5THNWOOD 
 
 BY- LUCY- GIBBONS -MORSfr 
 
* 
 
 T 
 

ittcp (0tf>ijons Jflorsc* 
 
 THE CHEZZLES. A Story for Young People. Illus 
 trated by the Author. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
 RACHEL STAN WOOD. A Story of the Middle of the 
 Nineteenth Century. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK. 
 
RACHEL STANWOOD 
 
 A STORY OF THE MIDDLE OF THE 
 NINETEENTH CENTURY 
 
 BY 
 
 LUCY GIBBONS MORSE 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1893 
 
. , Copyright, 1893, 
 Ij/L.UCY GIBBONS ,I 
 
 " ti rtff!ii$ reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 
 
TO THE MEMORY OF 
 MY FATHER AND MOTHER 
 
 JAMES SLOAN GIBBONS 
 
 AND 
 
 ABBY HOPPER GIBBONS 
 
 THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY 
 DEDICATED 
 
 M32945 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A DOOR ON THE LATCH 
 II. FRIENDS AND FRIENDS 33 
 
 III. " HAWYET WILSON " ... 71 
 
 IV. MlSS MACCLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER 
 
 V. GETTING EEADY 1( 
 
 VI. GRACE DESBOROUGH 
 
 VII. THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIR . . . 1< 
 VIII. FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION 
 
 IX. A SLEIGH RIDE 185 
 
 X. TIBBIE LEARNS ABOUT ORGAN STOPS . . 194 
 XI. TIBBIE AND HAVILAH ...... 205 
 
 XII. DEUTERONOMY xxvm 
 
 XIII. THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S . . . 226 
 
 XIV. RACHEL S TALISMAN 245 
 
 XV. AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP 254 
 
 XVI. ANOTHER DIFFICULTY FOR THE DESBOROUGHS . 269 
 XVII. IN THE OFFICE OF THE NEW FIRM . . .281 
 XVIII. ELOISE MEDDLES AT THE RIGHT MOMENT 
 XIX. A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS . ... 297 
 
 XX. DANGER 315 
 
 XXI. HAVILAH 335 
 
 XXII. TRACING FOOTSTEPS 
 
 XXIII. ANSWERS TO CERTAIN QUESTIONS 
 
 XXIV. Miss GRAYTHORN EXPLAINS THOROUGH-BASS TO 
 
 GRACE DESBOROUGH 
 
 XXV. IN THE NAME OF THF. LAW 375 
 
 XXVI. ANOTHER LAW . 
 
 XXVII. " FAILED ? " 39 " 
 
 XXVIII. Miss MACCLARE S POPULARITY . . . . 40C 
 
 XXIX. THE STANWOOD CODE 413 
 
 XXX. HOME .427 
 
 XXXI. RIGHT-ABOUT FACE! 437 
 
RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. *. A:, a 5; Vi 
 A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 
 
 TEN years or thereabouts before our civil war, in 
 the city of New York, in one of the cross streets 
 between Ninth and Tenth avenues, Twelfth and 
 Twentieth streets, there was a row of six three- 
 story, red brick houses with green blinds, high door 
 steps, and small, neat grass plots in front. The 
 houses were numbered from 264 to 274. In the 
 grass patch before No. 268 a honeysuckle vine was 
 planted and trained upon wires so as to conceal the 
 drain -pipe and climb almost as far as the top of 
 the parlor windows. In front of the house, by the 
 curbstone, were two flourishing young horse-chestnut 
 trees with tall, green-painted wooden pantalettes on 
 their trunks for protection. There were no other 
 trees on the block, the main part of which was 
 occupied by vacant lots and lumber yards. Along 
 Tenth Avenue, where the Hudson River Railroad 
 ran, was a row of irregular buildings with shabby 
 stores on the ground floor. 
 
 In the Ninth Avenue quarter of the block above 
 stood the ponderous house and stable, greenhouse 
 
2 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 and garden of the Theophilus W. branch of the 
 great Yon Storaway family, but, from their in- 
 closure to the coal yard 011 the Tenth Avenue corner, 
 were only other vacant lots and a row of low wooden 
 shops occupied by mechanics. 
 
 NoS 26,8 was the home of a Quaker family named 
 . Stan wood, Friends Joseph and Deborah Stan- 
 wood . and /their children, Rachel, Elizabeth, and 
 Richard. They were among the most liberal even 
 of the liberals of the Hicksite Quakers, and were 
 interested, practically, not theoretically, in reforms. 
 First and principally they were abolitionists. Their 
 house was a regular station on the Underground 
 Railroad, being one of the safest and best refuges 
 in the city for runaway slaves, and at the time of 
 conventions or reform meetings it was crowded 
 with visitors of every shade of complexion, from 
 white to darkest African. 
 
 The Stanwood family went in a body to reform 
 meetings, from which the children came home with 
 all kinds of badges, which it delighted their souls to 
 wear, red, blue, and white ones for the republic 
 France wanted; red, white, and green ones for 
 Hungary and Kossuth; green ones for oppressed 
 Ireland; Am-I-not-a-Man-and-a-Brother ones for 
 the slave, etc., etc. The family hearts bled to 
 gether for the slave, for Hungary and Poland, for 
 the emigrant, the impecunious foreigner, the unsuc 
 cessful artistic or literary genius, professor of 
 science, or scholar who could speak seven languages 
 but could not earn a living in one; for the prisoner 
 whose trial was pending and the discharged convict 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 3 
 
 who had to begin all over again to make life respect 
 able ; for the saint, the sinner, and the sinned against, 
 and for abused, suffering children everywhere. The 
 Stanwoods closed their hearts to nobody. They 
 never had a servant who was not either a fugitive 
 slave, a newly arrived immigrant or a discharged 
 convict. In one department or another there was 
 always in the house some special sinner (or sinners) 
 in process of reformation. 
 
 On a certain morning in September, Mrs. Stan- 
 wood and her daughter Rachel were busy in the 
 large second-story back room, which they were pre 
 paring for an expected guest. The room properly 
 belonged to Rachel and her little sister Elizabeth, 
 but they were to move themselves and their belong 
 ings into the little front-hall bedroom upstairs. 
 
 Mrs. Stanwood was forty-seven, short, and in 
 clined to be stout. Her light brown hair, begin 
 ning to silver, was brushed down smoothly over her 
 temples, turned behind her ears, and twisted into a 
 knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were more 
 noticeable because of the quick, direct way they had 
 of seeing instantly what they looked at, than for 
 their color, which was blue. She had still a remark 
 ably fresh complexion, and when she smiled showed 
 the prettiest of teeth. For typical Quaker serenity 
 she was too active; every motion betrayed her 
 energy, but she was deft, not bustling, and it was 
 curious, watching her, to notice how few motions 
 she wasted. She looked as if it would be difficult 
 for her, even at meeting, to do nothing but sit still 
 and look placid. She wore a gingham dress of the 
 
4 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 finest possible check, black and white, the neck of 
 it cut so as to show just a fold of white lace crossed 
 underneath, over her bosom. She had on a long 
 white apron, but she did not wear the white ker 
 chief usually adopted by Quaker women of her age ; 
 she said it required too much time to adjust, and 
 that it made her warm. 
 
 Her daughter Rachel, who was twenty, was tall, 
 finely formed, and very handsome, with a fair skin, 
 dark hair and eyes, and color which flashed easily 
 from throat to forehead. She had, in addition to the 
 quick, effective movements of her mother, a carriage 
 that was noble. She was habitually too grave, but 
 her smile was of rare sweetness. She had on a cot 
 ton gown dotted with tiny pale blue sprigs and fitting 
 her perfectly. She, too, wore a long white apron. 
 
 Mrs. Stan wood was getting clean sheets from a 
 linen closet in the entry, just outside of the room 
 door. 
 
 "Mother," said Eachel, raising her voice and 
 laying her hands on the mattress which was turned 
 over the footboard of the bed, "does Frederika 
 Bremer sleep on a feather-bed?" 
 
 "She oughtn t to; it isn t healthy," said Mrs. 
 Stanwood, coming into the room to see the mark on 
 the corner of a sheet. "These are the ones. Put 
 the feather-bed under, where it belongs, and we will 
 change it, if she prefers." 
 
 Rachel gave the feathers a heave toward the head 
 of the bed and turned the mattress over to its place. 
 
 "These are mended; don t thee want the best 
 ones? " she asked, looking at the end of the sheet 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 5 
 
 which her mother tossed to her from the opposite 
 side of the bed. 
 
 "I m afraid they are all mended, dear; these are 
 the best," said her mother, and smiled while she 
 added, "but if Frederika notices them at all it will 
 be because of the neatness of the mending, so thee 
 need not be troubled." 
 
 When the bed was ready, all but the coverlid, 
 Mrs. Stan wood brought in from the linen -closet a 
 many-colored patchwork spread. "Oh, mother, not 
 that frightful thing!" exclaimed Rachel. "Miss 
 Bremer will have nightmare under it." 
 
 "Now, Rachel! She will appreciate it, and will 
 admire every patch when she learns its history," 
 said Mrs. Stanwood, stroking it. But Rachel was 
 evidently not going to accept any defense of the 
 article, for, while her mother was speaking, she had 
 procured from the closet another spread of light, 
 flowered chintz. 
 
 " Now there, mammy dear! " she said coaxingly, 
 taking the patchwork one away and tossing it 011 a 
 chair. " We 11 tell Miss Bremer the history of 
 every orphan at the asylum who sewed a stitch of it, 
 and she can put it into her next novel, if she wants 
 to, that is, if she can invent a character with taste 
 bad enough to submit to it." 
 
 "Well, well; it does n t look ugly to me," said 
 the little lady, smoothing the chintz cover on her 
 side of the bed. 
 
 "Of course it does n t," Rachel exclaimed, " be 
 cause thee does n t see it. Thee sees nothing but 
 the orphans sitting around and quilting it for thee, 
 
6 EACH EL STAN WOOD. 
 
 and every orphan is a beauty, in thy eyes. But it 
 is hideous to behold, mammy dear, and the only way 
 to use it will be to put it, wrong-side-out, under the 
 outer spread. Too late for that now. If thee s 
 broken-hearted, I 11 put it on Abner Cumley^s bed, 
 if he conies ! " 
 
 "Child! child! I in afraid thee does n t appre 
 ciate him, either," said her mother, but with lurking 
 amusement in her expression. 
 
 "Yes I do, but I d like him better if he d fix his 
 hair like an ordinary Christian. I don t see any 
 virtue in being outlandish," Rachel said. "But 
 since he likes that sort of thing, let him sleep under 
 the orphans quilt." 
 
 "Well, have it thy own way, dear," said her 
 mother, "and make haste to get the rooms ready, 
 for we have a busy day before us. When thee is 
 through up here, will thee take a look at the parlors 
 and see if they are all right? " 
 
 "Yes, I will, providing" - and Rachel, smiling, 
 waited for her mother to ask, "Providing what?" 
 
 "Providing thee won t bring out any more offer 
 ings of gratitude. Thee has had a perfect deluge 
 of them lately. And don t thee go mousing round 
 after me and find out how many I ve hidden away. 
 Don t miss anything, will thee, thee naughty little 
 mammy? " 
 
 "That reminds me; get me my birthday china 
 from the second shelf in the spare-room closet," said 
 Mrs. Stan wood, moving away an armchair from the 
 bedside and placing in its stead a small mahogany 
 table with a drawer in it. 
 
A DOOE ON THE LATCH. 7 
 
 "What on earth is it for? " asked Rachel, return 
 ing with a cherry-wood tray on which was a little 
 single service of delicate china. 
 
 O 
 
 "I am going to send Frederika s breakfast up to 
 her and I know she will enjoy it more out of the 
 birthday offering of my children. She has an 
 eye for the beautiful," said Mrs. Stanwood. 
 
 " And one for our convenience as well, if she only 
 knew it," said Rachel. "We can get through all 
 the morning work before she comes down. I 11 
 bring her breakfast up myself, Harriet would 
 sprinkle it all the way along. Only this tray won t 
 be big enough." 
 
 "Oh yes, it will," said Mrs. Stanwood, putting 
 some napkins into the table-drawer. "There! I 
 must have clean napkins and an extra knife, fork and 
 spoon kept in here. She doesn t want anything 
 for breakfast but a cup of ca-fay and a potato 
 which she wants me to have boiled in the tea-kettle, 
 to save trouble. Now, can thee do the rest alone? " 
 
 "Of course," said Rachel, "only let me under 
 stand about the others. Frederick Douglas is to be 
 in the front room upstairs, and Abner Cumley is to 
 go into Dick s room?" 
 
 "Frederick Douglas s room is all ready," said 
 Mrs. Stanwood, looking up from the staircase, which 
 she was now descending. "Don t fix Abner s room 
 until I send thee word, as he may not come. If he 
 does not, thee has only Betty and thyself to look 
 after, when this room is finished." 
 
 It was very evident that the prospect of Miss 
 Bremer s visit was agreeable to the family, for, in 
 
8 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 a moment or two after Mrs. Stanwood had disap 
 peared, there was a breezy movement on the stairs, 
 and a round-faced, hot little boy of eight, breath 
 ing hard from running, came into the room with a 
 bunch of asters which Rachel barely prevented him 
 from dumping upon the bed. He delivered his 
 message in phrases suited to his breathing, getting 
 rid of it as soon as possible. "Father cut those 
 for Miss Fred rick Douglas and Betty s going 
 to get her a bunch too n so m I cause she s 
 going to tell us some stories put em in water." 
 
 Eachel corrected him as to the name. "Yes, I 
 know," he said, wiping the perspiration from his 
 face with his sleeves. "An Mr. Somebody is 
 coming an he s to have my room an I m to sleep 
 in the trundle-bed an that s all." And he was 
 off, clattering down the stairs with frightful ra 
 pidity. 
 
 It was not anniversary week, but the coming of a 
 crowd of guests was so common an event that the 
 family were never either surprised or disturbed by it. 
 The children were accustomed to giving up their 
 rooms and beds to visitors, on the shortest notice. 
 In their early childhood they became used to being 
 awakened by their mother saying, 
 
 "Too bad to disturb thee, dear, but I want thy 
 bed for company; thee get into the trundle-bed." 
 
 They would make the change only half awake, 
 curl up in the trundle-bed and go to sleep while she 
 was tucking them in, learning, as they grew, not to 
 stretch too much. 
 
 Richard was the only one now who could adapt 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 9 
 
 himself to the little bed. His hurry to get down 
 stairs was that he might rejoin his father, who was 
 doing some work on the grapevine over the hen 
 coop, and was in a hurry to go down town to his 
 business. 
 
 Mr. Stanwood was a little over fifty, with a spare 
 figure, irregular, sharply cut features, straight, 
 iron-gray hair, and dark eyes which were rather 
 dreamy but which lighted up easily, particularly 
 with an appreciation of the comic. His forehead 
 was full and high, and his face, being smooth- 
 shaven, showed the lines upon it prominently. 
 
 When Eichard reached the garden, his father 
 was talking with a singular-looking gentleman. It 
 was necessary to get over the effect of his hair and 
 beard before looking at the rest of him. Both were 
 chestnut brown; his hair dressed in tight, springy 
 curls which reached his shoulders, and his beard, 
 full and wavy, falling half way to his waist. In 
 contrast with the rather prevailing fashion of shav 
 ing the chin, the hair upon Mr. Cumley s head and 
 face presented a striking appearance. It was the 
 only part of him upon which much care seemed to 
 have been bestowed ; below that his interest in him 
 self seemed to die out. His head seemed to be 
 made for ornament, the rest of him for use. He 
 was tall and of a somewhat clumsy build. His 
 clothes, which were of a homespun order, had seen 
 better days; and he wore stout, serviceable shoes. 
 His face, what could be seen of it, was not unpleasing. 
 
 It did not prepossess Richard, however, for he 
 planted himself at his father s side, watched the 
 
10 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 gentleman a minute and then said to himself, 
 "That s the feller what s going to have my bed." 
 
 Richard did not object to anything about him but 
 his curls. While he was looking at them, Mr. 
 Cumley was saying: "It looks as if the under 
 ground railroad would be in active service within a 
 day or two, and as if an express train might have to 
 start any minute from this very place." 
 
 "We will be prepared for an emergency," said 
 Mr. Stan wood. "The hencoop way is safe and 
 Harriet is warned, so that she will escape, even if 
 her master comes here for her." 
 
 "Thee has neglected to introduce me, Friend 
 Stan wood," interrupted Mr. Cumley, seeing Rich 
 ard scrutinizing him, and afraid the child would 
 understand too much of what his father was saying. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Stanwood, his seriousness 
 transformed, at once, into beaming pride in his lit 
 tle son. With a pretense of having something of 
 great importance on hand, he turned to Richard, 
 whom he hastily put through a formal presentation 
 and hand-shaking, and said: "This is my head 
 workman Mr. Trudge. Friend Cumley, Mr. 
 Trudge. Yes, sir! Now, Mr. Trudge, we are 
 obliged to leave you to pile this rubbish into the 
 wheelbarrow and carry it to the corner heap. 
 You will find your wages this evening, sir, in my 
 left-side vest pocket. Good-morning, sir! " 
 
 "All right, sir!" said Richard, in a gruff voice 
 intended to sound like a laborer s, and proceeding 
 at once to rake up the grapevine cuttings which 
 strewed the path. 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 11 
 
 Mr. Stanwood looked at Mr. Cumley to see 
 whether his son was fully appreciated, nodded his 
 acceptance of that gentleman s rather absent-minded 
 interest, and disappeared with him into the house 
 by way of a broad piazza which overshadowed the 
 kitchen windows. 
 
 Behind the little yards belonging to the row of 
 houses, extended, on one side of the Stan woods , va 
 cant lots with here and there low temporary build 
 ings, for the most part occupied in the day-time 
 only, by working people. Beyond the lots were 
 factories and an iron foundry. On the other side 
 was a large lumber yard which reached back to the 
 street in the rear. For a small sum Mr. Stanwood 
 had obtained permission to fence in the lot behind 
 his own yard, and had converted it into a beautiful 
 garden. It also reached to the rear street, to which 
 there was an exit through a door cut in the fence. 
 Around the edges of the garden were rich grape 
 vines and wide flower-beds which were always bright 
 with the season s flowers. There were crocuses, 
 hyacinths and tulips in the spring, and all summer, 
 richly bordered with mountain pinks and sweet alys- 
 sum, were beds of petunias, Johnny - jump - ups, 
 pansies, roses, coreopsis, and what the children liked 
 best, phlox and larkspur. They liked them because 
 they could make such pretty little wreaths and chains 
 with them, and the middles of the larkspurs pulled 
 out so neatly and fitted so exactly into one another. 
 Then it was fun to make fairy cream-pitchers and 
 shoes out of the lady s-slippers; but the prettiest 
 thing was a teapot made of a crab -apple by biting 
 
12 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 off a bit of the long stem, sticking it, bulgy end out, 
 for a nose, into one side of the apple, and turning 
 the rest of the stem over and sticking it into the 
 opposite side for a handle. 
 
 Surrounded by lumber yards, factories and noisy 
 workshops, with engine smoke floating over it when 
 the wind pleased, it was a rare and lovely home- 
 garden, with an abundance of flowers and a crop of 
 both fruit and vegetables large enough to supply 
 the family and leave a generous share for others in 
 many a time of need. In every part it gave evi 
 dence of a genius for making the most out of every 
 thing. 
 
 Wherever there was an immovable, misshapen 
 rock, vines were trained, or an arbor built over it, 
 and the inexhaustible imagination of Mr. Stanwood 
 created a romance to suit it. There was very little 
 money in the family, and imagination was cultivated 
 largely to take its place. An old, dead apple-tree, 
 cut down and sawed up, provided a gnarled, de 
 formed piece out of which dear old "Benjamin 
 Bump," the children s rocking-horse, was made; 
 another grotesque bit made "Timothy Tickleboy," 
 a sort of familiar, who was fastened up by the hen 
 coop to frighten away witches from the new little 
 chicks; and the smaller twigs of the old tree were 
 used for a fence around the petunia bed. The very 
 clothes posts were invested with personality and 
 made interesting. Being originally too high for 
 convenience, Mr. Stanwood sawed off the tops and 
 converted them into a family of dolls for the chil 
 dren. He painted expressive faces on them, and 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 13 
 
 the cross-pieces which had served to wind the lines 
 on answered for arms. They were called "The 
 Timberkins" and lived in the deserted hencoop. 
 
 The hencoop had been deserted for some years; 
 in fact, hens enjoyed its privileges for only one 
 season. The family imagination surrounding them, 
 as it did everything else, made it impossible to put 
 them to ordinary uses. The family rebelled at 
 sight of a fricassee made out of " General Fluff and 
 his wife! " It became difficult to reconcile the fam 
 ily conscience even to taking the eggs and thereby 
 disappointing the hopes of motherly hens. The 
 Stanwood purse could not support hens on these 
 principles, and they were finally transferred to 
 Uncle Thomas Fitch s farm. There was also, at 
 the far end of the garden, a deserted pig-sty which 
 had a similar history. Two cunning little white 
 pigs had once been styed there in the neatest and 
 most approved fashion. They were fed and talked 
 to over their fence, and learned to run, the moment 
 anybody appeared, to have their backs scratched 
 with long sticks kept for the purpose. But they 
 grew, and the time of sacrifice had to come. "Dar 
 by and Joan s " spareribs were not any more appe 
 tizing than the Fluff fricassee had been, and the 
 pork was sent to Mrs. Stanwood s pet institution. 
 The sty was converted into a diminutive chip yard 
 where twigs and cuttings from the garden were 
 thrown. A little blacksmith-shop had been recently 
 put up next to it, and Elizabeth and Richard liked 
 to stand on the sty-fence boards to look through the 
 side window and watch the men make horseshoes. 
 
14 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 After his experience with the hens and pigs, Mr. 
 Stanwood abandoned all attempts to imitate farm 
 life in the city and devoted himself to his garden 
 only. 
 
 The hencoop where Richard was at work was on 
 the western side of the garden, against the fence 
 which was next to the lumber yard. On the oppo 
 site side, playing by herself in an arbor, was Eliza 
 beth. She was ten years old, with golden hair, 
 deep blue eyes which were always dreamy, a fair 
 complexion, and expressive rather than pretty fea 
 tures. She was seated on a small rustic chair sew 
 ing, with her work-basket on a large rock which was 
 against the fence at the back of the arbor. 
 
 There was a looking-glass on the rock, leaning 
 against the fence. Elizabeth was making herself a 
 fancy apron, like her friend, Eloise Desborough s, 
 and had brought the mirror from the house because 
 it was necessary to see how it fitted. Eloise s was 
 made of India muslin, and Elizabeth was making 
 hers out of an old window curtain her mother had 
 given her to cut up. The Timberkin family were 
 standing on the rock, either side of the glass. Eliza 
 beth s method of sewing was interesting, but it was 
 not the method of an expert. All her cutting, fit 
 ting, turning of hems, adjusting, etc., was carried on 
 with her needle and long thread in her hand. Her 
 intention was to have them ready for use when 
 needed, but the result of her forehandedness was 
 much snarling of thread, dropping of scissors, the 
 slipping away of her needle, the discovery, just 
 when her fingers were pinching a difficult place to 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 15 
 
 be secured by a stitch and saved from readjusting, 
 that her needle was unthreaded, and so on. 
 
 Her work proceeded through many tribulations, 
 because of that needle and thread always pinched 
 up in three of her fingers, leaving only her thumb 
 and forefinger for service. But she was intensely 
 interested in what she was about, and never seemed 
 to lose her patience. Presently it was time to try 
 on, and laying down her work, she took off the 
 apron she was wearing (it required much skewing 
 and hitching of herself to get at the buttons behind), 
 and put on the new one over her straight-waisted, 
 plain-sleeved, pink gingham dress. The effect was 
 disappointing. "If my waist would only slant in 
 just a little! she thought. "And if mother only 
 wouldn t tell Miss Stepson, when she cuts my 
 dresses, to leave room for me to grow!" But 
 Elizabeth s waist was uncompromising; her form 
 generally was like a pillow. " If Rachel has some 
 lace to give me to sew around the bib, and some 
 ribbon to make bows for the pockets, that will make 
 it prettier," she thought. 
 
 She had to stand on her chair to see in the glass 
 better. In the midst of patting the folds into place 
 she was attacked by a day-dream. "My dear," she 
 said, addressing one of the Timberkins, "I shall 
 wear a pink velvet drqss with a long train, and you 
 must put on your white satin, Polly. Dolly and 
 Adeline," indicating the two Timberkins opposite 
 Polly, "will wear blue silk dresses, and Amelia 
 Agnes Low will wear purple satin." She turned 
 sideways to try to get a view of her back in the 
 
16 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 mirror. It could not be done. "Oh certainly ! " she 
 exclaimed, smiling loftily upon Agnes Timberkin, 
 who had made an imaginary remark. "They are 
 all coming to the ball, and they will see that you 
 are not beneath their notice, my dears. Do not be 
 at all troubled about them, and be sure, when you 
 see how surprised they are at your magnificent ball- 
 dresses, to tell them that the Queen sent them to 
 you. Then they will see that you are very impor 
 tant ladies, and they will never again call you clumsy 
 or frightful." The Timberkins here held quite a 
 conversation, for Elizabeth laughed, nodded and 
 made various gestures to them. Presently she said 
 severely, "I am very glad you did, for it will teach 
 them a lesson !" Then she made another effort to 
 see her back in the glass. While she was working 
 at it, she remarked: "We must be sure to be 
 dressed early, because the Queen is coming to tea. 
 She is going to wear her best crown and her white 
 gauze dress trimmed with diamond fringe, because 
 she"- 
 
 " Betty, I say ! " her brother Richard roared in at 
 her. She gave a start which shook her off her chair 
 and made her stagger. Her visions were dispelled, 
 and Richard s angry little face, smeared with dirt 
 and perspiration, was squeezed in between the vine- 
 branches at the side of the .arbor, glaring at her. 
 He was angry because he had something intensely 
 interesting and mysterious to tell her and she would 
 not hear him. The success of having frightened 
 her off of her chair appeased him. He shouted 
 with laughter and ran around to the arbor entrance. 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 17 
 
 They had to have their laugh out before Richard 
 could speak. But what he had to communicate was 
 serious, and presently he arrived at it. 
 
 "I ve found out where it begins! " he said, look 
 ing about to make sure that nobody heard but Eliz 
 abeth. Her day-dream had been so vivid that she 
 was slow to understand. 
 
 "What? "she asked. 
 
 "Hush! I know it s a secret; whisper! I ve 
 found out where it begins! " said Richard. 
 
 "What begins? " asked his sister. 
 
 "Come closer! Somebody might be climbing the 
 fence to listen," he whispered, drawing her out to 
 the path. He looked about in every direction and 
 then said mysteriously, "The Underground Rail 
 road!" 
 
 "Oh, Dick! " said Elizabeth, as if it was a great 
 discovery. "Where is it? How does thee know? 
 I don t believe thee does." 
 
 "Yes, I do!" said Dick, wagging his head and 
 looking as wise as Solomon. "Only nobody knows 
 that I ve found it out, and I won t tell I 
 wouldn t tell a slaveholder, not if he was to kill 
 me!" 
 
 "Of course not, but I don t believe thee knows 
 really and truly," said Elizabeth. 
 
 "Yes, I do!" said Dick, confidently. "I heard 
 Mr. Cumley tell father that a spress train was going 
 to start on the Underground Railroad right from this 
 place ! An after they d gone, I found out where 
 they meant. / knew I d find out sometime ! I ve 
 been just watching to find out and I listened with 
 
18 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 all my might as soon as father an Mr. Cumley 
 began to talk about it. Oh, yes! 1 heard em! 
 They didn t think I was understanding em, but I 
 was ! Hm! I know more n they think I do." 
 
 "Dick, I believe thee s just making up," said 
 Elizabeth, suddenly incredulous. "I ve never seen 
 Mr. Cumley, and thee don t know even what he 
 looks like." 
 
 "Yes, I do!" said Dick, so sure of his ground 
 that he raised his voice louder and louder while he 
 said, " His hair is parted in the middle and brushed 
 flat and rounding each side of his forehead, and then 
 it s put behind his ears, and the rest of it is tight 
 curls down to here," touching his collar-bones. 
 "They bob up an down when he walks, an I hate 
 him!" 
 
 "So do I," said Elizabeth, knowing her senti 
 ments at once. 
 
 "But he let out the secret that time," said Dick, 
 "and, if thee wants to see where the Underground 
 Railroad is, come along and I 11 show thee. Thee 
 can t see from here. I m glad I know at last." 
 
 "So am I," said Elizabeth, looking for her hat. 
 "I ve asked father and mother and sister Rachel, 
 often and often, and they never tell me so I can 
 understand." 
 
 "I know something else too," said Dick. "Har 
 riet-- There! Look, Betty! Did thee see that? " 
 He caught her dress and drew her back behind a 
 lilac bush, peeping around it as if afraid somebody 
 would see him. 
 
 "See what? " whispered Betty. 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 19 
 
 "Harriet!" whispered Dick, peeping around the 
 bush again. Betty tried to see too, but perceived 
 nothing. Dick looked up at her with big eyes and 
 whispered, with his forefinger significantly raised: 
 " She s going to take the train ! Sh-sh-sh ! Father 
 told Mr. Cumley he d tell her to get ready. An 
 I saw her just now run inside of the hencoop just 
 as fast as she could go ! It s there, Betty, I saw 
 it. I went in to get my ball, an I saw the boards 
 of the fence loose, an I took hold of one an it slid 
 right down, an I looked behind an it was like a 
 little, dark, crooked entry with the lumber piled 
 over it ! You could crawl along just as easy as 
 anything right to the undergroun railroad cars, I 
 know you could ! Come look in the coop and see ! 
 There! " he exclaimed softly as a shrill engine-whis 
 tle sounded from Tenth Avenue. "Hear that?" 
 Betty nodded. "That s the train going," said 
 Dick. "Harriet s gone; come into the hencoop 
 and see if she has n t." 
 
 They took hold of hands and trod on tiptoe, as 
 if they were conspirators. "I saw Harriet rush 
 in," said Dick, on the way; "I guess she was afraid 
 of being late for the train. But she was n t late ; 
 for I ve been looking at the hencoop ever since, an 
 she has n t come out again." 
 
 They stood at the coop door and peered inside 
 with their big eyes. There was the place in the 
 fence, with two boards misplaced, and nothing but 
 darkness in the opening. "See? She ain t here 
 she s gone on the train!" said Dick, gratified 
 to see Betty forced into conviction of the undenia- 
 
20 BACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ble truth of his statements. The coop was a very 
 large one, covered with heavy grapevines which 
 cast their shadows over the hole in the fence and 
 gave it additional mystery in the eyes of the chil 
 dren. They carried their inspection a little further, 
 peeped through the opening, were satisfied that it 
 led to a part, certainly, of the underground rail 
 road, and then returned to the arbor to play. They 
 had scarcely done so when Mrs. Stanwood came 
 rapidly from the kitchen, down the path, went into 
 the coop and replaced the fallen boards. Without 
 pausing an instant, she then went to the end of 
 the garden, undid the fastenings of the door in the 
 fence there, opened it and looked up and down the 
 rear street once or twice, closed without fastening 
 it, and went quickly to the vegetable-bed, where she 
 began to pick some tomatoes, with deliberation 
 which seemed inconsistent with her quick move 
 ments up to that minute. She glanced once or 
 twice up at the parlor windows, with an anxious ex 
 pression. Her mind was evidently not at all on 
 the tomatoes. Half of those she gathered were un 
 ripe, and she carried them into the house in her 
 apron, a thing the children had never seen her do 
 before. She hesitated as she passed the arbor, as 
 if the sight of the children suggested something to 
 her, but immediately seemed to set the thought 
 aside. "Having a nice play?" she asked, but did 
 not wait for their answer. She went into the 
 kitchen and at once stepped to the side of a colored 
 woman who was nervously washing some dishes at 
 the sink. 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 21 
 
 "Now, Peggy," she whispered, "if thee shut thy 
 eyes when I told thee to, thee did not see which 
 way Harriet went and thee does not know where she 
 is. " 
 
 "No, miss; don t be feerd. I ain t gwine to 
 know nothin . Mebby she went out froo de front 
 basement," Peggy said, clattering the dishes more 
 than was necessary. "But ef dey doan see me 
 shake, it 11 be de wuk o de Lawd, dat t will! " 
 
 "Here," said Mrs. Stan wood, coming from the 
 closet with a wooden bowl and chopper. "Thee can 
 shake all thee wants to at this work ; I 11 do the 
 dishes." She emptied the tomatoes into the bowl 
 and directed Peggy to sit down and chop them up. 
 
 There was the tread of feet in the parlor, over 
 head, and the sound of men s voices talking loud. 
 Eachel, with her light step, appeared at the kitchen 
 door, had a whispered consultation with her mother, 
 and went upstairs again. Mrs. Stan wood looked 
 out into the garden in the direction where the chil 
 dren were playing. She shaded her eyes with her 
 hand and peered, this way and that, under and 
 around the vines and bushes. "They could not 
 possibly have seen anything from there," she said 
 to herself and went to washing the dishes. 
 
 Mr. Stanwood and Mr. Cumley had not, as little 
 Dick supposed, left the house. Mr. Cumley came 
 now down the piazza steps and around to the kitchen 
 window, where he, too, had a whispered talk with 
 Mrs. Stanwood, after which he went down the path. 
 He passed the children at their play and stopped to 
 speak to them. Then he went to the end of the 
 
22 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 path and out of the door in the fence which Mrs. 
 Stan wood had unfastened. After he left them, the 
 children looked at each other. 
 
 "He 11 be too late," said Dick. 
 
 "I guess he 11 take another train and meet her 
 where she gets off," said Betty. Dick assented to 
 the probability, and tucking the four Timberkins 
 under their arms, they went behind the bushes. 
 
 When Kachel left the kitchen she went up to the 
 parlor, where her father was having a controversy 
 with a tall, large-faced Southerner and a constable. 
 
 When Rachel entered, the Southerner was say 
 ing angrily: "I have a warrant to search your 
 house, sir, and shall proceed at once to do so, if 
 you do not deliver up my slaves, Harriet Wilson, 
 Havilah and Diana Moore." 
 
 "Let him search, father; he can begin in the 
 attic," said Rachel. 
 
 The Southerner looked at her contemptuously and 
 said: "Your invitation is too cordial, madam. My 
 slave is evidently not in the attic, and you wish 
 only to deceive me." 
 
 "Address thy remarks to me," said Mr. Stan- 
 wood, severely. "Thy warrant permits thee to 
 search my house, but not to converse with any 
 member of my family. Offer the slightest disre 
 spect to any one of them and I order thee to leave 
 the premises." 
 
 " By - The Southerner began an oath, 
 
 but the constable interfered. 
 
 "Let your feelings simmer on the back of the 
 stove ; you 11 miss what you re after if you boil 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 23 
 
 over!" he said. "Take the lady at her word and 
 begin upstairs." 
 
 But the Southerner demurred. After a little al 
 tercation he said insolently, that, inasmuch as per 
 mission to search the attic had been volunteered so 
 freely, he would prefer to have the basement floor 
 inspected first. 
 
 Entering the kitchen they found Peggy chopping 
 the tomatoes and Mrs. Stanwood putting the dishes 
 away in the dresser. 
 
 "Mother," said Mr. Stanwood, "these men have 
 a warrant to search the premises for three people 
 whom one of them, Mr. Suydan, I believe, claims as 
 his property: has thee any objection? " 
 
 "None at all," said Mrs. Stanwood, with quiet 
 deliberation, selecting a pile of saucers and fitting 
 them with precision into a particular corner of the 
 shelf. She deliberated too long and kept them 
 waiting until the Southerner was irritated. 
 
 "We have no time to waste, madam, and must 
 proceed at once," he said, trying a closet door and 
 finding it locked. 
 
 "Wait a moment, friend, if thee pleases," she 
 said, looking over her shoulder at him. "I am 
 busy here and cannot be interfered with. The 
 upper part of the house is open to thee, and thee can 
 postpone this part until I am ready for thee. The 
 keys are in my pocket, and thee cannot look far 
 without them." 
 
 "Take your time, ma am. The gentleman can 
 wait," said the constable, whose sympathy was drift 
 ing toward the occupants of the house. 
 
24 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "I cannot wait, and your remarks are not called 
 for, sir," said the Southerner, testily. 
 
 "All right, sir! I m willing to waste all the 
 time you are," said the constable, and he looked on 
 in amused silence all the while Mrs. Stanwood was 
 fitting her keys into several doors, unlocking each 
 in turn, and waiting with aggravating precision to 
 fasten it again, after the Southerner had made his 
 inspection. After a quarter of an hour spent in 
 this way, Mr. Suydan said, impatiently turning to 
 Mrs. Stanwood: "Perhaps, madam, you are willing 
 to affirm that nobody is concealed on these prem 
 ises?" 
 
 "Does thy warrant require me to affirm?" she 
 asked him, quietly. 
 
 "It gives me power to search the house, madam, 
 from ground to roof, and it may save you trouble to 
 answer a question or two. Here you! " he cried, 
 losing temper and turning to Peggy : " How many 
 more niggers are there here, besides yourself? If 
 my niggers were n t hidden yer somewhere you d be 
 
 ready enough to say so, any one of you, and by 
 
 I 11 have every corner of the place ransacked! " 
 
 "I ain t afeerd! " said Peggy. "7" ain t seen no- 
 Vdy ! " and she chopped furiously at the tomatoes. 
 
 "We ll examine the yard!" said Mr. Suydan, 
 peremptorily. He strode into the garden, command 
 ing the constable to follow and perform his duty. 
 The constable went, protesting, "It s all a clean 
 waste of time, mister; what you re looking for ain t 
 here." Mr. and Mrs. Stanwood and Rachel followed 
 the men in their inspection of the garden, Rachel 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 25 
 
 going at once to find the children. They had left 
 the arbor and were discovered first by Mr. Suydan, 
 whose eyes had soon lighted upon the hencoop as 
 a likely place to look into. Elizabeth and Rich 
 ard were inside of it, sitting on an overturned box, 
 plump up against the loose boards, two of the Tim- 
 berkins in the arms of each. They looked excited, 
 but amused rather than alarmed. 
 
 "This is my children s playhouse; they are not to 
 be disturbed in it," said Mr. Stan wood. 
 
 "You can both see all there is to see from here," 
 his wife said, at the door. Mr. Suydan had entered 
 the coop. Rachel, white and trembling, stood close 
 to her mother. Both of them were breathless in sus 
 pense. If the children innocently should remain 
 where they were, the search might be diverted from 
 that place. Elizabeth and Richard did not budge. 
 
 "Is anybody hiding here?" demanded Mr. Suy 
 dan of them. "I am looking for three niggers who 
 have run away from me, children two women and 
 a little girl have you seen them? " 
 
 There was an instant of silence. Out of their 
 innocence the children might help the fugitive. 
 "Hush let them answer," said Mrs. Stanwood. 
 Mr. Suydan had repeated his question. 
 
 "It s swearing to say nigger! " said Richard, 
 red in the face. The constable roared. 
 
 " You can tell the gentleman if you have seen two 
 colored women, beside Aunt Peggy, with a little 
 girl," said Mrs. Stanwood, smiling at the children, 
 reassuringly. 
 
 "No, but we would n t tell anybody, if we had," 
 
26 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 said Kichard, looking full into the face of Mr. Suy- 
 dan. 
 
 Mr. Stanwood beamed, and exclaimed, behind his 
 wife: "You are answered, sir, and can pursue your 
 investigations elsewhere; my children have nothing 
 more to say to you." 
 
 "But there s something to tell thee, father, wait ! " 
 cried Dick, and planting his Timberkins 011 his seat, 
 he followed Mr. Suydan out of the coop, and stand 
 ing before his father said he wanted to whisper. 
 Mr. Stanwood went aside with him and bent down 
 to hear. "Mr. Cumley told us to tell thee he was 
 going to meet Harriet at the station an take her 
 right along on the underground railroad. He went 
 roun that way," Dick pointed to the door in the 
 fence, "an he was too late to go in the same train 
 Harriet went on. Betty an me heard that train go 
 off, but Betty says Mr. Cumley was going to meet 
 her where she got off the cars." 
 
 Mr, Stanwood laughed aloud and put his hand 
 on Dick s upturned forehead. Dick s face was all 
 puckered with the seriousness of the message. Mr. 
 Suydan was expressing his annoyance. 
 
 "I am convinced that my slaves are on your 
 premises, sir," he said, "and I will have them. I 
 will have you summoned to appear in court, sir, 
 and I will "- 
 
 " It is unnecessary to threaten ; neither thy threats 
 nor thy anger disturb us," said Mr. Stanwood, his 
 face so cleared of anxiety that his wife s and daugh 
 ter s also wore relieved expressions. "I am not re 
 quired to give thee any information concerning the 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 27 
 
 people whom thee calls thy slaves, but, if thee would 
 like to hear a message I have just received about one 
 of them, I will ask my son to repeat it." 
 
 Dick thought his father most unwise to allow 
 Harriet s master to know so much about her, but 
 he repeated the message when he was told to. The 
 constable roared again with laughter. Mr. Suydan 
 was enraged and began to use rough language. 
 The constable interrupted him : 
 
 "You re wasting every minute you spend here, 
 Mr. Suydan," he said. He was not over anxious 
 to have the slaves escape, but his duty was disagree 
 able to him. He was irritated, too, at the South 
 erner s blundering way of going at the business. It 
 was easy for him to perceive that, whereas in the 
 beginning Mr. Stanwood had been anxious to avoid 
 the carrying into execution of the warrant, he was 
 now not only willing to allow the search but would 
 like as much time as possible spent in the opera 
 tion. The constable had hinted several times that 
 they were wasting time, but Mr. Suydan had not 
 heeded him, and was angry now because he laughed 
 at Dick. He turned upon him, and said, with a 
 sneer : " Perhaps you know what that gibberish 
 means and where to find this station of the under 
 ground railroad! For all I know, you and the 
 d d Quakers are in the plot together." 
 
 The constable lost patience and answered, - 
 
 "No, sir, I don t know, but if you wish to stay 
 here and find out, while your property is making 
 tracks for Canada, / ve no objection, an may be 
 the gentleman here and his little boy 11 help you ! " 
 
28 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Certainly!" said Mr. Stan wood, with anima 
 tion, rubbing his hands caressingly over Dick s 
 shoulders. "My son will tell you all he knows 
 about the underground railroad, won t thee, Dick? " 
 
 But Dick backed into his father and cried an 
 grily, "No! I 11 never tell him, never in all my 
 life, an he needn t ask me! " 
 
 "Are you satisfied with your inspection of the 
 garden, and will you proceed with the search in 
 doors, gentlemen?" Mr. Stanwood asked. There 
 had been enough of his boy in the conversation, and 
 he was ready for a diversion. 
 
 "There ain t a bit of use in it, I tell you, sir!" 
 the constable said, in an undertone to the South 
 erner, who turned to him. 
 
 "We will call again, or you will hear from me in 
 a way you don t expect! " Mr. Suydan said to Mr. 
 Stanwood, as that gentleman opened the front door 
 to let them out. 
 
 "I believe the whole business was a put-up job," 
 Mr. Suydan growled, as they walked away. "What 
 makes you so sure that the niggers aren t there?" 
 
 "Because I m not a jackass! " the constable an 
 swered, with a strong temptation to emphasize the 
 pronoun. "Because it was as plain as daylight," 
 he said aloud, "that the more time you spent in the 
 house, the better you d please the parties in it, an 
 the more time you d give the person who gave the 
 child that message to get off with one of your nig 
 gers and hide her in a new place. I saw, the min 
 ute that pretty young woman put in her oar and 
 invited us to search the attic, that the game was up 
 
A DOOR OX THE LATCH. 29 
 
 there. An then what the boy said showed as plain 
 as day that the only one of the niggers they d had, 
 had been sneaked off, while you were talking, 
 most likely." 
 
 "Why the devil couldn t yo say so, and show 
 them up then and there?" asked Mr. Suydan in 
 wrath. 
 
 "Begging your pardon, sir, I tried to get you to 
 give up and come away, but you wouldn t," replied 
 the constable. 
 
 "Do you mean to say yo don t believe those 
 people know where rny slaves are? "asked Mr. Suy 
 dan. 
 
 "They re too smart to know," said the constable. 
 "I tell you, sir, there ain t a lawyer in the country 
 that can come up with one of those regular nigger 
 abolitionists. Take any one of em and he d put 
 you off the scent just when you thought you had him 
 sure ! Get him in a tight corner, and I tell you, 
 sir, it takes the judge and jury all together to get 
 him there, an I 11 just show you what I ve seen 
 em do. There they are in court, with the lawyers 
 piling questions on em, an knowing they won t lie. 
 They know that, and they can t catch em, with 
 all their cross-questioning. The abolitionists have 
 got more ways of getting out of the way of the law 
 than the lawyers have of getting into it! I ve seen 
 em leave the whole court more uncertain where to 
 look for a nigger than they were before they began. 
 And yet every fool knows that, if they want to, 
 they can get at a runaway nigger as straight as a 
 shot aimed right at a mark. Take that Mr. Stan- 
 
30 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 wood, for instance. When we went into his house, 
 likely your niggers some of em, or all of em 
 were there, hid downstairs. But that fellow the boy 
 gave the message from was there, too, don t you 
 see? We go in, and he goes out a back way, with 
 the niggers. Or else, may be the niggers were n t 
 there, nor haven t been there, nor aren t going to 
 be there, do you suppose Mr. Stanwood is goin 
 to let us find that out? No, sir! I ve been em 
 ployed on this kind of business a good many times, 
 and I know a good many of the ways of abolitionists. 
 He d keep you on the scent round his house just as 
 long as you d stand" it. He d do it to keep you 
 away from some other house, if he had n t any other 
 reason. I tell you, sir, the abolitionists are the 
 greatest secret society ever invented. Their se 
 crets 11 never be found out, either, and by thun 
 der ! even their very babies are in em ! " 
 
 While they continued their conversation, Mr. 
 Stanwood, upstairs, was coaxing out of Elizabeth 
 and little Dick all that they knew about the under 
 ground railroad. 
 
 It might not have been in strict accordance with 
 the principles of Quakerism, but he certainly al 
 lowed some most astonishing statements to pass 
 without correction, and even went so far as to say 
 to the children that, whether he agreed with them 
 or not, their theories were "harmless and very safe." 
 
 The boards in the fence under the hencoop were 
 again displaced in a little while, and a very dark 
 negro girl of about eighteen crawled through the 
 
A DOOR ON THE LATCH. 31 
 
 opening and darted under the grapevines into the 
 kitchen. Mrs. Stanwood was dismayed. Peggy 
 gave a yelp. 
 
 "Why, Harriet!" Mrs. Stanwood exclaimed. 
 "A gentleman went to meet thee, and " 
 
 "Ya-as m! " said Harriet, laughing to hurt her 
 self, and showing very white teeth. "He was thar, 
 missus. We was listenin at de crack in de fence, 
 an ef de chillun had a run, we d a cut. But 
 we heerd em talkin , an he! he! " The girl 
 doubled herself up with laughter. When she could 
 again speak, she wiped her eyes with her apron, 
 and said, punctuating her words with chuckles, 
 " Massa Dick, he say to Miss Betty, We 11 set 
 yer, right at de do ob de unnergroun railroad, 
 an ef anybody comes long, we won t let em git 
 past. Harriet went off in another gale, and, 
 when it was over, said, "Massa S dan, he ken try 
 his bes , he ain t no match fo li ll Massa Dick! 
 B lieve Mass Dick d heabe de hull Timberkins at 
 im fo he d a let im in at dat tunnle do ! So 
 de chillun dey stuck dah, an de gentle m w at was 
 takin change o me, he says I bes come back, coze 
 de him tin party s off de track! " 
 
 "Well! " Mrs. Stanwood exclaimed over and over 
 again, and seemed unable to say anything more. 
 
