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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 32X 1 2 3 4 6 6 BROKEN BONDS. BROKEN BONDS. A PRIZE TEMPERANCE STORY. BY FELIX MAX. Even the Gods themselves c*nnot annihilate the action that is done."— i^nrfar. %^«^«^^^^^ TORONTO : T. MOOBI,, BOOK AND JOB PBINTKB, 8 LBADBB LANB. 1878. 1 •('}-' /{'//:/. J 1*1 i.":r . . ' .. V ■'. f . ' X A )">/ X ; .; rz- ^ liM.' .■.(.- ' . ';/?!i 'i.i" 'Ul&J r-\> / •'■•'-'■if'' 'i -:/.■■<■'' ■■'! i? ;!•■' /'i *>\ui'...rV .'-uof^ .'i )f.,Ji 5 OT'^OW'^T 3.'/.i... Hi».',;jt:.j ' ,ir: cvtiji^' ,.c< ' ti .ti i >r- .1 • « I V < . ■ ' . 1 1 '. • -/ -f BROKEN BONDS. CHAPTEK I. ■'( I . . ' *!. **For there are sorrows where of necessity the soul must be its own support. " — Schiller* s WallemUin, ,,.. Just within the threshold of a wide French window, a young girl was standing. Over the not^far distant lawn were scHttered many groups of brilliantly dressed people. She was not looking at them, however, but at the clouds beyond, which shifting and changing every moment, were drifting over the sky as over a shorelt ss sea. Yet her mind did not seem to be grasping their beauty, for there was a look of perplexity and trouble in her eyes, very different indeed from that earnest, voluntary glance which denotes conscious admiration. -^ - ' ? i // \ jr • •'A gentleman sitting where he could see her face did not long allow her reverie to be uninter- rupted: "What made you get tip from that 6 { * I f I 4 BROKEN BONDS. comfortable seat, Miss Eleanor? You really think we should not stay here any longer ? Now I do not believe there is any place in the world you would like better. Confess that I am right." " It is fortunate for you that Flo is not here to scold you for that egotistic speech, Mr. Stuart. Indeed there are many places I prefer to this, one of which is the croquet ground. You know Flo has arranged a game for us and people are probably gossiping about our being away so long " A faint flush crossed the speaker's face, and a half-mischievous smile for a moment drove away the troubled, perplexed look there. " And so in obedience to social tyranny we must go. But can't you relieve my suspense and give me your answer now ? Say just one word." " " ■-' '■ ^ ' ''■ . :- ■' *».:? ■ .f ; • r-^r ?. '* I cannot Mr. Stuart. I have asked you to wait till to-morrow. . . .You don't want me, m the first moment of bewilderment, to decide thought- lessly, perhaps make a great mistake?". > His cheek flushed : '* Your idea of the motive for my haste should be different from that. I have given you my heart without reserve, and" — Eleanor turned with a quick, impul-ive move- ment, and put her hand on his arm. He grasped it eagerly. " I have faith in you to believe that, and I want to be just as faithiul. But there is Bometiiing else I want to speak about for one moment before we go ; and we must go very soon, for see I there is Flo starting towards the BROKEN BONDS. 0> house. I know she is in search of ns Mr. Stuart will you at the party to-niglit for my sakeclo all you can to keep Edward Ironi taking wine ? Many times I've wanted to ask this of you, but for some reasc»n T never have. This is iny first reauest. I have always thought that you could inauence him if you only would." She btopped short when she saw Mr. Stuart's face. He was looking up at her with a smile in his eyes and thinking : *' What a dear little puritan phe is, so earnest over her pet theories.' Aloud he said : " Eleanor, it won't hurt him. Do let the poor fellow have a little peace. If you are all the time lecturing him, he'll get worse. Wild oats must be sown. This is but one of the in- evitable conditions of our exisU^nce here." ' ' •" " You do not know what he is alieady. The harvest will come only too soon." She turned back to the window again to hide the mist in her eyes. If her companion could have realized that she was speaking of a great shaHow in her life, getting every day heavier and more dark ; that siie was influenced by no ideal prejudice, as he supposed, he might have shown more earnest sympathy. As it was he only said coldly : *' If you wish it I can tell him not to touch anything to-night, though I think it would be useless unless 1 ab- stained myself, and that would be all nonsense. I am not such a fool (I beg your pardon, Eleanor) as to have a mere glass of port or sherrjr affect BBOKEN B02«DS. me unfavourably to my position as a gentleman, but if it does your brother he had certainly better let the thing alone. You would however, more quickly accomplish your praiseworthy object by askint; Mrs. Harland to banish wine from the supper table. That is the root of the evil of social drinking. Mr. Dale, her prospective son-in-law mignt go home, under such fortunate circumstances, a little less under the weatlier.'' Eleanor was surprised at Mr. Stuart's sarcas- tic tone, but was prevented from replying by a person coming up behind them and a merry voice saying abruptly : " Oh, you naughty chil- dren ! What have you been doing here so long? We have got so tired waitinoj. Russell, please go and tell Mr. Dale that Miss Osborne and I will join you immediately for our game — the rest of the company are all nicely settled. We have twenty sets. . . . Now, Eleanor ! what is the matter? You have been gazing at those clouds so long that you siand and look at me as if you didn't hear a word I said. I trust the clouds feel no less slightad than I. Wake up and tell me where your thoughts are. I don't believe you're enjoying yourself. I left you too long to the tender graces of that heartless cousin of mine." Eleanor laughed : "You musn't judge of en- joyment by words," she said. " You haven't given me a chance to speak since I came. Your words come like avalanches crushing my words to pieces. There 1 wait one naoment for me to ^ BROKEN BONDS. % say this. I have decided to be at the party to-night. But 1 want to go home first, so as to come with Edward." " Oh ! Nell, I knew you would take pity on us forlorn mortals. I am so glad, and you shall as a reward have the carriage after we finish that important game. The result will be metaphori- cal, remember. But tell me what did Russell say to you? Were you thinking of him when I came in ? Your face was long enough to reach"- " Oh you inevitable exaggerator ! I acknow- ledge, however, that my face might be shortened with advantage. What shall I do f "Select sprightly subjects for thoughts." " It is a metaphysical axiom that people cannot always select their own thoughts. They come into the mind unbidden, and are often most un- welcome." Flo's quick eye saw the shadowy change on her friend's face and she said in a far different tone : " Something troubles you, I know, and 1 shall want to be told about it sometime. I hope that cousin of mine hasn't annoyed you by some of his perverse notions about things. By the way I told him we would be there right off, — see he is waving his handkerchief now, as if in im- patience. Oh ^e\\ ! he can't bear to be away more than five minutes from your side." The color on Eleanor's cheeks deepened at this appendix to Flo's speech, but she answered nothing to the half-sincere, half lightsome raillery. n 'i \ 8 BBOEEN BONDS. At least one person out of the four did not enjoy the game which followed. Ueuallj self- forgetful and appreciative of efforts made tor her amiisemeiit, it was a new phenomenon for Eleanor to be so silent, evidently occupied with her own thoughts to the exclusion of other interests. In fact there was this atternoon a weight on her heart which her utmost strength of will could not shake off. By means <'f that subtle magnetism which en- velopes some people like an atmosphere, Mr. Stuart's mind caught the hue of hers, and while wondering what was troubling her, he found it impossible to play with his accustomed skill. His opponents were unusually vindictive. Flo seeming to have an especial aversion to his un- fortunate brll, while 'she overwhelmed him with volleys of verbal artillery, w^hich were no less trying to his gentlemanly nerves. It was not strange tliat he loved Eleanor Os- borne. She was not handsome certainly. Her features were neither clear cut nor regular ; and yet fine thoughts and feelings had left an ex- pression on her face which could not fail to charm: ' ^ ^ . . . . ** A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet." K It was impossible to find out her fine nature all at once, and Mr. Stuart had not the keenness of perception to see much further than the Bur- fiHOKEK BONt>S« r«.. LJI, . » • I face. Se had caught few glimpses of the inner sanctuary. But that he loved as he did was an evidence of accurate judgment, and not wholly inadequate spiritual insight. It was not unpleasant to see her hesitate about accepting his offered love. Perhaps there could have been found satisfactory reasons for his vanity, perhaps not. Anyway lie did not doubt that the answer of to-morrow would be : " Mr. Stuart I will be your wife." Meanwhile he was content to wait, and to anticipate happi- ness. He suspected that she was keeping him in suspense in order to test his love,and he thought with pride, '* I will stand the test and she will be compelled to confess that she is faithful and she loves me." He did not dream that she was testing his principles. )■') t r: ■i :i ': t Ifilf 'i.Oil 'i'it 10 } i ■; .it'!. : ;■ . t ! , ? r • f it ! ' : f f ' -. r ■ • . 'if' . ' > t , * s , . * . ^ . ^ f. i ; CHAPTER II. "Would that ye could know self-mastery, Better than that I cannot wish you." — ^Sophocles' Ajax, In the office of " Kinglake, Dale and Osborne, Barristers, Attorneys-at-law," Edward Osborne was alone. Mr. Dale had early departed for the croquet party at Miss II arland's, and Mr. King- lake w^as absent from town. All the afternoon the " great orb of day" had been pouring its beams untiringly through the narrow panes of the windows, until every speck of dust on desks and chairs was painfully visible. It was burying itself in golden clouds in the west just as Edward closed the large book he was reading and pre- pared for departure. " Whew ! ]fs hot here," he said to himself as he looked around the close, dusty room. " I believe on my way home I'll stop and get some- thing cool and refreshing. I've put in a better day's work than I did yesterday. Nell will be f leased. Oh ! that reminds mejof my promise, came near forgetting. Pshaw ! I don't think one glass would hurt me, and I am so thirsty someway ; but then I promised Eleanor I would not taste a drop to-day, and it would never do for her not to trust me again." fiBOEiar B6KD8. 11 llis sister might have been a little less dis- consolate could she have seen the restraining force of her earnest words. He put on his hat, and was arranging some papers in his desk, when a showily dressed man passed the window, saw him and entered the office. He shook Ed ward's hand warmly. **l'm glad to see you've recovered from the severe ill- ness which atflicted you so grievously. We were very much concerned about you. Ha, ha I Ijavenport went up to your house yesterday and the person who opened the door said you were slightly better. Great fun that ! We had a good laugh over it afterwards." ' ' ' ' Edward smiled, though he blushed hotly. The other went on: **Are vou most through your work? I've bought that horse at last. JSy jove ! he's a grand one ; and I came to invite you to take a drive out to Weston. We'll get back about ten o'clock, and then we'll meet Davenport and have some fun." '' Thank you, Patterson, but I positively can't. I must be home to tea to-night for I am going out with my sister. But does the horse go well? " Just like the wind." " 1 hope he is a little more visible and not quite so airy." '' Oh ! of course, though he is fleet," returned the matter-of-fact Patterson. " But Osborne you can drive through the park just to try him, and I'll take you home by tea-time." - 12 BROKEN BONDS. ? Hi It required a little resolution and cotirage still to say *' no" to this entreaty, and Edward hesi- tated. He had said to Eleanor he would he home to tea, not before, and there could be no harm in just driving through tlie park. But then he was conscious of his want of strength, and dimly suspected tnat once in the carriage, driving after a high spirited horse, with a lively companion by his side he might at last be induced to break his promise Then in fancy he saw his sister's sad reproachful face, and heard again her passionate request. 1 hat very moment his thoughts took shape in vrords : " No, Patter- son, I really cannot go. And yet, no — ye^ I will to-morrow, if Dale is at his post, here." That settled the matter, so with* a few more words the young men separated. It was already six o'clock and fearful he would be late Edward walked up Bunton street at a brisk rate, reaching the gate of his home just as Mrs. Flarland's car- riage drove up with Eleanor. He opened the door and gave her his hand. As she looked up and saw he was perfectly himself, her whole face lit up with joy : " Oh Teddie, you're a real good boy I" ,. Such praise was worth much to him. If we had been there in that home we would surely have considered Eleanor the sunshine and light of it. Her refined and cultured taste was perceptible everywhere — in the disposal of the furniture and pictures, the flowers in the several I BBOKEN BONDS. 13 ;th, rooms, the books scattered around. Mrs. Os- borne was naturally neither eheerfnl nor demon- strative, and since the death ot her husband every thought and feeling seemed influenced by a great absorbing grief. She was indeed a care- worn woman, troubled about many things ; a face out of which seldom flashed joy ; more restless ftruggling in the heart than reliant trust. The power of a mother^s influence is in- calculable. The atmosphere is buoyant or de- prt'S?ed, m harmony with every phase of her thought anrl feeling, and Eleanoralways tried to lighten the home shadows by appearing joyous herself, even in spite of conditions directly op- posed to the cultivation of joy. After tea she was sewing sometlnng for Edward wh^n Minnie came and sat down by her and watched her awhile in silence. She looked up at the earnest little face but waited for her to speak. " Do you love to do that ?" was asked finally. t' No I don't think I really do." '; " What do you do it for then ?" ' ^ "Because 1 want to I suppose. . .'