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Sciences
Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STIteET

WEBiTE* N.Y. USSO

(716) 873-4903

s^.

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CaHM/ICMH

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CASTLE NOWHERE.

CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON.

ODESSA, ONTARIO;
JAMES NEISH k SONS. PUBLISHERS.

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j^y^ij

ji,*ffiLi?<i

■•'* -"^■'*^;<'.i

CASTLE NOWHERE.

Not many years ago the shore borrlering the head of Lake
Michigan, the northern curve of that silver sea, was a wilder-
ness unexplored. It is a wilderness still, showing even now
on the school-maps nothing save an empty waste of colored
paper, generally a pale, cold yellow suitable to the climate, all
the way from Point St. Ignace to the iron ports on the
Little Bay de Noquet, or Badderknock in lake phmseology,
a hundred miles of nothing, according to the map-makers,
who, knovring nothing of the region, set it down accordingly,
withholding even those long-legged letters, * Chi}>-pe-was,' * Ric-
ca-rees,' that stretch accommodatingly across so much townless
territory farther west. This northern curve is and always
has been off the route to anywhere ; and mortals, even Indians,
prefer as a general rule, when once started, to go somewhere.
The earliest Jesuit explorers and the captains of yesterday's
schooners had this in common, that they could not, being
himian, resist a cross-cut ; and thus, whether bark canoeK of
two centuries ago or the high, narrow propellers of to-day,
one and all, coming and going, they veer to the southeast or
west, and sail gayly out of sight, leaving this northern curve
of ours unvisited and alone. A wilderness still, but not un-
explored ; for that railroad of the future which is to make of
British America a garden of roses, and turn the wild trappers
of the Hudson's Bay Company into gently smiling congress-
men, has it not sent its missionaries thither, to the astonish-
ment and joy of the beasts that dwelt therein 1 According to
tradition, these men surveyed the terrifory, and then crossed
over (those of thein at ]ear,t-whoni the beasts had spared) to

CASTLE NOWHKKE.

the lower peuiusula, where, the ploubing vaiie ty of f>w iiujis
being added to the labyrinth of pines and sand-hills, they s^on
lost themselves, and to this day have nevei found what they
lost. As the gleaiu of a cauip-tiro is occasionally seeii, arnl
now and then a distant shout heard by the hunter passing
ftlong the outskirts, it is supposed, that they aie in theie
somewhere suiweying still.

Not long ago, however, no wldte maiVs foot had penetrated
■within our curvy. Across the great ri\er and over the deadly
plains, down to the burning clime of Mexico and U]j to the;
arctic darkness, journeyed our countrymen, gold to gather
and strange countries to see ; but this little pocket of land and
water passed they by without a glance, inasmuch as no iron
mouiitains rose among its pines, no oopper lay hidden in itb
sand ridges, no harbors dented its shores. Thus it remained aix
unknown region, nd enjoyed life accordingly. But the white
man's foot, well booted, was on the way, and one fine afternoon
came tramping through. ' I wish I was a tree,' said this white
man, one Jarvis Waring by name. ' See that young pine, how
lustily it growSj feeling its life to the very tip of ea<;h gi-een
needle ! How it thrills in the sun's rays, how strongly, how
corii[)ietely it carries out the intention of its existence ! It
never has a headache, it — Bah ! what a miserable, half-way
thing is man, who shoidd be a demigod, and is — a creature for
the very trees to pity !' And then he built his camp-fire, called
in his Jogs, and slei)t the sleep of youth and health, none the
less deep because of that Spirit of Discontent that had driven
him forth into the wilderness ; probably the Spirit of Discon-
tent Iciiew what it was about. Thus for days, for weeks, our
wiute man wandered through the forest and wandered at ran-
dom, for, being an exception, he preferred to go nowhere ; he
had liLS compass, but never used it, and, a practised hunter, eat
what oauje in his A\ay and planned not for the morrow, ' Now
am T living the life of a good, hearty, comfortable bear,' he said
to himself with satisfaction.

' No, you are not. Waring,' replied the Spu'^^ of Discontent,
' for you know you have youi' compass in your pocket and can
dji'ccfc yourself back to the camps on L^^ke Superior or to the
Snuic for supplies, which is more than the most accomplished
bear can do.'

' (;ume, \'V'hat do you know about bears ']' answered War-

I»Jl..l ) ,'■1, '■d^.'l .'Ullfl

CASTr.E NOWHERE.

m^ : ' VHT7 Hk.'ly they too hav^* their dejiota of siipplicH,- in
caves perhiipH^ — '

* No caveB hern.'

* In hollow trees, then.'

* You are thinking of the stoiit'H about beaivand wild honey,*
said the j)ei-tinacious Spirit.

* Shut u}), T am going to sleep,* replied tlie man, rolling him-
self in his Idanket ; and then the Spirit, having accomplished
liis object, «miled blandly and withdrew.

Wandering thns, all reckoning lost both of tim«' and pi ice,
our white man came out one evening unexin-ctedly iij)on a
shore ; before him was water stretching away grayly in the fog-
veiled m(X)nlight ; and so successful had been his determined* en-
tangling of hitriHelf in the webs of the wilderness, that he really
knew not whether it was Sui)e7ior, Huron en Michigan that
confronted him, foi- all three bordered on the eastern end of the
up})er peninsula. Not that lie Avished to know ; precisely the
contrary. Glorifying himself in his ignorance*, he built a tire
on the sands, and leaning back against the miniature cliffs that
guard the even beaches of the inland seas, }h> sat looking out
over the water, smoking a comfortable pipe of peace, and listen-
ing meanwhile to the regular wash of the waves. Some })eople
are born with rhythm in their souk, and .,ome not : to Jar\'is
W;i,»ing everything seemed to keep time, from the songs of the
!Ards to the chance words of a friend ; ami dui-ing all thL^ pil-
grinu^ge thiough the wildeinesK. when not actively engaged in
quarrelling wHth the Spirit, he was repeating Vnts of verses and
humming fragments of songs that kept tinu> with his footsteps,
or rathei- they were repeating and humTuing theuiw^lves along
through his brain, while he .sat a|)art arid listened. At this
moment the fragment that canu' and went apropos i>f uothing
was Shakespear':''s sonnet,

* When t« the Ressions of Bweet silt^nt thought,
I siuntnon ui> renxoiu1)rance of things past.'

the

Now the small waves came in but slowly, and the sonnet,
in keeping time with their regidar wash, dragged its syllables
so dolorously that at last the man woke to the realii«ation that
rionaething was annoying him.

6 CASTLE NOWHERE.

' When to — the ses — sious of- Hweet si — lent thought/]

chanted the sonnet and waves together.

* O double it, double it, can't you T said the man impatiently,
* this way : —

*' When to the aeu — sions of »weet »i — lent tliought, te-tum, — te-tum^
te-tum." '

But no ; the waves and the lines persisted in their own
idea, and the listener finally became conscious of a third ele-
ment against him, another sound which kept time with the
obstinate two and encouraged them in obHtinacy, — the dip of
light oais somewhere out in the giay mist.

' When to — the 8es — sions of — sweet si^— lent thought,
1 sum — mon up — remem — branoe of — things past,'

chanted the sonnet and the wa^'e8 and the oars together, and
went duly on, sighing the lack"- of many things they sought
away down to that ' dear friend,' who in some unexplained
way made all their ' sorrows end.' Even then, while peemig
through the fog and wondering where and what was this spirit
boat that one could hear but not see. Waring found time to
make his usual objections. * This summoning up remem-
brance of things past, sighing the lack, weeping afresh, and so
forth, is all very well,' he i emarked to himself, * we all do it.
But that friend who sweeps in at the death with his opportune
dose of comfort is a poetical myth whom I, for one, have never
yet met.'

* That is because you do not deserve such a friend,' answered
the Spirit, briskly reappearing on the scene. * A man who
Hies in the wilderness to escape — '

* Spirit, are you acquainted with a Biblical personage named
David T interrupted Waring, executing a flank movement.

The spirit acknowledged the acquaintance, but cautiously, as
not knowing what was coming next.

' Did he or did he not have anything to say about flying to
wildernesses and mountain-tops t Did he or did he not express
wishes to sail thither in person V

* David had a voluminous way of making remarks.' replied
the Spiait, * and I do not pretend to stand up for them all.
But one thing is certain ; whatever he may have wishsd, in a

;.«:

CASTLE NOWHERE. 7

^•«
musical way, regavding wildernesses and moiiutfiin-topH, when
it cauie to the fact he did not go. And why I Because he — '

' Had no wings,* said Waring, closing the discussion with a
mighty yawn. * I say, Spiiit, take yourself ort'. Something
is coming tishore, and were it old Nick in pei-son T should
be glad to see hiiu and shake his clawed hand.'

Aa he 8])oke out of the fog and into the glare of the tire shot
a phantom skitt', beaching itself straight and swift at his feet,
and so suddenly that he had to withdraw them like a flash
to avoid the crunch of the sharj) bows across the sand.
' Always let the other man sj^eak first,' he thought ; * tiiis
boomerang of a boat has a shape in it, I see. '

The shape rose, and, leaning on its oar, gaztid at the camp
and its owner in silence. It seemed to be an old man, thin
and bent, with bare arms, and a yellow handkerchief bound
around its head, drawn down almost to the eyebrows, which,
singularly bushy and prominent, shaded the deep-set eyes and
hid their exjuessiou.

* But supjMDsing he won't, don't stifle youself,' continued
'Waring j then aloud, * Well, old gentleman, where do you come
fromr

* Nowhere.*

* And where are you going f

* Back there.'

* Couldnt you take nie with you 1 I have been trying all ray
liTe to go nowhere, but never could learn the way : do what I
would, I always found myself going in the opposite direction,
namely, somewhere.'

To this the shape replied nothing, but gazed on.

* Do the nobodies reside in Nowhere, I wonder,' pursued the
smoker ; * because if they do, I am afraid I shall meet all my
friends and relatives. What a pity the somebodies oould not
reside there ! But perhaps they do ; cynics would say so.'

But at this stage the shajxj waved its oar impatiently and de-
manded, * Who are you 1'

* Well I do not exactly know Once I supposed I was Jar-
vis Waring, but the wilderness has routed that prejudice. We
can be anybody we pltcvse ; it is only a question of force or will ;
and my latest chamcter has been William Shakesi)eai-e. 1
have been trying to find out whether I wrote my own plays
Stay to supper and take the other side ; it is long since T have

mmm.

^^^"'"WPipiip"

OASTLE NOWHEKE.

had an argument with flesh and blood. And you are that, —
I are n't yon V

But the shape frownor! until it seemed all eyebrow.- ' Young
man,' it said, * how came you hei'e ? By water ? ' ^ ;

' No ; by land.'
„ * Alongfdicre T

*No ; through the woods.*

*Nob y ever conies through the woods.'

' Agreed ; but I am somebody.'

* Do you mean that you have come across from Lake Superior
on foot /'

' I landed on the suoro of Lake Superior a month or two ago,
and stmck inland the same day ; where I am now 1 neither
know nor want to know.'

' Very \va]\^' said the shape, — ' very well.' But it scowled
iuore ^f ntly. You have no boat V

']%.'■

' Do voti stai t on to-morrow f

' Probably ; by that time the waves and ' the sessions of
sweet silent thought ' will have diiven me distracted between
them. '

' T will stay to supper, T think,' said the .shape, unbending
still further, and .^tejipiiig out of the skiff.

' Deods >)efore words then,' replied Waring, starting back to-
wards 1, tree where his game-bag and knapsack were standing.
When he returned the skiff had disap])eared ; but the shape
was warming its mocoassined feet in a ve?y hinnan sort of way.
They cooked and eat with the appetites of the Avilderness, and
grew sociable af'tei- a fashion. The shape's name was Fog,
Amos Fog. or old Fog, a fisherman and a hunter among the
islands farther to the south : he had come inshore to see what
that fire meant, no j)erson haA^ing camped there in fiftetn long
years.

* You have been htn e all that time, then f

* Ofi' }in<l on, off and on ; I live a wandering life ' replied old
F >g ; and then, with the large curiosity that solitude begets^ be
turned the con^'crsjition back tow.ards the other and his story.

The other, not un^ illing t/) tell his adventures, began readily ;
;Ynd the old man listened, smoking meanwhile a seor nd [tipe pjo-
duced from the compact stores in the knapsack, Tn the web of
rncountera and esca]>es. he placedhis little questions now and

■mmiP

CASTLE NOWHERE.

then , no, Waring had no plan for exploring the region, no in-
tention of settling there, was merely idling away a summer in
the wildemesR and would then go back to civilization never to
return, at least, not that way ; might go west across the plains,
but that woidd be farther south. They talked on, one much,
the other little ; after a time. Waring, whose heart had been
warmed by his flask, began to extol his ways and means.

' Live ? T live like a prince,* he said. * See these tin cases ;
they contain concentrated stores of vaiious kinds. I carry a
lit'le tea, you see, and even a few lumps of white sugar as a
special treat now and then on a wet night.

' Did you buy that sugar at the Sault Y said the old man,
eagerly.

* O no ; X brought it vtp from below. For literature I have
this small edition of Shakespeare's sonnets, the cream of the
whole world's poetry ; and when I am tired of looking at the
trees and the sky, I look at this, Titian's lovely daughter with
liei" upheld salver of fruit. Is she not bea'.itiful as a dream T

' T don't know much about dreams,' replied old Fog, scan-
ning the small picture with curious eyes ? * but is n't she ^ trifle
hea\'y in build ? They dress like that nowadays, I suppose, —
flowered gowns and gold chains around the waist V

' Why, man, that picture Wfvs painted more than three cen-
turies ago.'

' Was it now? Women don't alter much, do they?' said old
Fog, simply. * Then they don't drt'.ss like that nowadays ?'

* r don't know how they dress, and don't care,' said the
younger man, repacking his treasures.

Old Fog concluded to camj) with his nev/ friend that night
and be off at dawn. ' You see it is late,' he said, ' and your
fire's all made and everything comfortable. 1 've a long row
before mo to-morrow : I'm on my way to the Beavers.'

' Ah ! very intelligent animals, I am told. Friends of yours V

* Why, they're islands, Imy ; Big and Litth? Beaver ! Wliat
do you knov.', if you don't know the Beavei-s V

' Man,' i-eplied Waring. ' T flatter myself T know the
human animal well ; he is a misei-able }>. ast.'

' Is htf f said old Fog, wonderingly ; ' who'd have thought
it !' Then, giving up the problem as .'something beyond his
reach, — * Don't trouble yourself if you hear me stinting in the
night,' he said ; ' T am ofteti mighty restless.' And rolling

CASTLE NOWHERE.

himself in his blanket, he soon became, at least as regards the
camp-fire and sociability, a nonentity.

' Simple-minded old fellow,' thought Waring, lighting a fresh
pipe ; has lived around here all his life apparently. Think of
tnat, — to have lived around heie all one's life! I, to be sure,
am here now ; but then, have I not been — ' And here followed
a reverj at remembrances, that glittering network of gajety
and folly which only young hearts can weave, the network
around whose border is written in a thousand hues, 'Eejoice,
yofing man, in thy youth, for it cometh not again.'

* Alas, what sighs from our boding hearts
The inlinite skies have borne away !'

t?>

sings a poet of our time ; and the same thought lies in many
hearts unexpressed, and sighed itself away in this heart of our
Jarvis Waring that still foggy evening on the beach.

The middle of the night, the long watch befoic dawn ; ten
chances to one against his awakening ! A shape is moving
towards the bags hanging on the distant tree. How the sand
crunches, — but he sleeps on. It reaches the bags, this . hape,
and hastily rifles them ; then it steals back and crosses the sand
again, its moccasined feet making no sound. But, as it hap-
pened, that one chance (which so few of us ever see !) appeared
en the scene at this moment and guided those feet dii'ectly
towards a large, thin, old shell masked with newly blown sand ;
it bi-oke with a crack ; Waring woke arid gave chase. The old
man was unarmed, he had noticed that ; and then such a simple-
minded, harmless old fellow ! But simple-minded, harmless old
fellows do not run like mad if one happens to wake ; so the
younger pursued. He was strong, he was fleet ; but the shape
was fleeter, and the space between them griew wider. Suddenly
the shape turned and darted into the water, running out until
only its head was visible above the surface, a dark spot in the
foggy moonlight. Waring pursued, and saw meanwhile another
dark spot beyond, an empty skifi" which came rapidly inshor6-
ward until it met the head, which forthwith took to itself a
body, clambered in, lifted the oars, and was gone in an instant.

' Well,' said Waring, still pursuing down the gradual slope
of the beach, 'will a phantom bark come at my call, I wonder?
At any rate I will go out as far as he did and see.' But

CASTLE NOWHERE.

no; the perildious beach at this instant shelvecl!*oflf snddenlr
and left him atioat in (ieej/ water. Fortunately hejwas a skilled
swimmer, and soon regained the shore wet and angiy. His
dogs were whimpering at a distance, both securely fastened to
trees, and the light of the lire had died down : evidently the
old Fog was not, a fter all, 60 simple as gome other people !

* I might as well see what the old vogue has taken,' thought
Waring; 'all the tobacco and whiskey, I'll be bound.' But
nothing had been touched sa\e the lump-sugar, the little book,
and the picture of Titian's daughter ! Upon this what do you
suppose Waring did 1 He builc a boat.

When it was done, and it took some days and was nothing
but a dug-out after all (the Spirit said that), he sailed out into
the unknown ; which being inteii)reted means that he paddled
southward. From the conformation of the shoi*e, he judged
that he was in a deep curve, protected in a measure from the
force of wind and wave. ' I'll find that ancient manner,' he
said to himself, * if I have to circumnavigate the entire lake.
My book of sonnets, indeed, and my Titian picture ! Would
nothing e.'3e content him / This voyage I undertake from a
pure inborn sense of justice — '

* Now, Waring, you know it is nothing ot the kind,' said
the Spirit who had sailed also. You know you ai-e tired of the
woods and dread going back that way, and you know you may
hit a steamer off' the islands ; besides, you are curious about
this old man who steals Shakespeare and sugar, leaving tobacco
and whiskey untouched.'

* Spirit,' replied the man at the paddh, ' you fairly corrupt
me with your mendacity. Be off" and unlimber yourself in the
fog ; I see it coming in.'

He did see it indeed ; in it rolled upon him in columns, a
soft silvery cloud enveloping e^'erything, the sunshine, the shore,
and the water, so that he paddled at random, and knew not
whither he went, or rather sav.^ not, since knowing was long
since out of the question. 'This is pleasant,' he said to him-
self when the morning had turned to afternoon and the after-
noon to night, ' and it is certainly new. A strotus of tepid
cloud a thousand miles long and a thousand miles deep, and a
man in a dug-out paddling through! Sisyphus was nothing to
this.' But he made himself comfortable in a philosophic way,
and went to the onl} place left to him, — to sleep.

CASTLE NOWHERE.

At (lawn the sunsliine colored the fog golden, but that was
all ; it was still fog, and lay upon the dark water thicker and
softer than ever. Waring eat some dried meat, and considered
the frtDssibilities ; he had reckoned without the fog, and now his
lookout was uncomfortably misty. The provisions would not
last more than a week ; and though he might catch Ksh, how
could he cook them ? He had counted on a shore somewhere ;
any land, however desolate, would give him a fire ; but this fog
was muftiing, and unless he stumbled ashore by chance he
might go on paddling in a circle foit'ever. *Bien,' he Siiid, sum-
ming up, * my part at any rate is io go on ; /, at least can do
my duty.'

' Especially as there is nothing else to do,' observed the
Spirit.

Having once decided, the man kept at his woik with finical
precision. At a given moment he eat a lunch, and v^ery taste-
less it wa*^. too, and then to work again ; the little craft went
steadily on before the stroke of the strong arms, its wake unseen,
its course unguided. Suddenly at sunset the fog folded its gray
fbaperies, spread its wings, and floated off to the southwest,
where that night it rested at Death's Door and sent two
schooners to the bottom ; but it left behind it a released dug-
out, floating before a log fortress which had appeared by magic,
rising out of the water v/ith not an inch of ground to spare, if
indeed there was any ground ; for might it not be a species of
fresh water boao, anchored there for clearer weather"?

' T(^n more strokes and I should have run into it,' thought
Waring as he floated noiselessly Tip to this watery residence ;
holding on by a jutting be«im, he i*econnoitred the premises.
The building was of logs, si^nare, and standing on spiles,, its
north side, under which lie lay, showed a roAv of little windows
all curtaiufd in white, and from one of them peeped the top
of a rose-bush ; there was V,)ut one storey, and the ix)of was flat.
Nothing came to any of these window^s. nothing stin'ed, and
the man in thf dug out, >)eing curious as well as hungry, de-
cided to explore, and touching the wall at intervals pushed his
craft noiselessly around the eastern corner ; but here was a
blank wall of logs and nothing more. The south side was the
Kiune, -^"ith the exception of tv,o loopholes, and' the dugout
gMvlwi its quietest past these. But the west shon'"^ out radiant,

- ""I

CASTLE NOWHEEE.

a iniUe little balcony overhanging the water, and in it a girl in
a mahogany chair, nibbling soniething and reading.

' My sugar and my t nnets, as I am alive !' ejaculated War-
ing to himself.

The girl took a fresh bite with her little \/hite teeth, and
went on reading in the sunset light.

* Cool,' thought Waling.

And cool she looked truly to a man who had paddled two days
in a hot sticky fog, as, clad in white she sat still and placid on
her airy perch. Her hair, of the very light fleecy gold
seldom seen after babyhood, hung over her shouldera uncoufin-
ed by comb or ribbon, falling around her like a veil and glitter-
in the horizontal sunbeams ; her face, throat and hands were
white as the petals of a white camellia, her features infantile,
her cast-down eyes invisible under the full-orbed lids. Waring
gazed at her cynically, his boat motionless ; it accorded with
his theories that the only woman he had seen for months should
be calmly eating and reading stolen sweets. The gii-1 turned a
}>age, glanced up, saw him, and sprang forward smiling ; as she
stood at the balcony, her beautiful hair fell belov.^ her knees.
' ' Jacob,' she ciied gladly, * is that you at last V

' No,' replied Waring, ' it is not Jacob ; rather Esau, Jacob
was too tricky for me. The damsel, ilachel, I presume !'

* My name is Silver,' said the girl, ' and I see you ai o not
Jacob at all. Who are you, then f

' A hungry, tired man who would like to come aboard and
rest awhile.'

' Aboard 1 This is not a boat.'

' What then V

' A castle, — Castle Nowhere.'

* You reside here V

*0f course ; where else should I reside 1 Is it not a beauti-
ful place V said the girl, looking around with a little air of
pride.

* I could tell better if I was up there. ^^b^k^

* Come, then.' VHI'

*Howr

' Do you not see the ladder V

* Ah, yes, — Jacob had a ladder, I remember ; he comes u|
this waj , I suppose V /

' He does not : but I wish he would.'

CASTLE NOWHERE.

* Undoubtedly. But you are not Leah all this time V

* I am Silver, as I told you before ; I know not -what you
mean with your Leah.'

* But, mademoiselle, your Bible — '

* What is Bible V

' It ou have never read the Bible f

' It is a book, then. I like books,' replied Silver, waving
her hand comprehensively ; * I have read five, and now I have
a new one.*

* Do you like it, your new one V asked Waring, glancing to-
wards his property.

* I do not undei-stand it all ; perhaps you can explain to
me r

* I think I can,* answered the yoimg man, smiling in spite of
himself ; * that is, if you wish to learn.*

' Is it hard T

' That depends upon the scholar ; now, some minds — * Here
a hideous face looked out through one of the little windows,
and then vanished. * Ah,' said Waring, pausing, * one of the
family?'

* That is Lorez, my dear oJd nurse.'

The face now came out on to the balcony and showed
itself as part of an old negress, bent and wrinkled with age.

* He came in a boat, Lorez,' said Silver, * and ^et you see he
is not Jacob. But he says he is tired and hu ngry, so we will
have supper now, ^vlthout waiting for father.'

The old woman smiled and nodded, stroking the gii'l's glitter-
ing hair meanwhile Avith her black hand.

* As soon as the sun has gone it will be very damp,' said
Silver, turning to her guest ; ' you will come within. But you
have not told me your name.'

* Jarvis,' replied Waring promptly.

* Come, then, Jar\is.' And she led the way through a
low door into a long nan-ow rqom with a row of little square
winjlows on each side all covered with little square white cur-
tains. The waHs and ceiling were planked and the work-
manship of the whole nide and clumsy ; but a gay carpet cov-
ered the floor, a chandelier adorned with lustres hung from a
hook in the ceiling, large gilded vases and a mirror in a tar-
nished gilt frame adorned a shelf over the hearth, mahogany
chairs stood in ranks against the wall under theJlittle windows

^pamm

CASTLE NOWHERE.

and a long narrow table ran down the centre of the apartment
from end to end. It all seemed strangely familiar • of what did
it remind him ? His eyes fell ujx)n the table-legs ; they were
riveted to the floor. Then it came to him at once, — the long
narrow cabin of a lake steamer.

