sank
down insensible.

'* Oh the awful, intolerable agony that has been my portion
ever since ! Do you wonder that Laurance is a synonyme for
all that is cruel, wicked ? Is it strange that at times I loathe
the sight of your face, which mocks me with the assurance that
you are his — as well as mine 9 Oh most unfortunate child !
cursed with the fatal beauty of him who wrecked your mother'ii^
life, and denies you even his infamous name !"

She sprang up, broke away from her daughter's arms, and
resumed her walk.

" After that day, I was a different woman, hard, bitter, re-
lentless, desperate. In the room of hope reigned hate, and I
dedicated the future to revenge. I had heard Mr. Falma's
name mentioned as the most promising lawyer at the Bar, and
though he was a young man then, he inspired all who knew
him with confidence and respect. Withholding only my hus-
band's name, I gave him my history, and sought legal advice.
A suit wculd result in the foul and fatal aspersion, which Peleg
was waiting to pour like an inky stream upon my character,
and we ascertained that he was in the pay of the Laurances,
and would testify according to their wishes and purposes. There
was no proof of my marriage, unless Mr. Hargrove had pre-
served the license, the record of which had been destroyed by
the burning of the court-house. "Where were the witnesses 1
Grandmother was dead, and it was rumored Mr. Audr6 had
perished in a fishing excursion off the Labrador coast.

'' Mr. Palma advised me to wait, to patiently watch for an
opportunity, pledging himself to do al! that legal skill could
effect ; and nobly he has redeemed his promise to the desolate,
friendless, broken-hearted woman who appealed to him for aid.

" I succeeded after several repulses, in securing a very humble
position in one of the small theatres, where I officiated first

INFELWE.

433

7
af

n
1-

le
k

with soiitsors and needle, in fitting costumes and in rarioiiH
other menial employments ; studying ceaselessly all the while
to prepare myself for the stage. The manager became inter-
ested, encouraged me, tested me at rehearsals, and at last, after
an arduous struggle, I made my d&hut at the benefit of one of
the stock actors. My name was adroitly whispered about, one
or two mysterious paragraphs were published at the expense of
the actor, and so, curiosity gave me an audience, and an oppor-
tunity.

" That night seemed the crisis of my destiny ; if I failed,
what would become of my baby 1 Already, my love, you were
my supreme thought. But I did not, my face was a great
success \ my acting was pronounced wonderful by the dramatic
critic to whom the beneficiary sent a complimentary ticket, and
after that evening I had no difficulty in securing an engage-
ment that proved very successful.

" A year after I learned that Cuthbert had married a second
time, I went to V to see Mr. Hargrove, and obtained pos-
session of my license. The good man only gave me a copy,
to which he added his certificate of the solemnization of my
marriage ; but he sjrmpathized very deeply with my unhappy
condition and promised in any emergency to befriend you, my
darling. A few hours after I left the Parsonage it was entered
and robbed, and the license he refused me, was stolen. Long
afterward I learned he suspected me."

Here Regina narrated her discovery of the mysterious facts
connected with the loss of the paper, and her first knowledge
of Peleg Peterson. As she explained the occurrences that
succeeded the storm, Mrs. Orme almost scowled, and resumed :

" He has been the hete noire of my ill-starred life, but even
his malice has been satiated at last. Anxious to shield you
from the possibility of danger, and from all contaminating in-
fluences and association, I carried you to a distant convent;
the same with which grandmother had theatened me^ and placed
you under the sacred shadow of the Nuns' protection. Then
assured of your safety, and that your education would not be
neglected, I devoted myself completely to my profession. From
city to city I wandered in quest of fame and money, both so
essential to the accomplishment of my scheme ; a scheme that
goaded me sleeping and waking, leaving no moment of repose.

"One night in Chicago, having overtaxed my strength, I
fainted on the street, en route from the theatre, and whDe my

434

INFELICE.

servant fled for assistance, I was found by Mr. and Mrs. Waul,
and taken to their home. Their kind hearts warmed toward
me, and no parent could have been more tenderly watchful
than they have proved ever since. They supplied a need of
protection, of which I was growing painfully conscious, and I
engaged them to travel with me.

" Once I took three days out of my busy life, and visited the
old family homestead of Gren. Laurance. The owner was in
Europe, the house closed ; but standing unnoticed under the
venerable oaks that formed the avenue of approach to the an-
cestral halls of my husband, I looked at the stately pile, and
the broad fields that surrounded it, and called upon Heaven to
spare me long enough to see my child the regnant heiress of all
that proud domain. There I vowed that cost what it might, I
would accomplish my revenge, would place you there as owner
•of that noble inheritance."

" Through Mr. Falma's inquiries concerning the records, I as-
'certained that this property had been settled upon Cuthbert, on
the week of his second marriage. You were ten years old when'
I determined to go to Europe and consummate my plan. Peleg
had disappeared. -> .^ I knew that the other agent of the Lau-
rances had lost ail trace of me. You were so grieved because
I left for Europe without bidding you good-by ! Ah my sweet-
child ! You never knew that it was the hardest trial of my
life, to put the ocean between us, and that I was too cowardly
to witness your distress at the separation that was so uncertain
in duration.

" Could I have gone without the sight of my precious baby ?
I reached the convent about dusk, and informed the sistera
that I deemed it best to transfer you to the guardianship of two
gentlemen, one of whom would come and take you away, the
ensuing week. Through a crevice of the dormitory door, I
watched you undress, envied the gentle nun who gathered up
your long hair and tied over it the little white ruffled muslin
cap; and when you knelt by your small curtained bed, and re-
peated your evening prayers, addinof a special petition that
^' Heavenly Father would bless dear motlier and keep her safe"
I stifled my sobs in my handkerchief. When you were asleep
I crept in on tip-toe, and while Sister Angela held the lamp, I
drew aside the curtain and looked at you. How the sweet face
of my bab}'^ stirred all the tendeiness that was left in my em-
bittered nature ! As you slunibei-ed, you threw your feet out-

jgn

INFELiCE.

435

'■

fdde tlie cover, and murmured in your musical childish babble
something indistinct about "mother and our Blessed Lady."

"My heart yearned over you, but I could not bear the
thought of hearing your peculiarly plaintive wailing cry which
always pierced my soul so painfully, and I softly kissed your
feet and hurried away. Come, put your arms around my
neck, and kiss me, my lovely fatherless child !"

For some seconds Mrs. Orme held her in a warm embrace.

" There, sit down. Little remains to be told, but how bitter I
Here in Paris, while playing "Amy Robsart," I saw once
more, after the lapse of thirteen jears, the man who had so
contemptuously repudiated me. Eegina, if ever you are so un-
fortunate, so deluded, as to deeply and sincerely love Any man,
and live to know that you are forgotten, that another woman
wears the name and receives the caresses that once made heaven
in your heart, then, and only then, can you realize what I suf-
fered, while looking at Cuthbert, with that other creature at
his side, acknowledged his wife ! I thought I had petrified,
had ceased to feel aught but loathing and hate, but ah ! — the
agony of that intolerable, that maddening sight ! Ask God for
a shroud and colfin, rather than endure what I suffered that
night !"

She was too much engrossed by her mournful retrospective
task, to observe the deadly pallor that overspread Regina's face,
as the girl rested her head on the arm of the sofa and passed
her fingers across her eyes, striving to veil the image of one,
beyond the broad Atlantic's sweep and roar.

" At last I began to taste the sweet poison of my revenge.
Cuthbert did not suspect my identity, but he was strangely fas-
cinated by my face — and acting. Openly indifferent to the
woman, with whom his father had linked him, and provided
with no conscientious scruples, he audaciously expressed his ad-
miration, and contrived an interview, to commence his advances.
He avowed sentiments disloyal to the heiress who wore his
name and jewels, and insulting to me, had I been what he sup-
posed me, merely Odille Orme, a pretty actress. I repulsed and
derided him, forbidding him my presence ; and none can appre-
ciate the exquisite delight it afforded me to humiliate and
torture him. When it was a crime in the sight of man, he
really began to love the woman, who — in Grod's sight — was his
own lawful wife ; and his punishment was slowly approaching.

" My health gave way under the unnatuial pressure of acting

486

INFELICS.

evening after evening, with his handsome magnetic face watch<
ing every feature, every inflection of my voice. I was ordered
to rest in Italy, and when I learned I should there meet Qen>
era! Jjaurance, I consented to go. Before leaving Paris, I saw
the only child of that hideous iniquitous sham marriage ; and,
darling, when I contrasted you, my own pure pearl, with the
deformed, dwarfish, repulsive daughter — ^whom the Nemesis of
my wrongs gave to Outhbert, in little Maud Lauranoe — T almost
shouted aloud in my great exultation. You so beautiftil, with
his own lineaments in every feature, disowned for that mis-
shapen, imbecile heiress of his proud name. Oh mills of the
€k)d's ! how delicious the slow music of their grinding !

" Thus far, my daughter, I have shown you all your mother's
wretched past, and now I shrink from the last blotted pages.
Hitherto my record was blameless, but even now take care
how you judge the mother who, if she has gone astray, did.
it for you, all for you. For some time I had known that Cuth- ^
bert was living in reckless extravagance, that the affairs of the
father-in-law were dangerously involved, and that without his
own father's knowledge Outhbert had borrowed large sums in
London and Paris, securing the loans by mortgages on his real
estate in America ; especiidly the elegant homestead, preserved
for several generations in his family. Employing two shrewd
Hebrew brokers, I by degrees bought up those mortgages,
straining every effort to effect the purchase.

« When I reached Milan, I sat one night pondering what
was most expedient. It was apparent that in a suit for, and
publication of my real title, and rights, I should be defeated
by the disgrace hurled upon me ; and to subject the Laurances
to the humiliation of a court scandal, would poorly indemnify
me for the horrible strain which Peterson's foul daim would
entail upon your innocent but premature birth. My health
was feeble, consumption threatened my hrngs, and Mr. Palma
urged me to attempt no legal redress for my injuries. I could
not die without one more struggle to see you righted, clothed
with your lawful name. ..

** My daughter, my darling, let all my love for you plead
vehemently in my defence, when I tell you, that for your dear
sake I made a desperate, an awful, a sickening resolve. Qem.
Laurance was infatuated by my beauty, which has been a? fatal
to his house, as his name to me. Like many handsome old men,
he was inordinately vain, and imagined himself irresistible j

INFELIOB.

437

and when he persecuted me with attentions that might have
compromised a woman lees prudent and prudish than I bore
myself, I determined to force him to an offer of his hand, to
marry him."

With a sharp cry Regina sprang up.

" Mother — ^not him ! Not my father's father I "

" Yes, Bene Laurance, my husband's father."

With a gesture of horror, the girl groaned and covered her
white convulsed face.

" Mother ! Could my mother — commit such a loathsome,
awful crime against Gk)d, and nature % "

" It was for your sake, my darling ! " cried Mrs. Orme,
wringing her hands, as she saw the shudder with which her
child repulsed her.

" For my sake tljat you stained your dear pure hands ! For
my sake that you steeped your soul in guilt that even brutal
savages abhor, and loaded your name and memory with infamy 9
In lus desertion my father sinned against me, and freely, be-
cause he \n ' T father, I could forgive him 3 but you — ^the im-
maculate uj> .} of my lifelong worship, you who have reigned
white-soulec. \^a angelic over all my hopes, my aspirations,
my love and reverence — oh mother ! mother, you have doubly
wronged me ! The disgrace of your unnatural and heinous
crime, I can never, never pardon !"

With averted head she stood apart, a pitiable picture of
misery — ^that could find no adequate expression.

" My baby, my love, my precious daughter !"

Ah, the pleadmg pathos of that marvellous voice which had
swayed at will the emotions of Itirge audiences, as soft, fitful
zephyrs stir and bow the tender grasses in quiet meadows !
Slowly the girl turned around, and reluctantly looked at the
beloved beautiful face, tearful yet smiling, beaming with such
passionate tenderness upon her.

Mrs. Orme opened her arms and Eegina sprang forward,
sinking on her knees at her mother's feet, clinging to her dress.

" You could not smile upon me so, with that sin soiling your
soul ! Oh mother, say you did it not !"

" Ood had mercy, and saved me from it."

''Let us praise and serve him forever, in thanksgiving,
sobbed the daughter.

" I see now that my punishment would have been unendur-
able, for I should have lost the one true, pure heart that clings

438

INFELICB,

to me. How do mothers face their retribution, I wonder,
when they disgrace their innocent little ones, and see shame,
and horror, and aversion in the soft faces that slept upon their
bosoms and once looked in adoration at the heaven of their
eyes ? Even in this life, the pangs of the lost must seize all
such."

" I did not marry €ren. Laurance, though I entertained the
purpose of a merely nominal union, and he acceded to my con-
ditions, signing a maniage contract, to adopt you, give you his
name, settle upon you all his remaining fortune, except the
real estate, which I knew he had transferred to his son. I
think my intense hate and thirst for vengeance, temporarily
maddened me j for certainly had I been quite sane, I should
never have forced myself to hang upon the verge of such an
odious gulf. I was tempted by the prosppct of making you
the real heiress of the Laurance name and wealth, and of beg-
garing Cuthbert, his so-called wife and crippled child, by dis-
playing the mortgage I held j and which will yet sweep theW
to penury, for the banker has failed, and Abbie Ames is pen-
niless as Minnie Merle oiice was.

" While I floated down the dark stream to ruin, a blessed
interposing hand arrested me. Mr. Palma wrote that at last a
glorious day of hope dawned on my weary starless 'night. Qer-
bert Audr^ was alive and anxious to testify to the validity of
my marriage, and the perfect sanity and sobriety of Cuthbelft
when it was solemnized (his father was prepared to plead that
he was insane from intoxication when he was inveigled into
the ceremony); — and oh — ^better, best of all, my persecutor had
relented ! Peleg swore that his assertions regarding my char-
acter were untrue, were prompted by malice, stimulated by
Laurance gold. Having been arrested by Mr. Palma and car-
ried before a magistrate, he had written and signed a noble
vindication of me. To you he avows, I owe his tardy recanta-
tion and complete justification of my past ; and you will find
among those papers, his letter to me upbn this subject

" My daughter, what do we not owe to Erie Palma ? God
bless him — now^-and forever ! And may the dearest, fondest
wishes of his heart be fulfilled as completely, as have been his
promises to me."

Regina's face was shrouded by her mother's dress, but thii^k-
ing of Mrs. Carew, she sank lower at Mrs. Orme's feet, know-
ing ^hat her sad heaii) could not echo that prayer.

i.i.ij |jnaiii.aiiwiii>i vr^mmimmmmmm

'■•^

INFELICK

439

a k

'< As yet my identity has not been saspected, but the end is
at hand, and I am about to break the vials of wrath upon their
heads. Mr. Palma only waits to hear from me, to bring suit
against Cuthbert for desertion and bigamy and against Ken4
Laurance, the arch-demon of my luckless married life, for wilful
slander, premeditated defamation of character. My lawful un-
stained wifehood will be established, your spotless birth and
lineage triumphantly proclaimed ; and I shall see my own
darling, my Begina Laurance reigning as mistress in the halls
of her ancestors. To confront you with your father and grand-
father, I have called you to Paris, and when I have talked with
Uncle Orme, whose step I hear, I shall be able to tell you
definitely of the hour when the thunderbolt will be hurled into
the camp of our enemies. Kiss me good-night. Gtod bless my
child."

CHAPTER XXXII.

tFTEB. a sleepless night, Cuthbert Laurence sat in dres-
ing gown and slippers, before the table, on which was
arranged his breakfast. In his right hand he held
partly lifted, the cup of coffee ; upon the left he rested
his head, seeming abstracted, oblivious of the dainty
dishes that invited his attention.