./ Minnie laughed at the paradox, but said soberly, " I wish we needn't ever do things we didn't like." ^ ^ ' ' '. " What is it now darling?" ! "Oh I I hate to tell you when you're always doing things for him ; but Teddie wants me to do things for him, and Jennie Greene says boys ri' ! r i: :N [r- h: M' « f I U BJ3^Q^J^JS! J3p|a?6, ought to wait on girls, and I said I'd ask you about it for you'd know. I think Teddie ought to help himself, so there !" Eleanor with difficulty repressoJ a laugh over this curious speech, and asked gently, " Do you really think Teddie is unreasonable?" " I don't know, only I can't stand it. When he got home he wanted me to go down to the flowerman's for hira. I said Aleck could go. Kow he himself isn't too tired to go to a party, but I ache so I wouldn't go if 1 had a chance." Eleanor put dov/n her work and administered a little sisterly counsel : " I think Minnie, that sisters should make home just as pleasant as possible for their brothers, and they cannot do this unless they give up a little oi their own pleasure and comfort. Life is made beautiful and happy by these little services. You and I must work very hard so that Edward may have no excuse for seeking elsewhere wht.t he can get at home. We do not know from what we can keep him — keep him from being what so many brothers are. Will you try ?" Minnie did not fail to see the tremble of Eleanor's lips, and she exclaimed impulsively : " Indeed I will try. I'll be as nice as sugar to him forever and ever. But here he comes !" " What's that about being as nice as sugar ; do you mean that I^ell is?" asked Edward sitting BROKEN BONDS. 15 " No I, was talking about mv trials with Aleck, and I said I'd heap coals of nre, etc," answered Minnie, demurely. '* Look out you don't singe him. It wouldn't be the first time. A glance of thine eye is enough to set me on lire. It's time the boy was back." " Where has he gone ?" " I ordered some white roses for you on my way down this morning, and did not have time to call for them, so he went for me." *' Oh Eleanor, you'll look so lovely when you're dressed with roses in your hair 1" The little girl's eyes danced. " I wouldn't wonder if somebody else would think so too," said Edward mischievously. " Who ? Tell me, do I Ah I I know,— Mr. Stuart. Say, Eleanor, are you going to marry him, really and truly ?" asked Minnie, rashly. "Jennie Greene said everybody said you were." " She doesn't know, Min. Would you advise Nell to?" '* I'd marry a man I choiced very much." "That's very philosophical, Eleanor. You had better act on the suggestion," laughed Edward as he rose. • ,!■■:. t" ■ > • ■> , ;> '» 'I ■?•>•( ';mI r U. ;ji' 16 BBOKEN BONDS. ii '■ •ir 8 ' '! Ui '}!•: ,A-j.' f.- i' ' 'f -: f t ' . I . . ■/ ■ '!' ,1 . ^ .'. ■> .- ' t 1 ;•! .!{ cn AFTER III. ** I will call him a true great man ; great in intellect, in courage, affection and integrity." — Carlyle^s Heroes, It was half-past eight when Eleanor and Ed- ward walked up the stone steps of Mr. Harland's elegant residence. The halls and parlors were one blaze of brilliancy, and the bouse being shielded from the street by thickly-ajrowing elm trees, the windows were open, and the busy hum of many voices announced to them that the party had already begun. » • — • ?; v -,, i .; ; Flo was standing near Mrs. Harland, and said to Eleanor as she returned her greeting : •' Nell where is that cousin of mine? He insisted on being excused from my strawberry tea-paity, in order to go home and escort his venerable mother hither. I wanted him to help entertain the young people before their elders came. He said he would come back early anyway to ar- range the music. Has he made his appearance yetr Eleanor smiled as she answered : ^' I have not had the pleasure of seeing him sipce our disastrous game close4." BROKEIT B0KD8. 17 Ed- in "Ohl wasn't it a funny game? You and that heartless cou-in of mine are not suitable for partners. I was wishing, Nell," Flo lowered her voice to a whisper, " that if you are ever partners for life you will not be knocked around the world as roughly as your balls wore this afternoon." Eleanor's face flushed but she laughed at the rougish twinkle in her friend's eyes : " Your metaphorical application of our ill fortune is not legitimate if we are not suitable for partners." " Oh ! we need not take our game of croquet as symbolic in all its minor details of the game of lile. A sunshiny lot for me would then be prophesied and I expect to be just as miserable, as abject and unhappy as you.'' ... ^. ^ j Several young gentlemen appeared at this stage of the convereation and made it more general. i;,M J. ., v;^.r .,; . , . ,^,.., , Eleanor was in one of those quiet moods which usually oppressed her when feeling anxious and troubled, so alter striving awhile to keep up a skirmish of small talk and repartee with them, she grew tired of it all, and watching her oppor- tunity, she slipped away into a little sheltered nook behind a window, where she could give full attention to her own puzzled thoughts. - - The extensive drawing-room, tilling rapidly,* stretched like a panorama before her. It had always been one of her favourite diversions, watching people, analyzing the expression of i i i i f I, .1 18 fiROKEI^ BONDS. their faces in order to guess the motives which rule their habitual action. But to-night she was just tired enough to passively look at the bril- liant, restless throng, until her attention became concentrated on the face and figure of a gentle- man standing near talking to Mr. Harland. The tone of his rich, clear voice every now and then reached her, although the distance prevented her guessing the subject in which beseemed to be so earnestly interested. His fine black hair was tossed back from a broad, intellectual forehead. The eye was bright and penetrating, though capa- ble of expressing great tenderness. The heavy moustache did not completely hide the fine out- line of the mouth. It was firm a"nd decided ; but the upward turn of the corners indicated a tendency, when occasion offered, to break into a smile. In fact, intelligence, decision and gentle- ness were most harmoniously combined in the whole expression of the face. Eleanor's quick intuition told her that with her aspirations and thoughts he would have much sympathy— an opinion which never afterwards was changed. ,; After Mr. Harland had left him he remaiiied in the same place looking at the people, his tall, slender figure leaning against a pillar. But soon he moved nearer Eleanor s retreat in order to examine a large stand of flowers, and noticed her scrutiny, for he had looked up before she had thought to avert her eyes. He slightly smiled '^'-K" BROKEN BONDS. 19 which le was bril- ccame rentle- The d then ed her f) be so ir was ehead. 1 capa- heavy le out- cided ; sated a : into a gentle- in the rith her ! much jrwards mained bis tall, nt soon )rder to eed her (he had smiled at sight of the fresh, girlish face, so unlike many he had seen that evening, and at the inde- pendent way she turned her head towards Flo who just then bustled up in her usual impe- tuous manner : *' Now Eleanor, why do you hide yourself, when w^e want you to grace our party ? So many people (young gentlemen mostly, Miss Osborne) have come up to me and said, — * why where is your friend?' and I have had to inform them with a woe-stricken heart, that the fates or furies conveyed 3^ou just an hour ago to a place unknow^n. I positively had to look through an opera-glass before I could discover you. Just think I that heartless, deceptive cousin of mine has not yet come. It is nearly ten o'clock and we have had so little music, and it's too warm to dance. Now Eleanor, tell me what has troubled you all day. I'll sit down on this sofa, and we will draw the curtains around so no one can see us. How refreshing the dim light is, as refreshing as the words cf a true, sincere friend after being surfeited with flattery." The merry tone of the voice had changed, and with a little squeeze of Eleanor's hand she sat down. " Are you sure you can be spared from every- thing?" ' ' V >..- < "Yes, quite sure. The young people are scattered around on the verandah, and in the reception rooms, and will never miss me for about fifteen minutes. By that time Kussell may arrive. Your brother Edward is the centre of a group of 1 V 20 BROKEN BONDS. ladies entertaining them beautifully. He is the very personification of agre-ableness. Did you know you ought to be proud of him ?" Instead of answering Eleanor sighed bitterly. " Elc.mor, tell me what makes you unhappy ? Perhaps I could help you." The warm-hearted girl's voice trembled. ^' You do v\rong to be so reserved with me. We could understand each other better if we could sympathize in our anxie- ties and cares as well as joys. Our Jriendship will be wanting in one ot its most beautiful services if we thus fail to get comfort and sym- pathy from each other." , .... " Flo ! you musn't think I am reserved, be- cause I do not trust you. My only motive in not telling you before has been that I didn't wish to trouble you for notliing. My darhng, your sympathy is indeed precious to me." i The young ladies were completely shielded by the heavy damask curtains and did not heed the noise and bustle outside, ui v, : • • 'v •: ^. - . :. Eleanor went on in a quick, nervous way: '* For a year past, Flo, Edward has been in the habit of drinking, and has often come home intoxicated, but it was not until night before last that he was hrought home by two dissipated looking men. I can't tell you how I felt, — it was so hard to see mother's tears, and hear her talk so hopelessly. The whole scene haunts me yet. It has seemed that I could not have it so. Edward was unable to leave home yesterday. One of those odious L- BROKEN BOSTDS. 21 men called to see liow he was. Oh ! I didn't know he chose such men for companions. He surely would not in his reasonable moments. I have kept everything from the children, but I'm sure Min wondered why lie talked and acted so strangely. If this goes on we will have to tell her the cause. This morning I got Edward to promise not to touch anything to-day, and the dear boy kept it — if he had not it seems as though I could never trust him again. All the time we were playing croquet this afternoon, I was haunted with the idea that he might be neglect- ing his business and disgracing himself. I have not dared to ask him not to take wine to-night, for I know he can't resist if a lady offers it to him. O Flo ! the influence of woman is so strong and far-reaching that if she only used it for good what a wonderful and glorious change would come over this sad earth of ours ! It would catch some of the beauty and brightness for which our weary hearts hunger and strive. And probably at supper to-night Edward will see these (christian men who ought to show him the loveliness of a high and holy life, free from all appearance ot evil; see them drinking wine and urging him to do so, and then laughing at him, when he does and says tho«6 foolish things of which he would never be guilty when sober. Flo, I think, they, not he, are the most responsible. They thoughtlessly give the usage their sanction, and then put a stumbling block in his path heavenward. J 22 BROKEN BONDS. know that Hood said that evil is done from want of thought as well as want of heart, but it is evil nevertheless, with fearful consequences linked to it. I know that it is kind hospitality which prompts your father and mother to offer wine to their guests ; but if they could realize that they were giving Edward, and such as he poison — poison which unhappily does not kill immediately but which will make his purity, self respect and happiness die and perhaps destroy his soul for- ever, they might hesitate before placing the seductive wine before him." Flo had listened in silence to the steady tones •of Eleanor's yoice, but as it grew low and tremu- lous with feeling she faltered out : " Oh Nell, I never dreamed it was such a terrible thing." " You have had no hard experience to bring the truth before you. Indeed T would not like you to share in the horror and dread with which I think of Edward's drinking this evening. I felt more like staying at home but he insisted on coming, and I thought if I were not here to go home with him, the very taste of the wine here might drive him to seek more elsewhere, and then what a coming home it would be ! Perhaps I imaginatively exaggerate the danger. But it cannot be so when he has fallen so often and given us such bitter sorrow." ' ^' ' f^ei^ '- r)'^tfx A. little silence fell between them, broken at last by Flo. " I know Eleanor, I must often have grieved you by laughing at what 1 have BROKEN BONDS. 23 ant evil dto lich etc hey n — tely aod fer- tile » called your extreme temperance principles. That cousin of mine, though never mentioning yon except in highest terms, has undoubtedly mucb. influenced me by regarding such principles as sentimental and puritanic. 1 have been too care- less, Eleanor, and though I have had vague thoughts about personal responsibility my thoughts never took a definite form, feut be assured that I will now help you all I can, even to going to my father, although 1 feel sure he will not allow the plans for supper to be altered. I wish he had diiferent ideas on this question. Still not one of his family has been a drunkard, and he has been educated to believe that he is not doing his duty as a host unless he has wine for his guests. You know it is hfird to give up customs and habits which he has seen in use since his boyhood. I do not justify him however Eleanor, for I think this custom inconsistent with the profession he makes as a Christian." ' ,, . ,; ■ ,.---.:;. Flo hesitated a moment while the color deep- ened in her face. Then she said slowly : ' I have often made the inconsistency of some Christians an excuse for my own carelessness. I know you think thaf is not to the point — neither logical nor consistent in me. But 1 can't help it. My mind is not so logical as yours. But I think you're sincere and earnest ; 1 really do Eleanor. In many ways of which you don't know you have is. You remember [taught me what my duty 24 Bi^JLBN .3010)8. those lines in ' Kathxina' wbich you liked so nmch : ■ -/ i. I. ..". ' ■ • / / - I ;'«»;i:'^'..:! -vr/^lf ,r/.n'M 'ff * She felt that if her life were not an argument ' '^ ' To move me, nothing that her lips might say '* • / Could win me to her wish.' i ; , ,, . m ,.. . ,n ^ I have watched you and seen the earnestness of your character ; felt the influence of your noble thoughts like an inspiration ; have admired your unselfish solicitude for the welfare of others. Minnie said to me only the other day that your home would be a regular smash-up if you weren't there. I did not need her enthusiastic praise to strengthen my own opinion, and yet it spoke well for the home-life. Many people think that I am too gay naturally to long remember anything, but you know me well enough to believe me when I promise, that henceforth the vague thoughts I have had of God and religion shall be purposes, ruling and guiding my life. How strangely we are mixing the serious with the gay to-night. Rather grave talk for a party," and Flo laughed nervously, r r r -- ' f" r ** What's this grave talk about ?" asked a deep, manly voice as the curtain was pushed aside suddenly, revealing Mr. Stuart's handsome face, f " Russell I how dare you invade our fortress in this way ? We carry a good many guns." *' I am painfully aware of that fact from my honorable scars, Flo. But why do you shut yourselves in here so exclusively ?" ^ Broken bonds. 