* I wonder if it is not anchored after all,' he thought.

* Just a few shavings and one little stick, Lorez,* said Sil-
ver ; ' enough to give us light and drive away the damp.*

Up flared the blaze and spread abi-oad the dear home feeling.
(O hearth-fire, good genius of home, with thee a log-cabin Is
cheery and bright, without thee the palace a dreary waste!)

* Arid now, while Lorez is preparing supper, you will come
and see my pets,' said Silver, in her soft tone of unconscious
command.

' By all means,' replied Waring. * Anything in the way of
mermaidens 1'

* Mermaidens dwell in the water, they cannot live in houses
as we can ; aid you not know that ? I have seen them on
moonlight nights, and so has Lorez ; but Aunt Shadow never
sa^ them.'

' Another member of the family, — Aunt Shadow V

* Yes,' replied Silver ; * but she is not here now. She went
away one night when I was asleep. I do not know why it is,*
she added sadly, ' but if people go away from here in the night
they never come back. Will it be so with you, Jarvis ?'

* No ; for I mil take you with me,' replied the young man
lightly. s

* Very well ; and father will go too, and Loreaif said Silver.
To this Tvddition, Waring, like many another man in similar

circumstances, made no reply. But Silver did not notice the
omission. She had oj^jened a door, and behold, they fttood to-
gether in a bower of greenery and blossom, flowers growing
everywhere, — on the floor, up the walls, across the ceiling, in
pots, in boxes, in baskets, on shelves, in cups, in shells, climb-
ing, crowding each other, swinging, hanging, winding around
everything, — a riot of beauty with perfumes for a language.
Two white gulls stood in the open window and gravely survey-
ed the sti-anger.

'They stay with me almost all the time,' said the water-
maiden ; * every morning they fly out to sea for a while, but
they always come back.

mmimm

CASTLE NOWHERE.

Then she fiitted to and fro, kissed the opening blossoms and
talked to them, tying back the more riotous vines and gra>ely
admonishing them.

* They are so happy here,* she said ; * it was dull for them
on shore. I would not live on the shore ! Would you ?'

* Cei*tainly not,' replied Warrng, with an aii- of having sjHint
his entii'e life upon a raft. ' But you did not find all these
blossoms on the shores about here, did you V

* Father found them, — he finds everything ; in his boat
almost every night is something for me. I hope he will couie
soon ; he will be so glad to see you.'

' Will he 1 I wish I was sure of that,' thought Waring.
Then aloud, * Has he any men with him V he asked carelessly.
'O no; we live here all alone now, — father, Lorez, and I.'
' But you were expecting a Jacob V

* I have been expecting Jacob for more than two yeiii's.
Every night I watch for him, but he comes not. Perhaps he
and Aunt ShadoAv will come together, — do you think they will f
said Silver, looking up into his eyes with a wistful expression.

' Certainly,' replied Waring.

* Now am I glad, so glad ! For father and Lorez will never
say so. I think I shall like you, Jarvis.' And, leaning on a
box of mignonette, she considered him gravely with her little
hands folded.

Waring, man of the world, — Waring, who had been under
tire, — Waring, the impassive, — Waring, the unflinching,^ —
turned from this scrutiny.

Supper wBfi eaten at one end of the long table ; the dishes,
tablecloth, and napkins were marked with an anchor, the food
simple but well cooked.

* Fish, of course, and some common supplies I can under-
stand,' said the visitor 3 but how do you obtain flour like this,
or sugar T

* Father brings them,' said Silver, 'and keeps them locked in.
his storeroom. Brown sugar we have always, but white not
always, and I like it so much 1 Don't you V

' No ; I care nothing for it,' said Waring, remembeiing the
few lumps and the little white teeth.

The old negiess waited, and i)eered at the visitor out of her
small bright eyes ; eveiy time Silver spoke to her, she broke
into a radiance of smiles and nods, but said nothing.

^m^^m

QASTLE NOWHERE.

ding

made signs

* She lost her voice some years ago,' explained the little
mistress when the black had gone out for more coffee \ 'and
now she seems to have forgotten how to form words, although
she understands us.'

Lorez returned, and, after refilling Waring's cup, placed
something shyly beside his plat6, and withdrew into the shadow.
' What is it '?' said the young man, examining the carefully
folded parcel.

* Why, Lorez, have you given him that !' exclaimed Silver
as he drew out a scarlet ribboix, old and frayed, but brilliant
still. ' Wo think it must have belonged to her young master,'
she continued in a low tone. * It is her most precious treasure,
and long ago she used to talk about him, and about her old
home in the South.'

The old woniiin came forward after a while, smiling and nod-
like an animated mummy, and taking the red ribbon
threw it around the young man's neck, knotting it under the
chm. Then she nodded wdth treble radiance and
ot satisfaction.

' Yes, it is becoming,' said Silver, considering the effect
thciightfully, her small head with its veil of hair bent to one
side, like a flower swayed by the wttid.

The flesh-pots of Egypt returned to Jar vis Waring's mind :
he remeLibered certain articles of apparel left behind in civiliza-
tion, and murmured against the wilderness. Under the pre-
tence of examining the vases, he took an early opportunity of
looking into the round mirror. * I am hideoiis,' he said to him-
self, uneasily.

* Decidedly so,' echoed the Spirit in a cheerful voice. But
he was not ; only a strong dark young man of twenty-eight,
browned by exposure, clad in a gray flannel shirt and the
rough attii'e of a hunter.

The fire on the hearth sparkled gayly. Silver had brought
one of her little white gowns, half finished, and sat sewing in
its light, while the old negress came and went about her house-
hold tasks.

* So you can sew f said the visitor.

* Of course I can. Aunt Shadow taught me,' answered the
Y'ater-maiden, threading her needle deftly. ' There is no need
to do it, for I have so many dresses ; but I like to sew, don't
you?'

CASTLE NOWIIEKE.

* I cannot say tluit I do. Have yoii so many clreases, then X

* Yes ; would you like to see them ? Wait.'

Down went the little gown trailing along tlio floor, and
away she flew, coming back with her arujH full, -—silks, muslins,
laces, and even jewelry. * Are they not beautiful X she asked,
ranging hei* splendor over the chau'S.

* They are indeed,' said Waring, examining the garments
with curious eyes. * Where did you got theui T

* Father brought them. O, there he is novr, there he is now !
I hear the oars. Come, Lorez.'

She ran out ; the old woman hajitened, carrying a brand fi'om^
the hearth ; and after a moment Waring followed them. ' I
may as well face the old rogue at once,' he thought.

"The moo'\ had not risen and the night was dark ; under the
balcony floated a black object, and Lorez, leaning over, held-
out her flaming torch. The face of the old rogue came out into
the light under its yellow handkerchiet, but so brightened and
softened by loving gladness that the ga/tu* al)Ove hardly knew
it. ' Are you there, darling, safe and well ]' said the old man,
looking up fondly as he fastened his skit!'.

' Yes, father ; here I am and so glad to st'e you,' replied the
water-maiden, waiting at the toj) of the ladder. 'We htive a
visitor, father dear ; are you not glad, so glad to see him V

The two men came face to face, and the elder started back.
* What are you doing here ?' he said sternly.

' Looking for my property.'

' Take it, and begone !'

* I will, to-morrow.'

All this apart, and with the rapidity ot lightning.

* His nauie is Jarvis, father, and we must keep him with
us,' said Silver.

' Yes, dear, as long as he wishes to jstay , but no doubt he
has home and friends waiting for him.'

They wtjnt within. Silver leading the way. Old Fog's eyes
gleamed and his hands were clinched. The younger man
"watched him warily.

' I have been showing Jarvis all uiy tlresses, father, and he
thinks them beautiful.'

* They c^'tainly ''e remaikable," obsei'ved Waring, coolly.
OKI Fog's hands dropped, liu glanced nerxously towards the

visitor.

I .Hi.- •.IJWll.

CASTLE NOWHERE.

* "What have you brought for me to-night, father dear Y

' Nothing, child ; that is, nothing of any consequence. But
it is growing late ; mn off to your nest'

* O no, papa , you have had no mipper, nor — '

* I am not hungry. Go, child, go ; do not gi'ieve me,* said
the old man in a low tone.

* Giieve you ? Dear papa, never !' saicl the girl, her voice
softening to tenderness in a moment. * 1 will nin straight to
my room. — Come, Ijovcz.'

The door closed. ' Now for us two,' thought Waring.

But the cloud had passed from old Fog's face, and he dre^
up his chair confidentially. ' Yo\i see how it is,' he began in
an apologetic ton* ; * that child is the darling of my life, and I
could not resist taking those things for her ; -^he has so few
books, and she likes ;,hose little lumps of sugar.'

* And the Titian picture f said Waring, watching him doubt-
fully.

* A father's foolish pride ; T knew she was lovelier, but I
wanted to see the two side by side. Hhe is lovelier, is n't she V

* T do notlihink so.'

' Don't you V said old Fog in a disappointed tone. * Well,
I suppose I am foolish about her ; we live here all alone, you
see : my sister brought her up.'

' The Aunt Shadow who has gone away V

' Yes ; she was my sister, and — and she went away last
year,' said the old man. * Have a pipe V

' T should think vou would find it hard work to live here.'

' T do ; but a poor man cannot choose. I hunt, fish, and get
out a few furs sometiuKJS ; I traffic with the Beaver j>eople
now and then. T bought all this furniture in that way ; you
would not think it, but ihey have a gi*eat many nice things
down at Beaver.'

* It loot ? like steamboat furniture.'

* That is it ; it is. A steamer went to piect^s down there,
and they saved almost all her furniture and stores; they are
vtny good sailors, the Beavers.'

' Wrecker's, pei'hajrs V

' Well I Avould not like to say that ; you know we do have
tenible stoi-ms on these waters And then there is the fog ;
this'^pait of Lake Michigan is foggy half the time, why, I never
ccv.ld grioss ; but twelve hours out the twenty-four the gray

CASTLE NOWHERE.

mibt lies on tlie water here ami outside, sliiftiug slowly back-
wards and forwards from Little Tia verse to Death s Door, and
up into this curve, like a waving curtain. Those silks, now,
came from the steamer ; tiiuiks, you know. But I ha\ e ne\ er
told Silver ; she might ask where were the people to whom
they belonged. You do not like the idea? Neither do I.
But how could we hel}) the drowning when we were not there,
and these things were going for a song doAvn at Beaver. The
child loves pietty things ; what could a poor man do ? Have
a glass of punch ; I'll get it ready in no time.' He bustled
about, and then came back with the full glasses. * You won't
tell hei" ? I nyiy have done wrong in the matter, but it would
kill me to have the child lose faith in mo,* he said, humbly.

* Ai-e you going to keep the girl shut up lere forever V said
Waring, half touched, half disgusted ; the old fellow had look-
ed abject as he i)leailed.

* That is it ; no,' said Fog, eagerly. * She has been but a
child all this time, you see, and my sister taught her well. We
did the best we could. But as soon as I have a liitle more, just
a little more, I intend to move to one^i^f the townn down the
lake, and have a small house and eveiything comfortable. I
have planned it all out, I shall have — '

He rambled on, gari-ulously detailing all his fancies and i>ro-
jects while the younger man sipped his punch (which was veiy
good), listened until he was tired, fell into a doze, woke and
listened awhile longer, and then, wearied out, proposed bed.

' Certainly. But, as I was saying — '

' I can hear the rest to-morrow,' said Waring, rising with
scant courtesy. '

* I am sorry you go so soon ; could n't you stay a few days V
fiaid the old man, lighting a brand. * I am going over to-
morrow to the shore where I met you. I have some traps
there ; you might enjoy a little hunting.'

* I have had too much of that already. I must get my dogs,
and then I should like to hit a steamer or vessel going below.'

* Nothing easier ; we'll go over after the dogs early in the
morning, and then I'll take you right down to the islands if the
wind is fail. Would you like to look around. the castle, — I am
going to draw up the ladders. No 1 This way, then ; here is
jour room.'

It was a little side-chamber with one window high up over

CASTLE NOWHERE.

the water ; there was an iron l)olt on the door, and the walls
of hare logH were solid. Waiing stood his gun in one comer,
and laid his pistols hy the side of the bed, — fo" there was a hed,
only a nide framework like a low-down shelf, hut covered with
mattress and shet^ts none the loss, — and his weary l>ody longed
for th<^ise luxunes with a longing that only the Avildemess can
give -the wilderness with its heds of boughs, and no undress-
ing The bolt and the logs shut him in safely ; he w.ih young
and atroug, and there were liis pistols. ' Unless they bum
down their old castle,' he said to himself, * they cannot harm
me.' And then h(^ fell to thinking of the lovely childlike girl,
and his heart, gvew soft. ' Poor old man,' he said, * how he
must have worked and stolen and starved to'keep her safe and
warni in this far-awav nest of his hidden in the fojjs ! T won't
betray the old fellow, and I'll go to-moiTow. Do you hear that,
Jai-vis Waling ? I'll go to-morrow ?

And then the Sjnrit, who had been listening as usual, folde<l
himself nii silentlv and flew awav.

To go to sleep in a bed, and awake in an oj)en boat diifting
o\it to sea, is stai-tling. Waring was not without expen'ences,
stfli-tling and so foHh, bitt this exceeded foi-mer sensations ;
when a bear had him, for instance, he at least understood it,
but this was not a bear, but a boat. He examined the craft as
well as he coidd in the darkness. * EAndently boats in some
sh.tpe or other are the genii of this region.' he said ; * they
come shooting ashore fi-om nowhere, they sail in at a signal
without oai"s, canvas, or crew, and now they have taken to kid-
na}»j)ing. It is foggy too, I'll warrant ; they are in league with
the fogs.' He looked up, but couki see nothing, not even a star,

* What does it all mean anyway ? Where am T ? Who am 1 1
Am T anyl o ly 1 Or has the body gone and left me only as an
am' V But no one answered. Finding himself partly dressed,
with the i-est of his clothes at his feet, he concluded that he
was not yet a spirit ; in one of his pockets was a match, he
sti'uck it and came back to reality in a flaf«h. The >)oat was his
own dug-out, and he himself and no other was in it : so far, so
good. Everything else, however, was fog and night. He found
the paddle and began work. * We shall see who will conqutr,'
he thought, doggeilly, * Fate or I !' So he paddled on an hour
for more.

Til

tho ^yzvA arose and

drove the fog helti i-skelter across

CASTLE NOWHERE.

to Gveen Bay, wliere the gi'ay ranks curled themseh'es clown
and lay hidden until morning. ' I'll go with the wind,' thought
Waring, ' it must take nie Homewhere in time.' So he changed
Ids course and paddled on. The wind grew strong, then strong-
er. He could see a few stars now as the ragged dark clouds
scudded across the heavens, and he hoped for the late moon.
The wind grew wild, then wilder. It Dook all his skill to man-
age his clumsy boat. He no longer asked liimself where he
waf. or who ; he knew, — a man in the grasp of death. The
wind was a gale now, and the waves were pressed down fiat by
its force as li; flew along. Suddenly the man at the paddle,
almost despaiiing, espied a light, high up, steady, strong. * A
lighthi use on one of the islands,' he said, and steered for it with
a\l his might. Good luck was with him ; in half an hour he
fait the beach under him, and landed on the siioru ; but the
light he saw no longer. * I must be close in under it,' he thought.
In the train of the gale came thunder and lightning. Waring
»at under a bush watching the powers of the air m conflict, ho
(Saw the fiuy of theii* darts and heard the crash of theii" artilleiy,
an4 luused upon the wonders of creation, and the riddle of
man's existence. Then a flash came, diflerent from the others
in that it brought the human element upon the scene ; in its
light he saw a vessel driving helplessly before the gale. Down
from his spirit-heights he came at once, and all the man within
him was stirred for those on board, who, whether or not they
had ever perplexed themselves over the riddle of their existence,
no doubt now shrank from the violent solution oflered to them.
But what coiUd he do ? He knew nothing of the shore, and
yet there must be a harbor somewhere, for was there not the
light 1 Another flash showed- the vessel still nearei', drifting
bri^adside on ; involuntarily he ran out on the long sandy point
where it seemed tliat soon she must strike. But soone)* came a
ci-ash, then a giinding sound ; there was a reef outside then,
and she was on it, the rocks cutting her, and the waves pound-
ing her down on their merciless edges. ' Strange !' he thought.
* The hai'bor must be on the other side I suppose, and yet it
seems as though I came this way.' Looking around, theie wasi
the light high up behind him, burning clearly v.iid strongly,
while the vessel was breaking to pieces below, * It is a lui-e,*
he said, indignantly, * a false light.' In liis wrath he spoke
aloud ; suddenly a shape came out of the darkness, cast him

mtm

"» AlMigpipi

CASTLE NOWHERE.

down, and tightened a grasp aronnd his throat. ' I know you,'
he nmttered, strangling. One iiand was tree, he drew out his
pistol, and tired ; the shape fell back. It was old Fog. Wound-
ed ■? Yes, hadly.

Waring found his tinder-box, made a blaze of driftwood, and
bound u]»the bleeding arm and leg roughly. * Wretch,' he said,
' you set that light.'

Old Fog nodded. ■

* Can anjiihing be done for the men on Ijoai-d 1 Answer or
I'll end your miserable life at once ; 1 don't know why, indeed,
I have tried to save it.' .--loisj

Old Fog shook his head. ' Nothing,' he murmured ; I know
eveiy inch of the leef and shore.*

Another tlash revealed for an instant the doomed vessel, and
Waring i-aged at his owti impotence as he strode to and fro,
tears of anger and pity in his eyes. The old man watched him
anxiously. * Theie are not more than six of them,' he said ;
' it was only a small schooner.'

* Silence !' shcated Waring ; each man of the six now suffer-
ing and drowning is worth a hundred of such as you !

* That may be,' said Fog.

. Half an hoiir afterwards he spoke again. * They're about
gone now, the water is deadly cold up here. The wind will go
down soon, and by daylight the thitigs will be coming ashore ;
you'll see to them, won't you 1

* I'll see to nothing, murderer V
' And if I die what are you 1'

* All avenger.'
' Silver must die too then ; there is but little in the house,

she will soon starve. It was for her that I came out to-night.*

* I will take her away ; not for your sake, but for hers.'

* Ho^^T can you find her f

* As soon as it is daylight I ^vi\\ sail over.'

* Over ? Over where ? That is it, you do not know,* said
the old man, eagerly, raising himself on his unwounded arm.
* You might row and sail about here for days, and I'll warrant
you'd never find the castle ; it's hidden away more carefully
than a nest in the reeds, trust me for that. The way lies
through a i)erfect tangle of channels and islands and marshes,
and the fog is sure for at least a good half of the time. The *
sides of the castle towards the channel show no light at all ;

mmm

CASTLE NOWHERE.

and even when you're once thiongiitlie ontlying islets, the only
approach is ipasked by a movable bed of sedge which I con-
trived, and which turns you skilfully back into the marsh by
another way. No ; you might float around there for days but
you'd never find the castle.'

* I found it once.'

* That was because you came from the north shore. I did
not guard that side, because no one has e'.er come that way ;
you remember how (juickly T saw your light and ix)wed over
to find out what it was. But you are miles away from there
now.'

The moon could not pierce the heavy clouds, and the night
continued dark. At last the dav come slowly up the east
and showed an angry sea, and an old man grayly pallid on the
sands near the dying tire ; of the vesnel nothing was to be
se{ n.

' The things will be coming ashore, the things will be coming
ashore,' muttered the old man, his anxious eyes turned towards
the water that lay on a level with his face ; he could not raise
himself now.

* Do you see things coming ashore V

Waring looked sea)'chingly at him. * Tell me the truth/
he said, ' has the girl no boat V
'No.'

* Will any one go to rescue her ; does any one know of the
castle?'

* Not a human being on this earth.'
' And that aunt, — that Jacob ?'

' Did'nt vou guess it ? Thev ai'e both dead. I rowed them
out V)y nigbt and buried them, — my poor old sister and the
boy who ha<l l)een our serving-lad. The child knows nothing
of death. I told her they had gone awav.'

* Fs trieie no way for her to cross to the islands or mainland V
' No ; there is a cii'clf of (lep]i water all around the castlo,

outside.'

' T see nothing for it, then, Imt tf) try to save your justly for-
feited life,' said Wai-ing. kneeling down with an expression of
repugnance. He was something of a surgeon, and knew what
he was about. His task over, he made up tjie fii-e, warmed
some food, fed the old man. and heljied his waning strength
with the contents of his flask. ' At least you placed all my

CASTLE NOWHERE.

propei'^y in the chig-oiit before you set rae adrift/ he said ; * may
I ask voiir motive V

' I did not wish to hann you ; only to get rid of you. You
had provisions, and your chances were as good as many you
had had in the woods.'

' But I might have found my way back to your castle V

* Once outside, you could never* do that,' replied the old man,
securely.

* I could go back along-shore.'

' There are miles of piny -wood swamps where the streams
come down ; no, you could not do it, unless you went away
round to Lake Supexioi- again, and struck across the country
as you did before. Tliat would take you a month or two, and
the summer is almost over. You would not risk a Northern
snowstorm, I leckon. But say, do you see things coming
ashoie T

' The poor bodies will come, no doubt,* said Waring, sternly.

* Not yet ; and they don't often come in here, anyway ;
they 'i"e more likely to drift out to sea.'

* Miserable creature, this is not the first time, then V

* Only four times, — only four times in fiftesen long years, and
then only when she was close to starvation,' pleaded the old
man. * The steamer was honestly wi-ecked, — the Anchor, of
the Buifalo line, — honestly, I do assure you ; and what I gather-
ed from her — she did viot go to pieces for days — lasted me a
long time, besides furnishing the castle. It was a godsend to
me, that steamer. You must not judge me, boy ; I worfr, I
slave, I go hungiy and cold, to keep her happy and warm.
But times come when evervthinff fails and starvation is at the
door. She never knows it, none of them ever knew it, for I
keep the kej's and amuse tliom with little mysteries ; but, as
G»/'l is my judge, the wolf has been at the door, and is there
this moment uuIkss I have luck. Fish ? There are none in
shore where they can catch them. Why do I not fisii for them 1
I do ; l)ut my darling is not accustomed to coai'se fare, her deli-
cate life must be delicately nourished. O, you do not know,
you do not know ! T am growing old, and my hands and eyes
are not what they were. That very night when I came home
and found you there, T had just lost overboard my last sup-
plies, stored so long, husbanded so carefully ! If I could walk,
I would show you my cellar and storehouse back in the woods.

CASTLE NOWHERE.

Many things that they have hehl were honestly earned, by my
fish and my game, and one thing and another, I get out tim-
ber and raft it down to the islands sometimes, although the^
work is too hard for an old man alone ; and T trade my furs off
regularly at the settlements on the islands and even along the
mainland, — a month's work for a little flour or sugai-. Ah,
how I have labored ! I have felt my muscles crack, I have
dropped like a log from sheer weariness. Talk of toi-tures ;
which of them ha^e I not felt, with the pain 3 and faintness of
exposure and hunger racking me from head to foot ? Have I
stopped for snow and ice 1 Have I stopped for anguish ?
Never ; I have worked, worked, worked, with the teal's of
pain rolling down my cheeks, with my body gnawed by hun-
ger. That night, in some way, the boxes slipped and fell over-
board as I was shifting them ; just slipped out of my grasp as
if on purpose, they knowing all the time that they were my
last. Home I came, empty-handed, and found you Uiere ! I
wo\ild have taken your supplier,, over on the north beach, that
night, yes, without pity, had I not felt sure of those last boxes ;
but I never rob needlessly. You look at me with scorn 1 You
are thinking of those dead men ? But what are they to Sil-
ver, — the rough common fellows, — and the wolf standing at
the castle door ! Believe me, though, I trv everything before
I resort to this, and only twice out of the four times have I
caught anything with my tree-hung light ; once it was a vessel
loaded with provisions, and once it was a schooner with grain
from Chicago, which washed overboard and was worthless.
0, the bitter day when I stood here in the biting wind and
watched it float by out to sea ! But say, has anything come
ashore ? She will be waking soon, and we have miles to go.'
But Waring did not answer ; he turned away. The old man
caught at his feet. * You are not §oing,' he cried in a shrill
voice, — * you are not going '? Leave me to die, — that is well ;
the sun will come and burn me, thirst will come and madden
these wounds will tc"ture me, and all is no more than I

deserve. But Silver ? If I die, she dies. If you forsake me,
you forsake hor. Listen ; do you believe in your Christ, the
dear Christ 1 Then, in his name I swear to you that you can-
not reach her alone, that only I can guide you to her. O save

nse, for her sake ! Must she sufter and

linger

and die 1 O

CASTLE NOWHERE.

that

God, have pity and soften his heart !' The voice died away in
sobs, the weak slow sobs of an old man.