The graceful inaoucicmce of the Sybarite had vanished, and
though the thirty-seven years of his life had dealt very gently
with his manly beauty, leaving few lines about his womanishly
fair brow, he seemed to-day gravely preoccupied, anxious and
depressed. Pushing back his chair, he sat for some time in a
profound and evidently painful reverie, and when his father
came in, and closed the door behind him, the cloud of appre-
hension deepened.

" Gbod-moming, Cuthbert, I must compliment you on your
early hours. How is Maud V

" I have not seen her this morning. Yictorine usually takes
her out at this time of day. I hope after a night's reflection
and rest, you feel disposed to afford me more comfort than you
extended last evening. The fact is, unless you come forward
and help uie, X shall be utterly ruined,"

wnmmmmms

w tm

440

IDFSLICE.

Gren. Laurance lighted his cigar, and staading before his son,
answered coldly :

" I beg you to recollect that my resources are not quite inex-
haustible, and last year when I gave that Chicago property to
you, I explained the necessity of curbing your reckless extrava-
gance. Were I possessed of Rothschild's income, it would not
suffice to keep upon his feet a man who sells himself to the
Devil of the Gaming Table, and entertains with the prodigality
of a Crown Prince. I never dreamed until last night that the
real estate at home 1" encumbered by mortgages, and it will be
an everlasting shame if the homestead should be sacrificed ; but
I can do no more for you. This failure of Ames is a disgraceful
affair, and I understand soils his reputation past all hope of
purification. How long does Abbie expect to remain in Nice 1
It does not look well, I can tell you, that she should go off and
leave Maud with her bonne"

" Oh ! for that matter Maud is better off here, where she can
be seen regularly by the physician, and Yictorine knows much\
better what to do for her, than her mother. Abbie is perfectly
acquainted with the change in her father's and in my own
affairs, and I should suppose she would have returned iijimedi-
ately after the receipt of the intelligence, especially as I iu'
formed her that we should be compelled to return to America."

" I shall telegraph her to come back at once, for I hear that
she is leading a very gay life at Nice, and that her conduct is
not wholly compatible with her duties as a wife and mother."

" An expression of subdued scorn passed over Cuthbert's face,
as he answered sarcastically :

" Probably your influence may avail to hasten her return.
As for her peculiar views, and way of conducting herself, I
imagine it is rather too late for you to indulge in fastidious
carpings, as you selected and presented her to me — as a suitable
bride, particularly acceptable to you for a daughter-in-law."

" When men live as you have done sin(^ your marriage, it
i • scarcely surprising that wives should emulate their lax ex-
ample. You have never disguised your indifference as a hus-
band."

" No Sir. When I made merchandise of my hand I deemed
that sacrifice sufficient, and have never pretended to include
my heart in the bargain. But why deal in recrimination 1 Past
misi<akKS are iri-emediable, and it behooves me to consider only
the future. W'ive it not for poor Maud, I really should care

INFEUCE.

very little, but her helplessness appeals to me now more forcibly
than all other considerations. You say, sir, that you cannot
help me, why not ? At this crisis a few shares of stock, and
some of those sterling beads would enable me to pay off my
pressing personal debts; and I could get away from Paris
with less annoying notoriety and scandal, which above all
things, I abhor. I only ask the means of roiiring from my as-
sociations here without disgrace, and once tUJ^ly owi, of France,
I shall care little for the future. You certainly cpinnct consent
to see me stranded here, wh« "^ my position and msnage have
been so proud V

QeufftBil Laurance puiTed vigorously at his ciga.r for some
seconds, then tossed it down, put his hands in his pockets, and
said abruptly ;

** When I told you last night that I could not help you, I
meant it. The stocks and bonds you require, have already
been otherwise appropriated. I daresay, Cuthbert, you will be
astonished at what I am about to communicate, but whatever
your opinion of the step I have determined to take, I request
in advance, that you will refrain from any disagreeable com-
ments. For thirty-seven years I have devoted myself to the
promotion of your iaterent and happiness, and you must admit,
you have often sorely tried my patience. If you have at last
made shipwreck of your favorable financial prospects, it is no
longer in my power to set you afloat again. Cuthbert, |I am on
the eve of assuming new responsibilities that require all the
means your luxurious mode of living has left me. I am going
to marry again."

« To marry again 1 Are you approaching your dotage f '

The son had risen, and his handsome face was full of undis-
guised scorn, as his eyes rested on his father's haughty, and
offended countenance.

" Whatever your dissatisfaction, you will be wise in repress-
ing it at least in your remarks to me. I am no longer young,
but am very far from senility ; and finding no harmony in your
household, no peaceful fireside where I can spend the residue
of my days in quiet, I have finally consulted the dictates of my
own heart, and am prompted by the hope of great haj^iness
with the woman whom I sincerely love, to marry her. Under
these circumstances you can readily appreciate my inability to
transfer the stocks, which it appears you have relied upon to
float you out of this financial storm."

9smt

442

INFELICE.

Cuthbert bowed profoundly, and answered contemptuously :

'' They have, I presume, already been transferred in the form
of a marriage contract? Pardon me, Sir, — but may I inquire
whom you design to fill my mother's place 1"

'' I expect within a few days to present to you as my wife,
the loveliest woman in all Europe, one as noble, refined, modest
and delicate as she is everywhere conceded to be beautiful, —
the celebrated Madame OdUle Orme."

An unconquerable embarrassment caused his eyes to wander
from his son's face as he pronounced the name, else he would
have discovered the start, the pallor with which the intelli-
gence was received. Cuthbert turned and stood at the window,
with his back to his father, and the convulsive movement of his
features attested the profound pain which the announcement
caused.

" Madame Onne is not an ordinary actress, and has alwa}^
maintained a reputation quite rare among those of her pro-
femion. I have carefully studied her character, think t^have
seen it sufficiently tested to satisfy even my fastidious standard
of female propriety and decorum ; and knowing how proudly
and jealously I guard my honour and my name, you may rest
assured I have net risked anything in committing both to the
keeping of this woman, to whom I am very deeply and tenderly
attached. She told me she had met you once. How did she
impress you V*

It cobtt him a strong e£Ebrt to answer composedly :

" She certainly is the most beautiful woman I have seen in
Europe."

" Ah ! and sweet as she is lovely ! My son,do not diminish
my happiness by unkind thoughts and expressions, which
would result in our estrangement. No father could have
devoted himself more assiduously to a child, than I have done
to you, and in my old age, if this marriage brings me so much
delight and comfort, have I not earned the right to consider my
own happiness % It is quite natural that you should be sur-
prised, and to some extent chagrined at my determination to
settle a portion of my property upon a new claimant for my
love and protection ; but I hope — for the sake of ^1 concerned,
you will at least indidge in no harah or disrespectful remarks.
I have been requested to invite you to accompany, me to the
theatre to-night, to witness Madame Orme's farewell to the
stage in a drama of her own composition. After this evening

INFELIOK

443

she appears no more in public, and at the close of the jday she
desires that we shall meet her at her hotel. I trust you will
courteously fulfil the engagement I have made for you, as I
assured her she might expect us both.".

He lighted a fr^ cigar, and drew on his gloves.

Cuthbex't hastily snatched a glass of water from the stand
near him, and laying his hand on the bolt of the door leading
to his sleeping room, looked over his shoulder at his father.

The face of the son was whitened and sharpened by acute
sufferiag and his blue eyes flashed with a peculiarly cold sar-
castic light as he exclaimed bitterly :

" That Qen. Laurance should so far forget the aristocratic
associations and memories of the past, as to wrap his ambitious
name around the person and character of a pretty coulisse queen,
certainly surprises his son, in whom he would never have for-
given such a m&soMcmce; but chctcnm d son gout! Permit
me, Sir, to hope, that my father may display the same infallible
judgment in selecting a bride for himself, that he so successfully
manifested in the choice of one for hiis son ; and the sincere
wish of my heart is, that your wedded life may prove quite as
rose-coloured and blissful as mine."

He bowed low, and disappeared ; and after a few turns up
and down the room, during which he smoothed his ruffled brow,
rejoicing that the announcement had been made, Gen. Laur-
ance went down to his carriage, and was driven to the hotel,
where he hoped to find Mrs. Orme.

For several days after the narration of her history to Begina,
the mother had seen comparatively little of her chUd, her time
being engrossed by numerous rehearsals, and the supervision
of some scene painting, which she considered essential to the
success of the play.

Only on the morning of the day appointed for its presenta-
tation, did Begina learn that in "Infelice** her mother had merely
written and dramatically arranged an accurate history of her
own eventful life. By this startling method she had long
designed to acquaint Gen. Laurance and his son, with her retu
nan^e, and the play had been very carefully cast and prepared ;
but) Begina heard with deep pain and humiliation of the vin-
dictive nature of the surprise arranged, and eloquently plead
thai the sacred past should not be profaned by casting it before
the public for criticism.

Mr. Chesley earnestly seconded her entreaties that even now

444

INFELIOE.

a change of programme might be eflfected, but Mm. Orme
sternly adhered to her purpose, declared it was too late for
alteration, and that she would not consent to forfeit the delight
of the .engeance, which alone sweetened the future, neither
would she permit her daughter to absent herself. A box had
been secured, where screened from observation Regina and Mr.
Ghesley could not only witness the play, but watch the two
men whose box was opposite.

When Gen. Laurance called and sent up a basket of choice
and costly flowers, begging for a moment's interview, Mrs.
Orme sent down in reply a tiny perfumed note, stating that
she was then hurrying to the last rehearsal, which it was abso-
lutely necessary she should attend ; and requesting that after the
close of the play, Gen Laurance and his son would do her the
honor to take supper at her hotel, where she would give him
a final and very definite answer, with regard to their nuptials.
While he read the billet and was pencilling a second appeal for
the privilege of escorting her to her rehearsal, she ran lightly
down stairs, sprang into a carriage and eluded him. -

Lett in possession of all the records relative to her mother's
history, and furnished for the first time with a printed copy
of " Infelice," Eegina spent a melancholy day in her own room.
Among the papers she found her father^s letter promising to
claim his wife as soon as he attained his majority ; and as she
noted the elegant chirography and glanced from the letter to
the ambrotype which represented Outhbert, as he looked at the
period of his marriage, a strangely tender new feeling welled
up in her heart, dimming her eyes with unshed tears.

It was her father's face upon which she looked, and some-
thing in those proud high-bred features, plead for him to the
soul of his child. True, he had disowned them, but could that
face deliberately hide premeditated treachery ) Might there
not be some defence, some extenuating circumstances, that
would lessen his crime )

Suddenly she sprang up and began to array herself in a walk-
ing suit. She would go and see her father, — ^learn what bad
induced his cruel course, and perhaps some mistake mighi be
discovered and corrected. She knew that this step would sub-
ject her to her mother's displeasure, but just then the girl's
heart was hardened against her, in consequence of her peisis-
tency in dramatizing a record which the daughter deemed too
mournfully solemn and sacred for the desecration of the boaid»
and footlights.

INFELIOB.

446

Grieved and mortified by this renolation, over whioh her
passionate invective and persuasion exerted not the slightest
influence, she availed herself of the absence of her mother and
Mrs. Waul, to leave the hotel, and get; into a carriage.

The Directory supplied her with tho address she sought, and
ere many moments she found herself in front of the stately,
palatial pile, in which Cuthbert Laurance had long dwelt.
Desiring to see Mr. Laurance on business, she was shown into
the elegant salon^ and when the servant returned to say that
he had left tho house but a few minutes before she entered, she
still lingered.

" Can I see Mrs. Laurance '\ "

" Madame is at Nice. Only Mademoiselle Maud is at home."

At that instant a side door opened, and a stout middle-aged
woman pushed be/ore her into the room a low chair placed on
wheels, in which sat Maud. At sight of the stranger, Yiotorine
turned to retreat with her charge, but Begiua made a quick
gesture to detain her, and went to the spot where the chair
rested.

Mand sat with her lap full of violets and mignonette, which
she was trying to weave into a bouquet, but arrested in her
occupation, her weird black eyes looked wonderingly on the
visitor. How vividly they contrasted, the slender symmetrical
figure of Begina, her perfect face and graceful bearing, with
the swarthy sallow dwarfed and helpless Maudi As the
former looked at the melancholy features, prematurely aged by
suffering, a well of pity gushed into her heart, and she bent
down and took one of the thin hands from which the flowers
were slipping unnoticed.

« Is this little Maud r'

" My name is Maud Ames Laurance. What is your name f
Why you are just like papa ! Do you know my papal"

" No dear, but I shall some day. I should very much like
to know you."

" You look so much like papa. You may kiss me if you
like."

She turned her sallow cheek for the salute, and Victorine
said:

" Is Mademoiselle a relative ? You are quite the image of
Mr. Laurance."

" Do you think so ! Where can I find Gen. Laurance ^
Does he reside here 1"

sss

^se:

^V -n*. ' J

440

INFBLiaS.

** Oh no ! He never has lived wifch us. Grandpapa
here this morning, but we were out in the park. Will you
have some flowers) Yonr eyes just match my violets! So
like papa's."

Regina gazed sorrowfully at the afflicted figure, and holding
those thin hot fingers in hers, she silently determined that tf
possible, the impending blow should be wwrded off from this
pitiable little sufferer.

" Did you come to see me 1" queried Maud.

" No, I called to see your papa on some business, and I am
sorry he is absent. Before long I shall come to see you, and
we will make bouquets and have a pleasant time. Qood-bye
Maud."

Remembering that she was her half-sister, B«gina lightly
kissed the hollow cheek of th«» invalid.

" Oood-bye. I shall a<ik papa where you got his eyes ; for
they are my papa's lovely eyes."

*' Has mademoiselle left her card with Jean ? " asked "Vlctor-
ine, whose curiosity was thoroughly aroused.

" I have not one with me."

** Then be pleased to give me your name." ,

" No matter now. I will come again, and then yon and
Maud shall learn my name."

She hastened out of the room, and when she reached her
mother's lodgings, met her uncle pacing the floor of the recep-
tion room.

* " Regina, where have you been 1 You are too total a stran-
ger here to venture out alone, and I beg that you will not r^
peat the imprudence. I have been really uneasy about your
mysterious absence."

" Uncle Orme, I wanted to see my father and I went to his
home."

She threw her hat on the sofa, and sighed heavily.

" My dear child, Minnie will never forgive your premature
disclosure ! "

" I made none, because he was not at home. Oh uncle, I
saw something that made my heart turn sick, with pity. I
saw that poor little deformed girl, Maud Laurance, and it
seems to me her haggard face, her utter wretchedness and
helplessness would melt a heart of steel ! I longed to take the
poor forlorn creature in my arms, and cry over her; and I tell
you, Uncle Orme, I will not be a party to her ruin and disgrace !

JNFBLWS

447

I will not, — I will not! I am strong and healthy, and Ood has
giyen me many talents, and raised up dear friends, you iinole,
the dearest of all, after mother ; but what has that unfortu-
nate onpple 1 Nothing but her father, (for she has been de-
serted by her mother) — and only her father's name. Do you
think I could see her beggared, reduced to poverty that really
pinched, in order that i might usurp her place as the Laur.
ance heiress 1 Never."

" My dear girl, the usurpation is on their part, not youn.
The name and inheritance is lawfully yours, and the attainment
of these rights for you has sustained poor Minnie through her
sad, arduous career."