26 "We were disconsolate without yoU, and came to each other for comfort." _ .; " That repays me for the disappointment of being kept from your side so long. But Flo tell me what great purposes arfe going to rule you. Are you going to turn temperance reformer? Has your mind imbibed some of Miss Osborne's favourite—^ — " ; .r • ,' :; : " Do you suppose I am a weather vane to be turned about by every wind that blows ?" interrupted Flo sharply. " V . -^ " No, I had not forgotten my cousin's tenacity of opinion, nor her mental strength ; but Miss Osborne's reasoning faculty is so subtle that if she tried to convince me that I had lost my identity, I am sure that my senses, imagination and will would be so mystified that I should be- lieve her, and travel around the world shivering for its loss." Miss Osborne smiled. If one feature in Mr. Stuart's character was prominently developed, it was his intense egotism — a thoroughly tight possession of himself. Flo changed the subject by asking why he came so late. The whole expression of his face altered : it became dark and threat- ening, the heavy brows drawing together in a strange way, yet he answered with appar- ent indifference : ^* A little matter occurred to disturb my mother, and 1 remained to accom- pany her.^' I t/l> 26 BROKEN BONDS. Both Eleanor and Flo wondered why a " little matter" should make him angry, but they made no enquiries, and he resumed : " I must apologize for breaking my promise, how- ever if you will accojnpany me to the music-room I will do my best to repair the mischief caused by my non-appearance." His excitement dis- appeared as quickly as it had come ; and he was the self-possessed, polished man of the world once more. Later in the evening, Mr. Dale passing by a shaded window v/hich commanded a view of the bright scene inside, espied Eleanor leaning in, listening intently to a nocturne of Chopin's play- ed by Flo. The expression other face was wistful and tliere was an unsatisfied look in her eyes. " Does music have an unhappy effect on you, Miss Eleanor ?" he asked pausing opposite her. '^ Yes ; I believe such music does. I intensely enjoy it and yet it makes me restless ; makes me feel as though I were striving after something I could never get. Jt indeed sometimes suggests a possibility of these longings being satisfied, but the suggestion is so faitit, so indistinct that the heart longs for more tangible promise. Now Mendelssohn has such a different effect upon me. It is so restful to listen to some of his Songs without Words. But Chopin makes me think of what Kichter said to music : ' Away, away ! thou speakest to me ot things which in all ray endless life I have not found and shall not find.' " BROKEN BONDS. 27 a lut 1^1 Eleanor's face was in shadow but Mr. Dale's quick ear caught the change in her voice. " It is very strange," he said, " that only a few moments ago I heard Mr. Seymour quote that sentence to Mrs. Harlan d. By the way I must introduce you in order that you may compare sensations. He's a stranger in town and hardly knows any one here." Mr. Dale darted off and soon returned with the gentleman Eleanor had noticed talking to Mr. Harland the former part of the evening. The introduction served only as a herald of names ; it did not seem that they were strangers at all. " There must be a sort of mesmeric communica- tion between you two," said Mr. Dale laughing. " In the space of ten minutes I hear the same sentence quoted from a poet not generally read; you both seem to be made unhappy by a certain kind of music and fly to Kichter to And expres- sion for your feeling. You remember that Schiller says that great souls have kindred with each other; and I must say there is a sort of affinity between difi^erent people." " Do you agree with Schiller ?" asked Eleanor looking towards Mr. Seymour. • ; . .i..,, ^ " If I said I did I should be charged with as- surainff that we are great souls, whereas — '• "When did you read Richter, Phil? You know we couldn't unravel his phraseology when we were cramming." •Tf.t; •(iJ - " Do you not prefer this ? I brought it be cause you usually take this kind," he ex- plained. Her voice was low yet not wavering in her answer : " I do not wish for any kind, Mr. Dale. I have given it up, not only for this evening but for all time. I sincerely hope you will do the same. Now promise right on." " I suppose it is not a vtry sensible practice, but then 1 shall want time for consideration." ** Oh I I'll give you just three minutes in the corner for grave and heart-searching medita- tion." . . He laughed at her curious blending of the comic with the serious ; but could not resist her impetuous pleading. At last he promised. Meanwhile Edward and Miss Yarling were playfully debating whether they should not drink to some one's health and happiness. She pro- posed " their . host's fair daughter." Edward eagerly assented and called on Mr. Stuart for the speech. Miss Harland heard with blushing cheeks and down-cast eyes. Then making an eftort to overcome the diffidence and constraint with which she always spoke of things which might excite ridicule, she raised her eyes to 32 BBOEEN BONDS. Edward and said gravely; "Just think your good wishes; it will be as well as drinking them in wine. , , ..r \..yi, . .■■t....f^i» .::;;r >. \ n.: ?,■.■(*'-'!'>; Miss Yarling laughed as though much amused and looked curiously at the speaker. Mr. Stuart frowned and said the pleasure would be all gone. " That is one mistake we make about it Rub- sell. If all the associations of friendship and good fellowship which cluster around the habit of social drinking were taken ^way, its evil might be more painfully visible." There is nothing like a strong emotion to show the need of more noble action, and Flo's hastily formed opinions in regard to temperance, had deepened into broad, strong principles since her conversation with Eleanor. Intense and enthusiastic in everything she was going to. carry the same intensity and earnestness into this new life of hers, and with God's help she would make, its influence strong and decided. Just then Mrs. Stuart began talking, and thus prevented Eleanor from hearing more. *' My meFsage was this. Miss Osborne. Russell has to start early to-morrow morning for New York. A telegram came this evening. He expects to be gone at least a week. I wish you> and Florence Harland to visit me a day or twO; during his absence. Flo says I may find it^ diflicult to persuade you, as you are quite a re-, cluse. But I do not despair of your acceptance oimy invitation.'; ^ y,;^ ' ,'j\nuVuy\ '.^^oyiu ' hl-i^m BROKEN BONDS. 33 Eleanor's face flushed. Under some circum- stances she could not go she said. V '•' - ''But Miss Osborne you mnai come. I insist on it. You are Flo's friend, and I claim you for her sake if not for KiisselPs." * '^" ' ' ' Mrs. Stuart seemed so disappointed at even a conditional retusal, that at last Eleanor yielded a reluctant consent. '^'■'■:^'^ -^ /rnrc ;ir ^ * ^ :; ?!?*'' -Jf -Jf -Jf 4f " Do you think that lady pretty over there, Mr. Seymour? Your eyes for the last minute have been very truant in that direction. Do you know her well ?" Mr. Seymour started from his abstraction and smiled gravely at the speaker. " As I am almost a total stranger in your city, Mrs. Yates, I cannot say that I know any one well. I received an introduction to Miss Osborne this evening, and consider her very agreeable." " Rather reticent praise, considering she has won the admiration of such a fastidious man as Mr. Russfell Stuart. For my part I don't see in what lies the attraction lor him. He has the pick of the garden. They say the marriage is to take place very soon, and then they go to Europe. It is a splendid chance tor any girl, and especially for her. She isn't at all well off, and though her brother is very clever, his chances of success are being spoiled by such dissipated habits. They do say he is very irregular. I should think that Mr. Stuart would hesitate about incurring the 34 BROKEN BONDS. risk of disgrace. He is so very proud. They say however that the match was made by Miss Harl|pd, who thinks everything of her friend, and could wish no better fortune than that she should be the wife of a man worth half a million, and master of Leathdale." ■ ^ * ' ^ - '^ ' - -f Mr. Seymour was listening with a feeling of blended aversion and disappointment, but as he was too well bred to show his feeling the un- conscionable gossip went on : " Leathdale is a perfectly lovely place, enough to make any girl jump at the chance of getting possession, x ou have not seen it ? Oh ! you should by all means before you leave the city .... What a fine brilliant looking woman Mrs. Stuart is ! Quite a contrast to her prospective daughter-in-law. Though rather intellectual looking and with grand eyes, she has no style and is positively too subdued and quiet." " But there is great strength of will and force of character expressed in her face," Mr. Seymour ventured. , ,; -, i ;ii " If so I wonder how the two will agree ? It's my opinion there will be a good deal of clashing. They say Mrs. Stuart has not at all a submissive spirit. There have been reports that her husband's life was not exactly hi ppy. He died very soon after his father, and never lived at Leathdale during his marriage. Russell's been. master ever since he was about fifteen, — BROKEN BONDS. 35 enough to make any boy proud and overbearing, isn't it?" # , , ^ #1. ^ ^ ^ ^ * -jf # "Eleanor how pale you are! Don't you feel well ?" enquired Mr. Stuart anxiously as he of- fered her his arm to escort her to the drawing- room. ' . . She answered almost haughtilyj'i" I was^^not aware of being otherwise. No thank you, don't offer me that T '" -"• - ' " Proud, self-reliant, yet charming as usual," he said to himself as he left her. ** Will she never learn to trust me ?" While the gentlemen were at supper the ladies amused themselves in various wayf». Flo flitted from one group to another, entertaining all by her merry chatter, though they wondered at her restless manner. Eleanor seated herself where she could see the door of the dining-room, which was left slightly ajar. The first gentleman to come out was Mr. Seymour, followed soon after by Mr. Stuart and a few others. When Edward finally made his appearance, Eleanor saw there had been grounds for her worst fears. Mr. Sey- mour, who stood not far away, noticed a quick expression of pain and utter hopelessness cross her face, leaving it very pale. Mr. Stuart uttered a sharp expression of impatience about the anti- cipated drive home being spoiled. Eleanor turned around and said in a low voice, " I would not think ot his going with jou." 8 T «• - I t 36 BBOK£N BONDS. \ ' ' He looked relieved though the expression in her eyes startled him. " But I shall go with him." she said with dig- nity. " Impossible ! It would be imprudent, moat imprudent. Besides you are tired, and as we go past your house you must go with us. Were it not for my mother I should insist on taking your brother also." " I wish to be independent of your courtesy Mr. Stuart, when it does not include those I love." " Pardon me. I hope all you love will make themselves worthy of i?^ courtesy," retorted he, biting his lips with vexation. Just then Flo who had been watching from the other side of the room Eleanor's face, though the distance prevented her hearing the low tones of her voice, stepped hastily up to Mr. Seymour and said a few words. The next moment Eleanor heard a deep voice at her side say gently : " Miss Osborne will you entrust your brother to me ? Miss Harlan d has kindly offered the use of her carriage," Mr. Seymour added as he caught the frateful flash of Miss Osborne's eyes. " Though er proposal be assured I shall assume the charge with great pleasure." - »' / *>• "^ti* " Thank you ; and may I drive with you ?" " No," answered Mr. Stuart decidedly, though he smiled. **I want you with me. You are certainly very kind sir," he added, turning to \ BROKEN BONDS. 37 Mr. Seymour with lofty condeseension. " Allow me to accompany you to the hall and introduce you to Mr. Osborne." ^ * ^ ^ ^ The drive home with the Stuarts was remark- ably silent. 38 BROKEN BONDS. .; ;, i;'".i< i y. CHAPTER lY. *' It is hard to meet with stiff denials Those who ask for love ; Or having met with good at others hands, to fail in Rendering good for good received." — Sophocles. The moonliglit was a relief from the hot glare of gablight, and the little room refreshingly still after the noise and confusion of the party. Eleanor sat down on a low seat by the window, where she could feel the cool night air blow upon her flushed cheeks. Her usual way of meeting trouble was not by tears ; but here alone, with no external check present, tired and nervous with excitemetit, she felt that control was no longer possible. Her heart was in a whirl of conflictfng emotions, and more than half an hour passed ere she had quieted them enough to think calmly about the irrevocable decision which to-night must be formed in relation to the answer Mr. Stuart would expect when he returned. Away down town a solitary man was walking rapidly in the moonlight towards his hotel, and as he walked he thoui^ht of her. " She is truly a woman who would be an inspiration to a man I But that Stuart is not worthy of her. He will BdMB ' BBOEBN BONDS. dd attempt to lower her aspirations, grind witli harsh hand the nobility out of lier life. But she must love him, for I Ho not believe she has been won by his manifestations of love, however deli- cately offered, or fascinated by the charm of his wealth and culture. . .1 can only wish her to be happy, and pray God to guide her over the rough places stretching away into the future. .. But I must not indulge in this useless sentiment ; having met her is but an episode in a life of change ana homesickness. Singular that quotation from Kichter : * Which in all my endless life I shall not find.' It's doubtless true, and I am destined to be a lonely, desolate fellow. Why is it some men get all the sunlight while others live under heavy shadows ?"