But Waring, stem in avenging justice, drew himself from
the feeble grasp, and walked down towards the boats. Ho did
not intend fairly to desert the miserable old creature. Ho
hardly knew what he intended, but his impulse was to put
more space between them, between himself and this wi*etch who
gathered his e^dl living fi'om dead men's bones. So he stood
gazing ouc to sea. A faint cry roused him, and, turning, he
saw that the eld man had dragged himself half across the dis-
tance between them, marking the way with his blood, for the
bandages were loosened by his movements. As Waring turn-
ed, he held up bis hands, cried aloud, and fell as if dead on the
sands. ' I am a brute,' said Waring. Then he went to work
and brought back consciousness, rebound the wounds, lifted
the body in his strong arms and bore it down the btach. A
sail-boat lay in a co^-e, vvdth a little skiff in tow. Waring ar-
ranged a couch in the bottom, and placed the old man in an
easy position on an impromptu pillow made of his coat. Fog
opened his eyes. ' Anything come ashore V he asked faintly,
trying to turn his head towards the reef. Conquering his re-
pugnance, the young man walked out on the long point. There
was nothing there ; but farther down the coast barrels were
washing up and back in the surf, and one box had stranded in
sliallow water. ' Am I, too, a wrecker T he asked himself, as
with much toil and trouble he secured the booty and examined
it. Yes, the ban-els contained provisions.

Old Fog, revived by the sight, lay propped at the stem,
giving directions. Waring found himself a child obeying the
orders of a wiser head. The load on board, the little Fikiff
carrying its share behind, the young man set sail and away
they flew over the angry water ; pld Fog watching the sky,
the sail, and the rudder, guiding their course with a word now
and then, but silent otherwise.

* Shall we see the castle soon f asked Waring, after several
hours had passed.

' We may be there by night, if the wind does n't shift.'

* Have we so far to go, then 1 Why, I came across in the
half of a night.'

' Add a day to the half and you have it. I let you dowja at
dawn and towed you out until noon ; I then spied that sail

CASTLE NOWHERE.

beating up, and I knew there would be a storm by night,
and — and things were desperate with me. So I cast you off
and came ovei- to set the light. It was a chance I did not
count on, that your dug-out should float this way ; I calculated
that she would beach you safely on an island farther to the
south,'

* And all this time, when you were letting me down — By
the way, how did you do it V

* Lifted a plank in the floor.'

* When you were letting me down, and towing me out, and
calculating chances, what was I, may 1 ask V

' O, just a body asleep, that was all ; your punch was drug-
ged, and well done too ! Of course I could not have you at
the castle ; that was plain.'

They flew on ?» while longer, and then veered short to the
left. ' This boat sails well,' said Waring, ' and that is your
skifi" behind I see. Did you whistle for it that night f

' I let it out by a long cord while you went after che game-
bag, and the shore-end I fastened to a little stake just under
the edge of the water on that long slope of beach. I snatched
it up as I ran out, and kept hauling in until I met it. You
fell off that ledge, did n't you ? I calculated on that. You
see I hnd found out all I wanted to know ; the only thing I
feared was some plan for settling along that shore, or exploring
it for something. It i*^ my weak side ; if you had climbed up
one of those tall trees you might have caught sight of the
castle, — that is, if there was no fog.'

' Will the fog come up now f

' Hardly ; the storm has been too heavy. I suppose you
know what day it is f continued the old man, peering up at
his companion from under his shaggy eyebro\v8.

* No ; I have lost all reckonings of time and place.'

* Purposely V
'Yes.'

' You are worse than I am, then ; I keep a reckoning, al-
though I do not show it. To-day is Sunday, but Silver does
not know it ; all davs are alike to her. Silver has never heard

- V

of the Bible,' he added, slowly.
'Yes, she ha,s, for I told her.'
'You told her !' cried old Fog, wringing his hands. ,

* Be quiet, or you will disturb those bandages again. I only

CASTLE NOWHERE.

asked her if she bad road the book, and she said no ; that was
all. But supposing it had not })een all, m hat then ] Would
it harm her to know of the Bible V

* It would harm her to lose faith in me.*

* Then why have ycu not told her yourself?'

' I left her to grow up as the flowers grow/ said old Fog,
writhing on his couch. ' Is she not pure and good ? Ah, a
thousand times more than any church or school could make
her !'

* And yet you have taught her to read V

' I knew not what might happen. I could not expose her de-
fenceless in a hard world. Religion is fancy, but educa tion is
like an armor. I cannot tell what may happen.'

* True. You may die, you know ; you are an old man.'
The old man turned away his face.

They sailed on, eating once or twice ; afternoon came, and
then an archipelago closed in around them ; the sail was down,
and the oars ■mt. Around and through, across and back, in
and out they wound, now rowing, now poling, and now and
then the sail hoisted to scud across a space of open water.
Old Fog's face had giown gray again, and the lines had deep-
ened across his haggard cheek and set mouth ; his strength
was failing. At last they came to a turn, broad and smooth
like a canal. ' Now I will hoist the sail again,' said War-
ing.

But old Fog shook his head. ' That turn leads directly back
into the marsh,' he said. ' Take your oar and push against the
sedge in front.'

The young man obeyed, and lo ! it mo^ed slowly aside and
disclosed a narrow passage w^estward ; through this they poled
their wajr along to open water, then set the sail, rounded a
point, and came suddenly upon the castle. ' Well, I am glad
we are here,' said Waring.

Fog had fallen back. 'Promise,' he whispered with gi'ay
lips, — 'promise that you will not betray me to tue child.'
And his glazing eyes fixed themselves on Waring's face with
the mute appeal of a dying animal in the hands of its captor.

* I promise,' said Waring.

But the old man did not die ; he wavered, lingered, then
slowly rallied, — very slowly. The weeks had grown into a
month and two before he could manage his boat again. In the

CASTLE NOWHERE.

mean time "Waring hunted and fished for the household, and
even sailed over to the reef with Fog on a bed in the bottom
of the boat, coming back loaded with the spoil ; ict once only,
not twice did he go ; and at last he knew the way, even
through the fog, and came and went alone, bringing home the
very planks and beams of the ill-fated schooner. * They will
make a bright fire in the evenings/ he said. The dogs lived
on the north shore, went hunting wheu their master came over
and the rest of the time possessed their souls in patience. And
what possessed Waring, do you ask ? His name for it was
' necessity.' ' Of course I cannot leave them to starve,' he said
to himself

Silver came and went al)out the castle, at first wilfully, then
submissively, then shyly. She had folded away all her finery
in wondering silence, for Waring's face had shown disapproval,
and now she wore always her simple white gown. * Can you
not put up your hair V, he had asked one day ; and from that
moment the little head ^appeared crowned with braids. She
worked among her flowers and fed her gulls ub usual, but she
no longer talked to them or told them stories. In the even-
ings they all sat around the henrth, and sometimes the little
maiden sang ; Waring had taught her new songs. She knew
the sonnets now, and chanted them around the castle to tunes
of her own ; Shakespeare would not have known his stately
nieasui'es, dancing along to h(!i' rippling melodies.

The black face of Orange shone and simmered with glee |
she nodded perpetually, and crooned and laughed to herself
over her tasks by the hour together, — a low chuckling laugh of
exceeding content.

And did Waring ever stoj) to think 1 I know not. If he
did, he forgot the thoughts when Silver came and sat by him
in the evening with the light of the hearth-fire shining over her.
He scarcely saw her at other times, except on her balcony, or
at her flower-window as he came and went in his boat below ;
but in the evenings she sat beside him in her low chair, and
laid sometimes her rose leaf palm in his rough brown hand, or
her pretty head against his arm. Old Fog sat by always ; but
he said little, and his face was shaded by his hand.

The early autumn gales swept over the lakes, leaving wi'eck
and disaster behiml, but the crew of the castle stayed safely at
home and listened to the tempest cosily, while the flowers

■Pilfl^ppi^

wipipp

CASTLE NOWHERE.

bloomed on, and the gulls brought all their relations and colo-
nized the balcony and window sills, fed dail> by the fair hand
of Silver. And Waring went not.

Then the frosts came, and turned the forests into splendor ;
they rowed over and brought^ out branches, and Silver decked
the long room with scarlet and gold. And Waring went not.

The dreary November rains began, the leaves feU, and the
dark water surged heavily ; but a store of wood was piled on
the flat roof, and the file on the hearth blazed high. And still
Waring went not.

xVt last the first ice appeared, thin flakes forming around the
log foundations of the castle ; then old Fog spoke. * I am
quite well now, quite strong again ; you must go to-day, or you
will find yourself frozen in here. As it is, you may hit a late
ve ssol off the islands that will carry you below. I will sail
over with you, and bring back the boat.'

' But you are not strong enough yet,' said Waring, bending
over his work, a shelf he was carving for Silver ; * I cannot go
and leave you here alone.'

It is either go now, or stay all winter. You do not, I pre-
sume, intend to make Silver youi- wife, — Silver, the daughter of
Fog the wrecker.

Waring's hands stopped ; never before had the old man's
voice taken that tone, never before had he even alluded to the
girl as anything more than a child. Ov the contrary, he had
been silent, he had been humble, he had been openly grateful
to the stron£ young man who had taken his place on sea and
shore, and kept the castle full and warm. * What new thing
is this T thought Waring, and asked the same.

' Is it new V said Fog. • I thought it old, very old, I
mean no mystery, I speak plainly. You helped me in my great
strait, and I thank you ; perhaps it will be counted unto you
for good in the reckoning u[) of your life. But I am strong
again, and the ice is forming. You can have no intention of
making Silver your wife T

Waring looked up, their eyes met. * No,' he replied slowly,
as though the words were being dragged out of him by the
magnetism of the old man's gaze, ' I certainly have no such in-
tention.'

Nothing more was said ; soon Waring rose and went out.
But Silver spied him Trom her flower-room, and came down to

CASTLE NOWHERE.

the sail-boat whero it lay at the foot of the ladder. ' You are
not going out this cold day,' she said, standing by his side as
he busied himself over the rigging. She was wrapped in a fur
mantle, with a fur cap on her head, and her rough little shoes
were fur-tiimmed. Waring made no reply. * But I shall not
allow it,' continued the maiden, *gayly. * Am I not queen of
this castle ? You yourself have said it many a time. You
cannot go, Jarvis ; I want you here.' And with her soft
hands she blinded him playfully.

' Silver, Silver,' called old Fog's voice above; * come within ;
I want you.'

After that the two men were very crafty in their prepara-
tions.

The boat ready, Waring went the rounds for the last time.
He brought down wood for several days and stacked it, he
looked again at all the provisions and reckoned them over ;
then he rowed to the north shore, visited his traps, called out
the dogs from the little house he had made for them, and bade
them good by. * T shall leave you for old Fog,' he said ; * be
good dogs, and bring in all you can for the castle.'

The dogs wagged their tails, and waited politely on the beach
until he was out of sight j but they did not seem to believe his
story, and went back to their house tranquilly without a howl.
The day passed as usual. Once the two men happened to meet
in the passage-way. * Silver seems restless, we must wait till
darkness,' said Fog in a low tone.

* Very well,' replied Waring.

At midnight they were off, rowing over the black water in
the sail-boat, hoping for a fair wind at dawn, as the boat was
heavy. They journeyed but slowly through the winding chan-
nel, leaving the sedge-gate open ; no danger now from intru-
ders ; the great giant, Winter, had swallowed all lesser foes.
It was cold, very cold, and they stopped awhile at dawn on the
edge of the marsh, the last shore, to make a fire and heat some
food before setting sail for the islands.

' Good God !' cried Waring.

A boat was coming after them, a little skiff they both knew,
and in it paddling, in her white dress, sat Silver, her fur man-
tle at her feet where it had fallen unnoticed. Tliey sprang to
meet her knee-deep in the icy water ; but Waring was first,
and lifted her slight form in his arms.

CASTLE NOWHERE.

back with us, and I will trust it all to

' I have found you, JamHs,' she murmured, laying her head
down upon his shoulder , thtn the eyes closed, and the hand
she had tried to clasp around his neck fell lifeless. Close to
the lire, wrapped in furs, Waring held her in his arms, while
the old man bent over her, chafing her hands and little icy feet,
and calling her name in an agony.

' Let her but come back to life, and I will say not one word,
more,' he cried with tears. * Who am I that I should torture
her? You shall
God,— all to God.'

* But what if I will not go back, what if I will not accept
your ti list V said Waring, turning his head away from the face
pillowed on his breast,

' I do not trust you, I trust God ; he will guard her.'

' I believe he will,' said the yoimg man, half to himself.
And then they bore her home, not knowing whether her spirit
was still with them, or already gone to that better home await-
ing it in the next country.

That xiight the thick ice came, and the last vessels fled south-
ward. But in the lonely little castls there was joy ; for the
girl was saved, barely, with fever, with delirium, with long
prostration, but saved !

AVhen weeks had passed, and she was in her low chair again,
propped with cushions, pallid as a snow-drop, weak and lan-
guid, but still there, she told her story, simply and without
comprehension of its meaning.

* I could not rest that night,' she said, * I know not why }
so I dressed softly and slipped past Orange asleep on her mat-
tress by my door, and found you both gone, — you, father, and
you, Jarvis. You never go out at night, and it was very cold ;
and Jarvis had taken his bag and knapsack, and all the little
things I know so well. His gun was gone from the wall, his
clothes from his empty room, and that picture of the girl hold-
ing up the fruit was not on his table. From that I knew that
something had happened ; for it is dear to Jarvis, that picture
of the girl,' said Silver with a little quiver in her voice. With
a quick gesture Waring drew the picture from his pocket and
threw it into the fire ; it blazed, and was gone in a moment.
* Then I went after you,' said Silver with a little look of grati-
tude. I know the passage thi'ough the south channels, and
something told me you had gone that way. It was very cold.'

34 CASTLE NOWHERE.

That was all, no reasoning, no excuse, no embaiTassmentj
the flight of the little sea-bird straight to its mate.

Life flowed on again in the old channel, Fog quiet, Silver
happy, and Waring in a sort of dream. Winter was full upon
them, and the castle beleagured with his white armies both
below and above, on the water and in the air. The two men
went ashore on the ice now, and trapped and hunted dail^, the
dogs following. Fagots were cnt and rough roads made through
the forest. One would have supix)sed they were planning for
a lifelong residence, the young man and the old, as they came
and went together, now on the snow-crust, now plungin

through breast-deep into the light dry mass. One day Waring
said, * Let me see your reckoning. Do ypu know that to-mor-
row will be Christmas X

* Silver knows nothing of Christmas,* said Fog, roughly.
' Then she shall know,' replied Waring.

Away he went to the woods and brought back evergreen.
In the night he decked the cabin-like rooui, and with iutinite
pains constructed a little Christmas-tree and hung it with every-
thing he could collect or contrive.

* It is but a poor thing, after all,' he said, gloomily, as he
stood alone surveying his work. It was indeed a shabby little
tree, only ir<leemed from ugliness by a white cross poised on
the gi'een summit j this cross glittered and shone in the fire-
light, — it was cut from solid ice.

* Perhaps I can help you,* said old Fog's voice behind. * I
did not show you this, for fear it would anger you, but — but
there must have been a child on board after all.* He held a
little box of toys, carefully packed as if b j a mother's hand,
— common toys, for she was aly the captain's wife, and the

.chooner a small one ; the little waif had floated ashore by
itself, and Fog had seen and hidden it.

Waring said nothing, and the two men began to tie on the
toys in silence. But after a while they warmed to their work
and grew eager to make it beautiful ; the old red ribbon that
Orange had given was considered a precious treasure-trove,
and, cut into fragments, it gayly held the little wooden toys in
place on the green boughs.

Fog, grown emulous, rifled the cupboards and found small
cakes baked by the pi-actised ,hand of the old cook j these he
hung exultingly on the higher boughs. And now the little

CASTLE NOWHERE.

tree wtiH full, and stood bmvely in itB pUice at tbo far end of
the long room, while the white crosa looked down on the toys
of the drowned child and the rihhon of the slave, and seemed
to sanctify them for their new use.

Great waft the surprise of Silver the next morning, and many
the questions she asked. Out in the M'orld, they told her, it
was so ; trees like that were decked for children.

* Am I a child f said Silvei", thoughtfully ; * what do you
think, papa V

'What do you think ]' said Waring, turning *i" [uestion.

* I hardly know ; sometimes I think I am, and sometimes
not ; but it is of no consequence what I am as long as I bave
you, — you and papa. Tell me more about the little tree. Jar-
vis. What does it mean 1 What is that white shining toy on
the top ] Is there a story about it V

' Yes, there is a story ; but — but it is not I who should *ell
it to you,' replied the young man, after a moment's hesitation.

* Why not ! Whom have I in all the v.-orld to tell me, save
you Y said fondly the sweet child- voice.

They did not take away the little Christmas-tree, but left it
on its pedestal at the far end of the long room through the
winter ; and as the cross melted slowly, a new one took its
place, and shone aloft in the firelight. But its story was not
told.

February came, and with it a February thaw ; the ice stirred
a Utile, and the breeze coming over the floes was singularly
mild. The arctic winds and the airs from the Gulf Stream had
met and mingled, and the gi'ay fog appeared again, waving to
and fro. * Spring has come,' said Silver ; * there is the dear fog.'
And she opened the window of the flower room, and let out a
little bird.

' It will find no resting-place for the sole of its foot, for the
snow is over the face of the whole earth,' said Waring. * Our
ark has kept us cosily through bitter weather, has it not, little
onel' (He had adopted a way of calling her so.)

' Ark,' said Silver ; * what is that f

' Well,' answered Waring, looking down into her blue eyes
as they stood together at the little window, ' it was a watery
residence like this ; and if Japheth, — he was always my favor-
ite of the three— had had you there, my opinion is that he

CASTLE NOWHERE.

would never have come down at aU, but woi:ld have resided
fiermanentlj on Ararat*

Silver looked up into his face with a smile, not understand-
ing what he said, nor asking to understand ; it was enough for
her that he was there. And as she gazed her violet eyes strew
so deep, so soft, that the man for once (give him credit, it was
the first time) took her into his arms. * Silver,' he whispered,
bending over her, * do you love me V

* Yes,' she answered in her simple, unconscious way, * you
know I do, Jar via.' '

No color deepened in her fair face under his ardent gaze ;
and, after a moment, he released her, almost roughly. The
next day he told old Fog that he was going.

' Where.'

* Somewhere, this time. I've had enough of Nowhere.'
' Why do you go X

* Do you want the plain truth, old man ? Here it is, then ; I
am growing too fond of that girl, — a little more and I shall not
be able tc leave her.'

* Then stay ; she loves you.'

* A child's love.'

* She will develop — '

* Not into my wife if I know myself,' said Waring, curtly.
Old Fog sat silent a moment. * Is she not lovely and good V

he said in a low voice.

' She is ; but she is your daughter as well.'
' She is not.'

* She is not ! What then ?'

* I — I do not know ; I found her, a baby, by the wayside.'

* A foundling ! So much the better, that is even a step
lower,' said the younger man, laughing roughly. And the
other crept away as thctigh he had been struck.

Waring set about his preparations. This time Silver did not
suspect his purpose. She had passed out of the quick, intuitive
watchfulness of childliood. During these days she had taken
up the habit of sitting by herself in the flower-room, ostensibly
her book or sewinar ; but when tliey glanced in through

with

*0 5

the open door, her hands were lying idle on her lap and her
eyes fixed dreamily on some opening blossom. Hours she sat
thus, without stirring.

Waring's plan was a wild one ; no boat could sail through

CASTLE NOWHERE.

the ice, no foot could cross the wide rifts made by the thaw,
and weeks of the bitterest weather still lay between them and
the spring. * Along-shore,' he said.

' And die of cold and hunger,' answered Fog.

*01d man, why are you not afraid of meV said Waring,
pausing in his work with a lowering glance. 'Am I not
stronger than you, and the master, if I so choose, of your castle
of logs]'

' But you will not so choose.'

* Do not trust me too fai*.'

' I do not trust you, — but God.'

* For a wrecker and murderer, you have, I must say, a re-
markably serene conscience,' sneered Waring.

Again the old man shrank, and crept silently away.

But when in the early daT.Ti a dark figure stood on the ice
adjusting its knapsack, a second figure stole down the ladder.
' Will you go, then,' it said, ' and leave the chil'l ]'

* She is no child,' answered the younger man, sternly ; * and
you know it.*

' To me she is.'

* I care not what she is to you ; but she shall not be more to
me.'

' More to you V

* No more than &,ny other pretty piece of wax-work,* replied
Waring, striding away into the gray mist.

Silver came to breakfast radiant, her small head covered
from forehead to throat with the winding braids of gold, her
eyes bright, her cheeks faintly tinged with the icy water of her
bath. * Where is Jarvis V she asked.

* Gone hunting,' replied old Fog.

* For all day r

* Yes ; and perhaps for all night. The weather is quite mild,
you know.'

* Yes, papa. But I hope it will soon be cold again ; he can-
not stay out long then,' said the girl, gazing out over the ice
with wistful eyes.

The danger was over for that day ; but the next morning
there it v/as again, and with it the bitter cold.

*Ke must come home soon now,' said Silver, confidently,
melting the frost on one of the little windows so that she could
see out and watch for his coming. But he came not. As night

CASTLE NOWHERE.

fell the cold grew intense ; deadly, clear, and still, with the
stars shining brilliantly in the steel-blue of the sky. Silver
wandered from window to window, wrapped in her fur mantle ;
a hundred times, a thousand times she had scanned the ice-fields
and the snow, the lake and the shore. When the night closed
down, she crept close to the old man who sat by the fire in $.-
lence, pretending to mend his nets, but furtively watching her
every movement. ' Papa,' she whispered, ' where is h6, where
is he V And her tears fell on his hands.

' Silver,' he said, bending over her tenderly, ' do I not love
you 1 Am I not enough for you ? Think, dear, how long we
have lived here and how happy we have been. He was only a
stranger. Come, let us forget him, and go back to the old days.'

* What ! Has he gone, then ? Has Jarvis gone V
Springing to her feet she confronted him with clinched hands

;ind dilated eyes." Of all the words she h.< ^ eard but one ; he
had gone ! The poor old man tried to draw her down again-
■nto the shelter of his arms, but she seemed turned to stone,
her slender form was rigid. ' Wliere is he? * Where is Jarvis?
What have you done with him, — you, you !'

The quick unconscious accusation struck to his heart. ' Child,*
lie said in a broken voice, ' I tried to keep him. I would have
given him my place in your love, in your life, but he would
Slot. He has gone, he cares not for you ; he is a hard, evil
man.'

* He is not ! But even if he were, I love him,' said the girl,
defiantly.

Then she threw up her arms towards heaven (alas ! it was no
heaven to hei-, poor child) as if in appeal. ' Is ^r > no one to
help me V she cried- aloud.

'^ What can we do, dear?' said the old man, stan^rn beside
her and smoothing her haii- gently. ' He woidd not (iiay, — I
.;ould not keep him !'

* / could have kept him.' •
'You would not a.sk him to stay, if he wished to ^jV i. .
'Yes, I would ; he must stay, for my sake.'

* But if he had loved you, dear, he would not have gone.'

* Did he say he did hot love me ?' demanded Silver, with
.gleaming eyes.

Old FojZ hesitated.

CASTLE NOWHERE.

* Did he say he did not love me 1 Did Jarvis say that V she
repeated, seizing his arm with grasp of ^fire.

* Yes ; he said that.' '
But the lie meant to rouse her pride, killed it ; as if struck

by a visible hand, she swayed and fell to the floor.

The miserable old man watched her all the night. She was
delirious, and raved of Waring through the long houra. At
daylight he left her with Orange, who, not understanding these
white men's riddles, and sorely perplexed by Waring's deser-
tion, yet cherished her darling with dumb untiring devotion,
and watched her every breath.

Following the solitary trail over the snow-covered ice and
thence along-shore towards the east journeyed old Fog all dflv
in the teeth of the wind, dragging a sledge loaded with fnra,
provisions, and dry wood ; the sharp blast cut him like a knife,
and the dry snow-pellets stung as they touched his face, and
clung to his thin beard coated with ice. It was the woi-st day
of the winter, an evil, desolate, piercing day ; no human crea-
ture should dare such weather. Yet the old man journeyed
patiently on until nightfall, and would have gone farther had
not darkness concealed the track ; his fear was that new snow
might fall deeply enough to hide it, and then there was no
more hope of following. But nothing could be done at night,
so he made his camp, a lodge under a drift with the snow for
walls and roof, and a hot fire that harely melted the edges of
its icy hearth. As the blaze flared out into the darkness, he
heard a cry, and followed ; it was faint, but apparently not
distant, and after some search he found the spot ; there lay
Jarvis Waring, helpless and n*^arly frozen. * I thought you
farther on,' he said, as he lifted the heavy, inert body.

* I fell and injured my knee yesterday ; since then I have
been freezing slowly,' replied Waring in a muffled voice. * I
have been crawling backwards and forwards all day to keep
myself alive, but had just given it up when T saw your light.*

All night the old hands worked over him, and they hated
the body they touched ; almost fiercely they fed and nourished
it, wanned its blood, and brought back life. In the dawning
Waring was himself again ; weak, helpless, but in his light
mind. He said as much, and added, with a touch of his old
humor, * There is a wrong luind you know, old gentleman *

The bther made no rejjly ; hiei task done, he sat by the fire

CASTLE NOWHEKE.

waiting. He had gone after this fellow, driven by faie ; he
had saved him, driven by fate. Now what had fate next in
Btore? He warmed his wrinkled hands mechanically and
■waited, while the thought came to him with bitternesij that
his darling's life lay at the mercy of this man who had nothing
better to do, on coming back from the very jaws of death, than
make jests. But old Fog was mistaken ; the man had some-
thing better to do, and did it. Perhaps he noted the expres-
sion of the face before him ; perhaps he did not, but was think-
ing, young-man fashion, only of himself; at any rate this is
what he said : ' I was a fool to go. Help me back, old man ;
it IS too strong for me, — I give it up.'