 " Ya-as m!" said Harriet again, swinging her 
 arms, and in high glee. "Dat s w at he said, when 
 I tole im I wan t a-gwine to quit yer. It s de 
 safes place now, missus! Dat ole Massa Lock d 
 S dan ain t a-gwine to cotch me! Dat gentlem 
 wid de style," she pointed to her own hair signifi- 
 
32 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 cantly, "he s spen in his time now walkin roun 
 de house, an ef Massa S dan pears to want to call 
 agin on Miss Hawyet Wilson, he s gwine to come 
 roun froo de back gate an take me clean off in a 
 spectable way. I m gwine to git my bunnit an 
 shawl an hab em handy. So, Miss Peggy, ef yo 
 yers de do bell ring, keep em waitin twell I gets 
 into de tunn l, yo yer dat? But I ain t afeerd 
 of his comin ! He s had nough o dis place an 
 he ain t a-gwine to call agin. Law suz! Don t you 
 be afeerd for me, missus ! / ain t a-gwine Souf for 
 my weddin trip! " 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 
 
 THE Desborough family were conventional. 
 They might be called conventionally correct in all 
 their ways. They had plenty of money and lived 
 in Fourteenth Street, near Union Square, where 
 they felt their surroundings to be aristocratic. All 
 the furnishings and appointments of the house, its 
 service, and customs, were elegant and proper. 
 The coachman and footman wore quiet liveries, the 
 coat of arms on the carriages and harness were in 
 conspicuous. It was carefully painted or attached 
 wherever coats of arms ought to be, but never ob 
 trusive. The family pedigree was most important ; 
 Mrs. Desborough especially enjoyed it, and guarded 
 it, but she made an effort not to obtrude it. Some 
 times a quiet assertion of it was necessary, but it 
 must be made in good taste. Everything in the 
 Desborough family must be done in good taste. 
 There was never an occasion known when Mrs. 
 Desborough and her daughter Grace, who was nine 
 teen, and Eloise, who was only eleven, were not 
 dressed in the best of taste, and in what was exactly 
 suitable. It worried Mrs. Desborough because 
 Grace showed so little interest in her apparel, but 
 she was entirely tractable and wore contentedly 
 
34 EACH EL STAN WOOD. 
 
 whatever her mother provided, and that was a com 
 fort. Mrs. Desborough was a nervous, thin, wiry 
 little lady of forty-three, with a pale face, brown 
 eyes, and a chin which punctuated her feelings in 
 an upward hitch when she was excited. Her hair 
 was light brown and always handsomely dressed in 
 a French twist, which gave her an air of distinc 
 tion. She had a restless way of using her hands, 
 and wore few rings, but the jewels in them were 
 superb. Her husband was forty-eight, rather tall, 
 with a large frame, which could be stately to a de 
 gree, but when off guard bent itself to a kindly 
 level with genial, good-natured people. He had 
 thin, dark hair, was bald on the crown, and wore 
 whiskers, but no mustache, a fortunate custom, 
 because his mouth was decidedly his best feature. 
 His son Horace was a handsome likeness of him, a 
 little overtopping him in height, erect, with a touch 
 of haughtiness in his bearing. His hair was light, 
 curling in loose rings about his broad forehead, his 
 eyes dark, like his mother s. Sitting at the end of 
 the family pew in a not too fashionable Episcopal 
 church, Mr. Desborough looked satisfied, perhaps 
 with his family rather than with other things, but 
 only a keen observer would take note of the fact in 
 his contented glances along the line, from his son 
 next to him, to his wife at the further end. To 
 Mrs. Desborough the pew was an intense satisfac 
 tion. Her seat in it was to her a sort of society 
 throne ; when she entered the pew and settled her 
 self, after her short, silent prayer, she had an unde- 
 finable sensation of settling into her secure and most 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 35 
 
 satisfactory position in society. When the pew 
 was full, with Horace and his father in their seats, 
 Mrs. Desborough s face was more near to looking 
 placid than at any other time, but this supreme 
 hour came only occasionally, for the gentlemen of 
 the family attended church irregularly, and Eloise 
 was an adept at getting up excuses for staying at 
 home. Grace was the most regular of any of the 
 family in her attendance at church. She loved the 
 pew because she was devout and gave much thought 
 and care to her soul, perhaps because it was so white 
 and spotless that it could have done better than most 
 souls if left alone. 
 
 Nervous headaches often interfered with Mrs. 
 Desborough s attendance at church. She had suf 
 fered recently from an unusual number of them, 
 owing to a long-continued effort on her part to solve 
 a difficult social problem. The problem was how to 
 protect her family from too great an intimacy with 
 the Stanwoods. Rachel Stanwood and Grace Des- 
 borough had met at a French class to which they 
 both belonged, and their acquaintance was ripening 
 into friendship at full speed. Also Eloise Des- 
 borough and Elizabeth Stanwood attended the same 
 school, and had more to do with each other than 
 Mrs. Desborough wished. She was less troubled 
 about the latter intimacy, because of what she called 
 the strength of Eloise s character. Perhaps the 
 Stanwoods and some others might have associated 
 the strength with certain qualities of worldliness 
 which were prominent in the disposition of the 
 youthful Eloise, but her mother regarded it as a 
 
36 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 shield to protect its possessor from contamination. 
 Traced to the foundation, the contamination feared 
 by Mrs. Desborough, and also by her husband and 
 son, was that arising from abolitionism. That, to 
 their minds, meant fanaticism, rebellion, anarchy, 
 and what placed its followers under the ban of so 
 ciety. In the first days of the children s acquain 
 tance, Eloise reported a conversation at recess be 
 tween the members of her class as to the forms of 
 religious worship represented among them. "What 
 are you?" had gone the rounds, as a matter of 
 course, and had been answered in the usual way by 
 the children: "I m Episcopal;" "I m Presbyter 
 ian;" "I m High Church;" "I m Low Church," 
 etc., until it reached Elizabeth, and she had an 
 swered, "I m an Abolitionist." "And then, 
 mamma, none of the girls would speak to her, and 
 she had to eat her lunch all alone," Eloise said. 
 
 "Grace! " Mrs. Desborough had afterwards said, 
 in a tone of consternation, "Eloise says those Stan- 
 woods are abolitionists! and Grace had disap 
 pointed her mother by saying, "I know they are, 
 mamma, and they are lovely people. You ought to 
 know Rachel! " 
 
 But there was just the rub, Mrs. Desborough 
 did not want to know Rachel, or to have Grace 
 know her, or to have Eloise know Elizabeth. "We 
 don t icant to know such people," she said. 
 
 It was not that the Desboroughs were supporters 
 of slavery ; they looked upon the institution as an 
 evil, and wished that it did not exist, but to resist 
 it was to place themselves in antagonism to a peace- 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 37 
 
 ful state of things; to join a class of people who 
 were obnoxious, and to become obnoxious them 
 selves to the society of which they were a part. 
 However dreadful the system of slavery might be, 
 it was not their the Desboroughs business to 
 try to uproot it. There was every reason against 
 their cultivation of intimacies or placing themselves 
 in surroundings which might in any way identify 
 them with the movement to abolish it. Mr. Des- 
 borough was the senior partner of the distinguished 
 firm of lawyers, Desborough and Bristol, and it 
 would be derogatory to his reputation in business 
 circles to be connected, excepting in a distant way, 
 with so unpopular a cause as that of abolitionism. 
 Horace Desborough had been a member of the bar 
 for only a year, and Messrs. Graythorn and Ben- 
 derly, the prominent firm to which he had been ad 
 mitted, were openly and bitterly pro-slavery in their 
 sentiments. 
 
 On every account, therefore, Mr. and Mrs. Des 
 borough regretted the acquaintance of their daugh 
 ters with the Stanwoods, and wished to clog the 
 wheels which were driving them toward a closer re 
 lation. But there was a serious difficulty in their 
 way, and that was in the popularity of Rachel 
 Stan wood. The French class which she had been 
 invited to join (imprudently invited, Mrs. Desbor 
 ough and most of the mothers thought), was a most 
 select one, the members of it, with the exception of 
 Miss Stanwood, belonging to families of wealth and 
 high position. And yet, of all the class, Rachel 
 Stanwood, its one black sheep, was the most popu- 
 
38 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 lar and influential member ! The others began by 
 placing her upon a formal footing, but, when she 
 was discovered to be more proficient than they were, 
 when it proved to be she who waked up an interest 
 in the conversations and created all the enthusiasm 
 there was, what could the class do? After the les 
 son was over, it became entertaining to converse in 
 English with Miss Stanwood. She always had an 
 idea to give where one was wanted, whether it was 
 a suggestion of something new to make for a fair, 
 an inspiring book to read, the deeper beauty of an 
 old piece of music to pit against the weakness of 
 something modern, or the like. Grace Desbor- 
 ough s passionless blue eyes deepened, and peach- 
 bloom came into her cheeks as she listened to Ra 
 chel, and by and by, as the acquaintance grew, as 
 calls began to be interchanged, and she saw Rachel 
 in her own home, she caught glimpses of a life that 
 meant purpose. In Grace s bosom there kindled a 
 little fire which had never been lighted before, and 
 by the time her mother perceived and wanted to 
 quench it, it was too late. 
 
 It was the latter part of October, and, after much 
 debate, the family had, as a concession to Grace, 
 crossed their small social channel and accepted an 
 invitation to a party at the Stan woods . Mr. Des- 
 borough had yielded because the thing most difficult 
 for him to do was to resist his daughter Grace. 
 She was so gentle and yielding, so rarely expressed 
 a wish which pertained to her own individual plea 
 sure, was invariably so ready to lose her own desires 
 in those of others, that her father longed to gratify 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 39 
 
 her. When she made her feeble point of asking 
 him and her mother to accept this invitation, there 
 had been in her face a plea for her friend which 
 touched her father s heart in its most vulnerable 
 place, and he had promised to go with her to the 
 Stan woods . He conferred with his wife and Hor 
 ace, announced that Grace did not often make a re 
 quest, and that it was only fair to gratify her. He 
 said they could avoid conversation upon dangerous 
 topics, and could maintain formal relations with the 
 Stanwoods as easily if they went as if they stayed 
 away. His wife yielded because she learned through 
 Horace that the Riverstons were going. They were 
 one of the oldest and most aristocratic of New York 
 families, and had a pew at Grace Church. Horace 
 was strongest in his opposition, but when he found 
 that his parents had decided to go, he announced his 
 intention to accompany them. 
 
 "Since you persist, mamma, in sealing the pres 
 ent connection and beginning one on your own ac 
 count^ I prefer to go and look after Grace," he 
 said. 
 
 On the appointed evening, Grace, the first to be 
 ready, was in the parlor tying together a bunch of 
 superb roses. She was an attractive little person, 
 with a trim figure, an oval face, dark eyes and 
 lashes, and most beautiful golden hair. She wore 
 a dress of white crepe, made with simple folds 
 crossed over her bosom and no garnishings save a 
 little rare lace at the neck and wrists. There was 
 an unusual glow upon her face, and an anxious look 
 swept over it as she heard her brother s step coming 
 
40 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 down stairs. Grace was afraid of her brother s 
 criticism. She did not escape it. 
 
 "Your flowers are too many to wear, Grace," he 
 said, bending down to smell them. "Leave some 
 at home, do." 
 
 "I m not going to wear any at all; they are for 
 Rachel," she said, smiling. Horace looked annoyed 
 and said, "Are you studying Quaker simplicity, 
 then? Your dress looks more like a nun s than one 
 for a party. But it s all right, considering where 
 you are taking us. Grace," he said, with a new 
 tone of seriousness, "be careful. It is a great re 
 sponsibility for you to draw the family into this 
 acquaintance. Why do you take Miss Stanwood 
 flowers? It will be very easy for you to lead her 
 on to expect more attention from you than you will 
 care to give her by and by. Keep her where she 
 is, and don t spoil her by" 
 
 "Oh, Horace!" cried Grace. "Wait until you 
 see her before you talk so. Spoil her! And 
 lead her! Twenty thousand me s couldn t spoil 
 her, and if there s any leading to do, why she 11 be 
 the one, not I, to do it. But no matter ! I m not 
 going to say another word about her ; all I want is 
 to have you judge for yourself. And there s one 
 comfort" putting her flowers down to reach her 
 hands up to her brother s shoulders, and, with a 
 sudden gayety which was irresistibly pretty, laugh 
 ing up into his face. 
 
 "What is it, little girl? " Horace asked, smiling. 
 
 "Why even she can t spoil you, dear, and you 11 
 keep the family straight in spite of poor little me," 
 she said, and really believed it. 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 41 
 
 " 4 Little me must help, all the same," said Hor 
 ace, kissing her. "And she must get into her wraps, 
 for the carriage has been waiting some time, and 
 here comes mamma." 
 
 Half an hour later they were in the Stan woods 
 parlor. A small company of some thirty or forty 
 people were assembled, and in the prevailing simpli 
 city, most of the ladies having on gowns of cashmere 
 or silks of quiet colors, with a goodly number in reg 
 ular Quaker kerchief and cap, Mrs. Desborough s 
 rich lavender silk and lace were conspicuous. 
 
 Besides the silk and lace Mrs. Desborough had on 
 her social armor, but the welcome of her host and 
 hostess set the armor at defiance and made it use 
 less. 
 
 "Grace, I am glad to see thee," Mrs. Stanwood 
 said, her pleasure evident in every line of her face. 
 " And gladder still that thee has brought with thee 
 thy mother and father and brother. " She gave 
 her hand to each in the pauses. "They have broken 
 the ice and we shall expect them now to claim the 
 freedom of friends and come often." Mr. Stanwood 
 followed up his wife s welcome, saying, "That is 
 sound doctrine, friends, and you cannot claim more 
 than we will give ; we owe more, on both sides, to a 
 friendship which begins with a bond between our 
 children." 
 
 It took Mrs. Desborough time to recover from 
 speeches like these. And the awkwardness of it! 
 Mr. Stanwood had kept Mrs. Desborough s hand in 
 his right one, had given his left to her husband, and 
 held on to both of them while he looked from one to 
 
42 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 the other as if they were making a compact. And 
 to be received as secondary to their daughter, 
 "brought" by her; and "bonds" and "claims" 
 thrown at them what a piece of awkwardness it 
 all was ! The Desboroughs were not in the attitude 
 of making claims of any description whatever upon 
 the Stan woods. They had come there to give, not 
 to receive. Yes, it was necessary for Mrs. Des- 
 borough to recover a little and she looked at her 
 husband for an interchange of expression. He was 
 being introduced to a little lady in a cap of rich lace, 
 whose rather large, plain features upturned to him 
 were full of kindliness. " Cinderella s godmother ! " 
 Mrs. Desborough thought, as she sat down upon a 
 sofa by the folding-door and bent her head to a lady 
 already seated upon it, to whom she had been pre 
 sented, but whose name she had lost. 
 
 "My brother, Miss Stanwood," Grace was say 
 ing on the other side of the room. Horace gave up 
 the bow he had saved for Rachel, and bowed before 
 her as if she were a princess. Grace might wear 
 her costliest gown and handsomest jewels, but she 
 could not look like that. Rachel, standing there, 
 had a dignity and graciousness which seemed a nat 
 ural birthright. It made no difference what she 
 wore; Horace forgot to notice. Rachel, after pre 
 senting him to the little group of which she was the 
 centre, said, continuing a conversation which had 
 evidently been interrupted, "It is an awful question, 
 but, if it had to be answered, I would "- 
 
 "Wait a minute, before thee says what thee would 
 say," said a young man whom Rachel had called Mr. 
 
FRIENDS AND FfilENDS. 43 
 
 Hedges. "It is only fair that Mr. Desborough 
 should understand what we are talking about." 
 
 " What is the question? To be, or not to be? " 
 asked Horace. 
 
 "Very nearly that to the person most interested," 
 said Mr. Hedges. "It is this: if you had a runa 
 way slave concealed in your house, and if the officer 
 in pursuit of him should come with a warrant to 
 search the premises and should say to you, I will 
 take your word for it, if you will answer this ques 
 tion: Is the fugitive under your roof? What 
 would you say? " 
 
 "You are assuming that the answerer wishes to 
 protect the slave, but not his master?" asked Hor 
 ace. 
 
 "Of course! Of course! " cried everybody in the 
 group at once. 
 
 "Protect the master from what?" asked Rachel, 
 a little coldly. 
 
 "Injustice, perhaps?" asked Horace. 
 
 "Injustice!" whispered two Quaker girls in 
 white, looking at each other in dismay. 
 
 "I would protect him from more than injustice, 
 - 1 would save him from committing the crime of 
 dooming a person to slavery," said Mr. Hedges, 
 quietly, looking at Horace as if he pitied him. 
 There was a murmur of sympathy from the group, 
 excepting from Rachel, whose eyes looked search- 
 ingly at Horace. 
 
 "How about the crime of withholding a man s 
 property from him?" asked Horace. 
 
 "Thee calls it that? " asked Susy Morton, one of 
 
44 EACH EL STAN WOOD. 
 
 the girls in white. She opened her round eyes at 
 him, and her lips remained parted in horror. " Does 
 thee believe in slavery, then? " asked another of the 
 young girls. 
 
 He flushed as he saw the impression he had pro 
 duced, and made an effort to explain. "Oh, no, 
 not at all," he said. "I look upon it as an evil, 
 a great evil, and should be glad if it did not exist. 
 I should be sorry to return a slave to the South, 
 but" they were all intent upon what he was go 
 ing to say "if one had taken refuge with me, and 
 his owner came to inquire for him, I might feel 
 it my duty to give him up. Every person is en 
 titled to what belongs to him, and I consider that 
 a slave -owner has the same right to reclaim a slave 
 who has escaped from him that any of you would 
 have to reclaim a horse, or any property which 
 might be stolen from you." 
 
 There was an outburst of protest and opinion. 
 Horace wanted Miss Stanwood to speak. He had 
 addressed himself principally to her and she had 
 looked at him with that steady gaze, as if she were 
 listening to somebody who belonged to another 
 world than hers, who had nothing in common with 
 her. He longed to change the expression of her 
 eyes, to put himself at least inside the threshold of 
 her world. She had not moved, but the color in 
 her cheeks had deepened and with Grace s roses, 
 which she held against her dress, Horace noticed 
 now its delicate pearl-gray tint, he thought he 
 had never seen any one half so beautiful. 
 
 But the murmurs of dissent had not subsided 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 45 
 
 when Mrs. Stanwoocl came with an interruption 
 which scattered the group. 
 
 "Mr. Desborough!" she exclaimed, with sudden 
 energy, "thee is the very person whom we want. 
 Will thee come this way with me? Follow us, Ra- 
 chel; I want thee, too." 
 
 Horace would have offered Mrs. Stanwood his 
 arm, but she kept her plump little hand upon his 
 wrist and drew him away to a rosy-faced, stout lady 
 in Quaker dress, who had been having brisk conver 
 sations on important business with different people 
 in the room. She was writing some memoranda in 
 a notebook, and was so intent that Mrs. Stanwood 
 and Horace waited until she was through. Then 
 she looked into their faces with an expression which 
 seemed to call them up as next in order on a list. 
 Horace felt a little like the slave whose case he had 
 just been considering, for Mrs. Stanwood had taken 
 possession of him and seemed to deliver him to the 
 Quaker lady, as she said, "Here is exactly the right 
 person for thy committee on decorations, Hannah. 
 He is Grace Desborough s brother Horace. When 
 thee has told him what thee has for him to do, in 
 troduce him to the others on the committee." She 
 was off before Horace could speak, to meet Ra 
 chel, who had followed part way across the room. 
 Horace wished that he could return to her, but he 
 felt himself in the clutches of the committee lady. 
 
 Rachel waited for her mother to dispose of Mr. 
 Desborough, and then they went together to the back 
 end of the hall. 
 
 "I want thee to talk with Mrs. Riverston on busi- 
 
46 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ness," Mrs. Stanwood said, pushing to a door which 
 led into the back parlor. 
 
 "Oh, mother! " Kachel exclaimed softly. "I m 
 in mortal terror of both Mrs. and Miss Riverston! " 
 
 " Nonsense! How ridiculous!" said her mother 
 laughing. "Afraid of Mrs. Eiverston, and yet 
 able to face that slaveholder the other day ! Thee 
 was not afraid of him! " 
 
 "Of course not!" exclaimed Rachel with deci 
 sion. "He was wrong, he wanted to commit a 
 crime, and we were bound to save Harriet. I had 
 no chance to think of myself then, but, if I had, it 
 would have been to feel my own superiority. In 
 the Riverston presence I m less than nobody. 
 They carry too much sail, as Will Hedges says. 
 They bear down upon me with their grandeur, and I 
 go under." 
 
 Mrs. Stanwood laughed gently up in her daugh 
 ter s face and said, with good-natured derision: 
 
 "Thee nobody! I don t think thee could really 
 feel thyself nobody in the presence of a Riverston, 
 Rachel. They want our help just now in a little 
 matter of charity, and Mrs. Riverston has only just 
 said to me that my daughter, with her great force 
 of character, would be just the person to attend to 
 it. Indeed, she gave me the impression that she 
 was rather afraid of thee." 
 
 "Oh, so she is, in a way," said Rachel. "She 
 looked daggers at me awhile ago, when her son, 
 Burton, was talking to me. She and her daughter 
 both despise me, mammy dear, and there is no get 
 ting around the fact ; but what does she want me to 
 
FEIENDS AND FRIENDS. 47 
 
 do? I m ready for her, and I 11 smother my feel 
 ings, don t be worried." And Rachel straight 
 ened her mother s little white silk shawl, which 
 might have been a hair s breadth out of the way, 
 and smiled at her. 
 
 "They are in trouble about a young Scotch girl 
 whom they have brought here with them. She has 
 a wonderful voice, they say, and some fashionable 
 ladies have been dressing her up and getting her to 
 sing at their parties. The Riverstons expected to 
 make a great singer out of her, but they have come 
 to a stopping-place, and don t know what to do with 
 her. I told Mrs. Riverston that I did not under 
 stand anything about music, but would consult my 
 daughter. The poor girl has no friends, and " 
 
 "And the Riverstons are tired of her and would 
 like to pass her over to us, I see, mother," said 
 Rachel, a little haughtily. "Well! " she sighed as 
 she looked down at her mother s perplexed face. 
 They were quite alone in the corner, and Rachel, 
 with a pretty caress, put her arms about her mother 
 and said, 
 
 "When everybody else gives a poor thing up, 
 then it s little mammy s turn. If the Scotch girl 
 hasn t any friends in the world, then she is on the 
 eve of having the best one the world can produce 
 for her! Shall we have her for a cook? or a cham 
 bermaid? Or shall we have to let her take in 
 sewing to enable us to keep her? But there! It s 
 all right, mother dear." Straightening her shawl 
 again and kissing her forehead, "Thee go to the 
 company and I 11 find Mrs. Riverston." She found 
 
48 RACHEL STAN WOO I). 
 
 the lady near the front parlor windows, in all her 
 splendor, a mountain of black lace. She was a tall, 
 large, showy woman, with a weak face. Her hair, 
 in gray puffs over her temples, made her head look 
 a little too large. She stood very erect, with her 
 head thrown back and to one side. Rachel had 
 more listening to do than talking. It was as she 
 had supposed ; the lady was anxious to pass over to 
 Mrs. Stan wood a case which was evidently trouble 
 some. In fact she was rather desirous of dropping 
 all responsibility for the person in question, for when 
 Rachel gave it as her opinion that a fine voice ought 
 to be cultivated, and suggested consulting her music 
 teacher, Herr Kreutsohn, Mrs. Riverston caught 
 her up, saying, "That is exactly what I would ad 
 vise, Miss Stanwood. Your judgment is excellent, 
 and I hope that your protegee will profit by it." 
 Rachel did not reply, she only admired Mrs. River- 
 ston s skill in presenting her with a protegee whom 
 she had not seen. Meanwhile the Scotch girl, from 
 the window recess close by, was scowling at Mrs. 
 Riverston s back, with an expression which might 
 justify that lady s desire to pass her along to some 
 body else. 
 
 " What is that Quaker lady doing with Horace ? 
 Why doesn t he stay with Grace, and where is 
 she?" Mrs. Desborough was wondering, from her 
 sofa. But the lady beside her was telling her some 
 thing about a place called Brook Farm, and she 
 wanted to hear. 
 
 Horace was interested in that conversation about 
 the slave, and did not like being taken away from it. 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 49 
 
 He wanted to know what Rachel would have an 
 swered to that question. However, she, too, had 
 been driven away, and the thought that any talk 
 with her just now was impossible made it easier for 
 him to transfer his attention to the "committee 
 lady," whose surname had not been given to him. 
 She was looking into his face, waiting for him to 
 speak. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, madam," he said, chagrined 
 at being caught off guard. "I did not hear; I am 
 afraid I was preoccupied; did you ask me some 
 thing?" 
 
 "Yes, I asked if thee was a good carpenter," she 
 said. 
 
 Horace wondered if she was in her right mind. 
 "I I have not been trained in the business," he 
 said, flushing. 
 
 "But thee can saw a board and hammer nails? 
 Of course. Then I 11 put thee down as chairman 
 of" she was saying placidly, but Horace ex 
 claimed, seeing her pencil ready to make an entry 
 in the little book, "Oh, wait, I beg, madam! 
 Chairman of what, pray? And how can I consent 
 without understanding?" 
 
 "Oh, easily," said the lady, writing down his 
 name. "Thee can consent first, and I 11 get Ra 
 chel Stan wood to explain afterward. There she is, 
 talking with Mrs. River ston. And there are the 
 Hutchinsons just beyond. I want them to sing for 
 the cause, so come and I will invite them to do it, 
 while thee tells Rachel that thee is chairman of 
 her committee, and asks her all the questions thee 
 
50 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 wants to." She took his arm and led him toward 
 the group, which they reached just as she was an 
 swering his question, again repeated, "Chairman of 
 what?" 
 
 "The committee on decoration for the Anti- 
 Slavery Fair," she said, and touched Rachel s arm 
 to say to her, "When thee is through with what 
 thee is saying to Mrs. Riverston, explain to Grace 
 Desborough s brother his duties on the decoration 
 committee, he s chairman of it." And the busy 
 little woman whisked off as if her stint with Horace 
 was accomplished and she had handed him over to 
 Rachel for the finishing touches. 
 
 Mr. Stanwood coming to say something to Mrs. 
 Riverston, Rachel turned to Horace. He had 
 meant to decline positively, as a matter of course, 
 to serve on any committee, anywhere. But Rachel 
 was looking up at him with surprise and pleasure on 
 her face, saying, "Oh, thank you so much! It is 
 so hard to get gentlemen ! " 
 
 Here she was, placing him where, a little while 
 ago, he had wanted to be, within the boundary of 
 her interests. He would not refuse yet to remain 
 there. He longed to hear her talk and would not 
 deny himself the opportunity, but would listen to all 
 she had to say about the work of that committee, 
 before he made known his inability to share in it. 
 
 "Hard to get gentlemen?" he asked, adding, 
 "There is the lady who appointed me, talking to 
 three now ; may be she is putting them on the com 
 mittee, too." 
 
 "Oh no, never! " said Rachel laughing. "Those 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 51 
 
 are the Hutchiiisons; they will sing for us, but we 
 cannot ask them to work ! It is very kind of you, 
 Mr. Desborough, to be so self -sacrificing. And if 
 Grace takes part, too, that will be delightful! " 
 
 u ls Grace on a committee, Miss Stan wood?" 
 asked Horace, in alarm. 
 
 "Not that I know," said Rachel, "but we can 
 have her upon ours, if she would like it." 
 
 "Not for the world!" said Horace impulsively. 
 "I d rather that is, my sister is unaccustomed to 
 serving on committees, and I think, at home, they 
 would not approve of her doing so." He again post 
 poned a protest on his own behalf, rather enjoying 
 Rachel s appropriation of him in calling the com 
 mittee theirs. 
 
 "Perhaps you, too, would disapprove," said Ra 
 chel, becoming grave. "You were saying things 
 awhile ago about the rights of slaveholders to come 
 North and hunt runaway slaves. I was surprised, 
 on top of that, to hear Aunt Hannah say you were 
 going to work with us. I thought perhaps I had 
 misunderstood. Aren t you an abolitionist? " 
 
 "Not exactly," said Horace, wishing that she, 
 too, would postpone troublesome thoughts a little. 
 
 "Are you ^ro-slavery, all but Grace?" she 
 asked quickly. 
 
 "Oh, no, you don t understand, Miss Stan- 
 wood!" Horace exclaimed. Her face looked for 
 bidding again, and he wanted to avoid differences 
 between them. He was not going to ciiltivate 
 Grace s friend, but something made him, at least, 
 not wish to stand ill with her ; he wished to make a 
 
52 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 good impression. So he hastened to say, "We do 
 not call ourselves members of any party which is 
 actively engaged in the suppression of slavery. I 
 think my sister Grace would certainly not go so far 
 as to desire to be associated with such a party. 
 But," he tried to make this statement impressive, 
 " we should all be devoutly glad if the institution of 
 slavery did not exist. As it does exist, and to 
 oppose it would " 
 
 "Well? "asked Rachel, as he hesitated, "What 
 would it do to you to oppose what you think 
 wrong?" 
 
 She was not in the least bold, she was simply 
 waiting to hear what he was going to say. He 
 looked at her, thought how clear and honest her eyes 
 were, and remembering what a pretty light had 
 come into them when she thanked him for joining 
 her committee, he wanted to make it come again. 
 But he felt himself on the wrong track. 
 
 "Nothing," he said, "but I don t believe in 
 things which stir up the community." 
 
 "You might word it as they do sometimes among 
 the Quakers," Eachel said dryly. " Things which 
 are calculated to create opposition and sow discord 
 among friends. Then you had better withdraw 
 from our fair work as quickly as possible, Mr. 
 Desborough, for its entire object is to stir up the 
 community." 
 
 "Tell me more about the work," he said. "You 
 cannot expect me to desert a committee when all I 
 have learned about it is the fact that it is difficult 
 to obtain the help you need. Mrs. Miss the 
 
FRIENDS AND FEIENDS. 53 
 
 lady who gave me my office, said you would instruct 
 me; when will you give me my first lesson, Miss 
 Stan wood?" 
 
 44 On Tuesday evening at eight o clock, when the 
 committee meets here," said Rachel, hastily throw 
 ing the opportunity at him, as she saw a general stir 
 among the guests and knew they could not talk any 
 longer. " But don t come, if you think better of it, 
 Mr. Desborough," she said sarcastically, as she was 
 moving away. "We have plenty of women to do 
 the work, and can get along perfectly well." 
 
 "Without me," Horace added to himself, as she 
 bowed and left him. 
 
 "Look at my Lord Duke! " whispered Susy Mor 
 ton to Martha Quimby. "He looks glum. I don t 
 believe he got along with Ray very well." 
 
 "I guess it s mutual; she looked like a thunder 
 cloud," said Martha. 
 
 Three poetic - looking young gentlemen placed 
 themselves in a row, close by Horace, who immedi 
 ately crossed over to a place behind his mother s 
 sofa. The people rustled into places, and "The 
 Hutchinsons are going to sing," was repeated from 
 one to another. 
 
 The three young men smiled at the company in a 
 genial way, as if they were confident of pleasing 
 them, and, looking at one another, began to sing. 
 Their first song announced them, - 
 
 " We re a band of brothers, 
 We re a band of brothers, 
 We re a band of brothers 
 From the Old Granite State." 
 
54 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 In more verses, the song went on to tell their 
 names and that they had "come from the mountains 
 of the Old Granite State" to join the anti-slavery 
 party and to help break the chains of bondage. 
 Their voices were clear and pleasing, and they sang 
 in harmony, pronouncing every word so that it was 
 understood without effort. There was a piano in 
 the room, but they used it to strike the key only, 
 and sang without accompaniment. When the song 
 was ended there were murmurs of gratification 
 throughout the two rooms. But little applause was 
 expressed in the clapping of hands. 
 
 "Have you been to the Castle Garden concerts?" 
 Mrs. Desborough asked her companion on the sofa 
 where she still sat. The lady who had been her 
 first companion there had gone to make one of a 
 changing group who continually surrounded Miss 
 Bremer. The gentleman now talking to Mrs. Des 
 borough had a very bald head and a face remark 
 able for its strength and benignity. 
 
 He had listened to the singing with particular 
 enjoyment. He did not hear Mrs. Desborough s re 
 mark, for his eyes had lighted upon Elizabeth and 
 Richard Stan wood, who were seated upon two little 
 benches, backed up against a lady with an exceed 
 ingly pleasant face. There was upon it a glow of 
 kindliness which seemed to take in every person in 
 the room, as she turned it from one to another di 
 rection. Her light brown hair, streaked with gray, 
 was brushed down on her temples in loops which 
 came low on her cheeks before they were turned 
 up behind her ears. She wore a cap which covered 
 
FRIENDS AND FEIENDS. 55 
 
 only the back of her head on top, but it had frilled 
 ear-tabs which came forward over her ears to meet 
 the soft loops of hair. The Hutchinsons, joined by 
 their sweet-faced sister, Abby, sang another short 
 song beginning with, - 
 
 " Ho ! the car Emancipation 
 Rides triumphant through the nation." 
 
 The children sat motionless through it, Betty in 
 a day-dream, without the least idea where she was, 
 Dick with burning red cheeks and little fists 
 clenched. 
 
 "There is the real fire of abolitionism just start 
 ing," said Mrs. Desborough s companion to her, 
 drawing her attention to Dick. "And no place could 
 be more fitting for the kindling of such fires than at 
 that lady s feet." 
 
 "Indeed?" asked Mrs. Desborough, looking at 
 the lady through her eyeglasses. "She looks too 
 amiable to kindle such fires ; may I ask who she is? " 
 
 "She is Lydia Maria Child," answered the gen 
 tleman. "Have you read her Letters from New 
 York ?" 
 
 "No, I have not. What Child ? That is a 
 New England name, is it not?" asked Mrs. Des 
 borough. 
 
 "She is the wife of David Lee Child, the gentle 
 man by the mantelpiece, who looks like Thorwald- 
 sen, one of the stanchest abolitionists in the 
 room," said the gentleman. 
 
 "Indeed?" asked Mrs. Desborough, trying to 
 look interested. " And who is the very handsome 
 gentleman speaking to Mrs. Child?" 
 
56 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Oh, he?" exclaimed the gentleman, his face 
 lighting up all over. " He is one who has done, and 
 is doing, a mighty work for the anti-slavery cause. 
 He has come to us from England to help, as only 
 he can help, to lift up the downtrodden Africans." 
 
 The gentleman went forward eagerly to meet Mr. 
 George Thompson, M. P., who advanced with both 
 hands held out to him. 
 
 "Horace," said Mrs. Desborough, looking up 
 over her shoulder to her son, who bent down to hear 
 her say in an undertone : 
 
 "Do find out who some of these people are. That 
 gentleman who has just left me tells me nothing but 
 that they are abolitionists. Who is he, to begin 
 with? And who is the magnificent-looking gentle 
 man just coming toward us with the little dark-eyed 
 Quaker lady ? I would like him to be introduced to 
 me, Horace ; he looks distinguished and I am sure 
 he is not an abolitionist." 
 
 Horace stepped back and joined his friend Burt 
 Riverston, who was always sure to know who every 
 body was. 
 
 Tea, coffee, and chocolate were being passed by 
 the young men and girls in the company. 
 
 "Mamma," whispered Horace, handing her a cup 
 of chocolate, "your friend with the bald head is 
 William Lloyd Garrison; the dark-eyed little 
 Quaker lady is Mrs. Lucretia Mott, and the distin 
 guished-looking gentleman whom you wish pre 
 sented to you, and who you think is not an aboli 
 tionist, is Wendell Phillips! " 
 
 "Good heavens!" whispered Mrs. Desborough, 
 
FRIENDS AND FEIENDS. 57 
 
 as she rose with her chocolate. "We are in a hot 
 bed of them. Let us go, Horace. Where are your 
 father and Grace? " 
 
 But Horace was not in a hurry to go. He had 
 had a spirited conversation with two or three of 
 the young Quaker girls, and he wanted a few more 
 words with Rachel. 
 
 "Whatever the people are, mamma, they are 
 wide-awake and interesting," he said. "Even the 
 children seem that." 
 
 "The children ought to be in bed," said Mrs. 
 Desborough. 
 
 "Generally they are at this hour," said Mrs. 
 Mott, who overheard, and came to sit down upon 
 the seat Mr. Garrison had left, just as Elizabeth 
 steered her way, with a plate of cakes, around Mrs. 
 Desborough s skirts. As that lady moved to see 
 what the child was about, her dress swept a few of 
 the cakes upon the floor. 
 
 "Never mind, dear!" said Mrs. Mott, kindly, 
 holding out her hand. "Let me have the plate 
 while thee picks up what fell, before anybody steps 
 on it. That s it! No, dear, we won t put it back 
 with the rest, put it on my plate. Now hand some 
 to this friend." Then to Mrs. Desborough: "Will 
 thee sit down ? And will thee be so good as to tell 
 me thy name? Mine is Mott, Lucretia Mott." 
 
 Mrs. Desborough sat down again, and in the sun 
 shine of Mrs. Mott recovered her amiability, which 
 had tottered considerably when the cake fell. 
 
 Richard, following in his sister s wake, ducked 
 under Mr. Garrison s elbow with a silver basket full 
 
58 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 of home-made sponge cake, which he offered to the 
 two ladies. Mrs. Mott remarked upon its tempting 
 quality. Richard announced with pride, "Sister 
 Rachel made it." 
 
 The room hushed again for another song by the 
 Hutchinsons. It was like the others, about the 
 wrong of slavery and the inevitable day which was 
 to dawn at last upon universal liberty. 
 
 In the back parlor, farthest away from the singers, 
 Grace Desborough stood apart and listened. Before 
 the singing Susy Morton had pointed out to her, at 
 work in the china closet, a fine-looking woman, as 
 light as any brunette and with straight hair gath 
 ered prettily into a knot at the back of her head. 
 Grace was horrified by the information that the 
 woman was a fugitive slave, who had escaped witli 
 her little girl at the same time with Harriet Wilson 
 and from the same master. Susy also told Grace, 
 with much spirit, the story of Harriet s escape on 
 the day when her master had come to search the 
 Stanwoods house for her, and the part the children, 
 Elizabeth and Richard, had played in it. 
 
 The face of the young slave -mother wore an ex 
 pression of peculiar sadness ; it looked as if it had 
 lost the power to smile. The song awakened in it 
 no interest, although its owner listened attentively. 
 But to Grace, watching that face, which looked to 
 her hopeless in its sorrow, the song was stirring. 
 Its joyous notes and words of expectation became to 
 her a beseeching cry for liberty. Her eyes filled 
 with tears. She felt for her handkerchief, and turn 
 ing aside, that her emotion might not be observed, 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 59 
 
 she found herself face to face with the young man 
 whom Rachel had introduced to her as Mr. William 
 Hedges. 
 
 "Have you seen these pictures, Miss Desbor- 
 ough? " he asked quickly, drawing her attention to 
 two fine oil paintings on the wall. "They are fine 
 copies of two of Moreland s, and you cannot often 
 have a chance to see the like. They are called 
 Winter and Summer. The Winter appeals to 
 me the most, with the sheep in the fold, the glimpses 
 of winter landscape, and the old farmer looking so 
 content." 
 
 "Yes," said Grace, relieved to think that possibly 
 he had not noticed her tears, and wiping them away 
 surreptitiously. She allowed him to talk on about 
 the pictures, and stood where she could use him as 
 a shield, for she was in a sensitive state of mind, and 
 it was hard to control herself. She had come to the 
 party light-hearted and full of hope that her parents 
 and brother were going to see the Stanwoods as she 
 saw them. But her father was giving all his atten 
 tion to the Riverstons, her mother had remained in 
 her seat and the expression of her face meant criti 
 cism. Horace had had a fine chance to talk with 
 Rachel, but he looked annoyed, not pleased, when 
 she left him. 
 
 Grace had a hurt feeling that, instead of perceiv 
 ing any of the things which made her reverence these 
 people, her father was not noticing them, and her 
 mother and Horace were seeing only what was gro 
 tesque. And there was plenty of that to see. Scat 
 tered through the rooms were people who could not 
 
60 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 appear in any but a ridiculous light to a person like 
 Mrs. Desborough; reformers, who had no talent or 
 money to use in the adornments of dress, and yet 
 who could not escape from a natural love of it. On 
 some of the ladies there were odds and ends of finery, 
 put together with conspicuous lack of taste ; and some 
 of the gentlemen exhibited strange fancies in shirt- 
 collars, cravats, waistcoats, and the cut of their gar 
 ments. With some the hair was a study, and there 
 were a few who looked as if they had gotten into the 
 wrong garments altogether. The confident belief 
 that the result was satisfactory, or the very uncon 
 sciousness of any other than a pleasing one, added 
 to the grotesque appearance of these people. So 
 when William Hedges came upon Grace, in her 
 corner, and began talking about the Moreland pic 
 tures, she was eager to seek out and dwell upon every 
 thing which was beautiful or admirable in the home 
 of the friends for whom she was painfully solicitous. 
 
 William Hedges had more penetration than she 
 gave him credit for. He had seen her tears very 
 unmistakably, and because it was his instinct to 
 make everybody to whom he came near comfortable, 
 he had shielded her from his own observation. 
 
 "There are so many pretty things in this house," 
 said Grace, presently, looking at the " Winter" pic 
 ture, but not thinking of it. "It seems as if the 
 people " 
 
 "Seems?" asked Will, after waiting an instant. 
 "I wish you would not stop there. You were going 
 to say something good about the people and I want 
 to hear it. Please go on, I want the chance to 
 
F1UENDS AND FRIENDS. 61 
 
 say, Seems, madam? Nay, it is! 9 For 1 know, 
 you see." 
 
 She had stopped because her eyes wanted to fill 
 again, and she was determined not to let them. He 
 covered her emotion skillfully and kindly. "I was 
 only going to say that the Stanwoods make the best 
 out of everything. I think they " 
 
 "Well? " asked Will gently. u You need not be 
 afraid to tell me what you think of them, Miss Des- 
 borough ; I have known them all my life. Next to 
 the Mortons, who are the only relatives I know any 
 thing about, the Stanwoods are the nearest friends 
 I have. They have made me feel like doing my 
 part in the world as well as" he finished with a 
 comical laugh, "as nature will permit." 
 
 "That is just what I mean," exclaimed Grace, 
 catching at his serious thought, " and if I had the 
 chance to work with you all, I feel as if even the 
 little /could do would help somebody." 
 
 Will s face lighted up as he met her little burst 
 of confidence. He longed to be honest and say 
 something bold in his admiration of her. But he 
 would not, for the world, have made her conscious. 
 He asked what kind of work she would like to do, 
 and she pointed to the slave-woman who was thread 
 ing her way through the room, collecting cups and 
 saucers from the guests who had finished with them. 
 
 "I would like to help those people," she said. 
 "If I could do ever and ever so little for them, it 
 would make me glad. The little children even, in 
 this house, helped one of them the other day. They 
 do it from instinct." 
 
62 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Two red spots burned on her cheeks and she 
 looked at Will with deepened, earnest eyes, as if 
 she craved some opportunity which was denied her. 
 
 They rehearsed the story of Harriet s escape, and 
 Will told her more about the slaves. It was only 
 accidental, he said, that the woman whom Grace had 
 observed had not been in the house with her child 
 at the time of the slaveholder s search. "And 
 in that case," Will explained, "they could hardly 
 have been saved, for it is difficult to conceal chil 
 dren. Suppose, for instance, that Havilah Moore 
 and little Diana those are their names had 
 been with Harriet, on the other side of that fence, 
 when their master was talking to Betty and Dick. 
 Diana would probably have made some sound, and 
 the three would have been betrayed. Mr. Cumley 
 could never have got so many away." 
 
 It was a pitiful story, from beginning to end, and 
 it wrought upon Grace s feelings as nothing had 
 ever done before. 
 
 "Havilah! Havilah Moore! " she said. "It is a 
 strange name, but I like it." For a few moments 
 they were silent. Grace leaned back against the 
 side of the window and looked out into the dark 
 ness. She seemed depressed, and Will regretted 
 that he had told her anything about Havilah. He 
 watched her a moment and then said gayly, "But we 
 are getting dreary ourselves. The slaves were not 
 caught, and the anti-slavery society will probably get 
 them off somehow." 
 
 Grace turned her face to him with an impulsive 
 movement and exclaimed vehemently, "Oh, how I 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 63 
 
 envy you ! and Rachel Stanwood ! and Susy Morton, 
 and everybody who has the chance to do real things ! 
 You will do it ; you will .get the freedom of these 
 people, and make their lives worth something. But 
 I have n t the power of the smallest child among you, 
 and there is nothing I can do! " 
 
 "Oh yes, there is; yes, there is!" cried Will. 
 "Your wish is too honest for you not to do some 
 thing. Yon underrate your power. It is you 
 do not know how great. An honest wish like that 
 is power in itself; it is inspiration to others, and 
 will make opportunity." 
 
 She was an inspiration to him now, but he would 
 not, for the world, have let her know it. She 
 looked at him as he straightened himself and set his 
 lips. He was not handsome, but every line of his 
 face revealed character. It was indicative of re 
 serve power to an extraordinary degree. Grace had 
 been talking to him as if she had known him for 
 years, as she had never talked before to anybody, 
 and she was as unconscious as if he had a right 
 to her confidence. There was something about him 
 which called out the natural, fearless expression of 
 thought; nobody could look at him and not trust 
 him. His way of receiving Grace s innocent little 
 burst of confidence would make it impossible for her 
 to regret having given it to him. She looked up at 
 him with a glad little smile, and was beginning to 
 ask him what kind of work there was for her to do, 
 but the sound of her voice made them notice that 
 the room was growing quiet. Rachel Stanwood had 
 led the young Scotch girl to a place near them, and 
 
64 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 she was standing there waiting to sing. She had a 
 good figure, and was of medium height, with a mass 
 of wavy, red-brown hair which grew low on her fore 
 head and was gathered into a knot at the back of 
 her head. She had rather plain features, restless, 
 nervous, light-gray eyes, and a mouth which looked 
 scornful. The most noticeable thing about her was 
 an appearance of isolation, even in the midst of the 
 little crowd of people who had collected about her. 
 She looked as if she had no place there, but was 
 separated and apart from everybody. Rachel left 
 her to go to the piano and strike a chord. The girl 
 waited for her to return and then, clasping her 
 hands together, she began to sing "The Last Rose 
 of Summer." With the first notes silence dropped 
 like a spell upon the company. 
 
 Pure and clear the girl s voice rose, and besides 
 its richness there was that in its quality which 
 struck the heart of every listener. It was untaught ; 
 it was easy for any one, with even a small amount of 
 musical training, to perceive that the girl sang only 
 as the birds do, without method or studied skill, but 
 the people listened as if they were afraid to lose a 
 breath. The girl stood, apparently unconscious of 
 everybody, her head turned away from the general 
 company. Her eyes, sharp and intense, looked 
 strained, as if she were trying to see something at a 
 distance. She sang without unclasping her hands ; 
 those near her could see that she was excited, only 
 by the trembling of the loose folds, and the shim 
 mering of her silk gown. The song ended in a mur 
 mur of applause which was too deeply felt to be 
 loud. 
 
FRIENDS AND FRIENDS. 65 
 
 Rachel whispered to the girl, who, without chang 
 ing her position, sang, in the same key, "Annie 
 Laurie," and from that she went to "Auld Robin 
 Grey." As she went on, the feeling and passion of 
 her voice seemed to grow more intense, until, at the 
 close of "Auld Robin Grey," she passed to "Home, 
 Sweet Home." The song was heart-breaking in 
 its pathos, like the song of an exile. From the 
 first note it was desolate. 
 
 The last note died and the girl dropped her head 
 upon her breast. Rachel went to her and spoke her 
 name softly, "Miss MacClare!" and held out her 
 hand. The girl grasped Rachel s hand in both of 
 her own and held it. People began to press around 
 her ; everybody wanted to get a sight of her. Ra 
 chel felt her trembling all over and thought she was 
 frightened. 
 
 "Look up, Miss MacClare," she said kindly, try 
 ing to reassure her; "your singing was beautiful, 
 and everybody wants to tell you so." 
 
 Miss MacClare lifted her head with a gesture that 
 was almost defiant. Her eyes lighted upon Mrs. 
 Riverston, whose face loomed up above the others 
 around her. Miss MacClare flashed a quick, angry 
 glance at it, then, throwing Rachel s hand from her, 
 she ran out of the door and away upstairs. 
 
 While general attention was centred in a buzz of 
 talk about the Scotch girl, her wonderful singing 
 and strange disappearance, Mrs. Riverston seized 
 the opportunity to draw Mrs. Stanwood to a seat 
 upon a little sofa across a corner of the front room. 
 
 "I shall be so glad to have your advice concern- 
 
GG EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ing my interesting young protegee, my dear Mrs. 
 Stanwood," she said, confidentially. "What can 
 be done for her? Your daughter thought that her 
 voice ought to be cultivated. There is no question 
 that she is right about it, and I am sure everybody 
 here, after hearing her sing, would agree with her. 
 If you could only suggest something! I consider 
 your advice more valuable than that of any other 
 person, I assure you." 
 
 "About music?" asked Mrs. Stanwood dryly. 
 
 "Oh no, of course, I did not mean as to her 
 musical education," said Mrs. Kiverston, laughing 
 behind her fan. "Your daughter has promised to 
 consult some musician about that, and I have no 
 doubt he will undertake to put it through. But I 
 want your advice as to the the disposal of Miss 
 MacClare. I have really done all that I am able to 
 in that direction, and must have her, in some way, 
 taken off my hands. You see, it is quite impossible 
 for me to keep her any longer, with my family and 
 large number of servants. I want your advice as 
 to where she should be sent. Would not some of 
 these people who have just heard her, have some 
 place to propose? That is why I urged you to allow 
 her to sing this evening, I was so sure they would 
 be delighted, and I thought some of them would 
 surely be interested in befriending her. You are 
 so practical, my dear friend, that I know your ad 
 vice will be most valuable. Indeed, to obtain it 
 was my principal object in coining this evening; for 
 I must act upon it, I must, indeed. You see," 
 drawing nearer to Mrs. Stanwood, to be very confi- 
 
FltlENDS AND FRIENDS. 67 
 
 dential, and touching that lady s folded hands with 
 the tip of her closed fan, "you see, my servants are 
 unwilling- to wait upon her, her meals, you know, 
 have to be carried upstairs, as, of course, we cannot 
 have her at our table, they are unwilling to wait 
 upon her, and I cannot ask them to do it. We are 
 bound to protect those whom we employ from in 
 justice and imposition. I do not feel that I have 
 a right to impose upon anybody under my roof, 
 Mrs. Stan wood." 
 
 Mrs. Kiverston s talk came in like the tide, in low, 
 gentle, incessant successions of waves. Once in a 
 while, with the tenth wave perhaps, it worked up to 
 a more excited pitch, and once in a good while, 
 when a thought was exhausted, a wave broke over 
 it and, receding, gave the listener a chance for re 
 sponse. It was necessary to be deft, to avail one s 
 self of the opportunity. 
 