* ^ * ^ * * Was it an echo of Mr, Seymour's thoughts in Eleanor's heart that she was haunted by such forebodings of evil and unhappiness to-night? Was Russell Stuart true and noble ? She knew he lacked that reverence and love for a personal, ever present God, which alone exalts and ennobles character. Indeed he had often expressed his conviction that a theistic belief is but a ghost of man's imagination, a mere striving of his intel- lect to pierce the dense obscurity surrounding the realities of the "unknown." If she trusted her heart to him could she resist the daily influ- ence of this cold, joyless skepticism, and keep her own faith strong and bright ? She knew their individual natures would often i !l 4(0, ] BROKEN BONDS. strike fire, because she suspected that he was enough of a tyrant to exact absolute obedience to his wishes, and agreement with his views of hfe. And this homage she would not yield, possessing as she did a disposition self reliant and inflexible as his own. With nothing to guide him but his fallible intellect, hu would not be justified in assuming ability to guide her steps, especially if the path lay through cloud and storm. And she knew she would not have suffi- cient faith in his superior insight and wisdom to follow with confidence. In point of fact her impression was that in many things her judg- ment was more reliable than his ; but Mr. Stuart would consider this high treason in his wife, needing vigorous measures for its suppression. Now with this difference in belief, in aims and purposes, a condition rendering her powerless to give him the trust and loyalty her woman's heart BO longed to give, would not their marriage be a mere delusive mockery of the joy, the transcend- ent beauty it should possess % Moreover Eleanor prophetically felt that in her earnest efforts for her brother's best wel- fare she need expect no sympathy or assistance from Russell, — rather opposition, or harder to bear, chilling indifference. The events of this afternoon and evening had taught her this conclusively. Her pleadings and entreaties with Edward had often been met by the question that if a young ■^■■■iiWIii were dead and spiritless now, with no trace their former wildness. Walking slowly past towards the large door which now stood open, he hesitated, looked back once more towards Eleanor, then shut it and disappeared as noiselessly as he had come. Ere she had time to guess thp meaning of this strange apparition, Mrs. Stuart appeared in the hall. She had thrown a loose dressing gown around her, and the candle which she carried showed her face to be almost startling in its paleness. She looked anxiously around, and then came to Eleanor's bedside. " Are you awake ?" she whispered. "Yes." " I was afraid bo. Have you seen or heard anything ?" *' Yes," was the laconic answer. " Were you startled ?" "Yea." " I am sorry, but do compose yourself and sleep. I assure you there is no cause for fear. BROKEN BONDS. 49 I will go and examine and explain in the morn- ing. Florence is asleep ? It is best so," Mrs. Stuart added, significantly. " Yes, I understand." " Thank you. I wish you had had your door locked. Good-night." '^ But Mrs Stuart, where are you going ?" asked Eleanor, in animp tlsive whisper. "I fear John has been drinking and left the doors up there unlocked. I must go and investigate." ** Don't you need me ?" She was answered by a sigh of relief: "I shall be so glad unless you are afraid." Eleanor threw a cloak over her and lighting another candle accompanied Mrs. Stuart. John was indeed found to be in a drunken stupor and could lend no assistance, so they passed alone through the large door, which opened into a long, dark hall. The candles flickered fitfully and the forms of the two women cast weird shadows on the gloomy walls. Eleanor was strangely im- pressed by the darkness and the mystery connected with the events of this night, and though sh? expected any moment to see the tall figure of the maniac, she followed her guide with a brave heart. The hall terminated by a flight of steps, at the top of which was another heavy door. Mrs. Stuart saw no key in the lock. " He must have fastened it on the other side," she said. '* If he should suddenly open ii and you see the key, take it out while I am talking to hirn.-' 1 60 BROKEN BONDS. But Eleanor's bare foot had struck something solid on one ot the steps, and lowering her candle she perceived the missing key. '* We are all right now," exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, seizing it quickly and transferring it to the lock, lliey both breathed more Ireely now, and the transit along the halls back to their rooms wi*s made quickly and in silence. , . , _ , ,^ ^^ Flo slept through the night oblivous of every- thing but the sweet dreams of healthful girlhood, and though at breakfast she secretly wondered at Eleanor's haggard face and Mrs. Stuart's gloomy abstraction, she gave full vent to her usual flow of joyous, merry talk, and asked no personal questions. . ^ ; A propitious opportunity occurred for the promised explanation, when she strolled off to the drawing-room for an hour's private enjoyment with the piano. So Mrs. Stuart conducted Eleanor to the library and established her on a Bofa while she talked. - ** Years ago, Eleanor," she began, "one lovely June morning, a young girl stood up by a gentleman's side in a little village church, and the minister called them husband and wife. He swore to love, protect and cherish her, and she, with the trusting faith of girlhood, believed him. A few short years of happiness flew swiftly by : the sun shone bright and glorious, and the sky was clear. The wife thought her life to be all blissful, — a sweet Irag- MftO^EK BONDS. 5l ' ment of the Eden, lost to every human soul. But a cloud appeared, when the husband began to be harsh, neglectful, irritable. Those were anxious, troubled years. But soon the dark and heavy clouds of sorrow rolled across their lives and completely obscured the former brightness and glory, when he drank so deeply as to lose his reason, and that intellect,. noted for its strength and keen flashing brilliancy, became a complete wreck. Eleanor, the cloud has never lifted ; — you know it all now. The demon intemperance has ruined my husband's life, blighted my hap- piness, and now all that remains ot the man I once loved, yea madly worshipped, is that incurable maniac, walking restlessly up and down in his wretched loneliness. Oh Eleanor! if I could only have laid him in his grave in the beauty ot his spotless manhood ; then my grief would not be despair, agony 1" :'' ' *' -- Mrs. Stuart covered her face with her hands — hiding its restless, excited expression. A moment after she said more calmly : " The change came all at once. We were in Europe and the news arrived of his father's death, and that Leathdale would henceforth be our home. The shock of grief, and the excitement caused by the contemplation of the new life before him must have shattered the mind already weakened. Russell was then fifteen. We came hdine. Everyone here thinks my husband is dead — ^not even Flo has been told; but of course 9 52 ! I h i , ['.'' her parents know the sad facts, — Mrs. Harland being my sister. I am sorry you were frightened last night ; and yet^ I had determined that you should know all the secrets of our life here at Leath- dale. A long discussion was necessary to obtain Russell's consent, and it was yielded at last reluctantly. He will be very angry with John, and perhaps reproach me for not more carefully watching him ; but he has always been so trust- worthy that what occurred was a great surprise to me. Only once before has anything of the kind happened. As we were starting lor Mrs. Harland's the other evening, we found that John had gone down to supper, leaving the doors un- locked, and that he my — my husband had gone into Russell's library. It was that which made us so late at the party. Oh ! how bitterly angry Russell was ! I had hoped his threats and warn- ings would be sufficient." •?!.,. , „;..,. 4 She paused, thinking her own sad thoughts. Eleanor who had listen. I lit CW > : 4._. BBOKKN BOKDS. 55 . J,' I -J jJ« - »• 'i' CHAPTER VI. * :'^ *. I r\ lif'M':- II !■ I ■ ! ■ ' ( , : ) ■ :!'!'niHr ■ ..i ' : / '*We all do stamp our value on ourselves. The price we challenge for ourselves is given us." — Schillw's IValknsteiiu ■ i I .- 1 t % I k; h> 1' f ( rress of bUBiness and annoying delays kept the master of Leathdale absent from his elegant home for two whole weeks. The cause ol his journey was best known to his own proud, re- served heart, and although it had been under- taken unwillingly because of the unsettled condition of his love suit, the anticipation of happiness at the end kept him in good spirits. On his return home from hi» cousin's croquet party, a letter on his library table awaited his attention. The fine brows drew together as his eye recognized the handwriting, and almost impatiently he tore open the envelope : •"iji ■' .■^. < , I » f ", J * I f :i i;';7; " Mb. Russell Stuart, Dear Sir, — I never supposed the necessity of my ad- dressing you would ever arise, and though regret- ting now that necessity, I trust your courtesy will prompt you to accede to my earnest request. A lew days ago I accidentally came across the young girl whom you once so deeply wronged by. 56 BROEl^ BONDS. telling her you loved her, and for a few months amusing yourself by winning her heart, when you knew you could never stoop to marry her. She is living in great destitution in N , a little village near the sea-shore. You well remember that because I had no sympathy with your code of belief that such ' flirtations' are not dishonor- able in a man once or twice in his lite, because of this, our friendship was broken. I need not attempt to change your views. But I will Say that it is your positive duty to go to her, relieve her present need, and place her beyond reach of future trouble. I do not think she will ever disagreeably trouble you. It is because I am absolutely unable to assist her permanently that I now point out to you your course of action. . ^ ^'' Sincerely Tours, Philip Seymour." That evening as Mr. Stuart was on his way to seek Eleanor and Flo's hiding place, he met Mr. Seymour at the drawing-room door. After the first shock of surprise, he said in a low voice but with his usual smooth politeness, " I have read your letter and owe you thanks for its interesting facts. I start to-morrow morning on the errand you impose. But Seymour," the voice sank al- most to a whisper, " beware what you say to any of my friends here. Their ' code' is not mine — not so liberal." An evil smile distorted the handsome face, - T n BBOKEK BOKDS. 67 The other answered frigidly: "Had I any good motiye in exposing you, 1 should not hesi- tate. But doing so would not retrieye the past, nor restore her wrecked happiness. It would only pain your friends who trust in you." " 1 ou speak wisely. I am glad your view of the case in question is such that I can admire. Good evening." Everything at last was arranged to Mr. Stuart's satisfaction ; and with a reckless forgetfulness of the dark sins of the past, and a confident looking forward to future joy, he was on his way home. But disappointment, bitter chagrin awaited him. * * * 1 1 •; f • . .. 1 • . 4 -.-r-. * ■ ii^ii'd- ' r (•<,- j •/ ! !|('' , l»rfH M'r.'f '■) ■> f' " ■ ! ^ 1 ' •i. ^ ii:^;*) i-\ I'Pi'i 71 1-^dn'i'\ '■•;[: ' .7.',!' ' i) ■: . /{Ml 'ii T3li '^JHuIiy^ '..;j:f| Oil) i-; ^1 (T-jlC ••. '[K'^ 7/')fI t^TjW 58 BBOKIBN BOITDS. 7il. I 1m;M • ■/f - /# '!r..i; M-nl :<• ','{('1' .f-O'i ''ilT )-/'»r ■."•■{ ■■^): i*;i!' ■// i'lU'iV/ i; CHAPTER VII. r'VrV-'"" I 1 " Even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea." — Swinburne, , ' ,„ The tw*o yeiirs which followed were years 5f deep experience to at least three of the persons in whom we are interested. Philip Seymour went back to his work far away, — and thouffh everything connected with his single visit to the Harlan ds clung to his memory as closely as vines and ivies cling to solid masonry, he thought always of Eleanor as Russell Stuart's wife, and the man's strong will never allowed the feintest thought of love to find sympathy in his heart. And yet the words " it might have beeB other- wise" were often a sad accompaniment to the full harmony of the beautiftil life he li\ed. With Eleanor many things were different. Perhaps she missed Mr. Stuart more than she was really conscious of. There wa> little to enliven the dull monotony of her busy life. His intelligent, stimulating conversation, his keen, scholarly criticism of the books they reid together, were now enjoyments ot the past. A^mong her many Mends, there were none quite so kind to her, certainly not so deyoted, as b had been. , BROltEN B0m)9. 11 r > ; r. : I* (! But Eleanor had been true to herself and to her ideas of duty, and knowing that what had in- terested her was not really himself, she only regretted his absence in the abstract. . ; It had been very hard to see the pain she gave him ; and when he went abroad for a year, she felt responsible for his exile, and sharply blamed herself for Mrs. Stuart's inevitable loneliness. But he had come back ; and the few times they had met assured her that time and absence had completely conquered the old love, although the wounds to his pride and egotism had left scars. '^" " /V^ '; ' Thus while Eleanor's outward life was devoid of romance and absorbing interest, she lived an inner life of high aspiration and earnest thought which failed not to compensate for many losses. And yet the atmosphere of sorrow and constant anxiety in which she lived was telling upon her health and spirits. Edward went recklessly on his downward path and saw not, or affected not to see, that the sister he so much loved, who seldom failed to give him sympathy and affection, was daily growmg more careworn and grave. Yet sometimes hours of bitter self-condemnation came to him ; and when she would talk to him about the fatal habit which was undermining his life, he would resolve to snap the fetters Which bound him and be free. But they had grown too strong for him to break alone ; and he, in his self- n^liant Weakness did not solicit the help of Ood. Indeed if it had not been for Eleatior's inflD-' 60 BltOitEl^ BOKt)$. ence it is not known where he would have ended. The fear of entirely destroying her faith, restrained him from committing many of the excesses in which his companions indulged ; her advice and warnings and entreaties kept him from plunging headlong into that maelstrom of intemperance out of which no man comes alive. But he was losing prestige rapidly. That air of general wretchedness which dissipation brings in place of the freshness and happiness it takes away, clung to him closely now. He was not so careful in his dress as he once had been, his broad shoulders stooped, his firm, manly step grew irregular and tottering. Hardest of all to bear, his former acquaintances looked coldly on* him ; and those friends, at whose homes he had learned to drink, wondered " why he could be so utterly foolish, so blind to his chances of success in his profession, as to thus lose his respectability and ruin his prospects." Yet with this very medita- tion resting in their minds, this warning example gleaming before their consciences, they would go home and offer to their children, to their guests, the same glasses filled with the sparkling wine, out of which he had once drunk, and after- wards pray to be led not into temptation, to be delivered from evil. When will such men and women realize that they hinder the progress of truth, holiness and justice, which is to triumph over injustice, talsehood an<^, evil ixj. thip^.Qyij:^ 8Qrfpw:8}iJ^dpwed w(^dj '[.i^^' i.l^ru h^oi^^]' BRokSN JBOrNDS. 