* Back, — back where X said the other, apathetically.

Waring raised his head from his pillow of furs. * Way do
you ask when you know already ! Back to Silver, of courae ;
have you lost your mind ]'

His harshness came from within ; in reality it was meant for
himself ; the avowal had cost him something as it passed his
lij^s in the form of words ; it had not seemed so when in the
Buffering, and the cold, and the approach of death, he had seen
his own soul face to face and realized the truth.

So the two went back to the castle, the saved lying on the
sledge, the savior drawing it ; the wind was behind them now,
and blew them along. And when the old man, weary and
numb with cold, reached the ladder at last, helped Waring,
lame and irritable, up to the little snow-covered balcony, and
Ld the way to Silver's room, — when Silver, hearing the step,
raised herself in the arms of the old slave and looked eagerly,
not at him, no, but at the man behind, — did he shrink ? He
did not ; but led the reluctant, vanquished, defiant, half-angiy,
half-shamed lover forward, and gave his darling into the arms
that seemed again almost unwilling, so strong was the old op-
posing determination that lay bound by love's bonds.

Silver regained her life as if by magic ; not so Waring, who
lay suffering and irritable on the lounge in the long room,
while the girl tended him with a joy that shone out in every
word, every tone, every motion. She saw not his little tjTan-
nies, his exacting demands, his surly tempers ; or rather she
saw and loved them as women do when men lie ill and help-
less in their h>.nds. And old Fog sat apart, or came and went
unnoticed ; hours of the cold days he wandered through the

CASTLE NOWHERE.

forests, visiting the traps mechanically, and making tasks for
himself to till up the time ; hours of the cold evenings he paced
the snow-covered roof alone. He could not bear to see them,
but left the post to ^ range, whose black face shone with joy
and satisfaction over Waiing's returr.

But after a time iate swung around (as she generally does if
impatient humanity would but give her a chance). Waring's
health grew, and so did his love. He had been like a strong
man armed, keeping his palace ; but a stronger than he was
come, and, the combat over, he went as far the other way and
adored the very sandals of the conqueror. The gates were
open, and all the floods were out.

And Silver 1 As he advanced, she withdrew. (It is always
BO in love, up to a certain point ; and beyond that point lies,
alas ! the broad monotonous country of commonplace.)

This impetuous, ardent lover was not the Jarvis she had
known, the Jarvis who had been her master, and a despotic
one at that. Frightened, shy, bewildered, she fled away Lxtm.
Ildl her dearest joys, and stayed by herself in the flower-room
with the bar across the door, only emerging timidly at meal-
times and stealing into the long room like a little wraith ; a
rosy wraith now, for at last she had learned to blush. Waring
was angry at this desertion, but only the more in love ; for
the violet eyes veiled themselves under his gaze, and the
unconscious child-mouth began to try to control and conceal its
changing expressions, and only suceeeded in betraying them
more helplessly than ever. Poor little solitary maiden-heart !

Spring was near now ; soft airs came over the ice daily, and
stirred the water beneath ; then the old man*spoke. He knew
what was coming, he saw it all, and a sword was piercing his
heart ; but bravely he played his part. * The ice will move out
soon, in a month or less you can sail safely,' he said, breaking
the silence one night when they two sat by the fire. Waring
moody and restless, for Silver had openly repulsed him, and fled
away early in the evening. * She is trifling with me,' he
thought, * or else she does not know v/hat love is. By heavens,
I will teach her though — ' As far as this his mind had journey-
ed when Fog spoko * In a month you can sail safely, and I
suppose you will go for good this time V

* Yes.'

Fog Waited. Waring kicked a fallen log into place, lit his

wmmm

CASTLE NOWHERE.

pipe then let it go out. moved his chaii- forward, then pushed
it back impatiently, and finally spoka * Of course I shall take
Silver ; I intend to make Silver.'

' At last r

' At last. No wonder you are glad — ' ,

' Glad,' said Fog, — ' glad !' But the woi^s were whispered,
and the young man went on unheeding.

' Of course ii; is a great thing for you to have the child off
your hands and placed in a home so high above your exjiecta-
tions. Love is a strange power. I do not deny that I have
fought against it, but — but why should I conceal ? I love Silver
with all my soul, she seems to have grown into my very be-
ing.'

* It was frankly and strongly uttered ; the good side of
Jarvis Waring came uppermost for the moment.

Old Fog leaned forward and grasped his hand. * I know
you do,' he said. * I know something of men, and I have
watched you closely. Waring. It is for this love that I forgive
— I mean that I am glad and thanktul for it, very thank-
ful.'

* And you have reason to be,' said the younger man, with-
drawing into his pride again* * As my wife, Silver will have
a home, a circle of friends, which — But you could not under-
stand ; let It pass. And now, tell me all you know of her.'

The tone was a command, and the speaker leaned bacK in
his chair with the air of an owner as he reUghted his pipe.

But Fog did not shrink. * Will you have the whole story f
he asked humbly.

' As well now as ever, I suppose, but be as brief as possible,*
said the young man in a lordly manner. Had he not just con-
ferred an enormous favor, an alliance which might be called
the gift of a prince, on this dull old backwoodsman ]

* Forty years ago or thereabouts,' began Fog in a low voice,
'a crime was comitted in New York City. I shall not tell
you what it was, there is no need ; enough that the whole
East was stirred, and a heavy reward was offered for the man
who did the deed. I am that man.'

Waring pushed back his chair, a horror came over him, his
hand sought for his pistol ; but the voice went en unmoved. "
* Shall I excuse the deed to you, boy ? No, I will not. It was
done and I did it, that is enough, the daimning fact that ton-

CASTLE NOWHERE.

fronts and sitences all talk of motive or cause. This much
only will I say ; to the passion of the act deliberate intention
was not added, and there was no gain for the doer ; only loss,
the black eternal loss of everything in heaven above, on the
earth beneath, or in the waters that are under the earth, for
liell itself seemed to spew me out. At least so I thought as I
fled away, the mark of Cain upon my brow ; the horror was
so strong upon me that 1 could not kill myself, I feared to join
the dead. I went to and fro on the earth, and walked up and
down in it ; I fled to the uttermost parts of the sea, and yet
came back again, moved by a strange impulse to be near the
scene of my crime. After years had passe \ and with them the
memory of the deed from the minds of others, though not from
mine, I crept to the old house where my one sister was living
alone, and made myself known to her. She left her home, &
forlorn place, but still a home, and followed me with a sort of
dumb affection, — poor old woman. She was my senior by fif-
teen years, and I had' been her pride ; and so she went with
me from the old instinct, which still remained, although the
pride was dead, crushed by slow horror. We kept together
after that, two poor hunted creatures instead of one ; we were
always fleeing, always imagining that eyes knew us, that fin-
gers pointed us out. I called her Shadow, and together we
took the name of Fog, a common enough name, but to us mean-
ing that we were nothing, creatures of the mist, wandering to
and fro by night, but in the morning gone. At last one day
the cloud over my mind seemed to lighten a little, and the
thought came to me that no punishment can endure forever,
without impugning the justice of our great Creator. A crime
is committed, perhaps in a moment ; the ensuing suffering, the
results, linger on earth, it may be for some years ; but the end
of it surely comes sooner or later, and it is as though it had
nrver been. Then, for that crime, shall a soul suffer forever,
— not a thousand years, a thousand ages if you like, but for-
ever 1 Out upon the monstrous idea ! Let a man do evil every
moment of his life, and let his life be the full threescor-i years
and ten ; shall there not come a period in the endless ev<^les of
eternity when even his punishment shall end 1 Wliat kind of a
God is he whom your theologians have held up to u^, — a G3d
who creates us at his pleasure, without asking whether oi- not
we wish to be created, who endows us with certain wild pas-

CASTLE NOWHEKE.

sious and capacities for evil, turns us loose into a world of suf-
fering, and then, lor our misdeeds there, our whole lives being
less than one instant's time in his sight, punishes us forever !
Never-ending tortures throughout the countless ages of eternity
for the little crimes of threescore yttarf> and ten ! Heathendom
shows no god so monstrous as this. O great Creator, O Father
of our souls, of all the ills done on the face of thy eaiiih, this
lie against thy justice and thy goodness, is it not the greatest ?
The thought came to me, as I said, that no punishment could
endure forever, that somewhere in the future I, even I, should
meet pardon and rest. That day I found by the wayside a
little child, scarcely more than a baby ; it had wandered out of
the poorhouse, where its mother had died the week before, a
stranger passing through the village. No one knew anything
about her nor cared to know, for she was almost in rags, fair
and delicate once they told me, but wasted with illness and too
far gone to talk. Then a second thought came to me, — expia-
tion. I would take this forlorn little creature and bring her
up as my own child, tenderly, carefully, — ^a life for a life. My
poor old sister took to it wonderfully, it seemed to brighten
her desolation into something that was almost happiness ; we
wandered awhile longer, and then came westward through the
lakes, but it was several years before we were fairly settled
here. Shadow took care of the baby and made her little dresses ;
then, when the time came to teach her to sew and read, she
said more help was needed, and went alone co the towns below
to find a fit servant, coming back in her silent way with old
Orange, another stray lost out of its place in the world, and
Bufiering from want in the cold Northern city. You must not
think that Silver is totally ignorant ; Shadow had the education
of her day, poor thing, for oui"s was a good old family as old
families go in this new country of ours, where tliree gen-
erations of well-to-do people constitute aristocracy. But reli-
gion, so called, I have not taught hei-. Is she any the worse
for its want V

' I will teach her,' said Waiing, passing over the question
(which was a puzzling one), for the new idea, the strange inter-
est he felt in the task before him, the fair pure mind where
his hand, and his alone, would be the first to write the story of
good and evil.

' That I should become attached to the child was. natural,'

CASTLE NOWHERE.

continued old Fog ; ' but God gave it to me to love her with
so great a love that my days have flown ; for her to sail out
over the stormy water, for her to hunt through the icy woods,
for her to dare a thousand deaths, to labor, to save, to suffer,
— these have been my pleasures through all the ye^^rs. When
I came home, there she was to meet me, her sweet voice calling
me father, the only father she could ever know. When my
poor old sister died, I took her away in my boat by night and
buried her in deep water ; and so I did with the boy we had
here for a year or two, saved from a wreck. My darling knows
nothing of death ; I could not tell her.'

* And those wrecks,' said Waring ; ' how do you make them
balance with your scheme of expiation V

The old man sat silent a moment ; then he brought his hand
down violently on the table by his side. * I will not have them
brought up in that way, I tell you I will not ! Have I not
explained that I was despei'ate V he said in an excited voice.
' What are one or two miserable crews to the delicate life of
my beautiful child 1 And the men had their chances, too, in
sirite of my lure. Does not every storm threaten them with
deathly force 1 Wait until you are tempted, before you judge
me, boy. But shall I tell you the whole? Listen, then.
Those wrecks were the gi'eatest sacri ^es, the most bitter tasks
of my hard life, the nearest approach I have yet made to the
expiation. Do you suppose I wished to drown the men ? Do
you suppose I did not know the greatness of the crime 1 Ah,
I knew 't only too well, and yet I sailed out and did the deed !
It was for her, — to keep her from suflTering ; so I sacrificed
myself unflinchingly. I would murder a thousand men in cold
blood, and bear the thousand additional punishments without
a murmur throughout a thousand ages of eternity, to keep my
darling safe and wann. Do you not see that the whole was a
self-immolation, the greatest, the most complete I could make 1
I vowed to keep my darling tenderly. I have kept my vow ;
see that you keep yours.*

The voice ceased, the story was told, and the teller gone.
The curtain over the past was never lifted again ; but often, in
aft«r yeai-s. Waring thought of this strange life and its stranger
philosophy. He could never judge them. Can wo t

The next day the talk ^turned upon Silver. 'I know you
love her,' said the old man, ' but bow much T

■mwpiNif*

CASTLE NOWHERE.

' Does it need the asking T answerea Waring with a short
laugh ; ' am I not giving up my name, my life, into her hands V
' You could not give them into hands more pure.'

* 1 know it ; I am content. And yet, I sacrifice something,'
replied the young man, thinking of his home, his family, his
friends.

Old Fog looked at him. * Do you hesitate V he said, break-
ing the pause.

' Of course I do not ; why do you ask ?' replied Waring, ir-
ritably. * But some things may be pardoned, I think, in a case
like mine.*

' I pardon them.*

* 1 can teach her, of course, and a year or so among cultivat-
ed people will work wonders ; I think I shall take her abroad,
iiist. How soon did you say we could go V

' The ico is moving. There will be vessels through the straits
in two or three weeks,' replied Fog. His voice shook. War-
ing looked up ; the old man was weeping. * Forgive me,* he
said brokenly, * but the little girl is very dear to me.'

The younger man was touched. * She sliall be as dear to me
as she has been to you,' he said ; * do not fear. My love is
proved by the very struggle I have made against it. I venture
to say no man ever fought harder against hiniKtlf than I have
in this old castle of yours. I kept that Titian picture as a
countercharm. It resembles a woman who, at a word, will
give me herself and her fortune, — a woman high in the culti-
vated circles of cities both here and abroad, beautiful, accom-
plished, a queen in her little sphere. But all was useless.
That long night in the snow, when I crawled backwards and
forwards to keep mjself from freezing, it came to me with
power that the whole of earth and all its gifts compared not
with this love. Old man, she will be happy with me.'

*I know it.'

* Did you foresee this end f asked Waring after a while^
"watching, as he spoke, the expression of the face before him.
He could not rid himself of the belief that the old man had laid
his plans deftly.

* 1 could only hope for it : I saw that she loved you.'

* Well, well,' said the younger man magnanimously, ' it was na-
tural, after all. Your expiation h^s ended better than you
hoped ; for the little orphan child you have reared has found a-

.i^

CASTLE NOWHERE.

home find friends, and you yoni'self need work no more. Choose
your abode here or anywhere else in the West, and I will see
that you are comfoi-table.'

* I will stay on here.'

' As you please. Silver will not. forget you ; she will write
often. I think I will go fii-st up the Rhine and then into Swit-
zerland,* continued Waring, going back to himself and his plans
with the matter-of-course egotism of youth and love. And old
Fog listened.

What need to picture the love-scene that followed 1 The
next morning a strong hand knocked at the door of the iiower*
room, and the shy little maiden within had her lirst lesson in
love, or rather in its expression, while all the blossoms listened
and the birds looked on approvingly. To do him justice, War-
ing was an humble suitor when alone with her ; she was so
fair, so pure, so utterly ignorant of the world and of life, thaw
he felt himself unworthy, and bowed his head. But the mood
passed, and Silver liked him better when the old self-assertion
and quick tone of command came uppermost again. She knew
not good from evil, she could not analyze the feeling in her
heart ; but she loved this stranger, this master, with the whole
of her being. Jarvis Waring knew good from evil (more of
the latter knew he than of the former), he comprehended and
analyzed fully the feeling that possessed him ; but, man of the
world as he was, he loved this little water-maiden, this fair
pagan, this strange isolated girl, with the whole force of his
nature. * Silver,' he said to her, seriously enough, * do you
know how much I love you ? I am afraid to think what life
would seem without you.'

* Why think of it, then, since I am here ?' replied Silver.

* Do you know, Jarvis, I think if I had not loved you so
much, you would not have loved me, and then — it would have
been — that is, I mean — it would have been different — ' She
paused ; unused to reasoning or to anything like argument, her
owii words seemed to bewilder her.

Waring laughed, but soon grew serious again. * Silver,* he
Baid, taking her into his arms, * are you sure that you can ^ove
ine as I crave V (For he seemed at times tormented by the
doubt as to whether she was anything more than a beautiful
child.) He held her closely and would not let her go, compel-
ling her to meet his ardent eyes. A change came over the

CASTLE NOWHERE.

girl, a sudden red flashed up into her temples and down into
her white throat. She drew herself impetuously away from
her lover's arms and fled from the room. * I am not sure but
that she is a water-aprite, after all,' grumbled Waring, as he
followed her. But it was a pleasure norv to grumble and pie-
tend to doubt, since from that moment he was sure.
The next morning Fog seemed unusually cheerful.

* No wonder,' thought Waring. But the character of bene-
factor pleased him, and he appeared in it constantly. «

' We must have the old castle more comfortable ; I ^ill try
to send up some fimiiture from below,' '^e remarked, while
pacing to and fro in the evening.

' Is n't it comfortable now V said Silver. * I am sure I alwayg
thought this room beautiful.'

* What, this clumsv imitation of a second-class Western stea-
mer ? Child, it is hideous !'

* Is it V said Silver, looking around in innocent surprise,
while Fog listened in silence. Hours of patient labor and risks
not a few over the stormy lake were associated Avith each one
of the articles Waring so cavalierly com' \ned.

Then it was, ' How you do look, o' ntleman ! I must
really send you up some new clothes. — oiiver, how have you
been able to endure siich shabby rags so long V

* I do not know, — I never noticed ; it was always just papa,
you know,' replied Silver, her blue eyes lesting on the old man's
clothes with a new and perplexed attention.

But Fog bore himself cheerily. ' He is right. Silver,' he said,
*'I am shabby indeed. But when you go out into the world,
you will soon forget it.'

' Yes,' said Silver, tranquilly.

The days flew by and the ice moved out. This is the phrase
that is always used aloa the lakes. The ice ' moves out' of
.every harbor from Ogdensburg to Dulutli. You can see the
gi'eat white floes drift away into the horizon, and the question
comes, Where do they go 1 Do they meet out there ihe coun-
ter floes from the Canada side, and then do they all join hands
and sink at a given signal to the bottom ? Cei-tainly, there is
nothing melting in the mood of the raw spring winds and cloud-
ed skies.

^ What are your plans V asked old Fog, abniptly, one morn-

CASTLE NOWHERE.

In-

ing when the giillH had flown out to sea, and the fog came steal-
ing up fi-om the south.

' For what V

' For the marriage.'

* Aha !* thought Waring, with a smile of covert amusement,
* he is in a hurry to secure the prize, is he ] The sharp old
fellow r Aloud he said, ' I thought we would all three sail
over to Mackinac ; and there we could be manied, Silver and
I, by the fort chaplain, and take the first Buffalo steamer ; yoij
could return here at your leisure.*

* Would it not be a better plan to bring a clergyman here,
and then you two could sail without me ? I am not as strong
as I was ; I feel that I cannot bear — I mean that you had
better go without me.'

* As you please ', I thought it would be a c4iange for you, that
was all,* : ! ' ! ;

* It would only prolong — No, I think, if you are willing,
we will have the mamage here, and then you can sail immedi-
ately.'^

' Very a' 11 ; but I did not suppose you would be in such
liaste to p it with Silver,' said Waring, imable to resist show-
ing his comprehension of what he considered the manoeuvres of
the old man. Then, waiving further discussion, — * And where
ahall we find a clergyman V he asked.

* There is one over on Beaver.'

* He must be a singular sort of a divine to be living there.

* He is ; a strayed spirit, as it were, but a genuine
clergyman of the Presbyterian church, none the less. I never
knew exactly what he represent-vi there, but I think he camt
out originally a sort of missionary.'

* To the Mormons,' said Waring, laughing ; for he had heard
old Fog tell many a story of the Latter-Day Saints, who had
on Beaver Island at that time their most Eastern settlement.
'::.* No; to the Indians. — sent out by some of those New Eng-
land societies, you know. When he reached the islands, he
found the Indians mostly gone, and those who remained
were all Roman Catholics. But he settled down, farmed a little
hunted a little, fished a little, and held a service all by himsdf
occasionally in an old log-house, just often enough to dmw his
salary and to write u}» in his semiannual reports. '^~ "'" '~*^ "
bad sort of a man in his way.'

He is n't a

CASTLE NOWHERE.

' And how does lie geit on with the Mormons f

* Excellently. He Trts fchern talk, and sells theui fidb, and
shuts his eyes to everything else.'

* What is his name V '

* AVell, ovei" there they call him the Preacher, piincipally be-
cause he doe« not preach, I suppose. It is a way thay have
Over on Beaver to call people names ; they Gd,lll me Believer.

* Believct V

* Yes, because I believe nothing ; at least so tlie^
think.'

A few days later, otit they sailed over tibe fr^d water,
around the point, through the sedge-gate growing green again,
across the channelled marsh, and out towards the Beavers, —
Fog and Waring, armed as if for a foray.

* Why,* asked Wariilg,

* It's safer ; the Mormons are a queer lot,' was the reply.
Whe.i they eame in sight of the islands, the yoonger man

scanned them curiously. Some years lat«r an expedition com-
posed uf exasperated crews Oi lake schooners, exasjierated fififti-
£rmeu, exasperated mainland settlers, sailed westward througa
the straits bound for these islands, artr.ed to the teeth and deter-
mined upon vengeance and slaughter. False lights, stolen
nets, and stolen wives were their grie vanoeB ; and no aid coming
from the general governmei*t, then as now sorely perplexed
over the Mormon problem, they took justice into their own
hands itnd sailed bravely out, with the stars and stripes float-
ing from the mast of their flag-ship, — ' «%n old scow impressed
for military service. But this was later ; and when Fog and
Wai-ing came sctidding into the harbor, the wild little village
existed in all its pristine outlawry, a city of refuge for the flot-
sam vagabondage of the lower lakes.

* Perhaps he will n(^ come with us,' suggested Waring.

* 1 have thought of that, but it need not delay us long,' re-
plied Fog; * we can kidnap him.'

* Kidnap him V '

' Yes ] he is but a small chap,' said the old man, tranquilly.

They fastened their boat to the log-dock, and stai-ted ashore.
The houses of the settlement straggled irregularly along the
beach and inland towards the fields where fine crops were raised
by the Saints, who had mad© hei*e, as is their custom every-
vf here, a garden in the wilderness ; the only defence was sim-

I '=^

OAStLE NOWHEBE.

pie but strong, — an earthwork on one of the white sand-hill i
back of the village, over whose lampart peeped two small am
non, commanding the harbor. Once on shore, however, a foe
found only a living rampait of flesh and blood, as reckless a set
of villains as New World histoiy can produce. But this mm-
part only came together in times of danger ; ordinary visitors,
coming by twos and threes, they welcomed ov murdered as they
saw tit, or according to the probable contents of theii' pockets,
each man for himself and his family. Some of these patiiarchal
gentlemen glai-ed from their windows at Fog and Waiing as
they passed along ; but the worn clothes not pi-omiaiug much ,
they simply invited them to diimer ; they liked to hear tht^
news, when there was nothing else going on. Old Fog excused
himself. They had business, he said, with the Preacher ; was
he at home ?

He was; had anything been sent to him ft*om the East,
— ^any clothes, now, for the Indians 1

Old Fog had heard something of a box at Mackinac, waiting
for a schooner to bring it over. He was glad it was on the
way, it would be of so much use to the Indians, — they wore so
many clothes

The patriarchs grinned, and allowed the two to pass on.
Waring had gazed within, meanwhUe, and discovered the plural
wives, more or less good-looking, generally less ; they tlid not
seem unhappy, however, not so much as many a single one
he had met in more luxurious homes, and he said to hi;us«4t',
' Women of the lowe'- class are much better and happier when
well curbed.' It di.. not occur to him that possibly the evil
tempers of men of the lower class are made more endurable by
» system of ctnoj^ei'ation ; one reed bends, breaks, and dies, but
ten reeds together can endure.

Tlie Preacher was at home on the outskirts, — a little man,
round and rosy, with black eyes and a cheery voice. He was
attired entirely in blanket-cloth, baggy trousers and a long
blouse, so that he looked not unlike a Turkish Santa Claus,
Oriental as tt) under, and arctic as to upper rigging. ' Are yoii
a clergyman f said Waring, inspecting him with curious eyes.

' If you doubt it, look at this,' isaid the little man ; and h«
brought out a clerical suit of limp black cloth, and a ministerial
hat much the worse for wear. These articles he suspended from
a nail, so that they looked as if a very i)oor lean divine had

mimmmmmimmmf^^^mim

CASTLE NOWHERE.

himghimself there. Then he sat down, and took his turn at staring.
* I (I not bury the dead,' he remarked after a moment, as if
coi inced thai the two shabby hunters before him could have
no other errand.

Waring was &bout to explain, but old Fog stopped him with
a glance. * You are to come with us, sir,' he said courteousty ;
*you will be well treated, well paid, and returned in a few
days.'

* Come with you ! Where ?' '

* Never mind where ; will you come 1'

* No,' said the little blanket-man, stoutly.