 Mrs. Eiverston felt that she was on a high plane 
 of thought just now, and one which Mrs. Stanwood 
 would appreciate. She repeated it, "I never allow 
 anybody, who is under my roof and my protection, 
 to be imposed upon ! " 
 
 A wave was receding and Mrs. Stanwood asked, 
 "Then thee has not considered this girl as under thy 
 protection ? Or is she the one who does the impos 
 ing?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Stanwood!" Mrs. Riverston ex 
 claimed, sending a tenth wave over the little lady. 
 "You understand the situation perfectly, as I knew 
 you would. I have been most frightfully imposed 
 upon by her. I have given her two silk dresses, 
 
t>8 HAVIIKL 8TANWOOH. 
 
 two bonnetSt and several thinffs which my daughter 
 
 ** ~* 
 
 had finished with, ami I have had my own maid alter 
 ami li\ them up, and do so much to them that she 
 has given me notice (hat she will leave, when her 
 month is up, if Miss Mat Clare remains. Why! 
 von cannot possibly estimate what 1 have done, for 
 her. Think of the opportunity, Mrs. Stanwood! 
 The opportunity afforded her by being under my 
 roof (Mrs. Hi version thought a great deal of her 
 roof), and of being allowed to make a genuine sensa 
 tion at tho most costly entertainment which 1 have 
 given in a year! Of course, she did not mix with 
 tho company, as you wanted her to do this evening. 
 It wonld not have done. That reception was on the 
 occasion of my son s coming of age, but this even 
 ing is somewhat most charming! most delightful! 
 but ditVerent, is it not, Mrs. Stanwood?" 
 
 There was a pause, but Mrs. Stanwood allowed 
 the wave, this time, to break on the sandy shore of 
 Mrs. Ri version s own mind. 
 
 lu a moment that lady went on, "Ami now 1 
 have given her this opportunity of singing in your 
 parlor, and 1 feel as if, in justice to myself, it ought 
 to end Aw. Ho yon not think so? And do you 
 not think the girl s own good, 1 feel conscientious 
 about that, $Jw must be thought of" Mrs. 
 Kivorston did not observe Mrs. Stan wood s lifted 
 eyebrows or hoar her give a significant long sigh of 
 which that quiet lady was herself unconscious. 
 
 "Do yon not think," Mrs. Kivorston continued, 
 "it would bo cruel to allow the girl to go on in this 
 way?" 
 
/< / 7A,W/>.S AND WtlKNDS. <>!) 
 
 Mrs. Stauwood took advantage of this receding 
 wave and said boldly, "Yes, I do." 
 
 "Thank you .so much!" Mrs. Riverston ex 
 claimed, rising to intimate that she considered the 
 conversation at an end. "You are .so kind! Then 
 I shall dismiss the girl to-morrow, and send her 1<> 
 you for advice. It is time for us to go. 1 see my 
 young people waiting for me. 1 wonder where Miss 
 MacClare is! Will you he so very kind, Mrs. 
 Stanwood, as to ask one of your servants to tell her 
 to follow me to the dressing-room? Thank you! 
 And your daughter, will you say good-night to 
 her for me? 1 am so vert/ grateful to you, I 
 knew you would help me. Here is my husband to 
 Hay good-night also. My dear" turning to a tall, 
 jovial-looking gentleman with bushy gray Knglish 
 whiskers, who was laughing and showing superb 
 teeth as he listened to something which Mr. Stan- 
 wood was saying to him. lie turned in answer to 
 his wife, who went on vigorously, "My dear, Mrs. 
 Stanwood has been advising me in regard to Miss 
 MaeClare. She thinks as 1 do, and I am to send 
 the girl to her to-morrow. (Yoor/-evcning, Mr. 
 Stanwood! You and your wife have; given us a, 
 most delightful occasion ! " And, with a, rather 
 peremptory "Come, Frederick!" aside: to her hus 
 band, and a stately bend, adapted for society, to 
 her host and hostess, Mrs. Uiverston sailed out of 
 Ihe room. Mrs. Stanwood turned her face toward 
 her husband, gave vent to a sort of blank sigh, and 
 remarked, "What I >iic<nit was thai her treatment 
 of the girl was a piece of cruelty! But there was 
 no time for any more. 
 
70 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 The company was breaking up and the next half 
 hour was devoted to saying good-bys, interspersed 
 with snatches of conversations on the subject of the 
 business which had been prominent in the early part 
 of the evening. The last person to go was Mr. 
 Garrison, for whose departure the children had been 
 peeping over the banisters. They had gone to bed 
 long ago, but had been kept awake by the unusual 
 noise and excitement in the house. Now they came 
 pattering downstairs, barefooted, and in their night 
 gowns, to kiss Mr. Garrison good-by. He was de 
 lighted, and after a very small frolic, he leaned 
 over the banisters, put a hand upon each of their 
 heads, and said, "Good, solid heads, with healthy 
 brains inside ! Nobody knows, children, the think 
 ing stowed away in them, or how much they are 
 destined to help the world." 
 
 Elizabeth and Richard ran upstairs laughing, but 
 with no idea of what Mr. Garrison meant. They 
 never suspected that their father had told him how 
 they had kept guard, that morning in the garden, of 
 the entrance to the underground railroad. 
 
 The house was all quiet and Mr. Stan wood was 
 beginning to put out the lights in the parlors, when 
 Rachel appeared, saying in distress, 
 
 "Do come to that Scotch girl, mother! I found 
 her in the attic, and she s in hysterics! " 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 " HAW YET WILSON. " 
 
 HAVILAH MOORE, with her little girl Diana, and 
 Harriet Wilson, had escaped together from the 
 same master. They had passed for a lady traveling 
 with her child and servant, Havilah and Diana be 
 ing almost white and Harriet very dark. Their 
 escape had been bold and easy. They had been in 
 New York about a fortnight at the time when their 
 master had so nearly captured Harriet. Soon after 
 that occurrence, it being ascertained that he had, 
 temporarily at least, abandoned his search as fruit 
 less and returned to the South, Havilah and the 
 child had been conveyed to Mr. Stan wood s, to re 
 main there until a safer refuge could be found. 
 Havilah was of a morose disposition, nervous and 
 inclined to melancholy. Her experiences as a slave 
 had made her bitter. By herself, she might either 
 have settled into a condition of hopeless submission, 
 or have put an end to her life; but she lived for 
 Diana. The discovery that Diana was to be sold 
 had inspired her with the determination to escape 
 with her from slavery, and now she had but one 
 hope, to secure freedom for her child. Until 
 that was accomplished and Diana free from the 
 danger of being carried again into slavery, Havilah 
 
72 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 could not feel any sense of joy. There was no 
 happiness for her in liberty which might end any 
 day. Her master was a cruel one; and she was 
 haunted by the fear of her child being doomed to 
 suffer as she had suffered since his purchase of her. 
 She still dreamed of the baying of hounds, and, 
 what was worse to her, the voice of the overseer. 
 Even in the Stan woods attic, her sleep was like 
 that of a hunted deer. 
 
 Just before daybreak, on the morning after the 
 party, she awoke with a start, sprang to her feet, 
 and stood trembling from head to foot in an agony 
 of terror. A slight noise in the next room had been 
 exaggerated in her dreams, and she thought Diana 
 was in the arms of her master, being carried away. 
 She felt in the dark and touched the child, who was 
 sleeping soundly. 
 
 "Fo de Lawd s sake, w at s de matteh, Hab- 
 lah?" asked Harriet, who had been awakened. 
 When Havilah explained, Harriet laughed outright, 
 burying her face in the bedclothes to smother the 
 sound. 
 
 "Ef yo ain t de bigges kin of a scah-crow in de 
 hull Norf!" she whispered. "Lay down agin an 
 take yo res . I m gwine to git up an joy m se f, 
 an ef Massa S dan sen anybody to quire fer yo , 
 I 11 brung up der cyards. So yo an Di ken sleep 
 wid yo min s quiet." 
 
 Havilah lay down again beside the child. "I m 
 right sorry I wakened yo , Harriet," she said. 
 
 "Sh! Sh!" said Harriet, striking a light. 
 u Doan yo say Hawyet no mo ; yo s got to lun 
 
"UAWYET WILSON." 73 
 
 to call me Delphiny, dat s my name now. Ef 
 Massa S dan sen fo me, I ain t a-gwine to be yer! 
 I ain t no Hawyet no mo ! I m Delphiny K. 
 Simpson! " 
 
 " Delphina, then," said Havilah. " What are yo 
 getting up for?" 
 
 "To joy m se f, I done tol yo dat. Yo go 
 sleep," said the girl, busy dressing herself. In a 
 few minutes she was on her way downstairs, tread 
 ing cautiously on the sides of the steps to keep them 
 from creaking. 
 
 Harriet was the reverse of Havilah in every re 
 spect. Her temperament was as cheerful as Havi- 
 lah s was sombre. She had been cruelly treated, 
 but her sufferings seemed to have left few traces. 
 Perhaps it was because they had been principally 
 physical and were easiest forgotten. She had no 
 family that she was aware of, and it was from no 
 dread of separation from any one dear to her that 
 she had run away; she had longed for liberty for 
 liberty s sake, that was all. Her very method of 
 obtaining it had been characteristic of her happy, 
 careless disposition. She had boldly announced to 
 her master that she intended to run away from him, 
 advised him to watch her closely, if he wanted to 
 keep her, and had followed him up so persistently 
 with assertions that she was going to be free, and 
 warnings of how to prevent her, that he ceased to 
 listen to her and believed she was only jesting. 
 When, therefore, Havilah suggested to her the plan 
 she had contrived for their escape, the girl had so 
 thrown her master off guard that their way was com- 
 
74 EACH EL STAN WOOD. 
 
 paratively easy. She now looked upon her free 
 dom as secure, and her joy in its possession was 
 irrepressible. That it was precarious, nothing would 
 convince her. Her recent peril, instead of alarming, 
 reassured her. Her master had tried to catch her, 
 and, within arm s reach of her, had failed. That only 
 proved his stupidity. He was not clever enough to 
 catch her, and that was all there was about it. She 
 was free and was going to stay free, and the joy of 
 feeling her liberty was intoxicating. She was glad 
 to be awakened just to be reminded of it. 
 
 Reaching the basement, she set clown her candle 
 and shoes she wore shoes and stockings only when 
 obliged to, going barefoot whenever she was out of 
 sight of Mrs. Stan wood and Rachel, and proceeded 
 to unfasten the door and windows which opened from 
 the kitchen into the garden. The first sniff of morn 
 ing air seemed to act like wine upon her. She darted 
 out to the grass plot and swung lightly, two or three 
 times, around one of the clothes posts. She tried 
 each of the other three in like manner and then 
 stopped to take breath. The whistle of an engine 
 rang out into the stillness, and an early train of cars 
 rushed and hooted along Tenth Avenue. 
 
 "Massy sakes, g long!" Harriet exclaimed, 
 watching the white smoke roll against the darkness 
 and disappear. "Yo 11 wake de dead afo de day 
 o Judgment! " She held on to the post while she 
 stretched back to watch a second cloud of smoke 
 from the retreating engine. "G long fas ez light- 
 nin , ef yo wants to! " she said, as another whistle 
 sounded in the distance. "/ ain t aboard, gwine 
 
"HAWYET WILSON." 75 
 
 souf! / sail right. It s him dat got on de wrong 
 side ob de fence! An he might s well gib it up, 
 coze he ain t gwine to cotch me. I s clean gone, an 
 he kin trabel, but he won t fin Hawyet Wilson. I 
 airit Hawyet Wilson no mo , an he ain t yeard ob 
 Miss Delphiny K. Simpson nebber. Massa S dan, 
 Squah, ain t smart nough to fin dat pusson. How 
 ken he fin me when I ain t m se f ? I d like to 
 know dat." She went into the kitchen delighted at 
 this idea. It amused her beyond everything, and 
 she steadied herself by the table while she shook 
 with noiseless laughter. "He kin come yer agin 
 ef he likes," she went on, talking to herself. "Oh 
 ya-as! An he 11 ast fo Hawyet Wilson an ebery- 
 buddy 11 tell him dey ain t no pusson ob dat name 
 iiowhah an all de time dere 11 be Delphiny K. 
 Simpson down dah, on de right side ob de fence! " 
 
 She laughed until her fun was exhausted and then, 
 set herself to thinking of something to do. Her en 
 ergy kept pace with her happiness, and she was al 
 ways ready for action. "Now Delphiny, w at she 
 gwine to do? " she asked. It did not take her half a 
 minute to decide. " I know ; de Gran P rade ! Miss 
 Stan d she said it mus git washed." She went to 
 work vigorously, turned the front of her skirt up and 
 pinned it behind her, selected the best broom in the 
 closet, laid it on the table, and, after unfastening 
 the front basement door, filled two pails with water. 
 
 She carried them, one balanced on her head, out 
 to the sidewalk, set them down and stood for a few 
 moments with her hands on her hips, taking a sur 
 vey of the street. She watched an early milk wagon 
 
76 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 go by, and then looked up at the windows of the 
 houses. There was a light in an upper window of 
 one. "Wat yo doin up dis time o night?" she 
 said, looking at it. " Yo better go to bade agin, 
 I don want nobody gittin up to spy rouii an see 
 me washin de " She suddenly doubled herself 
 
 up and went off into a fit of suppressed laughter. 
 " Golly!" she said, in a minute, and laughed again 
 immoderately. Something had suggested itself to 
 her which pleased her mightily. Mrs. Stanwood 
 had told her to wash the sidewalk before breakfast; 
 while all the people were asleep in their houses she 
 decided she would wash all six sidewalks ! It was 
 such fun to be free ! 
 
 Delphina as she is going to insist upon it, we 
 will call her so hereafter Delphina was delighted 
 with her inspiration and set to work. She spent 
 the next hour in sloshing, dousing, and sweeping, 
 running back and forth with her pails and fresh 
 supplies of water, getting wetter as she went along 
 and enjoying herself as much as if it were all a 
 frolic. It was too early for anybody to be about, 
 and Delphina was in her glory, making the water 
 fly, and gradually reducing the broom to a wreck. 
 
 She washed all six sidewalks and it was five 
 o clock when her task was finished and she returned 
 to the kitchen. 
 
 "Who s dah?" she said, stopping in the door 
 way, a little startled to see a strange figure standing 
 by the window. 
 
 "It s I, Tibbie MacClare," answered the girl, 
 herself startled by the blackness and weird appear 
 ance of Delphina. 
 
"HAWYET WILSON." 77 
 
 "Who s yo ? Whar yo come from? W at s 
 yo arter, an whar yo gwine to? " Delphina said to 
 herself, while she put away the pails and broom, 
 taking in, as she did so, the items of Miss Mac- 
 Clare s personal appearance. 
 
 "Hm! Seen Miss Kaychel in dat frock more n 
 wunst! " she thought. 
 
 Miss MacClare moved toward the stove. There 
 was something in her appearance which excited pity. 
 "Is yo col ?" Delphina asked, and, without wait 
 ing for an answer, went on, "Yo looks col , miss. 
 Come sit yer," drawing a chair to one corner of the 
 hearth. "Sit yer, an I 11 bull yo up a fah in no 
 time. Aunt Peggy, she leabs it all ready to light, 
 so yo won be col more n a minute." Delphina 
 lit the fire and knelt on the hearth, peering through 
 the grating at the red sparks. 
 
 "Thank you, I m nae cold," said Tibbie ab 
 sently, and indifferent to physical discomfort. She 
 sat down on the chair Delphina had placed for her, 
 and let her hands drop in her lap. 
 
 "Hm! Yo looks beat out," said Delphina. 
 
 "I am!" exclaimed the girl, rubbing her hands 
 nervously over each other. "I m beaten about by 
 everybody, I want to be left alone ! " She spoke 
 in an angry tone and her face clouded into an al 
 most vindictive scowl. 
 
 "Who s been busin yo ? Whoebber dey is, 
 yo s clar ob em yer. Did n know white folks 
 was afeerd ob bein took. Yo s ez bad as Hab- 
 lah! Is yo afeerd o bein took by anybody?" 
 
 "Indeed no! " exclaimed Tibbie. "I will never 
 
78 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 go near any of them any more, nor put a foot inside 
 of one of their grand houses ! If they come for me, 
 I 11 open the door for them and point to it and bid 
 them got" 
 
 She made a gesture of command as she spoke. 
 Delphina, still kneeling on the hearth, opened her 
 "big eyes at Tibbie and dropped her lower jaw. 
 
 "Lawd o massy!" she exclaimed in consterna 
 tion. "Ef yo ken do dat, w at mo yp want? 
 Do yo want to know w at I d hev to do, an Hab- 
 lah, an Di, ef de pusson w at s got de right come 
 for us ? Yo know Hablah ? " 
 
 "No; who is she?" answered Tibbie, sulkily. 
 
 " She s a lady up stahs wid her lill gell Di. 
 Ya-as she is," Delphina insisted, as if Miss Mac- 
 Clare disputed her statement. "Ya-as she is. 
 She s a lady as much as you are, on y handsomer, 
 heaps. Wa-all, ef dat man I tol yo bout come 
 yer, dey would n t be no p intin at de do for 
 Hablah an de chile an me ! He d be de one to 
 p int, an we d hev to go de way he p inted. An 
 do yo want to know whah he d p int?" 
 
 "Where?" asked Tibbie, interested. 
 
 Delphina rose on her knees and pointed, saying, 
 "He d p int to de Sou/! He d p int to a place 
 whah he s got men to beat us mos to de f, an 
 dogs to tear us to pieces, and " 
 
 "Oh, hush! What is it you re telling me?" 
 cried Tibbie, horrified. 
 
 "Ya-as, he s got em all, an mo , too!" shouted 
 Delphina, feeling entirely secure from the dreadful 
 possibilities, but wishing to impress Tibbie. "Dey 
 
"HAWYET WILSON." 79 
 
 ain t nuffin w at he can t do, ef he takes cle notion; 
 but dose folks o yourn can t do nuffin t all. 
 Dey s got to clar de tracks an git outen de road, 
 when yo tells em to quit. Yo s got yo self an 
 yo s got de folks up stahs to keep, dat s what 
 yo s got! We s got to leab em an go clean off 
 to Canada, but yo ken stay yer mongst em, an 
 ef yo loses em it 11 be yo own fault, jes like yo 
 f rowed em out vvid de rubbige! An ef yo ebber 
 do dat -Delphina pointed her finger ominously 
 at Tibbie, "ef yo does dat, Ole Satan hisself 11 
 stir de fah fo yo dat time, an he 11 warm yo 
 up!" 
 
 "Hawyet, yo d better leave dat gen leman to 
 tend to his furnace himself, an fin stimp m else 
 to talk bout," said a middle-aged colored woman 
 coming in at the door. 
 
 "An I wish you d frow sump m ahead in yo 
 pahf, so we d know yo was comin I " said Harriet, 
 who had sprung to her feet startled. "I was on y 
 jes tellin dis yer lady " 
 
 "Well, now, now! " said Aunt Peggy, coming to 
 look into the tea-kettle. "Dis yer lady an me s 
 quainted. Ef you d a filled de kettle when you 
 lit de fire, chile, stead o leabin its bones to rattle, 
 you d a been smarter, an I d a been ready 
 sooner to gib de company a cup o hot coffee. 
 But no matter; you kin led de fire, an dat s one 
 t ing. I reck n by yo petticuts you s washed de 
 sidewalk, too; take off dat outside skut an hang it 
 in de yard to dry, an den sweep de dead leaves in 
 de garden pahfs, dat s a good chile." 
 
80 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Aunt Peggy took the kitchen reins in her own 
 hands now, and set about to prepare an early break 
 fast for Miss MacClare, whose acquaintance she had 
 made in conjunction with her hysterics the night be 
 fore. 
 
 Whatever Miss MacClare s wrongs might be, she 
 was getting disciplined this morning. Aunt Peggy, 
 finding that even the hot coffee and all the advice 
 which she poured out upon the girl failed to affect 
 the bitterness of her mood, finally went to a drawer 
 in the dresser and took from it a Bible. "Dah! " she 
 said, handing it to Tibbie. "Tu n to de twenty- 
 eighth chapter ob Dutyrounme an read ebery wud, 
 from de fust verse to de las one; den yo 11 feel 
 better!" 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MISS MACCLAKE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 
 
 A FEW hours later Mrs. Stan wood, in the little 
 room next to the back parlor, was washing the 
 breakfast things while Rachel wiped and put them 
 away. 
 
 "Not too fast, Rachel; thee will nick the cups. 
 Take things quietly," she said, as Rachel, making 
 most progress in her part of the labor, washed some 
 cups under the faucet at the sink. 
 
 "Quietly!" said Rachel. "With to-day s cam 
 paign before us!* What are we to do with her, 
 mother? If the Riverstons had only waited until 
 we had settled some of the others ! There s a house 
 ful on our hands now, and I don t see how we are 
 going to dispose of them all." 
 
 "Oh, it won t be so difficult," said her mother. 
 "Take time to think and thee will accomplish more. 
 We have no company to take care of, and can give 
 all our attention to the unfortunates." 
 
 "Well, I hope there will be no more arrivals at 
 present," said Rachel, standing on tiptoe to put 
 some things on a high shelf in the glass cupboard. 
 "And I wish Miss Bremer had stayed here instead 
 of going to the Mortons, for it will take genius to 
 know what to do with Miss MacClare." 
 
82 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Oh, no, child," said her mother. "Thee is 
 making a mountain out of a mole-hill." 
 
 "A mountain! / call her a volcano! Thee 
 was n t upstairs when she was stamping on her 
 gown because it was made out of one of Miss River- 
 ston s! " said Rachel. 
 
 "Well, it can be pressed out," said Mrs. Stan- 
 wood. 
 
 " She 11 never touch it again," said Rachel. 
 "What s she got on this morning?" 
 
 " Thy brown gingham ; she was delighted to make 
 the exchange," said Mrs. Stan wood. 
 
 "Thee needn t call it that, even in fun, mother! " 
 exclaimed Rachel impatiently. "Mrs. Riverston 
 and her daughter would give me their old clothes, 
 though, if they dared." 
 
 "Nonsense! Fiddlesticks!" said her mother 
 laughing. "Thee ought to have been named Mar 
 tha, thee takes so many cares." 
 
 "It s the cares that take me, mother," said Ra 
 chel. "There s the doorbell, I hope it isn t a 
 fresh avalanche ! We re having a perfect earth 
 quake of them just now! " 
 
 "It will soon quiet down, child, don t worry. 
 Thee will see Mr. Kreutsohn to-day, and arrange 
 for him to hear Tibbie that is her name sing. 
 He will set her to work at her music, and that will 
 make a different creature of her. Here! come 
 back, Harriet!" intercepting the girl in the entry, 
 who was hurrying to answer the doorbell. 
 
 " How often have I told thee, Harriet, never to go 
 to either door?" she asked, with some annoyance. 
 
MISS MACCLAHE BEGINS A NEW CAEEEE. 83 
 
 The girl sniggered, showing all her teeth, and 
 said, "Yo ain t nebber tol dat to Dd-pkiny K. 
 Simpson, missus!" 
 
 Mrs. Stanwood tried to look serious, and made 
 a failure of it. She repeated the order, using the 
 girl s new name, and sent her downstairs again. 
 
 "She ll walk into her master s clutches, yet!" 
 she remarked, returning to the china closet. The 
 door between the closet and the entry slid open and 
 Susy Morton s fresh face appeared. 
 
 "Good-morning, Aunt Debby ! " she said, kissing 
 her cheek. Susy and Rachel exchanged smiles. 
 
 "I 11 take thy place, Aunt Debby. I know thee 
 has something else to do," said Susy, taking off her 
 gloves. She was evidently familiar with the house 
 and its ways, for she helped herself to a clean apron 
 from one of the drawers, tied it around her, and 
 with another kiss on Mrs. Stanwood s cheek, gently 
 ousted her from her position. "Let me," she said. 
 "I do love to wash dishes in this house; you always 
 have such boiling hot water and so many spandy 
 clean towels." 
 
 "Very well, then I will have a little talk with 
 Tibbie, and write to Mrs. Riverston," said Mrs. 
 Stanwood. "When you are through here, Rachel, 
 thee get the children ready to carry my note." 
 
 Susy was full of interest in the appearance of the 
 Desborough and Riverston families at the party on 
 the previous evening. After a few comments on 
 the success of the occasion, Susy said, "From what 
 Will said, I should think that Grace really waked 
 up. She is so quiet that it is hard to imagine it, 
 
84 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 but Will can wake up anybody. He says she is, if 
 not an out-and-out abolitionist, next door to one. 
 He thinks she does not seem very happy, and that 
 she has the look of a person who is pining for some 
 thing. Does thee think so, Kay?" 
 
 "Poor Grace! " said Eachel. "It s easy enough 
 to see that she hasn t something she wants. I wish 
 they d let her go into the fair business with us ! 
 It would do her lots of good just to work and get 
 tired out with all the rest of us. I think she s 
 suffering: for a will of her own. She never does 
 
 O 
 
 anything except what her mother plans to have her, 
 and, if she could have a few good times of the kind 
 she wants, I believe she d wake up and stay so." 
 
 "Why won t they let her come into the fair 
 work with us?" asked Susy. 
 
 " Oh, law ! Thee would n t ask if thee had seen 
 as much of the mother as I have, or talked to the 
 brother as long as I did last night," said Rachel. 
 "There!" putting away the last cups, "now the 
 salts, and that will be all." She emptied the salt 
 cellars and they went at the pretty work of wash 
 ing, refilling, and stamping them with the star on 
 the bottom of a wine glass. 
 
 "He s a high and mighty one, is my Lord 
 Duke!" Susy remarked. "Mattie and I decided 
 that he wasn t getting what he wanted while thee 
 had him. Mother says he s chairman of the deco 
 ration committee ; think he 11 be here on Third-day 
 evening?" 
 
 "I don t know and don t care," answered Rachel. 
 "First I thought he was a hopeless case, and then, 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 85 
 
 for a minute, that he d been born again, but I 
 think, by to-day, he must be in sackcloth and ashes 
 because he came here at all." 
 
 "Don t know about that, Ray," said Susy, puck 
 ering her mouth and shaking her head. " Sackcloth 
 scratches; the duke would never put it on, whatever 
 the occasion. How did his mother get on? She 
 looked like a fish out of water." 
 
 Rachel smiled and answered, 
 
 "She wouldn t like to own it, but she had a 
 beautiful time. She s in sackcloth to-day, though, 
 I am positive. Come upstairs now and help me get 
 the children dressed, will thee?" She closed the 
 o-lass door leading on to the piazza, and drew down 
 the shade. 
 
 When they reached Rachel s room, Susy returned 
 to the discussion of Mrs. Desborough. "I thought 
 she looked worried. Why does thee think she en 
 joyed herself, and why the sackcloth? She isn t 
 in any danger of being dragged into the fair." 
 
 "She was worried just because she was having 
 such a good time," said Rachel. "She was never 
 half, or quarter, so much interested before, and it 
 was n t proper for her to be entertained by such a 
 queer set as she thinks we all are. I haven t been 
 scrutinized by her and the River stons, without learn 
 ing to know it when I m disapproved of. But she 
 did find the people she talked with interesting, and 
 thee noticed her between times, when she was on pins 
 and needles for fear their being here was going to 
 make them too intimate with us. We are not the 
 correct thing at all, Sue, dear, and thee needn t be 
 
86 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 so daft as to expect to meet Mr. Horace Desborough 
 here on Third-day evening. He 11 write me a beau 
 tiful little note before then, expressing his regret 
 that business engagements interfere ; see if he 
 doesn t." 
 
 "Young Mr. Kiverston would come in a minute, 
 Ray, if thee d invite him. We do need a few gen 
 tlemen awfully, and we might use him for" 
 
 "For what? " asked Rachel, getting a dress of her 
 little sister s from a closet. 
 
 "Decoration, of course; what s our committee 
 for? " said Susy, laughing. "He wears such pretty 
 gloves and brings thee such lovely flowers. He d 
 look sweet behind our table." 
 
 "Poor fellow! I think thee s hard on him," said 
 Rachel, brushing Betty s bonnet at the window. 
 
 " Thee was hard on him last night, Ray Stan- 
 wood," said Susy. "Thee might have worn some 
 of his flowers, instead of carrying Grace s all the 
 evening. Leaving them all by their lone selves, off 
 in the back parlor! Meg Norris and Mattie and I 
 came near dividing them among us." 
 
 "Why didn t you? I wish you had," said Ra 
 chel. 
 
 Susy laughed again. "I call that cruel," she 
 said. "And there he was, poor boy, buzzing 
 around, trying to get within hailing distance of 
 thee, taking up with us because he couldn t do any 
 better, and answering us in dreams, with his eyes 
 Ahem ! I d like just to know how it feels to have 
 a pair of eyes after you like that ! " 
 
 "Do stop thy nonsense, Sue Morton, and rip this 
 
MISS MAC CL ABE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 87 
 
 ruffle off Betty s dress. She and Dick have got to 
 take a note to Mrs. Riverston." 
 
 "She didn t have a very good time, did she?" 
 said Susy, snipping the bastings. 
 
 "Yes; she s an awfully wet blanket and extin 
 guishes everybody, but she got what she came for, 
 and went home happy. And oh, Sue, didn t Re 
 becca enjoy those Scotch songs? Didn t she think 
 Miss MacClare s voice wonderful?" 
 
 "Beck was in the clouds and has been misty ever 
 since," said Susy. 
 
 The girls passed into recalling and summing up 
 the evening s pleasures and successes. Rachel sup 
 pressed the recollection of the Scotch girl s subse 
 quent behavior, and dwelt upon the beauty of her 
 voice and the project concerning its cultivation. 
 
 Elizabeth and Richard appeared, to be made ready 
 to carry the note. 
 
 The Riverstons lived in a corner house in the 
 neighborhood of Washington Parade Ground. 
 There was an imposing entrance for the family and 
 friends upon one side of it, and one around the 
 corner for servants and tradespeople. At the base 
 of the house, interrupted only by the two entrances, 
 was a broad mound covered with well-kept lawn 
 grass and finished on its outer edge by a stone wall 
 two feet high. 
 
 Elizabeth and Richard did not know at first to 
 which door they had better go. The main entrance 
 looked formidable, and they went around the corner 
 to take a survey of the one there. The mound 
 rounded, with its wall, on either side of the ser- 
 
88 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 vants door, which was of heavy ash protected by a 
 gate of iron filigree. There was the same filigree 
 at all the lower windows. The servants entrance 
 side did not look promising and the children re 
 turned to the great front door. Richard walked 
 around to it on top of the little stone wall; Eliza 
 beth wanted to, but she had on her best clothes, 
 and was on her dignity. At the top of the high 
 doorsteps were two crouching lions carved in stone. 
 
 "Heigho! " said Eichard, getting astride of one. 
 "Don t ring yet, Betty! Wait till I try the other 
 feller; ain t they jolly ?" 
 
 "Oh, Dick! " said Betty, with affected tolerance, 
 and a secret longing to sit on a lion too. "Some 
 body may see thee, and thee d be awfully ashamed. 
 Thee d better get off. I in going to ring. Mother 
 said we mustn t poke." 
 
 She pulled the brass knob, and then was sorry be 
 cause she perceived fearful signs of the lion s dust 
 upon Dick. 
 
 "Oh, Dick, look at thy jacket behind! " she cried. 
 
 "It s on my knees, too, and my gloves! " he said 
 ruefully, holding his hands out. "What shall I do, 
 Betty? Shall I run before they open the door?" 
 It was a brilliant thought, and he d have gone if 
 Betty, seized with horror at the thought of being 
 deserted, had not promptly and vigorously laid 
 hands upon him. 
 
 "No, thee shan t go a step! " she exclaimed, hold 
 ing on with difficulty and trying to slap the dust off 
 his back. "Mother sent thee on the errand just as 
 much as me, and I won t go in alone. Hold still! " 
 
MISS NAG CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 89 
 
 "She didn t; thee s got the letter, and I m only 
 for company." 
 
 "She did! "said Betty. 
 
 "Didn t!" said Dick, but he wriggled out of 
 her grasp too late. The door opened, and a pompous 
 butler was holding it in a way which seemed to in 
 dicate that they could enter the house over his dead 
 body, only. 
 
 "What d ye want?" he asked, looking down at 
 them as if they had come to steal. 
 
 "We we brought a letter," said Betty, holding 
 it up, "and we re to wait for an answer." 
 
 Both children looked up at the cross butler as if 
 he had authority to arrest them immediately. 
 
 He admitted them and said, "Ye can wait here." 
 He put the note upon a silver tray, which he took 
 from a table, and walked upstairs leisurely. 
 
 The children were left standing in a large, square 
 hall. Opposite the front door there was an open 
 fireplace with brass furnishings, a large landscape 
 painting over it, and on either side heavy chairs 
 of carved oak. There were a good many doors in 
 every direction, excepting on the left of the fire 
 place, where was a grand staircase with carved bal 
 ustrades, at the foot of which, on pedestals, were two 
 statues, one of young Bacchus with a load of fruits, 
 and the other of Hebe pouring nectar. By the front 
 door where the children were standing was an enor 
 mous mirror, and opposite it was a stiff oak bench, 
 with carved back and arms, like a very limited and 
 uncomfortable church pew. 
 
 The butler came downstairs as he had gone up, 
 
90 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 leisurely. He did not look at the children, but, on 
 his way to a room back of the fireplace, croaked, 
 "Ye 11 have an answer when it s ready," and pass 
 ing through one of the doors, closed it behind him. 
 
 "I didn t move, Betty," whispered Dick. 
 "Does thee think he saw the dirt on my back?" 
 
 "No," whispered Betty, turning to look; then 
 adding hastily, "Yes, he could see in the looking- 
 glass. But," as Dick twisted to see himself behind, 
 "may be he didn t look." 
 
 "If he sees it, he 11 know I ve been on a lion," 
 said Dick, a little anxious. 
 
 "Come sit here and he can t," said Betty, taking 
 a seat on the pew bench. It was so high that even 
 Betty s feet could not touch the floor unless she sat 
 forward. 
 
 "I d brush it off, if it wouldn t make a noise," 
 she said. "Sh! what s that?" A door opened 
 somewhere and closed again. It was very still. A 
 tall clock in the corner by them ticked with solemn 
 dignity. The children, silent for a while, took a 
 survey of everything. The light was dull, finding- 
 its way through the windows over the top and down 
 the sides of the front door. More found its way 
 from a window half way up the staircase. Presently 
 Dick began to be restless. "I wish I had run 
 away! Mother didn t say it, neither." 
 
 "Sh! she did! Thee might have got lost," said 
 Betty. 
 
 "Did n t, did n t, did n t, whatever thee says, 
 I say it twice as many times; and I wouldn t get 
 lost," said Dick. 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAEEER. 91 
 
 "Well, thee can t get away now, anyhow," said 
 Betty, outdone in the argument. "And thee d 
 better not whisper so loud, or that man 11 come 
 along. He s worse than Mr. Cumley." 
 
 "George and Louis Norris call Mr. Cumley 
 Hairem Scarem, but I like Bobtight better," 
 said Dick. 
 
 "Hush! " said Betty, laughing softly. 
 
 There was another minute or two of silence and 
 then Betty said, "Let s play something." 
 
 "Play what?" asked Dick, standing up to hitch 
 his trousers. The clock by him buzzed suddenly 
 and began to strike. Dick s "oh!" was a squeak, 
 and set both children to laughing. They tried their 
 best to smother the sounds, wriggled, hitched, and 
 finally got down on their knees to hide their faces 
 in the seat of the bench, but every other instant 
 there would escape a wheeze or a sputter from one 
 of them, and that would set them off anew. It was 
 entertaining, though, trying not to laugh aloud, and 
 disposed of at least ten minutes. By that time 
 their laugh was exhausted, and would not be coaxed 
 back. They made soft, intentional little squeals, 
 but it was of no use ; the laugh was over and time 
 again hung heavily. The grim old clock ticked as 
 if there was so much time on hand that it could 
 never be parcelled off where it belonged. It seemed 
 to tick nothing but, "Plen-ty of -Time! Plen-ty 
 of -Time!" The children kept time with their 
 hands and then with their feet. Then they slid 
 down from the bench and stepped on tiptoe across 
 the black and white chequered marble floor to the 
 
92 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 table in the middle of the hall. For a while they 
 played that they would be poisoned if they trod 
 upon any but the white squares of marble. Once 
 in a while a little sound in the house sent them 
 hustling back to the pew-bench. Twice the door 
 bell rang and gave them hope of deliverance. But 
 the butler answered it both times, once telling some 
 body that the ladies were out, and the other time 
 receiving a parcel with which he disappeared by one 
 of the doors. He took no notice of the children 
 either time. Once there was a rustle on the stairs, 
 and Miss Riverston came down in fine array, to go 
 out. The children sat up, very straight and smiling, 
 certain this time that she must be bringing the an 
 swer to their mother s note. But she only pulled a 
 rope by the mirror, which made a bell tinkle in the 
 distance, and summoned the butler, who opened the 
 door for her. She swept out without a word, and 
 when she had gone, two rueful little faces looked at 
 each other. Dick pointed to the door behind which 
 the butler had disappeared, and said in an indignant 
 whisper, "He tells lies! He said they d gone out 
 and she had n t at all! " 
 
 "So he did," said Betty, "may be he thought she 
 was out." 
 
 "Won t she be mad, though, if she finds it out! " 
 Dick said, and for two minutes they speculated on 
 what might be the results of such a discovery. She 
 looked cross, but it did not seem to them that any 
 body could be bold enough to find fault with the 
 butler. They had lost their respect for him, be 
 cause of that lie, but their dread of him had not 
 diminished. 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 93 
 
 "What shall we play now? I m tired of 
 poison, " Dick complained. 
 
 "Play these are a prince and princess, bringing 
 us presents," said Elizabeth, surveying the statues. 
 
 Dick looked from one to the other several times 
 in disgust. Then he said, "If he s a prince, he s 
 a mean, stingy old thing! And so he is, if he s any 
 body at all!" 
 
 "Why, Dick! " exclaimed Elizabeth, scandalized, 
 "he s lovely! I don t see why he s stingy, when 
 he s bringing us such a lot of nice grapes." 
 
 "Well, he is," said Richard, stolidly. "If he s 
 a prince, he ought to buy his sister some clo es to 
 wear; an some for himself, too, clo es what d 
 stay on. And he s a pig! " 
 
 "Why?" asked Betty. "Suppose he isn t a 
 prince, but only a poor boy starting off to seek his 
 fortune?" 
 
 "Well, he s a pig just the same," said Dick. 
 "For, if he can get a beautiful, big basket of grapes, 
 he can sell em an buy clo es with the money. And 
 she s a ninny! She s holding on to that queer 
 pitcher just as if it was so full that she was afraid 
 she d, spill the stuff in it, and it s got such a little 
 neck that it could n t spill. Why, she could take it, 
 like this, and sling it round and round, this way! " 
 Dick slung his arm round furiously several times. 
 
 "Sh-sh-sh! " said Betty, looking up the stairs and 
 all about, to see if anybody was coming to inquire 
 what they were making such a noise about. They 
 were not in the least noisy, but the house was so still 
 that Dick s whispers sounded very loud. Reassured 
 
94 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 by the quiet, Betty said, in defense of the statues, 
 "Thee don t understand, Dick; they are not real 
 people, they are out of poetry." 
 
 "They are n t out of my kind of poetry," he said, 
 with no opinion at all of either Hebe or Bacchus. 
 "Their kind isn t half or quarter so nice as father s 
 about King Hortius and Lake Religious! " 
 
 "Oh, Dick! It s King Horatius, and I forget 
 what the lake is, but I know it isn t Religious," 
 said Betty, secure that her knowledge went further 
 than his. 
 
 "Well, what s the difference?" asked Dick. 
 "An I say t is, t is " - 
 
 "And 1 say whatever thee says twice as many 
 times, so there, I got it in first this time! " said 
 Betty, as fast as her tongue could rattle. They were 
 quite good-natured in most of these disputes, their 
 disagreements being on the surface and ending with 
 simply a tilt, to see which could first close the argu 
 ment with their set form, "whatever thee says, I say 
 it twice as many times." 
 
 "Anyway," said Dick, heaving a big sigh, "I like 
 Plortius the best." His weariness seemed to reach 
 a climax, and he exclaimed, "/ say! This is a 
 grea* deal worse than meeting! Don t thee think 
 we could go, Betty?" 
 
 "No," said Betty, " mother wants an answer to 
 the letter. Hush, now, and be ready, for the clock s 
 going off again; it s two minutes of twelve." 
 
 " I don t care if it busts ! " said Dick, getting cross. 
 "It can t make me laugh any more, an I m awful 
 thirsty, an just as hot as thunder! " 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 95 
 
 "So am I," said Betty, dolefully. But the house 
 was as silent as a tomb, and there seemed no pros 
 pect of release for the little captives. 
 
 The butler delivered Mrs. Staiiwood s note to 
 Mrs. Riverston upstairs in her "morning-room," a 
 name which she thought more elegant than the old- 
 fashioned one of "sitting - room." It was on the 
 front corner of the second floor, with a deep bay- 
 window upon one side, and, on another, two smaller 
 windows, with an open fireplace between them. The 
 furnishings of the room were luxurious. Curtains 
 of silk and lace, stuffed chairs, lounges and soft 
 cushions all betokened the importance of physical 
 comfort to their owners. There seemed to be very 
 little in the room which suggested anything else. 
 The young lady in the oil painting over the mantel 
 piece, represented as waving an adieu to her lover 
 from a balcony, looked, in her waxen beauty, as if 
 she had never experienced a sensation of pain, and 
 as if, should her lover meet with the worst of fates, 
 she would receive news of the calamity with becom 
 ing grace which would neither disturb her repose nor 
 distort her features. The family portraits of two 
 Eiverston ancestors looked as if they had lived well 
 and never lost an hour of sleep, and Mrs. Riverston, 
 sitting in an easy chair reading Mrs. Stanwood s 
 note, looked as if the person who interfered with her 
 comfort would have a hard time of it. The only 
 discomfort in the room seemed embodied in the per 
 son of Miss Clementina Riverston, and she was going 
 out. She had her bonnet on and was sitting- in the 
 
96 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 bay-window, putting on a pair of new kid gloves 
 which were too small. The gloves were trying, but 
 they were not enough to account for the sour expres 
 sion of Miss Riverston s face. 
 
 "Well!" said Mrs. Riverston, reaching Mrs. 
 Stan wood s note to her daughter, who crossed the 
 space between them to receive it. "There s Miss 
 MacClare disposed of! We accomplished that, at 
 any rate, by going last evening." 
 
 "If that is all we accomplished, it is worth the 
 sacrifice," said Clementina, laying the note on her 
 mother s table. "But my opinion is that we went a 
 good distance toward accomplishing something else, 
 in comparison with which Miss MacClare weighs as 
 nothing in the balance." 
 
 "What do you mean, Clementina? Are you 
 thinking of Burton ?" asked her mother, looking a 
 little anxious. 
 
 "Yes, I am," said Clementina, working again at 
 her glove. "That girl is clever enough to know on 
 which side her bread is buttered. Burton s a fool ! 
 He is going to let her rope him in just as she has 
 roped in Horace Desborough." 
 
 "You don t say so !" exclaimed Mrs. Riverston. 
 " What a pity ! That will be pretty hard for the 
 Desboroughs ! I wish I had known it last evening, 
 and I wouldn t have been so worried about poor 
 Burton. If there s a chance of her capturing 
 Horace Desborough, why " 
 
 "Good gracious, mother! If you go on in that 
 way, in another minute you 11 have them married ! 
 I did n t say anything about her capturing him or 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 97 
 
 anybody. It is n t her way to try that sort of thing. 
 Nor is it necessary. The men are fools about her, 
 just as Burton is. She goes about like an empress 
 among them, and it looks to me as if she was just 
 holding off until they were all wild about her, and 
 then, when she is ready, all she will have to do 
 will be to point her imperial finger to one of them 
 and say, 4 I 11 take you, sir! There s the danger, 
 mother, for when she does that, the man will go, 
 whoever he is, and if she chooses to select Burton, 
 there he is, all ready and waiting." 
 
 "Good heavens, explain yourself, Clementina!" 
 cried Mrs. Riverston, impatiently. "You just inti 
 mated that she had selected young Desborough, and 
 now you are alarmed for Burton. And 1 say that 
 I m sorry for the Desboroughs if she succeeds. If 
 she succeeds, understand. For it does not seem 
 probable that such a match as that can be brought 
 about, even with the power you ascribe to her. The 
 Desboroughs will resist it and overcome it. They 
 are not fools. But, even from your own standpoint, 
 I don t see your argument, for Miss Stan wood s 
 very preference for young Desborough will certainly 
 be a protection to Burton. I don t think she seems 
 like the kind of girl to want two strings to her bow. 
 And she seems modest, in the main. She is strong- 
 willed ; I could see that when she was talking to me 
 about Miss MacClare. Her mother was far more 
 amiable and reasonable about that. It was the 
 daughter who made all those suggestions about our 
 doing any more for the girl. She seemed to take it 
 for granted that we would be willing to contribute 
 
98 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 toward her support and musical education. That 
 was pretty cool and rather selfish, considering all that 
 we have done, but she s young and inexperienced, 
 and she has never had any money herself, poor thing, 
 or she would not have made such a proposition. 
 Then, of course, it was not the thing at all for her 
 to be making any suggestions to a person so much 
 older than herself as I am, and one of dignity and 
 position. Her mother is, in every way, her supe 
 rior. She agreed with me in every particular as to 
 Miss MacClare, and I am really indebted to her 
 for"- 
 
 " Well, you had better wait and pay her off when 
 the debt has accumulated to the full amount, 
 mother," said Clementina, who did not always wait 
 for her mother to finish before striking in. 
 
 Clementina had a vocal pedal of her own, which 
 she put down when it was necessary for her to in 
 sert remarks between the waves of her mother s 
 talk. She put it down now, and her mother sub 
 sided while her shriller voice made itself dominant. 
 Going on with the simile of their indebtedness to 
 Mrs. Stanwood, Miss Riverston said, "You need 
 not worry lest she won t hand in her bill, mother, 
 and if it s not for Burton, you may thank fortune, 
 but not Mrs. or Miss Stanwood. Your mind was 
 taken up last night with getting rid of Miss Mac- 
 Clare, and you did not see what I did. Miss Stan- 
 wood did not make her selection as to a lover last 
 evening; she is not nearly ready to do that." 
 
 "Then what" began Mrs. Eiverston, but 
 Clementina s pedal was down, and she continued, 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 99 
 
 "You ll understand, if you 11 wait, mother, and 
 as I am going out, you had better allow me to fin 
 ish, for the carriage will be here in a few minutes. 
 I say that I do not think Miss Stanwood cares to 
 select a husband as yet; she was only selecting a 
 corps of workers for the anti-slavery fair, and she 
 roped in Horace Desborough as one. The very 
 name anti-slavery is enough for you and me, and 
 we must keep Burton out of it, if we can. I pre 
 vented him from having one conversation with Miss 
 Stanwood by sending him off to get me a glass of 
 water, and I d have done it a second time, if a lady 
 with short hair and a baby s cap on had not intro 
 duced herself and cornered me. Such a lot of queer 
 people I never found myself among before ! Some 
 of them looked as if they were dressed for charades. 
 It would have been amusing but for the danger of 
 compromising one s self. Father is n t in the least 
 sympathy with anti-slavery sentiments; why need 
 we have anything whatever to do with people who 
 ride the hobby of abolitionism? " 
 
 "Yes, I would prefer taking a bold stand in the 
 matter," said Mrs. River ston. "But your father 
 says we cannot afford to repudiate those principles 
 altogether. There are the Jays and Sturgises and 
 Schuylers, and a good many of our wealthy people, 
 supporting the anti-slavery party now, and some of 
 the cream of Boston society belongs to it. So we 
 have to accommodate ourselves to both sides, Clem 
 entina, and be careful. It is always safe to be that. 
 And, after all, what would we do without such peo 
 ple as the Stan woods? Who else would take our 
 
100 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 Miss MacClares off our hands? Don t forget that 
 we owe them something for that." 
 
 "Yes," said Clementina, grudgingly. "But we 
 paid off a good part of the debt by going to their 
 house last evening. It is no slight favor to them 
 to have a few handsomely dressed, dignified people 
 of position to give tone to such a company as last 
 night s. I am sure the Stan woods were glad enough 
 to have us and the Desboroughs, and will boast of 
 it, too." 
 
 "Oh, of course they will," said Mrs. Riverston. 
 "But that won t do us much harm. We shall not 
 necessarily invite them here, and " 
 
 "I should hope not!" Miss Eiverston exclaimed 
 impatiently, as she perceived the carriage, from the 
 window, and started to go to it. "I should hope 
 not, if only for Burton s sake! " 
 
 Miss Riverston s disposition was sharpened by 
 various causes. She was something of an invalid, 
 being a sufferer from dyspepsia ; she had had a scant 
 number of admirers and would have liked more, 
 and she was twenty-nine and did not want to be 
 thirty. There were a good many years between her 
 and young Burton, he being only twenty-one, and 
 she had elected herself his keeper and guardian. 
 After she had gone, Mrs. River ston picked up a 
 showy piece of worsted work and busied herself with 
 it while her mind rambled on about the Stanwoods. 
 
 Yes, she thought, it was well to be careful. 
 They, the Riverstons, had a position to be main 
 tained, and it must not be compromised in any way. 
 Clementina s talk had enlightened her on many 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 101 
 
 points. They had done eno^gh^? ^ e Stowoods 
 by going to their party ; now they corld hold aloof. 
 The Stan woods had no poeiSofc , in society ; : tney 
 claimed none, and it was better simply to leave 
 them where they were satisfied to be. The only 
 aspect of the situation which was serious was, pos 
 sibly, from Burton s point of view. If he should 
 be led into mixing up with the anti - slavery fail- 
 business, and be dazzled by that girl s beauty, it 
 would be dreadful ! She must have a serious talk 
 with Burton. Yet she was clever enough to know 
 that talking would not influence Burton, if his head 
 was turned. Why could it not have been turned in 
 another direction? If he had only taken a fancy 
 to Miss Graythorn, or young Desborough s sister! 
 She wondered whether she and Clementina had not 
 been remiss in their attentions to the Graythorns 
 and Desboroughs. Perhaps Mrs. Desborough did 
 not know that her son had been "roped in," as 
 Clementina called it, to this fair business. She 
 would take an occasion and acquaint her with the 
 fact. Suppose she invited the Desboroughs and 
 Graythorns to dinner some night! By doing that 
 several birds might be killed at once. Horace 
 Desborough might be reclaimed and Burton might 
 have his admiration turned into a new channel by 
 either Miss Graythorn or Miss Desborough. Mrs. 
 Riverston thought it all over and decided to write 
 her invitations as soon as she could consult with 
 Clementina. 
 