61 ied. ith, the lier lim of ve, air , At last 'bile snowy daf in December, Mr. Kinglake called him into his private office, and informed him that as he was so irregular in his attendance to business he must withdraw from the firm This blow to his pride, to his honor struck home to his heart. With a hopeless look on his pale face, he mechanically signed the papers, and taking his hat and coat went out. Mr. Dale met him in the outer office and said kindly, " 1 am sorry you are going Osborne. I would do anything if I could help you in any ^ar." ' ^^ ' '''''- '•'^'-' Edward silently shook his hand, — he could not trust his voice to speak. "Flo will be very sorry for you and your sister . . . Can't you give up drinking Osborne, and make your mother^ life a little brighter towards its close ?" Edward bowed his head upon the railing of his desk — the desk which had been his tor six long years. Mr. Dale saw he was trying to conceal the tears in his eyes. " Mr. Harland was saying the other day, it was such a pity that a young man of your ability and legal advantages should throw away your chances. . , / . , i " He has himself to thank for it," came from between Edward's tightly compressed lips. "What's that?" *;: " I say he can thank himielf for it," repeated Edward, lifting his head. " Three years ago as I was calling there, feeling very tired and worn 62 BS0KS9 B01VD8. ' out, Le offered me wine. I refiised, but be pressed it upon me, saying I needed some stimulus. I went from bis noma tbat evening tbinking tbat if wine made me feel so goody so exbilerated as tbougb all the blues were gone, I would drink and enjoy tbe effect." Tbe tone of Edward's voice suddenly cbanged to one of mocking bitterness. " Give Mr liar- land my blessing, my calming benediction. Tell bim I am indebted to bim, to bis kind hospitality for all tbe misery I briug upon myself and tbose at bome. If I eball die a drunkard and an out- cast, it may be pleasant for bim to know tbat my soul's blood is upon bis garments. His sleep will probably be as refresbmg and dreamless as mine to-nigbt. Good-bye, Dale, — it's time to abut tbe omce and sbut me out, and I must go." Tbe snow was falling beavily, and it was quite dark outside. Tbe street lamps glimm*^ lea i*int- ly, and Edward saw men burr- up town homeward bound, for tbe bells w ^ ringing ^ix. He was not ready to go bome, noi waF be quite prepared to forget himself in intoxication. Draw- ing bis fur cap over bis ears, and buttoning up his coat, for the cold, blustering wind chilled bim, be walked aimlessly down Bunton Street. He bad not gone far when he was stopped by a faint voice at bis side. Then he saw in the darkness a little girl with a thin, tattered shawl closely wrapped over her cold arms. " Please eif can't you give^ nie apenny to git some supper J BBOKEN BONDS. 63 he Dine ing so e,I j> Me fatlier is druuk sir, and us children are starvin' an' so cold." ^ Edward emptied all his change into her bare, cold hand. " God have pity on them all," he muttered to himself as he turned away. Hardly knowing what he did, and because of a vague feeling of discomfort, he entered a warm bright saloon, one of his customary haunts. Burying himself in a large chair in one corner, ho gave way to his bitter, hopeless thought6,obliviou8 of the movements or talk of his companions. After a while he felt his shoulder touched, and turning half angrily his eye encountered Mr. Stuart's finely-featured face. " How are you Osborne ? I've not seen you for ages. Good heavens ! you are as pale as death. Come and have something strengthening for the sake of old times." i ,, ■ Edward rose mechanically, and the two men went towards the bar; but while the one pru- dently sipped the contents of his glass, the other with equal imprudence emptied his. ... . After Mr. Stuart's departure Edward once more sought the comfortable arm-chair. For awhile he sat there, languidly, sensuously enjoying the warm glow caused by the strong liquor he had drunk. Then a wild, mad impulse swept over him, a strong desire for more intense enjoy- ment, even complete lorgetfulness, and he called for glass after glass. Soon after he again found himself in the open air. It was now half-past e^ven, apd be tiprn^4 ift tfee dir^ctioa of feon^e. 64 BBOKBN BONDS. But at the corner of Grand Street lie ran against a tall gentleman who was hurrying in the oppo- site direction. His foot slipped, and in falling heavily on the pavement his head struck against the curbstone. The gentleman stopped, and with the assistance of a man who was passing carried him into the nearest drug- store, and laid him on a lounge in the inner room. Edward's cap had fallen oif, and the brown curls, damp with snow and sleet, fell over the cut on his forehead from which the blood was streaming. The eyas were closed, the tace deathly pale. After looking at him searchingly as if the features seemed familiar, the gentleman hastened to assist the druggist in his efforts to restore his consciousness. '* Is he seriously in- jured?" he asked. '* "Can't tell; badiob." * '| -• " Have you any idea who he is ?" " Yes, young Osborne (poor fellow) of the firm (hold his head a little higher) firm of Kinglake, Dale (look out there. Give me that handker- chief) lawyers you know. He's been going bad lately I've heard tell. A gre'at pity poor fellow." " Where does he live i I'll get a cab and bring a doctor. DonH. spare anything to make him comfortable." * * * * * # # ' # " * Eleanor was sitting by the parlor grate alone. The book she had been reading — Richter's " ffe8peru8,^^ had fallen unheeded in her Ijip, and ir. / •fv! *f; .•/<; U'.-i fi&OEEN flOKt>S. 65 wo- liinflr )j her eyes were fixed on the glowing coals. This sentence had almost startled her : " But there shall come an era when it shall be light, and man shall awake from his dreams . • • • Infinite Provi- dence, thou wilt cause the day to dawn, although as yet struggles the twelfth hour of the night." Then as her imaginative mind took up the figure and thought of all it suggested and pro- mised, she restlessly rolled baet her chair and began walking up and down the room. But too soon her thoughts came back to the care and the trouble which she seldom forgot. Were brightness and joy never to be found in all her enaless life ? The door-bell rang loudly as though pulled by a strong decidod hand ; and not waiting to turn up the hall gas, Eleanor quickly opened the door. A tall figure, covered with snow, stood outside, and she dimly discerned in the darkness the outline of a cab in the street. , ,,.,,., ** Mav I see Mrs. Osborne ?" The voice strangely carried Eleanor's thoughts back into ine past. o^ip*-*. v.i po»«j! ■/> \t .*.•/. "Mrs. Osborne is ill. Will I do as well I Come in." ...j .,,/•, .,.,..,,. ^ h. .r • v ... . ? ..r. -»i.wi He shook the snow from him, and entered tlie hall. As the light from the bright parlor fire flashed through the door and illummated "recoffnition, gave and Eleanor offered her hand. Then Mr. Sey mour said hurriedly, " Ca.n you bear it? I a^n i( e« BBOl^l^lf dONtii. qpite sure there is nothing immediately serious. Your brother has fallen and is hurt. Will you prepare his room while we bring him in ?" Sne showed him she could bear it by her ad- mirable self-control and promptitude in the performance of those services to relieve which only a true gen tie- woman can perform efficiently. A more weak and selfish one would have been but a hindrance and trouble. They carried Ed- ward up-stairs and laid him on the .bed in his own room. He was conscious now, and suffering verv much. After rendering what assistance he could, Mr. Seymour went down again into the parlor. The fire there had burned down low and the light was quite dim. He wondered what strange Providence had thus guided him once more to this home. Why had the thought, the memory of Eleanor been with him thes« two long years when she had been suffering ? Ah ! he knew without definite explanation, what thoae years had been to her : — he had seen the shadows in her eyes, the sad weary lines of care p.round the expressive mouth. How he would have loved to help and comfort her, to bring the lost joy back ! But where was Russell Stuart ? Was not that his service and privilege? "-" '^''^ ^-^ •''"' = Absence in New Orleans, completely isolated from the sphere in which Eleanor moved, even bftyond' the reach of any newsmonger, had been Mt. Seymour's misfortune. He felt in the unen- raaoB BBQXBM BONDS. 67' viable condition of a man who anxiously desires knowledge, but sees no way of obtaining it with- out direct question, or annoying blunder. . ,-; He was leaning on the mantle-piece, looking into the fading embers of the fire, when he heard her step in the room. She said that Edward had fallen into a sleep caused by exhaustion and the doctor's prescribed narcotic, u u- m j .,:nii ^,^M > " I am sure you must feel very tired," Mr. Sey- mkour said, as he rolled an easy chair towards her. . ^' Just a very little * . . . But you, I do not believe you had your tea when you so kindly "i^j*.,.! i^'Oh yes, Mrs. Stuart, — Miss Osborne I" he added quickly, feeling as he caught the startled look in her eyes that he had blundered. " Ihen you are not married yet to Mr. Stuart ?" 1/ " *> Ko) and I never expect to be, Mr. Seymour," Eleanor answered impulsively. The next mo- ment she laughed while a hot flush came into her; cheeks. '' You must fi rgive my ignorance," he said after a short pause. " W hen I first met you I heard you were soon to be married, hence my inference. By the way the doctor told me some one would have to watch to-night, and I; have been wishing that you would allow me to stay. You should, Miss Osborne, because I was the cause of the fall." , , ./His words went to her heart with a seiise of comfort, of unbounded trust in him. She did not object to his proposal— indeed accepted it 10 68* BBOKBN BOKDf* calmly and naturally, as he wished, and in the same way as she had accepted his assistance once before — with a sincere " Thank yoa." Then she asked gravely " Was he intoxicated ? O Mr. Seymour! I have often wondered where all this' will end. For months I have been expecting some fearful calamity. If you could only mflu- . ence him. There are so few gentlemen here who in any way help him to live a better life." » Eleanor scarcely knew why she felt such con- fidence in the man standing there by the mantle, looking down at her. This feeling of trnst, of reliance in his judgment and wisdom came in- voluntarily, and yet it borrowed no strength from imagination, i ^>"i^ vfi nun ^, )7;.« i-ii tii AiMA *' My younger brother is so strong in his temper- ance principles," she said after a long silence. *^ He is away to-night ; drove Flo Karland out to^ Leatheale. She had a message to deliver there. > They were coming right back. I am listening » all the time for the sleigh bells. Did you know she is to be larried soon?" £leanor's face' brightened and tier voice took a more cheerful i tone, as it always did when she spoke of her friend. " I was not aware of the stupendous tact. I ' only came here yesterday, consequently have not called yet." "It is your loss;— theirs too," she added quickly. He sra'led down at her asking, " Who is the^ happy man elected lo this honor?' ^> jjji.u j a BBOKEN BONDS. 69 , " My brother's partner Mr. Dale. Why your old friend. He has changed wonderfully since he knew her. A little inclined to dissipation before, he is now so trustworthy in every way, sincere and true-hearted. Flo tells me that he is trying to convince her father that his course in regard to wine drinking has not been wise, that he has made a great mistake in not realizing his responsibility. Mr. Seymour, I am sometimes driven so near despair, as to be tempted to wish that no acts of ours may have effect upon others." *^^^ " Such a condition would prevent all hope of doing good, as well as take away all check upon evil, Miss Osborne ; and each of us would feel rather cold and icy in our isolation, would we not ? • I should be lonely indeed, if you had no influence on my spiritual nature. Things you Baid at our first meeting have remained with me all this time, have helped me in many an anxiety and crushing disappointment." She smiled at his earnestness, but changed the Bubject, by asking how long his business would keep him in town this time. " A very desirable position has been offered me permanently in the firm of Albert V*i % I Eleanor was prevented from replying by the arrival of her brother Aleck. m BKOKEN BONDS. I I II .7':?/ 7T'^79 ni 7 (f It t //luff ft c ••- q ^f •»?[ />'fo't':j«f T^r^ , ' A heart which seeks feels well that it \^ants some- thing ; a heart which has lost feels that something has gone." — Goethe, ; ,'iii>,<,i / -r-, -iiK . . * Liiiii-,/i»MJ^ /{ i^- — (7 f ' r> ' It was well that Edward Osborne had to lie there oii that sick bed, helpless, and mueh of the time alone. Freed from excitement and the distracting cares of business, he had oppcMunity for a good deal of self-introspection, and it seemed that he saw clearer into the depths of his own Bin and wretchedness, than ever before. Indeed he had never dreamed of the possibility of such sin and wilful wrong-doing being existent in his heart. ■ 1fTHrrr}fTtf»(iirR-:(> I'lTlH^ffO (xrn -iriWhat had the twenty-five years of his life been to him? Altogether a failure. Mu^t it always be so ? Why could he not shake the paat from him, and break from it, as a boat tosses spray from her bow, and dashes onward ? Ah 1 he did not feel strong enough to battle with the angry, raging waves which threatened to engulf him, and ride on top of them victorious, ooDh queror. ..it But lor his friends his courage would have utterly failed. They gave him resolution, pUr- .»¥p»;w ^»?^?- >Ti pose, ambition to be lifted onto a higher plane of life, where the outlook would be broad, the at- mosphere fresh and inspiring. But the path to it indeed lay over rugged, footsore places, and there was a burden for the weary, distrustful heart, heavy to be borne. Coming in one day, Mr, Seymour found him very despondent. "I have just promised Eleanor," lie said, " that when I am w^ll and al4e to be around again, I will entirely break away from my old habits and companions, and start life again. While listening to her eloquent argu- ments in favor of a life consecrated to true and noble things, it seemed an easy thing to promise. But now I am tired Seymour, and you don't know how I crave for a glass of some- thing. It seems as if I were going wild, that I would willingly give my right n and for one glass of wine. Wouldn't it satisfy me ? Oh ! I often wake up in the night and lay here and plan how I can get some. If there were any in the house ! But I must not talk of it. Nell says it will never do to try and dnnk moderately." > "Never, never with your excitable, impulsive temperament." ^^ ( ^^^rr r;' ii^ f^'^rfH "Well, what can X do? It is too late. I have gone too far already. I may as well give up all hopes of reformation ; have a merry life and a short one,and drop in to the grave as soon as possible," he added recklessly. " And break your sister's heart. Oh Osborne I I 79 BBOKBir BOlTDf. do you see how pale and thin she is ? And would it be a merry life ?" Philip asked gravely. Edward sighed heavily. "God knows it is mis- erable ; so miserable I" " Which is the wisest, dear friend ;-a wretched life as you confess it is, with the prospect of a terrible death which involves, in the life beyond, separation from all that is pure and beautiful and holy ; or a life of hard struggle indeed, but great content and satisfaction, a peaceful death winning the glorious joys of Heaven ? " • ' • ' .