In ah instant Fog had tripped him up, seized a sheet and
blanket from the bed, boimd his hands and feet with one, and
wrapped him in the other. * Now, then,' he said shouldering
the load, * open the door.'

* But the Mormons,' objected Waring.

* 0, they like a joke, they will only laugh ! But if, by any
chance, they show fight, fire at once,' replied the old man, lead-
ing the way. Waring followed, his mind anything but easy ;
it seemed to him like running the gantlet. He held his pistols
ready, and glanced furtively around as they skirted the town
and turned down towards the beach. * If any noise is made,*
Fog had remarked, ' I shall know what to do.'

Whereupon the captive swallowed down his wrath and a
good deal of woollen fuzz, and kept silence. He was no coward,
this little Preacher. He held his own manfully on the Bea-
vers ; but no one had ever carried him off in a blanket before.
So he silently considered the situation.

When near the boat they came upon more patriarchs. * Put
a bold face on it,' murmured old Fog. * Whom do you suppose
we have here V he began, as they approached. * Nothing less
than your little Preacher ; we want to borrow him for a few
days.'

The patriarchs stai'ed.

* Don't you believe it 1 — Speak up. Preacher ; are you being
carried off?*

No answer.

* You had better speak,' said Fog, jocosely, at the same time
giving his captive a warning touch with his elbow.

The Preacher had revolved the situation rapidly, and per-
ceived that in any contest his round body would inevitably suf-

^'t

CASTLE NOWHERE.

sr-
if-

fer from Mend and foe alike. He was not even sure but that
he would be used as a missile, a sort of ponderous pillow swung
at one end. So he replied briskly, * Yes, I am being carried
as you see, dear brethren ; I don't care about walking to-day,'
The patriarchs laughed, and followed on to the boat, laiigh-
ing still more when Fog gayly tossed in his load of blanket,
and they could hear the little man growl as he came down.

* I pay, though, when are you going to bring him back, Belie-
yer T said one.

* In a few days,' replied Fog, setting saiL

Away they flew ; and, when out of harbor, the captive was
released, and Waiing told him what was required.

* Why did n't you say so before X said the little blanket-man ;

* nothing I like better than a wedding, and a ii.op of punch
afterwards.'

His task over, Fog relapsed into silence ; but Waring, curi-
ous, asked many a question about the island and its inhabit-
ante. The Preacher responded treely in all things, save when
the talk glided too near himself The Mormons were not so
bad, he thought ; they had their faults, of course, but you must
take them on the right side.

* Have they a right side 1' asked Waring.

* At least they have n't a rasping, mean, cold, starving, bony,
freezing, bus^ -bodying side,' was the reply, delivered energeti-
cally ; whereat Waring concluded the little man had had his
own page of history back somewhere among the decorous New
England hills.

Before they came to the marsh they blindfolded their guestj
and did not remove the bandage until he was sefely within the
long room of the castle. Silver met them, i-adiant in the fire-
Ught.

* Heavien grant you its blessing, maiden,' said the Preacher,
becoming Biblical at once. He meant it, however, for he sat
gazing at her long with moistened eyes, forgetful even of the
good cheer on the table ; a gleam from his far-back youth came
to him, a snow-drop that bloomed and died in bleak New
Hampshire long, long before.

The wedding was in the early morning. Old Fog had hur-
ried it, hurried everj; thing; he seemed driven. by a spirit of
unrest, and wandered from place to place, from room to ixx)m,
his eyes fixed in a vacant way upon the familiar objects. At

•ty

CASTLE NOWHERE.

the last moment he appeared with a prayer-book, its lettering,
old, its cover tarnished. * Have you any objection to using,
the Episcopal sei-vice V he asked in a low tone. * I — I have,
heard the Epiflcopal service.'

' None in the world,' replied the affable little Preacher.

But he too grew sober and even earnest as Silver appeared^
clad in white, her dress and hair wreathed with the trailing
arbutus, the first flower of spring, plucked from uJid«r the van-
ishing snows. So beautiful her face, so heavenly ite expres--
sion, that Waring as he took her hand, felt his eyes grow dim,
and he vowed to himself to cherish *her with tenderest love for-
ever.

' We are gathei'ed together here in the sight of God,' began
the Preacher solemnly ; old Fog, standing behind, shrank into
ihe shadow, and bowed his head upon his hands. But when
the demand came,' ' Who giveth this woman to be married to
this man V he stepped forward, and gave away his ohild with-,
out a tear, nay, with even % smile on his brave old lace.

* To love, cherish, and to obey,' repeated Silver in her clear
sweet voice.

And then Waring placed upon her finger the little ring he
himself had carved out of wood. ' It shall never be changed,'
he said, * but coated over with heavy gold, just as it is.'

Old Orange, radiant with happiness, atood near, and served
as a foil for the bridal white.

It was over ; but they were not to start until noon.

Fog put tlie Preacher almost forcibly into the boat and sail-
ed away with him, blindfolded and lamenting.

* The wedding iea^t,' he cried, ' and the punch I You are »,
fine host, old gentleman,*

Everything is here, packed in those baskets. I have even
given you two fine dogs. And there is your fee. I shall take
you in sight of the Beavers, and then put you into the skiff
and leave you to xow over alone. The weather is fine, you can
I'each there to- mono w.*

Remonstrance died away before the bag of money j old Fog
had given his all for his darling's marriage-fee. * I shall have
no further wm for it,' he thought, mechanically.

So the little blanket-man paddled away in his skiff with hi*
Khare of the wedding-feast beside him j the two dogs went with
him, and became good Mormons.

' >

CASTLE NOWHERR

0-
o

Old Fog returned in the sail-boat through the channels, and
fastened the sedge-gate open for the out-going craft. Silver^
timid and happy, stood on the balcony as he approached the
castle.

* It in time to start/ said the impatient bridegroom. * How
long you have been. Fog !'

ThQ old man made no answer, but busied himself arranging
the boat; the voyage to Mackinac would, last two or three
days, and be had provided every possible comfort for their lit-
tle camps on shore.

* Come,' said Waring, from below.

Then the father went up to eay good by. Silver flung her
arms around his neck and burst into tears. ' Father, father/
she sobbed, ' must I leave you ? O father, father !'

He soothed her gently j but something in the expression of
his calm, pallid face touched the deeper feelings of the waken-
ing woman, and she clung to him despei-ately, realizing, per-
haps, at this last moment, how great was his love for her, how
great his desolation. Waring had joined them on the balcony.
He bore with her awhile and tried to calm her grief, but the
girl turned from him and dung to the old man ; it was as
though she saw at last how she aad robbed him. I cannot
leave him thus,' she sob^bed ; * O father, father !'

Then Waring struck at the I'oot of the difficulty. (Forgive
him ; he was hurt to the core.) * But he is not your father,*
he said, * he has no claim upon you. I am your husband now,
Silver, and you must come with me ; do you not wish to come
with me, darling?' he added, his voice sinking into fondness.

i' Not my father !' said the girL Her arms fell, and she stood
as if ^trified.

* No, dear ; he is right. 1 am not your father,' said old Fog,
gently. A spasm passed over his features, he kissed her hastily,
and gave her into her husband's arms. In another moment
they were afloat, in two the sail filled and the boat glided away.
The old man stood on the castle roof, smiling and waving his
hand ; below. Grange fluttered her red handkerchief from the
balcony, and blessed her darling with African mununeries.
The point was soon rounded, the boat gone.

That night, when the soft spi*ing moonlight lay over the

mi^mm

CASTLE NOWHERE.

Inrater, a sail came gliding baok to the castle, and a shape flew
up the ladder ; it was the bride of the morning.

* O father, father, I could not leave you so, I made him bring
me back, if only for a few days ! O father, father ! for jovb
are my father, the only father I can ever know, — and so kiad
and good !'

In the gloom she knelt by his bedside, and her arms were
around his neck. Waring came in afterwards, silent and annoy-
ed, yet not unkind. He stirred the dying brands into a flame.

' What is this V he said, starting, as the light fell across the
pillow.

* It is nothing,* replied Fog, and his voice sounded far awJiy ;

* I am an old man, children, and all is well.'

They watched him through the dawning, through the lovely
day, through the sunset. Waring repentant, Silver absorbed in
his every breath ; she lavished upon him now all the wealth of
love her unconscious years had gathered. Orange seemed to
agree with her master that all was welL She came and went,
but not sadly, and crooned to herself some strange African tune
that rose and fell more like a chant of triumph than a dirge.
She was doing her part, according to her light, to ease the going
of the soul out of this world.

Grayer gi'ew the worn face, fainter the voice, colder the
shrivelled old hands in the girl's fond clasp.

* Jarvis, Jarvis, what is this?* she murmured, fearfully.
Waring came to her side and put his strong arm around her.

* My little wife,* he said, * this is Death. But do not fear.'

And then he told her the story of the Cross ; and, as it came
to her a revelation, so, in the telling, it became to him, for the
first time, a belief.

Old Fog told them to bury him out in deep water, as he had
buried the others ; and then he lay placid, a great happiness
shining in his eyes.

* It is well,' he said, * and God is very good to me. Life
•would have been hard without you, darling. Something seem-
ed to give way when you said good by ; but now that I am
called, it is sweet to know that you are happy, and sweeter soil!
to think that you came back to me at the last Be kind to her,
Waring. I know you love her ; but guard her tenderly, — she
is but frail. I die content, my child, quite content ; do not
grieve for me.'

CASTLE NOWHERE.

Then, as the light faded from his eyes, he folded his hands.
' Is it expiated, O God 1 Is it expiated V he murmured.
There was no answer for him on earth.

They buried him as he had directed, and then they sailed
away, taking the old black with them. The castle was left
alone ; the flowers bloomed on through the summer, and the
rooms held the old furniture bravely through the long winter.
But gradually thetwalls fell in and the water entei^ed. The
fogs still steal across the lake, and wave theiy gray drapeiies
up into the northern curve ; bul; the sedge-gate is gone, and
the castle is indeed Nowhere.

JEANNETTf].

Before the war for the Union, in the times of the old army,
there had been peace throughout the country for thirteen years.
Regiments existed in their officers, but, the ranks were thin,
— -the more so the better, since the United States possessed few
forts and seemed in chronic embarrassment over her military
children, owing to the flying foot-ball of public opinion, now
' standing army pro,' now * standing army con,' with more or
less allusion to the much-enduring Csesar and his legions, the
ever-present ghost of the political arena.

In those days the few forts were full and nmch state was
kept up ; the officers were all graduates of West Point, and
their wives graduates of the first families. They prided them-
selves upon their antecedents ; and if there was any aristocracy
in the country, it was in the circles of army life.

Those were pleasant days, — pleasant for the old soldjers who
were resting after Mexico, — pleasant for young soldiers destin-
ed to d e on the plains of Gettysburg^ or the cloudy heights of
Lookout Mountain. There was an esprit de corps in the little
band, a, dignity of bearing, and a ceremonious state, lost in the
great struggle which came afterward. That great struggle now
lies ten years back ; yet, to-day, when the silver-haired veter-
ans meet, they pass it over as a thing of the present, and go
back to the times of the * old army.*

Up '.n the northern straits, between blue Lake Huron, with
its'clear air, and gray Lake Michigan, with its silver fogs, lies
the bold island ot Mackinac. Clustered along the beach, which
runs around its half-moon harbor, are the bouses of the old
French village, nestling at the foot of the cliff rising behind,

JEANNETTE.

crowned with the little white fort, the stars and stripes float-
ing above it against the deep blue sky. Beyond, on all sides,
the forest stretches away, cliffs finishing it abruptly, save one
slope at the far end of the island, three miles distant, where
the Biitish landed in 1812. That is the whole of Mackinac.
The island has a strange sufficiency of its own ; it satisfies ;
all who have lived there feel it. The island has a wild beaiity^
of its own ; it fascinates ; all who have lived there love it.
Among its aromatic cedars, along the aisles of its pine-ti-ees, in
the gay company of its maples, there is companionship. On
its bald northern cliffs, bathed in sunshine and swept by the
pure breeze, there is e:.liilaration. Many there are, bearing
the burden and, heat of the day, who look back to the islcrr*
with the tears that rise but do not fall, the sudden longing des-
pondency that c(HneB occasionally to all, when the tired heart
<!rie8 out, ' O, to esca})e, to flee away, far, far away, and be at
reBt !'

In 1866 Fort Mackinac held a major, a captain, three lieu-
tenants, a chaplain, and a surgeon, besides those subordinate
officers who wear stripes on their sleeves, and whose rank and
duti^ are mysteries to the uninitiated. The force for this ar-
ray of commanders was small, less than a company ; but what
it lacked in quantity it made up in quality, owing to the con-
tinual drilling it received.

The days re long at Fort Mackinac ; happy thought ! drill
the men. So when the major had finished, the captain began,
and each lieutenant was watching his chance. Much state waa
kept up also. Whenever the major appeared, * Commanding
officer ; guard, present arms,' was called down the line of men
on duty, and the guard hastened to obey, the major acknowledg-
ing the salute with stiff precision. By day and by night senti-
nels paced the walls. True, the walls were crumbling, and the
whole force was constanjtly engaged in propping them up, but
none the less did the sentinels pace with dignity. What was
it to the captain if, while ^ ^ sternly insjjeeted the muskets in
the block-house, the lieutenant, with a detail of men, was hard
at work strengthening its underpinning '? None the less did he
inspect. The sally-port, mended but imjKwing ; the flag-staff
with its fair-weather and storm flags ; the frowning iron grat-
ing ; the sidling white causeway, constantly falling down and
as constantly repaired, which led up to the main entrance ; the

JEANNETTE.

well-preserved old cannon, — all showed a strict military nile.
When the men were not drilling they were propping up the
fort and when they were not propping up the fort they were
drilling. In the early days, the days of the first American
commanded, military roads had been made through the forest,
—roads 3yen now smooth and solid, although trees of a second
growth meet overhead. But that was when the fort was young
and stood firmly on its legs. In 1856 there was no time for
road-making, for when military duty was over there was always
more or less mending to keep the whole fortification from slid-
ing down hill into the lake.

On Sunday there was service in the little chapel, an upper
room overlooking the ir.side parade-ground. Here the kindly
Episcopal chaplain read the chapters about Balaam and Balak,
and always made the same impressive pause after * Let me die
the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.*
(Dear old man ! he has gone. Would that our last end might
indeed be like liis !) Not that the chaplain confined his read-
ing to the Book of Numbers ; but as those chapters are appoint-
ed for the August Sundays, and as it was in August that the
summer visitors came to Mackinac, the little chapel is in many
minds associated with the patient Balak, his seven altars, and
his seven rams.

There was state and discipline in the fort even on Sundays ;
bugle-playing mai'shalled the congregation in, bugle-playing
marshalled them out. If the sermon was not finished, so much
the worse for the sermon, but it made no difierence to the bugle ;
at a given moment it sounded, and out marched all the soldiers,
drowning the poor chaplain's hurrying voice with their tramp
down the stairs. The officers attended service in full uniform,
sitting erect and dignified in the front seats. We used to smile
at the grand air they had, from the stately gray-haired major
down to the youngest lieutenant fre*li from the Point. But.
brave hearts were beating under those fine uniforms ; and when
the great struggle came, one and all died on the field in the
Iront of the battle. Over the grave of the commanding officer
is inscribed * Major-General,' over the captain's is * Brigadier,'
and over each young lieutenant is ' Colonel.' They gc.dined
their promotion in death.

I spent many months at Fort Mackinac with Archie ; Archie
was my nephew; a young lieutenant. In the short, bright sum-

JEANNETTE.

mer came the visitors from below ; all the world outside ia
* below' in island vernacular. In the long winter the little
white fort looked out over unbroken ice-fields, and watched for
the moving black dot of che dog-train bringing the mails from
the main land. One January day I had been out walking on
the snow-crust, breathing the cold, still air, and, returning
within the walls to our quarters, I found my little parlor already
occupied. Jeannette was there, petite Jeanneton, the fishei>
man's daughter. Strange beauty sometimes reHults from a
mixed descent, and this girl had Fi-ench, English and Indian
blood in her veins, the three races mixing and intermixing
among her ancistors, according to the custom of the North-
western border. A bold profile delicately finished, heavy blue-
black hair, light blue e} es looking out unexj)ectedly from under
black lashes and brows ; a fair white skin, neither the rose-
white of the blonde nor the cream-white of the Oriental brun- I
ette ; a rounded form with small hands and feet, showed the mix-
ed' beauties of three nationalities. Yes, there could be no doubt
but that Jeannette was singularly lovely, albeit ignorant utterly.
Her dress was as much of a melatige as her ancestiy : a short
skirt of mititary blue, Indian legginw and moccasins, a red
jacket and little red cap embroidered with t)eads. The thick
braids of her hair hung hown her back, and on the lounge lay
a large blanket-mantle lined with fox-skins and omamented
with the plumage of birds. She had come to teach me bead-
work ; I had already taken several lessons to while away the
time, but foimd myself an awkward scholar.

' Bonjou,' madarne,' she said, in her patois of broken English
and degenerate French. * Pretty here.'

My little parlor had a square of carpet, a hearth-fire of
great logs, Turkey-red curtains, a lounge and arm-chair covered
with chintz, several prints on the cracked walls, and a number
of books, — the whole well used and worn, worth perhaps twenty
dollars in any town below, but ten times twenty in icy Mack*
inac. I began the bead- work, and Jeannette was laughing at
my mistakes, when the door opened, and our surgeon came in,
pausing to warm his hands before going up to his room in the
attic. A taciturn man was our surgeon, Rodney Prescott, not
popular in the merry garrison circle, but a favorite of mine ;
the Puritan, the New-Englander, the Bostonian, were as plainly

JEAJ^NETTE.

'■(

written upon his face as the French and Indian were written
upon Jeaunette.

' Sit down, Doctor,' I said.

He took a Heat and watched us carelessly, now and then
•miling at Jeannette's chatter as a giant might smile upon a
pygmy. I could see that the cliild was puttiug on all her lit-
tle airs to attract his attention ; now the long lashes s>rept the
cheeks, now they wera raised suddenly, disclosing the unexpect-
ed blue eyes : the little moccuiined feet mvtBt be wanned on the
fender, the braids must be swept back with an impatient move-
ment of the hand and shoulder, and now and then there was a
coquettish arch of the red lips, less than a pout, what she her-
self would have called ' un« p'tite motte.' Our surgeon watched
this pantomime unmoved.

' Is n't she beautiful ]' I said, when, at the expiration of the
hour, Jeannette disappeared, wrapped in her mantle.

* No ; not to my eyes.'

' Why, what more can you require. Doctor ? Look at her
rich coloring, her hair — '

' There is no mind in her face, Mrs. Oorlyne.'

' But she is still a child.'

She will always be a child ; she will never mature,' answered
our surgeon, going up the steep stairs to his room above.

Jeannette came regularly, and one morning, tilled of the bead-
work, I proposed teaching her to read. She consented, although
not without an incentive in the form of shillings ; but, however
gained, my scholar gave to the long winter a new interest.
She learned i idily ; but as there was no foundation, I was
obliged to commence with A, B, C.

' Why not teach her to cook *?* suggested the major's fair
young wife, whose life was spent in hopeless labors with Indian
servants, who, sooner or later, ran away in the night with
spoons and the family apparel.

* Wuy uofc teach her to sew?' said Madame Captain, wearily
raising her eyes from the pile of small garments before her.

* Why not have hei up for one of our sociables f hazarded
our most dashing lieutenant, twirling his moiistache.

' Frederick !' exclaimed his wife, in a tone of horror : she was
aristocratic, but sharp in outlines.

* Why not bring her into the church ?' Those French half-
breeds are little better than heathen,' said the chaplain.

JEANNETTK

0»

Thui the high authorities disapproyed of my educational ef-
forts. I related their commeutH to Archie, and added, ' The
surgeon is the only one who has said nothing against it.'

' Preacott 1 O, he 's too high and mighty to notice anybody,
much less a half-hreed girl. I never saw such a stiff, silent
fellow ; he looka as if he had swallowed all his straightlaced
Puritan ancestors. I wish he 'd exchange.'

* Gently, Archie — '

' O, yes, without doubt j certainly, and amen ! I know you
like Mm, Aunt Saiah,' said my handsome boy -soldier, laugh-
ing.

The lesjions v-ent on. Wo often saw the surgeon during
jHtudy hours, as the stairway leading to his room opened out of
the litile parlor. Sometimes he would stop awhile and listen
as , Jeannette slowly read, * The good boy likes his red top' ;
' The good girl can sew a seam' ; or watched her awkward at-
tempts to write her name, or add a one and a two. It was slow
work, but 1 perseveredy if from no other motive than obstinacy.
Had they not all prophesied a failure ? When wearied with
the dull routine, I gave an oral lesson in poetry. If the rhymes
were of the chiming, rythmic kind, Jeannette learned rapidly,
catching the verses A» one catches a tune, and repeating them
with a spirit and dramatic gesture all her own. Her favorite
was Macaulay's ' Ivry.' Beatitiful she looked, as, standing in
the centre of the room^ she rolled out the sonorous lines, her
French accent giving a charming foreign coloring to the well-
known verses : —

^ Now by tlie lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France,
Charge for the golden lilies, — upon them with the lance !
A thousand spears are striking deep, a thousand epears in rest,
A thousand knights are pressing elose behind the snow-white crest ;
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star.
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the hebnet of Navarre. '

And yet, after all my explanations, she only half tmderstood
it ; the * knights' were always * nights' in her mind, and the
* thickest carnage' was always the ' thickest carriage.' ,

One March day she came at the ap})ointed hour, soon after
our noon dinner. The usual clear winter sky was clouded,
and a wind blew the snow fiom the trees where it had lain
quietly month after month. ' Spring is coming,' said the old

v^^f^wmmtm

■mwppiviji .p^p»

■■If I "nwi" ^^m^

JEANNETTB.

isorgeant that morning, as he hoisted the storm-flag ; it 's get-
ting wildlike.'

Jeannettc and I went through the lessons, but towards three
o'clock a north -wind came sweeping over the Straits and envel-
oped the island in a whirling snow-storm, partly eddies of
white splinters torn from the ice-bound forest, and partly a new
fall of round snow pellets careering along on the gale, quite
unlike the soft, feathery flakes of early winter. * You cannot
^o home now, Jeannette,' I said, looking out through the lit-
tle west window ; our cottege stood back on the hill, and from
this side window we could see the Straits, going down toward
far Waugoschanco ; the steep fort-hill outside the wall ; the
long mea!dow, once an Indian burial-place, below ; and beyond
-on the beach the row of cabins inhabited by the French fisher-
men, one of them the homo of my pupil. The girl seldom went
round the point into the village ; its one street and a half seem-
ed distasteful to her. She climbed the stone-wall on the ridge
behind her cabin, took an Indian trail through the grass in
summer, or struck acro«is on the snow-crust in winter, ran up
the steep side of the foi-t-hill like a wild chamois, and came into
the garrison enclosure with a careless nod to the admiring sen-
tinel, as she passed under the rear entrance. These French
half-breeds, like the gypsies, were not without a pride of their
;Own. They held themselves aloof from the Irish of Shanty-
town, the floating sailor population of the summer, and the
-common soldiers of the gairison. They intermarried among
themselves, and held theii* own revels in their beach-cabins du-
ring the winter, with music from their old violins, dancing and
songs, French ballads with a chorus after every two Tinea,
quaint cJutiwons handed down from voyageur ancestors. Small
respect had they for the little Roman Catholic church beyond
the old Agency garden; its German priest they refused to
honor ; but, when stately old Father Piret came over to the
island from his herriiitage in the Chenaux, they I'an to meet
him, young and old, and paid him reverence with aflectionate
jrespect. Father Piret was a Parisian, and a gentleman ; no-
thing less would suit these far-away sheep in the wilderness I

Jeannette Leblanc had all the pride of her class ; the Irish
isaloon-keeper with his shining tall hat, the loud-talking mate
of the lake schooner, the trim sentinel pacing thj fort walls,

JEANNETTE.

ills,

were nothing to her, and this somewhat incongruous hauteur
gave her we air of a little princess.

On this stormy afternoon the captain's wife was in my par-
lor preparing to return to her own quarters with some coffee
she had borrowed. Hearing my remark she said, ' O, the snow
won't hurt the child, Mrs. Corlyne ; she must be storm-proof,
living down there on the beach ! Duncan can take her home.f

Duncan was tJie orderly'', a factotum in the garrison.

* Non,* said Jeaunette, tossing her head proud '-^ ««» the door
closed behind the lady, * I wish not of Duncan i alone.'

It happened litat Archie, my nephew, had . 'nc u er to the
cottage of the commanding officer to decorate i! *? parlor for
the military sociab'.e ; I knew he would not return, and the
evening stretchsd uut before me in all its long loneliness. * Stay,
Jeannette,' I said. We will have tea together htre, and when
the wind goes down, old Antoiue shall go back with yonJ An-
toine was a French wood-cutter, whose cabin e)ung half-way
down the fort-hill like a swallow's nest.