*' Abstract right is not the only thing to be considered, at
such a juncture as this. Suppose I could chang^^ places with
that poor litle deformed creature, would you not i>aink it oru^f^l,
nay wicked, to turn me all helpless and forlorn out of a com-
fortable home into the cold world of want, a nameless wait'1
Uncle, I know what it is to be fatherless and nameless! All
of that bitterness and humiliation has been mine for years,
but now that my heart is at rest concerning my parentage, now
that / know there is no blemish on mother's past ? - "^rd,
I care little for what the world may think, and much, mv '^h
more, what that poor girl would suffer. To-day when I looked
at her useless feet, and shrunken hands, and deep hollow eyes,
I seemed to hear a voice from far Judean hills : ' hecvr yt one
anothe/i'8 bwderu;* and Uncle Orme — I am willing to bear
Maud's burden to the end of my life. My shoulden> have
become accustomed to the load they have carried for oyer seven-
teen years, and I will not shift it to poor Maud's. I am
strong, she is pitiably feeble. I have never known the blessing
of a father's love, have learned to do without it ; she has nd
other comfort, no other balm, and I will not rob her of the
little, God has lefb her. I understand ho^v KiOther feels, I
cannot blame her ; and while I know that her care and anxiety
in this matter are chiefly on my account, I could never res-
pect, never forgive myself, if to promote my own importance
or interest 1 selfishly consented to beggar poor Maud. She
cannot live long; death has set a shadowy mark already
upon her weird eyes, and until they close in the peacs of the
grave, let us leave her the name she seems so proud of. She
pronounced it — Maud Ames Laurance, — as though it were a
royal title. Let her bear it. I can wait."

448

INFELICE.

As Mr. Chesley watched the pale gem-like face, with its soft
holy eyes full of a resolution which he knew all the world could
not shake, a sudden mist blurred her image, and taking her
hand, he kissed her forehead.

'' My noble child, if the golden rule you seek to practise,
were in universal acceptation and actualization, injustice, fraud,
and crime would overturn the bulwarks of montlity and de-
cency. When men violate the laws of G »d and man as Cuth-
bert Laurance certainly has done, even religion as well »S
justice requires that his crime should be punished; although in
nearly all such instances, the innocent suffer for the sins of the
guilty. Tour mother owes it to you, to me, to herself, to soci-
ety, to demand recognition of her legal rights ; and though I do
not approve of all that she proposes (at least the manner of its
accomplishment), I cannot censure her ; and you, dear child,
for whose sake she has borne so much, should pause, before you
judge her harshly."

" God forbid that I should ! But oh uncle ! it ^ems to mo
something dreadful, sacrilegious to act over before a multitude
of strangers those mournful miserable events, that ought to
be kept sacred. The thought of being present, is very painful
to me."

" None but Gen. Laurance and his son will dream that it is
more than a mere romance. None but they can possibly rec-
ognize the scenes, and the audience cannot suspect that Minnie
is acting her own history. When a suit is instituted, it will
probably result in a recognition of the marriage, and thereupon
a large alimony will be granted to your mother, who will at
once apply for a divorce. In the present condition of their
financial affairs this cannot fail to beggar the Laurances, for I
had a cable dispatch this morning from Mr. Palma, intimating
that the stock panic had grievously crippled several of Gen.
Laurance's best investments. This news will be delightful to
Minnie, but I see it distr>?sses you. Now Regina — regnant,
listen to me. Have no controversy with your mother ; she is
just now in no mood to beai* it, and I want no distmst to grow
up between you. • Whether you wish it or not, sha will establish
her claim, and she is right in doing so. Now I wish to make
ti contract with you. Keep quiet, and if we find that the
Lanrancei! will really be reduced to want, T will 8ui)i>ly you
with the funds necessary to provide a comfortable home *'»i*
them, and you shall give it to your iathm* and little Maud.

1 1

INFBLICS,

449

Minnie must not know of the matter, she would never forgive
us, and neither can I consent that your father should consider
me as his friend. But all that I have, my sweet girl, is yours,
and Laurance may feel indebted to his own repudiated child
for the gift. Is it a bargain?"

"Oh Uncle Orme! how good and generous you arel No
wonder my heart warmed to you the €rst time I evea||, saw you !
How Hove and thank youl my own noble uncleL' You have
no idea how earnestly I long for the time, when yoflrand mother
and I can settle down together in a quiet home somewhere ;
shut out from the world that has used us all so hardly, — and
safe in our love, and confidence for, and in each other."

She had thrown her arms around his neck, and pressing her
head against his shoulder, looked at him with eyes full of hope
and happiness.

" 1 am afraid, my dear girl, that as soon as our imaginary
Eden is arranged satisfactorily, the dove that gives it peace and
purity will be enticed away, — caged in a more brilliant mansion.
You will love Minnie and me very much, I daresay, until some
lover steals between us, and lures you away."

She hid her countenance against his shoulder, and her words
impressed him as singularly solemn and mournful.

" I shall have no lover. I shall make it the aim and study
of all my future life, to love only God, mother and you. My
hope of happiness centres in the one word Home ! We all
three have felt the bitter want of one, and I desire to make
ours that serene, holy, ideal Home, of which I have so long
di*eamed : 'We will bear our Penates with us; their atrium —
the heart. Our household gods are the memories of our child-
hood, the recollection of the hearth round which we gathered ;
of the fostering hands which caressed us, of the scene of all the
joys, anxieties, and hope, the ineffable yearnings of love
which made us first acquainted with the mystery and the sanctity
of Home.' Such a home, dear uncle let us fashion, somewhere
in sight of the blue Pacific ; and into its sacred fest no lover
shall cotte»"

rmmm

iOO

INFBLIOS.

GHAFTEB XXXTH.

^BS. OBME had carefully instructed Mrs. Ward con-

frning the details of her daughter's toilettef and
lected certain articles which she desired her to
•ymkff but Begina saw her mother no more that day,
and late in tibie afternoon, when she knocked at the
door, soliciting admission, for a moment only, the mother ans-
wered ffom within :

*' No, my child would only unnerve me now, and there is too
much at stake. Uncle Orme understands all that I wish done
to-night."

Begina heard the quick restless tread across the floor, be-
traying the extreme agitation that prevailed in her mind and
heart; and sorrowfully the girl went back to her uncle, in
whose society she daily found increasing balm and comfort.

The theatre was crowded when Mr. Chesley and Begina en-
tered their box; and though the latter had several times
attended the opera in New Tork, the elegance and brilliance of
the surrounding scene surpassed all that she had hitherto wit-
nessed. Mrs. Orme had created a profound impression by her
earlier rdles at this theatre, and the sudden termination of her
engagement by the illness that succeeded her extraordinarily
pathetic and touching " Katharine," had aroused much sympa-
thy, stimulated curiosity and interest ; consequently her
re-appearance in a new play, of whose plot no hint had yet been
made public, suf&ced to fill the house at an early hour.

Soon after their entrance, Mr. Ohesliey laid his hand on his
companion's and whispered :

" Will you promise to be very calm, and self-controlled, if I
show you your father 1 "

He felt her hand grow cold, fqid in reply, she merely pressed
his fingers.

" \nien I hold the curtain slightly aside, look into tlie sec-
ond box immediately opposite, where two gentlemen are sitting.
They are your father and grandfather."

She leaned and looked, and how eagerly, how yearningly her
eyes dwelt upon the handsome face, which still closely resem-
bled the Cuthbert of College days, and the ambrotype she hltd
studied 80 carefully since her arrival in P»r)s.

INFBLIOE,

451

As she watched, her breathing became rapid, laboured, hf r
•yes filled, hnr face quivered uncontrollably, and she half rose
from her seat, but Mr. Ohesley held her back, and dropped the
curtain.

" Oh uncle ! How handsome, how refined, how noble-
looking ! Poor darling mother! how could she help giving him
her heart % In all my dreams and fancies, J never even hoped
to find him such a man ! My father, my father !"

She trembled so violently, that Mr. Chesley said hastUy :

" Compose yourself, or I shall be forced to utke you home,
and your mother will be displeased; for she particularly desired
that I would watch the efiiect of the play on those two men op-
posite."

She leaned back, shut her eyes, and bravefy endeavoured to
conquer her agitation, and luckily at this moment, the stage
curtain rose.

By the aid of photorraphs procured in America, and by dint
of personal supervision and suggestions, Mrs. Orme had suc-
cessfully arranged the exact reproduction of certaia locali-
ties ; the college, the campus, the humble cottage of old Mrs.
Chesley with itis peculiar porch, whose column caps were carved
to represent dogs' heads, the interior of a hospital, of an
orphan asylum, and of the library at the Parsonage.

Leaning far back, in his chair, a prey to gloomy and inde-
scribably bitter reflections, as he accustomed himself to the
contemplation of the fact that the beautiful woman in whom
his own fickle wayward heai-t had become earnestly inter-
ested, would sell herself to the gray-bearded man beside him,
Cuthbert gnawed his silky moustache ; while his father watched
with feverish impatience for the opening of the play, and the
sight of his enchantress.

The curtain rose upon a group sitting upon a sward, before
the cottage door. Minnie Merle in the costume of a very young
girl, with lAer golden hair all hidden under a thick wig of dark
curling loclis, that straggled in childish disorder around her neck
and shoulders, while her sun-bonnet, the veritable green and
white gingham of other days, lay at her feet. Beside her a tall
youth — who represented Peleg Peterson, in the garb of a car-
penter, with a tool-box on the ground, and in his hands a
wooden doll, which he was carving for the child.

In the door of the cottage sat the grandmother knitting and
nodding, with white hair shining under her snowy cap border ;

452

INFELICE.

and while the carpenter carved and whistled an old-fanhioned
ditty, " Meet me by moonlight alone," the girl in a quavering
voice attempted to accompany him.

Mininie sat with her countenance turned fully to the audience,
and when Guthbert Laurance's eyes fell on the cottage front, —
and upon the face under that cloud of dark elfish locks, — he
caught his breath, and his eyes seemed almost starting from
their sockets. His hand fell heavily on his father's knee, and
he groaned audibly.

Gen. Laurance turned and whispered : '

" For God's sake — ^what is the matter ? Are you ill 1"
There was no answer from the son, who tightened his clutch
upon the old man's knee, and watched breathlessly what was
passing on the stage.

The scene' wa^. shifted, and now the whole facade of the
college rose before him, with a pretty picture in the foreground j;
a tall handsome student, leaning against the trunk of an ancient
elm, and talking to the girl who sat on the turf, with a basket
of freshly ironed shirts resting on the grass beside her. The
identical straw hat, which Guthbert had left behind him when
summoned home, was upon the student's head, and as the timid
shrinking girl glanced up shyly at her companion, Guthbert
Laurance almost hissed in his father's ear :
" Great God ! It is Minnie herself ! "

General Laurance loosened the curtain next the audience,
and as the folds swept down, concealing somewhat the fig'Tre of
his son, he whispered :

" What do you mean? Are you drunk or madi"
Guthbert grasped his father's hand, and murmured :
** Don't you know the college 1 That is Minnie yonder !"
" Minnie 1 My son what ails you 1 Go home, you are
ill."

" I tell you that is Minnie Merle, so surely as there is a God
above us. Mrs. Orme — is Minnie — my Minnie ! My wife !
She has dramatized her own life !"

" Impossible, Guthbert I You are delirious, insa^ie. You

are'

" That woman yonder is my wife ! Now I understand why
such strange sweet memories thrilled me when I saw her first
in 'Amy Robsart*' The golden hair disguised her. Oh
father!"

The blank dismay in General Laurance's countenance was

INFBLIOB,

453

ed
ing

he
*oin

EUld

itch
was

the
ndi
lent
iket
The
hen
mid
bert

noe,
•e of

are

Ood
ife!

STou

first
Oh

was

suooeeded by an expression of dread, and as he looked from
bis son's blanched convulsed face, to that of the actress under
the arching elms of the campus, the horrible truth flashed upon
him, like a lurid glimpse of Hades. He struck his hand against
his forehead and his grizzled head sank on his bosom. All
that had formerly perplexed him was hideously apparent, start-
lingly clear ; and he saw the abyss to which she had lured him,
and understood the motives that had prompted her.

Afber some moments, he pushed his seat back beyond the
range of observation from the audience, and beckoned his son
to follow his example, but Outhbert stood leaning upon the back
of his chair, with eyes riveted on the play.

The courtship, the clandestine meetings, the interview in
which Peleg intruded upon the lovers, the revelation to the
grandmother, were accurately delineated, and in each scene the
girl grew taller, by some arrangement of the skirts, which were
at first very short, while she appeared in a sitting posture.

When the secret marriage was decided upon, and the party
left the cottage by night, Outhbert turned, rested one hand on
his father's shoulder, and as the scene changed to the quiet
Parsonage, he pressed heavily, aud muttered :

" Even the very dress that she wore that day ! And — there
is the black agate ! On her hand where I put it ! Don't you
know it 1 How she turns it !"

In the tableau of the marriage ceremony, she had taken her
position with reference to the locality of the box, and as near
it as possible, and in the glare of the footlights, the ring was
clearly revealed.

Lifting his lorgnette Gen. Laurance inspected the white hand
he had once kissed so rapturously, and by the ai^L of the lenses,
he recognized the costly ring, the valued heirloom for the
recovery of which he had offered five hundred dollars. Had he
still cherished a shadowy hope that Guthbert was suffering
from some fearful delusion, the sight of that singular and fatal
ring utterly overthrew the last lingering vestige of doubt.
Stunned, miserable, dimly foreboding some overwhelming de-
Tumetnent, he sat in stony stillness, knowing that this was but
the prelude to some dire catastrophe.

When the telegram arrived and the young husband took his
bride in his arms, the girlish face was lifted, and the passionate
gleam of the dilating brown eyes sent a strange thrill to the
hearts of both father and son. Vowing to return very soon and

454

INFXLIOS.

1^'

claim her, the husband tore himself away, and as he yauM*hed
through a side door near the box, Minnie followed, stretched
out her arms, and looking up fall at its two tenants, she
breathed her wild passionate prayer which rang with indesurib*
able pathos throughout that vast building :

" My husband ! My husband — do not forsake me 1 "

Cuthbert put his hand over his eyes, and but for the voices
on the stage, his shuddering groan would have been heard out-
side the box. In the scene where Peleg's advances were indig-
nantly repulsed, and his threats to unleash the bloodhoundis
of slander, hunting her to infamy, were fully developed, Cuth-
bert seemed to rouse himself hoai his stupor, and a different
express on crossed his features.

Skilfully the part played by G«n. Laurance in bribing Peleg,
and returning the letters of the wretched wife, the disgraceful
throats, the offer to buy up and cancel her conjugal claii|U|
were aU presented. \

When the grandmother departed, and the child-wife secretly
made her way to New York, seeking service that would secure
her bread and still hopeful of her husband's return, Cuthbert
grasped his father's arm and hissed in his ear:

" You deceived me ! You told me she went with that villain
to California, to hide her disgrace ! "

Cowed and powerless, the old man sat, recognizing the faith-
ful portraiture of his own dark schemes in those early days of
the trouble, and growing numb with a vague prophetic dread
that the foundations of the world were crumbling away.

His son suddenly drew his chair a little forward and sat
down, his elbow on his knee, his head on his hand; his ga^
fixed on the woman, who had contrived to reproduce even the
fall, that caused her removal to the hospital.

The ensuing scene represented the young mother, sitting on
a cot in the hospital, with a babe lying across her knee, and
the storm of horror, hate, and defiance with which she spumed
Peleg from her, calling on heaven to defend her and her baby,
and denouncing the treachery of Gren. Laurance who had
bribed Peterson to insult and defame her. \

As he was dragged from the department, vowing that neither
she nor her child should be permitted to ei^joy the name to
which they were entitled, the feeble woman, shorn of her broMm
locks, and wearing a close cap, lifted her infant and with stream-
ing eyes implored heaven to defend it and its hapless mother
from cruel persecution.

nurxuox.