•^* Edward turned away his head and made no response. His friend went on : " You remember that little poem by Gc^ethe which Eleanor read to us yesterday ? Wait and I will get the book : ' ■^•'^^•^''^' The future hides in it ''^'^ !^ i^'^'IJ r<:K'i^;^i.o I , Gladness and sorrow; i:i«i ju// ; ai(W/ ; « Ti ; J * i 1* We press still thorow, i • li , )iu u io Nought that abides in it i; (,»; ^/[.j ;/ Daunting us onward. ' , ' • . , , - , . ':«f lull l-.ilul I JiJ ' »»^^ ' Stars silent rest o'er us, . ' i i m i<*i • > 1 1 1 j j } i .'jijjl u> Gravesunder us silent !,i[>/A ,lij^/7*' >!.[ r{i)iii While earnest thou gazest,.,<^- I'i Comes boding of terror, . ' ... , j Comes phantasm and error , . , ,: , • , • Perplexes the bravest "^ .Jl'li^oq >in.. t ' ) n With doubt and misgiving, i i' i A ' BBOKKM BOHDI. 78 f 'ft ^ni T. But heard axfi the voice*,-—. , . r i >. Heard are the sages, ^' '^vp.ff ! The worlds and the ages : ' ' ' '»h ' » ^ " Choose well ; your choice u i tl hnli-. •; ; Brief and yet endless: ff^r' !:-;'.il »''.> ?ard V( I I', Ill t'j ■♦M'l •»<'*♦ .'ri.t Here eyes do regard you ^ In Etemity*s stillness ; Here is all fullness, Ye brave to reward you ; il'?jvi m-ita' Work and despair not." , )[>« t\'\'ff ^[>l"i "Yes Edward, there is great happinfess in store for you, for your mother, your sister, if you will but use all the power of your will in the coming struggle. Prove which is the stronger, your appetite or yourself. Don't let it conquer you, you with your manly strength of intellect, your noble moral nature. And then you have a work to do for Christ, and he is calling you very lov- ingly to enter his service. Choose well." ' • " Work ? There's no work for such as I; my work is among dry law books and musty parchments : no room for Christianity in them." " You do not know. Encourage some hearts by showing them how you can resist temptation. Add your share to the noble work of making this world wiser, happier, more worthy of its divine origin. What glorious possibilities for heroism in life, if only you will trust God to give you the strength you need. Have you asked iciv if 9" w B^oititt ^intbW. I "I have tried to, but it seetneA as if I spoke to the air. I have neglected him too long, dis- trusted his love and care for me. I used to be with Russell Stuart a good deal, and his cool self-possessed skepticism proved very attractive to my intellect. And yet I never have lost the faith of my innocent boyhood. Would to God I were back once more gathering daisies in the fields with Eleanor, — no thought nor care for the great throbbing world of experience, suffering and unbelief. " ''" " -^ " '''''' ■ 'l^^//'^^ "t. i ' A long silence between them. At last Ed- ward spoke again. ** Philip you believe in prayer: I wish you would pray for me so 1 can hear " M'*J"*> •• ^*'< ' Ji''w ynH>t lu 'f'i:Tt:»<'i'i»! So Mr. Seymour knelt by the bedside and ask- ed God, who like a father pi tieth His children, to help this prodigal son who had wandered so far, tO; arise and go to Him. To Edward it seemed that he had never before listened to a prayer so earnest, so sincere, so confident of a sure and speedy answer. The Redeemer seemed sensibly near, and there entered into his heart the certain assurance that he loved and forgave him, and^ would guide him onward in the best path which any man can choose, — the narrow path leading up to light. . This was the turning * point in Edward* Osborne's life, — henceforth he had new wishes and aims. His life certainly was not peaceful and calm, but a battle, a c mstant warfare ^ith BRORfiir B0m>8J l!I 75 '• the fearful temptations daily besetting him. To him that overcometh belongs a victorious crown, and he fought manfully and was brave and true. Difficult ? Yes ! but the reward of each faith- ful endeavor — release from the chains of his former slavery, made him reioice. .. , Ere the winter closed he was once more at his favorite desk in the office of " Kinglake, Dale and Osborne," and this was the crowning joy. ■ll\ii 'iiii H! I'll lli 'Jill;:' Oil r;,i .Jii n''lor.*:jid ■() }')i: -I m|j hij;; 'A ; Mir^d inui r"K«»i; viiunic ^iii -j."- .f.,vil)UH'-j; ').{ . r>llJijl'/t-li«K tll'»( MI'Jl |t}hM : .Mil >,'! ^jifioo ihr/ 11:// /ini'iT.i' v-;; .'!•)/*• h,'^ >'Vr,(t 1 1)/ ['.;•,•* v.; IK>*'^ ! w! '.i-'Ul IjOiTtiiUJ r»:-/1 .iTj.;)-! Mill • ; vinniijj'i '[■ jnOMi'o iji'J -ri*'»i// •>**«• I mth-i vh;: •I'jtiuu:! Jjjiii //'in'.'! I)! iii'jiuiij wjH'j ./•!(] nui i iifip. i 76 BBOKSV BOHD8. M'f*a ,j'»r» 'VTTAPTTTt? ft ! ^'' ^ ^ <''-'^^'M '* God's gi(^B put man'ibest dreams to ihame." — Mrs. Browning. ** This world is very lovely. Oh my God! I thank thee that 1 live. '•^^non. Mitx t/ui i!« /»»;5>»> .-.im iw/"^'" It was a chilly evening towards the end of May. To homeless Philip, as he came in from the blus- tering wind outside, the little parlor looked cosy and home-like; and the sight of Eleanor's face, bright and joyous now, made his manly heart throb with a strange, sudden hope. Despite his independent self-reliance, he associated her with his whole future happiness. . . Eleanor's thoughts were hard to analyze, but she found that evening the love and interest prayed for long fsgi^. ♦ '^ * * * " Nell, my darling, will you come to my wedding ? Before that heartless cousin of mine went to Europe I thought you would be married first, but you perceive I have got the start of you. Now you sit there as content- edly; looking so merry and roguish, just as if you were gomg to be married to-morrow. At any rate I see where the current is running ; and I am prophet enough to know that sooner BBOKSN BOITDS. 77 ft'! or later your boat will drift into the safe harbor of matrimony. Mrs. Partington would say who, who would ever have thought it ? Well, I hope you will be just as happy as Walter and I are, and expect to be forever. Isn't it nice and com- fortable to feel that you can make another happy ? It's even better than being happy yourself, although I repudiate with scorn the sentiment of that song Russell used to sing so much. What are the words ? Something like these : — " I am content to drink drops of enjoyment if only the fountain fall freely for thee. mnttj^jr. • ^ " I think I like pailfuls of enjoyment instead of drops," said Eleanor." i» iu i);>.nK>i i^t'iwjii* 1' " Or course you do, my dear. Oh! it is a base doctrine, and that cousin of mine would be the last man to sing it truthfully. He would want fully as much homage and reverence as he gave. Do you know that he is very cucnmbery towards me, because I will not bow humbly at his shrine? He would make a good Pope."'^ !.'.t..v'.h -if^ih^i 'Eleanor laughed : " But we would not be sub- missive cardinals. "*'^^'"»""^^ «^,.f.:.,f^»-.M, r,i f.^-f Then the talk drifted back towards the subject of the wedding. *' I had real difficulty in getting papa to promise that we need have no wine, Flo said. '' He affirmed that it would be absurd and singular. But I teased and coaxed ; and finally, cat-like, got my back up and firmly set my foot down, that 1 would have my own way. So the dear fellow was compelled to yield grace* 19 INBLQJLWf BCKNPa^ fully. I think I was in some measure excusable ; because I could not possibly begin [my married lite by intentionally sinning. It is a real trial to me that Papa is so indifferent. I believe that righteousness and sin are struggling for supre- macy in this world, and every careless^ in- different act of ours which is on the side of evil, is an obstruction in the way of the right conquering." " I es, but the righteousness shall reign from the rivers to the end of the earth." Nothing was hear.d for a while but the rustling of the wind in the elm trees outside the window. Then Flo hooked up from her work and said : " Aunt Stuart was he-e yesterday. She inform- ed ra€) that Leathdale is to undergo ei^tensive repairs for the reception of the bride. Tiiey are coming back the end of October. Report saitli that brought up in Boston, breathing that intellectual air, sne is very clever, quite a uiodern Margaret Fuller, devoted especially to German Literature. She would suit you there Eleanor. We must get her to disseminate some of this superfluous learn- ing over some of us less highly favored mortals.. . . Stop laughing Eleanor I You confuse and em- barrass me. YouVe been just bubbling over with happiness lately. Your pails are too full of joy altogether. I ought to dip in a tea-cup and take some out." " I am very happy it is true, " replied Eleanor earnestly." I even dielike to sleep for then I am BROXjilN B0(ND8. 79 able ; rried ial to that ipre- in- Q of right unconsciouB of it all. Such joy is almost too good to last." The sweet voice trembled. " Well, I don't wonder, when your home is so lovely. Your mother is a changed woman, and dear Edward is such a comfort to her. And your prospective husband is grand and noble, why Nell, I think you did well by giving up that heartless cousin of mine, and waiting two long years for Mr. Seymour." mm "I do too," said Eleanor laughing. "I am glad you like him." iiva.)". /i«hrr»!?in' 'hi H7/<:;> //'>•!}() Mii *ii5»h !!'f!l '>7it ffl.'i. f -^')l III Iffil ^«0 SBOKKK BOITM. I. or i-.ifii!/- r.l 7or r.'>',j'^< Aiw trio rini'^'iao-wu ' ffft ;.jj:.i. /^ r CHAPTER X. :f ' n-/.. * * Frir sind nie entfemter von unsern Wunschen aU Hfemi wir 14IW eivhilden das Oevmnsehte zu bedizen. — "Goethe. " We are never further from our wishes than when we imagine that we possess what we have desired." It wa8 a terribly stormy night ; heavy peals of thunder shook the windows, and every now and then the lightning flashed brilliantly in the room. The master of Leathdale was sitting by his library table bnsily writing. A tall, elegantly dressed lady sat in the shadow beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp, restlessly toying with a book, her bright eyes alternately travelling from it to the face of the absorbed writer. ?u. ? The clock struck eleven ; he tossed aside his pen and looked !ip. " Alice it is getting late. Had you not better think of retiring?" " W ho could sleep such a night as this ?" was the petulant answer. ^* Just hear that roar of thunder ! I declare Russell this old house will fall." He smiled provokingly at the speaker and turned back to his writing. But in less than five minutes he threw down his pen again and rose hastily, exclaiming : "I declare - •"' re jnfitsttw-m m^um^un BBOUUr BOKDB. 81 •rii • V /n - • , ethe. len we peals now n the 1 1 1 * ■ J i ; y hifi intly jircle with lling » his late. was r of will and his are I forgot to go and see that old servant. He maj be dead by this time, and John particularly re- quested my attention before I retired. Be sure and remain here till I return Alice. Accom- panying me would unnecessarily agitate your nerves. You may criticize my work ; that article is almost finished. It is against Ruskiu's theory." Fervently kisiing her he abruptly left the room. Up the stairway, through the long dark halls, the young man took his way. He never torgot the gloom, the sublime horror of this stormy, lightning-lit night. The secluded room which he reached at last was quiet and still, save for the low muttering oi the decreasing thunder. Mrs. Stuart was sitting by the side of a prostrate form on the bed ; her trembling fingers passing through the tangled locks of heavy grey hair ; > her eyes fixed intently on the worn features^ now , rapidly assuming the cold, unimpressible rigidity of death. >/trjii /itiVft'iir't \\nt\ (Hi«j Ufffj lif't H (T Her son threw his arm around her saying fently : " Mother, I should have been with you ut for the fear of exciting Alice's suspicions. She must not know of this* What ^ relief it- will be to you." i i ..- ^ : ^J .^^., The mother looked up, a glance of real joy lor a moment taking tlie place of the former hope- lest expression. *' Oh, Russell !" she exclaimed in a half whisper, " he recognized me just a few minutes ago. A Budt ^t »t that a di&- BBOKEN BONDS. 83 agreeable disease, will be buried secretly. Lock the doors securely, and leave the keys on my dressing table." " Very well sir." ^' ' Not more than twelve minutes had elapsed since Mr. Stuart's exit from the library. Its luxurious warmth and brightness contrasted pleasantly with the dreary desolation of the strange scene he had just left, and with a sigh of relief he rolled his easy chair towards the fire, and drew his not unwilling wife to a place on his knee. '* Is he dead V" she asked, "pushing back the hair from his forehead, and attempting to smooth out the furrows there. ' " T es, he had been sick a long time before you came to grace Leathdale. I wish the tact oi his death to be mentioned to no one. The ser- vants are so foolishly superstitious, and would likely draw most unflattering conclusions relative to our prosperity, because of one dying under our rooi on such an unpropitious night. She laughed low and musically. '* You are pale with apprehension and devout fears. Tha secret will die with me." '** ' '^ " Alice there are some cigars in that drawer, under those rolls of papers. May I trouble you ?" She went to do his bidding, but did not find them readily. ** Are they not there ?" he asked, lifting his eyes from the fire, where they had rested in momentary abstraction. ** Yes at latt ; and here is a photograph of your 11 to I 8^-^ BROKEN BONDS. ..! \l cbiisin Mrs. DaliB. Vf^liy quite a'nurabci' of otlVers also. I am going to look tbeiii over while you smoke." She brought him matches and citrars, and then sat down on a low chair at his feet,-— the position of all others he loved best to have her assume. ** This one of your motlier wben she was quite youiig is tine. How wonder- ful 13^ handsome ! She looks happier here than now, ' i t; least more spontaneously so. You kyiow I have not seen her all dcy ? She has kept her room so closely because of a rkckihg hea(Jacne. They must wear upon her." Alice was so intent upon the photographs that her husband's grave preoccupation was unnoticed. " I declare Russell here is one of you, — no — ^yes it must be so." .^ Per husband deigned no reply. "Did'^o'ti tear nie sir ? How sober you are ! I believe you are still troubled about that disagreeable death. There is nothing fearful in it ; Only a passing of the finit^e back to the one eternal and infinite substance. There is no consciousness beyond, no real immortality." .. ^ . ,. ,j ' ^'^' 1 "I know that, and yet fbe ctah^e is si^Ieitin.'' •'. She laughed at his shadowy f^ce. " By the way 1 looked at your manuscript. It is quite illogical in one place. Your reasoning' ib'bbscnre. It 1,8 my firm belief that your mind, tiiou^h wfell suited tor attainments in mathematics or natutal sciervce, is too unethereal in its te^tttil'e, tbr ti!:e comprehension of the motis stibtli' ndjrst^es of J^jKpEEN BONDS. 