Jeannette's eyes sparkled ; I had never invited her before ;
in an instant she had turned the day into a high festival;
* Braid hair ?' she asked, glancing toward the mirror ; 'faut que
je nC fa^sse belle.' And the long hair came out of its close braids,
enveloping her in its glossy dark waves, while sh«^ carefully
smoothed out the bits of red ribbon that serve! as feugtenings.
At this moment the door opened, and the surgeon, the windi
and a puff of snow came in together. Jeannette looked up,
smiling and blushing ; the falling hair gave a new softuess to
her face, and her eyes were as shy as the eyes of a wild fawn.

Only the previous day I had noticed that Rodney Prescotfe
listened with marked attention to the captain's cousin, a Vir-
ginia lady, as she advanced a theory that Jeannette had negro
blood in her veins. * Those quadroon girls often have a certain
kii\d of plebeian beauty like this pet of yours, Mrs. Corlyne,'
she said, with a slight sniff of her high-bred, pointed nose. In
vain I exclaimed, in vain I argued ; the garrison ladies wei
all against me, and, in their presence, not a man dared come
to my aid ; and the surgeon even added, ' I wish I could be
^8ure of it'

' Sure of the negro blood 1' I said indignantly.

•Yes.' .

* But Jeunnette does not look in the least like a quadroon, j

JEANNETTE.

l« ■'■

* Some of the quadroon girls are very hancksome, Mrs. Cor-
lyne,' answered the surgeon, coldly.

* O yes !' said the high-bred Virginia Irdy. * My brother
has a number of them about his place, but we do not teach
them to read, I assure you. . It spoils them.'

As I looked at Jeannette's beautiful face, her delicate eagle
profile, her fair skin and light blue eyes, I recalled this conver-
sation with vivid ind^ation. The surgeon, at least, should
be convinced of his mistake. Jeannette had never looked more
brilliant ; probably the man had never really scanned her fea-
tures, — -he was such a cold, unseeing creature ; but t >' night he
should have a fair opportunity, so I invited him to join our
Btorm-bound tea-party. He hesitated.

' Ah, do. Monsieur Kodenai.' said Jeannette, springing for-
ward. * I sing for you, I dance ; but, no, you not like that,
Bien, I tell your fortune then.' The young girl loved company.
A party of three, no matter who the third, was to her infinitely
better than two.

The surgeon stayed.

A, merry evening we had before the hearth-fire< The wind
howled around the block-house and ratUed the flag-stafi*, and
the snow pellets sounded on the wihdow-panes, giving that
sense of warm comfort within that comes only with the storm.
Our servant had been drafted into service for the military so-
ciable, and I was to prepare the evening meal myself.

' Not tea,' said Jeannette, wititi a wry face ; * tea, — c'est med-
ecinef She had arranged her hair in fanciful braids, and
now followed me to the kitchen, enjoying the novelty like a
child. ' Caje T she said. * O, please, madame ! / make it.'

The little shed kitchen was cold and dreary, each plank of
its thin walls rattling in the gale with a dismal creak ; the
wind blew the smoke down the chimney, and finally it ended
in our bringing everything into the cosey parlor, and using the
h^aHh fire, where Jeannette made cofiee and baked little cakes
over the coals.

The meal over, Jeannette sang her songs, sitting on the inig
before the fire, — Ze Btau VoyageuVy Les Neiges de la Clcehe,
ballads in Canadian patois sung to minor airs brought over
from France two hundred yeai« before.

The surgeon sat in the shade of the chimney-piece, his face
shaded by his hand, and I could not discover whether he saw

JEANNETTE.

anything to admire in my protegee, until, standing in the cen-
tre of the room, she gave us ^ Ivry' in glorious style. Beauti-
ful she looked as she rolled out the lines , —

* And if my standard-bearer fall, as faU full well he may, —
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, —
Press where ye' see my white plume shine amidst the ra^ka of war,
And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.'

Bodney sat in the full light now, and I secretly triumphed
in his rapt attention.

* Something else, Jeannette,' I said in the pride of my heart.
Instead of repeating anything I had taught her, she began iu
French : —

' " Marie, enfant, quitte I'ouvrage,
Vmci Tetoille du berger."
— "Ma mere, un enfant du village
languit captif ehez I'etranger ;
Pris sur mer, loin de sa patrie,
II s'est rendu, — mais le dernier."
File, file, pauArre Marie,
Pour secourir le prisonnier ;
File, file, pauvre Marie,
File, file, pour le prisonnier.

" ?

our lui je filerais moi-meme
Mon enfant, — mais — j'ai tant vieilli !"
— " Envoyez a celui que j'aime
; Tout le gain par moi recueilli.
Rose a sa nece en vain me prie ; —
Dieu I j'entends le menetrier !"
File, file, pauvre Marie,
Pour secourir le prisonnier ;
File, file, pauvre Marie,
File, file, pour le prisonnier.

' *' Plus pres du feu file, ma chere ;
La nuit vieut de refroidir le temps."
, — " Adrien, m'a-t-on dit, ma mere,
Gemit dans des cachots flottaats.
On repousse la main fietrie
Qu'il etend vers un pain grossier."
File, file, pauvre Marie,
Pour secourir le prisoimier ;

JEANNETTE.

File, file, pauvre Marie,

File, file pour le priaonnier.' (a)

Jeannette repeated these lines with a pathos so real that I
felt a moisture rising in my eyes.

' Where did you learn that, child f I asked.

* Father Piret, madame.' *
'Whatisiti'

* Je ri sais.*

' It is B6ranger, — * The Prisoner of War/ said Rodney Pres*
cott. * But you omitted the last verse, mademoiselle ; may I
ask why 1*

' More sad so,* answered Jeannette. * Marie she die now.'

* You wish her to die T ,

* Mais oui : she die for love ; c'est beau P

And there flashed a glance from the girl's eyes that thrilled
through me, I scarcely knew why. I looked towards Rodney,
but he was back in the shadow again.

The hours passed. ' I must go,' said Jeannette, drawing
aside the curtain. Clouds were still driving across the sky,
but the snow had ceased falling, and at intervals the moon
shone out over the cold white scene; t^he March wind con-
tinued on its wild career toward the south.

' I will send for Antoine,' I said, rising, as Jeannette took
up her fur mantle.

' The old man is sick to-day,' said Rodney. * It would not
be snfe for him to leave the fire to-night. I will accompany
mademoiselle.'

Pretty Jeannette shrugged her shoulders. ' Mais, monsieur^
she answered, * I go over the hill.'

* No, child ; not to-night,' I said decidedly. * The wind is
violent, and the cliff doubly slippery after this ice-storm. Go
round through the village'

* Of course we shall go through the village,' said our surgeon,
in his calm authoritative way. They started. Put in another
minute I saw Jeannette fly by the west window, over the wall
and across the snowy road, like a spirit, disappearing down the
steep bank, now slippery with glare ice. Another minute, and
Rodney Prescott followed in her track.

(a) * Le Priaonmer de Guerre,' Beranger.

JEANNBTTEi

U
he

With bated breath I warohed for the reappearance of the two
figures on the white plain, one hundred and fifty feet below ;
w!L - ^lifF was difficult at ajay time, and now in this ice 1 ' The
moments seemed very long, and, alarmed, I was on the point
of arousing the garrison, when I spied the two dark figures on
the snowy plain below, now clear in the moonlight, now lost in
the shadow. I watched them for some distance ; then a cloud
came, and I Ipst them entiiely. '

Rodney did not return, although I sat late before the dying
fire. Thinking over the evening, the idea came to me.' that
perhaps, aftfer all, he did admire my protegee^ and, being a ro-
mantic old woman^ I did not repel the fancy \ it might go a
certain distance without harm, and an idyl is always charming,
doubly so to people cast away on a desert island. One falls
into the habit of studying persons very closely in the limited
circle of garrison life. W^^&fJ^

But, the next morning, the major's wife gave me an account
of the sociable. * It was very pleasant,' she said. ' Toward
the last Dr. Prescott came in, quite unexpectedly. I had.no
idea he could be so agreeable. Augusta can tell you h&k
charming he was !'

Augusta, a young lady cousin, of pale blond complexion,
neutral opinions, and irreproachable manners, smiled primly.
My idyl was crushed !

The days passed. The winds, the snows, and the high-up
fort remained the same. Jeannette came and went, and the
hour lengthened into two or thi-ee ; not that we read much,
but we talked more. Our surgeon did not again pass through
the pailor ; he had ordered a rickety stairway on the outside
wall to be repaired, and we could hear him going up and down
its icy steps as we sat by the hearth-fire. One day I said to
him, * Mj protegee is improving wonderfully. If she could h^ve
a complete education, she might take her place with the best in
the land.'

* Do not deceive yourself, Mrs. Corlyne,' he answered. * It
is only the shallow French quickness.'

' Why do you always judge the child so harshly, Doctor V

* Do you take her part, Aunt Sarah 1' (For sometimes he
used the title which Archie had made so familiar.)

* Of course I do, Rodney. A poor, unfriended girl living in

JEANNETTE.

this remote place, against a United States surgeon with the best
of Boston behind him.'

* I Mrish you would tell me that every day, Aunt Sarah,* was
the reply I reeeired. It set me musing, but I could make
nothing of it. Troubled without knowing why, I suggested to
Archie that he should endeavor to intwest our surgeon in the
fort gayety ; there was something for every night in the merry
little circle, — ^games, suppers, tableaux, music, theatricals, read-
ings, and the like.

* Why, he'» in the thick of it already, Aunt Sarah,' said my
nephew. * He's devoting himself to Miss Augusta ; she sings
* T^e Harp that (moe — * to him every night.,

(* The Hal*!) tha/t once through Tara's Halls, was Miss Au-
gusta's dress-parade song. The Major's quarters not being as
large as tiie halls aforesaid, the melody was somewhat over*
powering.)

' O, does she V I thought, not without a shade of vexation.
But the vague anxiety vnnished.

The real spring came at last, — ^the rapid, vivid spring of
Mackinac. Almost in a day the ice moved out, the snows
melted, and the northern wild-flowers appeared in the sheltered
glens. Lessons were at an end, for my scholar was away in
the green woods. Sometimes she brought me a bunch of flowers ;
but I seldom saw her ; my wild bird had flown back to the
forest. When the ground was dry and the pine dro^ings
warmed by the sun, I, too, ventured abroad. One day, wan-
dering as far as the Arched Rock, I found the surgeon there,
and together we sat down to rest under the trees, looking off
over the blue water flecked with white caps. The Arch is a
natural bridge over a chasm one hundred and fifty feet above
the lake, — a fissure in the clifl* which has fallen away in a
hollow, leaving the bridge by itself far out over the water.
This bridge springs upward in the f^ape of an arch ; it is fifty
feet long, and its width is in some places two feet, in others
twily a few inches,— a narrow, dizzjr pathway haagic^ between
sky and water.

* People have crossed it,' I said.

* Only fods,' answered our surgeon, who deiE^)ised foolbardi-
ness. * Has a man nothing better to do with his life t^n rbk
it for the sake of a silly feat like that 9 I would not so much
as raise my eyes \o ^ee any one cross.*

JEANNETTE.

lucb.

* O yes, you would, Monsieur Bodenai, cried a voice behind
us. We both turned and caught a glimpse of Jeannette as she
bounded through the bushes and out to the very oentre of
the Arch, where she stood balancing herself and laughing
Kayly. Her form was outlined against the sky; the brcezBi
swayed her skirt; she seemed hovering over the chasm. I
watched her, mute with fear ; a word might cause her to lose
her balance ; but I could not turn my eyes away, I was fascin-
ated wth the sight I was not aware that Rodney had left m«
until he, too, appeared on the Arch, slowly finding a foothold
for himself and advancing towacd the c^itre. A fragment of
the rock broke off under his foot and fell in the abyss below.

' Gro back, Monsieur Bodenai,' cried Jeannette, seeing his
danger.

* Will you came back too, o eannette f

* Moi ? (Test out* chose,' answered the girl, gayly tossing her
pretty head.

' Then I shall come out and carry you back, wilful child,*
said the surgeon,

A peal of laughter broke from Jeannette as he spoke and then
she began to dance on her point of rock, swinging herself from
side to side, marking the time with a song. I held ray breath ;
her dance seemed unearthly ; it was as though she belonged to
the Prince of the Powers of the Air.

At length the surgeon f cached the centre and caught the
mocking creature in his arms : neither spoke, but I could see
the flash of their eyes as they stood for an instant motionless;
Then they struggled on the narrow foothold and swayed over so
far that I buried my face in my trembling hands, unable to look
at the dreadful end. When I opened my eyes again all was
stUl ; the Arch was tenantless, and no sound came from below.
Were they, then, so soon dead ? Without a cry ? I forced
myself to the brink to look down over the precipice ; but while
I stood there, fearing to look, I heard a i(ound behind me in the
woods. It was Jeannette singing a gay French song. I called
to her to stop. * How could you V I said severely, for I was
still trembling with agitation.

* Ce n'est rien, madame. I cross I'Arche when I had five
year. Maisj Monsieur Eodenai le Gi'and, he raise his eye to
look this time, I think,' said Jeannette, laughing triumphantly.

'Where is her

..■^'

JTEANNETTE.

* On the far side, gone on to Scott's Pic [Peak]. Feroce,
J^roce, comnie un lonpgarou I Ah ! cueist joli, <^a ! And over-
flowing with the wildest glee the girl danced along thi'ough the
woods in front of me, now pausing to look at something in her
^land, now laughing, now shouting like a wild creature, until I
k)8t sight '^f her. I went back to the fort alone.

For several days I saw nc thing of Rodney. When at last
we met, I said, ' T:>a,t was a wild freak of Jeaimette's at the
Arch.'

* Planned, to get a few shillings out of us.'

* O Doctor ! 1 do not think she had any such motive,' I
replied, looking up deprecatingly into his cold scornful eyes.

* Ai-e you not a little sentimental over that ignorant, half-wild
creature, Aunt Sarah V

* Well,' I said to myself, * perhaps I am !'

The summer c$me, sails whitened the blue straits again,
steamers stopped for an hour or two at the island docks, an^r
the summer travellers rushed ashore to buy ' Indiic^n curiosities,'
made by the nuns in Montreal, or to climb breathlessly up the
steep fort-hill to see the pride and panoply of war. Proud was
the little white fort in those summer days ; the sentinels held
themselves stiffly erect, the offlcei-s gave up lying on the para-
pet half asleep, the best flag was hoisted daily, and there was
much bugle-playing and ceremony connected with the evening
gun, fired from the ramparts at sunset ; the hotels were full,
the boarding-house keej^ers were in their annual state of wonder
over the singular taste of these people from * below,' who
actually preferred a miserable white-fish to the best of beef
brought up on ice- all the way from Buflfalo ! There v. ere pic-
nics and walkt, and much confusion of historical dates respect-
ing Father Marquette and the irrepres^ble, omnipresent Pon-
tiac. The ofiicers did much escort duty ; their buttons gilded
every scene. Our quiet surgeon was foremost in everything.

* I am surprised ! I had no idea Dr. Prescott was so gay,'
said the major's wife. '

* I should not think of calling him gay/ I answered.

* Why, my tlear Miu Corlyne ! He is going all the . time.
Just ask Augusta.'

K Augusta thereupon remarked tJiat societ}'^, to a ceatain extent,
was beneficial ; that she considered Dr Pre scott much improved ;
really, he was now very * nice.'

JEANNETTE.

73-

I silently protested agaiiist the word. But then I was not a
Bostonian.

One blight afternoon X went through the village, round the
point into the French quarter, in search of a laundress. The
fishermeii's cottages faced the west ; they were low and wide,
not unlike scows drilted ashore and moored on the beach foe
houses. The little windows had gay curtains fluttering in the
breeze, and the room within looked clean and cheery ; the
rough walls were adorned with the spoils of the fresh-water
seas, shells, green stones, agates, spar, and curiously shaped,
pebbles ; occasionally there was a stuiied water-bii-d, or a
bright-colored print, and always a violin. Black-eyed children
played in the water which bordered their narrow beach-garder" ;
and slender women, with shining black hair, stood in their door-
ways knitting. I found my laundress, and then went on to
Jeannette's home, the last house in the row. From the mother,
a Chippewa woman, I learned that Jeannette was with her
French father at the fishing-grounds off Diummond's Island,

' How long has she been away V I asked.

* Veeks four,* replied the mother, whose knowledge of En- ■
glish was confined to the price-list of white-fish and blueberries^
the two articles of her traffic with the boarding-house keepers.^

* When will she return V
• 'Je Vb sais.'

She knitted on, sitting in the sunshine on her little doorstep^
looking out over the western water with tranquil content in^
her beautiful, gentle eyes. As I walked up the beach I glanced
back several times to see if she had the curiosity to watch me ;
but no, she still looked out over the western water. What
was I to her 1 Less than nothing. A white-fisli was more.

A week or two later I strolled out to the Giant's Stairway
and sat down in the little rock chapel. There was a picnic at
the Lovers' Leap, and I had that side of the island to myself.
I was leaning back, half asleep, in the deep shadow, when the
sound of voices roused me ; a birch-bark canoe -was passing
close in shore, and two were in it, — Jeannette and our surgeon.
I could not hear their words, but I noticed Rodney's expression.
as he leaned forward. Jeannette was paddling slowly ; her
cheeks were flushed, and her eyes brilliant. Another moment,
and a point hid them from my view. I went home troubled.

* Did you enjoy the picnic, Miss Augusta f I said with asr

JEANNETTE.

«umed carelessness, that evening. ' Dr Prescott was there, a9
Msual, I suppose \

* He was not present, but the picnic was highly ♦^njoyable/
replied Miss Augusta, in her^even voice and impartial manner.

' The Doctor has not been with us for some days,* said the
major's wife, archly ; * I suspect he does not like Mr Piper.

Mr Piper was a portly widowei-, of sanguine complexion, a
Chicago produce-dealer, who was sui)])08ed to admire Miss Au-
gusta, and was now goimg through a course of * The Harp that
once.'

The last days of summer flew swiftly by ; the surgeon held
himself aloof ; we scarcely saw him in the garrison circles, and
I no longer met him in my rambles.

* Jealousy !' said the major's wife.

September came. The summer visitors fled away homeward ;
the remaining ' Indian curiosities* were Btored iway for another
season ; the hotels were closed, and the forests deseTted ; the
bluebells swung unmolested on their heights and the plum]> In- .
dian-pipes grew ' peace in their dark comei-w. The little
white fort, too, \i m to assume its winter manjiers ; the storm-
flag was hoistt d ; there . were evening fires \ipon the broad
hearth-stones; the chaplain, having finished eve ivthing about
Balak, his seven altars and seven rams, was ready for chess-prob-
lems; books and papers were ordered ; stoKs laid in, and anx-
ious inquiries made as to the * habits' of the new mail carrier —
for the mail canier was the hero of the winter, and if his * hab-
its' led him to whiskey, there was danger that our precious let-
ters might be dropped all along the northern curve of Lake
Huron.

Upon this quiet matterof course preparation, suddenly, like
a thunderbolt from a clear sky, came orders to leave. The
whole garrison, ofl&cers and men, were ordered to Florida.

In a moment all was desolation. It was like being ordered
into the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Dense everglades,
swamp-fevers, malaria in the air, poisonous underbrush, and
venomous reptiles and insects, and now and then a wily unseen
foe picking ofi" the men, one by one, as they painfully cut out
roads through the thickets, — these were the features of military
life in Florida at that period. Men who would have marched
boldly to the cannon's mouth, officers who would have headed
a forlorn hope, shrank from the deadly ywamps.

■'''fp^'mim?ai»immsiim^-^-^

,^i^3Lji««-^]iiwe> ' -..V-O^r

JEANNETTE.

Families must be broken up, also ; no women, no children,
could go to Florida. Tl>«re were tears and the sound of sobbint/
in the little white fort, as the poor wives, all young mothers,
hastily packed their few possessions to go b^ck to their fathera'
houses, fortunate if they had fathers to receive tl m. The
husbands went about in silence, too sad for words. Archie
kept up the b<*flt courage but he was young, and had no one
to leave save me.

The evening uf the fatal day — for the orders had come in the
early dawn — I was alone in my little parlor, already bare and
desolftte with packing-cases. The wind had been rising hince
morning, and now blew furiously from the west. Suddenly
the door burst open and the surgeon ent^>*ed. I was shocked
at his appearance, as, pale, Imggard, with disordered hair and
clothing, he sank into a chair, ami looked at me in silence. ,

* Rodney, what is it f I said.

He did not answer, but still looked at me with thp.t strange
gaze. Alarmed, I rose and went toward him, laying my hand
on his shoulder with a motherly touch. I loved the quiet,
gray-eyed youth next after Archie.

' What ia it, my poor boy t Can I help you V

' O Aunt Sarah, perhaps you can, tor you know her.'

* Her f I repeated, with sinking heart.
'Yes, Jeannette.'

T sat down and folded my hands ; trouble had come, but it
was not what I apprehended, — the old story of military life,
love, and desertion ; the ever-present ballad of the ' gay young
knight who loves and rides away.* This was something dif-
ferent.

* I love her, — I love her madly, in spite of myself,' said
Rodney, |K)uring forth his words with feverish rapidity. 'I
know it is an infatuation, 1 know it is utterly unreasonable,
and yet — I love her. I have striven against it, I have fought
with myself, I have written out elaborate arguments wherein I
have clearly demonstrated the folly of such an aflfection, and I
have compelled myself to read them over slowly, word for word,
•when alone in" my room, and yet — I love her ! Ignorant, I
know Hhe would shame me ; shallow, I know she could not sat-
isfy mo ; as a wife she would inevitably drag me down to
misery, and yet — I love her ! I had not been on the island a
week before I saw her, and marked her beauty. Months before

JEANNETTE.

you invited her to the fort I had become infatuated with her
flingular lovelineafi ; but, in some respects, a race of the blood-
royal could not be prouder than these French fishermen. They
"will accept your money, they will cheat you, they will tell you
lies for an extra shilling ; but make one step toward a siuiple
acquaintance, and the door will be shut in your face. They
will bow down before you as a customer, but they will not
have you for a friend. Thus I found it imjwssible to reach
Jeannette. I do not say that I tried, for all the time I was
fighting myself; but I went fai' enough to see the barriers.
It seemed a fatality that you should take a fancy to her, have
her here, and ask me to admire her, — admire the face that
haunted me by day and by night, driving me mad with its
beauty.

' I realized my danger, and called to my aid all the pride of
my race. I said to my heart, * You shall not love this ignorant
half-breed to your ruin., I reasoned with myself, and said, * It
is only because you are isolated on this far-away island. Could
you present this girl to your mother 1 Could she be a com-
panion for your sisters 1' I was beginning to gain a firmer
conti-ol over myself, in spite of her presence, when you unfolded
your plan of education. Fatality again; Instantly a crowd of
hopes surged up. The education you began, could I not finish 1
She was but young ; a few years of careful teaching might
work wonders. Could I not train this forest flower so that it
could take its place in the garden ? But, when I actually saw
this full-grown woman unable te add the simplest sum or write
her name correctly, X was again ashamed of my infatuation.
It is one thing to talk of ignorance, it is another to come face
to face Tvith it. Thus I wavered, at one moment ready to give
up all for pride, at another to give up all for love.

* Then came the malicious suggestion of negro blood. Could
it be proved, I was free ; that taint I could not pardon. [And
here, even as the surgeon spoke, J noticed this as the peculiar-
ity of the New England Abolitionist. Theoretically ho believed
in the equality of the enslaved race, and stood ready to main-
tain the belief with his life, but practically he held himself en-
tii-ely aloof from them ; the Southern creed and practice were
the exact reverse.] I made inquiries of Father Piret, who
knows the mixed genealogy of the little French colony as far
back as the first voyageurs of the fur trade, and found — as I,

JEANNETTE.

Bhall I say hoped or feared ? — that the insinuation was utterly
false. Thus I was thrown back into the old tumult.

' Then came that evening in this jmi lor when Jeannette
made the coffee and baked little cakes over the coals. Do you
remember the pathos with which she chanted File, file, pauvra
Marie; File, file, j^our le prisonnier ? Do you remember how
she looked when she repeated ' Ivry' 1 Did that tender pity,
that ringing inspiration come fi*om a dull mind and shallow
heart 1 I was avenged of my enforced disdain, my love gave
itself up to delicious hope. She was capable of education, and
then — ! I made a pretext of old Antoine's cough in order to
gain an opportunity of speaking to her alone ; but she was like
a thing possessed, she broke from me and sprang over the icy
cliff, her laugh coming back on the wind as T followed her down
the dangerous slope.- On she rushed, jumping from rock to
i-ock, waving her hand in wild j»lee when the moon shone out,
singing and shouting with merry scorn at my desperate efforts
to reach her. It was a mad chase, but only on the plain below
could I come up with her. There, breathless and eager, I un-
folded to her my plan of education. I only went as far as this :
I was willing to send her to school, to give her opportunities
of seeing the world, to provide for her whole future. I left the
story of my love to come afterward. She laughed me to scorn.
As well talk of education U} the bird of the wilderness ! She
rejected my offei-s, picked up snow to throw in my face, covered
me with her French sarcasms, danced around me. in circles,
laughed, and mocked, until I was at a loss to know whether
she was human. Finally, as a shadow darkened the moon she
fled away ; and when it passed she m as gone, and I was alone
on the snowy plain.