48S

In the wonderful power with which she proclaimed her death-
less loyalty to the husband of her love, and her conviction that
God would interpose to shield his helpless child, the audience
recognized the fervor and pathos of the rendition, and the ap-
plause that greeted her, as she bowed sobbing over her baby, —
told how the hearts of her hearers thriUed.

The curtain fell, and Outhbert's eyes, gleaming like steel,
turned to his father's countenance.

" Is that true 1 Dare you deny it T

The old man only stared blankly at the carpet on the floor,
and his son's fingers closed like a vice around ^is arm.

" You have practised an infernal imposture upon me ! You
told me she followed him, and that the child was his."

" He said so."

Qen. Laurance's voice was husky, and a gray hue had set-
tled upon his features.

" You paid him to proclaim that base — falsehood ! You
whom I trusted so fully. Father — where is my child 1"

No answer ; and the curtain rose on the fair young mother,
who came forward with her own golden hair in full splendour.

Involuntarily the audience testified their recognition of the
beautiful actress who now appeared for the first time, looking as
•vhen she made her d&imty long ago in Paris. She was at the
asylum, with a young child clinging to her finger, tottering at
her side, and as she guided its steps, and hushed it in her arms,
many mothers among the spectators felt the tears rush to their
eyes.

Walking with the infant cradled on her bosom, she passed
twice across the stage, then paused beneath the box, and mur-
mured:

" Papa's baby — Papa's own precious baby !" and her splen-
did eyes humid with tears looked — ^full, straight — into those of
her husband.

It was the first time they had met during the evening, and
something she saw in that quivering face — made her heart ache
with the old numbing agony. Cuthbert could scarcely restrain
himself from leaping down upon the stage, and clasping her in
his arms ; but she moved away, and the sorely smitten hus-
band bowed his face in his hand, luckily shielded from public
view by the position in which he sat.

The dinner scene ensued, and the abrupt announcement of
the second marriage. The anguish and despair of the repudiated

*M**

" 1-

456

INFELICE.

wife were portrayed with a vividness, a marvellous eloquenoe,
and passionate fervour which surpassed all former exhibitions
of her genius, and the people rose, and applauded, as audiences
sometimes do, when a magnetic wave rolls from the heart and
brain on the stage to those of the men and women who watch
and listen, — completely en rapport.

The life of the actress began, the struggle to provide iov h.er
child, the constant care to elude discovery, the application
for legal advice, the statement of her helplessness, the attempt
to secure the license ; all were represented, and at last the meet-
ing with her husband in a theatre.

Gradually the pathos melted away, she was the stem relent-
less outraged wife, intent only upon revenge. She spared not
even the interview in which the faithless husband sought her
presence ; and as Cuthbert watched her, repeating the sentences
that had so galled his pride, he asked himself how he had failed,
to recognize his own wife ?

In the meeting with the child of the second marriage, her
wild exultation, her impassioned invocation of Nemesis, was
one of the most effective passages in the drama ; and it caused
a shiver like a serpent to creep over the body of the father, who
pitied so tenderly his afflicted Maud.

As the scheme of saving her own daughter, by sacrificing
herself in a nominal marriage with the man whom she hated
and loathed so intensely, developed itself, a perceptible chill fell
upon the audience ; the unnaturalness of the crime asserted it-
self.

While she rendered almost literally, the interviews at Puz-
zuoli, and at Naples, Cuthbert glanced at his father, and saw a
purplish flush steal from neck to forehead, but the old man's
eyes never quitted the floor. He seemed incapable of moving,
gorgonized by the beautiful Medusa whose invectives against
him were scathing, terrible.

As the play approached its close, and the preparation for the
marriage, even the details of the settlement were narrated,
suspense reached its acme. Then came the letters of reprieve,
the deliverance from the bondage of Peterson's vi;adicti>e
malice, the power of establishing her claim; and when she
wept her thanksgiving for salvation, many wept in sympathy ;
while Regina, borne away in breathless admiration, of her
mother's wonderful genius, sobbed unrestrainedly.

When the letters of Peterson, and of the lawyer were read,

INFSLIOB.

467

-l

mapping the line of proeecution for the recovery of the wife's
rights, tiie father slowly raised his eyes, and looking drearily
at his son, muttered :

" It is all over with us, Cuthbert. She has won, we are
ruined. Let us go home."

He attempted to rise, but with a glare of mingled wrath and
scorn, his son held him back.

The last scene was reached ; the triumphant vindication of
wife and child, ^e condemnation of the two who had conspired
to defraud them, the foreclosure of the mortgages, the penury of
the proud aristocrats, and the disgrace that overwhelmed them.

finally the second wife and addicted child came io crave
leniency, and the husband and the father pleaded for pardon ;
but with a malediction upon the house that caused her wretched-
ness, the broken-hearted woman retreated to the palatial home
she had at last secured, and under its upas shadow died in the
arms of her daughter.

Her play contained many passages which afforded her scope
for the maiiifestation of her extraordinary power, and at its close
the people would not depart until she had appeared in acknowl-
edgement of their plaudits.

Brilliantly beautiful she looked, with the glittering light of
triumph in her large mesmeric eyes, a rich glow mantling her
cheeks, androugeing her lips; while in heavy folds the black
velvet robe swept around her queenly figure. How stately,
elegant, unapproachable she seemed, to the man who leaned
forward, gazing with all his heart in his eyes, upon the wife of
his youth, the only woman he had ever really loved ; now his
most implacable foe.

The audience dispersed, and Cuthbert and his father sat like
those old Roman Senators, awaiting the breaking of the wave of
savage vengeance that was rolling in upon them.

At length Cren. Laurance struggled to his feet, and mechani-
cally quitted the theatre, followed by his son. Beaching the
carriage, they entered, and Cuthbert ordered the coachman to
drive to Mrs. Orme's hotel.

" Not now ! For God's sake — not to-night," groaned the old
man."

'^ To-night, before another hour, this awful imposture
must be confessed, and reparation offered. I sinned against
Minnie, but not premeditatedly. You deceiyed me. You
made me believe her the foul guilty thing you wisaed her.

468

INFELICB.

You intercepted her letters, you never let me know that I had
a child neglected and forsaken — and father, Ood may forgive
you, but I never can. My proud, lovely Minnie 1 My own
wife!"

Outhbert buried his face in his hands, and his strong frame
shook as he pictured what might have been, contrasting it with
the hideous reality of his loveless and miserable marriage, with
the banker's daughter who threatened him with social disgrace.

During that drive Qen. Laurance felt that he was approach-
ing some offended and avenging Fury, that'he was arifting
down to ruin, powerless to lift his hand and stay even for an
instant the fatal descent ; that he was gradually petrifying,
and things seemed vague and intansHble.

When they reached the hotel, they were ushered iiito the
salon, already brilliantly lightf^d as if in expectation of their
arrival. Outhbert paced the floor ; his father sank into a chair, ^
resting his hands on the top of his cane.

After a little while, a silk curtain at the lower end of the room
was lifted, and Mrs. Orme came slowly forward. How her lus-
trous eyes gleamed as she stood in the centre of the apartment,
scorn, triumph, hate, all btruggling for mastery in her lovely
face.

" Gentlemen, you have read the handwriting on the wull.
Do you come for defiance, or capitulation ? "

Qen. Laurance lifted his head, but instantly dropped it on his
bosom ; he seemed to have aged suddenly, prematurely. Outh-
bert advanced, stood close beside the woman whose gaze inten-
sified as he drew near her, and said brokenly :

" Minnie I come merely to exonerate myself before Grod and
man. Heaven is my witness that 1 never knew I had a child
in America, until to-night, that until to-night I believed you
were in California living as the wife of that base villain Peter-
son, who wrote, announcing himself your accepted lover. From
the day I kissed you good-by — at the cottage, I never received
a line, a word, a message from you. When I doubted my
father's and Peterson's statements concerning you, and wrote
two letters, one to the President of the college, one to aa'esident
professor, seeking some information of your whereabouts, in
order at least to visit you once more, when I became twenty-
one, both ai Hwered me that yoit had forfeited your fair name,
had been forsaken by your grandmother, ana had ^fone away
from the village accompanied by Peterson, who was regarded

"T^^

INFBLWE.

45f

as your favoured lover. I ceased to doubt, I believed you false.
I knew no better until to-night. Father, my honour demands
that the truth be spoken at last. Will you corroborate my
statement 1"

Pale and proud, he stood erect, and she saw that a conscious-
ness of rectitude at least in purpoue, sustained him.

" Mrs. Orme" began Gen. Laurance.

'^ Away with such shams and masks! Mrs. Orme died on
tiie theatrical boards to-night, and henceforth the world knows
me as Minnie Laurance ! Ah ! by the grace of G d ! Minnie
Laurance !"

She laughed derisively, and held up her fair slender band,
exhibiting the black agate with its grinning skull lighted by
the glow of the large radiant diamonds.

* " Minnie I never dreamed you were his wife, — oh my God !
how horrible it all is !"

He seemed bewildered, and his son exclaimed :

" Who is responsible for the separation from my wifel You
father, or I V

'' I did it, my son. I meant it for the best. I naturally be-
lieved you had been entrapped into a shameful alliance, and
as any other father would have done, I was ready to credit the
unfavourable estimate derived from the man Peterson. He
told me that Minnie had belonged to him until she and her
grandmotl jr conceived the scheme of inveigling you into a
secret marriage ; and afterward he informed me of the birth of
his child. I did not pay him to claim it, but when he pro-
nounced it his, I gave him money to pay the expenses of the
two whom he claimed, to California ; and I supposed until to-
night, that both had accompanied him. I did not manufacture
statements, I only gladly credited them ; and believing all that
man told me, I felt Justified in intercepting letters addressed to
you, by the woman whom he claimed as mother of \m child.
Madam, do not blame Cuthbert. I did it all."

The abject wretchedness of his mien disconcerted her ; robbed
her of half her anticipated triumph. How could she exult in
trampling upon a bruised worm which made no attempt to
crawl from beneath her heel 1 He sat, the image of hopeless
dejection, his hands crossed on the gold head of his cane.

Mrs. Orme walked to the end of the room, lifted the curtain,
and at a signal Regina joined her. Clasping the girl's fingers
firmly she led her forward, and when in front of the old man,
she exclaimed :

ssr^aassEs^sss

■a^tfy^iimih II '•<

ai;{ ' ZjM.a

T,";

II [MtMi itautmmmmmtiiti

410

tNFELIOa,

" Ren^ Lauranoe — blood triumphs over malice, perjury and
bribery ; whose is this child 1 Is she Merle, Peterson or Lau-
raiice 1"

Standing before them, in a dress of some soft snowy shining
fabric, neither silk nor crape, with white starry jasmines in
her raven hair, and upon her bosoui, Regina seemed some ange-
lic visitant — sent to still the strife of human passions, so lovely
and pure was her colourless face ; and as Gen. Lauranee looked
up at her, he rose suddenly.

" Pauline Lauranee, my sister ; the exact, the wonderf«]
image ! Lauranee, all Lauranee ; from head to foot."

He dropped back into the chair, and smiled vacantly.

Cuthbert sprang forward, his face all aglow, kis eyes radiMit
and eloquent.

" Minnie is this indeed our chUd 9 Your daughter — and
miner'

He extended his arms, but she waved him back.

" Do not touch her ! How dare you 1 This is my baby, my
darling, my treasure. This is the helpless little one, whose
wails echoed in a hospital ward ; who came into the world
cursed with the likeness of her father. This is the child you
disowned, persecuted, this is the baby God gave to you an^ to
me ; but you forfeited your claim long years ago, and sh« has
no father, only his name henceforth. She is wholly, entirely
her mother's blue-eyed baby. You have your Maud."

As she spoke, a wealth of proud tenderness shone in her eyes,
which rested on the lily face of her child, and at that moment
how she gloried in her perfect loveliness i

Her husband groaned, and clasped his hand over his face to
conceal the agony that was intolerable, and in an instant, ere
.the mother could suspect or frustrate her design, the girl broke
from her hand, sprang forward and threw herself on Cuthbert's
bosom, clasping her arms around his neck, and sobbing :

" My father 1 Take me just once to your heart ! Call me
daughter ; let me once in my life hear the blessed words from
my own father's lips !"

He strained her to his bosom, and kissed the pure face, while
tears trickled over his cheeks, and dripped down on hers. Her
mother mavle a step forward to snatch her back, but at sight of
his tears, oi the close embrace in which he held her, the wife
turned awaj. unable to look upon the spectacle and preserve
her composuie.

Vti*

•■■*

: •

!»«

.iS'^

INFSLIOB.

461

A heavy fall startled all present, and a glance showed them
Oen. Lauranoe lying insensible on the carpet.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

|N the clear cold analytical light which the '* Juveniua
JSfundi" pours upon th« nebulouR realm of Hellenic lore,
and Heroic legend, we learn that Homer knew " no
Destiny fighting with the gods or unless in the shape of
death, defying them," and that the " Nemesis, often in-
accurately rendered as revenge, was after all, but self judgment,
or sense of moral law." Even in the dim Homeric dawn, Con-
science found personification.

Aroused suddenly to a reali2ation of tlie wrongs and wretch-
edness to which his inordinate pride and ambition had chiefly
contributed, the Nemesis of self-judgment had opened its grim
assi.*^"! in Qen. Laurance's soul, and he cowered before the phan-
toms that stood forth to testify.

No father of ordinary prudence and affection could have
failed to oppose the reckless folly of his son's ill-starred marriage,
or hesitated to save him, if compatible with God's law and
human statutes, from the misery and humiliation it threatened
to entail. But when he made a foot-ball of marriage vows, and
became auxiliary to a second nuptial ceremony, striving by legal
quibbles to cancel what only Death annuls, the hounds of Retri-
bution leaped from their leash.

The deepest, strongest love of his life had bloomed in the
sunset light ; wearing the mellow glory of the after-math ; and
his heart clung to the beautiful dream of his old age, with a
fierce tenacity that destroyed it, when i-udely torn away by the
awful revelations of " Infelice." To lose at once uOt only his
lovely idol, but that darling fetich — Laurance prestige ; to be-
hold the total eclipse of his proud reputation and family name,
to witness the ploughshare of social degradation, and financial
ruin driven by avenging hands over all he held dearest, was a
doom which the vanquished old man could not survive.

Perhaps the vital forces hud already begun to yield to the
disetise that so suddenly prostrated him at Naples, dashing the
cup of joy from hiB thirsty lips; and perchance the grim Kata-

9BSM

462

INFELICE.

clothes had handed the worn tangled threads of existence to
their faithful minister Paralysis, even befoie the severe shock
that numbed him while sitting in the theatro loge.

When h;u eyes closed upon the spectacle of his son, folding
in his arms his firstborn, they shut out forever the things of
time and sense, and consciousness that forsook him then never
reoccupied its throne. He was c&rried from the brilliant salon
of the popular actress to the home of his son ; medical skill
exhausted its ingenuity, and though forty-eight hours elapsed
before the weary heart ceased its slow feeble pulsations, Gen.
Laurance's soul passed to its final assize without even a shadowy
farewell recognition of his son, for whom he had hoped, sufiered,
dared so much.

'• Some men's sins are open beforehand, going before to judg-
ment, and some men they ibllow after."

During the week that succeeded his temporary entombment
in the sacred repose of Phre La Chaise, Mrs. Orme completed
her brief engagement at the theatre where "she had so dearly
earned her freshest laurels ; and though her tragic career closed
in undimmed splendour, when she voluntarily abdicated the
throne she had justly won, bidding adieu forever to the scene
of former triumphs — she heard above the plaudits of the multi-
tude, the stern whisper — " Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,
I will repay."