85 »j metaphysics. I wouldn't dip into them if I were you. You asked me to criticize, you know. 1 really do not think you auccesstully hold ground airainst Ruikin. I am quite in harmony with the theory you so loftily reject." The patronizing tone ol this criticism was ex- ceedint^ly distasteful to her proud liusband. He threw his cigar into the grate muttering some unintelligible words. Why could not the lady at his feet consistently have her words harmonize with her lowly position ? "I shall finish your production in the morn- ing, meanwhile will your lordship inform me if this be a picture of y- urself ?" ,, . . , '* It is my father." " How 3'ou do resemble him ! Wh}^ have you never showed me this before? He must have been about your age. How long is it since he died?" , Russell gave an almost perceptible start. His wife, busy in her examination, did not perceive the dark flush on his brow. ,^, .,.., He leaned over and took up one of the photo- graphs. '' Do you like that face ?" he questioned hurriedly. J .It was that of a young girl. The features were far from regular. The nose a little too ^ long ; the mouth imperfectly curved, and too firm for beauty, — but the eyes, oh the eyes I 8ach an expression of bright intellect, of strong ifkith and love in them. • ir ).\ , !':'llfJ* t'\ .11 {. 86 BROKEN BONDS. The lady scrutinized it long before she spoke. " There is great power in that face ; a strength and tenacity of purpose which would lead Tier over burninor lava it she were convinced that the right path lay through it.*' '' I onc3 bitterly experienced the shock of her obstinacy," said Kussell after a moment, a sneer disfiguring his line mouth. *' She was an infatu- ated fanatic." Longing to vent his vexation on something tangible, he tore the picture from his wife^ grasp, and tossed it into the dying embers of the tire. In wondering astonishment she watched the paper twist and curl by the action of the heat, till it was a trembling mass of blackness, then turned around for an explanation. The swollen blue veins in his forehead denoted intense anger, the usually apathetic eye shot sparks of fire. Her low amused laugh served to check the manifestation of his unmanly resentment, and his brow cleared. " Poor picture, the innocent cause of interrupting a profound physiognomical dissertation. Is it tne pleasure of your ladyship to come to bed ?" His manner showed he was in no mood for answering any curious questions she might ask ; and as she was strangely exceptional in being untroubled by curiosity this gave her no uneasiness. With elegant grace and not less admirable tact she resumed her former place, and laid her head liJ^kEir'i^dms. ij*r fearessingly on his broad shoulder. The depths of the man 8 strong feelings were stirred. Unpleas- ant memories of repulsed affection, of wounded pride, the now extinct photograph had invoked. In contrast, how gratifying the love ot this beauti- ful, intellectual woman, this queen of elegance, culture and fashion, as much superior to Eleanor Osborne, as the mountain in its lofty frandeur to the little projection nestling at its He forgot the irritation caused by her audacity in expressing dissent from his opinions. Perhaps he was in the wrong. Who knew ? As strange phenomena had been observed once or twice in the history of the world. ' '^J ^' ryni.i .-,. Three months ago had Russell Stuart been told that he would thus be acknowledging his wife's superior insight, and in a manner regu- lating his opinions by hers, he would have scorned the prophecy with disgust. Even now the tribute was rendered unconsciousl} ; he did not see that it was she who ruled. After a long pause she raised herself up and said demurely, " Now Russell I am ready to sleep. Listen ! the voice of the thunder is receding; the flashes of lightning growing faint and lew. In fact the storm is dying .••••• You will not think of undertaking that mysterious journey to-morrow ?" He laughed. "' There is no mystery in it Alice. A business friend has arranged to meet me at N ) a little village on the 6ea-Bhoi*e. 1 shall rs :68 ,»wwTO,pawp«. only stay there a couple of hours. By starting back on the iirst train L shall be here in time for dinner." *' And then we shall eive our party the follow- ing night } on know, fiy the way 1 want you to thoroughly understand that I do not sanction the use of wine at such assemblies. Wait ! listen till I finish. What is the use of these elaborate suppers anyway ? i'hey promote indi- gestion, intellectual stupidity, and take time which should be devoted to literary conversation. Now 1 am go-ing to work a reform here in this city. • • .But it is not wholly because of this that I ob- ject to wine. 1 will not consciously put this tempt- ation in the way ot the young men who visit me." " You miuit have a supper worthy of our guests and in harmony with our position, and you mi«^ have wine, Alice." ,, .. j,... - . . ** But I shall not have wine." * " Will you dare to go against my will Alice?" " Yes my dearest. I dare do anything 1 think is right. W^hat do you mean by so often saying I am queen of Leathdale,that I must rule everything according to my desire ? And now you are usurping authority, and trying your best to rule me. I don't go down to your office and give orders, and say you must use green sealing wax on all your letters, and throw away all your one- cent stamps I Oh Russell ! you must yield to me iu this. If you do not allow me to give my p^rty as I ys;iflh, yqu, will fipt a^e.^e present ^o grace it." BKUjIKSI !!^2ttM; 99'' She caught hold of hia hand and drew hig cloudy, almuBt angry face down to a level with her own. " What do you say Russell ?" He looked at her a moment in silence. Then he smiled and kissed her. " Well dear as you are determined, 1 suppose I ehall have to yield lor fear of punishment. I suppose you are right. My mother will agree with you thoroughly. * * Come dear, open uie door while I turn out the gas •V. ' i Oj ' < '■ ■'■'''* » , ■ V li ii" v/ >: '}■' it ;' ''I '.;.,; L • .' ■i 1 ' ! -,'\\ ■ , • ! 'I' I . jwii i! !. r: ; ' (.- i 111 ' 1 1 ' I . ; i ' • ■' .' ■" " . !- 1 1! 1 t)\xl 1 > 1 ''i • !i }". i^.is- •/ ■ .:■■> -n:' I'li-- ( •-■ i.-. Hii'/i I' • // 'iit ; »: IM ,'/, . ■' II. >/ <»(j. .'itHif ;; ■■i<'n\ ii i/ !', |.;' • .: U' 'mj - 'ji, >5^/.;.v y.j; to '}'•! )Sl .1) -h'.'.\\ .i|y/ •.-!.. .it i ,. "Jitl I ; .1 Wl!')' KI ii* •; ' i 'ill Ii vMI M»'« 7jil i -t . I jj Li' ' '*! ' ' ■ I t> ^i;; ill 'ii » >■ •'•?! I, ^i.l! "I 'iiii •>■)-; •!: i ' . .♦•..-! j1 ^' !». I f " ihi) -if) -^,)ii ri, Mji ' ;i y I-; // ; iiftni". ^I'j'c, ,•/ iMJ i t » 'JfJi J ''-ilf <'M t);f iti /-hi: ffi.f' oi+i ,|( );;.»' *)'' ! •sbir.).') ^Uol ;<*.! 1 I/.' m.F,; >. 4 iiO . / ,} ^ 9<1 i-!ii,!i iirJ . j IT .fHiiiiii-. j.tiiJuu ii xi :M')iI'i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ /. /- I/. 1.0 l^|2£ 12.5 1^ 1^ 12.2 I.I l^ ^ m 1.25 1 1.4 |l.6 - 6" V] <^ /] / > '^:> .-^ v * '/ f Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 145S0 (716)«73-4S03 s 90 BBO£B])il pONI>S«. r J (!'■•/ !')/■{! ■; < f ! I ' //< >h Tf .i' '/•■■•> 1 :■ ' -. f • !; 7 , ' • : I I , ' CHAPTER XI t , ti In all battles if you await the issue, each fighter has prospered according to his right. He has fought with all his might, and has prevailed. His very death is no victory over him. He dies indeed, but his work lives, very tru I y lives." — Carlyle. j; ,> "Will you draw the curtain back a little %rtlier Eleanor, so I can see the sun come up from behind those hills in the distance? How beautiful and blue they look in the morning mis>t. *"»<•* When every thing else is so silent and hushed, how strange the roll of the surf sounds. It is so monotonous and deep." '* Yes, it is indeed the bass in the harmonious anthem which nature is singing to God. And Edward, it is so restless, a symbol of the working of our immortal and infinite minds. Do you see those white crests on the top of the waves as they roll up on the beach and break ? Let me raise your head a little higher." "That is better... ..I can see the blue waters stretch away as far as the eye can reach, and then they blend into the blue of the sky. Oh Eleanor what glorious clouds I so clearly does the water catch the reflection that there is a double sunrise. The sun must be i 1 BROKEN BONDS. 91 i almost at the top of that hill which looms up to the sky like a tall sentinel on guard ; for see the fog is lifting ...... I wish Philip were here. When did you say he would come ?" " The train is due at seven." " Then he will be here soon. Will it be very long ?" and Edward sank back on the pillow. " Just an hour and a quarter. You are tired waiting. I wish you could have slept more in the night. Don't you feel any better, Teddie?" She came and sat down, her face full of loving anxiety. He drew her to him, saying gently : ** Eleanor the end has almost come. I feel and know that when that sun rises to-morrow morn- ing I shall be with God. Oh think of it ! If this world is so fair and beautiful, its music so sweet, what must Heaven be ?" ; He felt her trembling, but could not see the tearless grief in her face : " Don't grieve darling. Why should you care when I have been only a troul)le to you for so long. Oh what would have become of me without you. God pity the poor fellows wb ; have no sisters to love and trust them, when every one else is cold and skeptical." '* Edward, Edward, how can I let you go," came from the very depths of his sister's heart. * " Eleanor give me your hand, — there I How cold you are I Now 1 must talk to you for a minute while I can. It has been so hard to live, — a constant struggle with myself and with evil ; io h^r4 to jtsifiit the p^iBtii^ons of jny.forttii^r 9fif^ Bftbiffi* t6i7as ycry pale, save for the 94 BBOi:EN BONDS. } hot flush on his cheek, and Eleanor saw plainly what she had before tried hard not to see,that deatn had indeed set his seal upon it, and would soon claim his prize. Could she yield this beloved brother to God who gave him, and without a rebellious murmur see him go away into that spirit-land, where she could not follow, nor her voice recall him ? Truly she needed strength to brave this swift approaching trial in resignation. Prayer is the only refuge when those we *' lean on most and love the first," are being removed from the mists and vapors of earth into the bright sunlight of the presence of God. But she could not pray, — only strive to control the aching of her heart while waiting for the consummation of the mystery. Nothing broke the stillness in the room, but the loud ticking of the watch on the table, and the subdued, never ceasing roar of the billows on the distant sea shore. At last Edward stirred. She was immediately at his side. " Isn't it time Eleanor ?" The weary longing in his voice touched her. " Yes darling, it is ten minutes past seven. I haven't told you before for fear you would antici- pate too much ; but 1 expect both Walter and Flo. I heard from them last night. Don't be disappointed if they don't come." At the same moment the door was opened gently. A glad surprised exclamation came from Edward, at BKOKJEN BONDS. d5 sight of Florence's soul-cheering face and Mr. Dale's familiar figure. Mr. Seymour brought up the rear with Mrs. Osborne. There seemed nothing wanting now to complete Edward's happiness. The long painful day wore away and still he lingered. He had not strength to talk much. He told his friends what they were to him, how much he loved them, more by smiles and loving looks than words. How precious Eleanor was to him was best shown by his desire for her con- tinual presence — restless and disturbed if it was withdrawn even for a moment. But how hard the day was to her no one knew. Whenever Edward slept and the necessity for control was not for a time imperative, Philip could see by the firmly compressed lips and the tightly drawn lines between the eyebrows that the noble heart was intensely suffering. But she showed nothing but brightness and tenderness towards the dying brother. Though her strength was beginning to yield she refused to be separated from him, and insisted on sitting alone with him the first part of the night. At one o'clock Mr. Seymour came to relieve her, but he paused on the threshold of the room. Eleanor was sitting on the bed, her hand clasped in Edward's. The light from a shaded lamp showed that a great change had come over his face, and while her's was calm in its I 96 BBOKEN BONDS. gravity it was exceedingly pale. Philip won- dered when her strange self-control and fortitude would cease. He softly stole away to bring the others for he knew the end had come. Edward s])oke no more, though it was an hour after that before he died. They needed no as- surance by wonh that it was well with him. His recent lite had been almost exceptional in its beauty, — an unmistakable record ot the depth of his repentance and the btrength of his will. ,, ,, * . '!...:. '* After life's fitful fever he slept well." ! ' 1 ! ; ; .' . '/ • M , . , !•:"". ' I "I ■ » I ;■!;,• ' • ■ ' ' r j ' f : • li t i • ,\ l- 1 I 1 t ::-\ t ■ I ' > ft ' ! •I :'., J ?i' i I - '1 M ii ' ■•'».! t. i i'\ ■! U'V-' -''l i f ! •• ■ ■ BTtbKEi^ B6i^i>if; or WOTl- itude g the hour o as- His n its bthof til,'. ■; . , ill (I '>,.■-. CHAPTER f li ■'! !M;t i.. • . • , • > • K . , - "'I - . i I J: );. •' ' ( . . 1 : ' ( I • *f Men's deeds are fair enigmas, let man solve thei^ ; , But men's dark motives are in the books of God. " ' Lord^'L^iton. During the rest of the night, there' Was enongh' for Eleanor to do to eftectually prevcht her fi^om' seeking the quiet and solitude her spirit craved. Not even Flo's gentlness could soothe Minnie. Nervous and excited by the strange solerririityof the death scene, she demanded th6 most wi^fi' judicious care. Mrs. Osborne indulged in the most violent hystel^ics, selfishly exagg^'rating her own sorrow with no apparent conception of the pain she gave those who had more power of self-control. At last in the early dawn of the moining she yielded to Mr. Seymour^s persuasions and went to' bed. Minnie had already stmk into a restless, feverish sleep, her hand tightly grasping Eleanor's. Eleanor was leaning torward/her other' haild covering her eyesf, when the wutchfhl Flo camb up to her and whispered: 'Can't we transf^^t* hands Kfell ? She' Will nevfer kndw th^ diffeMice and thieti' you' cstn go ^Way for a' littli^ Whild.^',. ESeafldi^^did'-nc^^pfcni't hW-'eydl^t^y itJiftt ^tlidib I r 98 BBOKEN BONDS. of her friend, — her own Florence, whose pre- sence and sympathy were doubly precious in this her great trouble. She silently signified assent and the change was accomplished without disturbing the sleeper. The next moment she was gone. On her way up stairs she was met by Mr. Seymour, carrying heavy shawls and wraps : " I was thinking you would like to come down to the beach and see the sun rise," he said in response to her enquiring look. " Your mother is sound asleep. Will you come ?" « , " Yes indeed. I will get my hood." "Stay: I have it here," he replied arresting her hasty steps. She smiled at him, — a smile full of meaning, though she said nothing while he deftly fastened her cloak around her neck and put on her warm hood. " This almost hides my darling's face," he eaid, " but though hidden I can see it all the same We will need these shawls to sit on because the rocks are damp. Yesterday I discovered a charming little nooK behind an im- mense rock, nicely sheltered from the wind and out of sight of every one who might be strolling on the beach. "Will you be warm enough now, Eleanor? Wait just one moment while I get my coat." He opened the hall door while sjeaking and she stepped out. The sunless air was damp and \ jabi|ly,f #1^4 witt, • ; norvpfas , shiver sbe djew the < foldt of ihe clOBk tighter around her Hird^t. BROKEN BONDS. 