*Angrj% fierce, filled with scorn for myself, I determined
resolutely' to crush out my senseless infatuation. I threw my-
self into such society as we had ; T assumed an interest in that
inane Miss Au.u:Msta ; I read and studied far into the night ; I
walked until sheer fatiirue gave me ti-jinquillity ; but all I
gained was lost in that encounter at the arch : you remember
it 1 When I saw hei on that narrow bridge, my love buret its
bonds again, and, senseless as cA^er, i-ushed to save her, — to save
her poised on her native rocks, where every inch was familiar
from childhood ? To save her, — sure-footed and light as a bird I
I caught her. She struggled in my arms, anrgiily, as an im-

JEANNETTE.

prisoned animal might struggle, but — so beautiful ! The im-
pulse came to me to spring with her into the gulf below, and so
end the contest forever. I might have done it, — I cannot
tell, — but, suddenly, she wrenched herself out of my arms and
fled oyer the Arch, to the farther side. I followed, trembling,
blinded, with the violence of my emotion. At that moment I
wai> ready to give up my life, my soul, iuto her hands.

' In the woods beyond she p&used, glanced ov()r her shoulder
towaixl me, then turrxed eagerly. ' Voilct^ she said, pointing.
I looked down and saw several silver pieces that had dropped
from my pocket as I sprang over the rocks, and, with an im*
patient gesture, I thrust them aside with my foot.

* iV^OM, she cried, turning toward me and stooping eagerly, —
' so much ! 0, so much ! See ! four shilling !' Her eyes
glistened with longing as she held the money in her hand and
fingered each piece lovingly.

* The sudden revulsion of feeling produced by her words and
gebture filled me with fury. ' Keep it, and buj yourself a soul
if you can !' I cried ; and turning away, I left her with her
gains.

* Mercij monsievr,' she answered gayly, all unmindful of my
scorn ; £gid off she ran, holding her treasure tightly clasped in
both hands. I could hear her singing far down the path.

* It is a bitter thing to feel a scorn for yourself ! Did I l^ve
this girl who stooped to gather a few shilliags from under my
feet '? Was it, then, impossible for me to oonquer this ignoble
passion 1 l^o ; it could not and it should not be ! I plunged
again into all the gayety ; I left myself not one free moment ;
if sleep camt not, I forced it to come with opiates ; Jeannette
had gono to the fishing-grounds, the weeks passed, I did not
see her. I had made the hardest struggle of all, and was be-
ginning to recover my self-respect when, one day, I met her in
the woods with some children j she had returned to gather
blueberries. I looked at her. She was more gentle than
usual, and smiled. Suddenly, as an embaukment which has
•withstood the storms of many \vinters gives away at last in %
calm summer night, I yielded. Myself knew the contest was
over and my other self rushed to her feet.

* Since then I have often seen her ; I have made plan after
plan to meet her ; I have — degrading thought ! — paid her to
take me out in her canoe, under the pretence of fishing. I no

JEANNETTK

longer looked forward ; I lived only in the present, and thought
only of when and where I could see aer. Thus it has been
until this morning, when the orders came. Now, I am brought
face to face with reality ; I must go j can I leave her behind ?
For hours I have been wandering in the woods. Aunt Sai'ah,
—it is of no use, — I cannot live without her : I must marry
her.'

' Marry Jeannette !* I exclaimed.

' Even so.'

* An ignorant half-breed f

* As you say, an ign(H^nt half-breed.'

* You are mad, Rodney/
' I ki.ow it '

I wUl not repeat all I said ; but, at last, silenced, if not con*
vinced, by the power of this great love, I started with him out
into the wild night to seek Jeannette. "We went through the
village and round the village and round the point, where the
■wind met ua, and the waves broke at our feet with a roar.
Passing the row of cabins, with their twinkling lights, we
reached the home of Jeannette and knocked at the low door.
The Indian mother opened it. I entered, without a word, and
took a seat nepr the hearth, where a drift-wood fire vas bulging.
Jeannette came forward with a surprised look. ' You little-
think what gOod fortune is coming to you, child,' I thought, a»
I noted her coarse di-ess and ' x-e poor furniture oi" the little
room.

Rodney burst at once into his subject.

* Jeannette,' he said, going toward her, * I have come co take-
yoa away with me. You need not go to school ; I have given
up that idea, — I accept you as you are. You sh^ll h&xe silk
dresses and ribbons, like the ladies of the Mission-House this
Bummer. You shall see all great cities, you shall hear beauti-
ful music. You shall have everything you want, — money,,
bright shillings, as many as you wish. See ! Mrs. Corlyne has
come with me to show you that it is true. This morning we
had orders tc leave Mackinac ; in a few days we must go. But
— ^listen, Jeannette ; I will maiTy you. You shall be my wife.
Do not look so startled. I mean it ; it is really true.*

' Qu'est-ce-qiie-c'est T said the girl, bewildered by the rapid,

eager worda

Dr. Prescott wishes to maiTy you, child,' I explained, some-

■so

JEANNETTE.

what sadly, for never had the disparity between them seemed
so great. The presence of the Indian mother, the common
room, were like silent protests.

* Marry !' ejaculated Jeannette.

* Yes, love,' said the surgeon, ardently. * It is quite true ;
Father Piret shall marry us. I will 'exchange into another
regiment, or, if necessary, I will resign. Do you understand
what I am saying, Jeannette ? See ! I give you my hand, in
token that it is true.' '

But, with a quick bound, the girl was across the room.
^What?' she cried. 'You think I marry you7 Have you
not heard of Baptiste 1 Know, then, that I iove one finger of
him more than all you, ten times, hundred times.'

* Baptiste V repeated Rodney.

' Oui, mon cousin, Baptiste, the fisherman. We marry soon
— tenez — la fete de Saint Andre,'

Rodney looked bewildered a moment, then his face cleared;
* Oh ! a child engagement 1 That is one of your customs, I
know. But never fear ; Father Piret will absolve ycu from all
that. Baptiste shall have a fine new boat ; he will let you off
for a handful of silver pieces. Do not think of that, Jeannette,
but come to me — '

Je vous abhorre ; je vous deteste,' cried the girl with fury as
he approached. 'Baptiste not love lae'i He love me more
than boat and silver dollar, — more than all the world ? And I
love him ; I die for him ! Allez-vous-en, trattre P :

Rodney had grown white ; he stood before her, motionless,
with fixed eyes.

* Jeannette,' I said in French, ' perhaps you do not under-
stand. Dr. Prescott asks you to marry him ; Father Piret
shall marry you, and all your friends shall come. Dr. Prescott
Mall take you away from this hard life ; he will make you rich j
he will support your father and mother in comfort. My child,
it is wondeiful good fortune. He is an educated gentleman,
and loves you truly.'

* "What is that to me X replied Jeannette, proudly. ' Let
him go, I care not.'^ She paused a moment Then, with flash-
ing eyes, she cried, ' Let him go with his fine new boat and
silver dollars ! He does not believe me 1 See, then, how I
despise him !' And rushing forward, she struck him on the
-cheek.

JEANNETTE.

Rodney did not stii-, but stood gazing at her while the red
mark glowed on his white face

' You know not what love is,' said Jeannette, with indescribabla
scorn. * Yojn ! Yau ! Ah, man Baptists, oh es-tu ? But thoa
wilt kill him, — kill him for his boats and silver dollars !'

* Child !' I said, startled by her fury.

' I am not a child. /« suis femnt^, moi P replied Jeannette,
folding her arms with haughty grace. * Allez P she said, point-
ing toward the door. We were dismissed. A queen could nob
have made a more royal gesture.

Throughout the scene the Indian mother had not stopped her
knitting.

In four days we were afloat, and the little white fort was
deserted. It was a dark afternoon, and we sal clustered on
the stern of the steaiher, watching the flag coma slowly down
from its staff in token of the departure of the commanding
officer. ' Isle of Beauty, fare thee well,' sang the major's fair
young wife with the sound of tears in her sweet voice.

* We shall return,' said the oiiicers. But not one of them
ever saw the beautiful island again.

Rodney Prescott served a month or two in Florida, ' taciturn
and stiff as ever,' Archie wrote. Then he resigned suddenly,
and went abroad. He has never returned, and I have lost all
trace of him, so that I cannot say, from any knowledge of my
own, how long the feeling lived, — the feeling that swept me
along in its train down to the beach-cottage that wild night.

Each man who reads this can. decide for himself.

Each woman has decided already.

Last year I met an ijlander on the cars going east war X lb
was the first time he had ever been * below' ; but he saw
nothing to admire, that dignified citizen of Mackinac !

' What has become of Jeanuette Leblanc {' I asked.

* Jeaanette ? O, she married that B.iptiste, a lazy, gjod-for-
nothing fellow ? They live in the sauu little c-vbin around tha
point, and pick up a living most anyhow for their tribe of
joung ones.'

^' Are they happy]'
^/ Happy ?' repeated my islander, with a slow stare. ' Well

6 J

J I

Ki. \.%ii

A\ Mil

82 • JEANNETTE.

I suppose they are, after their fashion ; I don't know much
aboTthexn. ^In my opinion, they are a shiftless set, those
I'rench half-breeds round the point.'

THE OLD AGENCY.

•;o:

' The buildings of the United States Indian Agency on the island of
Mackinac were destroyed by fire December 31, at midnight.' — West-

BBN NKW8FAPEK IXBM.

Tiie old bouse is gone thea ! But it shall not depart into
oblivion uncbronicled. One who has sat under its roof4ree,
one who remembera well its rambling rooms and wild garden,
will take the pen to write down a page of its stx)ry. It is only
an episode, one of many ; but the others are fading away, or
already buried in dead memories under the sod. It was a
quaint, picturesque old place, stretching back from the white
limestone road that bordered the little port, its overgrown
garden surroun(^ id by aaa ancient stockade ten feet in height,
with a m^,ssive, slow-swinging gate in front, defended by loop-
holes. This stockade bulged out in some places and leaned in
a,t others ; but the veteran posts, each a tree sharpened to a
point, did not break their ranks, in spite v decrepitude; and
the Indian warriora, could they have returned from their happy
hi^mting-grouuds, would have found the brave old fence of the
Agency a sturdy barrier still. But the Indian wamors could
not return. The United States agent had long ago moved to
Lake Superior, and the deserted residence, having only a myth-
ical vvner, left without rei^airs year after year, and under a
cloud of confusion as regarded taxes, titles, and boundaries,
became a kind of flotsam property, used by various persons, but
belonging legally to no one. Some tenant, tired of swinging
the great gate back and forth, had made a little sally port
alongside, but otherwise the place remained unaltered ; a broad
83

fmnm

THE OLD A^ ENCY.

garden with a central avenue of cuw rry-trees, on each side di-
lapidated arbors, overgrown paths, and heart-shaped beds,
where the first agents had tried to cultivate flowers, and behind
the limestone cliffs crowned with cedars. The house was large
on the ground, with wings and various additions built out as if
at random ; on each side and behind were rough outside chim-
neys clamped to the wall ; in the roof over the central part
dormer-windows showed a low second storey ; and here and
there at intervals were outside doors, in some cases opening
out into space, since the high steps which once led up to them
had fallen down, and remained as they fell, heaps of stones on
the ground below. Within were suites of rooms, large and
small, showing traces of workmanship elaborate for such a
remote locality ; the ceilings, patched with rough mortar, had
been originally decorated with moulding, the doora were orna-
mented \ nth. scroll-work, aiid the two large apartments on each
side of t le entraDo-e-hall i)osses8ed chimney-pieces and central
hooks for chandeliers. Beyond and behind stretched out the
wings ; coming to what appeared to be the end of the house on
west, there unexpectedly began a new series of rooms turning
to the north, each with its outside door ; looking for a cor-
responding labyrinth on the eastern side, there was nothing but
a blank wall. The blind stairway went up in a kind of dark
well, and once up it was a difficult matter to get down without
a plunge from top to bottom, since the undefended opening was
just where no one would expect to find it. Sometimes an angle
was so arbitarily walled up that you felt sure there must be a
secret chamber there and furtively rapped on the wall to catch
the hollow echo within. Then again you opened a door, ex-
pecting to step into the wilderness of a garden, and found your-
self in a set of little rooms running off on a tangent, one after
the other, and ending in a windowless closet and an open cis-
tern. But the Agenc_y gloried in its irregularities, and defied
criticism. The original idea of its architect — if there was any
— had vanished ; but his work remained a not unpleasing va-
riety to summer visitors accustomed to city houses, all built
with a definite purpose, and one front door.

After some years of wandering in foreign lands, I returned
to my own country, and took up the burden of old associations
whose sadness time had mercifully softened. The summer was
over ; September had begun, but there came to me a great wish

THE OLD AGENCY.

to see Mackinac once more ; to look again u]x>n the little white
fort where I had lived with Archie, my soldier nephew killed
at Shiloh. The steamer took me safely across Lake Erie, up the
brimming Detroit River, through the enchanted region of the
St. Clair flats, and out into broad Lake Huron ; there, off Thun-
der Bay, a gale met us, and for hours we swayed between life
and death.

The season for pleasure travelling was over ; my fellow-pass-
engers, with one exception, were of that class of Americans who
dressed in cheap imitations of fine clothes, are foiever travell-
ing, travelling, — taking the steamers not from preference, but
because they are less costly than an all-rail route. The thin,
listless men, in ill-fitting black clothes and shining tall hats, sat
on the deck in tilted chairs hour after hour silent and dreary ;
the thin listless women, clad in raiment of many colors, remain-
ed on the fixed sofas in the cabin hour after hour, silent and
weary. At meals they ate indiscriminately everything within
range, but continued the same, a weaiy, dreary, silent band.
The one exception was an old man, tall and majestic, with sil-
very hair and bright, dark eyes, dresced in the garb of a Roman
Catholic priest, albeit slightly tinged with frontier innovations.
He came on board at Detroit, and as soon as we were under
way he exchanged his hat for a cloth cap embroidered with In-
dian bead-work ; and when the cold air, precursor of the gale,
struck us on Huron, he wrapped himself in a large ca^yote made
of skins, with the fur inward.

In times of danger formality drops from us. During those
long hours, when the next moment might have brough death,
this old man and I were together ; and when at laat the cold
dawn came, and the disabled steamer slowly ploughed through
the angiy water around the point, and showed us Mackinaw in
the distance, we discovered that the island was a mutual friend,
and that we knew each other, at least by name ; for the silver-
haired j)riest was Father Piret, the heimit of the Chenaux. In
the old days, when I was living at the little white fort, 1 had
known Fathtsr Piret by reputation, and he had heard of md
from the Frencli half-breeds aroimd the point. We landed.
The summer hotels were closed, and I was directed to the old
Agency, M'^here occasionally a boarder was received by the
family then in possession. The air was chilly, and a fine rain
was falling, the afterpiece of the equinoctial , the wet storm-

THE OLD AGENCY.

i
I

flag hung heavily down over the fort on the height, and the
waves came in sullenly. All was in sad accordance with my
feelings as I thought of the past and it^s dead, while the slow
tears of age moistened my eyes. But the next morning Mack-
inac awoke, robed in autumn splendor ; the sunshine poured
down, the straits sparkled back, the forest glowed in scarlet,
the larches waved their wild, green hands, the fair-weather flag
floated over the little fort, and all was aa joyous as though no
one had ever died ; and indeed it i» in glorious days like these
that we best realize immortality. '

I wandered abroad through the gay forest to the Arch, the
Lovers' Loap, and old Fort Holmes, whose British walls bad been
battered down for pastime, so that only a caved-in British cellar
remained to mark the spot. Returning to the Agency, I learned
that Father Piret had called to see me.

* I am sorry that I missed him,' I said ; ' he is a remarkable
old man.'

The circle at the dinner-table glanced up with one accord.
The little minister with the surprised eyes looked at me mcwe
surprised than ever ; his large wife groaned audibly. The Bap-
tist colporteur peppered his potatoes until they and the plate
were black ; the Pi-esbyterian doctor, who was the champion of
the Protestant party on the island, wished to know if I was
acquainted with the latest devices of the Scarlet Woman in re-
lation to the county school-fund.

* But my friends,' I replied, ' Father Piret and I both belong
to the past. We discuss not religion, but Mackinac ; not the
school-fund, but the old associations of the island, which is dear
to both of us.'

The four looked at me with distrust ; they saw nothing dear
about the island, unless it was the price of fresh meat ; and as
to old associations, they held themselves above such nonsense.
So, one and all, they took beef and enjoyed a season of well-
regulated conversation, leaving me to silence and my broiled
white-fish ; as it was Friday, no doubt they thought the latter
a rag of popery.

Very good rags.

But my hostess, a gentle little woman, stole away from these
bulwarks of Protestantism in the late afternoon, and sought me
in my room, or rather series of rooms, since there were five
opening one out of the other, the last three unfurnished, and

THE OLD AGENCY.

all the doorless dooi-ways staring at me like so many fixed eyes,
until, oppressed by their silent watchfulness, I hung a shawl
over the first opening and shut out the whole gazing suite.

* You must not think, Mrs. Oorlyne, that we islanders do
not appreciate Father Piret,' said the little woman, who be-
longed to one of the old island families, descendants of a chief
factor of the fur trade. * There has been some feeling lately
against the Catholics — '

* Roman Catholics, my dear,' I said with Anglican particu-
larity.

* But we all love and respect the dear old man as a father.'

* When I was living at the fort, fifteen years ago, I hoard
occasionally of Father Piret,' I said, ' but he seemed to be almost
u mythic personage. What is his history 1'

* No one knows. He cam here fifty years ago, and after
officiating on the island a few years, he retired to a little Indian
farm in the Chenaux, where he has lived ever since. Occasion-
ally he holds a service for the half-breeds at Point St. Ignace,
but the parish of Mackinac proper has its regular priest, and
Father Piret apparently does not hold even the appointment of
missionary. Why he remains here — a man educated, refined,
and even aristocratic — is a mystery. He seems to be well pro-
vided with money ; his little house in the Chenaux contains
foreign books and pictures, and he is very charitable to the
poor Indians. But he keeps himself aloof, and seems to desire
no intercourse with the world beyond his letters and papers,
which come regularly, some of them from France. He seldom
leaves the Straits ; he never speaks of himself; always he ap-
pears as you saw him, carefully dressed and stately. Each
summer when he is seen on the street, there is more or less
curiosity about him among the summer visitors, for he is quite
unlike the rest of us Mackinac people. But no one can dis-
cover anything more than I have i^ld you, and those who 'have
persisted so far as to sail over to the Chenaux either lose their
way among the channels, or if they find the house, they never
find him ; the door is locked, and no one answers.'

* Singular,' I said. * He has nothing of the hermit about
him. He has what I should call a courtly manner.'

* That is it,' replied my hostess, taking up the word ; ' some
say he came from the French court, — a nobleman exiled for
political ofienees ; others think he is a priest under the ban ;

IPH

mgm

THE OLD AGENCY.

and there in still a thiid istory, to the effect that he is a French
count, who, owing to a disapi^ointment in love, took oiders and
came to this far-away island, so that he might seclude hinjself
forever from the world.*

* But no one really knows V

' Absolutely nothing. He is beloved }jy all the real old
island families, whether they are of his faith or not; and when
lie dies the whole Strait, from Bois Blanc light to far Waugos-
chance, will mourn for him.*

At sunset the Father came again to see me ; the front door
of my room was open, and we seated ourselves on the piazza
outside. The roof of bark thatch had fallen away, leaving the
bare beams o"v crhead twined with brier-roses ; the floor and
Jbouse side were frescoed with those lichen colored spots which
Bhow that the gray plunks have lacked paint for many long
years ; the window ti Lad wooden shutters fastened back with
irons shaped like the letter S, and on the central door was a
"brass knocker, and a pl*i+e bearing the words, * United States
Agency.'

' When I first came to the island,', said Father Piret, 'this
was the residence par excelle^ice. The old house was brave with
^'een and white paint then ; it had candelabra on its high
mantles, brass andirons on its many hearthstones, curtains for
all its little windows, and carpets for all its uneven floors.
3luch cooking went on, and smoke curled up from all these
outside chhnneys. Those were tln' days of the fur trade and
JVlackinac was a central mart. Hither twice a year came the
bateaux from the Northwest, loaded with furs ; and in those
old, decaying w arehouses on the back street of the village were
stored the goo^ls sent ut from New York, with which the
bateaux were loaded again, and p,fter a few days of revelry,
during which the improvident voyagers squandered all their
lard-eanied gains, the train returned westward into * the
countries,' as they called the wilderness beyond the lakes, for
another six months of toil. The officers of the little fort on the
lieight, the chief factors of the On- company, a^d the United
Btatcs Indian agent, formed the feudal aristocracy of the island ;
but the agent had the most imposing mansion, and often have
I seen the old hoiise shining with lights af-voss its whole broad-
pide of windows, and gay with the sound of a dozen French
ttolins. The garden, now a wilderness, was the pride of the

THE OLD AGENCY.

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island. Its prim arlKH-s, its spring and spring-houst* its flower-
beds, where, with infinite pains, i few hardy plants were iii-
diixied to blossom ; its cheny-tree avenue, whose earlj r« 1 fmit
the short summer could scarcely rii>en ; its annual attempts at
vegetables, which nevti came to matui-ity, — fomied topics for
convei'sation in court circles. Potatoes then as now were left
to the mainland Indians, who came over with their canoe»
heaped with th< line, large thin-jacketed fellows, bartering
them all for a loaf or two of bread and a little whiskey.

* The stockad* which surrounds the place was at that day a
not unnecessary defence. At i.io time of the payments the
island swarmed vs ith Indians, who came from Lake Superior
and the Northwi^st, to receive the government pittance.
Camped on the beach as ta as the eye could reach, these wild
wamors, dressed in all their savage finery, watched the Agency
with greedy eyes, as they waited ^or their turn. The great
gate was barred, and bcntinels stood at the loopholes with
loaded muskets; one by one tue chiefs were admitted, staked
up to the office, — that wing on the right, — received the allotted
Bum, silently selected something from the displayed go(^>Js and
as siletitly departed, watched by quick eyes, until the great gate
closea behind them. The guns of the fort were placed so as to
command the Agency during payment time ; and when, after
several anxious, watchful days and nights, the last brave had
received his portion and the last canoe started away toward
the north, leaving only the comparatively peaceful main-
land Indians behind, the island drew a long breath of relief.'

* Was there any real danger !' I asked.

' The Indians are ever treacherous.' replied the Father. Then
he was silent, and seemed lost in revery. The pure, ever-present
breeze of Mackinac played in his long silvery hair, and his
bright eyes roved along the wall of the old house ; he haa a
broad forehead, noble features, and commanding presence, and
as he sat there, recluse as he was, — aged, alone, without a his-
tory, with scarcely a name or a place in the world, — ^he looked,
in the power of his native-bom dignity, worthy of a royal coro-
net.

* I was thinking of old Jacques,' he said, after a long pause.

* He once lived in these rooms of yours, and died on that
bench at the end of the piazza, sitting in the sunshine, with his
Btaff in his hand.'

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THE OLD AaENOY.

< Who was he V I asked. ' Tell me the story, Father.'

* There is not much to tell, madame ; but in my mind he is
flo associated with this old house, that I always think of him
when I come here, and fancy I see him on that bench.

'When the United States agent removed to the Apostla,
Islands, at the western end of Lake Superior, this place remain-
ed for some time uninhabited. But one winter morning smoke
was seen coming out of that great chimney on the side ; andi
in the course of the day several curious persons endeavored to
open the main gate, at that time the only entrance. But the
gate was barred within, and as the high stockade was slippery,
with ice, for some days the mysiery remained unsolved. The
islanders^ always slow, grow torpid in the wintw like bears ;
they watched uhe smoke in the daytime and the little twink-
ling light by night ; they talked of spirits both French and
Indian as they wenttheir rounds, but they were too indolent to
do more. At length the fort commandant hea/d of the smoke,
and saw the light from his quarters on the height. As govern-
ment property, he considered the Agency under his charge, and
he was preparing to send a detail of men to examine the de-
serted mansion in its ice-bound garden, when its mysterious
occupant appearec?. in the village; it was an old man, sjlent,
gentle, apparently French. He carried a canvas bag, and
bought a few supplies ot' the coarsest description, as though he
was very poor. Unconscious of observation, he made hig, pur-
chases and returned slowly homeward, barring the jjreat gate^
behind him. Who was he ? No one knew. Whence and'
when came he ? No one could telL

' The detail of soldiers from the fort battered at the gate, am
when the silent old nmn opened it they followed him througl*
the garden, where his feet had made a lonely trail over the
deep snow, round to the side door. They entered, and found
some blankets on the floor, a fii*e of old knots on the hearth, a
long narrow box tied with a rope ; his poor little supplies stood
in one corner, — bread, salted fish, and a few potatoes, — Hiud over
the fire hung a rusty tea-kettle, its many holes carefully plug-
ged with bits of rag. It was a desolate scene ; the old man i^
the great rambling empty house in the heart of an arctic winter.
He said little, and the soldiers could not understand his
language ; but they left hira unmolested, and going back to the
fort, they told what they had seen. Then the major went in,

THE OLD A.GENCY.

person to the Agency, and gathered from the stranger's words
that he had come to the island over the ice in the ti'ack of thd
mail^carrier } that he was an emigi'ant from. France on his way
to the Red River of the North, but his strength failing, o'smg
to the intense cold, he had stopped at the island, and seeing the
uninhabited house, he had crept into it, as he hod not enough
money to pay for u lodging elsewhere He seemed a quiet in-
offensive old man, and after all the islanders had had a good
long slow stare at him he was left in peace, with his little curl-
ing smoke by day and his little t"^ /inkling light by night;,
although no one thought of assisting him ; there is a strange
coldness of heart in these northern latitudes.