The man whom she most intensely hated, land most ardently
longed to humiliate and abase in public estimation, had escaped
the punishment ; housed from reproach by the stony walls of
the tomb, mocking her efforts to requite the suffering he had
inflicted, and the keenest anticipations of her vindictive purpose
were foiled, vanquished.

One morning, ten days after the presentation of " Infelice,"
Mrs. Orme sat listening to her daughter, who observing her
restless dissatisfied manner, proposed to read aloud. Between
the two had fallen an utter silence with reference to the past,
and not an allusion had been made to Cuthbert Laurance since
the night he had firat held his daughter to his heart. Death
had dropped like a sacred seal ui)on its memorable incidents,
which all avoided ; but mother and child seemed hourly to cling
more closely to each other.

To-day sitting on a low ottoman, with her arm thrown across
her mother's knee, while the wliite hand wearing the black
agate wandered now and then over thexlrooping head, Kegina
read the ** Macloma Mia."

— j.^

I ;

INFELICB.

469

She had not concluded the perusal vrhen a card was brought
in, and a glance at her mother's countenance left ker no room
to doubt the name it bore.

'' After five minutes, show him in."

Mrs. Orme closed her eyes, and her lips trembled.

" My daughter, do you desire to be present at this last earthly
interview?"

" No, mother. My wrongs I freely forgive, I told him so,
but yours I can never forget ; and I would prefer in future not
t* meet him. €h)d pity and comfort .you both."

She kissed her motiier's cheek, lips, even her hands, and
hastily retreated. As she vanished, Mrs. Orme threw herself
on her knees, and her lips moved rapidly, while she wrung her
fingers ; but the petition was inaudible, known only to the
Searcher of hearts. Was it for strength to prosecute to the bit-
ter end, or for grace to forgive 1

Sho placed a strong metal box on the ormolu stand near her
chair, and had iust resumed her seat when Mr. Laurance entered,
and approached her. He was in deep mourning, and his in!
tensely pale but composed face bore the chastening lines of a
profound and hopeless sorrow ; but retained the proud unflinch-
ing regard peculiar to his family.

Of the two he was most calm and self-possessed. Bowing in
ttnswer to the inclination of her head, he drew a chair in front
of her, and when he sat down^ she saw a package of papeiB in
his hand.

" I am glad, Mrs. Laurance, that you grant me this oppor-
tunity of sajring a few words, which after to-day I shall seek
no occasion to repeat ; for with this interview ends all inter-
course between us, at least in this world. These papers I found
in poor father's private desk, and I have read them. They
are your notes, and the marriage contract, which only
awaited the signature, he intended to affix."

She held out her hand, and a burning blush dyed her cheek,
as she reflected on the loathsome purpose which had framed
that carefully worded instrument.

" To-day I leave Paris — ^for America, to front as best I may,
the changed aspect of life. I have mot yet told Abbie of the
cloud of sorrow and humiliation that will soon break over our
family circkr for poor little Maud has been quite ill, and T de-
ferred my bitter revelation until her mother's mind is composed
i^nd clear enough to gra,sp the mournful truth. In the suit

**«*''■■' ''^mmeaumrKOK

rr"

MmMU

466

JNFELICE.

— not to Abbie Ame&* husband, but to the phantom oif the
Outhbert, whom long ago I loved so well, to the vision of
the young bridegroom I worshipped so blindly. Let me go.
Our interview is ended."

She withdrew from his arms, and rose.

" Before I go, let me see our child once more. Let me tell
her that her father is inexpressibly proud of the daughter, who
will honour his unworthy name."

" She declines meeting you again."

'' Minnie, don't teach her to hate me !"

" I gave her the opportunity, and she made her own choice,
saying, she freely forgave the wrongs committed against her,
but her mother's — she could never forget. If I had asked of
Heaven the keenest punishment within the range of vengeance,
it seems to me none could exceed the wretchedness of the man,
who owning my darling for his child, is yet debarred from her
love, her reverence, her confidence, and the precious charm of
her continual presence. My sweet, tender, perfect daughter !
The one true heart in all the wide world that loves and clings
to me. You forsook and disowned me, repudiated your vows,
offered them elsewhere, making unto yourself strange new
gods, profaning the altar, where other images should have
stood. The banker's daughter, and the Laurance heiress she
bore you, are entitled to what remains of your fickle selfish
heart, and I trust that the two who supplanted my baby and
me, will suffice for your happiness in the future, as in the past.
Into roy own and my darling's life you can enter no more.
' Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he reap. Do men gather
grapes off thorns, or figs off thistles % * You deem me relent-
less and vindictive ? Think of all the gray, sunless, woeful ex-
istence I showed you behind the 6x>tlights — not many nights
since, and censure me if you can. There is no pious resignar
tion in my proud soul ; for indeed * There are ch^^feiscntpnts
that do not chasten ; there are trials that do not purify, and
sorrows that do not elevate ; there are pains and privations that
harden the tender heart, without softening the stubbdm will.*
Of such are the sombre warp and woof of my ill-starred life.
When you reach New York, Mr. Erie Palma, who is my coun-
sel, will acquaint you with the course he deems it best to
pursue."

She looked calm and stately as the Ludoviaian- Juno, and
quite as lovely, in her pale pride.

\\J

}iM

INFELICE.

467

" Minnie, do not part from me in anger. Oh my wife — let
me fold you in my arms once more ! — And once, just once, —
I pray you let me kiss you ! Are you not my own 1"

She recoiled a step, her brown eyes lightened, and her words
fell crisp as icicles :

" Since I was a bride, three weeks a wife, since you pressed
them last, no man's lips have touched mine. I hold them too
sacred to that dear buried past to be submitted oo a pressure
less holy, to be profaned by those of another woman's husband.
Only my daughter kisses my lips. Yours are soiled with per-
jury and belong to the wife and child of your choice. Go, pay
your vows, be true at last to something. Good-bye."

He came closer, but her pitiless, chill face repulsed him.
Seizing her beautiful hand, white and cold as marble, he lifted
it, but the flash of the diamonds smote his heart like a heavy
flail.

" The death's head that you gave me as a bridal token ! Is
there not a fatality even in symbols % Upon my wedding ring
stands the cinerary urn, that soon sepulchred my peace, my
hopes. A mockery so exquisite could not have been accidental,
and faithfully that grinning skeleton has walked with me. The
ghastly coat of arms of Laurance."

She had thrown off his clasp, raised her hand, and turned
the ring over till the jewels glowed, then it fell back nerveless
at her side.

" Minnie."

His voice was broken, but her lustrous eyes betrayed \^: hint
of pity.

" My wife has no pardon for her erring husband. I have
merited none, still I hoped for one kind farewell word from lipp
that are strangely dear to ihe. So be it. Tell my daaghter, if
her unhappy father dared to pray, he would invoke heaven's
choicest ^essings on her young innocent head. And Minnie,
love, let our baby's eyes and lips successfv.lly plead pardon for
her father's unintentional sins against the wife he never ceased
to love," .

He caught the hand once more, kissed the ring he had
placed there eighteen years before ; and, feeling his hot, trem-
bling lips upon her icy fingers, she shut her eyes. When she
opened them she was alone.

" We twain liave met like f'lips upon the sea,
Who hold an ho'H''« oonversp, so short, so sweet ;

jSMf

468

INFELICE.

One little hoar ! and then away they speed,

On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud and foam —

To meet no more t "

\ I

CHAPTER XXXV.

kROM the window of one of those beautiful villas that
encrust the shores of Como, nestling like white birds at
the base of the laurel and vine-clad hills that lave their
verdant feet in the blue watere, Kegina watched the
sunshine falling across the placid bosom of the lake.
Far away, on the sky-line opposite, and towering above the in-
tervening mountains, glittered the white fire of the snowy Alps,
as if they longed to quench their dazzling lustre in the peaceful
blue sleeping beneath.

Luxuriant vines clambered along the hillsides, and where the
latter had been cut in terraces, and seemed swinging like the
gardens of Semiramis, orange, lemon, myrtle and olive trees
showed all their tender green and soft gray tints, and long-
haired acacias waved in the evening air, that was redolent of
the faint delicious vesper incense swung from the pink chalices
of climbing roses.

" No tree cumbered with creepfts let the sunshine through,
But it was caught in scarlet cups, and poured
From these on amber tufts of bloom, and dropped
Lower on azure stars."

Never weary of studying the wonderful beauty of the sur-
rounding scenery, Kegina surrendered herself to an enjoyment
that would have been unalloyed, had not a lurking shadow cast
its unwelcome chill on all. Mr. and Mrs. Waul had returned
to America, and for a month Mrs. Laurance, accompanied by
Mr. Chesley and Regina, had been quietly ensconced in this
lovely villa, whose terraces and balconies projected almost into
the water, and commanded some of the finest views of the lake.

But anxiety had followed, taking up its dreary watch in the
midst of that witchery which might have exorcised the haunt-
ing gray ghost of care ; and though shrouded by every imagin-
able vail and garland of beauty, its grim presence was as fully
felt as that of the byssus-clad mummy that played its allotted
part at ancient Coptic fensts.

INFBLIOB.

469

lat
at
3ir
he
:e.
n-

)S,

be
be
es

g-
of

The steamer in which Mr. Laurance embarked with his fam-
ily for America, had been lost in mid- Atlantic ; and oxily one
boat, filled with a portion of the passengers and crew, had been
rescued by a West Indian ship bound for Liverpool. Among
the published names of the few survivors that of Laurance did
not appear.

Had old ocean mercifully opened its crystal bosom and gath-
ered to coral caves and shrouding purple algse the unfortunate
man, who had quaffed all the rosy foam beading the goblet oi
life, and for whom it only remained to drain the bitter lees of
public humiliation and social disgrace ?

When Mrs. Laurance received the first intimation that Cuth-
bert had probably perished, with his wife and child, she vehe-
mently and stubbornly refused her credence. It seemed impop •
sible that envious death could have so utterly snatched from
her grasp the triumph, upon which her eager fingers were already
closing.

Causing advertisemants to be inserted in various journals,
and offering therein a reward for information of the missing
passengers, she forbade the topic broached in her presence, and
quitting Paris, retired for a season to Lake Como ; vainly seek-
ing that coveted tranquillity which everywhere her own har-
rowing thoughts and ceaseless forebodings effectuallv murdered.

As itime wore on she grew gloomy, taciturn, almost
morose, and a restlessness beyond the remedy of medicine,
robbed her of the power of sleep. To-day she clung convulsive-
ly to her daughter, unwilling that she should leave her even
for an instant ; to-morrow she would lock nerself in, and for
hours refuse admitta,; e to any human being. The rich bloom
forsook her cheek, deep shadows underlined her large melan-
choly eyes and her dimpled hands became so diaphanous, ao thin,
that the black agate ring with diificulty held its place upon the
wasted fingers.

With patient loving care, Regina anticipated her wishes, in-
dulged all her varying caprices, devoted herself assiduously to
the task of diverting her mind and comforting her heart by the
tender ministrations of her own intense filial affection. By day,
she read, talked, sang to her. When in the tormentingly stUl
hours of the night, her mother refused the thorns of a sleepless
pillow, the daughter drew her out upon the terrace, against
which the wxvelets broke in a silvery monologue, and directed
her thoughts to the glowing stars that clustered in the blue

470

INFEUCBL

dome above, and shimmered in the azure beneath ; or with iixx
arm around the mother's waist, led her into the flowery garden,
and up the winding walks that climbed the eminence behind
the villa, where oleanders whitened the gloom, and passionate
jasmines broke their rich hearts upon the dewy air ; so, pacing
to and fro, until the moon went down behind the myrtle groves,
— ^and the bald brow of distant Alps flushed under the firat kiss
of day.

For Mrs. Laurance, nepenthe was indeed a fable, and while
she abstained from even an indirect allusion to the subject that
absorbed her, the nameless anxiety that seemed consuming her,
Regina and her uncle watched her with increasing apprehen-
sion.

This afternoons! had complained of headache, and throwing
herself on a cou( h i che recess of the window that overlooked
the lake, derir >1 to be left alone, in the hope of falling asleep.

Stooping to kj b hri/, Begina said :

" Mother let ni • '^ by you, and while I fan you gently, read
the ' Lotos Eaterfi.' 'fxnd drowsy rhythm will lull you into that
realm of rest :

' In which it seems always afterxooK. '

May I?"

*' No. To-day your blue eyes would stab my sleep. I will
ring when I want you.

Tropping the fllmy lace curtains, in order to lessen the reflec-
tion from the water, Eegina softly stole away, and sat down at
the window of the scdon, where satin-leaved arums, and dainty
pearly orchids embellished the consoles, and fragrant heliotrope
and geraniums were blooming in pots clustered upoa, the stone
>falcony outside.

Each day the favorite view of the lake and bending shore line,
upon which she gazed from this spo^ d •'elof r 1 some new
beauty, hidden hitherto under leafy laurel isuadows, or beiiind
the snowy saU of some fishing boat, rocking iilly upon the ajsure
waves.

Now the burden of her reflection was :

" If we could only spend our lives in this marble haven, away
from the turmoil and feverish confusion of the outside world ;
forgetting the past, contented with the society of each other,
and shut in with God and nature — how peaceful the futux'e
would be, nay, how happy ail might yot become % "

INFELICK

471

a,
id

[e
bt

.*>

Sympathy with her mother, had forced her to put temporarily
aside the contemplation of her own sorrow, but in secret it
preyed upon her heart ; and whenever a letter arrived, she
dreaded the announcement of Mr. Palma's marriage.

His parting allusion to a brief European visit she had by
the aid of her fears, interpreted to mean a bridal tour, curtailed
by his business engagements ; and though she never mentioned
his name when it could be avoided, she could not hear it
casually pronounced by her uncle or mother without feeling her
heart bound suddenly.

Once, soon after her arrival in Paris, her mother in reading
a letter from Mr. Palma, glanced at her and said :

" Your guardian desires me to say, that in your disguised
devotion to uncle Orme, he presumes that he is completely for-
gotten ; but consoles himself with the reflection that from time
immemorial wards have been like the Carthaginians, prover-
bially ungrateful."

Regina made no response, and since then, )'he had received
no message.

While she sat gazing over Oomo, a mirage rose glistening
between her eyes and the emerald shore beyond ; the dear
familiar outlines of that Fifth Avenue library, the frescoed
walls, polished floor, mellow gas lamps, and above all, the
stately form, massive head, high brow so like a slab of marble,
and bright black eyes of the dear master.

She was glad when Mr. Chesley came in, with an open book
in his hand and <itood near her.

" is your mother asleep 1 "

" I hope so. She sent me away, that she might get a nap."

" Just now I stumbled upon a passage which reminded Xii'^
so vividly of the imaginary home you last week painted for us,
somewhere along the Pacific shore, that I thought I would
show it to you. That home, where you hope to indulge your
bucolic tastes, your childish fondness for pets, doves, rabbits,
>hea8ants, and similar rustic appendages to our cottage — in —
lie — air. Here read it aloud if you will."

She glanced over the lines, smiled, and read :

..1^

1 ;.

*' *Mong the green lanes of Kent, stood an antique home
Within its oroliards, rich with ruddy fruits ;
For the full year was laughing in his prime.
Wealth of all flowei-s grew in that garden green,
And the old porch with its ijrcat oaken door

J*^23V .7i-»-.r,".^'3ifc'.a::£^^j^,^';-

' i HM II m

472 INFBLJOS. \ .

Was smothered in rose-blooms, while over the walli
The honeysuckle clunff delidoosly.
Before the door there lay a plot of grass
Snowed over with daisies, flower by all beloved,
And famousest in song, and in the midst,

A carved fonntain stood,

On which a peacock perched and suuned itself;

Beneath two petted rabbits, snowy white,

Squatted upon the sward. '

A row of poplars darkly rose behind.