 So, her thoughts had a great deal to do in one 
 short morning, and she was quite surprised when 
 
102 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 the stopping, of a carriage and a ring at the bell an- 
 noune^d.the, return, of Clementina and the butler 
 appeared to say thai luncheon was served. 
 
 Mrs. Kiverston laid aside her work promptly and 
 went down-stairs. 
 
 "Luncheon is ready," she said, meeting Clem 
 entina in the hall. "Don t go upstairs first. Come 
 into the breakfast-room, I have something to pro 
 pose to you." 
 
 " Look there ! " said Clementina, pointing into the 
 corner behind the front door. 
 
 Squeezed into one end of the pew-bench, in the 
 most uncomfortable position, her head resting 011 
 her arm, over the side, was Elizabeth, with her lit 
 tle brother s head in her lap, his small body filling 
 up the rest of the seat. Both children were fast 
 asleep. 
 
 "It was heartless and inexcusable! Poor little 
 things! " Rachel commented, after the children had 
 had their dinner, answered the questions put to 
 them, and were having a refreshing play in the 
 garden. 
 
 "Don t judge harshly; they meant no unkindness 
 to the children, and only forgot them, that is all," 
 said Mrs. Stanwood. "The important point is 
 their position toward this poor, friendless girl, 
 Tibbie. Mrs. Eiverston writes that they refrain 
 from any interference with our most judicious 
 plans, -Mrs. Stanwood was reading from the 
 note which Mrs. River ston had sent by the children, 
 "and so on. She writes, It would be wrong 
 
MISS MAC CLARE BEGINS A NEW CAREER. 103 
 
 to mislead the girl by allowing her to expect a con 
 tinuance of that interest and protection which she 
 has had under my roof, and therefore, my dear Mrs. 
 Stanwood, we cheerfully defer to your better judg 
 ment and withdraw from any further responsibility 
 as regards Miss MacClare. 
 
 "It isn t worth while to read the rest," Mrs. 
 Stanwood said, putting the note aside, under a paper 
 weight, with a decided little gesture as if she put 
 the writer, also, aside. "She calls it conforming 
 to our decision, but the plain English of it is that 
 they don t want to have anything more to do with 
 the girl. And it is very desirable, for her sake, 
 that they should not. Now help her, Rachel, to dis 
 miss them from her mind. We will give her the 
 chance to begin a new life here. See that she 
 keeps her appointments with Mr. Kreutsohn, and 
 so gets all the benefit possible from the arrangement 
 made this morning." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 GETTING READY. 
 
 EARLY on a raw, cloudy afternoon in the middle 
 of December, a little group of ladies, old and 
 young, met in Nelson Hall to make their first prep 
 arations for the annual anti-slavery fair. 
 
 The hall was a bare, cheerless one, in a building 
 in the neighborhood of Astor Place. It was full of 
 draughts and dust, the globes of the gas-fixtures 
 were smoky and the windows dingy. The ladies 
 were gathered around Mrs. Stan wood, consulting 
 about some difficulties which appeared serious. The 
 fair was to open on Monday, and, as a great con 
 cession, the ladies were allowed to begin the opera 
 tion of cleaning the hall on this afternoon. They 
 were discussing the conditions upon which the priv 
 ilege had been granted. 
 
 "We are to vacate the premises by six o clock, 
 and leave nothing behind us, "said a tall, grim -look 
 ing lady in a Quaker "coal-scuttle " bonnet and long 
 cloak. 
 
 "If we could only leave those things," said Mrs. 
 Morton, pointing to a pile of boards and a heap of 
 roughly made trestles in the lobby, "we could get 
 along very well. William Hedges ordered them 
 to be sent on Second-day, but there was a misun 
 derstanding, and here they are." 
 
GETTING READY. 105 
 
 "They can be left in the anteroom," said Mrs. 
 Stan wood. 
 
 "Oh, no, they can t, Deborah," said the tall lady 
 who had first spoken, and whose name was Tabitha 
 Snow. "The janitor has been asked and has re 
 fused positively. He is no friend to our cause, and 
 is going to do all he can to annoy us." 
 
 "It is pretty early to come to that decision," said 
 Mrs. Stanwood. "I 11 see him." 
 
 "Wait, Debby, wait !" exclaimed Mrs. Morton, 
 intercepting her as she was starting off. "Thee 
 hasn t heard half, thee has only just come, and 
 we have been here some minutes. If we want to 
 use pails or brooms, or anything else, we have got 
 to bring our own. The janitor " 
 
 "Leave him to me and possess your souls with 
 patience," said Mrs. Stanwood, walking briskly out 
 of the room. 
 
 The other ladies hugged their elbows and stood 
 about, irresolute and uncomfortable in the chilliness. 
 
 "I don t see what s to be done," said Miss 
 Snow, or Friend Snow, as she was called. "There 
 isn t any use in staying here to catch cold. Deb 
 orah can t do anything with that man. You ought 
 to have gentlemen on your committee ; who is chair 
 man, and why isn t he here? Rachel Stanwood, I 
 thought thee was to get members for this committee ; 
 why did n t thee put some gentlemen on it? Who 
 is the chairman, and where is he? " 
 
 "I can t tell where he is," Rachel said, and left 
 Mrs. Morton to answer the rest of Friend Snow s 
 questions. 
 
106 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "It will be a real help," whispered Susy Morton 
 to her sister Rebecca, "to have Tabitha Snow 
 round to remind us of our shortcomings." 
 
 "What is she here for, anyway? She isn t on 
 the committee," said Rebecca. 
 
 "That s why," said Susy, her gray eyes snapping. 
 "She hasn t any responsibility and can interfere 
 comfortably. Ray Stanwood, what is thee going to 
 do?" 
 
 Rachel had taken off her bonnet and mantle and 
 was tying on a white apron. 
 
 "The fair is advertised to open on Second-day 
 afternoon, and something has got to be done," she 
 said, pinning a handkerchief, in a three-cornered 
 fold, over her hair. "Suppose we clean all the 
 globes we can reach." In less than two minutes, 
 with aprons and handkerchief-caps, the girls were 
 ready to follow her lead. 
 
 They had come armed with dusting-cloths, and 
 when Mrs. Stanwood returned, were all busy, pre 
 senting a brisk and most attractive appearance. If 
 the Quaker girls dressed in sombre colors and wore 
 no ornaments, they knew, as well as the world s 
 people, what was becoming, and those handker 
 chiefs, with the exception, perhaps, of Susy Mor 
 ton s, were pinned with wonderful skill. Susy had 
 no decorative genius whatever; her cap looked like 
 a Shaker s. 
 
 Mrs. Stanwood had induced the crusty janitor 
 to lend brooms, pails, and a step-ladder, and, in 
 the course of a few minutes, everybody was active, 
 finding possible such an amount of cleaning and 
 polishing as only women could discover. 
 
GETTING EEADY. 107 
 
 It might be supposed that the janitor would wel 
 come such assistance in the performance of his duty, 
 but the object for which the fair was to be held 
 created in him a spirit of opposition, and he was 
 anxious to produce as many difficulties as possible. 
 The people busy at the work which should have 
 been done for them made no complaint. They 
 were accustomed to having their way made rough. 
 If the fair were for a popular cause, it would be 
 smooth enough, but for anti-slavery purposes it was 
 difficult even to hire suitable places, and the pro 
 prietors of such were apt to shirk all other responsi 
 bility than that of receiving prompt and liberal pay 
 ment. Whichever way they turned, the people who 
 engaged in getting up an anti-slavery fair met with 
 obstacles. They fought their way and worked their 
 passage to success. The money which they obtained 
 came from a few, and was spent with the utmost 
 economy. Men worked harder, in order to give 
 more ; women pinched and saved, to make one dollar 
 count for two. 
 
 The girls worked like beavers this afternoon. 
 Eachel Stanwood, particularly, showed skill in tak 
 ing upon herself the part which was heaviest and 
 least agreeable. But she was closely followed up by 
 Susy Morton, whose trim little feet were agile in 
 mounting and jumping off the ladder and benches. 
 
 "There! Good! "she exclaimed, as the janitor 
 began lighting the gas. "Now for the next thing, 
 Ray! What shall it be?" 
 
 The other girls were busy, dusting and polishing 
 about the windows, or pasting autumn leaves on the 
 
108 EACHEL STAN WOOD, 
 
 panes, giving them the effect of stained glass. Ra 
 chel and Susy had just finished cleaning a very dingy 
 chandelier, and had gone out in the lobby to see if 
 they could do anything with the pile of boards and 
 trestles which were to make the tables. 
 
 Susy, with her dress pinned up like a washerwo 
 man s, sleeves rolled up, tumbled hair, and hand 
 kerchief-cap very much askew, looked tireless and 
 blooming. She was leaning with both hands on one 
 of the trestles, looking up at Rachel. She had a 
 pair of dancing gray eyes, a nose which turned up 
 slightly, and a chin with a dimple in it. She had 
 no idea that her hair was tumbled or her cap 
 crooked, or that her arms and hands were pretty 
 and rather grimy. Susy could not help getting 
 tousled and spotty. 
 
 Rachel, as spotless as when she had first donned 
 cap and apron, pointed to a pile of laths and long, 
 smooth sticks. "If Will Hedges would come," she 
 said, "we could start the framework for the tables. 
 He would make the janitor let us leave it here." 
 
 "I know it," said Susy. "But he was afraid he 
 could not get away from his office. I wish Mr. 
 Desborouefh would have an attack of conscience and 
 
 O 
 
 put in an appearance ! He did go to the committee 
 meetings, Ray; may be he s better than we think." 
 "Don t calculate on the chance, Sue," said Ra 
 chel. "He did very well, as chairman, to preside 
 at a meeting where we were only parcelled off into 
 committees and discussed general plans. But he d 
 be awfully in the way here. He hasn t even an 
 inkling of the real work we have to do. Those 
 
GETTING READY. 109 
 
 meetings didn t amount to a row of pins, so far as 
 he was concerned. I tell thee, our own hands are 
 the only ones we are sure of: let s begin the frames 
 ourselves, Sue, we can rig up something." 
 
 She lifted the end of a board to try its weight. 
 "Could we carry this stuff into the room, think? 
 If we got it over near the anteroom, the janitor 
 would be more likely to let us leave it there. Too 
 heavy for thee?" as Susy lifted the other end of the 
 board she still held. 
 
 "Not a bit! Come, it s as dark as a pocket out 
 here," Susy said, leading the way. 
 
 One by one they carried all the boards and trestles 
 to the desired place. 
 
 "Now! " said Rachel, with a sigh of relief, as they 
 laid down the last one. "Can thee help me saw off 
 some pieces to stiffen the joints of the trestles 
 with?" 
 
 "I can t saw, but I can hold the board still while 
 thee does it," said Susy. The difficulty was greater 
 than they had supposed, and Susy called her sister 
 Rebecca to their assistance. Their awkwardness 
 set them to laughing immoderately. One after an 
 other of them tried to saw, but they bungled fear 
 fully. 
 
 " I could do it beautifully, if the saw would only 
 behave itself; what does make it hitch so?" said 
 Rachel, when, with great labor, she had succeeded 
 in sawing off a few pieces. She straightened her 
 self up and wiped the perspiration from her face. 
 
 "Oh, there s a man!" exclaimed Rebecca, as if 
 he were an apparition. 
 
110 RACHEL STAN WOO I). 
 
 "Is it Will? " asked Eachel, her face lighting up. 
 But she gave vent to an "Oh ! " of disappointment, 
 as she recognized Horace Desborough, who was 
 speaking to her mother. 
 
 "It s me Lord Juke!" said Susy. Rebecca 
 clapped the dust from her hands as she said, "He 
 is too high and mighty to join this crowd, he 11 
 go away faster than he came, when he sees what we 
 are at." Then, as Rachel and Susy were preparing 
 to go to work again, she exclaimed in a low, startled 
 tone, "Look at Aunt Debby! She is sending him 
 over here, as sure as you live! Susanna Morton, 
 pull down thy sleeves and unpin thy skirt! Ray 
 Stanwood, drop that saw!" She reached and 
 snatched the cap from her sister s head. Rebecca 
 was a pink of propriety. "Drop it! " she whispered 
 again, but Rachel held on to the saw, even while 
 they exchanged greetings with Mr. Desborough. 
 
 Rebecca made pantomimic signs to Susy to cover 
 her arms, but Susy s tucked-up sleeves meant busi 
 ness, and she deserted the field, running off in 
 search of hammer and nails, without waiting for 
 recognition from the new-comer. 
 
 Horace was stiff and embarrassed. He was sur 
 prised to find the girls occupied as they were. Pie 
 had expected to find Rachel directing others, with 
 that queenly dignity of hers, and he had come to 
 act as her assistant. But to discover the girls act 
 ually grubbing he had seen the saw in opera 
 tion, Hetty Bixby was sweeping, and he mistook 
 Susy at first for a servant was disappointing. 
 He wondered if he could make a courteous excuse 
 
GETTING READY. Ill 
 
 for inability to perform the duties expected of him. 
 He began: "Miss Stan wood, I am sorry," when his 
 eyes met that honest, straightforward look in hers 
 and he perceived, at the same time, that she was 
 very tired. 
 
 "I did not expect you, Mr. Desborough," she 
 said. "You know I warned you to repent in 
 season." Her manner was not welcoming. She 
 was wondering how the work would get on if he 
 were going to stay. She thought he would disdain 
 labor of this kind, even on his own part, and would 
 think it unwomanly for her and the others. 
 
 "But you see I did not repent; I came," he said, 
 and thought how pretty she looked with that odd 
 little cap on. He went on: "You said long ago 
 that it was hard to get gentlemen to help you, and 
 you promised to give me my instructions, now 
 what have you for me to do? " 
 
 "I am afraid I misled you," said Rachel. "You 
 will be scandalized at what we have to do, and " 
 
 Susy, 011 her knees, with a trestle tilted up before 
 her, began hammering with such a noise that it 
 was impossible to go on. Rachel finished in panto 
 mime, holding up the saw and pointing to Rebecca 
 and Susy, herself and the boards. Susy s hammer 
 stopped. The three girls all laughed at Horace s 
 next questions. 
 
 "Where are your workmen? Can I summon 
 anybody?" 
 
 Rachel threw away her desire to conceal the sit 
 uation from him, and decided to submit to the tor 
 ture hardest to bear, ridicule. 
 
112 liACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "There is nobody to summon, Mr. Desborough, " 
 she said, making a little too much of their helpless 
 ness. " We are our own workmen ; Susy Morton 
 and I carried all this lumber from the outer hall 
 here, and I have just succeeded in sawing off those 
 bits. There is nobody else to do our work well, so 
 we are not open to criticism for doing it badly. 
 Come, Becky!" She reached out to grasp the 
 board again, but a firm hand stopped her. Wil 
 liam Hedges, who had approached unobserved, 
 quietly motioned her aside, and in his hand the 
 saw cut through the line ruled upon the board with 
 such crisp quickness that Susy s little ringing laugh 
 was barely ended as the bit dropped on the floor. 
 
 There was a flutter among the girls. "It s 
 Will!" went, like a password, from end to end of 
 the room, and his presence was felt as a refreshing 
 breeze is on a sultry day. 
 
 In a moment the work, which had begun to flag, 
 received new impetus, a gay snatch of song started 
 somewhere, a new atmosphere pervaded the room. 
 
 To Horace Desborough, Kachel s little cry, when 
 Will took the saw from her, sounded like a rescue. 
 He wished that he had been quicker and had caused 
 it himself. He felt chagrined without knowing 
 why. Just before Will Hedges appeared, he had 
 wished for deliverance, but it was not agreeable, 
 somehow, to have it come. He decided now that 
 his offer to help should not be set aside. He ap 
 proached Kachel and said, taking off his gloves, "I 
 am waiting for orders, Miss Stanwood." 
 
 "That s it! That s the idea! " exclaimed Will 
 
GETTING READY. 113 
 
 Hedges, placing a chair for Rachel. "Thee sit 
 here, Rachel, and tell us what to do. That will be 
 thy whole responsibility. Mr. Desborough s idea 
 is capital. Here, Becky, catch! " throwing his hat 
 to her. "Thee take care of that, but don t go 
 away. If I ve got to saw, I can t keep a straight 
 line unless thee looks at me. Now let us have a fair 
 understanding what is expected of Mr. Desborough 
 and me. But first we must see if everybody is at 
 her post." He took a quick survey of the room. 
 "Mattie," to a girl a-tiptoe on the step-ladder, 
 trying to make some leaves stick on a high window 
 pane, "if thee doesn t put those leaves on properly, 
 thee will spoil my eye for color. Annie, give those 
 globes an extra polish ; thee 11 be responsible for 
 everybody s complexion, when the gas is lighted. 
 Friend Snow, keep thy eye on all the girls and 
 superintend generally, until I get round." And so 
 on, he threw little sentences here and there until 
 every one, old and young, felt the touch of his gay 
 spirit. "Where is Miss Desborough?" he asked 
 Horace, suddenly noticing her absence. Horace 
 answered stiffly that she was at home. 
 
 "That is too bad," said Will, upon whom the 
 stiffness was thrown away. " She ought to be here. 
 You must tell her she has lost an opportunity not to 
 be recovered. Make her feel so sorry that nothing 
 will prevent her from coming on Monday morning. 
 Don t let her lose that chance too, we depend 
 upon you, you know." 
 
 But his last sentence was lost in the noise made 
 by Susy Morton s hammer. He looked to see what 
 she was doing. 
 
114 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Stop thy racket a minute, Sue," he said comi 
 cally, "and tell a fellow what that trestle is kickiiio- 
 
 & 
 
 up its legs at thee for. It 11 damage thee in a min 
 ute." 
 
 Susy was too intent to know that he was laughing 
 at her. 
 
 "They re awfully shaky, Will," she said seri 
 ously, "and I" striking sideways at a nail which 
 was going in crooked. "There! Wait till I just 
 hammer in this one, and then I 11 stop." 
 
 With a face red from exertion, her mouth screwed 
 up, and her eyes snapping in time with the hammer, 
 she jerked out between the blows: "I m tighten 
 ing up their j oint s Oh ! " 
 
 She had brought the hammer down upon her 
 thumb. 
 
 "There! I said so! Is it much ?" Will asked 
 with concern. 
 
 "No!" said Susy scornfully, alternately shaking 
 and putting her thumb in her mouth. 
 
 "Permit me," said Horace, possessing himself of 
 her hammer. 
 
 "I can do it in a minute," said Susy, embar 
 rassed and getting up, with some difficulty, from her 
 cramped position. 
 
 "I have no doubt of it," said Horace smiling, 
 "but perhaps you can show me how, uiiless Miss 
 Stanwood has other orders for me." 
 
 "If you will make the trestles strong enough to 
 support these boards, it will help more than any 
 thing, Mr. Desborough," said Rachel, pleased at 
 seeing that he had determined to make himself use 
 ful. 
 
GETTING READY. 115 
 
 He would rather have changed places with Will 
 Hedges, but he set to work. His task would have 
 been more agreeable if he had noticed Susy s quick 
 ness to see what he wanted and her brisk way of 
 supplying him with it, now hauling a, piece of board 
 within his reach, now catching at a rearing trestle 
 to hold it steady, now giving him the saw, or hold 
 ing out her pudgy little hand full of nails. 
 
 But Horace was altogether unconscious of the 
 original and charming little personality of Susy 
 Morton. He was listening to Rachel while she ex 
 plained to Will the contrivances she wanted made 
 for the tables. They were to serve both decorative 
 and useful purposes. Rachel was delighted with 
 some ingenious suggestions of Will s. 
 
 "That will be just the thing; make it that way, 
 Will," Horace heard her say. 
 
 Will pretended to grumble. "That s the way 
 with all of you girls, when /come along," he said; 
 "if I suggest a thing, you all say, Do it! You 
 exact ten times as much of a fellow as he s good 
 for. But no matter! Of course you have got to 
 have what you want. Stand up a minute. There 
 so high? " He held a strip of wood upright and 
 measured how far above her head the thing he was 
 going to make should reach. It was pretty work. 
 Horace would have liked a part in it. It grated 
 upon him to see Rachel s pleasure in whatever her 
 companion did. Horace thought he was himself 
 entitled to a share of her attention. What kind of 
 man was this Mr. Hedges, who had only to show 
 himself to have everybody his subject, as if he were 
 
116 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 a sovereign? He had not been in the room ten 
 minutes before all the girls were buzzing and flutter 
 ing about him, coming and going with questions and 
 consultations, and seeming to catch inspiration from 
 his lightest word. And they all called him "Will," 
 as if he belonged to them. That was a part of the 
 fun of being a Quaker, Horace thought. He won 
 dered why the girls never forgot to give him his 
 title. He had been giving his assistance here and 
 there among them, after propping up the trestles, 
 and it was odd to notice that they invariably called 
 him "Mr. Desborough." Some of them said "thee" 
 to him, but Rachel remembered always to say 
 "you." He did not care to have it otherwise, but 
 he wondered why they did not forget. 
 
 Presently he had what he wanted. Will was 
 called upon to settle a dispute with the janitor, who 
 was getting noisy in his objections to something, 
 and Horace went to join Rachel. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Miss Stanwood? " he 
 asked, laying his hand upon a fanciful rack which 
 Will had been making. She did not seem to hear ; 
 she was w r atching Will. 
 
 "I am afraid you will find me a poor substitute 
 for your friend, Mr. Hedges, but I will do my 
 best," he said, his tone betraying a shadow of an 
 noyance. 
 
 Rachel was looking toward the disturbance at the 
 far end of the room and her eyes deepened with 
 some anxiety. 
 
 " Can I be of service there ? Would you like me 
 to join Mr. Pledges? " Horace asked. 
 
GETTING READY. 117 
 
 Oh, no not for anything!" Rachel answered 
 quickly, frowning at the suggestion. In a moment 
 her brow cleared and she turned to him saying, "It 
 will be all right now. Hetty and Martha wanted 
 to clear that corner out because they are to have 
 their table in it, and the janitor frightened them by 
 interfering and scolding at them, that was all." 
 
 "The impudent rascal! " exclaimed Horace indig 
 nantly. "What does he mean ? " 
 
 "He wants to annoy us all he can, I suppose," 
 said Rachel. "He is holding on, like grim death, 
 to his poor little point of not allowing us to leave 
 anything here until Monday, and Will has gone to 
 deal with him." 
 
 "He ought to be dismissed! I d like to go over 
 there and help, myself, to put him out," said 
 Horace. 
 
 "Oh, then stay here, do!" exclaimed Rachel 
 laughing. "Your method would not work at all." 
 
 "Why not? " asked Horace. "I d have the fel 
 low out of the way and request the proprietors of the 
 place to send you somebody who would obey orders, 
 not give them. As chairman of this committee I 
 might act with some authority, you know. I have 
 not been of much use in any other direction, why 
 can t you let me do you this service?" 
 
 "Because the service would amount to more than 
 you would bargain for," said Rachel, smiling with 
 superior wisdom. "Come!" she said, taking hold 
 of Will s rack, "I shall have to give you something 
 to do, to keep you out of mischief. If you will 
 smooth off these rough edges with your penknife, " 
 
118 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 showing him jagged places Will had left, "you will 
 do us a far better kind of service than you would 
 accomplish by going over there." 
 
 Horace opened his knife and began cutting while 
 he said, bantering, 
 
 "I obey orders, of course, but you seem to have 
 very little faith in me, Miss Stanwood. I should 
 like to know what you think I would accomplish 
 over there." 
 
 "Well, in the first place," said Rachel, gayly 
 reckoning on her fingers, " you could n t dismiss 
 the man any farther than the cellar. He would 
 go there as fast as his feet could carry him and 
 turn off the gas, as he threatened to do a while ago. 
 Next, he would stick to his point of not letting us 
 leave any traps here; next, his employers would 
 probably like him all the better for knowing how to 
 treat us abolitionists. They would take his part, 
 decide that they ought not to have rented us the 
 hall (they did not want to do it, you know), and 
 decline to let us have it for our next convention, as 
 we hope to do. That is, yes, it is all I think of 
 that you could do for us. Sue, can thee think of 
 anything else?" 
 
 "No," said Susy, "not in so short a time; but if 
 Mr. Desborough comes next week" 
 
 She stopped and looked so comically scared that 
 Horace and Rachel laughed outright. 
 
 " Then" said Horace, "there is no knowing what 
 I might accomplish ! I 11 stay away, Miss Mor 
 ton." 
 
 "Oh, how splendid!" Susy cried out suddenly 
 
GETTING READY. 119 
 
 and sprang away, leaving them to break out again 
 with redoubled mirth at her surprising maladroit- 
 ness. She had not heard Mr. Desborough s remark, 
 but had caught sight of something which* showed 
 that the dispute at the further end of the room was 
 settled favorably. 
 
 "There! " said Rachel in a moment, grave again, 
 pointing to the janitor, who was lifting a heavy 
 settee upon his shoulder. "That s what we accom 
 plish by Will s method. He is going to have every 
 thing just as he wants it, and the janitor is going 
 to help, instead of fighting him." 
 
 "He seems to have his way about everything," 
 said Horace. "I wish you would tell me the secret 
 of his power." 
 
 "Nobody can do that," said Rachel, following 
 Will with admiring eyes. "Will could not tell you 
 himself. It is his way, that is all. Everybody 
 wants to do what he asks them to. It is always so. 
 I think," she knitted her brows and seemed to for 
 get to whom she was talking, as she went to analyz 
 ing Will s power. "I think it is because he meets 
 everybody, rich and poor, good and bad, on equal 
 terms. He holds his own with the best, and he 
 treats the worst as if, with their disadvantages, he 
 might be like them. He talked quietly with that 
 man for a while, and then I saw him lift one end 
 of a heavy bench. The man did not move for a 
 minute, and neither did Will. I could not hear a 
 word, of course, and it is too dark to see their faces, 
 but I know, as well as if I had been on the spot to 
 see and hear, that if there is one single atom of the 
 
120 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 gentleman in that janitor, William Hedges brought 
 it out. The man is doing the lion s share of the 
 work now." 
 
 Horace was not looking at either Will or the 
 janitor; he was watching Rachel while she talked. 
 "Is she growing eloquent?" he thought. He did 
 not care for her summary of Will s character. He 
 wanted a little of her attention for himself. Why 
 was it that he could never occupy her thoughts ? So 
 far in their acquaintance, he had never caught more 
 than flashes of interest from her. And he wanted 
 more. She was different from any girl whom he 
 had ever known; he had never felt a girl s character 
 as he felt hers. It was more worth while to try to 
 win her good opinion, and he could scarcely get her 
 attention for a minute. Whenever he did so, she 
 seemed to think and talk about somebody else. He 
 had certainly tried to please her; that was all he 
 was there for. A pain took possession somewhere 
 in his heart, and he was surprised and angry at 
 himself for feeling it. He watched Rachel silently 
 for a few minutes. She was sitting listlessly now, 
 looking fagged, but content. Her eyes were 
 dreamily following Will, upon whom she seemed to 
 have laid all her burdens. She seemed unconscious 
 of Horace, or perhaps indifferent. Horace tried 
 not to care which. He set to remembering his cau 
 tions to Grace about cultivating an intimacy with 
 these people. They were, what his mother called 
 them, "a queer set," with their "thees" and 
 "thys," their "Susys" and "Beckys" and "Het 
 ty s," and apparently useless surnames. He was a 
 
GETTING READY. 121 
 
 fool to have come and was thankful he had kept 
 Grace away. Imagine her on her knees, hammer 
 ing at trestles, or allowing that "Hannah" woman 
 to set her to sweeping up chips in a cloud of dust, 
 as she was making Hetty Somebody do now ! Yes, 
 Horace was glad that Grace was safe at home this 
 afternoon, arid he would do all he could to keep 
 her away from these girls ; she should let them and 
 their fair alone, if he could manage it. He tried 
 to include Rachel in his contempt, but it was impos 
 sible. 
 
 "Hurrah! " cried Susy Morton, as she came run 
 ning, with Annie and Martha Quimby, toward Ra 
 chel. "It is all settled, and we are to leave every 
 thing we choose to carry there, in the anteroom! 
 Take hold, somebody! It s six o clock and we ve 
 got to hurry." She caught up one end of a board, 
 Annie Quimby took the other, and they were tramp 
 ing off with it before Horace could interfere. 
 
 "Don t worry! There are plenty for all of us, 
 and you can join the procession with another, if you 
 like," Rachel called back to him gayly, as she and 
 Martha followed the other girls with a second plank. 
 There was nothing for Horace to do but pick up a 
 third one and carry it by himself. A bevy of young 
 people came to help get all the lumber and fixings 
 stowed away. 
 
 Half the gas suddenly extinguished, warned 
 them that it was time to vacate the premises, and 
 for a few minutes there was running and hurrying, 
 bustling and laughing while the procession of 
 planks disappeared into the anteroom, interfered 
 
122 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 with by Delphina, who careered and bumped into 
 everybody with trestles. The elder ladies went 
 about collecting things in handbags, and returning 
 what they had borrowed to the mollified but impa 
 tient janitor. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GRACE DESBOROUGH. 
 
 WHEN Horace reached home, his sister Grace met 
 him in the hall. Springing out of the parlor, in 
 her soft, pale blue gown, and her daintiness, she 
 was an amazing contrast to the girls whom Horace 
 had seen in Nelson Hall. Horace wanted her to be 
 as different as possible and answered her greeting 
 with unusual warmth. 
 
 "Oh, how late you are!" she said, reaching her 
 face up to him, under the gaslight. 
 
 "Not too late for your welcome, little sister," he 
 said, kissing her. "Take care, dear, I m afraid 
 my coat is dusty. I thought you would be at din 
 ner." 
 
 "Dinner is to be half an hour late, and I am 
 glad," she said, insisting upon helping him off with 
 his coat. "I don t mind the dust, I m too impa 
 tient to hear all about it. You did go, or you d 
 have been at home long ago. Was it fun? Did 
 you help ever so much? " 
 
 "I contrived to do a little," said her brother, 
 taking off his gloves. "Not much, though, com 
 pared with the rest of the crowd." 
 
 "Did you ever see people work so fast, Horace? 
 I feel like a pigmy beside them," she said. 
 
124 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Where have you ever seen them work? " asked 
 Horace in surprise. 
 
 "I went to the fair sewing-circle twice when it 
 met at the Stan woods , don t you remember? I 
 think you were away, though, one of the times, at 
 least," said Grace. "I wanted to go awfully this 
 afternoon, but mamma thought I ought not. She 
 declared I d be out of my element, but I know 
 I would not. I could have helped, couldn t I? 
 Weren t there plenty of things I might have 
 done?" 
 
 "Oh yes, plenty," said her brother with irony. 
 "You could have made any selection you liked from 
 the whole range of occupations suitable for a char 
 woman." 
 
 "I d have liked that," said Grace laughing. 
 "What were they doing? " 
 
 "Yes," said her brother, "you might have grubbed 
 in any direction you liked, or have gone farther 
 and practiced carpentry with that dumpy, round- 
 faced Susy Something-or-other, I forget her 
 name, who tried to hammer her fingers off and 
 whose hands looked like like mine!" He held 
 out his work-stained hands for her to look at. 
 
 "What fun!" said Grace, steadying herself by 
 the banisters and tilting lightly, first on one foot 
 and then on the other. 
 
 "Or you might have reveled in clouds of dust, 
 with a broom, under the direction of fc Hannah, - 
 I don t know her name either, but I know she is 
 responsible for getting me into all this. What is 
 her name, Grace? All the old women looked alike 
 
GRACE DESBOROUG1L 125 
 
 in their uniforms, but I ought to remember Han 
 nah." 
 
 "Oh, Horace! " exclaimed Grace, laughing again, 
 and obtusely slow to perceive the tinge of contempt 
 in his remarks. "The girls all call her Aunt Han 
 nah, and she is perfectly lovely. Rachel is so fond 
 of her. They call Mrs. Stanwood Aunt Debby; 
 isn t that a quaint, pretty name? " 
 
 "I don t like it so well as Tabitha, " Horace 
 said dryly. "There was an old lady named that, 
 who stalked around like a grenadier, I preferred 
 her to any of them, excepting Hannah! Hannah s 
 the one who has charge of me, and I m going to be 
 loyal to Hannah ! You have n t told me who she is." 
 
 "Why, she s Rachel Stanwood s aunt," Grace 
 said, enjoying his affected enthusiasm. "She is as 
 lovely as she can be, too. She says dear, and 
 my child, so sweetly to me that I was just de- 
 lio-hted once when she asked me to call her Aunt 
 
 O 
 
 Hannah, like the others." 
 
 "Well, I hope you had the dignity to refrain 
 from such familiarity, however much you might en 
 joy it! " said Horace. "You, at least, can afford to 
 call her by her title, if she has one ; or are you go 
 ing to turn Quaker, with your unaccountable furor 
 for that Miss Stanwood? " 
 
 Grace burst into a merry laugh as she caught his 
 arm, laid her cheek against it, and stroked him as 
 if he were a do^. "Poor fellow! Poor fellow!" 
 
 O 
 
 she said. "He had a hard time, didn t he? Were 
 you afraid, dear, that Aunt Hannah would begin 
 to call you Horace ? " 
 
126 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "It would not surprise me at all if she did," he 
 said, u but I shall make an effort to preserve a little 
 of my family identity, if I see much of those people. 
 Grace, has that woman a surname, or don t you 
 wish me to know it? " 
 
 "Her name is Morton, and she is your round- 
 faced Susy s mother, Horace; don t you like her 
 better for knowing that? " said his sister. 
 
 "I don t claim any proprietorship in the daughter, 
 and my chief interest in the mother is in getting out 
 of her clutches. I shall withdraw from the position 
 in which she has placed me as soon as possible," 
 said Horace severely. 
 
 "Well! " sighed Grace. "I wish I had been in 
 your place." Then she asked, a little anxiously, 
 hoping that he would recall something agreeable, 
 "Wasn t Rachel beautiful, and didn t she work 
 harder than anybody?" 
 
 "Yes, like a day -laborer, with all the rest of 
 her tribe," Horace said. "I never saw such grub 
 bing and drudging, sawing and wood - chopping 
 among girls who call themselves ladies, in all my 
 life, and I hope I shan t see any more of it! " 
 
 He was trying to feel all that his words said, but 
 he could not. 
 
 Grace resented his last speech. "Now I know 
 that you are bantering, Horace," she exclaimed. 
 "You don t mean one word of that you know you 
 don t. What time are you going on Monday? " 
 
 "I don t think I shall go at all on Monday," he 
 said, starting upstairs. 
 
 Her countenance fell. She backed up against the 
 
GRACE DESBOEOUGH. 127 
 
 door-moulding, with her hands behind her, and asked 
 anxiously: "Won t you go with me? I m going to 
 help dress the tables." 
 
 "Indeed, I hope you 11 do no such thing, Grace," 
 he said, stopping and frowning down at her. "An 
 anti-slavery fair is no place for you at all. Wait 
 and talk it over with me by and by ! I must get 
 ready now for dinner." He went upstairs with his 
 mind in perplexity, the real picture in it at variance 
 with the one he had presented to his sister. He 
 wanted to wipe out the impressions of this afternoon 
 and get back to his original attitude toward the 
 Stan woods. He wanted to feel as he had felt before 
 he went to that evening company at their house. 
 Was that only a month ago ? It did not seem pos 
 sible; that evening was an era in his life. He 
 could, at any time, see, in his mind, Eachel Stan- 
 wood, just as she stood before him when Grace in 
 troduced them. And then, as she turned her face 
 to him with that sudden, glad expression, when she 
 was told that he was chairman of her committee! 
 At those little committee meetings too, how earnest 
 she had been, how ready with suggestions ! What 
 fun it had been to watch her when knotty points 
 were discussed, and then see her face clear again as 
 they were settled ! And how she had spoken up with 
 her ready, "I will see to that," when it was asked 
 how this, that, and the other thing was to be accom 
 plished. George! he had never supposed she was 
 going to put her own hands to the labor, though ! 
 How she had tugged at that sawing business ! Awk 
 wardly enough, but doing what had to be done. 
 
128 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 Yes, she had given him a piece of her character when 
 she would not have any allowance made for her bad 
 work. There was c no one to do it well, so she was 
 doing it badly - that girl could do anything, 
 and there was no possibility of her doing it badly. 
 What a power she was ! And here he was trying 
 to feel as he had done before he had looked into her 
 face and learned all this ! And he had been only 
 just now saying all kinds of disagreeable things 
 which gave a wrong impression of his feeling. He 
 was grateful to his sister for not taking him up on 
 those phrases when he alluded to her "furor for those 
 people," to "that Miss Stanwood" and "all the rest 
 of her tribe" 
 
 Yet at dinner he tried to make a ridiculous story 
 of his afternoon in Nelson Hall. He jested with 
 his father over what he called "a crew of women and 
 girls under a good - natured young captain named 
 Hedges, who was wildly popular and who tore around 
 frantically, repairing their bad carpentry and set 
 tling rows with a grouty Irishman. His wit enter 
 tained the rest of his audience, but, for the first time 
 within his recollection, it was wasted upon Grace. 
 
 His little sister Eloise was particularly interested 
 and amused. She considered Horace a model in all 
 things, and it was a delight to her to catch his spirit 
 of banter and ridicule and to follow in his wake. 
 She had spent the afternoon at dancing-school and 
 was somewhat more airy than usual, both in manner 
 and costume. There was a girl in her class who 
 dressed very elegantly and who had a trick of draw 
 ing herself up and gently rolling her head to one 
 
GRACE DESBOROUGH. 129 
 
 side. Eloise had practiced the pose a little, and 
 adopted it now as a suitable one while she said: 
 "Dear me! nobody at dancing-school would ever 
 dream of calling me anything but 4 Miss Desbor- 
 ough; what would M. De Gaboulet think if ; the 
 Hannah woman 
 
 "Eloise!" exclaimed Grace, shocked, and Mrs. 
 Desborough also called the child to order. 
 
 Eloise was disappointed, and with a little con 
 temptuous sniff, asked to be excused. She did not 
 care about dessert, and went away to carry her pose 
 and her brother s amusing stories to her mother s 
 maid. 
 
 " The little prig ! Who guessed she was so atten 
 tive?" Horace asked, when she had gone, while his 
 father was remarking upon the big ears of little 
 pitchers. 
 
 " She needs the refining polish of dancing-school ; 
 I am glad the lessons have begun," was Mrs. Des- 
 borough s comment. "Only," she added, for 
 Grace s benefit, "we must be most careful about 
 her other associations. Gracie dear, I will say no 
 thing about your friend, Miss Stanwood, but I do 
 hope the intimacy between our family and hers will 
 go no farther. I am sorry to learn that the little 
 Stanwood girl I forget her name goes to Mr. 
 Abbott s school. Why could n t they have sent her 
 somewhere else? Here, the first thing I knew, the 
 other afternoon, she was going to take Eloise to her 
 Aunt Maria s to get her doll s cheeks painted! 
 Eloise wanted to take a doll too for this Aunt 
 Maria to paint! Of course I wouldn t allow it. 
 
130 EACREL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Dear knows who the aunt is, or where she lives, or 
 whether she is black or white! The Stanwoods 
 cook is as black as a coal and they call her Aunt 
 something! I am sorry, Grace, that you have 
 helped to bring Eloise and the Stan wood child to 
 gether. I think, but for your intimacy with the 
 elder sister, Eloise might have selected a different 
 companion at school." 
 
 "The little girl s name is Elizabeth, mamma," 
 said Grace, "and I did not bring her and Eloise to 
 gether ; Mr. Jacob Abbott did it. He is writing 
 some more Franconia stories, and he reads them 
 aloud to the scholars, up in his study, at recess. 
 The girls have delightful times there. Kachel says 
 that the reward which all of them, old and young, 
 value most, is permission to visit Mr. Jacob Abbott 
 in his study. He is so lovely to them that the chil 
 dren follow him upstairs and down, whenever they 
 get a chance. He has proofs of the illustrations 
 of his books, and lets the best-behaved draw lots 
 for them. Elizabeth Stan wood gets a good many, 
 and she gave some to Eloise. She is a nice little 
 girl, mamma, and her Aunt Maria is as pleasant 
 with children as Mr. Jacob Abbott is. The chance 
 to be with her is a privilege for anybody." 
 
 "Have you been to see her, Grace? Are you in 
 timate not only with the Stanwoods, but with all 
 their relatives?" asked Horace. 
 
 Grace answered coldly, "Yes, I have been there, 
 and I hope I may be invited to go again." 
 
 Mrs. Desborough heaved a hopeless little sigh, 
 and looked across the table at her husband. 
 
GRACE DESBOEOUGH. 131 
 
 "What is her name, and where does she live, 
 Grace?" her father asked encouragingly. "Tell us 
 all about it, my child ; it is only fair to give you an 
 opportunity to tell us about your friends." 
 
 "You saw her, papa, at the Stanwoods party," 
 said Grace. "She is Mrs. Lydia Maria Child, and 
 she lives with the old Quaker gentleman and his 
 wife whom you pointed out to me that day I went 
 down-town with you, the old gentleman in gray 
 short-clothes, with silver buckles. I saw him again 
 the day I went to Mrs. Child s room with Rachel. 
 You said he looked like Bonaparte, but his face 
 is a thousand times nobler; don t you think so, 
 papa?" 
 
 "Well, yes, I must say I do, Gracie," said her 
 father. "I 11 have to own up to that and to the 
 sweetness of his wife s face, under her sugar-scoop 
 bonnet." He smiled, with a pleasant recollection, 
 as he explained across the table to his wife: "Their 
 name is Holly and they are a quaint-looking old 
 couple, my dear. I have often heard them called 
 Father and Mother Holly." 
 
 "Mrs. Child calls them so, but Rachel says only 
 Friend when she speaks of them," Grace said. 
 
 " Well, - you were going to tell us about Mrs. 
 Child," said Mrs. Desborough, with an expression 
 as if she were not going to approve of Mrs. Child if 
 she could help it. "We remember very well what 
 she looks like ; tell us what sort of person she is, 
 and how she lives. If you are going to visit there, 
 I should like to know." 
 
 "Oh, mamma!" said Grace appealingly, "she is 
 
132 EACH EL STAN WOOD. 
 
 as lovely as she can be. The house is on 
 
 Street, near the Bowery, and her room" 
 
 "Is a bower, of course," said Horace laughing. 
 "The mention of it suggests a popular song of in 
 vitation to young ladies who live on the Bowery to 
 come out and dance by the light of the moon. 
 You see, mamma dear, that the house is situated in 
 a romantic part of the city." 
 
 " Oh, Horace, what a tease you can be when you 
 try," said Grace, declining the fruit which her 
 brother offered. The watfer had been dismissed 
 and they were lingering over the fruit and coffee. 
 
 "Excuse me, little girl," said Horace courteously. 
 "It was rather too bad of me, I confess, and if you 
 will go on, I 11 promise not to interrupt you again. 
 1 would really like to know what the house of a 
 genuine Quaker looks like inside. The Stanwoods 
 are only demi-semi-Quakers, you know." 
 
 Grace was quiet for a moment or so. It was a 
 little hard for her, in an atmosphere of criticism, to 
 talk about people who had inspired her with rever 
 ence. She would rather have changed the subject, 
 or better still, have remained quiet. But she felt 
 on the defense of her friends, and had a great long 
 ing to make her father, at least, understand; so, 
 when she was asked again about the house, she 
 said : 
 
 "It is the most peaceful, quiet one I was ever in, 
 that is all. It is so quiet that you can hear the 
 parlor clock tick, as soon as the front door is closed. 
 There is nothing else about it except that everything 
 is as spotless and pure as the white kerchief the old 
 
GEACE DESBOROUGH. 133 
 
 Quaker lady wears crossed upon her bosom. There 
 are a very few engravings on the walls, and I think 
 the only things in the house in the way of ornaments 
 are the buckles on the old gentleman s shoes. Don t 
 laugh, Horace ; you would not change a thing there, 
 if you could. Then you go upstairs and step into 
 Mrs. Child s parlor and it is as different as it can 
 be. You know her stories are full of children? 
 She loves children so much that she has her parlor 
 full of pictures and images of them. There is a 
 large engraving of the Sistine Madonna over the 
 piano, and the walls are covered with pictures of 
 cherubs and angels. There are Raphael s children, 
 Murillo s children, Sir Joshua Reynolds s children, 
 everybody s children. And in one corner there is 
 an oil painting of a dirty-faced little beggar, laugh 
 ing. It is life size, and laughs so that you have to 
 laugh back when you look at it. Then there are 
 images and statuettes of children. Mrs. Child tells 
 the children who visit her stories about them just as 
 if they were alive. Rachel says the room is like 
 Paradise to her little brother and sister, and that, 
 when they are cross, she and her mother like to 
 send them there." 
 
 "Pleasant for Mrs. Child! " remarked Horace. 
 
 "Yes, it is pleasant for her," said Grace, with 
 some spirit. "Nothing pleases her more than 
 changing an unhappy child into a happy one. I 
 forgot to say that there is a row of prisms hung in 
 one of the windows, and the sun, shining through 
 them, makes the colors dance so that one day lit 
 tle Dick Stanwood cried out, as soon as the door 
 
134 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 was opened, Hullo! I ve climbed into the rain 
 bow! " 
 
 "A very pretty account, Grace, very pretty in 
 deed!" said her father. "But you must not give 
 Mrs. Child all the glory. I fancy if any cross- 
 grained children should meet the old gentleman with 
 the silver buckles, on the way upstairs, their ill tem 
 per would stand a poor chance of lasting until they 
 reached her room." 
 
 "Better reconsider, mamma, and allow Eloise to 
 go there as often as she gets invited," said Horace. 
 
 "No, I think not," replied Mrs. Desborough. 
 "Grace s story is very pretty, as your father says, 
 and I have no doubt that the influence of the people 
 over children is charming, but," with her chin punc 
 tuating a comma, "there are considerations not to 
 be overlooked. If we could confine ourselves to the 
 simple personality of the people, it would do very 
 well, but that cannot be. If we accepted their 
 ideas upon one subject, we should find ourselves tak 
 ing them on others, and that would be dangerous." 
 
 "You mentioned a piano in Mrs. Child s parlor, 
 Grace," said her brother. "I thought Quakers ob 
 jected to music and never allowed musical instru 
 ments in their houses." 
 
 "I asked Rachel about that," answered Grace, 
 "and she says that whatever their own principles 
 are in such matters, they never interfere with those 
 of others. Ole Bull s violin was on the piano. He 
 often plays there, and Friend Holly does n t object 
 at all. On the contrary, he likes to hear it once in 
 a while. Once when he went up to Mrs. Child s 
 
GRACE DESBOROUGH. 135 
 
 parlor, Ole Bull was there, just taking the violin 
 out of its case, and Friend Holly said to him : " Ole, 
 if thee will play that banjo, give us St. Patrick s 
 Day in the Morning. 
 
 "Oho!" exclaimed Horace. "Then his princi 
 ples do not forbid him to enjoy music, when he 
 gets a chance." 
 
 Grace was not accustomed to talk at length upon 
 any subject, but she felt that she must correct the 
 impression that her story had made, so she said ear 
 nestly, "You don t understand, Horace. He does 
 not object to music in itself he objects to its being 
 indulged in as a vanity and extravagance. That is 
 the Quaker principle, Rachel says. For instance," 
 holding up a protesting hand to ward off another 
 interruption, " they think music in churches ought 
 to be freely offered. To them, as it is given by a 
 paid choir, it is like a performance, but " 
 
 A laugh from her father and brother interrupted 
 her, and Mrs. Desborough rising, they all proceeded 
 to the parlor. 
 
 "And / think," said Mrs. Desborough, waiting 
 until the laugh ceased, that she might be impressive, 
 "that such views are dangerous. It is just as I 
 said, you cannot get the good ideas of those 
 Quakers and abolitionists without having to take the 
 bad ones too. Grace, are you beginning to have 
 doubts about your church service? If I thought 
 your friends were leading you to that " sinking 
 into an arm-chair. 
 
 "Oh no, no, mamma!" cried Grace distressed. 
 " They never try to lead me away from what I be- 
 
136 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 lieve ! Does not the fact that Mrs. Child has her 
 piano in that house show you how they leave others 
 to stand by their principles as firmly as they hold to 
 their own? " 
 
 " There is a great difference, Grace, between that 
 lady and you," said her mother, growing more ear 
 nest as she went on. " She is old enough to take 
 care of herself, but you are not. They may not, 
 any of them, preach or try to influence you in any 
 way whatever, but, if you are going to persist in as 
 sociating with them, you 11 be where they are before 
 you know it yourself! You have had now, since 
 you have been acquainted with the Stanwoods, more 
 more new notions in your brain than you ever 
 had disturb you before in your whole life. I don t 
 understand it. Why can t you take those people as 
 you take your other friends? Why can t you imi 
 tate the old gentleman whom you admire so much, 
 and let the Stanwoods and all of them go their 
 ways, while you go yours?" 
 