* 1 was then living at the Chenaux ; there was a Gennan
priest on the island ; I sent over two half breeds every ten days
for the mall, and through them I heard of the singer at the
Agency. He was French, they said, and it was rumored in
tlie saloons along the frozen docks that he hrd seen Paria
This warmed my heart : for, madame, I spent my youth iu
Paris, — ^the dear, the beautiful city ! Bo I came over to the
island in my dog-sledge ; a little thing is an event in our longy
long winter. I reached the village in the afternoon twilight*
ftud made my way alone to the Agency ; the old man no longer
barred his gate, and swinging it open with difficulty, I followed
the trail through the snowy silent g£u^n round to the side of
this wing, — ihe wing you occupy. I knocked ; he opened ; I
greeted him and entered. He had tried to furnish his little
room with the broken relics of the deserted dwelling j a mende''
chair, a stool, a propped-up table, a shelf with two or three bat-
tered tin dishes, and some straw in one corner compiised the
whole equipment, but the floor was clean, the old dishes pol-
ished, and the blankets neatly spread over the straw which
formed the bed. On the table the supplies weie ranged ii^
order ; there was a careful pile of knots on one side of the
hearth, and the fire was evidently husbanded to last as long an
possible. He gave me the mended chair, lighted a candle-end
stuck m a bottle, and then seating himself on the stool, he
gazed at me in his silent way until I felt like an uncourteous in-
truder. I spoke to himi in French, offered my services ; in shoi't)
I did my best to break down the barrier of his reserv^p ; there
was something pathetic in the little room and. its lonely oc-

THE OLD AGENCY.

cupant, and, besides, T knev.- from his acceBt that we were both
from the banks of the Seine.

* Well, 1 heard his story, — not then, but pfteiward ; it came
out gradually during the eleven months of our acquainiance ;
ioT he became mj friend, — almost the only friend of fifty yeai-s.
I am an isolated man, madame. It must be so. God's will be
done !

; The Father paused, and looked off "Over the darkening water ;
he did not sigh, neither was his calm brow clouded, but there
■was in his face what seemed to me a noble resignation, and I
have ever since felt sure that the secret of his exile held in it a
eelf-Facrifice ; for only self sacrifice can produce that divine
expression.

Out in the straits shone the low-down green light of a
schooner ; beyond glimmered the mast head star of a steamer,
with the line of cabin lights below, and away on the point of
Bois Blanc gleamed the steady radiance of the lighthouse
showing the way to Lake Huron ; the broad overgrown garden
cut us off from the village, but above on the height we could
Bee thfc lighted windows ol the foit, although still the evening
gky retained that clear hue that seems so much like daylight
when one looks aloft, although the earth lies in dark shadow
below. The Agency was growing indistinct ev to our near
eyes ; it« white chimneys loomed up like ghosts, the shutters
sighed in the breeze, and the planks of the piazza creaked
causelessly. The old house was full of the spirits of memories,
and at twilight they came abroad and bewailed themselves.

* The place is haunted,' I said, as a distant door groaned
drearily,

' Yes,' replied Father Piret, coming out of his absti-action,

* and this wing is haunted by my old French friend. As time
passed and the spring came, he fitted up in his fashion the
whole suite of five rooms. He had his parlor, sleeping room,
kitchen and store-room, the whole furnished only with the
tti-ticles I have ali-eady described, save that the bed was of fresh
green boughs instead of straw. Jacques occupied all the rooms
"'vith ceremonious exactness ; he sat in the parlor, and too I must
bit there when I came ; in the second loom he slept and made
his careful tc»ilet, with his shabby old clothes ; the third was
his kitchen and dining-room ; and the fourth, that little closet
on the right, was his store-room. His one indulgence was

THE OLD AGENCY.

coflfee ; coffee he must and would have, though he slept on
straw and went without meat. But he cooked to perfection ia
hu odd way, and I have of l;en eaten a dainty meal in that little
kitchen, sitting at the propped-up table, using the battered tin
dishes, and the clumsy wooden s{»oon^ faahioned with a jack*
knife. After we had become . friends Jacques would accept
occasional aid from me, and it gave me a warm pleasure to
think that I had added something to his comfort, were it only
a little sugar, butter, or a pint of milk. No one disturbed the
old man ; no orders came from Washington respecting the
Af»ency property, and the major had not the heart to order him
away. There were more than houses enough for the scanty
population of the island, and only a magnate could furnish
these large rambling rooms. So the soldiers were sent down
to pick the red cherries for the use of the garrison , but other-
wise Jacques had the whole place to himself, with all its wiilgSi
outbuildings, arbors, and garden beds.

' But I have not told you all. The fifth apartment in the
suite — the square room with four windows and an outside door
— was the old man's sanctuary , here were his precious relics,
and here he offered up his devotions, half Christian, half pagcn,
with never-failing ardor. From the long narrow box which
the fort soldiers had noticed came an old sabre, a worr. <:^nd
faded uniform of the French grenadiers, a little dried sprig, it3
two with ev 3d leaves tied in their places with thread, and a
coarse woodcit of the great Napoleon ; for Jacques was a sol-
dier of the Empire. The uniform hung on the wall, carefully
arranged on peg's as a man would wear it, and the sabre was
brandished from the empty sleeve as though a hand held it ',
the woodcut framed in green, renewed from day to day, pine in
the winter, maple in the summer occupied the opposite side,
and under it v/as fastened the tin) dthered sprig, while on the
floor below was a fragment of buffalo-skin which served the
soldier for a stool when he knelt in prayer. And did he pray
to Napoleon, you ask ? I hardly know. He had a few of the
Church's prayers by heart, but his mind was full of the Emperor
as he repeated them,, and his eyes were fixed upon the picture
as though it was the face of a saint. Discovering this, I
labored hard to bring him to a clearer understanding of the
faith ; but all in vain. He listened patiently, even reverently,
although I was much the younger; at intervals he replied.

THE OLD AGENCY.

^ Oai, mon p6re,' and the next day he said his prayera to the
dead Emperor as uftual. A»d this was not the worst ; in place
^M an aniticn, thsre ^^me a fierce imprecation against the whole
rEnglisb nation. After some months I suooeeded in persuading
jiim to abandon this tei^ination ; but I always su^vected that
j(t was but a verbal Abandonment, and that, mentally, the ourse
rtras as strong as ever.

• / Jaoquee had been a soldier of the Bimpire, as it is called,—
B gl"eoadier under Napcrieon ; he had loved his Oeneral and
Emperor in life, and adored him in death with the aitectionate
ipdrtinacity of a faithful dog. One hot day daring the German,
campaign, Napoleon, engaged in conference with some of his
generals, was disturbed by the uneasy movements of his horse ;
booking around for some one to brush away the flies, he saw
Jacques, who stood at a short distance watching his Emperoi"
with admirii]g eyes. Always quick to recognize the personal
affection he inspired. Napoleon signed to the grenadier to ap-
proach. ' Here, mon brave,' he said, smiling ; * get a branch
'*iid keep the flies frcnn my horse a few moments.* The proud
.BCidier obeyed ; he heard the conversation of the Emperor ; he
•kept the flies from his horse. As he talked, Napoleon idly
plucked a little sprig from the branch as it came neai- his hand,
and played with it ; and when, the conference over, with a nod
•of thanks to Jacques, he rode . away, the grwiadier stopped,
picked up the sprig fresh from the Emperor's hand and placed
It carefully in his broast-pocket. The Emperor had noticed
him ; the fimperor had called him ' mon brave' ; the Emperor
I had smiled upon him. This was the glory of Jacques's life.
; How many times have I listened to the story, told always in
-the same words, with the same gestures in the same places I

He remembered every sentence of the conversation he had
heard, and repeated them with automatic fidelity, understand-
ing nothing of their meaning ; even when I explained their
probable oonneetion with the campaign, my words made no im-
pression upon him, and I could see that they conveyed no idea
ito his mind. Tie was made for a soldier ; brave and calm, he
reasoned not, but simply obeyed, and to this blind obedience
there was added a heart full of e,ffection which, when ocnoen-
trated upon the Emperor, amounted to idolatry. Napoleon

• poss^sed a singulur personal power ov^er hia soldiers ; they all
- loved him, but Jacques adored him.

THE OLD AGENCV;

96*

* It was an odd, affectionate animal,' said Father Piret, drop-
ping unconsciously into a French idiom to express his meaning,

.^The little sprig had been kept as a talisman, and no saintly
'relic was ever more honored ; the Emperor had touched it !

' Grenadier Jacques made one of the iil-fatcd Kussian army,
and, although woitnded and suffering, he still endured until the
capture ox Paiis. Then, when Napoleon retired to Elba, he
fell sick from grief, nor did he I'ecover until the En |)eror re-
turned, when, with thousands of other soldiers, our Jacques
hastened to his standard, and the hundred days began. Then
came Waterloo. Then came St. Helena. But the grenadier
lived on in hope, year after year, until the Emperor died, —
died in exile, in the hands of the hated English. Broken-
hearted, weary of the sight of his native land, he packed hi»
few possessions, and fled away over the ocean, with a vague
idea of joining a French settlement on the Red River ; I have
always supposed it riust be the Red River of the South ; there
are French there. But the poor soldier was very igi:orant f
some one directed him to these frozen regions, and he set out ;
all places were alike to him now that the Emperor had gone
from earth. Wandering as far as Mackinac on his blind pil-
grimage, Jacques found his strength tailing, and crept into thi»
deserted house to die. Recovering, he made for himself a habi-
tation from a kind < ^f instinct, as a beaver might have done.
He g;;\thered together the wrecks of furniture, he hung up his
treasures, he had his habits for every hour of the day ; soldier-
like, everything was done by rule. At a particular hour it
was his custom to sit on that bench in the sunshine, wrapped
in his blankets in the winter, in summer with his one old coat
carefully hung on that peg ; I can Bee him before me now. On
certain days he would wash his few poor clothes, and hang
them out on the bushes to dry ; then he would patiently mend
them with his great bi'ass thimble and coarse thread. Poor old
garments ! they were covered with awkward patches.

* At noon he would prepare his one meal ; for his breakfast
and supper were but a cup of coffee. Slowly and with the
greatest caie the materials were prepared and the cooking
watched. There was a savor of the camp, a savor of the Paris
caf6, and a savor of originality ; and often, wearied with the
dishes pi*epared by my half-breeds, I have come over to the
island to dine with Jacques, for the old soldier was proud of

THE OLD AGENCY.

his skill, and liked an appreciative guest And I — But it ia
not my story to tell.'

* O Father Piret, if you could but — '
' Thanks, madame. To others T sj^y, " What would you 1 I

have been here since youth ; you know my lite," But to you
I say there was a past j brief, full, crowded into a few years ;
but I cannot tell it ; my lips are sealed ! Again thanks for
your sympathy, madame. And row I will go back to Jacques.

* We were comrades, he and I ; he would not come over to
the Chenaux ; he was unhappy if the routine of his day was
disturbed, but I often stayed a day with him at tne Agency, fpr
I too liked the silent house. It has its relics, by the way.
Hav6 you noticed a carved door in the back part of the main
building ? That was brought from the old chapel on the main-
land, built as early as 1700. The whole of this locality is
. sacred ground in the history of our Church. It was first visited

by our missionaiies in 1670, and over at Point St. Ignace the
dust which was once the mortal body of Father Marquette lies
buried. The exact site of the grave is lost ; but we know thav>
in lb77 his Indian converts brought back his body, wrapped in
birch-bark, from the eastern shore of Lake Michi^^an, where he
died, to his beloved mission of St. Ignace. There he was buiied
in a vault under the little log-churcL Some years later the
spot was abando led, and the resident priests returned to Mon-
treal. We have another little Indian church there now, and
thp! point is forever consecrated by its unknown grave. At
various times I told Jacques the history of this strait, — its
islands, and points ; but ho evinced little interest. He listened
with some attention to my account of the battle which took
place on Dousman's farm, not far from the British Landing ;
but when he found that the English were victorious, he mut-
tered a great oath and refused to hear more. To him the English
were fiends incarnate. Had they not slowly murdered his
Emperor on their barren rock in the sea 1

* Only once did I succeed in interesting the old soldier. Then,
as now, I received twice each year a package of foreign pamph-

lets and papers

among

them came, that summer, a German

ballad, written by that strange being, Henri Heine. I give it
to you in a later English translation : —

THE OLD AGENCV.

THE GRENADIERS.

To the land of France went two grenadieia,

From a Russian prison returning ;
But thtiy hung down their heads on the German frontiers,

The news from their fatherland learning.

For there they both heard the sorrowful tale,

That France was by fortune forsaken ;
That her mighty army was scattered like hail,

And the Emperor, the Emperor taken,

Then there wept together the grenadiers.

The sorrowful story learning ;
And one said, "O woe !" as the news he hears,

*' Hov7 I feel my old wound burnintj !"

The other said, " The song is sung,

And I wish that we both were dying !
But at home I've a wife and a child,— they're young,

On me, and mo only, relying. "

it hai

" what is a wife or a chil<^P me !

Deeper wants all my spirit have shaken
Let them beg, let them beg, should they hungry be I

My Emperor, my Emperor taken !

But I beg you, brother, if by chance

You soon shall see me dying
Then take my corpse with you back to France

Let it ever in France be lying.

** The cross of honor with crimson band
Shall rest on my heart as it bound me ;

Give me iny musket in my hand,
And buckle my sabre around me.

"And there I will lie and listen still

In ray sentry cofi&n staying,
Till I feel the thundering cannon's thrill

And horses tramping and neighing.

" Then my Emperor will ride well over my grave

'Mid sabres' bright slashing and fighting
And I'll rise all weaponed out of my grave,
For the Emperor, the Emperor fighting 1"

THE OLD AGENCY.

* This simple ballad wont straight to the heart of old Jacques ;
tears rolled down his cheeks as I read, and he would have it
over and over again. ^Ah I that comrade was happy/ said
the old grenadier. *//e died when the Emperor was only
take<>i. I too would have gone to my grave smiling, could I
have thpught that my Emperor would come liding over it with
all his army around him again ! But he s dead, — ^my Emperor
is dead ! Ah ! that comrade was a happy man ; he died ! He
did not have to stand by while ' the Ehglish—ij, ay they be for-
ever cursed ! — slpwly, slowly murdered him, — murdered the
great Napoleon ! No ; that comrade died. Perhaps he is Avith
the Emperor now, — that comrade-grenadier.'

* To be with his Emperor was Jacques's ide^, of heaven.

* From that moment each time I visited the Agency I must
repeat the verses again and again > thpy became a sort of hymn.
Jacques had not the capacity to learn the ballad, although he
so often listened to it, bui the seventh Verse he nmi^ijiged to re-
peat after a.:^14on of his own, .setting it to a npndeacript tune,
and crooning it about the house as he came and went on his
little rounds. Gradually he altered the words, but I goujd not
make out the new phrases as he miittfereid them over to himself,
as if trying (them.

' What is it you are saying, Jacques]' I asked.

* But he would not tell me. After a time I discovered that
he had added the altered verse to his prayers ;' for always when
I was at the Agency I went witJa him to the panctuary,. if for
no other purpose than to prevent the uttered imprecation that
served as amen for the whole. The verse, whatever itj was,
came in before this.

' So the summer parsed. The vague intention of going ;on to
the Red River of the North had faded away, a&d Jkcqucs lived
along on the island as though he had never lived anywhere else.
He grew wonted to the Agendy, lik^e'sctoe old famSyciti until
he seemed to belong to, the house, and all ihongjit of cjiatqrbing
him was forgotten. * There is Jacqvies out washing hisclothes.'
' There is Jacques going to buy his coffee,' * There is T,^«quea
sitting on the 'piazza;' said tihe islandei^ ; the p^d in^ji served
them instead of a clock.

' One dark autumh day I came over fi-om the Ghenauxito get
the mail. The water was rough, and my boat, tilted far over
on one side, skimmed the crests of thi waves in the daring

■CtlVtiB ••■*!'0

THE OLD AGENCY.

91).

fashion peculiar to the Mackinac craft ; the mail-steamer had
not come in, owilig to the storm oiitHide, and I weiit on to the
Agency to see Jacques. He seenv^d as usual, and we had
dinner over the little fire, for the day was chilly; the meal
over, my host put everything in order again in his methodical
way, and then retired to his sanctuary for prayera. I followed,
and stood in the doorway while he knelt. The roonif was dusky,
and the uniform with its outstretched sabre looked like a dead
Boldier leaning against the wall ; the face of Nafwleon opposite
seemed to gaze down on Jacques as ho knelt, as though listen-
iogilt;., Jacques muttered his prayei-s, and I iesix)nded Ameji4<i
then, afte/ a silence, came the altered verse ; then, with a quick: -
glance toward me, another silence, which I felt sure contained
the imspoken curse. Gi*avely he led the way back to the '
kitchen — for, owing to the cold, he allowed me to dispense with
the parlor, — and tl.ere we spent the afternoon togethe?*, talking^ •
and watching for the mail-boat. 'Ja/oques,' I said, * what is >
that vei-se you have added to your prayers 1 Come, my friend,' '
why should you keep it from me f i

* It is notlung, mon p6re, — nothing,' he replied. But again
I urged liim to tell me ; more to pass away the time tha^i- from
any real interest. * Come,' I said, * it may be your last chance.
Who knows but that I mtiy be drowned on my way back to-
thejChenaux I' .

' True,' replied the old soldier calndy. .^ Well, then, here it
is, n^on p^re : my death-wish. Voili !' .

* fcJomething you wish to have done after death V
VYes.'

' And who is to do it ]' .
'My Emperor.'

* But, Jacques, the Emj)eror is dead.'

*,He will have done it all the same, mon p^re.' -, < j

* In, vain I ai*gued ; Jacques was calmly obstinate. He had
mixed up his Emperor with the stories of the Saints ; why
should not Napoleon do what they had done 1 .

' What is the verse, any way ]* I said at last.

* It is my death-wish, as I said before, mon p6re.' And he
repeated the following. He said it in French, for I had given
him a French translation, as he knew nothing of German ; but
1 will give you the English, as he had altered it : —

%■

.ti

100

THE old: AGENCY.

* The Emperor's face with its green leaf baud
Shall rest ou my heart that loved him so.
Give me the sprig ui my dead hand,
My uniform and sabre around me.

Amen. '

' So prays Grenadier Jacques.

' The old soldier had sacrificed the smooth metre ; but I im>
derstood what he meant.

' The storm increased, and I Bi)ent the night at the Agency,
lying on the bed of boughs, covered with a blanket. The house
shook in the gale, the shutters rattled, and all the flooiti near
and far creaked as though leet were walking over them. I was
wakeful and restless, but Jacques slept quietly, and did not stir
until daylight btoke over the stormy water, showing the ships
scuddinjjj; by under bare poles, and the distant mail-boat labor-
ing up toward the island thiough the heavy sea. My host
made his toilet, washing and shaving himself carefully, and
putting on his old' clothes as though going on parade. Then
came breakia^st, with a stew added in honor of my presence ;
and as by this time the steamer was not far from Kound Island,
I started down toward the little post-oflice, anxious to receive
some expected letters. The steamer came in slowly, the mail
was distributed slowly, and I sto})ped to read my letters before
returning. 1 had a picture-paper for Jacques, and as I looked
out acioss the straits, I saw that the storm was over, and de-
cided to return to theChenauxin the afternoon, leaving word with
my half-breeds to have the sail-boat in readiness at three o'clock.
The sun was throwing out a watery gleam as, after the lapse of
an hour or two, I walked up the limestone road and entered
the great gate of the Agency. As 1 came through the garden
along the cherry-tree avenue 1 saw Jacques sitting on that
bench in the sun, for this was his hour for sunshine j his staff
was in his hand, and he was leaning back against the side of
the house with his eyes closed, as if in revery. * Jacques, here
is a pictuie-paper for you,' 1 ^aid, laying my hand on his shoul-
der. He did not answer. He was dead.

' Alone, sitting in the sunshine, apparently without a struggle
or a pang, the soul of the old soldier had departed. Whither 1
We know not. But — smile il' you will, tnadame — I tnist he is-
with his Emperor.'

m
h:

THE OLD AGENCY.

101

I did not Binile ; my eyes were too full of teai-s.

* I buried bim, as he -wisbed,' continued Father Piret, 'in his
old uniform, with the picture of Napoleon laid on his breast,
the sabre by his side, and the withered sprig in his lifeless
hand. He lies in our little cemetery on the height, near the
ehadow of the great cross ; the low white board tablet at the
head of the mound once bore the words (jrenadier Jacques,'
but the rains and the snows have washed away the painted let-
ters. It is as well.'

The priest paubed, and we both looked toward the empty
bench, as though we saw a figure seated there, staft in hand.
After a time my little hostess came out on to the piazza, and
we all talked together of the island and its past. ' My boat is
waiting,' said father Piret at length ; the wind is fair, and I
must return to the Chenaux to-night. This near departure is
my excuse lor coming twice in one day to see you, madame/

* Stay over, my dear sir,' 1 urged. * I too shall leave in
another day. We may not meet again.'

* Not on earth ; but in another world we may,' answei-ed the
priest rising as he spoke.

* Father, your blessing,' said the little hostess in a low tone,
after a quick glance toward the many windows through which
the bulwarks of Protestanism might be gazing. But all was
dark, both without and within, and the Father gave his bless-
ing to both of us, fervently, but with an apostolic simplicity.
Then he left us, and I watched his tall form, crowned with sil-
very hair, as' he passed down the cherry-tree avenue. Later in
the evening the moon came oiit, and I saw a Mackinac boat
skimming by the house, its white sails swelling full in the fresh
breeze.

* That is Father Piret's boat,' said my hostess. * The wind
is fair ; he will reach the Chenaux befoie midnight.'

A day later, and I too sailed away. As the steamer bore me
southward, I looked back toward the island with a sigh. Half
hidden in its wild green garden I saw the old Agency ; first I
could distinguish its whole rambling length ; then I lost the
roofless piazza, then the dormei -windows, and finally I could
only discern the white chimneys, with their crumbling crooked
tops. The sun sank into the Strait ofi" Waugoschance, the
evening gun flashed from the little fort on the height, the
ehadows grew dark and darker, the island turned into green

102i

THE OLD AGENG¥.i

foliage, then a blue outline, and finally theue was iiotlmijj bit
thedusky water.

,1 ' •*

; I i

'*■• , J

-i^Ueip^Ml,.

PATIENCE DOW.

Blf MARIAN DOTOIAS.

^T//""" *** "»"I came Patience Dow*
^d .'^ °«l'^«Me would not^LiT

^ • ?»°* ■' » «»Pti'e hawk

^e sat with folded handf all day,

'^^^^.^'-^.W tangled dow;
«er sad eyei» ga^iing far away,

Where, paat the fields, a silvei line
|.e saw the^distant ri;,r .shi^e. '

toe* J^.*^ *^'™«''* he«elf alone,
„^s^n«d the^eaet ^dCte^ „^, ,

.|^'^^i"°7 k" io^ed me once- ' -
"6 does not loTO me now!*

ASdte'r^V"^'^"''«'~<'»J

A^:7^tt7Sn1t^

Across a field of summer ««S '

^»^-.

104

PATIENCE DOW.

! '•

Down which the cattle went to drink
In summer, from the river's brink.

" The river ! Hope within them sank ;
The fatal thought that drew her there
They knew, before, among the rank,
White-blossomed weeds upon the bank,
They found the shawl she used to wear.
And on it pinned a Httle note :

** Oh, blame me not !" it read, " for when
I once am free, my soul will float
To him ! He cannot leave me then !
I know not if 't is right or wrong — .
I go fiom life — I care not how ;
I only know he loved me once —
He does not love me now !"

rr"

"^ir.

In the farm graveyard, 'neath the black,
Funereal pine-trees on the hill,
The poor, worn form the stream gave back
They laid in slumber, cold and still.
Her secret slept with her ; none knew
Whose fickle smile had left the pain f.
That cursed her life ; to one thought true,
Her vision-haunted, wandering brain,
Secure from all, hid safe from blame,^
In life and death had kept his name.
Yet, often, with a thrill of fear,
Her mother, as she lies awake
At night, will fancy she can hear
A voice, whose tone is like the drear,
Low sound the^ graveyard pine-trees make :
I know not if 't is right or wrong — .
I go from life — I care not how ; '

I only know he loved me once —
He does not love me now !"