Around whose tops, and the old-fashioned vanes.

White pigeons fluttered ; and over all was bent

The mighty sky, with sailing sunny clouds."

" Thank you, Uncle Orme. The picture is as sweet as its
honeysuckle blooms, and some day we will frame it with Cali-
fornia mountains, and call it Home. I shall only want to add,
a gently sloping field, wherein pearly Short-Horns stand ankle-
deep in clo\er, while my dear old dog Hero basks upon the
doorstep ; and upon the lawn. —

' An almond tree
Pink with her blossom and alive with bees.
Standing against the azure.' "

" Yonder come the letters."

As he spoke Mr. Chesley left the room, and soon after, a ser-
vant entered with a letter addressed to Begina.

It was from Olga, dated Baden Baden ; and the vein of sub-
dued yet hopeless melancholy that wandered through its con-
tents, now and then intertwined strangely with a thread of her
old grim humour.

" Do you ever hear from that legal sphinx — Erie Palma ?
Mamma only now and then receives epistles fashioned after
those once in vogue in Laconia. (I wonder if even the old
toothless gossips in Sparta were ever laconic 1) I am truly
sorry for £rle Palma. That beautifully crystallized quartz heart
of his, is no doubt being ground between the upper and nether
millstones of his love and his pride ; and Hymen ought to
charge him heavy mill-toll. My dear have you seen Elliott
Boscoe's little tinted-paper poem ? Of course his apostrophe to,
* violet eyes, over-laced with jet !' will sound quite Tennysonian
to a certain little shy girl, now hiding at Como, and who * in-
spired the strain.' But aside from the pleasant association that
links you with the verses, they are, pardon me, dear, as thin, as

INFELICE.

473

li-

e-
le

flavourless, as, well, as the soup dished out at pauper restaurants.
You are at liberty to consider me consumed by envy, green with
jealousy, when I here spitefully record, that Elliott's ambitious
poem reminds me of M. de Bonald's biting criticism on Mme. de
Kxiidener : ' I make bold to declare with the Bible in my hand,
that the poor we shall always have with us, were it only the
poor in intellect.' Coke and Story will befriend poor Elliott
much more effectually than the Muses, who have most in-
gloriously snubbed him. Are you really happy, little snow-
bird, nestling in the down of mother-love, which, like the veri-
table baby you are, you so pined for %

Eegina, I am going to tell you something. Bar the windux^' \
lock the doors, shut it up forever, close in your own heart, js
few nights ago, I went with an English friend to the Canversati-
cnahcma. When we had leaned awhile against one of the columns,
and watched the dancers in the magnificent saloon, he proposed
to show me the grand gambling room.

" As we walked slowly along, listening to the click of the gold,
that pattered down from trembling hands, I saw sitting at a
Soulette table, deeply immersed in the game (never tell it),
Belmont Eggleston. Not the same classic god-like face, that I
would once have followed straight to Hades ; not the man
upon whom I wasted all the love that God gives a woman to
glorify her life and home, but a flushed, bloated creature, as
unlike the Belmont of my hopes and dreams, as ' Hyperion to a
Satyr!' I watched him, till my veiy soul turned sick, and
all Pandemonium seemed to have joined in a jieer at my former
infatuation. Next day, I saw him reel from a saloon to the
steps of his wife's carriage. Years ago, when Erie Palma told
me that my darling drank and gambled, I denied it ; and in
return for the warning, emptied more wrath upon my informer,
than all the apocalyptic vials held. Ah ! for poor Belmont, I
fought as fiercely as a tawny tigress, when her youngest cub is
captured by the hunters. Ashes ! Bitter ashes of love and
trust! Truly 'there is no pardon for desecrated ideals.' I
have lived to learn that :

' Man trusts in God ;
He is eternal. Woman trusts in man,
And he is shifting sand. ' "

" Regina !'*

The girl looked up, and saw her uncle with an open letter

in his hand.

474

INFELWE.

" What is it? Some bad news I"

" Dear little girl, you are indeed fatherless now."

She bent her head upon the ledge of the window, and after
ft moment Mr. Chesley sighed, and smoothed her hair.

" With all his faults, he was still your father ; and having
had several interviews with him in Paris, I wns convinced he
was more ' sinned against than si ming,' though of course be
knew that he could never have legally married again, while
Minnie lived. God help us to forgive, oven as we need and
hope to be forg'ven."

" He knows I forgave him. I told him so, the night he held
me to his heart, and kissed me ; and you never can know how
that thought comforts me now. But, mother ! Uncle " —

She sprang up pale and tearful, but he detained her.

" Mr. Palma writes me that there remains no longer a doubt,
that Laurance perished in the wreck. He encloses a detailed
account of the disaster, from an American naval surgeon who
was returning home on furlough, when the storm overtook
them, and who was one of the few picked up by the "West In-
dian vessel. Mr. Palma wrote to him, relative to your father
and it appears from his reply in my hand, that he knew the
Laurances quite well. He says that during the gale he was
called to prescribe for Maud, who way really ill and rendered
worse by terror. When it yv\H evi..l".>nt the steamer ould not
outlive the storm, he saw Ouibbert Laurance place his wife in
one of the boats, and return to the cabin for his sick child.
^ stening back with the little cripple in his arms, he found the
'>>-a.' ~7ere beyond reach, and too crowded to admit another
D.ia. u/. -^r. He shouted to the nearest, to take his child, only
L * il ; but the violence of the gale rendered it impossible
to ao mere than keep the boat from swamping, and with many
others, he was left upon the doomed vessel. l?here was no- re-
maining boat ) night came swiftly on, the storm increased, and
next day there was no vestige of boat or ship visible. Mrs.
Laurance was in the second boat, the largest and strongest,
but it was overladen, and about twilight it capsized ''i the fury
of the gale, and all went down. The surgeon who heard, the
wild screams of the women, knows that the wife perished, and
says he cannot indulge the faintest hope that the father and
child escaped. Cuthbert was a remarkably iskilful' swimmer ;
^e had once contended for a wager off Brighton, with a party
of naval officers, and Laurance won it ; but none could live in

INFEUCE,

476

the sea i\\\\t boiled and bellowed around that sinking ship, and
encumbered as he was, with the helpless child, it was impossi-
ble that he could have survived. I would rather not tell Minnie
now, but Mr. Pa) ma writes that the sister and nephew of Gen.
Laurance will force a suit to secure the remnants of the prop-
erty, and he wishes to anticipate their action. Come with me,
dear. Minnie is not asleep. As I passed her door, I heard
her walk across the floor."

" Uncle Orme, can't you wait until to-morrow 1 T do not
know how this news will affect her, and I dr< Mtl it."

" My dear child, her suspense is destro\ her. After fill,
delay will do no good. Poor Minnie ! The- her bell. She
knows the hour our mail is due, and she wil & for letters." *

Opening the door both paused at the threshold, and neither
could ever forget the picture she presented.

In a snowy peignoir she sat on the side of the couch, with
her long waving hair falling in disorder to the marble floor, and
seemed indeed like Japhet's " Amai-ant :"

*' She in her locks is like the ti*avelling sun.
Setting, all clad in coifing clouds of gold,"

The wan Phidian face was turned toward them, and was
breathless in its anxious eagerly questioning expression. Her
brown eyes widened, searching theirs ; and reading all, in her
daughter's tearful pitying gaze, what a wild look crossed her
face.

B«gina pushed her uncle back, closed the door and sprang io
the coach, holding out the letters.

Sitting as still as stone, Mrs. Laurance did not appear to
notice them.

" Darling mother, God knows what is best for us all."

Slowly the strained eyes turned to the appealing face of her
kneeling child, and something there j^roke up the- frozen deeps
of her heart.

" Are you sure 1 Is there no hope 1"

** No hope ; except to meet him in heaven."

Throwing her hands above her head, the wretched woman
wrung them despairingly, and the pain of all the bitter past
wailed in her passionate cry :

"Lost — ^forever ! and I would not forgive him ! My hus-
band ! My own husband ! When he begged for pardon, I
spurned, and derided, and taunted him ! Oh ! I . meant some-

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time— to forgive him ; — after I had accomplished all I planned.
After he was beggared, and humiliated in the eyes of the world,
— and that woman occupied the position where thej all sought ,
to keep me, a mother and yet no lawful wife, after I had
enjoyed my triumph a little while, I fully intended to listen to
my heart long enough to tell him, that I forgave him — ^because
he was your father ! And now, where is my revenge % Where
is my triumph) Gkxl has turned his back upon me; has
struck from my hands all that I have toiled for fifteen years-—
to accomplish. They all triumph over me now, in their quiet
graves, resting in peace ; and I — live, only to regret ! To
regret ! "

Her eyes were dry, and shone like jewels, and when her
arms fell, her clenched hands rested unintentionally on her
daughter's head.

" Mother, he knows now that you forgive him. Kemember \
that for him all grief is ended ; and try to be comforted."

"Andfdrme? What remains for me T

Her voice was so deep, so sepulchral, so despairing, that
Begina clung closer to her.

" Your child who loves you so devotedly ; and the hope of
that blessed rest in heaven, where marriages are unknown,
where at last we shall all dwell together in peace."

For some time Mrs. Laurance remained motionless j then
her lips moved inaudibly. At length she said :

" Tes, my child, our child — is all that is left. When he
asked to kiss me once more, I denied him so harshly, so
bitterly ! When he tried to draw me for the last time to his
bosom, I hurled away his arms, would not let him touch me.
Now I shall never see him again. My husband ! The one only
love of my miserable and accursed life ! Oh my beloved ! do
you know at last, that the Minnie of your youth, the bride of
yotir boyhood has nevei^ never ceased to love her faithless,
erring husband 1"

Her voice grew tremulous, husky, and suddenly bending
back her daughter's head, she looked long at the grieved coun-
tenance.

** His last words were : ' Minnie, love, let our baby's eyes
and lips plead pai'don for her father's unintentional sins.' They
do ; tiiey always shall. Cuthbert's own wonderful eyes shin-
ing in his daughter's. My husband's own proud beautiful lips
— ^lihat kiss me so fondly ovory time I press his child's mouth 1

INFELIOB,

477

*k»

Atjast I can thank Qod that our baby is indeed her father's
image; and because in death Cuthbert is my own again, I
can cherish the memory, and pray for the soul of my husband I
Kiss me, kiss me — oh my darling ! "

She kissed the girl's eyes and lips, held her off, gazing into
her face through gathering mist, then drew her again to her
bosom, and the long hoarded bitterness and agony found vent
in a storm of sobs and tears.

"I must sit joyless in my place ; bereft,

As trees that suddenly have dropped tiieir leaveSy

And dark as nights that have no moon."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

L he

, 80

)ohis
me.

only
! do

deof

hless,

^NCLE OBME, are you awake t"

" My dear girl, what is the matter % Is Minnie ill)"
** No, sir ; but this is mother's birthday, and if you
please, .1 want you. There are a few late peaches bang-
le ing too high for my arms, and such grape-clusters 1 just
beyond my finger tips. Will you be so kind as to gather them
for me 1 I intended to ask you yesterday afternoon, but mother
kept me on the terrace until it was too late. I have not heard
you moving about. Do get up. The morning air is so deli-
cious, and the lake lies like a huge rose with crimped petals."

" Tou are a tormentingly early lark, chanting your hymns to
sunrise, when you should be sound asleep. You waked me in
the midst of a lovelier rose-coloured dream than your tiresome,
stupid lake, and I shall not excuse you for disturbing me.
Where is that worthless, black-eyed chattering monkey Gialiof
Am I a boy to climb peach trees this time of the day for your
amusement) Oh ! the irreverence of American youth."

" Giulio has gone on a different errand, and I never should
insult your venerable years by asking you to climb trees, even
in honour of mother's birthday breakfast. You can easily reach
all I want, and then you may come back "nd finish your dream,
ai^d I will keep breakfast waiting until you declare yourself
rcttdy. Here is the basket, I am going out to the garden."

Regina ran doMm into the flower-plot at Jbhe rear of the house,
and after a little while she saw her. uncle, unencumbered by his
coat, bearing the basket on his arm and ascending one of the
winding walks that terraced the hill.

)~.

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Smkmmi^:.- .dammi>^;mmm.mi^^^

47t

WFBUOjL

I i

To hor lifelong oustom of early rising sho still adhered, and
in the dewy hours spent alone, in watching the sun rise over
Como, she indulged predous recollections that found audience
and favour at no other season.

It was her habit to place each morning a fresh bouquet upon^
her mother's plate, and also to arrai^e the flower stand, that
since their residence at the villa,' had never £uled to grace the
centre of the breakfast table.

It was a parsonage custom, and had always been associated
in her mind with the pastor's solemn benediction at each meai.

To^ay, while filling her basket with blossoms, some stray
waft of perfume, or perhaps the rich scarlet lips of a geranium
glowing against the gray stone of the wall, prattled of Fifth
Avenue, and recalled a gay bowUmm^e she encQ saw Mrs. Carew:,
fasten in Mr. Palma's coat.

like a serpent this thought trailed ovor all, and the beauty
of the morning suddenly vanished. Was that gray-eyed Cleo-
patra with burnished hair, low smooth brow, and lips like
Lamia's, resting in her guardian's arms, his wifel ■^■

Three month's had elapsed since the day on which Mr. Ches>
ley received his last letter, containing tidings that bowed and
broke the haughty spirit of Mrs. Laurance ; and if Mr. Palma
had written again, ftegina had not been informed of the fact

Was he married, and in his happiness as a husband, had he
for a time forgotten the ezistenoe of the friends in Europe %

A shadowy hopelessness settled in the girl's eyes when she
reflected that this was probably the correct explanation of his
long silence, and a deep yearning to see him once more rose in
her sad heart. She knew that it was better so, with the Atlan-
tic between them ; and yet, it seemed hard, bitter, to think
of living out the coming years, and never looking upo^ him
again.

A heavy sigh crossed her lips, that were beginning to wear
the patient lines of resignation, and turning from the red gera-
nium which had aroused the memory coiled in her heart, she
stepped upon the terrace, leaned over the marble balustrade
and looked out

The sun was up, and in the verdant setting of its shore the
lake seemed a huge sapphire, girdled with emerald.

In the distance a fishing boat glided slowly, its taut sails
gleaming as the sunlight smote them, like the snowy pinions
of some vast bird brooding ovei; the quiet water; .and high in

wSSSRStESSSBSSSSSiSSSS

INFELIOB.

479

-Vi

the air, just beneath, a strip of orange clond as filmy as laoe, a
couple of happy pigeons cirded round and round, each time
nearing the sun, that was rapidly paving the lake with quiver-
ing gold.

Solemn and serene the distant Alps lifted their glittering
domes, which cut sharply like crystal against the sky that was
as deeply, darkly blue as lapis-lazuli^ and behind the white
villas dotting the shore, vineyards bowed in amber and purple
fruitage, plentiful as Eshcol — ^luscious as Schiraz

The cool air was burdened with mysterious hints of acacias
■and rosto, which the dew had stolen from drowsy gardens, and
over the gently rippling waters floated the holy sound of the
49weet-tongued bell, from

" Where yonder church

Stands up to heaven, as if to intercede
For sinfpl hamlets scattered at its feet'*

Into the house Begina passed slowly, a trifle paler from her
matin reverie; and when she entered the pretty breakfast-
room, Mr. Chodey had just deposited his fruity burden upon
the floor.