 "Oh, mamma!" cried Grace, "don t talk so 
 about them ! It hurts me. They are so noble, so 
 good! There is a reason why I can t, and I want 
 you " She spoke with a piteous accent, feeling, 
 in what she knew she was going to say now, the 
 weight of displeasure drawing nearer. 
 
 "Well, dear?" asked her mother, her tone, in its 
 anxiety, almost as piteous as her daughter s. "Why 
 can t you lead your own life and leave theirs 
 alone?" 
 
 Grace covered her face with her hands as her fa 
 ther put his arm around her and drew her to him, 
 asking gently, "Why, Gracie?" 
 
GRACE DESBOROUGH. 137 
 
 "Because," said Grace, raising her head and let 
 ting her hands fall, " Because I want to live as they 
 do!" 
 
 There was a moment s silence while she was con 
 trolling her emotion. Then her father reached for 
 her hand and lifted it while he asked gently again, 
 " Why, Gracie ? Tell us why you want to live like 
 those people." 
 
 "Because they live more in a single day than 
 other people live in a month," she said. "They 
 make me feel as no one else ever did. After I 
 have been among them I feel as if I was worth more 
 
 O 
 
 than I ever found out before. I want to use all the 
 power I ve got, just as well as I can, and to help 
 others, out in the world, with it. They make me 
 feel like trying not to waste a bit of it. And I 
 want to use it for the ones who need it most, I 
 want to use it for the slaves! " 
 
 She leaned her head against her father and could 
 not say any more. He stroked her hair, not know 
 ing what to say, and looked beyond her to his wife s 
 face, which was turned to him appealingly. Hor 
 ace, in the doorway, heard all that his sister said, 
 and his eyes were bent upon her. He had started 
 to go to the library, where his father and he usually 
 had a smoke together after dinner, but his ear 
 caught Grace s tone and words and he stopped to 
 listen. He had been covering up his feelings, try 
 ing to hide them even from himself, in his talk at 
 dinner. But in every word Grace spoke she was 
 revealing her heart. 
 
 "Well, well!" said Mr. Desborough, in a cheer- 
 
138 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ful tone, after a moment, " There is no harm in all 
 that. The person who makes us wish to do our 
 best in the world is a right sort of friend to have. 
 Your mother and I don t wish you to give up Miss 
 Stanwood, not a bit of it! I shan t like her, 
 though, if she makes you unhappy, little girl, be 
 sure of that! She must put bright thoughts and 
 not dreary ones into this little head ! " 
 
 " Of course ! It is only your happiness we think 
 of, dear," said her mother, eagerly, and believing 
 that she was pouring balm on her daughter s soul. 
 "All we wish to do is to help you to be cautious be 
 fore it is too late. We want you to enjoy these 
 friends of yours all you can, reasonably. Only we 
 hope you won t give too much time to them in 
 preference to others, or identify yourself with their 
 particular hobbies. You want to go to this fair, 
 for instance. Now, if you would sacrifice that little 
 pleasure, it would be wise and good of you and 
 would please us very much. You know we don t 
 approve of slavery, any more than the Stanwoods 
 and those other people do. It is a cruel wrong, 
 every way, and no people would be more glad than 
 we should be if it did not exist. But it does exist, 
 and if our country suffers from it, why, we must 
 suffer with our country! " Mrs. Desborough s chin 
 here punctuated a full period. She was delighted 
 with her eloquence and thought she was setting 
 things before her daughter in the fairest and most 
 persuasive way possible. The idea of suffering with 
 her country pleased her particularly, and she re 
 peated it, period and all. "We must suffer with 
 
GRACE DESBOROUGH. 139 
 
 our country and be patient. To take the course 
 which abolitionists would recommend would result 
 in in" She was not clear as to what course 
 the abolitionists would propose, or its effect, and 
 halted. Her husband came to her rescue and said, 
 "It would result in anarchy and disruption, of 
 course." Then he went on to offer to Grace the 
 comfort which seemed to him most likely to soothe 
 and cheer her. 
 
 "We should be glad to see the curse removed, 
 Gracie, but we think it can be done best by a grad 
 ual and temporizing process. We do not approve 
 of aggressive measures, like public fairs. I don t 
 mind your giving a little money to Miss Stanwood, 
 to use according to her discretion, but if you go to 
 the fair and take any active part in it, why, don t 
 you see, you will be identifying yourself with its 
 projectors, and our friends will identify you as an 
 abolitionist! Don t you see this, my child? " 
 
 With his hands on her shoulders, he was looking 
 down at her, but he could not know what was be 
 hind her quiet gaze. She stepped back a little and 
 clasped her hands together. "Yes, papa, I see it, 
 and I cannot help it," she said in an unsteady voice, 
 but keeping her eyes upon his face. " I have been 
 thinking, and praying for help to think rightly 
 about it, and I know what I believe. And I think 
 I ought not to hide it. I am not important in any 
 way, but that does n t make any difference. I 
 want to stand by Rachel Stanwood and let every 
 body know that I too am an abolitionist, like her. 
 I am sorry " her voice was breaking pitifully, 
 
140 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 " sorry to think what you, and mamma, and Horace 
 don t want me to, but but" She waited, and 
 then began again. "It is not enough only to be 
 lieve that slavery is wicked. Giving your money 
 would not be enough. I must give myself, papa ! 
 Nothing else will do, nothing else will do ! " 
 
 She threw herself upon his breast and her voice 
 broke into sobs. Across her golden hair he and his 
 wife were looking at each other again in sore per 
 plexity. 
 
 Horace, too, carried a troubled face upstairs. 
 He had heard all, but he had no help to offer on 
 either side, and he went, unobserved, up into the 
 library to think it out over a cigar. 
 
 So a new complication had come into the Des- 
 borough family. Quiet, gentle Grace who had 
 always done just as she was told, had never opposed 
 anybody or anything, but had patiently and dili 
 gently traveled along the path which was pointed 
 out for her; who had left school, joined classes, 
 studied music and flower-painting, "come out" in 
 society, all just as she was bidden, and had followed 
 her mother into church and out again, regularly, 
 without ever intimating an independent thought or 
 wish of any consequence, Grace now, at last, had 
 a conviction and a conscience to back it up, and 
 they were going to force her to act in opposition to 
 all her family ! 
 
 It was a great annoyance ! There were long talks 
 and discussions about it between Mr. and Mrs. 
 Desborough and Horace. Mrs. Desborough com- 
 
GRACE DESBOROUGIL 141 
 
 plained and, again and again, marveled at the sud 
 denness and mystery of it. "Why!" she said, 
 in amazement, "she and I have been everywhere 
 together! We have scarcely been separated! Ex 
 cepting to two meetings of that fair sewing-circle, 
 and occasionally to a few places with Miss Stan- 
 wood, the child has been nowhere without me, not 
 even to church!" 
 
 " Excepting !" said Horace, in an undertone. 
 "In that word lies all the mischief! " But he spoke 
 rather to himself. His mother went on, 
 
 "Yes, we have knelt together in the same church, 
 and I thought we were saying together the same 
 prayers, and now look at this ! " 
 
 She could not get over it. The idea that Grace 
 could even commune with the Lord without consult 
 ing her was unaccountable. She did not agree 
 with her husband in thinking that they had better 
 not oppose Grace s going to the fair. She thought 
 the girl ought to be kept removed as far as possible 
 from the influences which had led her so astray. 
 She expressed her opinion to Horace, and he sus 
 tained her in it as strongly as he could. He worked 
 himself up to greater earnestness because his argu 
 ments were directed to himself. He uttered the fam 
 ily sentiments and was loyal to the family prejudices. 
 He urged his father to use the simple means within 
 his power to keep Grace from going to the fair. 
 
 But his father was a diplomatist and knew that 
 he could not strengthen Grace in her convictions in 
 a surer way than by interfering with the liberty of 
 action to which her years entitled her. 
 
142 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 So the conversations ended by his saying that 
 Grace must be allowed to attend the fair and to get 
 all the satisfaction she wanted to from it. 
 
 "Treat the whole subject as a matter of temporary 
 interest," he said, "and it will blow over. Make 
 a serious business of it and you bind Grace over, 
 heart and soul, to her abolitionism." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIR. 
 
 THE rain fell in torrents on Monday. It beat 
 upon the window panes of Nelson Hall and seemed 
 to jeer in the very face of the gay autumn leaves 
 pasted upon them. The printed placard, which 
 was to announce the fair so boldly on the sidewalk, 
 had to stand inside of the entrance, and the trian 
 gular transparency jutting out between two of the 
 front windows had all the heralding to do alone. 
 Its cotton sides looked as if they were not going to 
 hold out against the buffeting of the storm. When 
 the first group of ladies arrived, the prospect was 
 dismal. The janitor appeared surprised even to see 
 them, professing to take for granted the necessity of 
 postponing the occasion altogether. Some of the 
 ladies seemed to think this course would be wise. 
 
 "What is the use of everybody s taking cold for 
 nothing?" Friend Snow asked, folding her long 
 cloak around her more closely. 
 
 Even Mrs. Morton considered the advisability of 
 countermanding the order for ice-cream. "We 
 shall certainly want so little to-day," she said, "that 
 we can do without any ; coffee and chocolate will do 
 instead." 
 
 Mrs. Morton and Friend Snow had come together 
 
144 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 in a hack, with a load of parcels and the parapher 
 nalia for making tea, coffee, and chocolate. Some 
 other ladies had also arrived and were prodding 
 the janitor to turn on the heat and to sell them at 
 double price sufficient coal to supply the stove upon 
 which the cooking was to be done. 
 
 Friend Snow, standing gloomily at the door, took 
 a survey of the comfortless hall and said, "It looks 
 about as much like having a funeral as a fair! " 
 
 "Oh, no!" said a bright voice behind her, and 
 Mrs. Stan wood, out of breath from hurrying up the 
 stairs, brought the first cheerful atmosphere into the 
 room. Instantly she was the centre against which 
 were hurled all the doubts which had arisen : 
 
 "Is it worth while to arrange the tables?" 
 "Hadn t the refreshments better be kept until to 
 morrow?" "Why let things be unpacked only to 
 get shabby and finger-marked?" "Not a soul 
 will come!" And Friend Snow, shivering, said, 
 "We 11 catch our deaths! " 
 
 Mrs. Stan wood recovered her breath. "Tabitha 
 Snow," she said, "if thee has set thy heart on a 
 funeral, go look out of the front windows, and one 
 will pass in the course of time; we can t have one 
 here, it s not convenient ! " 
 
 Then she untied her bonnet, saying to the others 
 with decision: "We ll open the fair to-day at three 
 o clock, the hour fixed upon. Suppose it does rain? 
 What then? Let it! That is a thing for which 
 we are not responsible. What the weather does 
 is none of our business. Get the tables ready, 
 that s our work." 
 
THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIR. 145 
 
 "Of course," said Friend Snow, "we all know 
 what thee would say, but" 
 
 "Hark!" said Mrs. Norris, a tall, fresh-looking 
 Quaker lady who had taken off her bonnet and cloak 
 and was already prepared for work. She had her 
 hands on a table to place it in position. "It does 
 n t sound funereal, Tabitha, but listen! " she said. 
 
 There was a lull in the noise of the street, as a 
 heavy omnibus stopped under the windows, and a 
 chorus of young voices was heard out in the storm, 
 singing lustily, 
 
 " Ho ! the car Emancipation 
 Rides triumphant through the Nation." 
 
 "It is William Hedges and Joseph Norris, with 
 all the girls in an omnibus," said Mrs. Quimby, 
 from the window. " The boys have been riding on 
 top, with the evergreens and the driver. They must 
 be drenched through to the bones! " 
 
 " E-e-mancipation 
 Rides triumphant through the Nation," 
 
 sounded again on its way up the stairs, and, in a 
 moment, a dozen young girls came singing and 
 laughing into the room, laden to their chins with 
 parcels of all shapes and sizes. As the older ladies 
 met them and helped with their parcels, the song 
 broke to pieces in a medley of chattering voices 
 which were accounting for their coming in such a 
 gay and unlooked-for manner. When the fragments 
 of explanations were patched together it made a 
 droll story of how, the evening before, every girl 
 had received a secret command to wait at home, in 
 
146 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 the morning, until called for ; how they did not know 
 what to make of the message, until the stage had 
 "picked them all up, bag and baggage." "On 
 receipt of the last girl called for, William Hedges 
 had started the song through the money-hole in the 
 coach roof." "Oh, of course it was Will who 
 started it all. He invented, and Jo Norris and Ned 
 Quimby abetted." 
 
 The tale was barely told when the young fellows 
 appeared, carrying so much evergreen that they 
 looked as if they might have come from Dunsinane. 
 Will s load deposited, he hurried out again to bring 
 in some boxes for Grace Desborough, who had 
 driven up in her carriage just as the omnibus was 
 emptied. 
 
 "Gracie! " exclaimed Eachel, full of joy at sight 
 of her friend. "Is this another of thy surprises, 
 Will? Was her coming preconcerted, too?" 
 
 "No, that was inspiration; to make up for the 
 weather and put it to shame," said Will gayly. 
 "Susy Morton, take my hat off for me, please. 
 Thank thee ! Now, where shall these boxes go, Miss 
 Desborough?" 
 
 Grace passed the question to Rachel, who gave a 
 little scream of delight as Will set the boxes down 
 upon a table, and Grace lifted the lids, discovering 
 treasures of hot-house flowers. "Oh! Oh! Girls, 
 come and look!" cried Rachel, and the girls bent 
 their heads over the boxes, sniffed and "Oh"-ed in 
 chorus. 
 
 In a few minutes the commotion of getting to 
 work began. Boards and trestles were converted 
 
THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIR. 147 
 
 into tables and speedily concealed under white 
 muslin; racks and frameworks were fastened up, 
 and the stacks of evergreen disposed of to advan 
 tage. Ugly gas-jets, unsightly stains or defects 
 were hidden under branches of bitter-sweet, holly, 
 and evergreen, which had been, much of it, gathered 
 by the young men in places out of the city, Staten 
 Island, or the Jersey shore. It was not so easy 
 then, as it is now, to buy it at market or on the 
 street corners, by the yard or bushel; young men 
 tramped for it and girls wove and tied it into gar 
 lands themselves. 
 
 By the appointed hour the fair was open. The 
 tables were laden with treasures, and the girls, with 
 their mysterious skill, had concealed all traces of 
 labor, disorder, and confusion, exchanged working 
 aprons for dainty fresh ones, and were ready for 
 customers. They were, most of them, dressed in 
 the quiet grays, fawn colors, and browns which 
 Quakers loved, and looked very attractive in the gay 
 setting of display and decorations. Many of the 
 things offered for sale seem now among the lost arts. 
 Fingers, not sewing-machines, had done the work 
 upon them. The almost invisible stitches on those 
 home-made aprons, little baby-dresses and garments, 
 needle-books and pincushions, purses, card-cases, 
 and work-basket furnishings of bronze morocco and 
 dove - colored chamois skin ; the delicate - colored, 
 hand-knitted "nubias," and those little, three-cor 
 nered "rigolettes," so exquisite in their daintiness 
 and so becoming, could only be found at an anti- 
 slavery fair. 
 
148 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 The very toys there were dainty. The dolls were 
 dressed with simple taste, in clothes which could 
 bear the closest inspection, and which set the high 
 est standard of neatness for the fortunate children 
 who were to possess them. The French doll, with 
 its prettier face and its furbelows, had not been 
 imported then, and children were not tied, like bon 
 bons, in big sashes and worked up into decorations. 
 
 Never was a creature happier than Grace Desbor- 
 ough. Her face was radiant, and the work of her 
 hands like magic. She had charge of the flower 
 table, which was in the centre of the room and built 
 like a bower. Her flowers were unpacked, grouped 
 in vases or wet moss, or hung in globes and baskets 
 among the evergreens, long before the dressing of 
 the other tables was completed. Mrs. Child, com 
 ing to bring some contributions for one of the tables, 
 smiled to herself as she watched Grace s sunny head 
 appear and disappear under the little arches, and 
 said to Friend Snow, " She reminds me of Correg- 
 gio s medallions." But she had her simile to her 
 self, for Friend Snow had never heard of Correggio 
 or his medallions, and considered Grace s bower 
 worldly and a vanity. 
 
 The rain continued to fall without cessation and 
 rattled all day against the window-panes, but inside 
 the hall the aspect of things was bright. Anti- 
 slavery people, accustomed to bufferings and storms, 
 were not easily daunted. Better than any other 
 people they knew how to stand by one another, and 
 the darker the sky grew outside the brighter their 
 spirits seemed to become. 
 
TEE FIEST DAY AT THE FAIR. 149 
 
 The girls were ready to sell their wares long be 
 fore there were any customers to buy. But they 
 resorted to many devices in order to keep up their 
 cheerfulness, and gathered their first profits from 
 one another. Purchasers came straggling along in 
 small groups, but at no time during the afternoon 
 or evening was the room full enough to have any 
 thing like a general aspect of activity. They were 
 the friends of the cause, the workers and ardent 
 ones, who braved the storm and gave their patron 
 age to the fair on that first day. Excepting at the 
 refreshment tables, upon the resources of which 
 everybody depended for meals, Grace, in her bower, 
 had the best market for her flowers. She was 
 pointed out as a new recruit and was, unconsciously, 
 an object of much interest. Curious eyes and 
 kindly looks were turned upon her, and those who 
 bought her flowers often asked to be introduced to 
 her. She recognized a number whom she had seen 
 at the Stan woods party, and learned a good deal 
 about them from the girls who left their own tables 
 sometimes to sit with her. 
 
 Her most extravagant customer was Mr. Burton 
 River ston, who bought her handsomest flowers for 
 Rachel. Ned Quimby, Jo Norris, and some of the 
 other young Quakers came for little bouquets, which 
 they carried off to different girls, and Will Hedges 
 came for a bunch of violets. He was going away 
 with them just as Horace appeared, early in the 
 evening. 
 
 Grace invited her brother to a seat inside of her 
 bower, but he declined it, saying, "Thank you, I 
 
150 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 am not ready yet to be framed for exhibition." 
 Grace laughed and said nobody would notice him 
 among the shadows of the evergreens. 
 
 He did not hear her, because he was watching to 
 see if Mr. Hedges was going to present his violets 
 to Rachel. 
 
 "Stupid jackass! " he said, as Will gave them to 
 Friend Snow, who was sitting dismally alone be 
 hind one of the refreshment tables. Grace noticed 
 the act also and flushed with pleasure as she saw 
 the old lady s grim face light up. 
 
 "She s the grenadier, Tabitha," said Horace, 
 idly leaning on the counter. "Has she got any 
 other name?" 
 
 "They call her Friend Snow, " said Grace, eager 
 to interest him, leaning forward under one of her 
 little arches. "She preaches, I believe, and Oh, 
 there is Miss Frederika Bremer, going to speak to 
 Mr. Hedges. How little she looks beside him! 
 Don t you remember seeing her at the Stan woods ? 
 I like to watch her; she looks so like Cinderella s 
 godmother, in that cap of rich old lace ! She ought 
 to have a wand in her hand, and then she d be per 
 fect. If you could see what beautiful little hands 
 she has, you would believe they really had fairy 
 power of some kind." 
 
 "Well, have n t they ? Don t they write wonder 
 ful stories?" Horace asked, watching Miss Bremer 
 as she was looking up into Will Hedges face and 
 laughing merrily. "A good story is worth more 
 than a pumpkin chariot, any day." 
 
 "Of course it is," said Grace, pleased with the 
 
THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIR. 151 
 
 thought and glad that Horace seemed satisfied with 
 one person, at least. "Oh, don t go! She is tak 
 ing Mr. Hedges arm and they are coming this 
 way. Would n t you like to be introduced to her, 
 Horace? " 
 
 "I will leave Mr. Hedges undisturbed posses 
 sion; he seems partial to old ladies," he said. But 
 he was a moment too late. Will was shaking hands 
 with him and presenting him to Miss Bremer while 
 a pleasant voice at his back was saying to Grace, 
 "We would each like a bunch of these red berries." 
 Horace moved to give place to two middle-aged 
 ladies in big bonnets under the capes of which was 
 visible their short, silver hair. It was straight and 
 stiff on the head of the shorter lady and concealed 
 in front by a heavy cap-frill. The other lady wore 
 no cap ; her hair was wavy over the temples, and at 
 the back in rings which would be curls if allowed to 
 grow long enough. If, instead of the scant, angular 
 style of her clothes, she had been dressed in some 
 simple fashion of the day, she would have shown for 
 what she was, a fine-looking woman. 
 
 Miss Bremer turned quickly to greet the two la 
 dies with enthusiasm, and Horace was drawn into 
 further introductions to Miss Marcia and Miss Eve 
 lina Saunders. They had been at the fair all the 
 afternoon, and in half an hour s conversation which 
 Grace had had with them, she had discovered so 
 much benevolence and gracious gentleness that she 
 had forgotten the oddity of their appearance. Now, 
 somehow, she longed to put herself between them 
 and her brother, and protect them from his criticism 
 
152 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 which, however concealed from observation, she 
 knew was inevitable. But they lingered over their 
 purchases, and in the meagrely filled room they were 
 in bold relief as they walked away. 
 
 Grace staved off a comment from Horace by lean 
 ing out of her leafy frame to whisper anxiously, 
 "Did you see their faces, Horace? One of them 
 has such pretty eyes. And listen, they used to 
 be wealthy. They lived in the South and had 
 slaves, but they set them free. They made them 
 selves poor by giving liberty to their slaves. 
 Wasn t it noble and beautiful of them? " 
 
 "It would be equally noble if they did not look 
 as if they came out of the ark. Here comes an 
 other! Grace, I m going; your table attracts too 
 many ark-angels ! " 
 
 He walked away in the direction of Rachel s 
 table, which seemed a centre of attraction. He 
 leaned against a pillar near it and waited for her 
 customers to get through with their purchases and 
 leave her. He was surprised to see Burton River- 
 ston hovering around the table and seizing oppor 
 tunities to alight in the openings. 
 
 "H lo, old fellow!" said Riverston presently, 
 perceiving him. "What are you doing here? " 
 
 "Studying humanity and wishing I was a stage 
 manager," said Horace. "What are you after? " 
 
 "Well, if you want to know," said Riverston, 
 backing up against Horace s pillar and turning his 
 head so as to speak confidentially, "I m after Miss 
 Stanwood. Isn t she a stunner? Look at her, - 
 she s recognizing somebody she likes. Ever see a 
 
THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIE. 153 
 
 face light up like that? Wonder who got the bene 
 fit ? There is n t a woman in New York with a head 
 set on her shoulders so finely, or with such a head. 
 I ve been trying to get one of the things she made 
 herself, but she won t sell me what I want. Here s 
 a chance! Come and help a fellow! " 
 
 The two went up to the counter. Kachel smiled 
 and held out her hand to Horace, across the table. 
 
 "I was surprised to see Grace, after all the 
 scruples you have shown, Mr. Desborough," she 
 said gayly. "Considering your prejudices, you are 
 very good to lend her to us." 
 
 "I am afraid she is overdoing the business, Miss 
 Stanwood," said Horace, "and that my prejudices 
 would have prevented her from coming, had they 
 been as influential as you seem to think." 
 
 "I am glad if they are less so," she said, looking 
 a little disappointed, "but I am sorry to have to 
 withdraw the credit I had given you. You are not 
 responsible, then, for Grace s coming? And we 
 mustn t be a bit indebted to you?" 
 
 "No, Miss Stanwood," said Horace, wishing she 
 would not ask such questions, throwing him at once 
 upon his honesty, and forcing him to remind her of 
 what she disapproved in him. She seemed to wait 
 for him to say more, and he gave her the whole truth : 
 "My sister is here on her own responsibility, and 
 against the wishes of her family, who have yielded 
 their prejudices, if you call them so to hers. 
 I am here simply as her escort, that is all." 
 
 "And after such an outrageously ungallant con 
 fession, you must not sell him a copper s worth!" 
 
154 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 exclaimed Mr. Kiverston, quite willing that Horace 
 should appear in an unfavorable light. 
 
 Horace protested and claimed the right of a pur 
 chaser. A contest followed between the young men 
 to obtain possession of some bit of Rachel s handi 
 work, but it ended in their defeat and the discovery 
 that the last piece had been sold. 
 
 Susy Morton, who enjoyed the contest hugely, 
 pointed to the little figure of Miss Marcia Saunders, 
 who was walking away with Mr. Stan wood, and, 
 after informing the young gentlemen that the last 
 piece of Miss Stan wood s work was sold, added mis 
 chievously, - 
 
 "There it goes, in that lady s satchel." 
 Riverston made a dive after the lady and boldly 
 asked Mr. Stanwood to introduce him to her. Ra 
 chel heard Horace say, "Mrs. Noah!" under his 
 breath, as he looked after them. She was uncom 
 fortable. She did not enjoy Mr. Riverston, his at 
 tentions, or admiration. She wanted to get rid of 
 him and was puzzled to know how. When she saw 
 Horace approach, she thought he would help her, 
 but his explanation of Grace s presence at the fair 
 made a new worry for her. It would very mate 
 rially mar her pleasure in Grace s company and aid, 
 to have her there against the will of her family. 
 She had of late accused herself of injustice toward 
 the Desborough family, and, in reaction, her heart 
 had warmed toward them, even to making her feel 
 indebted in part to Mrs. Desborough for the flowers 
 Grace had brought. But now her happiness was 
 bruised ; Grace was there confessedly under protest. 
 
THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIR. 155 
 
 Her brother had come only to accompany her home, 
 and was amusing himself with the eccentricities of 
 people a thousand times his superiors. 
 
 Susy, too, had heard him call Miss Marcia "Mrs. 
 Noah," and could not help laughing. "There is n t 
 a bit of use in denying a resemblance," she whis 
 pered to Rachel. 
 
 "I don t deny it," Rachel answered indignantly. 
 " But she can afford to look as she pleases, and he 
 carit afford to criticise her. I despise him! " Im 
 pulsively she stepped out from behind her table and 
 went to prevent Miss Saunders from giving up her 
 purchase, a cheap little purse, to Mr. Riverston. 
 The latter was offering a five-dollar bill for it. 
 
 The little lady did not know what to make of his 
 extravagant offer, or of Rachel suddenly putting an 
 arm around her and whispering affectionately, 
 
 "Please keep the purse, Miss Saunders, as a 
 keepsake from me. Here is the half dollar you 
 gave Susy Morton for it. Don t let anybody else 
 have it, will you? Indeed, I have a reason for 
 asking you not to." 
 
 "I see that I am baffled," said Mr. Riverston, 
 with chagrin. Thrusting the bill back into his 
 pocket-book he offered the latter to Miss Saunders, 
 with an extravagance of manner worthy of the comic 
 stage, saying, 
 
 " Madam, I offer an exchange. Take all I have 
 and give me only Miss Stanwood s little empty 
 purse ! " 
 
 Miss Saunders looked up at Rachel, and then, 
 folding her spare arms around her bag as if it were 
 
156 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 a baby, smiled at the young man and said, "Not for 
 anything you can offer me." 
 
 "A moment more and I d have had it! It was 
 pure cruelty in you to interfere," he said to Eachel. 
 Then to Miss Saunders once more, tapping his 
 pocket-book, "Have you considered the profit to the 
 Cause?" 
 
 But the lady only looked placidly up at him 
 through her silver spectacles and answered, "The 
 Cause is not the question to be considered in this 
 matter." And, turning to Mr. Stanwood, she said, 
 as if she were beginning a lecture, "Necessity de 
 mands that the irrepressible conflict shall be main 
 tained by constant reinforcements of courage, elo 
 quence, persistency, and the unquenchable fire of 
 anti-slavery opposition! " 
 
 By the time she reached "persistency," Riverston 
 put his purse into his pocket and went to join Ra 
 chel again. 
 
 Rachel did not immediately return to her table. 
 She wanted to show Horace Desborough her own 
 estimation of the people whom he held in contempt. 
 It was not her way to be demonstrative, more par 
 ticularly in public, but she had put her arm around 
 Miss Saunders purposely, because she knew that he 
 was watching her, and she wished now that some 
 more of the people who might be subjects for his 
 ridicule would come along that she might show him 
 her attitude toward them. No one did, however. It 
 was late and people were going home. Mr. River 
 ston joined her again, saying, "I am quite crestfal 
 len, Miss Stanwood. The lady is deaf, dumb, and 
 
THE FIRST DAY AT THE FAIE. 157 
 
 blind to me henceforth, and you are responsible for 
 withholding a handsome profit from the fair." 
 
 "That is better than being responsible for dis 
 honesty in trade," said Rachel unthinkingly, and 
 looking about her for some excuse to send him 
 away. 
 
 "Oh, but you don t know the extent of your re 
 sponsibility, Miss Stanwood!" he exclaimed, in a 
 low tone, as she moved along. "If you would only 
 allow me to explain, I could show you " 
 
 "I doubt it," she interrupted. "I am more 
 stupid than you think. But there," in a brighter 
 tone, and pointing to Hetty Bixby, "is a young lady 
 to whom you can show some gallantry, if you will 
 be so kind, Mr. Riverston. It is time to shut up 
 shop, and Miss Bixby is struggling to get down 
 those things in order to put them away for the 
 night: would you mind helping her? " 
 
 He did mind, but there was nothing for him to do 
 but comply, and he went, wishing poor little Hetty 
 was in Jericho. 
 
 Horace went to help Grace, wondering why Ra 
 chel declined his offer of assistance in such a freez 
 ing manner. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 
 
 THE storm lasted two days, but on the third, the 
 last one of the fair, the sky was clear, and the sun, 
 lighting Nelson Hall, brought out in bold relief the 
 gay and pretty aspect of decoration and the display 
 of table furnishings which were still pitifully abun 
 dant. It brought bloom, too, to the young faces, and 
 gay spirits which made up for the bravely concealed 
 depression of two dull days. That day of sunshine 
 saved the fair from failure. People began to come 
 at an early hour to make purchases and the girls at 
 their tables brightened to see things which they had 
 worked hard to make find a market at last. Every 
 where there was a buzz of happiness because the 
 strain was over, and success assured. 
 
 At the refreshment tables business was particu 
 larly active, and when the luncheon hour arrived, 
 the service was discovered to be so deficient that 
 Mrs. Quimby sent a messenger to her house for 
 Havilah Moore to come and help. It was a rash 
 act for Havilah to show herself in so public a place, 
 but rashness protected as often as it exposed fugi 
 tives ; and when the question of sending for the girl 
 was considered, and the risk to her safety suggested, 
 it was decided that wherever Havilah moved, or 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 159 
 
 remained, the risks moved or remained with her. 
 Certainly she could be nowhere surrounded by more 
 or better protectors than at the fair. Then she was 
 given work to do almost exclusively in the anteroom, 
 where customers were not invited and where she 
 would not attract observation. 
 
 The fugitives had been separated from one an 
 other, for greater security. Little Diana was with 
 her mother, in the charge of the Quimbys, living in 
 clover under their protection. Delphina had been 
 sent to the Mortons, much against her will, and 
 was only prevailed upon to leave the Stanwoods as 
 a temporary arrangement. As soon as Havilah and 
 her child were safely disposed of together some 
 where, unless Mr. Suydan made his appearance 
 again with renewed suspicions of the Stanwoods 
 house, Delphina was to return there. So far as she 
 was concerned, the thought of her master was not 
 disturbing in the least. She was out of his clutches. 
 "Marse Tawm ain t smaht nough to cotch me," she 
 declared, and repeated, "not smaht nough! He 
 ain t got nough senses! Hablah, now, she betteh 
 look out; she can t fly roun an fin herse f nowhahs 
 de way /ken ; she s got Di on de min , an she ain t 
 got time to grab de chances. Ef Marse Tawm comes 
 yer lookin up niggehs, he 11 get mad cose dey ain t 
 in de places whah he spec s. He ain t got no sense 
 w en he s mad! Ho! ho! an fore he comes to, 
 I s quit. But Hablah, she s lookin roun for de 
 chile, an she s dah, on de spot," 
 
 Delphina had been happy and indefatigable dur 
 ing the preparations for the fair. No work was 
 
160 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 hard enough for her, nothing could subdue her un 
 bounded joy in being allowed to help. A fair was 
 to her, in any case, a grand, unmitigated frolic, but 
 when she learned the object of this one, she was 
 irrepressible in her delight. The occasion assumed 
 proportions beyond description, and the results were 
 going to be gigantic in benefits to the slaves. Her 
 idea seemed to be that if her master wanted to re 
 cover his property, he had better be quick about it, 
 because, after the fair, he would not "dahster show 
 his face in de Norf ! " She had been allowed to ac 
 company Eebecca and Susy Morton to the hall on 
 the two rainy days, and during the dreary inactivity 
 of them she had been an entertainment to every 
 body. Miss Bremer had given her a new silver 
 dollar to spend, and the result was interesting. She 
 wandered from end to end of the room, investigating 
 and inspecting at each table in turn, making up her 
 mind what to buy. Again and again she came to a 
 decision and selected, sometimes one article, some 
 times several articles, but, when it came to the mo 
 ment of parting with her dollar, she could not make 
 the sacrifice. One after another, the girls tried to 
 help her, and in at least a dozen instances, their 
 efforts were crowned with success; but within the 
 next half hour Delphina had either returned with 
 what she had bought, begging her dollar back 
 again, or she was hunted up by some soft-hearted 
 girl who presented her with the purchase and re 
 stored the precious coin for her to spend again. 
 Her taste leading her to select from the crocheted 
 tidies, worsted mats, impractical, barren -looking 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 161 
 
 pincushions, bright-colored scarfs, or fancy articles 
 which were unsalable, her heap of treasures grew 
 larger and larger and still the dollar kept coming 
 back to her. In the course of the two days Del- 
 phina and her money became a familiar source of 
 amusement to the girls, who got up innocent tilts 
 to see who could palm off certain things upon the 
 persistent customer or get temporary possession of 
 her dollar. 
 
 On the third day it was deemed prudent to leave 
 her at home, the pleasant weather promising the ad 
 vent of possible strangers and too much business to 
 admit of supervision over her. She was somewhat 
 afflicted at the deprivation, but was consoled with 
 her fantastic possessions and the promise of more. 
 
 At the hour when afternoon visitors had gone 
 away and before the evening ones began to come, a 
 group of young people were gathered around Ra 
 chel s and Susy s table, having a sociable little chat. 
 
 "Come, Meg," called Rebecca Morton to a girl 
 who was coming toward them carrying a quantity 
 of moss-covered, home-made baskets. " Stop work 
 and come eat candy. The boys feelings are hurt 
 because our demands are not equal to their supply." 
 
 "I won t eat a one, unless somebody solves my 
 problem, What is to be done with these things? " 
 And she set down her stack of baskets upon the 
 table. 
 
 "Oh dear!" sighed Rachel Stan wood. "Miss 
 Letitia Hetherby spent all last summer making 
 those, and" 
 
 "They re as ugly as sin!" said Meg. "Thy 
 
162 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 mother sent em over to my table, Rebecca Morton, 
 and I 11 never forgive her." 
 
 "Aunt Debby sent em to mine first, they ve 
 been the rounds and nobody 11 have em," said Re 
 becca. 
 
 "No mortal would have one as a gift," said Susy. 
 "Let s give them to the boys! " 
 
 "Hear! Hear! "cried the young men in chorus, 
 while everybody laughed, and Jo Norris, rising to 
 make a low bow to Susy, said, " She puts us among 
 the immortals ! " 
 
 "Miss Hetherby will be broken hearted if they 
 don t sell. Oh dear! I wonder how many will 
 drift into our house! " said Rachel dolefully. 
 
 "Here, Betty! " called Grace Desborough, taking 
 one of the baskets and going after Elizabeth, who 
 was meandering around the deserted flower-table, 
 in aimless search of diversion. Elizabeth was tired 
 out, and wished it would not be improper for her to 
 climb up and sit on the counter with her brother 
 Richard. Grace had a little scheme for improving 
 the baskets, and seeing the children, she mercifully 
 worked them into it. Elizabeth was delighted to 
 be taken inside of the bower and shown a seat where 
 she could rest, and Richard thought Grace was the 
 loveliest person he had ever seen, when she laid her 
 hands on the calves of his legs and stopped him 
 from climbing down off the counter, saying, 
 
 "No, no, don t get down. I want a boy to sit 
 right there and help me make something." 
 
 "Help, sitting down?" asked Richard, in a sur 
 prised tone. "I thought boys helped running er 
 rands." 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 
 
 Grace said, "Poor child! " and then, thinking he 
 would not like to be pitied, said, "They do help 
 that way, ever and ever so much. How many miles 
 do you suppose these two feet have trotted to-day 
 for people?" 
 
 Kichard looked into her eyes, as she stood before 
 him, with her hands on his feet, and said seriously, 
 "A hundred million miles, and I just wish they 
 had n t gone a step ! " 
 
 Elizabeth protested, "O h, Dick! How can 
 thee tell such a story ! And thee don t wish that, 
 when thee got five-cent grabs and pennies, and ice 
 cream, and all sorts of things to pay for " 
 
 "I don t care if I did! " snapped Richard, spoil 
 ing for a quarrel. "I don t care if I did; my legs 
 got tired just the same, and I guess if thy legs had 
 bones in em, thee d " 
 
 "As if legs didn t always have bones!" said 
 Betty contemptuously. 
 
 "But he means tired bones, and they are differ 
 ent, aren t they?" asked Grace, rubbing his small 
 legs up and down. 
 
 "Yes, they are!" said Dick, looking thunder 
 clouds at Betty. "Friend Snow kept sending me 
 errands all the time and kept saying she couldn t 
 go cause she had a bone in her leg. I mean that 
 kind and Betty knows it. An I got tired of grabs 
 when I found out that lots of em was the same 
 thing. And then I got too full of ice-cream, cause 
 all the different ladies gave me plates without know 
 ing I d had any, an it wasn t polite not to eat any, 
 and I couldn t help leaving some, an that ain t 
 
164 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 polite, either, and Betty might have atten what I 
 left!" 
 
 "/was full, too! "cried Betty, in self-defense. 
 "They gave it to me five times, and I had to get 
 Delphiny to eat my last plate, so Friend Quimby 
 would n t know I did n t like it. And I did n t " 
 Betty stopped, wanting to cry. She fought hard 
 with her dignity, not to compromise it before 
 Grace. 
 
 Grace, seeing an opening, struck in deftly with 
 her scheme to improve the moss-baskets by filling 
 them with evergreens and red berries, and in a few 
 minutes, under her instruction, the children were 
 intently absorbed in delightful occupation. 
 
 Presently Will Hedges, putting his head under 
 one of the arches, discovered them. 
 
 "Halloa! " he said. "What have you here, Miss 
 Desborough? A lady-slipper and a dandy -lion! 
 How much do you ask for the two? I 11 take them 
 at once, if you please. Never mind the price; 
 they re worth it. Whew ! " 
 
 The children went into fits of laughter. They 
 thought Will the embodiment of wit, wisdom, and 
 everything attractive. 
 
 To express his delight, Dick squared off at him. 
 Betty held up her basket. 
 
 "Wh-e-e-ew! " whistled Will. "Did thee make 
 that, Betty, with only ten fingers? Well, is that 
 for sale? Can I have it for this?" laying a half 
 dollar on the counter. 
 
 Betty s joy was supreme. She handed over the 
 basket instantly. Will made a bargain also for 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 165 
 
 Dick s basket, and the children were so pleased with 
 the commercial transaction that they carried their 
 gains off to show to their father at once. For 
 a moment, Will watched Grace s hands fastening 
 bitter-sweet over the handle of the basket which she 
 was adorning. He praised the skill with which she 
 concealed its ugliness, and asked permission to pur 
 chase it. 
 
 Grace demurred at his wholesale purchases, but 
 he made a point of this one and she yielded. Prat 
 tle over it lasted for a few minutes, and then Will 
 asked, 
 
 "Aren t you tired, Miss Desborough?" 
 
 "Only delightfully so," she said, and with a sud 
 den, frank impulse she exclaimed: "Oh, I have been 
 so happy here, Mr. Hedges ! It is as you said it 
 would be; I feel of more use than I have ever been 
 in my life. What you said to me that night at the 
 Stan woods has helped me so much that I want you 
 to know it." 
 
 She wondered whether she knew him well enough 
 to say just what she wanted to. Then she did what 
 everybody else did, she trusted him and went on : 
 "You all seemed so strong and powerful to help 
 people, you, and the Stan woods and Mortons, 
 and your friends ! It seemed as if you were giants, 
 and I was an insignificant little pigmy. I believe 
 I confessed as much, do you remember? " 
 
 Will remembered excellently. "You were so 
 busy measuring other people s power," he said, 
 "that you forgot to put your own into the balance." 
 
 She answered earnestly, - 
 
166 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "I did not know I had any to put there, but you 
 said nobody had any right to think little of his or 
 her own power; that every mite of it counted, and 
 that I could not be really true and earnest in wish 
 ing for it without discovering some. You said I 
 could make opportunities to use it." 
 
 The things which they had said, and what they 
 thought, or had thought, were of vast importance to 
 them both. Will s eyes gave her a quick look of 
 pleasure while he exclaimed, "I did not know I said 
 anything worth remembering so long; it was you 
 who inspired the thought, though, Miss Desborough. 
 I could not get such a fine one up, all by myself, 
 you know! " 
 
 He made her laugh, and she toyed with her 
 bitter-sweet. She was saying, "Whether you know 
 it or not, you gave me courage to make my first 
 real opportunity," when the children came running 
 back, very much excited. "Quick! Quick! Let 
 us in!" cried Betty, while Dick backed unceremo 
 niously into Will, saying: "Boost me up! Boost 
 me up! " 
 
 They were in their old places on the counter in a 
 moment. 
 
 "There he is! See him! " said Betty, making an 
 opening through the hemlock branches. "Put thy 
 head right here, Dick, and he can t see thee." 
 
 Dick, on hands and knees, peered through the 
 opening. Betty said vehemently, - 
 
 "He s the ugliest, hatefullest, wickedest person 
 in"- 
 
 "Hold on, Betty!" said Will, "Let me see the 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 167 
 
 monster, too. When a young lady talks like that, 
 I feel called upon to protect her ; point out the vil 
 lain!" 
 
 Betty, unabashed, pointed her finger at a rather 
 elegant-looking gentleman. Will had never seen 
 him before. 
 
 "Well," said Will, "I expected to see an ogre, 
 and he looks like only an ordinary man. What has 
 he done?" 
 
 Dick doubled up his fists at the stranger s distant 
 back, wagged his head wisely and said, with as dark 
 a scowl as his apple-face was capable of: "Thee don t 
 know about him, Cousin Will! He came to our 
 house one day and tried to steal Delphina, and he 
 said we had two more slaves of his ! And he siuears, 
 he said nigger! 
 
 "Wait, Dick," Will said, and went around inside 
 of the bower to the children. He questioned them, 
 to make sure they were not mistaken in the identity 
 of Mr. Suydan. Then he went to Grace, and in a 
 low tone asked, "Can you do a brave thing noio, 
 for a hunted slave? " 
 
 He was leaning his elbows on the counter and 
 looking intently into her face. Her eyes quickened, 
 and she said, " I think so try me ! " 
 
 "That man is a slave-hunter," Will said. "He 
 is the master of Havilah, the Stan woods servant. 
 We must save her, you and I, if we can ; she is here, 
 somewhere." 
 
 "In the anteroom," said Grace, hurrying out of 
 her enclosure. She would have made a rush for the 
 anteroom, but Will checked her. 
 
168 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Quietly, or we shall fail," lie said. "Don t be 
 frightened, but walk slowly, so as not to be observed. 
 Take my arm, please." 
 
 The sales were over and the evening was to close 
 with speeches and singing, to hear which an audience 
 was beginning to assemble. Benches were being 
 placed across the centre of the hall and people were 
 taking their seats upon them. 
 
 In the anteroom were a number of people busy in 
 preparations for closing up the fair. Some were 
 putting carefully into boxes unsold articles to be kept 
 for next year s fair; some were doing up into parcels 
 the cooking utensils and things which had been 
 loaned for the occasion; in one corner the china 
 which had been hired for the refreshment tables was 
 being disposed of. Martha Quimby was washing it, 
 Havilah was wiping and piling it into convenient 
 heaps for Jo Norris, who was packing it. They had 
 been at work some time and were nearly through. 
 Havilah s face wore the same sad expression which 
 Grace had observed upon it on the evening of the 
 Stan woods party, when she had first seen her. 
 
 All the gayety and cheer of the day had made no 
 impression upon her. She had worked industri 
 ously and efficiently at everything she had been 
 asked to do, but without pleasure. Intelligent and 
 interested, she was eager to be as helpful as it was 
 in her power to be, but the occasion, with all its 
 activity and brightness, could not make her forget 
 for an instant the one fact which oppressed her. She 
 and her child were slaves ! Their master might, any 
 moment, reclaim and carry them South again. For 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 169 
 
 herself alone, the thought was terrible, but for Diana 
 it was insupportable. She knew her master, and she 
 believed that he would never abandon his purpose. 
 He would follow them up until he captured them. 
 Her vivid imagination kept horrors of the worst kind 
 constantly before her, and they were accompanied 
 by a resolution which grew more and more firmly 
 fixed. But it was a resolution which she imparted 
 to nobody. 
 
 The friends who protected her knew that she could 
 not be at peace anywhere but in Canada, and their 
 plan was to get her there, with her child, as soon as 
 they could. But they had to wait for an opportun 
 ity. The owners of runaway slaves were vigilant in 
 their watch of Northern railroad stations. 
 
 Instead of feeling that Diana was safer separated 
 from her, the child w^s no sooner removed to the 
 Mortons than Havilah became possessed with the 
 fear that she would be sought there and carried off 
 alone. The chance of that was more horrible to her 
 than anything else. To escape, herself, but to have 
 her child captured, would be far worse than for both 
 to return to slavery together. She had, intensely, 
 the mother s longing to suffer whatever her child 
 must suffer. 
 
 Whatever she did, and wherever she went, Havi 
 lah could not escape from these visions, and they 
 imprinted upon her face an expression of constant 
 suspense and sorrow. 
 
 William Hedges and Grace Desborough stood in 
 the doorway with a part of the same suspense re 
 peated upon their faces. Will knew that it would 
 
170 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 be dangerous to have it known that Havilah was in 
 peril. The discovery would make her at once the 
 centre of such solicitude as might be the very means 
 of betraying her to her master. Will was at first 
 afraid that even Grace s desire to help the girl might 
 point her out. He could see that Grace was very 
 much excited. 
 
 "How shall we get her without attracting atten 
 tion? We must think," he said. 
 
 "Oh, there is no time to think! " whispered Grace, 
 trembling very much. "If he should follow us ! " 
 
 "Don t be frightened," said Will again, standing 
 with his back toward Havilah, his eyes following 
 her master s movements. "I am watching him, and 
 he is going the other way. If you could manage 
 to prepare her gently and get her things on her, I 
 would take her somewhere. Only stop! If she 
 has been tracked and the doors are being watched, 
 she 11 be recognized." 
 
 " Wait ! Listen ! " whispered Grace, grasping his 
 arm and standing close. He bent his head to her 
 without taking his eyes from the Southerner. "I 
 think I know how," Grace whispered, her teeth al 
 most chattering with fear: "my wraps are here; I 
 will put them on Havilah, and you can take her 
 downstairs to my carriage. It ought to be there. 
 People will think you are taking me." 
 
 "Oh, how clever you are! " Will said. "Yes 
 we ll try that; it will succeed if Havilah can take 
 it quietly." 
 
 It was just as well that Martha Quimby was so 
 busy, for, otherwise, she might have been alarmed 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 171 
 
 at Grace s pallor when the latter asked Havilah to 
 come away and help her for a minute. And it was 
 fortunate that the large room was filling with people 
 arriving for the speeches and singing, and that 
 Horace Desborough was so interested in helping 
 Rachel to dismantle her table that he stepped aside 
 to let William Hedges and Havilah pass by him 
 without looking at them. 
 
 Susy Morton noticed them, but she had not time 
 to be nice in her observation or she would never 
 have mistaken Havilah s tall figure for Grace s. 
 Without a second glance she said to Hetty Bixby, 
 
 " What a shame for Grace Desborough to have to 
 go before the speaking; she will lose the best part 
 of the fair." 
 
 When Rachel and Susy began the dismantling 
 process at their table, Horace Desborough presented 
 himself once more, with the offer of his services, and 
 Rachel accepted them with reluctance. She could 
 not pass him along to the other girls, as she had 
 passed Burton Riverston. He was not a person to 
 be sent where he did not incline to go. Yet here, 
 where he wanted to help, his services were not ac 
 ceptable. Rachel felt that they were tendered to 
 herself, personally, and that was not agreeable. 
 She felt under the ban of Desborough disapproval, 
 and her pride rebelled against that too. She had 
 been uncomfortable ever since she had learned that 
 Grace had come to the fair under protest, and she 
 wanted the Desborough family forced to understand 
 that she was not, in any way, responsible for Grace s 
 action. So she was cold to Horace and tried her 
 
172 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 best to make him feel that his help was unnecessary. 
 He had to put himself on the alert and find occupa 
 tion, for she would ask nothing of him. The posi 
 tion was new to him and his unfitness for it was 
 apparent. At last he complained. Susy had gone 
 to her mother s assistance and Horace seized the op 
 portunity. 
 
 " I feel very useless, Miss Stanwood, and I would 
 really like to be of service," he said, with a sort of 
 appeal for her to believe him. 
 
 "There is nothing more to do now, Mr. Desbor- 
 ough," she said, sitting down. "We have only our 
 closing ceremonies the speaking and singing to 
 wait for, and they will not interest you. Grace is 
 probably ready by this time, and you must not feel 
 obliged to stay. If you took her away, now, you 
 would avoid the confusion at the last." 
 
 "I don t want to avoid anything," said Horace, 
 nettled. "I have been trying to help you, but you 
 seem determined to spare me; you take everything 
 upon yourself without giving me fair play." 
 