99 jIIjOA^ ptill everything was in the early hush of the ii?ior ring ! A thrill of pain shot through her heart as she recalled the morning before, when ^(iward had so truly prophesied what liad come to pass. The crisis she had anticipated with so much dread, the long looked for change had come, and it was all so strange, so sad and lonely. Now no answering smile would flash bark to her from the eyes closed alike to earth's beauty and love ; the hand would never more grasp her's with the firmness born of their strong affection and reverence for each other ; the brother and sis- ter had parted company, and until the blissful meeting in Heaven there would be silence be- tween them. , ) , The dew yet lay on the grass and on the planks of the garden walk. 1 he not far distant waves rolled untiringly up upon the white sand of the beach with their usual dull monotonous Narrow shafts of light shot up from be- roar. hind the far off hills, — sure promise of a sunrise, glorious in beauty and entrancing loveliness. It took them but a short time to reach the spot Mr. Seymour had chosen. A high precipitous mass of rock behind and on one side, between them and the village ; on the other side a sharp declivity reaching clear down to the waters' edge. Before, a command- ing view of a vast expanse of sand and rocky d6biris; then beyond, the faint beginnings of vegetation, the ground getting gradually higher * 12 100 BBOKKK BONDS. and higher, ending in the grand insurmountable hills, rising one behind anomerin solemn majesty and beauty, wooded to their summits. Spreading the shawls upon the ground and seating himself his back against the wall of rock, Mr. Seymour drew his wife down to a place by his side ... Oh it was sweet his tender care and watchful love — the sense of protection his pre- sence gave, the feeling of rest in his strong arms I There was something soothing even in the beat of the waves against the rocks far down below them ; something invigorating in the cold sea air which blew her brown hair into disorder and touched with rosy freshness her pale thin cheeks. For a long ti»ne neither spoke. Silence was most expressive in such a place, — alone with nature and their own thoughts *' What are you thinking of Nell ?" Mr. Sey- mour asked at last, more for the purpose of saying something to change the expression of her face, than to break the spell of silence. Her color deepened, and the dark eyes flushed with tears. " I have read somewhere Philip, that the passing away of a single life is but a ripple on the vast ocean of humanity, and I was thinking that though true in regard to the great universe of souls, to some hearts it comes as waves and bil- lows of trouble. And I thought too of him, where he is now, if he can see our sorrow^ and yet not be glad that I am here with you. .Oh it IS so comforting that I have you to love ! _, ! BBOKEir BONDS. 101 I can't Philip exactly express my thoughts as they come, you must imagine them." He bent his head and kissed her fervently. " God grant me worthy of this trust," he said with a tremble in his voice. ** I know that before I met you I was all alone in the world, and my love is now concentrated on you as its only centre. I can never be to you what you have been and are to me dear Eleanor, but I am glad that in this terrible loss of yours, I can be a comfort to you." After that a long pause occurred. The cease- less washing of the waves against the rocks beneath the sole accompaniment to their earnest thoughts. Eleanor was very tired. Intense feeling and an equally strong government of that feeling, had made great demands on her physical strength. She felt she could not talk. The morning train whizzed past and did not rouse her from her reverie ; the loud joyous ehouts of the children down on the beach fell unheeded on her ears. But she did not miss the beauty of the clouds and the lights and shadows on the mountains, caused by the rising sun ; and yet it had touched with glittering gold the tops of even the lowest trees, — and there were broad streaks of wavy sunlight all over ihe ocean, ere she spcike. What disturbed her was the creaking of a heavy footstep on thp other side of the rock, and the 102 ■■1 ■/ ■( / ■! '-; I > BBOS^EN BO sound of a well-known voice clear and distiiiict in the morning air. Startled and surprised she raised up and looked at her husband. " Will they see us here?" she asked excitedly. " No, sit still. The wind brings their voices toward us, and they are not really so near as you imagine. But if we left this place they would see us." "I suppose then we will have to be eaves- dioppers against our will," she answered, sitting down once more. The next instant she heard these words uttered in a clear distinct tone : "Now at last we are away from all prying eyes and ears. What a nest for curiosity and gossip this little seaport town is ! Well Lucy, I don't see why you sent for me. Many men would call me a fool for coming, but you see I have not as hard a heart as you think. Didn't I give you enough to satisfy you ? You may thank that confounded Seymour for your good fortune. And yet in less than three years you petition for more." ■" " ' '"''" -'•' " Sir I tell you again," answered a sad, sweet voice almost too faint for the listeners to hear ; " that it was my brother wrote to you. He's took my money time and again and a few days back he said that if J didn't ask for more he'd kill me. I said no, and he was that drunk you know : well these ugly marks on my arms is his work. Indeed I was shocked to see you come by the train." BBOEfEN BOlirbii. 103 It in i;; tnd us 'OU " I'heii yon weren't as glad to see me as you used to be to see the lovesick, foolish youth, who thought an hour spent with you a pleasant change from dreary college work and musty books ?" " Oh Mr. Stuart, don't speak of those days ; I can't bear to hear you." , " Well don't cry, — you were a mighty pretty girl then, and I loved you heartily. I was awfully sorry 1 couldn't marry you ! But you know that with your educational and social disadvantages, you would not be a fit wife for me." " Yes, I know it." ^ :;"': /'■'.:''• ^'''': "I was glad you had the good sense to so bra,vely hide your tears. They do annoy me eo. Your sweetness made me doubly regret the necessity for giving you up ; and yet such regrets and partings are inevitable in this world." " And your wife now ; is she very sweet and pretty?" : " She is handsome Lucy ; tall and distinguish- ed, graceful and charming." ' . - " Yes. She was heiress to two hundred thousand dollars when I married her." ■ ^ " Rich — handsome — and you love her ?" ' !^ " Indeed I love her. How otherwise ?" '( '^'^ The girl caught the softened accent of his voice, and added in a breathless, constrained tone: "I hope you make her happy. Let me see^ you 104 BBOKIN BONDS. told me the lady you were going to marry had dark brown hair and eyes — beautiful eyes you said ; yet she wasn't tall nor rich." *• Confound your memory ! That's not the one. She refused me point blank when I got home. I'm glad now she disappointed me for I found her obstinate and self-willed." *' I couldn't believe that. I liked her face ; somehow felt that she would do me good if I could tell her what my life's been ; she'd give me sympathy and tell me how to live and do what's right. There's been a lady here the last two weeks that reminded me of the picture. I saw her one day walking on the beach, a tall, very sick-looking gentleman leaning on her arm. She looked so sweet and sad. I watched for them after that, and saw them every day until a week ago. The last time she was alone, way down on the other side of the old wreck. She'd no idea any one saw her, I was behind a rock and she was crying very hard." (Mr. Seymour glanced anxiously at Eleanor ; her hand was covering her eyes, but he noticed it was shaking with nervous excitement ) " Have you got her picture here 1" The gentleman's Yoice was raised in angry response: "No I have not, and I wouldn't show it to you if I had. If you mention the lady again I'll , well our business is finished. 1 want it clearly understood that I shall not again answer in person any appeals made by you or BfiO&SH B0HD8* 105 '! any of your friends. I will arrange that you shall have a certain sum, payable every feix months, drawn by you alone. That will prevent foul play." ' *' i$ut Mr. Stuart 1 don't want your money !" " Independence does not agree with your fentle clinging nature my pretty Lucy. It shall e as I will. I feel sure you will never cause me tro^uble because I trust your love for me. And I hope our lives will not again intermingle. I wish to forget the past, its unpleasant facts I mean. I have many plans for the future. I may be a senator yet Lucy. My political influence is increasing. A great care and anxietv night before last was removed from my mother's mind, and in her happiness I cannot but join. We expect to have a brilliant time next winter. I shall feel more at ease consequently if I know you are not suffering." "Suffering! Oh Rus- — " ; ,' " Hush Lucy, not that lamiliar name, remem- ber. We are total strangers from this hour. Good-bye Pshaw ! this match won't burn ; you have strong breezes here. I wonder if I can get a boat at the Ocean House ? The sea is very tempting. I believe I will stop over one train and go out, even if I did promise my wife to be home to dinner What a splendid place this is for private conference I Good enough even for the divulgence of State eecrets. When I conspire against the Govern- m. BROKEN BONDS. ment, I shall bring my confederates here to arrange our mode of action. Ha-ha ! Well good- bye Lucy. Keep up good spirits." ; '' The odor of a fine cigar was borne towards the unwilling hearers of this strange dialogue ; and again the heavy footstep crunched the gravel. iNot pausing, it went swiftly down the hill towards the sea-shore, — finally was lost in the distance. A few minutes after a lighter step took the opposite direction towards the village ; and Eleanor and Mr. Seymour were once more alone. Mr. Stuart's incautious words had broken most unpleasantly on the general tendency of Eleanor's previous thoughts. All the associations cluster- ing around the many happy hours of their former friendship, came thronging to her memory, curiously blending with feelings of surprise, abhorrence and regret, — the reality of fact thus conflicting with and modifying tne hues of past fancy. Brightening these thoughts, was intense thankfulness that her insight into his character, motives and impulses, had been clear and accurate ; that her judgment had not been blinded by his fascinating magnetism of manner, the glitter and show of his ialse deceptive life. : Not then could she speak of her feelings to Philip ; though in obedience to an uncontrollable impulse, her lingers tightened their grasp of his, — tnute language which he understood and silently appreciated. ~' . .^r ere to Igood- rdsthe ; and gravel. He hill in the 5r step illage ; 3 more m most eanor's minster- former emory, irprise, )f fact tines of :s, was Qto his in clear ot been lanner, life. ^^ ings to •ollable fhis, — BBOCEN BOin)S. idf A few honrs after, an idle stroller on the beach noticed far out upon the ocean an oarless boat driven hither and thither by the contrary action of wind and tide. Even while he looked, a huge wave dashed over the frail boat, aiid when it rose from the submersion, it was bottom upwards and the outline of a man's figure could be dis- cerned clinging desperately to the keel. To the curious crowd, fast gathering, the alarm was given too late to render the contemplated as- sistance effective. The next moment the boat struck a high projecting rock, and man and boat parted company forever. When at last the fitful wind had grown steady, blowing landward, and the sun was low behind the mountains, the cold, lifeless body of Russell Stuart drifted high up upon the sandy beach, — almost the same spot from which in the morning he had started in the pride of manly strength and selfish power. The plans for the future which his egotism had gilded with brilliancy, and to which hope, love and ambition lent charm, had ended m retri- bution lor the past, — swift, unexpected, terrible. ■i! A riO (!'Iii- !;i <.V)'3t' -•'I'C'f";,'' '^ '. Ml"// • liliJ'.'! --lit!' lull .ti'Mf ■ '^^.^feljfltei^, ' --..iLi-'inv/ >.,.l{ ,'" y.'V.no'lLb) -i'. .^ VifiiJoi: ).•;<. i;.' > 'Jilosic; Hull i.)Vful 19 m BBOKEZr BONDS. 1 r CHAPTER XIII ** Tho* much is taken much abides ; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are we are: One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, ar i not to yield. " Tenny^on*s XJlysiu, Our storj is done. It has given but faint flimpses into actions and motives, and events, as traced in mere bare outline fragments of the lives of a few people, in no way remarkable for either talent, beauty or goodness. And yet if considered well there is meaning in such unre- markable conditions as even these,— they ar^ closely linked with the great actions which are 9een to influence tlie world. There have lived at different epocht; of th^,, world's history, heroes whose deeds of brfty.^rj, and skill have excited admiration and won fame. Monuments are reared to their memory — mausoleums which sometimes become shrines for hero worship, — idolotry of great men. But the world's moral rictoi^ and tpiritual heroes have not shone conspicuously in its chronidea. u tlBOmES BOKDt. lOd Their progress and success have often passed un- recorded, save in the hearts of the few who knew and loved them. It was thus with the friends to whom we have now to say farewell. The life they contrived to live could not be spoken of as either illustrious* or widely known ; yet it was great and true and beautiful. Indeed often shadowed by dis- appointment, and failure ; yet brightened by not imperfect love and joy. Biest with quick sympa- thy and regard for the welfare of others, they were strength to the weak, perpetual inspiration to those who had not climbed as high the heights of life or seen as far as they. ^ * * Human happiness is incomplete and brief; possessions change hands, or vanish utterly away, but character endures as the chief corner-stone of the structure which the soul of man is building, — built indeed in time, but if founded on the '' Rock of Ages," shall remain unshaken by the swift, overwhelming billows of eternity's vast ocean. THE XND.