'* Thank you, dcjir Uncle Orme. Mothe^will ei^oy her
peaches when she knows you gatho^d them with the dew still
upon their down. Qo fimsh your dream ; Heaven grant it be
sweet 1 No one shall even pass your door for the next hour,
unless shod with velvet, or with silence. This is the first of
mother's birthdays, I have had an opportunity to celebrate, and
I wish to surprise her pleasantly. * Go back to sleep."

She stood on tiptoe, and lightly kissed his swarthy cheek.

" Unfortunately my brain is not sufficiently vassal to my
will, to implicitly obey its mandates ; and dropping on my
pillow, and falling into slumber are quite different things.
Besides (you need not arch your eyebrows any higher, when I
assure you that), despite my honourable years, my hearing is as
painfrUly acute as that of the giant, fabled to watch ' Barest,'
and who ' heard the grass growing in the fields, and the wool
on the backs of young lambs.' Last night just as I was lapsing
into a preliminary doze, two vagprant nightingales undertook
an opera that brought them to the large myrtle under my
window, where I hoped they had reached die fi/noUt, But one
of them — the female, I warrant you, from the clatter of her
«mall tongue — (if female nightingales can sing), audaciously
perched on' the stone balcony ill front of my open window, and

nUii LL.,

^]immm>i»Ai

N 1:

■I V

480

INFSLIOE.

such a tirade of hemi-demi-semi-quavers never before insulted a
sleepy man. I clapped my hands, but they trilled as if all
Persia had sent them a challenge. New I am going to take
a bath, and since you persisted in making me get up, I intend
to punish you with my society, just as soon as I finish my
toilette. K you see a brace of birds smothered in truffles <m the
dinner table, you may suspect the fate of all who violate my
dreams. Even feathered lovers are a pest. My little girl,
before you begin your reign in my California home, I shall re-
mind you of your promise, that no lover of yours will ever dare
to darken' my doors."

With a smile lingering about her lip, after her unde's de^
parture, Regina filled the epergne on the table with a mass of
rose-coloured oleanders — ^her mother^s favourite flowers — and
fringed the edge with geraniums and fuchsias. On her plate ^
she laid a cluster of tuberoses, grouped and tied in the shape '
of a heart, with spicy apple geranium leaves girdling the waxen
petals. The breath of the oleanders perfumed the room, and
when quite satisfied with the arrangement of the flowers, Regina
piled the crimson peaches and golden grapes in a p3rramid on
the silver stand in the centre.

Drawing from her pocket a slender roll of sheet music, fast*
ened with rose ribbon, and a tiny envelope addressed to her
mother, she placed them upon Mrs. Laurance's plate, crowning
all with the white heart of tuberoses.

For some days she had been haunted by a musical idea,
which gradually developed as she improvised, into a Noctv/m/ey
full of plaintive minor passages ; and this first complete musical
composition, written out by her own hand, she had dedicated
to her mother. !» was called : " Dreams of my mother."

Standing beside the table, her hands folded before her^ and
her head slightly drooped, she fell into a brief reverie ; won-
dering how she could endure to live without the society of this
beloved mother, which imparted such a daily charm to her own
existence, and as she reflected on the past, an expression of quiet
sadness stole over her countenance, and into —

*' The eyes of passionless, peaceful blue,
Like twilight which faint stars gaze throngh.**

In the doorway fronting the east, Mr. Palma had stood for
some seconds unobserved, studying the pretty room and its
fair young queen.

i-Ji^i

i^Ci'i

INFBLiaS.

481

«A

•I;

li'

In honour of her mother's birthday she wore a white India
mtwlin, with a blue sash girding her slender waist, and only a
knot of blue ribbon at her throat, where the soft laoe was
gathered. Her silky hair rolled in a heavy coil low at the back
of her head, and was secured by a gold comb ; and close to one
small ear she had fastened a cluster of snowy velvet pansies,
which contrasted daintily with the glossy blackness of her hair.

To the man who had crossed the ocean solely to feast his
hungry eyes upon that delicate cameo face, it seemed as pure
as an angel's. Although continual heart-ache, and patient un*
complaining need of something that she knew and felt Gk>d had
r^uQved forever beyond her reach, had worn the cjbeek to a
thinner oval, and left darker shadows in her calm eyes, Mr.
Palma who had so long and carefully scrutinized her features,
acknowledged now, that indeed :

*' She grew fairer than her peers ;
Still her gentle forehead wears
Holy Ijghts of infant years."

Nearly eight years before, as he watched her asleep in the
railway -sar, he had wondered whether it were possible that she
oould cnrry her tender loving heart, straightforward white
soul, and saintly young face, untarnished and unbruised into
the checkered and feverish realm of womanhood %

To-d<Vy she stood as fair and puze as in her early childhood,
a gentile image of renunciation, "all unspotted from the
world' whose withering breath he had so dreaded for his
flower

Wt^hing her, a sudden splendour of hope lighted his fine
eyes, and a glow of intense happiness fired his usually pale
cheek.

Sl'.>wly she turned away from the table, and against the glory
of the sunlight streaming through the open door, she saw her
guardian's ttdl figure outlined.

Was it a mere blessed vision, bom of her recent reverie on
the terrace ; or had he died, and his spirit, reading the secret of
her soul, had mercifully flown to comfort her by one farewell
appearance % *

He opened his arms, and his whole face was radiant with
passionate and tender love. She did not move, but her eyes
gazed into his, like one in a happy dream, who fears to awake.

He came swiftly forward, and holding out his arms, exclaimed
in a voice that trembled with the excess of his joy :

'^'XiJti^tUijLmXiflK*'^*''^'-

481

INFBLIOB,

/■

''MyLUy! Mydwlmg!"

But she did not spring to meet him, as he hoped and ex<
peoted, and thrilled by the music of his tone she grew paler,
standing quite still, with trembling lips, and eyes that shone
like stars when autumn mists begin to gather.

" My Lily come to me, of your own dear will."

" Mr. Palma I am glad, — very glad to see my guardian onoe
more."

She put out her hand, which shook, despite her efforts to
keep it steady, and her own voice sounded &r, far off, like an
echo lost among strange hills.

He came a step nearer, but did not take her hand, and when
he leaned toward her, she suddenly clasped her hands and
rested her chin upon them, in the old childish fashion he re-,
membered so well. ^,

" Does my lily know why I crossed the Atlantic)"

A spasm of pain quivered over her features, and though he
saw how white her lips turned at that instant, her answer was
clear, cold and distinct.

" Tes, sir. You came on your bridal tour. Is not your wife
at Oomof

" I hope so. I believe so ; I certainly expected to see her
here."

He was smiling very proudly just then, but beginning to
suspect that he hud tortured lier cruelly by the tacit imposture
to which he had assented, his eyes dimmed at the thought of
her suffering.

She misinterpreted the smile, and quickly rallied.

" Mr. Palma, I hope yo^ brought IJora also with you f

" No. Why should 1 1 She is much better off at home with
her mother."

" But, sir, I thought, I understood "—

She caught her breath, and a perplexed expression came
into her wistful deep eyes, as she met those fixed laughingly
upon her.

"You thought, you understood, what) That affcer Uvin^
single all these years, I ani at last foolish enough to want a
wife ) One to kiss, to hold in my arms, to love even better than
I love myself 1 Well, what then ) I do not deny it."

" And I hope, Mr. Palma, that she will make you very
happy."

She spoke with the startling energy of desperation.

I 1^1

mim.

Gtnd ex<
paler,
'i shone

i& once

brte to
ike an

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Is and
lie re-

gh he
» was

r wife

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rhtof

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ring
it a
ban

erj

INFBIIOB.

483

I ill

Thank yen, so do I. I believe, I know, she will ; I swear she
shall ! Oan you tell me my darling's name f "

" Yes, sir, it is no secret. All the world knows it is Mrs.
Oarew."

She was leaning heavily upon her womanly pride ; how long
would it sustain her 1 Would it snap presently, and let her
down forever into the dust of humiliation )

Mr. Palma laughed, and putting his hand under her ohin,
lifted the facet

" All the world is very wise, and my ward quite readily
accepted its teachings. None but Olga suspected the trut^. I
would not marry Brunella Carew, if she were the last woman
left living on the wide earth. I do not want a fashion-moth.
I would not have the residue of what once belonged to another.
I want a tender, pure, sweet, fresh white flower that I know,
and have long watched expanding from its pretty bud. I want
my darling, whom no other man has kissed, who never loved
any one but me ; who will come like the lily she is, and shelter
herself in my strong arms, and bloom out iJl her fragrant love-
liness in my heart only. Will she come?"

Once more he opened his arms, and in hk brilliant eyes she
read his meaning.

The revelation burst upon her like the unexpected blinding
^ow of sunshine smiting one who approaches the mouth of a
cavern, in whose chill gloom, after weary groping, all hope Lad
died. She felt giddy, faint, and the world seemed dissolving in
a rosy mist.

"My Lily, my proud little flower! You will no' •;ome'?
Then Erie Palma must take his own, and hold it, and .rear it
forever ! "

He folded his arms around her, strained her to his bosom,
and laid his warm trembling lips on hers. What a long, pas-
sionate kiss, as though the hunger of a lifetime could never be
satisfied.

After his stern self-control, and patient waiting, the proud
man who had never loved any one but the fair young girl in
his arms, abandoned himself to the ecstacy of possession. He
kused the eyebrows that were so \&re\y in his sight, the waving
hair on her white temples, and again, and again the soft sweet
trembling lips, that glowed under his pressure.

" My precious violet eyes, so tender and holy. My silver
Lily, mine forever. Erie Palma's first, and last, and only

mmJmmmM:.

484

INFBLWB,

t i

When with his oheek resting on hern, he told her wny hie
sense of honour had sealed his lips while she was a ward beneath
his roof, entrusted by her mother to his guardianship, and
dwelt upon the suffering it had cost him to know that others
were sueing for her hand, trying to win away the love, which his
regard for duty prevented him from soliciting, she began to
realize the strength and fervour of the affection, that was now
shining so deliciously upon her heart. She learned the fate of
the glove he had found on his desk and looked up, of the two
faded white hyacinths he had begged and worn in his breast
pocket because they had rested on her hair ; of the songs he
wanted simply for the reason that he had heard them on the
night when she fainted, and he had first kissed her cold uncon-
scious lips.

Would the brilliant New York bar have recognized their
cool, inflexible, haughty favourite, in the man who was pouring
such fervid passionate declarations into the small pearly ear,
that felt his lips more than once )

Erie Palma had much to tell to the woman of his love, much
to explain concerning the events of the day when Elliot Roscoe
witnessed his first interview with Peleg Peterson, and subse-
quently aided, in his arrest, but this morning, long audience was
denied him.

In the midst of his happy whisperb.. a step which he did not
hear, came down the stairs, a form for whom he had no eyes^
stood awhile perplexed, and amazed at the threshold. Then a
very stately figure swept across the marble tiles, and Isid a firm
hand on Regina's shoulder.

« My daughter !"

The girl looked up, startled, confused ; but the encircling
arms would not release her.

" My dear Madam, do not take her away."

Mrs. Laurance did not heed him, her eyes were rivetted on
her child.

^' My little girl, have you too, deceived and forsaken your
unfortunate mother 1 " v

She broke away from her lover's clasp, and thew her arms
around her mother's neck. * -

Pressing her tightly to her heart, Mrs. Lauran6e turned to
Mr. Palma, and said sternly :

" Is there indeed no such thing as honour left among men 1
who knew so well my loneliness and affliction, you

\ou

' I

INFJiLIOS.

486

• I

nir, to whom I trusted my little Iamb, have tried to rob me
of the only treatiiire I thought I poBsessed, the only comfort
left to gladden my Bunlees life ! You have tried to steal my
child's heart, to win her from me."

" No mother, he never let me know, and I never dreamed
that — ^that ho oared at all for me, until this morning. He did
not betray your trust, even for"

" Let Mr. Palma plead his own defence, if he can ; look you
to yours," answered her mother, coldly.

** It is much sweeter fi-om her lips, and you, my dear Madam,
are very oruel to deny mo the pleasure of hearing it. Lily, my
darling, go away a little while, not far, where I can easily find
you ! and let me talk to your mother. If I fail to satisfy her
fully on all points, I shall never ask at her hands the precious
boon I came here solely to solicit."

He took her hand, drew her from the arms that reluctantly
relaxed, and when they reached the threshold smiled down into
her eyes. Lifting her fingera, he kissed them lightly and closed
the door.

What ailed the birds that thrilled their passionate strains so
joyously as slie ran down the garden walk, and into the rose-
arbor 1 Had clouds and shadows flown forever from the world,
leaving only heavenly sunshine, and Mr. Palma 1

" I wonder if there be indeed a quiet spot on earth where I
can hide ; a sacred refuge, where neither nightingale nor human
lovers will vex my soul, or again disturb my peace, with their
eternal madrigals 1 "

She had not seen her uncle, who was sitting in one comer,
clumsily tying up some roses which he intended for a birthday
offering to his niece.

At the sound of his quiet voice, Regina started up.

" Oh Uncle Orme ! I did not see you. Pray excuse me. I
will not disturb you."

She was hurrying away, but he caught her dress.

« My dear, are you troubled with ophthalmia, that you can
not see a man three yards distant, who measures six feet two
inches ) Certainly I excuse you A man who is kept awake
all night by one set of love ditties, dragged out of his bed be-
fore sunrise, and after taking exercise and a bath that render
him as hungry as a Modoc cut off from his lava-beds, is ex-
)>ected and forceH to hold his famished frame in peace, while
a pair of humuii lovers exhaust the vocabulary of cooing, that

C>^

i^mmMtitii^timcti'.i

I.I

fit- '

immm

486

INFEUOE,

man can patiently excuse much. Sit down, my dear girl
Because my beard is gray, and orow-feet gather about my eyes,
do you suppose the old man's heart cannot sympathise with the
happiness that throbs in yours and that renews very sacredly
the one sweet love-dream of his own long buried youth t I
know, dear, you need not try to tell me, need not blush so pain-
fully. Mr. Palma reached Como last evening ; I knew he was
coming, and saw him early this morning. I can guess it all,
and I am very glad. Qod bless you, dear child. Only be sure
you tell Palma, that we allow no lovers in our ideal home."

He put his hand on her drooping head, and drawing it down,
she silently pressed it in her own. So they sat ) how long,
neither knew. She dreaming of that golden future that YuA
opened so unexpectedly before her ; he listening to memory's
echoes of a beloved tone, long since hushed in the grave.

When approaching voices were heard, he rose to steal away,
and tears moistened his mild brown eyes.

** Stay with me, please," she whispered, clinging to his sleevei

Through the arched doorway of the arbour, she saw two
walking slowly.

Mrs. Laurance leaned upon Mr. Palma's arm, and as he bent
his uncovered head, in earnest conversation, his noble brow was
placid, and his haughty mouth relaxed in a half smile. They
reached the arbour, and paused.

In her morning robe of delicate lilac tint, Mrs. Laurance's
sad tear-stained face seemed, in its glory of golden locks, almost
as fair as her child's. But one was just preparing to launch
her frail argosy of loving hopes upon the sunny sea that stretched
in liquid splendour before her dazzled eyes; the other had seen
the wreck of all her heart's most precious freight, in the storm
of varied griefs, that none but Christ could hush, with His
divine "Be still."

The rapressed sorrow in the countenance of the mother was
more touching than any outbreak could have been, and after a
strong effort, she held out her hand, and said :

" My daughter."

Begina sprang up, and hid her face on her mother's neck.