 "I am used to it, and you " 
 
 " And I what? " asked Horace. "Do you think 
 me so very inefficient? " 
 
 "Not at all," she said. "I believe the contrary. 
 Only"- 
 
 " Only what? Why cannot I have my rightful 
 share of both the labor and its reward?" he asked. 
 
 "The reward you cannot have," Kachel answered 
 positively. "That being denied you, it would be un 
 fair to give you a full measure of labor. Indeed, I 
 am not sure that it has been right to give you any." 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 173 
 
 "I don t know how you make that out," Horace 
 answered, sitting down on the bench with her. " I 
 claimed the labor, and why can t I have even the 
 little measure of your approbation which I have 
 earned?" 
 
 The red came into Kachel s cheeks as she said, 
 with a tinge of haughtiness, "My approbation has 
 nothing to do with the reward I mean. That would 
 be poorly worth laboring for. I was not thinking 
 of anything in the least personal; I " 
 
 She paused, wishing that she had not said any 
 thing which called for explanation. But he waited, 
 and she added, "I meant the reward of helping the 
 cause of abolition. We all have that so at heart 
 that to work for it is, to us, a privilege. You don t 
 sympathize with it and so you lose " It did not 
 interest her to make him understand, and she gave 
 up the effort in an impatient exclamation, " Oh, you 
 can t know what you lose! " 
 
 "I know better than you think I do, Miss Stan- 
 wood," he said, earnestly, and a little sadly. He 
 was thinking that, at every step, he lost ground 
 with her. Whatever he tried to talk about with her 
 seemed to widen the gulf between them. She al 
 ways came back to her everlasting hobby and seemed 
 to wish to keep only their differences before him. 
 
 She misunderstood, and wondered if she had done 
 him injustice. Perhaps, after all, he sympathized 
 with his sister more than he had avowed. She 
 turned her face suddenly to him, as if she wanted 
 him to go on. He repeated, "I know better than 
 you think I do," He was not thinking of the anti- 
 
174 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 slavery cause, and she was not thinking of anything 
 else. 
 
 Her eyes lighted pleasantly and she asked eagerly, 
 "Then you do care more than I suppose? You 
 care more for the liberty of the slaves and you sym 
 pathize less with their masters than you openly con 
 fess?" 
 
 Now was his chance ; he might easily call up one 
 of her rare smiles and he longed to do it. But 
 something about her made him unwilling to be any 
 thing but absolutely honest. 
 
 "I care in my own way," he said, "but it is not 
 yours. I hate slavery, but I think the abolitionists 
 are " - 
 
 " Well ? " she asked. " What are we ? You need 
 not mind saying what you think; we are used to be 
 ing called everything that is bad." 
 
 "You make it hard for me," he said, as her ex 
 pression changed to one of disappointment. "I 
 mean nothing bad. Fanatics was the word in my 
 mind, and I mean by it only that your enthusiasm 
 carries you too far, much farther than I can fol 
 low, that is all." 
 
 "Where does it carry us? What are you afraid 
 of?" she asked. 
 
 He answered earnestly, "If you had your way, 
 and slavery were suddenly abolished, it would carry 
 you to anarchy and a state of utter disorganization. 
 It would throw the people whom you wish to help 
 into a hopeless condition of degradation and mis 
 ery." 
 
 "What is their condition now? Do you know 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 175 
 
 enough about it to contrast it with what it might 
 be?" she asked coldly. 
 
 "I have not made a study of the subject," he 
 said, "but I think I can see, by the very nature of 
 things, that the results of emancipation would be 
 dreadful. And allow me to put a question also. 
 Do not your leaders, do you not all gather your 
 impressions of the condition of the slaves from ex 
 ceptional cases? Are not the masses of them prac 
 tically better off than they would be if they were 
 free?" 
 
 "And happier? and safer?" she asked with sar 
 casm. "And why not go farther and ask if their 
 position is not even enviable, with no responsibility, 
 no care, no duty, except that of submission?" 
 
 "No, I don t think that," said Horace warmly. 
 "There is no argument to prove slavery anything 
 but a curse. I hate the system, and do not in any 
 way defend it, but I cannot see that any good is ac 
 complished by the course pursued by abolitionists. 
 It is aggressive and disorganizing, and the result is 
 that it creates antagonism. It makes people angry 
 and keeps their anger hot." 
 
 "Whom does it antagonize? Whom does it 
 make angry?" asked Rachel. "Anybody excepting 
 those who believe in slavery? And those who don t 
 believe in it, but who would not have it disturbed? 
 Oh!" she cried, her face suddenly aflame, "They 
 are worse than the slaveholders! The slaveholders 
 at least believe in their institution, but what can bo 
 said for people who see a wrong, a wrong so ter 
 rible as to be a curse upon the country, you called 
 
17G EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 it that, go on, and on, and who will not even 
 raise their voices to speak what they believe lest 
 they antagonize, or make angry the wrong-doers? 
 They will cry out against other wrongs, but they 
 will fold their hands and look at this, the greatest 
 one of all, and say nothing lest they might disturb 
 the peace! Peace! It is a wicked, cruel peace, 
 and I wish the abolitionists were strong enough to 
 make a whole world of people angry while it lasts! " 
 
 She was glorious in her self -forgetting scorn. 
 Horace had never seen a creature so beautiful. He 
 looked at her and did not speak for a moment. 
 Then she came to herself. "I beg your pardon," 
 she said. "I did not mean to get so earnest. I 
 don t believe, Mr. Desborough, that you are one of 
 those hopelessly wicked people. You have only, as 
 you said, not made a study of the subject yet." 
 
 "If you would be my teacher, Miss Stan wood, I 
 would engage to make a serious study of it," he said 
 impulsively. 
 
 "No," she said persistently, "I decline to think 
 you require a teacher ; I believe you have only to 
 think about the subject. You are a lawyer and 
 your study is justice. But I do want to say one 
 thing, if you will let me." 
 
 He begged her to make it as long as possible. 
 He could have listened to her for hours. 
 
 "It is not much," she said, "but I want you to 
 know you, and your father and mother that I 
 have never used any influence to persuade Grace to 
 join us." 
 
 "Surely you need not tell me that, Miss Stan- 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. Ill 
 
 wood," he exclaimed. "I am certain," -he had 
 not been, but he was now, "that you have not 
 made the slightest effort to influence my sister s 
 opinions." 
 
 "Thank you!" she said. Then, the red coming 
 all over her face, "I have never given her any anti- 
 slavery eloquence. You made me forget myself." 
 
 He was glad that he had had the power and 
 wished that he could use it often, but he never 
 meant to be the object of her scorn again. 
 
 "We were all surprised when Grace told us her 
 views," he said. "We did not know that she had 
 done such a quantity of independent thinking." 
 
 "Perhaps it did not require so vast an amount as 
 you imagine," said Rachel. "The anti-slavery doc 
 trine is very simple, you know. I think" She 
 looked into his face, and stopped. 
 
 "What do you think? " he asked. 
 
 "Perhaps I ought not to say it," she said. 
 
 "Oh, yes, do! "he said, with a frank smile which 
 lighted up his face delightfully, and shot into her 
 mind a new liking for him. 
 
 He went on. "I like to hear what you think. I 
 won t promise to agree with you, but I am intensely 
 interested." 
 
 "That is just it ! " she exclaimed laughing. "The 
 despised abolitionists are interesting ! There are 
 thousands of people who would belong to us, if they 
 only dared to listen. You are braver than the rest, 
 and you do dare, so, beware ! You 11 be where 
 Gracie is some day. Oh, yes, you will! " she cried, 
 answering his protesting little gesture. "You have 
 
178 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 decided not to agree with me, but you want me to 
 talk about it, and, when you find yourself face to 
 face with the question, you 11 be on my side of it, 
 you can t help yourself! " 
 
 He looked at her and said in his heart that he 
 would like to be on her side of every question, his 
 life long. 
 
 Suddenly, while he was still looking at her, her 
 eyes flashed and she sprang to her feet. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Horace, standing 
 beside her. Two gentlemen approached the table, 
 and one, with elaborate courtesy, said, "Pray be 
 seated again, Miss Stan wood. I did not mean to 
 alarm you." 
 
 "What is it?" Horace asked again. She was 
 very pale, and seemed to be making a violent effort 
 to control some strong emotion. She half turned to 
 him and said, "Nothing is the matter with me, Mr. 
 Desborough. Ask that man what he wants." 
 
 Horace stepped in front of her, as Mr. Suydan 
 answered before the question was repeated. 
 
 " Miss Stanwood knows what I want, and I should 
 judge by her manner that she knew where I could 
 find it. Miss Stanwood, this time Havilah Moore 
 cannot escape me. A person whom I have employed 
 to aid me in recovering my property, has seen her 
 in this building. As the exits are watched, she 
 cannot leave it without being arrested. It will be 
 more comfortable for you to give her up quietly." 
 
 "Address yourself to me, sir, if you please," said 
 Horace, "Miss Stanwood declines to converse with 
 you." 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 179 
 
 Suy dan s manner was insolent. 
 
 "I don t care whom I address, but I will have the 
 woman I am after," he said angrily. 
 
 "Ask Will to come here," Rachel said to Susy 
 Morton, who had returned just as Mr. Suydan and 
 his companion presented themselves. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Hedges? " Horace asked Susy. 
 
 "He has gone to take your sister home. I saw 
 them leave the hall together long ago," said Susy, 
 her voice shaking. She was so frightened that she 
 did not know she was steadying herself by clutching 
 Mr. Desborough s arm. "What shall we do?" she 
 whispered, looking up piteously at him. "Those 
 men are " 
 
 "Never mind who they are, or what they want," 
 exclaimed Rachel peremptorily; and, turning to 
 Horace, she said in a low tone, 
 
 "Go and send my father here. If you cannot 
 find him, send oh, send almost any gentleman 
 from over there by the platform. But stay away 
 yourself; I entreat you not to return! Go! Go! " 
 
 She was too earnest for him not to obey, and he 
 went immediately, hurt, angry, and puzzled at her 
 request to him not to return. He did not know 
 that the speech he had once made about the justice 
 of returning fugitive slaves to their masters had 
 flashed into her mind and tilled her with a sudden 
 fear lest he might betray Havilah. 
 
 But this was not a moment to think of hurts ; Ra 
 chel needed somebody, and he must send her father 
 to her at once. He would think of the hurt after 
 ward. 
 
180 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 The people had settled into an audience at the 
 farther end of the hall, where the gentlemen who 
 were to speak, and the Hutchinsons, had gathered 
 upon the platform. Horace saw that Mr. Stan wood 
 was acting as chairman and was conversing busily 
 with a gentleman who was taking notes. To call 
 him away would attract observation, and make peo 
 ple curious; he must get somebody else. Whom 
 should he ask? He hurried here and there, but 
 recognized no one. He was afraid of addressing 
 the wrong person. How did he know that the 
 slaveholder had not more friends in the audience? 
 On one of the benches he saw two common-looking 
 men who were making game of something disagree 
 ably. And not far from them was a group of men 
 from the street, who looked as if they were there 
 for the purpose of creating disturbance. Horace 
 Desborough had done more than forget his speech 
 about the rights of slaveholders; he had forgotten 
 everything excepting that here, in this room, was 
 one of them claiming a woman as his property, 
 as he would claim an animal. And the woman 
 was hiding somewhere within reach. Instinctively 
 Horace was bending every energy to protect her. 
 Never mind his theories, they were not practica 
 ble now. He would help Eachel save the woman 
 first, and perhaps be consistent afterwards. He 
 had seen Havilah, and to think of this common- 
 looking man laying his hands upon her and claiming 
 her as he would claim a beast, was intolerable. 
 Every instant seemed an hour. Miss Stan wood had 
 told him to send some one to her, and there was no 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 181 
 
 one to send. In spite of her entreaty to him to stay 
 away, he started to go back to her. Then he won 
 dered if he could find Havilah first and help in her 
 concealment. Could he save her himself? How? 
 Was there a way to the roof? He went to the door 
 to see who might be there, that man had said the 
 exits were watched ; did he mean only those on the 
 street? He came against Will Hedges just enter 
 ing. "Thank God!" he whispered, seizing upon 
 him. Will ha?l Grace s wrap hanging over his 
 arm, but Horace did not notice it or think of Grace. 
 He told Will hurriedly what had happened and 
 asked, "What is to be done? How can we save 
 her?" 
 
 Will s face looked triumphant, as if he had won 
 a victory. His eyes shone as he said, "The girl is 
 safe. Your sister saved her! " 
 
 " Grace ? " asked Horace, not knowing if he heard 
 aright. "Where is she? " 
 
 "Your sister saved her! " repeated Will, as if the 
 fact gave him all the joy he could take in. 
 
 Across the hall Suydan and his companion were 
 contending with Kachel for admission into the ante 
 room, at the door of which she and Susy stood 
 guard. The buzz of conversation in the audience 
 was loud enough to prevent them from attracting 
 attention. 
 
 Both girls were in a state of alarm, Rachel 
 white to the lips. As Desborough reached the spot, 
 she was saying to Mr. Suydan, "We have no prop 
 erty of yours concealed anywhere, sir ! Then her 
 eyes lighted upon Horace, and she exclaimed, "Oh, 
 
182 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 why are you back again? Couldn t you send any 
 body to help me?" and then, changing her tone, 
 she cried out, "Oh, Will! Will!" 
 
 "What do you want, gentlemen?" asked Will, 
 coming up to them. 
 
 At the opposite end of the room, Wendell Phil 
 lips, stepping forward on the platform, was greeted 
 with loud and continued applause. Under cover of 
 the noise, Suydan raised his voice and said angrily, 
 pointing to the door behind Eachel, " We want to 
 go into that room! My slave, Havilah Moore, is 
 there!" 
 
 Rachel lost herself. Impulsively, believing that 
 Havilah was in the anteroom, and that the inevita 
 ble moment for her capture had come, she cried out, 
 "Havilah Moore is the slave of no man, she is a 
 free woman ! a free woman ! " 
 
 "Open the door, Desborough," said Will. "We 
 will all go into the room, if you please." He mo 
 tioned to Eachel and Susy to precede them. 
 
 He was the last one to enter the anteroom and 
 closed the door. Rachel gave a moan. Horace 
 tried to speak to her, but she turned away from him. 
 It seemed, at first, as if the room was deserted, 
 but in a moment they saw a figure in a long, dark 
 cloak, crouching on a bench in the corner, among a 
 pile of shawls and wraps. Suydan made a quick 
 step toward it, but Will Hedges intercepted him, 
 saying in a commanding tone, "Not a step nearer, 
 sir! You mistake!" Then, bending over the fig 
 ure, he whispered something, and the golden head of 
 Grace lifted itself out of the wraps. 
 
FACE TO FACE WITH THE QUESTION. 183 
 
 "You may search where you please, gentlemen," 
 said Will, smiling like a conqueror, "but you must 
 not lay a finger upon the wrong person! " 
 
 There was an outcry of joy from Eachel and 
 Susy, who took possession of Grace. 
 
 Suydan began to talk loud and to look about the 
 room for other exits or places of concealment. His 
 companion, who had maintained an attitude of silent 
 scrutiny throughout, urged him now to leave the 
 
 building to the "d d nigger - abolition maii- 
 
 stealers." 
 
 Horace Desborough confronted them both. 
 "Words like those are dangerous for you gentle 
 men," he said. "Show a warrant for your search, 
 or give up looking for your property here." 
 
 There was an angry dispute, which ended with the 
 discovery that Suydan, on this occasion, had come 
 without legal authority for the arrest of Havilah, 
 and that his companion was not a constable. 
 
 "Then the sooner you leave the better," said 
 Horace, at last, with angry dignity. "You can ex 
 press your opinions of abolitionists outside. They 
 are having a meeting in the next room, and you 
 make yourselves liable to arrest for disturbing the 
 peace." 
 
 "Don t urge the gentlemen to go yet awhile," 
 said a mild voice, and Mr. Abner Cumley advanced, 
 rubbing his hands and with a beaming countenance. 
 He had perceived, from the platform, that a dis 
 turbance of some kind was going on, and had come 
 unobserved into the little room to inquire into it. 
 
 " It is a pity to deny anybody an opportunity to 
 
184 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 hear Wendell Phillips," Mr. Cumley continued. 
 "There are vacant seats at the back of the hall, gen 
 tlemen," with an inviting motion of the hand toward 
 the large room. "If yon wish to occupy two of 
 them, you will hear the close of a most eloquent ad 
 dress by Mr. Phillips, and, after one or two others, 
 William Lloyd Garrison will speak." 
 
 "Grace! You saved her!" Horace cried, bend 
 ing over his sister, after the men had gone. His 
 tone was one of heartfelt, honest joy. He did not 
 know that Rachel heard him, or that, of all the 
 smiles he had ever seen upon her face, the most 
 beautiful one was there now, for him. It was a 
 time of feeling which was too intense for them to 
 recall speeches in conversations that were past. 
 But Rachel was right, Horace Desborough had 
 been "face to face with the question," and he was 
 upon her side of it ! 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A SLEIGH RIDE. 
 
 "AND now Grace will settle down again, I hope," 
 Mrs. Desborough said to her husband and son. 
 "She has had her way, and I hope and pray she has 
 had enough to satisfy her and cure her ridiculous 
 anti-slavery fever. Horace, you must take her to 
 the opera and other places. If you accept a few 
 invitations and go with her, she 11 come back to 
 herself. I am glad the Gray thorns ball is coming 
 soon." 
 
 And because Horace made no reply, Mrs. Des 
 borough thought he sympathized with her. 
 
 She thought it was the reaction from excitement 
 and overwork which made Grace pale and more 
 quiet than ever. She was delighted to see Horace 
 apparently act upon her suggestion and ask his sis 
 ter, one afternoon in January, to take a sleigh ride 
 with him. Grace accepted his invitation eagerly, 
 and Mrs. Desborough, from the window, watched 
 them start off, with satisfaction in her soul, think 
 ing how excellent her advice had been, and how ad 
 mirably it was going to work. She turned away 
 from the window, thinking, " The ride will do Grace 
 more good than anything. It will take her mind 
 away from that fair and everything connected with 
 
186 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 it. Horace lias so much tact; he will interest her 
 in fresh things." 
 
 Horace and Grace had given but a meagre account 
 of their experiences at the fair. The story of 
 Havilah s escape came out piecemeal, and the impor 
 tant part Grace had played in it did not make much 
 of a showing. The woman had worn Grace s wrap 
 as a disguise, and it was just like Grace to lend it 
 for such a purpose. It would be just like her, too, 
 never to mind the association afterwards. But it 
 was of no consequence, for she was to have a new 
 and far handsomer wrap to wear to the Graythorn 
 ball. As for Horace, he seemed even less inclined 
 than his sister was to talk. But he appeared very 
 much absorbed in his business, leaving home earlier 
 and returning later. His mind was occupied with 
 more important things, and since he did not want to 
 talk about the fair and the set of people connected 
 with it, why should he be bored? 
 
 These were Mrs. Desborough s thoughts, and they 
 carried her away from a real understanding of her 
 two children as rapidly as the sleigh, on that after 
 noon, carried the two children over the crisp snow. 
 
 It was a rare day for a sleigh ride. The sky was 
 clear, the snow hard, and the atmosphere, with no 
 wind to speak of, just too cool for thaw. 
 
 Over all the unsightly rubbish of dumping grounds, 
 building lots, cattle-pens and shanties, the snow lay 
 in its new purity and its picturesque, fantastic med 
 ley of blue shadows. There was only a beautiful 
 world visible that day ; the wickedness and deform 
 ities of New York seemed covered up. A thaw 
 
A SLEIGH RIDE. 187 
 
 would come on the morrow, but it would take twen 
 ty-four hours for it to lift the cover and reveal the 
 city s skeletons again. 
 
 It need not have stayed away on Horace s or 
 Grace s account, for they lost most of the charm of 
 this visitation of the snow. They were both so ab 
 sorbed in thought that they did not see it, and for 
 some time neither of them spoke. Then Horace, 
 slowing his horse, looked about him and said: "I 
 did not mean to bring you to Harlem, Grace. It 
 is not half so pretty as the west side, up Broadway." 
 
 "Never mind; I did not know we had come this 
 way. I really don t care where we go," said Grace. 
 
 "That remark may be either insulting, or com 
 plimentary; which way shall I interpret it?" said 
 Horace, looking down upon her with a smile. 
 
 Grace smiled back at him, like a child awakening, 
 and said: "I don t think it meant anything at all; 
 it is hard to think to-day." 
 
 "Or hard not to which?" asked her brother. 
 "I can t get my mind away from all that fair busi 
 ness ; can you yours ? " 
 
 Grace wakened more and said: "I did n t think 
 you were troubled. I thought your business was 
 crowding that out of your memory. Mamma thinks 
 Gray thorn & Benderly are overworking you." 
 
 "On the contrary, I have been shirking. They 
 have a right to complain of me," said Horace, turn 
 ing his horse west, through 125th Street. "I ve 
 been taking long walks and doing my own thinking, 
 not theirs. I can t get my mind back on to their 
 business, Grace; it sticks at the fair." 
 
188 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Grace repeated, "I thought it was only my mind, 
 not yours, which was doing that, Horace. My 
 mind is so little that there is n t room in it for more 
 than one thing at a time." She was trying to be 
 funny, but while her tone was bright enough, her 
 meaning was dreary. 
 
 "If that one thing is the fair, your mind must be 
 a vast one, Gracie," said Horace. 
 
 She liked him to call her "Gracie." She always 
 felt, when he did so, on closer terms with him; her 
 awe of him was less and she was more ready to be 
 confidential. 
 
 She laughed, saying idly, "What an idea! " 
 
 "It is not such an easy matter to measure any 
 body s mind," he went on. "That last night I came 
 suddenly upon a corner of my own which I never 
 before knew existed." 
 
 "Oh, Horace! " cried Grace, her eyes brightening 
 with admiration of him. "You mean when Havi- 
 lah escaped. You were glad of that; you couldn t 
 have seen that man take her back to slavery! " 
 
 "Grace," said Horace, with sudden, bold confi 
 dence, "I had to fight myself to keep my hands from 
 her master s throat! " 
 
 " And I was afraid of you ! " cried Grace. " Think 
 how dreadful I was ! I am going to confess every 
 thing now. When Mr. Hedges and I were trying 
 to save Havilah, we had to pass by you. I could 
 have touched you, but I hurried Mr. Hedges along. 
 You know how you you used to say that slave 
 holders had a right to their property, and all that ; 
 and I was afraid you would not approve of what we 
 
A SLEIGH EWE. 189 
 
 were doing. It was awfully unjust not to trust you, 
 Horace ! You showed me afterwards how noble you 
 are! You d have saved Havilah yourself, in a 
 better "- 
 
 "No, I would not nobody could. Don t talk 
 nonsense!" exclaimed Horace. "It was merciful 
 that the chance fell to you, little girl. I could not 
 have been so quiet about it. Hedges is used to it, 
 and knew how to keep cool ; did you ever see such 
 a fellow ? You ought to have seen his face when 
 he told me you had saved the girl! He s got more 
 nerve than anybody I ever saw. When he wants 
 himself, he 11 be there, Gracie ! But I ! I 11 con 
 fess that the moment I recognized the fact that the 
 woman was in danger, there seemed nothing else to 
 do but to save her at any cost. I lost sight of every 
 thing else and I believe I d have pitched into that 
 man, then and there, if I had seen him lay a hand 
 upon her. It was impulse, instinct, I don t know 
 what, but I know I could not have controlled my 
 self. Grace, I would give more to have that act of 
 yours down on my record, than to have any honor 
 the world can give me! " 
 
 "But it was n t noble in me, either, Horace," 
 Grace insisted. "It was only what you said just 
 now, instinct, impulse. There was n t any time to 
 think and plan. It seemed as if the girl s life was 
 in my hands, and I had to save her! May be it s 
 ridiculous, but I think I d have done it, even if 
 Mr. Hedges had not been there. Afterwards it all 
 seemed like a dream, and I didn t half understand 
 what the people were saying to me. And now, 
 
190 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 since it all happened, I don t feel like the same per 
 son. I am so glad of the chance to talk it all over. 
 What shall I do? I don t feel as if I could go 
 back and live the same kind of life I did before. 
 The very thought of that Graythorn ball is tiresome 
 to me. But mamma thinks you want me to go. 
 Do you?" 
 
 "Poor little girl! Her troubles are much too 
 big for her limited little mind; aren t they? " said 
 her brother, reaching his left arm over the back of 
 the seat and putting on a comical expression of pity 
 as he looked down at her. Then he straightened 
 himself and said, 
 
 "Mamma is right, Gracie; I do rather want you 
 to go. I know how you feel, because " 
 
 Horace stopped, with a doubt as to the wisdom 
 of being confidential on so many points. It was 
 rather the family custom to spare Grace perplexing 
 thoughts. 
 
 She was looking up at him, wondering if her 
 mother was right in thinking that he admired Miss 
 Graythorn so very much. Horace began again and 
 yielded to his impulse to take her further into his 
 confidence. 
 
 "It is important for a good many reasons, Gracie 
 dear," he said. "You know that my prospects de 
 pend largely upon my pleasing the firm. I shall 
 disappoint papa dreadfully if I fail to do that, and 
 I m afraid I m not likely to please either them or 
 him just now. At least I- After that experi 
 ence at the fair, I feel" He made a bold dash 
 finally, and said, "The fact is, I am in a tighter 
 
A SLEIGH EIDE. 191 
 
 box than you are. The firm are very decidedly pro- 
 slavery in their principles. They are even bitterly 
 so. The case they first put me on, a year ago, in 
 volved the defense of those very principles, the 
 right of a southern planter to recover his property 
 in slaves. A little point of law which I happened 
 to rake up just at the right time, established the 
 firm s confidence in me and I took what papa called 
 a great step forward in my profession. And now, 
 recently, another case somewhat similar to that one 
 has come up and they have given me almost sole 
 charge of it. But my work on it has come to a 
 standstill. Since this fair business, my interest, 
 sympathy, conviction, all have been reversed. I 
 want the firm to be I want them to be defeated, 
 that s the long and short of it, my dear! Don t 
 misunderstand me, Grace; I m not a ranting, roar 
 ing abolitionist yet. But I m not the fellow I 
 was, or the fellow Messrs. Gray thorn and Benderly 
 and my father think I am. I d give a good deal 
 to know just what and where I am! I feel like 
 going on an exploring expedition to discover my 
 self, Grade!" 
 
 He smiled down upon her as if it was pleasant to 
 have confided in her. 
 
 "Oh, how hard!" she said sadly. "How will 
 you ever straighten it out? I see it all. You have 
 pledged yourself to the case, and now you would 
 like to give it up and let reputation and everything 
 go to the winds! I don t see how it is to help, but 
 I 11 go to the ball and do anything else you want 
 me to, dear, indeed I will." The thought came 
 
192 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 how very difficult his course would be, if he did 
 care for Miss Graythorn, and, beside his perplexi 
 ties, her own seemed almost trivial. 
 
 "Thank you!" he said. "I believe it will be 
 better for us to go." 
 
 They rode in silence for a little while. Then 
 Horace said, "I am glad we have had this talk, 
 Gracie; without it you could hardly have pieced to 
 gether my old arguments and my joy over that slave 
 woman s escape, could you? " 
 
 "No," she said, absently, and, after a minute, 
 added, "but there is something else, Horace." 
 
 "Is there?" he asked. "Out with it, then! 
 Let s have a clean breast of it." He slowed the 
 horse into a walk, and put his hand over her shoul 
 ders again, while he said, "You and I have come to 
 a turning-point in life s journey, I m thinking, and 
 it looks as if we were going to need each other s 
 help now and then. We mustn t spoil to-day with 
 any reserves, my dear; what is the something 
 else ?" 
 
 Grace innocently startled him with her answer. 
 She looked up anxiously and said, "Kachel! " 
 
 His face flushed crimson, but he turned away too 
 quickly for her to see. "What about her?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Do you still think I ought to be less intimate 
 with her? " she asked, and then protested, "I can t 
 do that, Horace; I love her too dearly and she 
 is" 
 
 "Forget everything I ever said about her," he 
 interrupted, "and let me begin all over again, so 
 
A SLEIGH RIDE. 193 
 
 far as she is concerned. The fact is I have new im 
 pressions, to color or perhaps exchange for my 
 old ones of Miss Stan wood. I would give you now 
 to understand " His phrases were getting stilted. 
 He broke away from them and exclaimed with his 
 most genuine heartiness, "Consider all my unfavor 
 able opinions revoked, Grace, my dear ! They were 
 ghosts of opinions, not real ones, forget them all, 
 and help me to begin again with her and to come in 
 for a share of her regard, if you can ! " 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad you feel so, Horace! " Grace 
 exclaimed joyfully. "Mamma will be influenced by 
 you and will change her opinion too, and perhaps 
 things won t be so hard after all! Then I am going 
 on just the same with Rachel and we can all be 
 friends together, if you will! " 
 
 "If she will! " Horace said in an undertone. 
 
 When they reached home, dinner was waiting and 
 Eloise scowled at their late coining. 
 
 "The one perfect day of the season for a sleigh 
 ride!" Mr. Desborough remarked, when they were 
 seated at the table. "Tell us about it; where did 
 you go?" 
 
 It was as difficult a question as he could have 
 asked, but it required no answer, for Mrs. Desbor 
 ough exclaimed, "You look as fresh as the day, 
 both of you! The ride has done you good." 
 
 Horace, meeting Grace s eyes across the table, 
 said, with a smile, "Yes, it has done us good." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 TIBBIE LEAENS ABOUT ORGAN STOPS. 
 
 "Now that s over; what comes next? "was the 
 question at the Stan woods after the fair was ended. 
 
 "There will be no peace until Havilah Moore 
 and her child are in Canada. We must get them 
 aboard the underground railroad as soon as possi 
 ble," Mr. Stanwood said. 
 
 But there were objections to this. Havilah s lit 
 tle girl was delicate, and the climate of Canada, it 
 was thought, would endanger her life. Mother and 
 child were at the Quimbys now, and as their house 
 was one which had never before harbored fugitives, 
 Mrs. Stanwood felt sure they were safe. Suydan 
 was not going to abandon his pursuit of them, that 
 was clear. He seemed to be spending most of his 
 time in the city, and it was supposed that other 
 business, as well as the search after his slaves, de 
 tained him there. 
 
 Happy-go-lucky Delphina refused to budge from 
 the vicinity of her first protectors. She was con 
 tent at the Mortons because of their connection 
 and intimacy with the Stanwood family, but farther 
 away she could not be persuaded to go. So far 
 from being troubled, she could not be even suffi 
 ciently impressed with a sense of danger because of 
 
TIBBIE LEARNS ABOUT ORGAN STOPS. 195 
 
 her master s presence in the city. She always stuck 
 to the same argument: "Marse Tawm ain t smaht 
 nough to cotch dis yer niggeh. He done tried it, 
 an he hed to gib it up. No, Miss Mawton," she 
 insisted, "he s arter de wrong nig, sense me, 
 Miss Mawton, I mean pusson. Hawyet Wilson 
 b longed to Marse Tawm Lawkwood Suydan, but 
 Delphiny K. Simpson b longs to de Stanwood an 
 Mawton famblies, an she s gwine to wuk fo dem 
 twell she draps dade! " 
 
 This pretense of losing her identity in an assumed 
 name tickled Delphina mightily, and she always 
 laughed over it as if she had ready for Mr. Suydan 
 a trap from which there was no escape. 
 
 Running parallel with that of the fair, a steady 
 campaign had been going on at the Stanwoods , in 
 which figured Tibbie MacClare, as an active army 
 of difficulties, and Mr. Franz Kreutsohn, Rachel s 
 music teacher, as commander-in-chief . 
 
 Mr. Kreutsohn had been Rachel s teacher since 
 she was twelve years old. At that time Mr. Stan- 
 wood, whose standard of education was higher than 
 his income, answered the advertisement of a Ger 
 man gentleman who wanted to live with an Ameri 
 can family and exchange lessons in music and Ger 
 man for instruction in English. The result was 
 the establishment of Mr. Kreutsohn for a time as 
 a member of the family, with Rachel as a pupil, in 
 German only music, although not regarded from 
 the severe Quaker standpoint, being ruled out as an 
 unnecessary luxury. But Mr. Kreutsohn s piano 
 
196 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 had to come with him, and, being too clumsy to be 
 carried upstairs, it was tolerated, rather than wel 
 comed, in the parlor. To Rachel it was a joy from 
 the beginning. In a very little while Mr. Kreut- 
 sohn discovered that she had unusual musical talent, 
 and her parents were easily persuaded to allow him 
 to cultivate it. By the time his older sister came 
 from Germany to keep house for him and he went to 
 live with her, Rachel s music had become a part of 
 her life. Another piano was provided for her, and 
 her lessons were continued. 
 
 Among the many warm and sincere friends who 
 visited the Stanwoods, 110 one was more loved and 
 honored than Mr. Kreutsohn. He was a musician 
 to the marrow of his bones. He was also a wise 
 man, well read, searching, and thorough in every 
 thing which he undertook. 
 
 When he undertook Tibbie MacClare he recog 
 nized her as a difficult subject. From the moment 
 when he had heard her sing at the Stanwoods party 
 his heart fairly ached for the privilege of directing 
 her musical education. He perceived that evening, 
 in the quality and compass of her voice, material 
 from which might develop as rare a singer as any 
 ever heard. The very passion which caused her 
 tantrum after her song ended, would, if she learned 
 to control it, give her power without limitation. 
 
 Mr. Kreutsohn was original in everything he did, 
 and his method of dealing with Tibbie partook of 
 his genius. He began by getting a little acquainted 
 with her, drawing her into conversations on various 
 subjects and getting at her opinions. In religion 
 
TIBBIE LEARNS ABOUT ORGAN STOPS. 197 
 
 he found her superstitious and bigoted. The most 
 rigid form of Scotch Presbyterianism was the only 
 one with which Tibbie was familiar. It was the 
 form farthest from the comprehension or sympathy 
 of a man like Mr. Kreutsohn, and he dealt with it 
 according to his own interpretation. 
 
 After acquainting himself somewhat with the in 
 strument with which he had to deal, he tried it, and 
 one day asked Tibbie to sing. She did not know 
 that he had heard her before, and expected to aston 
 ish him. She sang her best and then looked for the 
 burst of admiration to which she was accustomed. 
 The musician wiped the perspiration from his fore 
 head, put his hands on his knees and looked scru- 
 tinizingly at Tibbie for a moment. Then he said 
 gravely, "My child, the good God has lent to you 
 one of his instruments that is the most beautiful and 
 wonderful of all. If you can work hard and learn 
 to use it in the way God means you to do it, there 
 will come one day when you can make that voice 
 like a thousand of the best angels the Lord sends 
 to tell his messages to his people, and you can 
 make much good in the world. But look to me, 
 and believe what I tell to you there is one oder 
 thing." He was getting earnest and his English 
 broke occasionally into dialect. Holding up a 
 warning finger to Tibbie, he went on seriously, 
 "one oder thing what you can do with that voice, 
 you can make it bring to the people bad, ugly 
 messages from the great Tevil ! And all his little 
 tevils will help you to carry dose messages ! Yes, 
 rny child, I tell you it is de truth, I tell you what 
 
198 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 power you make with tliat woice, it will depend on 
 vich of dose angels or dose tevils gets to de inside 
 of your soul! " 
 
 Tibbie believed in the devil, and listened to Mr. 
 Kreutsohn s prophecy as one quite possible of fulfill 
 ment. She looked up into his face with anxious 
 eyes and, as he ended, she knitted her fingers to 
 gether and asked with a tremulous voice, 
 
 " And and which 11 win the day, do ye 
 think?" 
 
 The wise old German answered her without smil 
 ing, "That is for only you to settle." He waited a 
 moment for her serious impression to have full 
 effect, and then said, encouragingly, "But there is 
 great help for you. There are these people where 
 you have a home, and this best Miss Rachel," with 
 a motion of his hand toward Rachel, who sat by, lis 
 tening with quiet interest. "And if you will have 
 it so, there is this old man." 
 
 He turned toward Rachel, and rising, he held out 
 one hand to her and the other to Tibbie, saying, 
 "Come, what do you say? We shall fight de big 
 and cle little tevils, all togedder ! So? " 
 
 And Tibbie went home from her first lesson with 
 out praises of her voice, but with something else to 
 think about. 
 
 "If anybody alive can manage Tibbie, I believe 
 it is Uncle Franz Kreutsohn," said Rachel, from 
 her side of the evening lamp, "and I hope she won t 
 be influenced at present by any chance discovery of 
 the nature of our religious views." 
 
 Her mother and she were darning the week s 
 stockings at the large round centre table. 
 
TIBBIE LEAKNS ABOUT OEGAN STOPS. 199 
 
 "If he succeeds in subduing Genius, I, for one, 
 will not hereafter speak disparagingly of the devil," 
 said Mr. Stanwood, settling himself in an armchair. 
 It was rather difficult for Mr. Stanwood to remem 
 ber the names of all the sinners who came to live 
 under his roof, and he was apt to invent cognomens 
 of his own. He had called Tibbie "Genius," from 
 her first appearance. While he was adjusting his 
 spectacles and deciding what to read in the evening 
 paper, he continued: "If she stays long enough and 
 I get an introduction to the Old Gentleman, I 11 
 take off my hat to him and his family. And, who 
 knows? In time, Debby, I may induce him, for thy 
 sake, to go to the Convicts Refuge, and if I can be 
 spry enough, I 11 nab some of the imps for the 
 Juveniles House of Correction! If Genius doesn t 
 suddenly blaze and disappear up the chimney in 
 a cloud of sulphur, with the whole legion after 
 her!" 
 
 Mrs. Stanwood smiled benignly and only said, "I 
 don t believe the poor child is possessed of m,ore 
 than seven, and I think Franz can manage those." 
 
 So, the contending difficulties in Tibbie s disposi 
 tion were openly acknowledged at the outset, and it 
 was hoped that this united attack would result in 
 victory over them. 
 
 For a little while her music lessons went on 
 smoothly and Mr. Kreutsohn did not come upon 
 any serious snags. The first flash of powder which 
 surprised him was the resentment which she showed 
 one day, when he pointed out certain defects in her 
 singing. She had been so flattered and commended 
 
200 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 in the drawing-rooms where she had sung, that, at 
 first, she did not understand how her singing could 
 be found fault with. She thought that, at least, 
 was free from blemish, and she rebelled. Her eyes 
 snapped and she cried out a medley of things which 
 people had told her, asserting as a climax, "and 
 even those Eiverstons said I sang Home, Sweet 
 Home better than Jenny Lind! " 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Kreutsohn, with appar 
 ent gratification, "I am glad you tell that to 
 me! That makes me change my mind a/togedder! 
 Tibbie, my child, you have sung too much for this 
 time. I call for you to-morrow morning and we go 
 to the church at eight o clock. It is with my fine, 
 great organ you must have a lesson in music to-mor 
 row." 
 
 Tibbie thought he had recovered his better judg 
 ment and was delighted. She went home sniffing 
 the fine, cool air, like a spirited horse, and told Ra 
 chel that Professor Kreutsohn had decided the piano 
 was too small an instrument for the accompaniment 
 of her voice, and that he found it necessary to give 
 her lessons in the church, with the organ. "He 
 was quite right about it," she said, "for his parlor 
 was also too small; her voice was stifled in it." 
 Rachel wondered what "Uncle Franz " was up to. 
 
 "Wait a little!" Mr. Kreutsohn said comically, 
 the next morning at the Stan woods , while Tibbie 
 was putting on her things upstairs. "I have seen 
 just one little tevil ; I show him some fireworks 
 pretty soon! " 
 
 Tibbie was all impatience. Her feet almost 
 
TIBBIE LEAENS ABOUT ORGAN STOPS. 201 
 
 danced along the pavements. When they reached 
 the church she threw ~off her bonnet and wraps, and 
 was not quiet until the sexton was ready at the bel 
 lows and the musician seated at the organ. 
 
 Mr. Kreutsohn looked at her for a moment as she 
 stood there, in the gallery, her restless hands on the 
 railing, and her face in the full light of the stained- 
 glass window. Her glittering eyes and parted lips 
 looked daring; her whole face was kindled with 
 young confidence. What shall I sing? " she asked, 
 as if her power were infinite. 
 
 "Poor child!" said the musician to himself. 
 Aloud he said, motioning her to a chair beside him, 
 "Wait! Sit here and we will try to understand, 
 each the other, first. Know a little the noble in 
 strument which is going to help you." He let his 
 fingers wander over the keys, blending harmonies 
 for a few moments. Then, as he caught Tibbie s 
 listening ear, he stopped and said, - 
 
 "Tell me again about those friends who told you 
 how beautiful you sing; better than the great Miss 
 Lind. What is the name you give me?" 
 
 "Riverston," said Tibbie. 
 
 "Oh yes, Riverston," he said, as if he was glad 
 to remember it. "I am so glad to know about those 
 people, because I am sure they always told you only 
 the truth. They must have told you a great many 
 nice things. And you love them so, that you believe 
 all those nice things they tell you. That is right, 
 my child. You must believe in those Riverston 
 friends. You do right to think they tell only the 
 truth, and you think they know more than " 
 
202 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Tibbie flared. The name of Riverston acted as a 
 match to gunpowder and she fired mad little sen 
 tences, like shot, at Mr. Kreutsohn. "No, I don t! 
 They are not my friends ! They promised to give 
 me a master to teach me ! They broke their word, 
 the word they gave me! They told lies! I will 
 never believe any of them any more! " 
 
 "Only when they tell you that you sing better 
 than the greatest singer in the world? You will be 
 lieve everybody who tells that to you, no matter 
 how bad they are! " Mr. Kreutsohn exclaimed. 
 
 Tibbie hung her head. 
 
 "And if those people think that, why should 
 they get a master for you?" he continued gently. 
 "What can you learn if you know already every 
 thing? If you sing only one little song best in all 
 the world, then you know more than a master. It 
 is I, my child, will ask you to be good and to teach 
 me, for much I want to learn." 
 
 "Oh, no, no! " exclaimed Tibbie, her mood veer 
 ing into one of passionate humility. "I am not 
 good, and I do want to learn. I don t believe what 
 anybody tells me, only you, only you! " 
 
 Tibbie s emotional temperament made it possible 
 for her to work up a panic in any direction, among 
 the virtues as well as among the vices of her nature. 
 The patient, wise musician played upon Tibbie s 
 moods as skillfully as upon his instrument, wrestled 
 with her ignorance, and for this time came off best. 
 At the close of half an hour he was explaining the 
 organ stops and giving her a lesson in self -control 
 in a way she could best appreciate. One after an- 
 
TIBBIE LEARNS ABOUT ORGAN STOPS. 
 
 other, he pulled out the stops and described their 
 uses to suit his purpose. 
 
 "This is a wavering, trembling one," he said, 
 pulling out the tremolo. "Hear the notes, how 
 they shake and tear your nerves in little pieces. 
 You could let this stop that has got the palsy say it 
 for you when you feel weak and cross. Play with 
 that stop when you think about people that you 
 can t be sure of. But you can t stand it long, and 
 that is a good thing, because those thoughts are 
 bad. But here is a stop that is more kind. It 
 talks to you with a child-voice, like the little Lisbeth 
 with the pure heart. Listen much to that stop. 
 And to this other one, which is like the voice of some 
 person in a trouble ; in a trouble that is sad. It 
 calls to you for help and your heart tells you that 
 you must give it. And here is the strong child- 
 voice, like the little brother Dick when he is gay 
 and he wants you to feel joy too ! And now, lis 
 ten hard as you can now, Tibbie, my child, here 
 is the great stop, the open diapason ! Hear how it 
 is strong, like a noble orchestra, with the sound 
 pure and grand! That is like the voices of those 
 friends who stand by you with great hearts; the 
 friends who can t speak but you know what they 
 say is truth, and the word they give you is like a 
 rock which can t move." 
 
 Mr. Kreutsohn was improvising wonderfully, 
 while he worked upon the girl s feelings, and Tibbie 
 heard music as she had never heard it before. 
 
 As the hour drew to a close Mr. Kreutsohn said, 
 with his way of suddenly beginning upon a new 
 
204 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 point, " Come ! Before we go away, look where we 
 are." He left his seat to stand with Tibbie for a 
 moment by the choir railing. " See the roof, how 
 high it is ! The shadows are almost black in the 
 corners. Look at the colors in the glass windows, 
 how they shine before the darkness, like rainbows. 
 See how they come from that window and shine on 
 the altar and where the people kneel to lay down 
 their troubles. See how many seats in every place 
 where people come to call the good God Father! 
 I will play once more the organ now, and you will 
 sing out of the fullest and best heart what you have 
 here, my child," touching her breast. "I will call 
 out all those voices to help you, and you shall sing 
 the best you have to offer to the good God." 
 
 He played an opening prelude, and Tibbie, with 
 a better look upon her face, sang with her whole 
 soul, "I know that my Eedeemer liveth." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TIBBIE AND HAVILAH. 
 
 THE course pursued by Mr. Suydan in his effort 
 to recover his three slaves was, in the estimation of 
 those acquainted with it, blundering and incompre 
 hensible. 
 
 After discovering the presence of Havilah in Nel 
 son Hall, instead of betraying himself, why had he 
 not kept up a silent watch and surprised everybody 
 by having her arrested as she left the building ? It 
 would seem an easy matter. Delphina seemed to 
 be right when she declared that he was not clever 
 enough to manage such business. It was very cer 
 tain that he was "bossing his own job," and his 
 stupidity and hot temper combined were leading him 
 to make a botch of it. After his failure at the fair, 
 he created a little flurry by appearing at a few 
 places with a constable and a warrant for the arrest 
 of Delphina, the least valuable of the three slaves, 
 but he stopped entirely his search for Havilah and 
 her child. He not only stopped it, but was dull (or 
 cunning) enough to let the abolitionists know that 
 he had done so. At the Norrises , one of the places 
 where he went in search of Delphina, he announced 
 that he was "closing up business in New York," 
 and that his intention was "to go to Mississippi and 
 
206 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 stay there." Napoleon, a light mulatto employed in 
 the service of the Anti-Slavery Standard office, kept a 
 vigilant watch of his movements and announced, 
 within a week of Christmas time, that he had 
 bought a ticket for Wilmington, Delaware, and had 
 taken a train at the Jersey City station. Neverthe 
 less, it was assumed that he might return at any 
 time, or that others, perhaps more competent than 
 he was, were left in charge of his business. The 
 greatest caution, therefore, was still observed by the 
 protectors of the fugitives. Delphina, in spite of 
 her objections, was sent to live with a Quaker fam 
 ily on a farm far up on the Hudson ; Havilah re 
 mained at Friend Holly s, where William Hedges 
 had taken her for refuge, until February. By that 
 time, as there were still no indications of activity on 
 the part of her pursuer, it was considered safe to 
 allow her and her child to be together again, and 
 they returned to the Stan woods , where a new crisis 
 made her services particularly welcome. 
 
 Aunt Peggy was going to be married ! Havilah 
 was summoned to assist in the preparations for the 
 wedding and was to serve afterwards as Peggy s 
 successor in the kitchen. Until the wonderful 
 event, Peggy refused to give up her dominion to 
 anybody and was doing double duty. She declared 
 that "nobuddy, white, nor black, from de color of 
 de bes New Orleans molasses to de milk-white skin 
 of little Sis Betty, wan t gwine to fin no clear in 
 nor scrubbin to do after her! " 
 
 Peggy had been a slave all her life until within 
 about three years. Her last owner had been a 
 
TIBBIE AND HAVILAH. 207 
 
 widow lady of moderate wealth, whose name was 
 Pettimore, and who lived on her estate in North 
 Carolina. She was a kind mistress, owned only a 
 few slaves and those were devoted to her. During 
 her life nothing would have tempted any one of 
 them to leave her, and they served her with the 
 greatest fidelity. At her death she bequeathed to 
 each of them a piece of furniture, a plot of ground, 
 and F ree dom ! The law of the State forbade slaves 
 to own property, so Mrs. Pettimore s did not re 
 ceive their furniture or land. The State could not 
 deny them their liberty, but it could make the pos 
 session of it a martyrdom, and they therefore came 
 North, destitute, but free. 
 
 There was not a murmur of regret among them 
 because they were denied the furniture or the land. 
 Peggy obtained something, however, which she val 
 ued far more, a lock of her mistress s hair. She 
 put it into a little silk bag and wore it, hung around 
 her neck, as long as she lived. But when she came 
 away from North Carolina she left, living on a 
 neighboring plantation, and the property of a hard 
 master, Scipio Franklin, her life-long friend and 
 lover, and without Scipio, there was no joy in lib 
 erty for Peggy, that is, until the opportunity 
 came when she could work for Scipio s freedom 
 also. When she found herself earning wages and 
 storing them up for the purchase of her lover, she 
 enjoyed her first taste of independence. 
 
 Scipio s master was a dissipated man who was al 
 ways getting into money difficulties. He allowed 
 his slaves to earn money, in extra hours, for the 
 
208 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 purchase of themselves, but his deliverance of the 
 goods thus bought was always a long way ahead, if 
 not doubtful altogether. He was always pinched 
 for money, and the installments brought in by the 
 purchasers were timely. He could also arrange the 
 bargains to suit his own convenience ; as soon as the 
 chattel was paid for, he could add a hundred dollars 
 or so to the price of it. Scipio had been buying 
 himself in this way for the past ten years, and the 
 goal he aimed for had been kept just a little ahead 
 of him. After Peggy had been working at the 
 Stanwoods for a year, however, a successful trap 
 in which to catch and bind Scipio s master to his 
 bargain was laid by Mr. Stanwood. Peggy s sav 
 ings and a hundred dollars beside were forwarded 
 to Scipio just when he was about to pay the last of 
 the sum required of him. As he expected, his mas 
 ter refused to allow him to conclude the purchase 
 without the payment of another hundred dollars. 
 Scipio offered him a hundred and fifty on the spot, 
 if he would make out his free papers then and there. 
 The Carolinian was in need of ready money, and 
 the bargain was concluded. 
 
 Scipio came North, worked out that extra hundred 
 dollars, principal and interest, with the rich aboli 
 tionist who, on good security, had loaned it to Mr. 
 Stanwood. He earned enough more to set him 
 self up as a peddler of coal and kindling wood, and 
 was at last going to be married to Peggy, in the 
 Stanwoods parlor, and to take her to a home of 
 their own to live. Their youth was gone, middle 
 age was come, but a new life was to begin for them. 
 
TIBBIE AND HAVILAH. 209 
 
 On the outskirts of Brooklyn, in a place called 
 Gowanus, a little wooden shanty and plot of ground 
 had been leased for them. The house was furnished 
 with contributions from a few families, of pieces of 
 furniture or gifts in one form or another, and Peggy 
 was going to add to the income from the peddling 
 business by taking in washing. 
 
 So the new crisis at the Stanwoods was a cheer 
 ful one. 
 
 Everybody was interested in Scipio and Peggy. 
 But for the restraint which Mrs. Stanwood and 
 Eachel put upon her, Grace Desborough would have 
 supplied a whole trousseau for the bride. She felt 
 abused at having her contributions limited to the 
 wedding gown and a few ornaments for the parlor 
 of the little cottage. Another wedding gown was 
 offered for Peggy, but was rejected. Tibbie Mac- 
 Clare pleaded to be allowed to present Peggy with 
 that silk gown of hers which she had worn on her 
 first appearance at the Stanwoods , and which was 
 made from one of Mrs. Riverston s. Rachel was a 
 good deal touched by Tibbie s generosity, praised 
 her for it, and told all the girls about it with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Rachel knew that Tibbie despised the dress for 
 her own use, but it was all she had to offer and her 
 wish to give it was a sign of grace which ought to be 
 appreciated. 
 
 Tibbie took all the commendation she could get, 
 and did not think it was at all necessary to explain 
 to Miss Stanwood that it was not generosity which 
 prompted her, but a contempt for Mrs. Riverston s 
 
210 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 cast-off finery, and the pleasure she Tibbie - 
 would enjoy in seeing it on "an old darkey." The 
 Riverston impressions of the colored race were 
 taken from Christie s Minstrels, and "darkey" 
 was a familiar appellation to Tibbie. 
 
 Tibbie intimated confidentially to Havilah that 
 her pleasure would be complete if Mrs. Riverston. 
 and her daughter could be invited to the wedding 
 and see Peggy in that gown! Tibbie enjoyed com 
 municating these feelings to Havilah, between whom 
 and herself there was no love lost. 
 
 In the heat of her bitterness against the Riverston 
 family and their fashionable friends, and the relief 
 of finding herself in another atmosphere, at the 
 Stanwoods , Tibbie for a little while sailed along 
 the current of abolitionism with great enjoyment. 
 Aunt Peggy cosseted her, Havilah altered the 
 clothes which were given to her so that they fitted 
 and were becoming, and Delphina afforded her 
 inexhaustible entertainment. Even little Diana 
 picked up her spools when she dropped them, and 
 waited upon her in various ways. But, as the weeks 
 went by and the novelty wore away, her attitude 
 toward the colored people began to change, and, as 
 it was impossible for her to be moderate in any 
 thing, she very soon veered around to the opposite 
 extreme. She grew tired of seeing the constant 
 watchfulness and solicitude which the wrongs of the 
 negroes occasioned. It seemed to her that they 
 were protected and petted just because of their color. 
 She was the only white servant in the house, and 
 the others were always being held up to her as the 
 
TIBBIE AND HAVILAIL 211 
 
 ones to be favored. Everything done for them went 
 into the balance and counted as an omission in the 
 treatment of herself. It nettled her to see Miss 
 Stanwood and Miss Morton sewing for dear life on 
 Peggy s wedding gown, and everybody, down to 
 Betty and Richard, doing something for "the stupid 
 old woman." It irritated her especially to see Betty 
 sit patiently by Havilah, learning how to make 
 Peggy an apron, spending hours at the long seams 
 and hem which Tibbie knew would ordinarily be irk 
 some to the child. "And she d hate them now, if 
 the person she s working for wasn t as black as a 
 coal! " Tibbie said. But she would have said much 
 more about it, if she had guessed at the child s 
 thoughts. Betty sat on her little outgrown chair, 
 got stuck between its arms, and lifted it with her 
 whenever she got up for a change ; stitched patiently 
 and dreamed dreams of Peggy in a bridal veil, and 
 herself as bridesmaid, with a wreath of flowers on 
 her head and pink satin slippers on her feet. Rich 
 ard came along, now and then, to measure the prog 
 ress of her work with a folding ruler which he kept 
 in his pocket for the purpose. He added a drop of 
 bitterness to Tibbie s cup by confiding to her that 
 his father and he had a delightful mystery about 
 something which they were going to take over to 
 Aunt Peggy s after the wedding. "She and Uncle 
 Scipio are going to have a house-warming, you 
 know, Tibbie," he whispered, "and I guess you ll 
 be invited." 
 
 Poor Tibbie had little cups of mild bitterness like 
 this offered her from all sides. 
 
212 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Eachel, under the delusion that Tibbie desired to 
 be of service to Peggy, took her over to Gowanus 
 one day and worked her pretty hard at the righting 
 and furbishing of the little shanty. Tibbie deserved 
 considerable credit that day for keeping her feelings 
 to herself. She had to carry in her lap, all the way 
 from Mr. Stanwood s to Gowanus, a large plaster 
 bust of the Venus de Medici, done up in one of the 
 trundle-bed sheets. It was one of the wedding gifts 
 from Grace Desborough, and Eachel was interested 
 in its being a surprise to Peggy. It was heavy and 
 awkward to carry, and Tibbie would have liked much 
 to see it roll over the ferry-boat railing and make a 
 splash in the water. But she carried it safely, did 
 Rachel s bidding at the cottage, and kept her feel 
 ings bottled up until she got home. She gave vent 
 to them, for the benefit of Havilah and Peggy, in 
 the evening, when they all sat at work around the 
 table, in the front basement. 
 
 Tibbie s little pointed nose was high in air, and 
 her head tossed loftily, while she remarked upon the 
 shanty as being all that was required for the couple 
 who were to occupy it. But of course, " when she 
 was married, a very different place would be pro 
 vided for her. She would be a great lady then, 
 with plenty of silk dresses of her own, and laces, 
 and feathers, and the like. There was a great deal 
 of this talk to which Havilah and Peggy appeared 
 indifferent for a time. Peggy tried once to make 
 a diversion by asking Tibbie if she would not like 
 Havilah to read something aloud, but she struck the 
 wrong note. 
 
TIBBIE AND HAVILAH. 213 
 
 "No, I wouldn t," Tibbie answered with deci 
 sion. "Let those it suits hear your tiresome Deu 
 teronomy chapter, it has nae fitness for me." 
 Then she added, with a chuckle, "I d have liked 
 well, though, if the curses in it had lighted on that 
 white woman s head I carried in my arms this day! 
 When you go to your hame, Peggy, look up at her 
 on the shelf, and just think she d speak them all, 
 if I had my wish, for the dead weight she was on 
 my hands." 
 
 To do her justice, Tibbie wanted the curses for 
 Venus, not for Peggy. She returned to her visions 
 of future glory for herself. "She d have no such 
 things as that in her house; she would have " etc., 
 etc. 
 
 Peggy succeeded this time in making a diversion 
 by asking where the house was to be, and who was 
 to give it her. 
 
 "Oh," said Tibbie gayly, "It ll be where I like 
 to have it, and I 11 have my choice amang a great 
 many who 11 be glad enough to give it to me. Miss 
 Jenny Lind is not the only one who can have crowds 
 running to follow her, to heap their favors upon her, 
 and to feel as if a smile or a word from her was 
 equal to a golden crown ! No, indeed ! Wait only 
 a little while ! It 11 be shortly now before I 11 be 
 singing on the stage myself, and I 11 not be doing 
 it long before I 11 be a fine lady, you 11 see. And 
 I 11 have my fine house and a great many servants 
 then. And perhaps I 11 have you for one of them, 
 Havilah. I will pay you better wages than you get 
 here, and you shall dress my hair for concerts and 
 
214 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 the opera. And I 11 not mind having the child 
 along; I could soon train Diana to " 
 
 "And that will never be!" cried Havilah, snap 
 ping her thread and flashing a quick, angry glance 
 at Tibbie across the table. "I would rather see 
 Diana beg in the streets than in your power, and 
 for myself, I would return to slavery before I would 
 serve under you ! The time " 
 
 Tibbie s laughter drowned the rest of what Hav 
 ilah said, and when it stopped, Peggy was looking 
 over her heavy spectacles and saying mildly, "Tsh! 
 tsh! dah ain t no kin o hawm in lowin de chile 
 to conjeh! Let her do it, Hab lah, an when Scip 
 an me gets to wuk, we 11 sabe up all de money we 
 ken in one o Scip s ole stockin s, an den, mebby 
 some night, Hab lah, we ken take you an Di to de 
 opera! " 
 
 From this time forward the antagonism between 
 Tibbie and Havilah increased. Tibbie dwelt more 
 and more upon her glorious future, when she was 
 to eclipse Jenny Lind, and to have everybody at her 
 feet. The more she dwelt upon these prospects 
 the more she believed in them, and as she pictured 
 herself higher and grander in station, Havilah s 
 condition in life seemed to her lower and more de 
 graded. 
 
 "You were born in slavery and you belong there," 
 she would say. "You got away from it only be 
 cause you cheated your master. Some day you 11 
 get back to him, you and your child, because 
 that is your rightful place. / was born to be a 
 great singer, and I belong on the stage, where I can 
 
TIBBIE AND HAVILAH. 215 
 
 stand and look at the crowds of people who come to 
 bow down to me." 
 
 This was Tibbie s faith, planted long ago in her 
 heart, and flowering now in her resentment at be 
 ing, as she thought, set aside, to make way for all 
 these people of a lower order. Mr. Stanwood would 
 have said that Tibbie s "familiars " pressed her hard 
 these days. Had her benefactors suspected what 
 was brewing in her mind, their genius might have 
 devised some means of help for her; had the pa 
 tience of Havilah been drilled in a school any less 
 hard than slavery, it might have given way and be 
 trayed the evil that was growing. But Havilah and 
 Pe^oy could endure to the end rather than allow 
 
 OO*/ 
 
 the storm to reach those to whom they were bound 
 by every tie of gratitude. 
 
 One day, however, when Tibbie and Havilah were 
 sewing in a room together, an incident occurred 
 which altered the situation considerably. Diana 
 turned upon Tibbie and refused to obey one of her 
 peremptory orders. Tibbie made a sudden dash at 
 her and struck her a heavy blow. Instantly Havi 
 lah s hand was upon Tibbie s arm with a grasp of 
 iron. Havilah s face was livid with rage, and her 
 black eyes flamed. Her figure erect, one arm 
 raised, she looked, in her fury, like an Amazon 
 ready to fell an enemy. For once in her life Tibbie 
 was frightened. She gave a suppressed cry of gen 
 uine alarm and cowered in terror lest Havilah s arm 
 was going to fall. 
 
 Havilah flung her away with the strength of de 
 lirium. Tibbie reeled, and, catching at a chair for 
 
216 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 support, turned to see what Havilah was going to do 
 next. Havilah stood motionless, looking full into 
 the Scotch girl s face. She waited for a feAv quick 
 breaths, and then said in an unnatural, hard voice, 
 "You will never do that again." She paused. 
 Tibbie whispered "No!" In a moment Havilah 
 said, in the same voice, "I have brought that child 
 away from blows; I have brought her away from 
 slavery. I risked my life and hers to do it. 
 She shall not see what I have seen. You had better 
 go to the South, if you want to do such things. 
 You cannot do them here." 
 
 She said no more, but there was something behind 
 her silence which was more fearful than any words 
 she could have spoken. 
 
 After that Tibbie was afraid of Havilah and her 
 dislike was greater in consequence. But her fear 
 caused an interim in her teasing, irritating ways, 
 and things went more smoothly. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DEUTERONOMY XXVIII. 
 
 THERE were two hitches in Peggy s preparations 
 for her wedding. The first was a stop in her mind 
 on the subject of Grace Desborough. To Peggy 
 Grace represented all the aristocracy worthy of rep 
 resentation in the city of New York. In the glow 
 of her bountiful gifts, Peggy had invited her to both 
 the wedding and the house-warming afterwards, and 
 now, as the occasions were almost at hand, Grace s 
 acceptance of the invitations overwhelmed her with 
 trepidation. 
 
 "Hadn t orter done it, no kind o way in dis yer 
 world," she said to Rachel, on the morning before 
 the wedding. "I s done skeered outen my min so 
 dat I s sp iled de batch o cake on y jes dis minnit, 
 puttin in de sody twiste. Can t it be tuk back, 
 Miss Raychel, in some kind o way dat s hand 
 some? Ef t ain t, eberyting 11 go wrong an dey 
 ain t no tellin what 11 get into de vittles." 
 
 Rachel soothed Peggy s feelings and pleaded for 
 Grace s invitations to stand. Peggy yielded first 
 as regarded the wedding. "She can come to dat," 
 she said, " cose dey won t be no cookin to spile, 
 an dey ain t nuffin but de sarramony an de chap 
 ter. I ain t got dem fixed up jes right yet, but 
 
218 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 de minister s comin to-night an den it 11 be sat- 
 tled." 
 
 But it was more difficult to reconcile Peggy to 
 leaving her invitation to the house-warming undis 
 turbed. 
 
 "I want Miss Desborough to see how nice her 
 china looks in the cupboard, Aunt Peggy, and the 
 armchairs she sent for Uncle Scipio and thee, and 
 there is another beautiful thing on the high shelf in 
 the corner; when thee sees that" 
 
 Peggy knew she meant Venus, and after Tibbie s 
 description of the "white woman s head," she had 
 no desire to see it at all. But she had no notion of 
 disappointing either Rachel or Grace by owning up 
 to her prejudices. So she skipped at once to the 
 subject of the house-warming and said, "I feel jes 
 as if de bes angel dat de Lawd s got, mongst de 
 hull crowd, was comin to dinner dat day, an de 
 Lawd hisself knows I can t cook nuffin to suit dat 
 kin o cump ny!" 
 
 "Now, Aunt Peggy!" said Rachel. "As if I 
 didn t know what kind of a dinner thee can get up! 
 If thee only wouldn t take so much trouble and 
 could bring thy mind to having a simple one, no 
 thing would please Miss Desborough more." 
 
 "She hadn t ought to be dar, Miss Raychel," 
 Peggy insisted. "Yo jes t ink bout Scip! 
 What 11 he do ? How ebber is he gwine to know 
 how to ask Miss Desbrum ef she s hade nough, or 
 ef she wants anudder slice aff de j int? He can t 
 do it! De pore ole man 11 jes set an sweat. Oh, 
 Lawd A mighty, Miss Raychel, it s a heap o wuk 
 
DEUTERONOMY XXVIII. 219 
 
 gettin mahriecl! I s powerful glad we ain t got it 
 to do on y dis once. An dat s a mighty comforta 
 ble thing what de Bible says how dey don t do it 
 inheab n!" 
 
 But Peggy gave way, because of the difficulty of 
 recalling her invitation in a handsome enough mes 
 sage. 
 
 The other hitch in the proceedings was in the ar 
 rangement of the marriage ceremony. Peggy had 
 certain views in regard to it which did not har 
 monize with those of the Rev. Alonzo Peters, the 
 minister who was to officiate. Peggy wanted her 
 beloved chapter from Deuteronomy read at her wed 
 ding, and the Rev. Alonzo Peters objected. The 
 more he argued, the more set was Peggy. Scipio 
 was referred to, and the whole question was discussed 
 at length by the three in the kitchen, on the evening 
 before the wedding. Scipio was a patient man, and 
 listened for some time to all that Mr. Peters had to 
 say without replying. He looked occasionally at 
 Peggy, who sat like a graven image and smiled back 
 at him, placidly immovable. Once Scipio s face 
 lighted up as he thought of something which he was 
 sure would satisfy both parties, and he suggested 
 that Mr. Stanwood should read the chapter, before 
 the company arrived, to Peggy and himself. Peggy 
 looked at him reproachfully and said that, accord 
 ing to the "strick law" of the church, it must be 
 read by a minister of the gospel. Mr. Peters 
 offered to read it himself, at the time Scipio had 
 suggested, but Peggy would have it form a part of 
 the ceremony, for the benefit of everybody present. 
 
220 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 So Scipio smiled at the Eev. Mr. Peters, and 
 asked him if he wouldn t please be so kind as to 
 make it conform with his conscience to satisfy the 
 bride. 
 
 But Mr. Peters was not at all sure that the Lord 
 would be satisfied by the insertion of the twenty- 
 eighth chapter of Deuteronomy into the marriage 
 service. 
 
 "It was Moses who preached that sermon," he 
 argued, "and what, in the whole world of reason 
 and ecclesiastics, has Moses got to do with the mar 
 riage service? I haven t anything prejudicial to 
 sav against the sermon; it s all right, in its place. 
 But it was preached to the people of Israel because 
 it was just what those people needed at that particu 
 lar time; and it hasn t got anything at all to do 
 with this present generation, especially on those 
 occasions when people are going to be united in the 
 bonds of holy matrimony. It don t belong there, 
 and it ain t ecclesiastical to put it there." 
 
 Mr. Peters might as well have talked to a gate 
 post as to Peggy. 
 
 "Ef t ain t clesiastic, t ain t de fault ob de 
 Lawd," she answered. "He commanded Moses to 
 say ebry word ob dat chapter, an He meant it fur 
 to be handed down fum generation to generation. 
 Moses did his duty, an ef de ministers ob dis day 
 don t do dere duty, t ain t no fault ob hisn." 
 
 "Dat s all berry true, Peggy, an yo knows I m 
 willin to gree to it," said Scipio, getting his hand 
 kerchief out of his coat-tail pocket. He was getting 
 into a perspiration, in his effort to make the two 
 
DEUTERONOMY XXVIII. 221 
 
 agree. "Yo knows, Peggy, dat I cepted dat ar 
 chapteh long time ago, when yore ole missus was 
 live, an yo used to get her to read it loud to us 
 Sunday arternoons, when I used to get away fum de 
 quarters an go courtin yo . Yo knows dat I went 
 so fur dat I tuk it all back dat time when I hade 
 anudder subjeck what I wanted spressly to talk 
 bout, an I made de s gestion dat some ob dose 
 cussiiT passages mought be omitted. I tuk it all 
 ba-a-ck, cose yo convinced me in dat argyment dat 
 de words ob de Lawd " Scipio raised his voice 
 when he said " ba-a-ck," and still more at "Lawd," 
 to ward off an interruption from Peggy, who sat 
 very upright, with her hands folded over her apron- 
 belt, and her eyes fixed on him. He went on, 
 "Cose it was de Lawd speakin froo de mouf ob 
 Moses, yo convinced me dat de wuds ob de Lawd 
 could n t nebba be cut off, nor lef out, thout blas- 
 phemin ob jes de berry wust kind. So," lowering 
 his tone again as Peggy nodded approval, "yo 
 knows dat I cepted dat twenty-eighth chapter ob 
 Duty-roun me, clean down to de groun ." 
 
 Peggy nodded blandly to Mr. Peters, in appre 
 ciation of Scipio s condition of grace. 
 
 Scipio was well satisfied with his preamble, but 
 he had his doubts as to Peggy s acceptance of the 
 subject proper of what he had to say. He knew he 
 was going to be interrupted now, so he hurried over 
 the rest, speaking faster and louder as he went 
 along. "But eben takin all dat into de account, 
 does you b lieve ser ous dat de Lawd d keer berry 
 much ef we was married thout dat chapter, seem 
 
222 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 dat we is quainted puffickly wid it, an dat dey 
 ain t no udder weddin s in de known land dat has 
 ebber brung it into use, fum de time ob Moses 
 to de time ob Mr. Lonzo Peters at de present 
 day?" 
 
 It took great skill, but Scipio got this all said be 
 fore Peggy struck in. 
 
 u Yes, I do! Yes, I do!" she cried, with great 
 earnestness, "an it s fur dat berry cose dat we 
 oughter hoi ourselves strick." She and Scipio 
 were talking a duet, for he was calling out, "I ain t 
 makin no contrairy objections, I s askin yore 
 pinion, Peggy, nuffin mo ." 
 
 "De Lawd, He mean dat chapteh fur de Letter 
 ob de Law," Peggy was saying, when Scipio lis 
 tened again. 
 
 Peggy s eyes were filmy as she went on in her 
 gentle voice, 
 
 "Don t we see, plainer dan de sunlight ob 
 heab m, dat de ten comman ments ain t nowhars 
 long side ob it? Dey counts on y ten, an de 
 twenty-eighth chapter of Dutyronomy counts sixty- 
 eight! An dere dey is, all de blessin s an de 
 cussin s fur eberyting yo do, right an wrong, an 
 yo can t help knowin what yo 11 git, eider way. 
 Scip," she turned to him and said solemnly, "Yo 
 an me is gwine to start out togedder in a new kin 
 o life, in de on y home we s ebber had, an ef we 
 want to be spared dose cussin s fallin down on de 
 roof ober our heads, we d better hoi on tight to 
 de twenty-eighth chapter ob Dutyronomy! " 
 
 "Don say no mo ! Don say anoder word, 
 
DEUTEltONOMY XX VIII. 223 
 
 Peggy," said Scipio, with his mind fully made up. 
 Then, turning to Mr. Peters, he said, "When dey 
 is a conscious principle in de question, it ain t right 
 to bear down on dat pusson wid argyments what is 
 likely to or which might be terpreted as such, 
 or to pear to uphol any doctrine, or to what- 
 somedever! " 
 
 "No!" said Peggy, "an yo s hit it right dah, 
 Scip." 
 
 Scipio was glad he had, and wiped the perspira 
 tion from his neck, where it threatened to injure the 
 starch in his shirt collar. 
 
 So the wedding took place at the appointed time, 
 and the ceremony was gotten through with satisfac 
 torily. 
 
 The Rev. Alonzo Peters, whose objections to the 
 selection from the Scriptures still remained, had 
 several opportunities to skip passages in the long 
 chapter, owing to the fact that the bride s mind was 
 occupied with fitting sins and sinners together, as 
 her eyes fell upon one and another of the people 
 present. Mentally she bestowed all the blessings, 
 collectively, upon the family of Stan wood, Grace 
 Desborough, and William Hedges. 
 
 "When de time comes fur dem to pass froo de 
 Gates, dey 11 be chairs wid golden letters on de 
 back all ready for em. Dey 11 be swallered up in 
 glory, clean to de mouves, and den dey won t hab 
 no chance to pass it roun an gib it all to somebody 
 else, dey 11 hab to drink it! " she thought. But 
 her attention was diverted as soon as the blessings 
 ended and Mr. Peters began the warning words of 
 
224 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 the fifteenth verse: "But it shall come to pass, if 
 thou wilt not hearken unto the voice " 
 
 "Yo jes wait, Sairy Emmyline Sampson," 
 thought Peggy, with her eyes upon a chipper young 
 woman in a gay bonnet, "till he comes to cle yoke 
 ob iron ready for yore neck ! Dat s gwine to fall 
 onto yo , sho , ef yo keeps on spendin all yore hus 
 band s hard yearnin s on yo clo es." 
 
 Mr. Peters was unfortunate just here, and tried 
 skipping from "all these curses shall come upon 
 thee, and overtake thee," to "Cursed shalt thou be 
 when thou comest in," but the bride s eyes lighted 
 upon him and she said solemnly, correcting him: 
 "In de city 1 and sent him back four verses. 
 But her mind wandered again, in a moment or two. 
 "You s dar, in de co ner by de do whar yo thinks 
 de freshments 11 come in bime by, Marse Frederick 
 J. Matterson," she thought, eying an old, white- 
 haired negro. "Yo better listen in a minnit or 
 two, bout how de Lawd s gwine to gib yore sheep 
 to yore enemies! Guess yo better stop grabbin all 
 yo can get, an put sump m in de collection plate 
 next time!" Then came thoughts of one and an 
 other person, upon whose ears the sacred warnings 
 were falling, and she left Mr. Peters to read ad 
 libitum until he tried to make a bold skip, from 
 the fifty-ninth to the sixty-seventh verse. Peggy 
 repeated pointedly, " Den de Lawd 11 make yore 
 plagues won erful," and the minister went back im 
 mediately and finished the chapter without further 
 break. 
 
 When the ceremony was over Scipio had to resort 
 
DEUTERONOMY XXVIIL 225 
 
 to his bandanna, to save his shirt collar from col 
 lapse. 
 
 Grace Desborough was the only person present 
 who did not understand the ways of colored people 
 well enough not to be disturbed by the reading. 
 With her heart full of the wrong of oppression, she 
 thought of the colored race as sufferers and martyrs, 
 and the grotesque element in the present occasion 
 jarred upon her. She wanted the little wedding to 
 be impressive, and was more hurt than amused 
 when Peggy interrupted the minister. She won 
 dered at Will Hedges, when he conducted her to the 
 newly married pair to offer congratulations, because 
 he did not seem disturbed. He only said, "Do you 
 feel as I do, Miss Desborough, as if a special 
 mantle of righteousness had fallen upon you?" 
 
 "It is all so new to me," she said seriously. "I 
 cannot understand." 
 
 u Oh, you will in time," Will said gayly, "there 
 isn t much that is mysterious. Wait until you 
 know Aunt Peggy better. Come with me now, and 
 get her blessing; it is worth having." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 
 
 HORACE and Grace Desborough gratified their 
 parents, for a time, by accepting invitations whole 
 sale. They went to the Graythorn ball, and were 
 light-hearted there. Mrs. Desborough was pleased 
 to discover that the flowers which Miss Graythorn 
 carried all the evening were those which Horace 
 had sent to her, but she was disappointed not to see 
 him more devoted. 
 
 After opening the ball with her, he danced only 
 once with Miss Graythorn, while he was continually 
 running after Grace. 
 
 "As if young men went to balls to dance with 
 their sisters ! " Mrs. Desborough said to her hus 
 band, in the retirement of a bay-window. "Can t 
 you" 
 
 "Oh no, don t! Let them alone, my dear," 
 said Mr. Desborough, who was tired and bored. 
 " Some of the other fellows will be after Grace soon 
 enough ; she is the best-looking girl in the room, by 
 a long shot." 
 
 "I don t know what is the matter with some of 
 the fellows," said Mrs. Desborough. "There is 
 Burton Riverston not dancing at all, and looking as 
 glum as if he was at a funeral." She wanted him 
 
THE AEISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 227 
 
 to be attentive to Grace, but he had scarcely spoken 
 to her. And both Lindsey and Frank Gray thorn 
 were u as dull as owls," she thought, "with their 
 elaborate courtesy to everybody and no marked 
 attentions to any of the girls." She said "any" 
 to herself, but she meant Grace. Mrs. Desborough 
 was not very happy at the Graythorn ball ; none of 
 the young people did what she wanted them to. 
 There were plenty of opportunities for Horace to 
 offer attentions to Miss Graythorn, but he did not 
 avail himself of them. His mother was so annoyed 
 by his allowing them all to be seized by other young 
 men, that she found it difficult to follow what Mrs. 
 Eiverston was telling her about their plan of going 
 abroad next summer, and she scarcely answered with 
 sufficient cordiality that lady s suggestion that she 
 and Grace should join them. 
 
 Her mind always traveled fast, when it once got 
 started. The only response she drew from her hus 
 band, when they reached home, was a criticism upon 
 her over-anxiety, and his opinion that Horace and 
 his sister were doing well enough and had better be 
 left alone. 
 
 Certainly the brother and sister were never more 
 in sympathy with each other or more manageable 
 than they were during these days. They went 
 everywhere and seemed bent upon conforming to 
 their mother s wishes in social matters. If this 
 was the result of giving way to Grace in her anti- 
 slavery whims, both parents agreed that it was most 
 gratifying. 
 
 There was another result which was less satisfac- 
 
228 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 tory. Grace s friendship with the Stan woods was 
 not only more closely cemented, but Horace was 
 drawn into it. He had stopped objecting to the 
 growing intimacy, and instead of resisting Grace, 
 he followed her. He seemed to enjoy going with 
 her to make an evening call at the Stanwoods, or 
 calling for her when she went there to tea occasion 
 ally, and waiting upon her home. 
 
 He was himself getting intimate with William 
 Hedges, took long walks with him, and had him 
 often up in his room, where they seemed to have 
 discussions which interested them both immensely. 
 Horace did not like to be reminded now how he 
 had once made fun of Will, when he had called him 
 "wildly popular." 
 
 Mrs. Desborough called him "a ranting abolition 
 ist," and marveled at his attraction for her son. 
 But face to face with him, when he stopped in the 
 parlor before or after his visits upstairs with Hor 
 ace, Mrs. Desborough thawed in spite of herself. 
 Will carried a passport of his own wherever he 
 went. 
 
 Then, as another result of all that fair business, 
 an interchange of calls had started up between 
 Grace and the Norrises, Mortons, Quimbys, and 
 Bixbys. Mrs. Desborough did not like all this. 
 
 "They seem like nice young people, my dear," 
 said her husband. "I must confess that the only 
 effect I have observed upon Gracie is the remarka 
 ble way in which she has waked up, since we allowed 
 her full swing at that fair. If it is these new ac 
 quaintances who have roused her interest in things, 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 229 
 
 I should recommend leaving them to go on. What 
 harm do you think they do?" 
 
 "I don t know that they do any," said Mrs. Des- 
 borough. "But that isn t the point. The point 
 is, Eobert, who are they? That is what I can t 
 find out. Mrs. River ston asked me the other day 
 where the Stan woods came from, and I was actually 
 mortified because I could not tell her ! She is wor 
 ried to death over Burton, because he is wild about 
 Miss Stan wood. His mother came to me, because 
 somebody had told her that Miss Stanwood was 
 Grace s most intimate friend, and she thought / 
 would be sure to know who they are. But I doii t 
 know, Robert! There it is," patting the table with 
 her palm for emphasis, " I don t know ! " 
 
 Mrs. Desborough set her thin lips together, as she 
 finished, and lifted her chin to her husband with the 
 hitch which seemed to imply that, with this state 
 ment, they came to a dead stop. 
 
 "Well, my dear," said Mr. Desborough, going 
 to the mantelpiece to light a cigar, "you can say 
 they are Quakers. I find that answers for a good 
 deal. That sect, somehow, carries its credentials 
 in its name. And, as I said before, I don t know 
 that they are doing us any harm." 
 
 "Because you don t understand, Robert," said 
 his wife, moving to a chair by the open fire, to 
 warm her feet. "Men never see harm of this kind 
 until it is too late to prevent it, and then they come 
 to us women to cure it. I m not complaining be 
 cause you don t; you can t be expected to." 
 
 Mrs. Desborough enjoyed managing social affairs. 
 
230 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 She was skillful and knew it. In her circle she was 
 often appealed to in questions of prestige and eti 
 quette, and she felt her position to be one of author 
 ity in these matters. She was speaking from her 
 social throne now. 
 
 " We are being dragged into a new set, Bobert, 
 and that is the harm," she said, as if it were a 
 grievous thing. "And I don t know where it is 
 going to lead us. Why, here I am, actually begin 
 ning to receive calls from the mothers of Grace s 
 friends! Mrs. Morton came to see me only this 
 very afternoon, and without any invitation what 
 ever! She said that since our children were 
 No, let me think of her exact words ; they were as 
 prim as her Quaker bonnet. She said, Since a 
 friendly intercourse has sprung up between our 
 children, Father and I thought we had better make 
 the acquaintance of thyself and husband. Taking 
 it all into their own hands, as if " 
 
 Mr. Desborough took his cigar out of his mouth 
 to burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 "It is true! " said his wife, with a dead wall ex 
 pression, as if here was a problem which even she 
 could not solve. "Her very words! Think of a 
 little Quaker woman, all in gray, coming to teach 
 me my social obligations ! " 
 
 Mr. Desborough roared again. 
 
 "It is a sight I am sorry to have missed, my 
 dear," he said. "What encouragement did you 
 give her?" 
 
 "Just as little as would answer for the occasion," 
 she replied promptly. "Plenty, however, for the 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 231 
 
 instruction of anybody but a Quaker. I talked 
 about the many social demands made upon me, 
 the difficulties resulting from widening one s circle, 
 and so on, but law ! I might as well have talked 
 to one of Eloise s dolls! There she sat, smiling at 
 me like an immovable saint, and the more I said, 
 the less she understood. And she went off finally, 
 thanking me for the pleasure her call had given her 
 and saying that she understood how great my obli 
 gations were to the world in which I moved, and 
 that she hoped I would go to see her only at my 
 own convenience! Don t trouble thyself at all, she 
 said; Father and I will call together sometime, 
 when thy husband is likely to be at home. We will 
 be friendly with one another, for our children s 
 sakes. H m! I feel as if I had had a Quaker ser 
 mon preached to me in my own parlor. For our 
 children s sakes! I wish Horace and Grace had 
 never seen one of their children! " 
 
 Mrs. Desborough felt all these things so keenly 
 that she took occasion to present them seriously to 
 Horace. He had grown reticent in expressing his 
 opinions. He had ceased all criticism of his sister s 
 friends. As "a set," he had ridiculed and objected 
 to them, but, as individuals, he had been for two 
 months steadily learning that they were more intel 
 ligent and attractive than most of the people in cir 
 cles to which he was accustomed. When his mother 
 appealed to him to confirm the opinions he expressed 
 in the beginning, he tried to modify them, changed 
 his tone, and bluffed into other subjects. 
 
 Mr. Desborough, too, was beginning to be anx- 
 
232 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ious because of his son s reticence in business mat 
 ters. The case which they had talked much about 
 together had dropped out of their conversations. 
 If Mr. Desborough inquired about it, Horace s an 
 swers were short and indefinite. Perhaps it was 
 only because of other interests. He seemed devoted 
 to Grace, to enjoy taking her about to places, to 
 Mrs. Kemble s readings, to Wallack s, to their 
 parties, and everywhere; it was natural for young 
 people to hobnob with one another, and certainly 
 there was no need to worry because of a young 
 fellow s attentions to his sister. Mr. Desborough 
 wished they would go oftener to the Gray thorns , 
 and wondered if that young Hedges was exerting 
 any undue influence over his son. He decided that 
 he would ask Graythorn a question or two concern 
 ing Horace s work upon that case. 
 
 But there was no manner of use in the resistance 
 of these parents to the natural course of events and 
 its results. There was certainly a revolution going 
 on in the Desborough family, and it was idle to try 
 to check it in its course. 
 
 It was harder than ever for Mrs. Desborough to 
 keep up the proprieties. Even Eloise was giving 
 her trouble, creating a little flurry of her own by 
 announcing that she was invited to go to Peggy s 
 house-warming with Grace, and that she was going. 
 Eloise s method of gaining a point was to claim it 
 at the outset. 
 
 The account which Grace had given of Peggy s 
 wedding was tame beside the one which Betty Stan- 
 wood gave at school. Betty had begun hers at re- 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 233 
 
 cess, on the day before the wedding, by proclaiming 
 to a dozen of her classmates, "I m not coming to 
 school to-morrow; I m going to be a bridesmaid! " 
 Of course the girls had broken into a clatter of 
 exclamations and questions, which brought out the 
 story of Scipio and Peggy from little Betty s point 
 of view. The noses of the other children were well 
 up, but their interest was great, for, beside her 
 powerful imagination, Betty had considerable gift 
 for narrating, and her stories were popular. Eloise 
 Desborough intimated that, when she was a brides 
 maid, the bride would at least be a white one, and 
 rather produced an atmosphere of scorn around 
 Betty. The children looked askance at Betty, but 
 the story was too spicy to be injured by a few airs. 
 So it all came out, down to the details of what dif 
 ferent friends had done toward getting the little 
 house furnished, to the rag carpet for it, made of 
 bits of Stanwood clothes, the flowered cups and 
 saucers, the armchairs for Scipio and Peggy, and 
 the two wooden chairs with their legs shortened to 
 suit the legs of Betty and Dick, who were to occupy 
 them when Scipio should tell them stories. The 
 bust of Venus overtopped everything else, in Betty s 
 description, and was a crowning splendor with 
 which nothing short of the original goddess could 
 compare. In fact, Betty reached so fine a climax 
 with Venus that Eloise was pleased to remark, "My 
 sister gave that," and thereby drew to herself a re 
 flected glory. 
 
 Now Eloise Desborough looked askance at Betty 
 for being on an equality with a degraded race, quite 
 
234 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 as much as any of the girls did, but there was a 
 point beyond which she could not hold out. She 
 had missed one comic performance (the wedding) 
 and she had no intention of missing another one. 
 
 Eloise s little inquisitive nose scented, with re 
 markable subtlety, anything unusual which occurred 
 in the family. Her detection of confidences or mys 
 teries was as remarkable as the scent of an Irish 
 setter in tracing the footsteps of his master. Hor 
 ace had had no conversations concerning his altered 
 views on the subject of slavery and the colored race, 
 excepting with Grace, on that sleigh ride, and with 
 Mr. Hedges, in the privacy of his own room, yet 
 Eloise appealed to him as to the one who would 
 most ably help her to carry her point by gaining 
 permission for her to go to Peggy s and Scipio s 
 house-warming. He persuaded her to consent to a 
 compromise and to go to Scipio s with him, in the 
 brett, which he meant to take to Gowanus in the 
 afternoon for the purpose of driving Grace and Miss 
 Stanwood home. Eloise got more than she bar 
 gained for; Horace provided her with a most unex 
 pected companion, in the person of Havilah s little 
 girl, Diana. 
 
 After that occasion when Tibbie MacClare and 
 Havilah had both lost their tempers over the child, 
 the latter s companionship had been a source of dis 
 comfort, rather than pleasure, to her mother. It 
 was with eagerness, therefore, that Havilah accepted 
 Peggy s offer to take Diana to live with Scipio and 
 herself at Gowanus, for as long a time as Tibbie 
 should remain at Mr. Stanwood s. "An dat won t 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 235 
 
 be forebber, I c otion yo , Hablah," Peggy pre 
 dicted. "Cose Miss Tibbie is made ob de mos 
 dangerous elements, she is, an some day she s 
 gwine to bu st up an go off, like a streak o light- 
 nin . It 11 be powerful good luck, too, if de light- 
 nin don t strike somewhars an make destruction, 
 dat twill!" It was decided that the time of the 
 house-warming would be the most convenient one 
 for the removal of Diana, as Peggy wanted Havi- 
 lah s assistance in making the occasion a success. 
 The child could go with the party, and remain in 
 stead of returning. All knowledge of the friction 
 between Havilah and Tibbie had been kept from 
 Mrs. Stan wood, who readily accepted, as a reason 
 for the change, Havilah s nervousness lest her mas 
 ter might renew his search for her, and a feeling 
 of greater security in having Diana somewhere else 
 than under the same roof with herself. Mrs. Stan- 
 wood agreed to the arrangement without much ques 
 tioning. She fully understood the tendency of ne 
 groes to huddle together, and knew that Havilah 
 would feel Diana s safety better assured among her 
 own people. Havilah s nervous dread of her mas 
 ter s reappearance was so great that she lived on the 
 alert. She expected to see him every time she went 
 into the street, and hence had the strongest objec 
 tion to going anywhere in company with the child. 
 When Horace Desborough was planning the drive 
 home from Scipio s, with the sole object of getting 
 Rachel Stanwood on the seat beside him, he inci 
 dentally discovered Havilah s fears and offered to 
 take little Diana to Gowanus, with Eloise and him- 
 
236 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 self. He had his doubts as to Eloise s acceptance of 
 Diana s company, but but he would have Rachel 
 beside him, all the way home! He would manage 
 Eloise somehow. 
 
 Eloise behaved better than her brother had ex 
 pected her to. In the first place, she was ignorant 
 of the fact that Diana was not a pure-blooded white 
 child. 
 
 "Who is she? And why are we going to take 
 her?" she had asked, but when Horace answered, 
 "I will tell you presently," she was satisfied. And 
 Diana was bewitching, in her delight at being in 
 such a beautiful carriage. As soon as she was 
 seated she looked several times, with a radiant face, 
 back and forth, from Eloise to Horace, and then let 
 out her joy upon them in a laugh that was so happy 
 that it came almost with a sob. Her face had that 
 too-happy expression which touches one sometimes 
 to the quick. Horace knew very little about chil 
 dren, but Diana s wordless gratitude was unmistak 
 able. He put his arm around the little mite and 
 snuggled her closer under the fur robe. Eloise 
 helped him with the child, fastening her cloak more 
 securely, straightening her hood and matronizing 
 her with great satisfaction. By the time that Eloise 
 discovered that the child was a slave, Diana, over 
 come by the motion of the carriage, the fresh air, 
 and too much to look at, was fast asleep with her 
 head flopped over against Horace. 
 
 Horace explained who Diana was, because he 
 wanted Eloise to keep the secret of the child s ref 
 uge. If she was generally selfish, thoughtless, and 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 237 
 
 loved worldliness, Eloise was human. She prom 
 ised to keep the secret and Horace knew that she 
 would. She tried, considerately, too, to move the 
 child to lean against herself, instead of her brother, 
 "I don t see how you can drive with her there," she 
 said. But the child s body was entirely relaxed, 
 and drooped helplessly to Horace s side. 
 
 "Let her stay so, I like it," he said, and along 
 the little-traveled Brooklyn street leading to Gow- 
 anus, where it was easy to drive with one hand, his 
 left hand kept the fur robe in place over little Di. 
 
 The Desborough carriage, stopping at Scipio s 
 dwelling, marked the dwellers therein as aristocracy 
 among the colored population of Gowanus. 
 
 "Sonny," called Scipio, to a very dark little ne 
 gro boy who was peering from the lean-to of a 
 neighboring shanty, "can t yo git somebody to 
 come yer an hoi dese horses?" The boy himself 
 and a dozen others, of all ages and complexions, 
 answered the call, from so many different directions 
 that it seemed as if they had sprung out of the 
 ground. Horace handed sleepy little Di over the 
 wheel to Havilah, and helped Eloise down amid 
 the gaze of a small population. Betty and Dick 
 Stanwood, at the gate to receive them, envied Eloise 
 her grandeur. A dusky population was, to them, 
 perhaps even a little more distinguished than a white 
 one, and they thought Eloise must feel proud of its 
 admiring eyes. But she did not; she was disap 
 pointed. She had expected the cottage to look like 
 the engraving of "My Childhood s Home," which. 
 
238 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Lung in her room, and to have, like the house in 
 the picture, a balcony and trellises, a vine-covered 
 porch, and latticed windows. "Nobody told me it 
 was a shanty," she said to Betty contemptuously. 
 
 "It isn t a shanty! " snapped Betty indignantly, 
 and feeling personally insulted. 
 
 But, from Eloise s point of view, it certainly was, 
 being a one-story wooden building, clapboarded and 
 unpainted, with a lean-to at the back. There were 
 no trees at all and the ground around the house was 
 barren, excepting for stubble. There was a small 
 outbuilding for the accommodation of Scipio s horse 
 and cart. House, shed, and ground were enclosed 
 by a, low board fence. 
 
 Elizabeth and Richard had Eloise s superiority all 
 to themselves, as they conducted her from one to 
 another of the four rooms into which the cottage was 
 divided, showed off Peggy s best china and homely 
 treasures, and, in refutation of the house being called 
 a shanty, made her climb the funny little crooked 
 stairs which led from the parlor to a low attic, 
 under the ridgepole, with the smallest of windows 
 at each end. In common justice to Eloise it could 
 not be denied that the cottage fell far short of the 
 glories of Elizabeth s description at school, and, that 
 fact taken fairly into account, she behaved very well. 
 The hospitality of Scipio and Peggy bore down upon 
 her, too, with its freight of chocolate to drink and de 
 licious cake, of which there were three little loaves, 
 beautifully iced and on funny earthen plates, for the 
 children to take home. Eloise was hungry after her 
 drive, and Peggy s cake and chocolate went to the 
 right spot. 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 239 
 
 To Scipio and Peggy the distinction of receiving 
 Horace was secondary to that of entertaining Grace, 
 and, under the influence of her warm and simple 
 nature, their sense of awe and responsibility had 
 thawed into genuine, hearty pleasure. Horace, al 
 though sensible of an out-of -place feeling, saw the 
 prettiness of the cottage interior, and, in the glow of 
 the open Franklin stove, listening to Mrs. Stan wood 
 drawing out stories of their experiences from Scipio 
 and Peggy, he felt his new interest in the oppressed 
 race grow keener and more real every moment. As 
 Havilah passed a cup of chocolate to Rachel, he no 
 ticed her face. Her skin was no darker than that 
 of many a brunette whom he had known, Miss 
 Gray thorn s, for instance. Her forehead was more 
 intellectual, and, but for that half scowl and the hard 
 lines about her mouth, he would call her handsomer 
 than Miss Gray thorn. In a drawing-room, dressed 
 suitably, she would be pointed out as a remarkably 
 fine-looking woman. She had not the carriage of a 
 lady; that was natural enough, poor thing. How 
 could you expect a woman, hunted as she was, to 
 have any sort of bearing but one of subjection? 
 Following this train of thought, Horace lost track 
 of Scipio s last story and heard only his closing re 
 marks. 
 
 "Dat s so! Dat s de way it ll be, jes as sar- 
 tain as de Day ob Judgment." 
 
 "How will it be? " Horace asked. 
 
 Scipio pointed to an engraving of Ary Schaeffer s 
 "Christus Consolator," over the mantelpiece. He 
 pointed to the figure of the African, with his arms, 
 
240 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 from which broken fetters were falling, outstretched 
 toward the Saviour. 
 
 "Dat-a-way," he said solemnly. "De chains o ? 
 bondage will be broke forebber! " 
 
 Scipio was tuning up. At the South he had been 
 accustomed to speak at prayer-meetings, and, since 
 he had lived in the North, he had taken advantage 
 of the freedom of speech allowed at the semi-public 
 meetings among his people, and often waxed elo 
 quent. The present occasion had progressed and 
 was drawing to a close without any ceremonies ex 
 cepting the blessing which he had asked at the din 
 ner table. Peggy had forborne even to mention 
 Deuteronomy, although her eyes had fixed them 
 selves upon Horace and Eloise as probably ignorant 
 of its gospel. And now Scipio, started up by Mr. 
 Desborough s question, "How will it be?" felt it 
 incumbent upon himself to address the meeting be 
 fore it adjourned. 
 
 The "Chains of Bondage" was a favorite text 
 with him always ; he had felt them and knew what 
 he was talking about. Eloise unconsciously started 
 him upon it now, with Ary Schaeffer s picture for 
 illustration, in a blaze of anger so just that it could 
 not avoid being eloquent. Eloise was at Horace s 
 elbow when Scipio answered his question. Her 
 eyes, which nothing escaped, caught two facts, 
 the important one that here, in this poor little shanty, 
 was an engraving like one which hung in the library 
 at home, and the minor fact that this picture con 
 tained a superfluous figure. 
 
 She edged up to her brother, pointed to it and 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 241 
 
 asked in an undertone, not observing that Scipio 
 had approached and was listening, "Horace, what 
 does Betty s Uncle Scipio mean about chains? I 
 see them there, but our picture at home is different 
 and much prettier; that black man isn t in ours at 
 all, why is he in this one?" 
 
 Scipio made Eloise jump, catching at her words 
 and shouting behind her, " Why ? Yo axes why 
 dat man is lef outen yo picture to home? Cose 
 dey is people in de Norf w at doan want dat man 
 to go to heabeii! Dey wants him to wuk all de 
 days ob his life on de plantations, plantin , an 
 diggin , an hoein , an toilin , day in an day out, 
 so s dey can hab de rice, an de sugar, an de cotton, 
 an de baccy, w en dey s ready to take de r res by 
 de chimbley co ner. Dey wants him on y to res jes 
 long nough so s he can begin nex mawnin fresh 
 an smaht, an nebba min , chillen, tellin yo 
 bout de wives an de mudders holpin long, an de 
 oberseer, an all dat, yo 11 lun bout dat soon 
 nough, de man hissel s nough fo yo ntelli- 
 gence. I says dey s people in the Norf" Scipio 
 used the back of Mrs. Stan wood s chair, for want 
 of a pulpit rail, gesticulating over her head. He 
 wiped the perspiration from his face before he went 
 on: "dey s people in de Norf dat wants de African 
 fo jes dem pupposes an dat s all. Wen he s 
 done his wuk, w en he s wuk d out an can t do 
 no mo , an he s ready to lay down his ole bones, 
 dey 11 make room fo im in de dus , but dey 
 hasn t got any use fo im any furder. Dey d like 
 him jes to stay in de groun , but he need n t go 
 
242 RACHEL STAN WOOD, 
 
 to heaben, whah dey specs to go. JVb, bredren 
 an sisteren! Dose people ain t got no use fo de 
 African in dat place! De wuk s all done, up dah! 
 De shubbles an de hoes is put way, an de place is 
 all cleaned up, spic an span, ready for de Jubilee, 
 an dey ain t no place dah fo de African! He 
 needn t try to git inside, not eben to peek in de 
 cracks, dey s gwine to shet de do^ ! " Scipio s 
 arms made a gesture as if they swept the race out 
 of existence. He was getting oratorical. The chil 
 dren stopped listening. Eloise, on the alert for 
 amusement, nudged Betty and tried to make her 
 laugh. Betty and Dick were too accustomed to this 
 sort of thing to get up emotions over it, and too rev 
 erential toward it to be amused. "Let s go in the 
 kitchen and pack up our cakes and play Come-se- 
 come! " Kichard suggested, and they sneaked out 
 in a body. 
 