" When X began to hope in a blind dumb way, that nothing
more could happen to wring my heart, because I had my daugh-
ter safe, owned her entire undivided love, and we were all in
all to each other, just when I dared to pray that my sky
might be blue for a little while, because my baby's eyes mirrored

• I

•r

INIEUOE.

487

ear girl
my eyes,
with the
sacredly
mtht I
80 pain-
T he was
MS it all,
rbe sure
•me."
it down,
»w long,
ihat had
memory's
e.
U away^

s sleeve!
aw two

he bent
row was
They

irance's
, almost
launch
retched
Eid seen
storm
ith His

ler was
after a

)ck.

lothing
daugh-
e all in
ay sky
irrored

it, even then the last, the dearest is stolen away, and by my best
friend — too ! Ohild of my love, I would almost as soon see you
in your shroud, as under a bridal veil, for you wil> love your
husband best, and oh ! I want all of your dear heart for my
own. How can I ever give you away, my one star-eyed angel
of comfort 1"

Her white hand caressed the head upon her bosom, and clasp-
ing her mother's waist, the girl said distinctly :

" Let it be as you wish. My mother's happiness is far dearer
to me than my own."

" Oh my darling 1 Do you mean it 1 Would you give up
your lover for the sake of your poor desolate mother 1"

She bent back the fair face and gazed eagerly into the girl's
eyes.

" Mother, I should never cease to love him. Life would not
be so sweet as it looked this morning, when I first learned he
had given me his heart ; but duty is better than joy, and I owe
more to my sufiering mother than to him, or to myself. If it
adds to the cup of your many sorrows to give me even to him, I
will try to take the bitter for my portion, and then sweeten as
best I may the life that hitherto you have devoted to me.
Mother, do with your child, as seems best to your dear heart."

She was very white, but her voice was firm, and the fidelity
of her purpose was prints in her sad eyes.

" Gkid bless my sweet, faithful, trusting child !"

Mrs. Laurance could not restrain her tears, and Mr. Palma
shaded his eyes with his hand.

" My little girl, make your choice. Decide between us."

She moved a few steps, as if to free herself, but in vain ; Be-
gina's arms tightened around her.

" Between you 1 Oh no ! I cannot Both are too dear."

** To whom does your heart cling most closely 1"

*' Mother ask me no more. There is my hand. If you can
consent to give it to him, I shall be — oh ! how happy ! If it
would grieve you too much, then, mother hold it, keep it.
I will never murmur, or complain, for now, knowing that he
loves me, I can bear almost anything."

Tears were streaming down the mother's cheeks, and pressing
her lips to the white mournful face of her daughter, she beck-
oned Mr. Palma to her side. For a moment she hesitated, held
up ' the fair fingers and kissed ' them, then aa if distrusting
herself, quickly laid the little hand in his.

«^>.iu-«U-l.

^i^mmmmmm,

ri H tn. , »»i« «

488

INFBLIOB.

** Take mj darling; and remember that she is the most pre-
cious gift a miserable mother ever yielded up."

After a 'moment, Mrs. Laurance whispered something, and
very soon the lovely face flushed a brilliant rose, the soft tender
eyes were lifted timidly to Mr. Palma's face, and as he drew her
to ^him, she glided from her mother's arms into his, feeling
his lips rest like a blessing from God on her pure brow.

" Does my Lily love me best 9 "

Only the white arms answered his whisper, clasping his
neck ; and Mrs. Laurance and Mr. Chesley left them, with the
dewy roses overhead swinging like centres in the glorious
autumn morning, and the sacred chime of church bells dying in
silvery echoes, among the olive and myrtle that clothed the dis-
tant hills.

CHAPTER XXXVn.

1 1

|N consenting to bestow Regina's hand on Mr. Falma,
Mrs. Laurance had stipuitttsd that the marriage should
be deferred for one year, alleging that her daughter was
yet very young, and having been so long separated she
wished her to remain with her, at least for some months.
Mr. Palma reluctantly assented to conditions which compelled
him to return to America without Begina, and in November
Mrs. Laurance removed to Milan, where she desired that her
child's fine voice and musical talent should be trained and de-
veloped by the most superior instruction.

Swiftly the twelve months speJ away and in revisiting the
Mediterranean shores, linked by so many painful reminiscences
with the period of her former sojourn, Mrs. Laurance, despite
the efforts of her faithful and fond companion, seemed to sink
into a confirmed melancholy.

By tacit agreement no reference was ever made to her past
life, but a shadow, chill and unlifting, brooded over her, t^id the
sleplessness that no opiate could conquer, a sleeplessness bom
of heart-ache which no spell could narcotize, robbed her cheek
of its bloom, and left weary lines on her patient, hope-
lesi} face.

re-

ind
der
her
ling

hia
I tlie
rious
igin
J difi-

^tfWSMWfWP****?^

pwt^Pif j i ■■ yiif ^ myimmm ^ww»

ionths.

Ipelled

lember

her

id de-

the
Icences
Itespite

sink

^r pabt

id the

bom

obeek

hope-

INFSLIOE.

489

Mr. Ohesley had retttmed with Mr. Palma to the tJiiited
States, and late in the following autumn Mrs. Laurance and
Begina sailed for New York.

The associations of the voyage were peculiarly painful to the
unhappy wife, whose lips never unclosed upon the topic that
i ingi'ossed her thoughts, and soon after their arrival, her physi-
oian advised a trip to Florida or Cuba, until the rigour of the
winter had ended, as an obstinate cough again aroused fears of
consumption.

To accompany her mother, Begina postponed her marriage
until June, and notwithstanding Mr. Palma's avowed dissatis-
faction and earnest protest, spent the winter and spring in the
West Indies. Mrs. Laurance gradually regained health, but
not cheerfulness, and in May, when they returned to New
York, preparations were made for the wedding, which in de-
fiarence to her mother's feelings, Begina desired should be very
quiet.

Her husband's estate had long been in Mrs. Laurance's pos-
session, and the stately mansion had been repaired and refur-
nished, awaiting its owner ; but she shrank with a shiver from
the mention of the place, announcing her intention to visit it
no more, until she was laid to rest in the proud family tomb»
whither the remains of Gen. Ben6 Laurance had already been
removed.

In accordance with her daughter's wishes, she had taken for
the summer, a villa on the Hudson, only a short distance from
the city, and a week before the day appointed for the marriage,
they took possession of their country home.

As the time rapidly approached, Mrs. Laurance's depression
of spirits seemed to increase ; she jealously counted the hours
that remained, and her sad eyes rested with fateful foreboding
on her daughter's happy countenance.

On the »h«moon previous to the wedding the mother sat on
the verandah overlooking the velvet lawn that stretched be-
tween the house and the river. The sun was setting, and the
rich, red glow restied upon the crest of distant hills, and smote
the sails of two vessels gliding close to the opposite shore.
''■- On the stone step sat Begina, her head leaning against her
mother's knee, her hand half buried in the snowy locks of
Hero, who crouched ar her side.

" Mr. Palma and Uncle Orme will not arrive until noon ;
bat Qlga oomes early to>morrow. and mother, I know you will

490

nmucB.

be glad to leam that at last her brother haa penniaded her to
abuidon her intentiou of joining the " —

She did not complete the sentence, for glancing xv^ she eaw
that Mrs. Lauranoe'a melanchaly eyea were fixed on the orim-
ion skj and purpling hills far away, and she knew that her
thoughts were haunting gray ashy crypts of the bygone.

For some moments ulence prevailed, and mother and child
presented a singular contrast. The former was clad in somo
violet-coloured fabric, and her wealth of golden hair was
brushed smoothly back and twisted into a loose knot, whero
her daughter's fingers had inserted a moss rose, with clustering
buds and glossy leaves.

The girl wore a simple white muslin, high in the throat,,
where a quilling of soft lace was secured by & bunch of lemon
blooms and violets; and around her coil \%f jet hair twined &
long spray of Arabian jasmine that drooped ahnost to her
shoulder.

One face star-eyed and beaming as Hope, with rosy dream»
lurking about the curves of her perfect mouth ; the otiber pale,
dejected, yet uncomplaining, a lovely statue of Regret.

Very soon the white hand that wore the black agate, wan-
dered across the daughter's silky hair.

" Tender goes the train ; and Mr. Palma will be here in &
few minutes. How little I dreamed that cold, undemonstra-
tive, selfish man would prove such a patient, tender lover?
Truly—

'Beauty hath made onr greatest manhoods weak.*

Kiss me, my darling, before you go to meet him. My blue-
eyed baby ! after to-morrow you will be mine no longer. In
the heart of wives husbands supplant mothers, and reign su-
preme. Do not speak, my love. Only kiss me, and go."

She bent over tiie face resting on her knee, and a moMient
after, Regina, followed by the noble old dog, went down the
circuitous walk leading to the iron gate. On either side stood
deodar cedars, and behind one of these she sa^ down on a rustio
aeat. X

She had not waited long when footsteps approached, and
Mr. Palma'a tall, handaomftfigw* paaaad through the gate, ac-
companied by one who followed slowly.

"lilyl"

The lawyer passed bia arm around her, drew her to hia side^
and whimpered :

kerto

ihe saw
le oriixi'-
lat ber

d ohUd
in some
lir "was
, where
istering

throaty
f lemon
wined &
b to her

dreams
ler pale.

ie.

, wan-

Brein a
lonstra-
lovert

y blue-
jr. In
ignsa-

diluent

the

stood

rustic

I, and
ac*

side^

iNWEUOB.

<* I bring you glad tidiom. I bring my darling a vmy pra-
dous bridfd present— her wther."

Taming qniddy, he put her in Mr. Lauranoe's anni.

*^ Can my daughter cordially weloam« her unhappy and un-
worthy father 1 "

** Oh 1 how merdful God has been to me 1 My father alive
and safe, really folding me to his heart 1 Now my mother can
rest, for now she can utter the forj^veness which h«r heart long
ago pronounced ; but whioh| having withheld at your painful
parting interview, has so sorely weighed down her spirits. Oh t
how bright the world VxikA 1 Thai^ God 1 at last mother can
find peace."

Looking fondly at her radiant t»od, Mr. Laurance asked in
an unsteady voice :

''Will my Minnie's child plead with her for the long lost
husband of her youth % "

** Oh, father ! there is no need. Her love must have tri-
umphed long ago over the sense of cruel wrong, and the mem-
ory of the past, for since we learned that you were among those
who perished, she has silently mourned as only a wife can, for
the husband she loves. Because she sees in my fiace the reflex
of yours, it has of late grown doubly dear to her; and some-
times at night, when she believes me asleep, she touches me
softly, and whispers, ' my Outhbert's baby.' But why have you
so long allowed us to believe you were lost on that vessel t "

Briefly Mr. Laurance outlined the fkots of his escape upon a
raft which was hastily constructed by several of the crew when
the boats were beyond their reach. Upon this be had placed
Maud, and on the morning after the wreck of the vessel, they
succeeded in getting into one of the boats which wa" floating
bottom upward, and providentially drifted quite near raft.
For sei^eral days they were tossed helplessly from wave w «rave,
exposed to heavy rains, and on the third evening poor little
Maud, who had been unconscious for some hours, died in her
father's arms. At midnight, when the moon shone full and
bright, he had wrapped the little form in his coat and consigned
her to a final resting place beneath the blue billows, where her
mother had already gone down amid the fury of the gale. He
knew from the colour and, lettering of the boat that it was the
same in which he had placed his terrified wife, and when it
floated to their raft he could not doubt her melancholy fiite.
A £aw hoors.after Maud'a burial a IHtoish Img bound fiv Val-

.'1 1

493

INFELIdB.

■

I p

1 1

parfliiso discovered the boat and its signals of distress, and tak-
ing on board the four survivors, sailed away on its destined
track. Mr. Laurance had made his way to Rio Janeiro, and
subsequently to Havana, but learning from the published ac-
counts that his wife had indeed perished, and that he also was
numbered among the lost, he determined n6t to reveal the fact
of his existence to any one. Financially beggared, his ifnoes-
tral home covered by mortgages which Mrs. Laurance held,
aud utterly hopeless of arousing her compassion or obtaining
her pardon, he was too proud to endure the humiliation that
would overwhelm him in the divorce suit he knew she intended
to institute, and resolved never to return to the United States,
where he could expect only disgrace and sorrow.

While in Liverpool, preparing to go to Melbourne, he acci-
dentally found and read Mrs. Laurance's advertisement in the
London " Times," offering a reward for any definite information'.

concerning Cuthbert Laurance, reported lost on Steamer .^

Had she relented, would she pardon him now % He was lonely,
desolate; his heart yearned for the sight of his fair young
daughter, doubly dear since the loss of poor Maud, and he
longed inexpressibly to see once more the love of his early, and
his later life.

If still implacably vindictive, would she have continued the
advertisement which so powerfully tempted him to reveal him-
self ) He was fully conscious of his own unworthiness, and of
the magnitude of the wrongs inflicted upon her, but after a long
struggle with his pride, wluch bled sorely at the thought of th««
scornful repulse that might await him, he had written confiden-
tially to Mr. Palma, and in accordance with his advice, returned
to New York.

Only the day previous he had arrived and now came to t»st
the power of memory over his wife's heart.

*' Father, she is sitting alone On this verandah, with such a
world of sadness in her eyes, which have lost the blessed power
of weeping. €k> to her. I believe you need no ally to reach
my mother's heart"

Mr. Laurance kissed her fair forehead and walked a\Hiy ; and
passing his arm around Begina, Mr. Palma drew her forward
aorbss the lawn^ till they reaehed a branching lilae near the
verandah.

Here he paused, took off hit glaMes, and looked proudly and
tenderly down into the violet eyei, that even now met us so
shyly.

INFELICE,

493

" My Lily, to-morrov at this hour yon will be my wife."

His haughty lips were smUing as tLey sought hers, and with
her lovely flushed face half hidden on his shoulder, and one
small hand clinging to his, she watched her father's figure ap-
proaohing the steps.

Mrs. Laurance sat with her folded hands resting on the rail of
the balustrade, her head slightly drooped upon her bosom, and
the beautiful face was lighted by the dying sunset splendour,
that seemed to kindle a nimbus around the golden head, and
rendered her in her violet drapery like some haloed McUer Dolo-
roaa, treading alone the Via Crucia.

Dusky shadows under the melancholy brown eyes, made them
appear^darker, deeper, almost prophetic, and over her lips drifted
a fragment from ** Kegret."

" Oh that word Regrot !
There have been nights and moms when we have sighed,
' Let us alone Regret I We are content
To throw thee all our past, so thoa wilt sleep
For aye.' Bat it is patient, and it wakes ;
It hath not learned to civ itself to sleep,
Bnt 'plaineth on the bed (hat it is luurcL . • .'*

" Ah, yes. In the room of revenge reigns regret. Where is
my revenge % It gleamed like nectar, and when I drained it —
consuming poison dung to my lips. To revenge is to regret —
forever ! To-day how utterly widowed — ^to-morrow — childless.
Oh stranded life I Infelice ! Infelice 1"

Upon the stone steps stood the man, whom her eyes, turned ,
towurds the distant hill-tops, had not yet seen, but when the
passionate pathos of that voice, which had so often charmed and
swayed its audiences, died away in a sob, a musical yet very
tremulous tone fell on the evening air :

« Minnie — my wife! After almost twenty years of neglect,
injustice, and wrong, can the husband of your youth and the
'father of your child hope for pardoni"

" There is no mined life beyond the smile of heaven.
And compensating grace for every loss is giveh,
The CoIiMom's shdl is loved of flower and vine.
And through its shattered rents, the peaceful planets shineti'*

THE END.

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