 Horace and Grace were intensely interested. 
 
 "But nobody except the Lord has power to close 
 the gates of Heaven against any one," said Grace 
 earnestly, "and Jesus will save all if" 
 
 "Dat s true! Dat s true! I knows dat, bress 
 yo , Miss Desbrum," said Scipio, his face relaxing 
 into smiles. "An dat s whar dose people I m 
 talkin bout is gwine to git berry much disapp inted 
 at de time ob de Day ob Judgment. I ain t any 
 ways troubled bout w at de Laivd s gwine to do! 
 Nor Jesus, nudder. But yo axed bout how twas 
 dat black man was lef outen de same picture in yo 
 house. I m a tellin yo de fax ob de case, dat s 
 all, an in a minute yo 11 reach de census ob de 
 
THE ARISTOCRACY AT AUNT PEGGY S. 243 
 
 argyment. It s on y jes dis, de Sabiour, He 
 sayd, Come unto me all dat s heaby laden, and 
 dose people I has mentioned, dey t inks dat means 
 everybody cept de African. Dey likes dat picture, 
 an dey wants it in the praher books an different 
 places, so dey jes rubs de man out, an dat fixes 
 it all right fo dere use. Dat s why dey publishes 
 half de pictures athout de black man, to suit de 
 fashion. An dose pictures gits into people s houses 
 like yores cose folks like yore folks doan know de 
 man b longs dah." 
 
 Scipio was embarrassed by the difficulty he felt 
 here of convincing Grace and her brother that he 
 did not number them among those exclusive and 
 objectionable people of the North who had been the 
 subject of his remarks. "I don t know w at dose 
 folks 11 do w en dey gits dar ! " he said, slapping 
 his knees and laughing, "cose, sartain sho , dar de 
 Africans is gwine to be, an dey s a heap o folks d 
 rather come back dan to stay in de same comp ny ! " 
 
 But it was time for the guests to depart, and the 
 stir of breaking up began. Mrs. Stan wood, with 
 Betty and Dick and Havilah, were the first to go. 
 
 Horace and Grace urged Mrs. Stanwood to let 
 them take Havilah home in the carriage, as the safer 
 way for her to go. Mrs. Stanwood was delighted 
 with their offer, but refused it, assuring them that 
 Havilah s long cloak and thick veil protected her 
 completely from recognition, even should they meet 
 anybody who knew her. Mrs. Stanwood acquainted 
 her with the invitation, only to show her how many 
 friends there were, on all sides, anxious to protect 
 
244 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 her. Havilah looked up at Horace with sad, heavy 
 eyes and said, "I thank yo , sir; and I thank yo 
 for yo r kindness in bringing my little girl. Yo 
 can t" She looked from him to Grace beside 
 him, and all the lines of her face softened with a 
 hopeless smile, as if words were useless. 
 
 "Can t what?" asked Grace, moving closer to 
 Horace and taking hold of his hand which he had 
 laid upon her shoulder. Grace repeated, "Can t 
 what? I think we can, you know." 
 
 "Oh no, no!" said Havilah, with an expression 
 almost of pity for Grace s innocence. "I was going 
 to say only that yo can t ever need such kindness, 
 and so yo can t ever know how it feels to owe any 
 body what I owe to yo ." She bent down suddenly 
 to embrace Diana and say good-by to her once more. 
 The child squeezed her mother s neck in her arms 
 and kissed her fervently, but made no resistance at 
 being parted from her. She climbed into a chair 
 by the window and craned her little neck to see the 
 last flutter of her mother s dress as she went away. 
 Her self-control was pitiful. 
 
 "Why doesn t she cry? 7 d like to," said 
 Grace to Rachel. 
 
 "She has been moved from pillar to post until 
 she is too accustomed to being parted from her mo 
 ther to make any fuss about it," said Rachel. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 KACHEL S TALISMAN. 
 
 ON the drive home, with Eachel Stanwood beside 
 him, Horace Desborough was gayer than Grace had 
 ever seen him. She and Eloise, on the back seat, 
 were rather quiet. Indeed, Grace would have been 
 depressed had Horace s spirits been less buoyant. 
 All that talk about Ary Schaeffer s picture, together 
 with the patient, submissive parting between Havi- 
 lah and her child, filled Grace s mind with sad 
 thoughts which gave her such a realizing sense of 
 the wickedness of slavery that she felt heavy-hearted. 
 She could not understand how Horace could be op 
 positely affected. He seemed to have thrown off a 
 burden and to be joyous in his relief. Had Grace 
 seen his face she might have thought of another 
 reason for his happiness. Rachel saw it, and, with 
 out guessing or questioning, caught his spirit of 
 gayety. The drive was very exhilarating. It was 
 a rare treat to her and she seized every pleasure 
 it afforded, the irresponsibility as to direction and 
 the delight of looking at the sky, the landscape, 
 the river, the bustling, crowding human life in the 
 streets, all as pictures, herself a looker-on, and not 
 a part of them. Driving was too much of a nov 
 elty for her to enjoy it tamely. She and Horace 
 
246 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 were meeting upon new ground, too, and it was re 
 freshing and delightful. They talked about music, 
 Jenny Lind, Ole Bull, the Philharmonic orchestra, 
 pictures, the Dusseldorf gallery, everything that 
 was only happy, and did not touch upon one of the 
 serious subjects which had hitherto seemed to make 
 up all they had to converse upon. Occasionally, 
 where it was safe, Horace put the reins in Rachel s 
 hands, and gave her elaborate lessons in driving, 
 and she enjoyed a delicious sense of power in guid 
 ing and controlling the horses. Her ignorance gave 
 her courage ; she thought she was skillful and was 
 unconscious of Horace s dexterity in taking the 
 reins from her whenever any real skill was neces 
 sary. Grace held the reins, while Horace helped 
 Rachel to alight at her door and rang the bell for 
 her. Her face was radiant when she thanked him, 
 all aglow with nothing but pure, light-hearted plea 
 sure for which he was responsible. 
 
 When the door closed Tibbie MacClare gave her 
 a card and told her there was a beautiful bunch 
 of flowers in the parlor for her which " the gentle 
 man himself had brought " only a little while be 
 fore. Rachel looked at Burton River ston s card, 
 laid it on the hat-stand shelf, and went upstairs to 
 take her things off, without stopping to look at the 
 flowers. 
 
 Horace Desborough had, to use his own expres 
 sion, discovered himself. He had gotten rid of a 
 burden of doubt, and knew now just where he stood 
 and what was before him. Scipio s explanation of 
 Ary Schaeffer s picture came as a climax to all his 
 
RACHEL S TALISMAN. 247 
 
 thinking and he had decided upon his course. That 
 was one secret of his gay spirits. 
 
 But it was a long time before he felt that kind of 
 gayety again. He seemed to grow quiet after that 
 visit to Scipio s, spent a good many evenings in 
 Will Hedges room, and left his father to smoke his 
 after-dinner cigar alone. Grace understood him 
 now better than the others did, and waited. He 
 went with her where she wanted to go, took her to 
 drive, and was with her as much as possible when 
 he was at home, but he was not confidential any 
 more. 
 
 "I m working out my own salvation," he said to 
 her one morning in the latter part of May, as he 
 was starting off to his business. "The crisis is 
 near at hand; as soon as it s over, I 11 tell you all 
 you want to know." 
 
 "Well, you seem to have decided, at least, and 
 that s one thing," she said, improving the knot of 
 his necktia. 
 
 "Yes, dear, I have decided," was all he answered. 
 Then he kissed her and went away. 
 
 A few days after, walking up town with Will 
 Hedges, he told him all about it, and ended with: 
 "So there it is, Hedges I m going to disappoint 
 nearly everybody and make my father think I m 
 going to the devil! " 
 
 "Do you feel yourself that you re going there?" 
 Will asked, smiling. 
 
 "No I feel like a man," said Horace. 
 
 After they separated, Horace stopped at a flo 
 rist s and bought a quantity of pink rosebuds. "If 
 
248 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 it would n t be imitating Hedges," he thought, "I d 
 like to cross the Hoboken ferry and tramp after 
 some wild flowers, something awfully hard to 
 get." He went a mile out of his way to leave his 
 roses at Mr. Stan wood s door, for Eachel. 
 
 In the evening he went to call upon her. After 
 a little ordinary talk about nothing in particular 
 she looked up at him and asked, 
 
 "What is the matter? Have you won a case 
 to-day?" 
 
 She had one of his roses in her hair, and was do 
 ing some fine netting work which made her hands 
 fly about in a way that interested him. It was fas 
 cinating to watch her give the fine gold cord a toss, 
 push the long needle through its intricate little twist, 
 and then pull the knot taut. 
 
 "Why do you ask? Are you a clairvoyant?" 
 asked Horace. 
 
 "Not at all," she answered. "It does not need 
 any extraordinary vision to see that something has 
 come to you a decision in your favor, a triumph 
 of some kind, big or little; good luck in some 
 form. Come ! Has n t it ? " 
 
 She paused with her needle in the air and looked 
 up at him with questioning eyes. 
 
 He insisted upon knowing what made her think 
 so, saying: "Give me your ground for suspicion, 
 and then I will make my confession." 
 
 "Oh, my suspicion is justified," she said, throw 
 ing the cord over her left thumb. "In the first 
 place, you look better satisfied than I have seen you 
 for -oh, for weeks." 
 
RACHEL S TALISMAN. 249 
 
 "Eight so far, I am," he said, laughing gently. 
 
 "What next?" 
 
 "Well," she said, pulling a knot firm, "as if 
 something had been given to you which you had 
 wanted ever so long. That right? " 
 
 "No, I want it still," he said, amused. "But go 
 on; I ll admit the something. Why can t I do 
 that? Show me how." 
 
 The silk on her needle had given out and she was 
 preparing to fill it again. 
 
 "You ll be clumsy, but you may, if you like," 
 she said, showing him. He enjoyed it and was 
 purposely slow. When he had secured the thread 
 from slipping out of the eye of the long netting 
 needle, he said, 
 
 "Go on; give me more evidences for thinking I 
 have had some good luck. You have not justified 
 your remark at all, so far." 
 
 "Well," said Kachel, folding her hands together 
 on her knee, "you looked, when you came in, as 
 if you had come to the end of something hard ; as if 
 you had got what you had aimed for, and as if it 
 were something you had a right to. You looked 
 entirely satisfied with yourself, Mr. Desborough. 
 Now for your confession ! " 
 
 "Ah!" he said, holding up the needle, which 
 would not hold any more silk. She took it, laugh 
 ing at his filling it so full, and made it turn back 
 and forth so rapidly that he could not see it, as she 
 unwound two or three yards. 
 
 "See what a long piece you have made me waste," 
 she said, with mock reproach. 
 
250 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 He took the needle from her, professing that he 
 wanted to learn just how much silk to put on it 
 another time. What he really wanted was her un 
 divided attention, and to have her hands at rest. 
 
 As she opened her tiny scissors to cut off the su 
 perfluous piece of cord, he said, "Now you are going 
 to cut the thread of my destiny." 
 
 "Then be grateful that it is a golden one," she 
 said, laughing and snipping the silk. "If you ll 
 do that, I will let you off from any more confes 
 sions, if you wish." 
 
 "I don t wish," he said quickly. "I came on 
 purpose to make them, and because I want your 
 interest." 
 
 He wanted so much more than her interest that 
 it was hard not to tell her so. He bent his head 
 over his hands while he unwound the silk again 
 from her netting needle. 
 
 "I have come to the end of something difficult, 
 and I sent you those roses because I wanted" 
 He sat upright and made an effort to jest, as he 
 gave a little laugh and said, "I wanted to celebrate 
 the event." 
 
 "Oh!" came in a joyful little exclamation from 
 Rachel, as she flushed with pleasure and threw a 
 smile at him. 
 
 "And you give me my roses that I may help cel 
 ebrate. I am so glad, and thank you so" she 
 began. 
 
 "No, don t," he said, impulsively. "Here 
 see what I have done with your thread. Take it, 
 please, and go on working. I d rather you would; 
 
RACHEL S TALISMAN. 251 
 
 I can say what I want to better, if you don t look 
 at me." 
 
 He gave her the needle and silk all in a mess, and 
 she obeyed him to the letter, disentangling the silk, 
 rewinding it and resuming her work industriously. 
 
 Horace told his story as directly and simply as 
 he could: "The day after we were at Scipio s cot 
 tage, I went to the head of the firm which I was 
 serving and withdrew from a case which they had 
 given me to work upon. If they win it, their client 
 will become the owner of a large estate in Virginia, 
 upon which there are a good many slaves. If they 
 lose it, the estate will go to a young lady who is 
 eager to sell it and to have the slaves on it liberated. 
 I was obliged to tell Mr. Graythorn that I was too 
 anxious to have the case lost by his client to be able 
 to work upon it. Of course he was very angry, and 
 we had a pretty hot argument in which he tried to 
 convince me of the error of my ways, etc. Never 
 mind all that. The upshot is that I abandoned the 
 case and made arrangements, as soon I could finish 
 certain work on another case of which I had charge, 
 
 O 
 
 to abandon the firm. No, please don t speak, 
 Miss Stan wood." 
 
 Rachel bent her head again over her work. 
 
 "My father " Horace was coming to the hard 
 est part now; he paused a little and began again : 
 " My father is disappointed. He is more than that, 
 he is angry. I don t blame him; he started me 
 a year ago in my profession, magnificently too, 
 and I made a mark in it that gratified him and 
 made him think I was going to fulfill all his extrav- 
 
252 EACIIEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 agant expectations. And now it s all up! We ve 
 been having no end of talks and arguments. Ac 
 cording to my father, my whole responsibility is the 
 study of my country s laws and how to help sustain 
 them, without intruding or going into the details 
 of personal opinions and prejudices. And there s 
 a good deal to say on his side, too. So I am too 
 proud to let him help me start again, and I m go 
 ing to do it by myself. I wanted to tell you be 
 cause the first thing you knew about me was ghastly, 
 it was the fact of my helping to get a decision 
 which sent two men back to slavery. And now I 
 want you to know that I believe you do know it, 
 but I cl like to say it to you, that I call things now 
 by different names; the honor I prided myself on 
 then, I call dishonor now, and I would give any 
 thing in the world if it could be wiped out and for 
 gotten. So there it is, and" He broke off and 
 moved nearer to the table, took up the long piece 
 of her golden silk which she had accused him of 
 making her waste, and said in a bright way, as if it 
 were easier now to jest, "Can t I have this? You 
 accused me of having had some good luck, can t 
 you make me a kind of talisman, or something, of 
 this and wish me success in my new enterprise? " 
 
 "Indeed I can!" she said eagerly. "Only you 
 shall have a better talisman than that. See, my 
 work is finished, and if you will have it, I will give 
 it to you with wishes for the most crowning success." 
 She held up a tiny purse, exquisite and perfect in 
 its make. 
 
 "Aha!" exclaimed Horace, seizing it joyfully. 
 
RACHEL S TALISMAN. 253 
 
 "There s real justice too in your giving me that." 
 They both remembered her refusing him a similar 
 one at the fair. 
 
 Horace made a point of her writing a charm to 
 put inside of the purse, and she brought out her 
 desk. They made an important thing of the charm- 
 making. Finally Rachel wrote on a bit of paper, 
 "Courage, prosperity, and success," and asked if 
 that would do. 
 
 "I should like your name and mine on it, some 
 how," said Horace. 
 
 Her cheeks burned while she wrote, "With all 
 my heart I wish all three to my friend, Horace Des- 
 borough," and signed her name. 
 
 When the bit of paper was folded and put inside 
 of the purse, Horace made a final difficulty of hav 
 ing the latter enclosed in a suitable wrap. She sat 
 isfied him with a small sheet of note-paper from her 
 desk, in which she carefully folded the purse. 
 
 "And there goes the thread of my destiny," Hor 
 ace said while he was insisting upon an elaborate 
 and intricate winding, around the small parcel, of 
 the long, wasted piece of silk from which he would 
 not allow her to cut the smallest bit. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 
 
 FOE the best part of the winter Mr. Kreutsohn 
 put his very soul into the lessons which he gave to 
 Tibbie MacClare. His day dreams carried him on 
 to the time when he might bring her before the pub 
 lic, and when her voice, with its wonderful passion, 
 would touch the heart of the world. That was worth 
 working for. He labored, sacrificed, and toiled 
 with Tibbie through all the ups and downs and try 
 ing variations of her disposition. He experienced 
 every possible temperature in her atmosphere, and 
 it is safe to say that she put him through as many 
 modulations as could be represented by a dictionary 
 of musical terms. In the evening, when his sister, 
 who shared his joys and sorrows, his sufferings and 
 day dreams, inquired about Tibbie, he would, if she 
 had been tractable, take his pipe out of his mouth, 
 beam with satisfaction, and say, "Ach! Dolce can- 
 tabile! pianissimo, con espressione ! " and the day 
 dreams would be vivid. But after a hot lesson, he 
 would say "Ach! " in a different tone, scowl darkly 
 at his sister and exclaim, " Fortissimo ! Allegro 
 vivace, con fuoco tempestuoso ! " and his visions 
 would seem to disappear in the wreaths of smoke 
 from his pipe. 
 
AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 255 
 
 Tibbie was Tibbie. She could not be the person 
 whom the musician invented in his dreams. She 
 enjoyed Mr. Kreutsohn s talk, but she listened to it 
 as if he were telling fairy tales. After the mood 
 which he excited passed away, there was very little 
 impression left. All that about the organ stops, for 
 instance, while it was serious to him, was to her 
 only funny and clever when it was a few days old. 
 She was clever too, and did not tell him what she 
 thought of it, because she liked to sing with the 
 organ, and begged for lessons in the church. She 
 adopted a little trick of saying, "I want to hear 
 those voices in the organ." He was touched at first, 
 when she said that; gratified her, and out of the 
 goodness of his heart played his best for her, and 
 paid extra fees to the sexton for blowing the bel 
 lows. Tibbie soon learned that, of all the old mas 
 ters about whom the musician talked to her, Bach 
 was the one whom he most revered ; so she adopted 
 another little trick of asking him to give her a les 
 son in the church so that he could play Bach s music 
 to her. But she tried it once too often and opened 
 his eyes. One day, when she said, "It is true what 
 you have taught me, the greatest of all is Bock," 
 he had been playing airs from an Italian opera, and 
 she had been throwing peanuts over the choir rail 
 ing at the old woman who was dusting the pews. 
 Mr. Kreutsohn played the Italian airs that day pur 
 posely to test her and discovered that her liking for 
 the great composer was all a pretense. 
 
 When Tibbie found that she had betrayed her 
 self, she laughed aloud, an unfeeling, elfin laugh 
 
256 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 which made the echoes in the church ring, as if ugly 
 sprites and goblins were hiding among the rafters. 
 
 After that it was desecration to play Bach s music 
 to her. 
 
 So Mr. Kreutsohn stopped putting soul into the 
 lessons and substituted conscience. Tibbie did not 
 know the difference. She was growing tired of the 
 lessons ; they meant too much work. She felt that 
 she could do all that was required without so much 
 trouble. To her thinking she sang the scales all 
 right; what was the use of repeating them? She 
 could make a roomful of people listen to her with 
 wonder and admiration ; so she could make every 
 body, if they would give her a chance. Why did n t 
 they hire Castle Garden for her, as they did for 
 Jenny Lind? She d pay them back what it cost 
 and more too. 
 
 This was the attitude into which Tibbie Mac- 
 Clare s mind settled and seemed finally to fix itself. 
 Never did the most earnest missionaries work harder 
 to put light into a darkened soul than did the Stan- 
 wood family and Mr. Kreutsohn to plant good seed 
 in the heart of Tibbie. She had the family philan 
 thropy all to herself, too, for Havilah went to the 
 Mortons early in March, little Diana remained at 
 Scipio s, and Tibbie was the only sinner on the field 
 at the Stanwoods . During the gaps which occurred 
 in the succession of unfortunates or sinners, the va 
 cancy in the kitchen was filled by a tough, leathery, 
 wrinkled little Dutch saint, Mrs. Eab, called by 
 Elizabeth and Richard, "Grandmother Eab." Since 
 Havilah s departure, she had lived at the Stanwoods 
 
AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 257 
 
 and contributed to, rather than drawn from, the 
 stock of philanthropy which was at Tibbie s service. 
 There were times when poor Tibbie melted; when, 
 alone with Mrs. Stan wood, she cried pitifully, and 
 vowed every kind of penitence and reform. After 
 these times she went at her music and about her 
 work with an energy which was as much a frenzy as 
 was the tempest of her wrath when it broke loose. 
 Mrs. Stan wood s faith in her reform remained firm. 
 "We must take time. Her passions have had 
 twenty years to grow in ; she is entitled to a few 
 in which to conquer them," that untiring lady would 
 say. Once Mrs. Stanwood conceived the idea that 
 the calm quiet and peacefulness of Quaker meeting 
 would soothe Tibbie and pour balm upon her spirit. 
 So one Sunday morning she took her to the Hester 
 Street meeting;. But the rows of motionless and 
 
 O 
 
 rigid figures in front of them (they were on one of 
 the back benches) made Tibbie frantic. The peo 
 ple seemed not even to breathe, everybody looked 
 transfixed. Tibbie sat through half an hour of 
 silence and then gave a sudden scream. Mrs. Stan- 
 wood grasped her arm and whispered, " Is thee go 
 ing to do that again? " 
 
 "I don t know; I m afeerd so," answered poor 
 Tibbie, and Mrs. Stanwood marched her out. 
 
 When they reached the corner of the next street, 
 Mrs. Stanwood asked, "What possessed thee?" 
 
 "I think it was the de il," said Tibbie simply, 
 and beginning to cry. "It seemed like the Judg 
 ment, in the stillness of death, an the people all 
 struck dumb! " 
 
258 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 When Mrs. Stan wood told her husband about it 
 and quoted Tibbie s opinion that the devil had 
 prompted her to scream, Mr. Stanwood said, 
 
 "I tell thee, Debby, Genius understands him bet 
 ter than we do. I advise thee to try her with some 
 thing hotter than Friends meeting next First-day." 
 
 "That is what she has grown up on; I d rather 
 try something else," said Mrs. Stanwood. 
 
 With the latter part of May came conventions, 
 anniversaries, and yearly meeting week. The Stan- 
 woods house filled up, emptied, and filled again 
 with guests to such an extent that Dick s length be 
 came quite adjusted to the cramped limits of the 
 trundle-bed. 
 
 It happened one morning when everybody was at 
 a meeting and the children at school, that a gentle 
 man called, and, when Tibbie informed him that no 
 body was at home, asked if he might leave a message 
 with her for Mrs. Stanwood. He was quite an ele 
 gant person in appearance, and Tibbie, pleased by 
 his deferential manner toward herself, graciously 
 invited him into the parlor and offered him the op 
 portunity to write his message. He neither wrote 
 it nor left it verbally. In fact, he entertained Tib 
 bie for half an hour, thanked her profusely for her 
 intelligent and courteous answers to his questions, 
 and asked her permission to call again. As to the 
 message, he said it was, after all, of no consequence, 
 and unless she desired to do so, she need not men 
 tion his call. "*He is just the nicest and kindest of 
 all that I ever saw eome to the house ; he knew me 
 for a lady, an there s\nae call for me to say more 
 
 
AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 259 
 
 than he bid me," thought Tibbie, after he had gone. 
 He did call again, twice, and saw nobody but Tibbie 
 on either occasion. And there were two or three 
 other times, too, when he met her on her way home, 
 after her singing lessons. Everybody in the house 
 was busy, with the company coming and going, and 
 meeting-hours to keep, so that Tibbie was not both 
 ered with questions and kept her own counsel. 
 
 One evening, after all the meetings and anniver 
 saries were over, the Morton girls and Grace Des- 
 borough came to tea at the Stan woods , and Eliza 
 beth Stanwood went to dine at the Desboroughs , 
 with Eloise. It was Elizabeth s first visit to the 
 Desborough mansion, and her feelings were divided. 
 Grace was her ideal of all that was beautiful and 
 lovely; she did not want to leave her, and was 
 frightened at the idea of not having her protection 
 through the ordeal of dinner at the Desboroughs 
 table. On the other hand, Betty was to wear her 
 best white frock, and, for the first time in her life, 
 a sash. That was one compensation and there was 
 another mighty one. Grace had come in the car 
 riage, and Elizabeth was to be driven back in it ! 
 
 "Like Cinderella, going to the ball," she whis 
 pered to Dick, before going out. "If thee was 
 going too, we might play thee was the Prince, and 
 that we were going to the palace to live forever." 
 
 "Pshaw!" said Dick, peering through the side 
 light, by the front door. "It d be lots more fun to 
 be the coachman ! I wish they d let me get up 
 there with him! " 
 
 Betty sat alone on the back seat of the carriage, 
 
260 EACIIEL STANWOOD. 
 
 her dress spread out as far as possible, the ends of 
 her sash carefully drawn around into her lap. The 
 sash was only a lutestring ribbon two inches wide, 
 of so pale a salmon color as to be nearly white, but 
 it was a sash, and it so occupied her mind that she 
 did not see Dick s nose flattened against the narrow 
 window-pane, or hear the good-bys sent after her 
 by Grace and Rachel. Neither did she see, in an 
 upper window, the only person who really fitted into 
 the story of Cinderella, Tibbie MacClare, who, 
 from the scowl upon her face, might have been one 
 of the cross sisters. 
 
 "No matter," Tibbie was thinking, "you ll see 
 me soon enough in my own carriage. May be I 11 
 drive up to the door and leave tickets for the family 
 to go and see me get the honors that belong to me ! " 
 
 Tibbie s head was as full of visions as little 
 Betty s was. She fastened her collar at the glass, 
 studied the arrangement of her hair, touching and 
 coaxing it into the most becoming curves, tied on 
 her bonnet, and taking a bundle from the bed, went 
 softly down the stairs, and by way of the china 
 closet, down the piazza steps into the garden. 
 
 June had come, and the garden was in the height 
 of its glory. Grapevines had learned to run ram 
 pant there ; they straggled over the fences, covered 
 the arbors, and in the back corner climbed up the 
 blacksmith s shop all the way to the eaves. Roses 
 of many varieties nodded their heads on the side of 
 the garden next the lumber yard, and trailed from 
 the piazza stairs. Along the piazza front climbing 
 roses and honeysuckles got into a regular tangle, 
 
AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 261 
 
 fighting it out between them all the way, to keep 
 the railing out of sight from end to end. Mountain 
 pink and sweet alyssum bloomed red and white 
 along the borders of the flower beds, which scarcely 
 vouchsafed so much as a peep at the earth between 
 their gay and thrifty plants. Where the soil was 
 stony, and it was hard to make flowers grow, por- 
 tulaca and myrtle spread themselves. "Benjamin 
 Bump," covered with cypress, was his own funereal 
 monument, and over the big rock in the vegetable 
 bed a minaret of morning-glories waved their bells 
 gayly, of a morning, and of an afternoon gathered 
 themselves up into little trumpets which it was fun 
 to blow into and snap. Just as Tibbie disappeared 
 among some lilac bushes, Rebecca and Susy Morton, 
 Grace Desborough and Rachel, all fresh and lovely 
 in their light summer gowns, came out upon the 
 piazza and down into the garden. Richard, wind 
 ing his way among them, and ducking under their 
 elbows, got ahead and went running, with all his 
 might, down the path. His scheme was to hide 
 somewhere and presently frighten the girls by jump 
 ing out at them. He made straight for the morn 
 ing-glory minaret, and darting in at the opening, 
 bumped against Tibbie and nearly knocked her over. 
 Tibbie staggered, recovered herself, and broke out 
 in a volley of words which would have made Dick s 
 hair stand on end, if her Scotch dialect had not 
 made them mere gibberish to him. 
 
 " Ouch ! . You bumped my head ! / did n t know 
 you were there, any more than a wild bull! Don t 
 tell where I am! " was all he said. 
 
262 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 Tibbie s eyes snapped and she ended her volley 
 by rushing away to the further end of the garden. 
 Dick peered through the openings among the vines 
 to see if the girls were following him. 
 
 In a moment or two, Tibbie also was peering at 
 them, and of all places, from a queer little door up 
 under the ridgepole of the blacksmith s shop! The 
 door opened upon a wooden balcony which had once 
 served as the landing for outside stairs, but the 
 latter had been removed, and Tibbie had evidently 
 reached her hiding-place by means of Mr. Stan- 
 wood s grapevine ladder. 
 
 The girls went to gathering flowers, at first for the 
 tea-table, but afterward they fell to decorating one 
 another with them. They sat down on some rustic 
 benches almost under the blacksmith s balcony, to 
 put what they had gathered into shape. Grace 
 made a crown of coral honeysuckle for Rachel, but 
 the effect was somehow disappointing. Eachel 
 laughed and said, "It s of no use, girls, I m a born 
 Quaker, and you can t make anything else of me; 
 let s make a dryad of Susy." She gathered large 
 grapevine leaves and plaited them into a wreath 
 which nearly covered Susy s head. The others 
 plaited long bands of the leaves and wound them 
 about Susy s trim little figure. The result was 
 pleasing and rather suggestive of a mischievous 
 wood nymph, or sprite of some sort. 
 
 "Pile em on ! " Susy said, spreading her arms out 
 and lending herself to the whim. "I m more a 
 born Quaker than Ray is, but in my case Dame 
 Nature is glad of assistance." 
 
AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 263 
 
 While they were adorning her they fell to singing. 
 
 "Oh!" said Rebecca Morton, presently, break 
 ing off from the song. "What would I give to 
 be in Tibbie MacClare s shoes, with her voice and 
 Mr. Kreutsolm s teaching? How does she get on, 
 Ray?" 
 
 "Better ask her how he gets on, that s more 
 to the point," said Rachel. The girls laughed, and 
 Rachel added idly, "Poor Tibbie! " 
 
 "Poor/" exclaimed Rebecca. "I call that a 
 paradox. What is she to be pitied for? " 
 
 "She s such a sinner," said Susy dryly. "Don t 
 talk about her, she gives me the creeps. We say 
 Poor Uncle Jo and Aunt Debby at our house, and 
 Poor Rachel ; she is in luck, and undeserved luck, 
 too." 
 
 "Oh, we can t be so sure of that," said Rachel, 
 holding up a cluster of roses from which she was se 
 lecting the most perfect ones. "There, Rebecca, 
 fasten that in Sue s hair, instead of that dryad s 
 wreath, which is immensely becoming, but only a 
 temporary adornment. There s hope for the sinner 
 that repenteth, Sue, and Tibbie does repent." 
 
 Susy broke into a peal of laughter. 
 
 "Repent! "she cried. "I should think she did, 
 like a house a-fire ! She went at it the other day 
 when Aunt Debby was cutting out my Infant Asylum 
 wrappers for me. She didn t know I was there. 
 Phew! I prefer her, myself, in her original char 
 acter of Sinner! " 
 
 The girls laughed at Susy s nonsense. 
 
 From the blacksmith s window Tibbie scowled 
 
264 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 her darkest down at them. The grapevine, in a 
 snarl overhead, trailed down long ends and be 
 friended her concealment. 
 
 "And if I was black, you d be calling me a 
 saint," she muttered to herself, while she put on 
 her gloves. 
 
 Kichard lost his joke ; for the girls did not go near 
 the morning-glory vines, and the only person whom 
 he startled was Grandmother Rab, who came out 
 to the vegetable bed to see where Tibbie was with 
 the lettuce and radishes which she had promised 
 to bring in for supper. Grandmother Rab did not 
 enjoy being startled, and gave Dick a sharp piece 
 of her mind. He said, "Everybody is as cross as 
 tigers! " when he joined Rachel and she asked him 
 what was the matter. Susy Morton, to prove the 
 contrary, proposed a race, and that altered his 
 opinion. 
 
 With the girls running like fauns, disappearing 
 under arbors and behind shrubbery, coming out 
 from shadows into light again, with laughter ring 
 ing, with Dick racing, crisscross, everywhere, shout 
 ing and boiling over with fun, the garden was alive 
 with gayety and it was a pity for the tea bell to 
 ring. 
 
 "Halloo! Who left the door open? "Dick ex 
 claimed, stopping at the fence on the back street. 
 He closed it with a bang and, sliding the bolt, shut 
 out the only impish, ugly spirit which had been 
 about. 
 
 "And thee was a naughty little mother not to call 
 us, when thee found Tibbie was out," Rachel said, 
 
AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 265 
 
 when they went indoors. "But no matter! We 11 
 have a glorious revenge by and by, if Tibbie does n t 
 come back in time to clear the table." 
 
 Tibbie did not return and they had the revenge 
 they coveted. Dick was in clover, helping them. 
 He had a long story to tell Betty, by and by, when 
 Mr. Horace Desborough brought her home. Betty 
 and Dick retired under the big side-table in the 
 back parlor to have it out together. Betty began, 
 
 "Oh, Dick! Thee and I are to go riding with 
 Mr. Desborough some day, in that carriage he took 
 to Uncle Scipio s! He s going to coax sister Ra 
 chel to go too, and thee and I are to have the back 
 seat all by ourselves, except my dolls. He says I 
 can take as many dolls as I want to, and I think a 
 good many ought to go, because they never had a 
 chance before, and" 
 
 "If Anna Maria Louisa Lorrimer goes, I won t," 
 said Dick, immediately making the doll question 
 complicated. 
 
 Anna Maria, etc., was an ancient doll, three feet 
 long, with leg-o -mutton sleeves, scant petticoats, 
 and a poke bonnet. Dick abhorred her. 
 
 Betty deftly withdrew from the discussion of her 
 inanimate family and mentioned the chances of Mr. 
 Desborough s letting Dick sit in front and drive 
 part of the way. This was exciting, and brought 
 down a shower of questions as to Betty s visit. She 
 gave a detailed and glorified account of everything. 
 According to her, the splendor of the house far ex 
 ceeded that of the Riverstons. 
 
 "And they have settled beds for everybody! " she 
 said, reaching the climax of luxury. 
 
266 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 In the back parlor Mrs. Stanwood knitted at a 
 blue yarn sock, while her husband and Horace Gree- 
 ley, who was making an evening call, discussed the 
 relative efficacy of immediate or gradual emancipa 
 tion. In the front room Eachel sat at the piano 
 playing to the young people. But Rebecca Mor 
 ton and Horace Desborough were the only ones 
 who listened. Rebecca delighted in Rachel s music, 
 although it stirred up within her unsatisfied long 
 ings. Things seemed to her strangely parceled out. 
 Why should Tibbie MacClare be gifted with a voice 
 for singing, blessed with the opportunity for cul 
 tivating it, and apparently denied an understand 
 ing of her advantages? And why should she, Re 
 becca Morton, be given a soul that hungered for 
 music and be denied every opportunity to satisfy 
 it? Why need the rigid Quaker prejudices against 
 it have been planted so firmly as they were in the 
 minds of her parents? Why could not she have 
 what Tibbie was, to all appearances, throwing away ? 
 It was pretty hard for Rebecca to be a good Quaker. 
 
 Horace Desborough turned the leaves of Rachel s 
 music in answer to little signals which she gave 
 him. The signals were not always necessary, but 
 he was not bound to tell her that, and waited for 
 every one. 
 
 His sister and William Hedges were not listening 
 to a single note that Rachel played. They were 
 talking together in low tones, so intent and happy 
 that they did not know anything about what was 
 going on at the piano. 
 
 Susy Morton did not know one note from another, 
 
AT THE BLACKSMITH S SHOP. 267 
 
 and could not sing the simplest tune straight. It 
 was the easiest thing in the world for her to be a 
 good Quaker; she looked at Rebecca s wistful ex 
 pression and wished again, as she often did, that she 
 could do the sectarianism for both. She sat on a 
 low, rush-bottomed chair, in the shadow of an old- 
 fashioned, high book-case, and commented to herself. 
 "Father and mother will have to let up on thee, 
 Beck, or something 11 happen," she thought, and 
 then made a short study of Horace Desborough. 
 Looking from him to Rachel, over at William 
 Hedges and Grace, back and forth a few times, 
 Susy s brown eyes seemed to awaken with thoughts 
 new-born and interesting. "Hm! " she thought, "I 
 never thought of you stepping in, milord ! Thought 
 all the others were fools to leave the field to The 
 Riverston. Thought lie had it to himself! Was 
 getting mad because nobody came to the rescue, and 
 wondered how Will Hedges could stand by and see 
 it." She looked over at Will. He was writing; 
 
 o 
 
 something on a fold of Grace s fan. Grace was 
 bending toward him, reading as he wrote ; he passed 
 the fan and pencil to her and she wrote something 
 upon another fold. Susy watched them scribbling, 
 first one and then the other, several times. 
 
 "Playing Consequences ?" she wondered. 
 "Hope the fan 11 hold out. I d offer mine to 
 piece out with, if I dared. William Hedges, I in 
 tended thee for Rachel. I didn t think you had 
 sense enough." Her eyes were back upon Hor 
 ace. "Guess you re coming out of Egypt into the 
 light of something besides abolitionism! " 
 
268 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Rachel finished a short prelude of Bach s and 
 broke into a little laugh with the last note. "It 
 is so happy! " she said, looking up at Horace, with 
 the flush of enthusiasm. "There isn t a note in 
 it, from beginning to end, which isn t pure, light- 
 hearted joy. Listen! This" playing little pas 
 sages with either hand while she pointed to the music 
 with the other, "and this, and this. Don t 
 you see? You can t help it, it throws the joy at 
 you and you must catch it and laugh back. Does n t 
 it make you feel like answering back?" 
 
 "Yes," said Horace, smiling down upon her. 
 "If I could throw back as much joy as it gives me, 
 I would be will you play it again? " 
 
 "Well, well!" thought Susy, "You can finish 
 that speech some other time." She took a prolonged 
 look at the other couple and then, bending one of 
 scrutiny upon Horace, she summed up her reflec 
 tions with the thought, 
 
 " If everybody is satisfied, I suppose I ought not 
 to grudge Will to Grace. And, after all, there is 
 something about you, milord, that makes me think 
 you 11 do." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ANOTHER DIFFICULTY FOR THE DESBOROUGHS. 
 
 MRS. DESBOROUGH was not so comfortable in her 
 family pew as she used to be. Horace had be 
 come very irregular in his attendance at church, and 
 her husband seemed to be absorbed in disturbing 
 thoughts, not at all in harmony with the service. 
 His responses were not always fitting. Mrs. Des- 
 borough changed Eloise s seat because of her saying 
 one day, as they were coming out of church, 
 
 "Papa, you kept saying, We beseech thee to 
 hear us, good Lord, instead of Good Lord, deliver 
 us! " 
 
 Eloise s occupation at church was to try to catch 
 somebody tripping in the service. 
 
 Grace was never absent from her seat and was 
 always devout, but her mother looked across Elo- 
 ise at her with anxiety, and with a sense that, men 
 tally, the girl was drifting away from her. Look 
 ing along the pew now, Eloise was the only one who 
 did not worry Mrs. Desborough. It was painfully 
 comfortable to have Horace away ; he and his father 
 were so at variance. Why couldn t young people 
 be reasonable ? The poor lady had hard times keep 
 ing her own mind upon the service. Clever as she 
 was, she was too much out of sympathy with them 
 
270 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 to reach far along the principles which governed 
 either her husband or children. She did not see 
 why they could not all think what they pleased and 
 forego action. 
 
 "For instance," she said one morning when she 
 was planning some alterations to be made in one of 
 Grace s gowns, "the present fashion in dress is not 
 altogether convenient to walk in. I would greatly 
 prefer, for my own comfort, not to have my gowns 
 touch the ground, but is that any reason why I 
 should wear a bloomer costume ? Suppose my prin 
 ciples should lead me to join that community over 
 in Jersey, The Phalanx, I think they call it, 
 and dress as they do ! " 
 
 Grace, standing before her mother s long mirror, 
 trying on her dress, cried out, laughing at the ab 
 surd suggestion. 
 
 "Yes, you exclaim at the very idea of such a 
 thing," said her mother, "and yet you don t see the 
 application to what you and Horace are doing." 
 
 Grace certainly did not, but she was silent. Her 
 mother was no more illogical than usual, and under 
 the delusion that she had made a strong point, went 
 on, 
 
 "Why can t you be content to disapprove of 
 slavery in the same way that I disapprove of the 
 fashions? I don t see, just because you think the 
 institution wrong, why you need feel it your duty to 
 join the mob." 
 
 "Oh, mamma!" cried Grace again. "Horace 
 and I haven t joined any mob! I don t know what 
 you mean. The abolitionists don t mob, it is the 
 other side which does that sort of thing." 
 
ANOTHER DIFFICULTY. 271 
 
 "They do just the same thing, they attract 
 mobs," Mrs. Desborough insisted dogmatically. 
 " Without abolitionists, there would be 110 mob, and 
 they are responsible. You and Horace are making 
 great mistakes, too, in the same direction ; you are 
 attracting to the house abolitionists as your friends. 
 You are fastening the name Abolitionist to your 
 own and your father s name, and are making your 
 selves talked about." 
 
 "Well, mamma dear," said Grace, sitting down 
 in a hopeless little way on the side of a chair and 
 putting her hand on the back of it. "I don t know 
 what we can do about it. I had to do what I did, 
 and Horace has got to do what he is doing. You 
 don t want him to stay with Gray thorn & Ben- 
 derly if the work they give him to do is against 
 his principles, do you?" 
 
 "He was with them to do the-e-ir work, not his, 
 and his duty was to regulate his actions by the-e-ir 
 principles. He was not responsible for their prin 
 ciples, in a-a-ny way whatever. Your father says, 
 Grace, that Horace, by breaking with that firm, 
 has stepped right off a high round of the ladder, on 
 to the very ground! " 
 
 Mrs. Desborough had a way of accompanying the 
 punctuations of her chin with a drawl on her em 
 phatic words, and of closing her eyes when her feel 
 ings were most intense. Her eyes remained shut 
 while she said : " Horace has made the mistake of 
 his life ; he has thrown away his grandest opportun 
 ity and is forced to begin again at the very begin 
 ning, with nothing and nobody to help him ! " 
 
272 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Grace waited a moment and then said softly, as 
 if she were telling the reflection of herself in the 
 glass, rather than her mother: "Yes, there is some 
 body to help Horace." 
 
 "Who?" asked her mother, snapping her eyes 
 open. 
 
 "Mr. Hedges his friend, Mr. William Hedges," 
 said Grace, startled to see in the glass how her 
 color flashed. Then with a sudden movement 
 toward her mother, she exclaimed, 
 
 "Wait, mamma dear, and I will tell you all about 
 it, because I know it will be a comfort to you. My 
 dress is all right now, isn t it? May I take it off? 
 I know it will be lovely, whatever way you fix it, 
 mamma. There !" laying the dress she had taken 
 off upon the bed, "I didn t disturb a single one of 
 the pins, and that is quite wonderful for me; isn t 
 it?" 
 
 It was so much easier to talk while she was busy 
 that Grace made the most of all the details of restor 
 ing the sewing paraphernalia to her mother s work- 
 basket and boxes; of putting on again her dainty 
 dressing-gown with great exactness. While she was 
 trying ribbons and patting bows into shape, she 
 said: "You know Mr. Hedges set up an office for 
 himself a year ago, and they say he is making a 
 reputation very fast indeed; as a pleader, I believe. 
 They say he has a wonderfully clear and just way of 
 making out a case. And he told me, the other even 
 ing at Rachel s, that it will help his prospects very 
 much to have Horace share his office, and that he 
 and Horace have agreed to go into partnership. 
 
ANOTHER DIFFICULTY. 273 
 
 They are so fond of each other and understand each 
 other so well that they are sure to get on. Are n t 
 you glad that Horace has such a noble friend to 
 standby him?" 
 
 Grace was forgetting herself. The color had 
 come into her cheeks to stay, her eyes were shining, 
 and all the light and animation which her mother 
 had missed and longed for were back in her face 
 again. Mrs. Desborough watched her and listened, 
 a new light dawning more clearly upon her mind 
 with every sentence. Every tone of Grace s voice 
 betrayed her, as she went on : 
 
 "Mr. Hedges has a case all ready to offer Hor 
 ace, too. But you must not speak of it, because it 
 is to be a surprise. You see, I am telling you se 
 crets, mamma, but I can t help it because I know 
 they will be such a comfort to you. But you need 
 not keep them long only until to-morrow night. 
 The partnership is to begin to-morrow. And Mr. 
 Hedges has had a beautiful little sign made with 
 "Hedges and Desborough, Attorneys at Law " on 
 it. Horace does not know that, either. So you 
 see, mamma dear, he has somebody to help him, 
 not only to start up the ladder again, but to reach a 
 higher place than ever. And who is there in all the 
 world who would be half so true and noble a friend 
 to Horace as he will be? If you and papa knew 
 him as I do, you would not be cast down, but you 
 would be proud of Horace because he has won such 
 a friend. You would believe, as I do, that he has 
 won a thousand times more than he has lost. Oh, 
 if / were in Horace s place, with him to be my 
 
274 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 friend, I would not be afraid of anything in all the 
 world!" 
 
 "Gracie!" cried Mrs. Desborough softly, and 
 the name was like a little cry of pain as she held up 
 her arms from the low chair upon which she sat. 
 Grace knelt down before it and folded her arms 
 around her mother. She mistook the little cry and 
 by no means understood. She thought her mother s 
 tears were because her heart was too full of gratitude 
 to William Hedges. She caressed her, and said in 
 happy little sentences: "I knew you would be glad, 
 dear mamma, and I m so glad I told you ! You 11 
 tell papa too, won t you? It will be such a relief to 
 him, and Mr. Hedges will not mind, if only you 
 keep from Horace his surprise about the case and 
 the little sign. Will you tell papa to do that 
 too?" 
 
 "Yes, darling," said her mother, forcing herself 
 to speak calmly. She felt that her own wisdom 
 was not enough to prompt her what to say. She 
 wanted her husband s help. So she only kissed her 
 daughter again and said, "You had better go now, 
 dear, and leave me to dress." 
 
 Grace, shut in her own room, went to her writing- 
 desk and opened a little drawer in it. It contained 
 nothing but a bunch of red berries, a bow of ribbon, 
 and that fan which was covered with Will Hedges 
 scribbling, but it was Grace s holy of holies. She 
 played with the fan and thought she ought to have 
 told her mother of those other things Mr. Hedges 
 had said to her under cover of Rachel s music. 
 The scribbles on the fan were nothing but dates and 
 
ANOTHER DIFFICULTY. 275 
 
 initials, but they meant a history. Grace read 
 them in regular order : 
 
 "October 27th, West th Street." That was 
 when Will and she had first met, at the Stan woods 
 party. It meant the talk they had under the More- 
 land pictures. Her thoughts had never been worth 
 anything until then. 
 
 "November 9th, Fourteenth Street." That was 
 at the Mortons , where the sewing-circle met. "No 
 vember 21st, 14 Henry Street." The Bixbys had 
 the sewing-circle that afternoon. The gentlemen 
 came after tea, and they played games and sang. 
 
 "December 14th, 15th, 16th, Nelson Hall." 
 Those meant that lifetime at the fair: the picnic 
 meals all together, the violets Mr. Hedges bought 
 for Miss Tabitha Snow, the moss basket he was so 
 careful and particular about. And Havilah, his 
 face when he leaned over her and whispered, "You 
 have saved her!" Grace glanced from the fan to 
 the red berries and bow of ribbon and smiled a 
 sort of dear amusement at them. He was so funny 
 about the companion bow to this one, when he 
 begged for it "to remember her cloak by." That 
 was so perfectly ridiculous what he said about 
 the "merest ravelings of its ribbons being worth 
 more than Sir Walter Raleigh s whole cloak, even 
 with the original mud and very print of Queen 
 Elizabeth s foot upon it! " 
 
 "January 26th, Scipio and Margaret Franklin." 
 Yes, that took in the wedding at Mr. Stanwood s, 
 and the house no, he was not at the house-warm 
 ing. The dates for March and April were all when 
 
276 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 he came to see Horace and stopped downstairs for 
 little calls. And in May it was the same thing. 
 Those May parties away up-town and across the 
 river never happened ; it was a pity they had to be 
 given up. And last of all, here was the tea the 
 other night at Rachel s and all that he told her 
 about the new firm, Hedges & Desborough, and how 
 hard he was going to work to make her think well 
 of him, and how it was impossible for him to say all 
 that he wanted to until he had made more of a name 
 for himself. That was the part Grace thought her 
 mother ought to know. She had told all about how 
 much Mr. Hedges cared for Horace, but she had 
 never said a word about how much he cared for her ! 
 "Poor mamma!" she thought. "We have done 
 nothing of late, Horace and I, but tell her startling 
 things; what will she do, if we tell her any more? 
 It seems as if the house was full of volcanoes and 
 they must break out sometime! If I were only 
 strong, like Rachel! But I m nothing but a weak, 
 good-for-nothing coward, and I don t see what good 
 I am or what anybody wants of me! " 
 
 But, with the depressing thought, she remembered 
 how very much somebody wanted of her, and thought 
 how much more comfortable she would be if her 
 mother knew all about it. She was entirely inno 
 cent of the fact that she had as good as told her 
 mother all there was to tell. There was no need 
 whatever of a showing for Will Hedges side of the 
 story. There was no end to the story which this 
 last date of the fan represented. 
 
 Grace might have read her fan for the next hour, 
 if the maid had not come to announce dinner. 
 
ANOTHER DIFFICULTY. 277 
 
 Grace would have liked some of her old talks with 
 her brother at this time, but his attitude in the 
 family made him powerless to help her just now. 
 His influence with his father and mother was in 
 exile ; their differences would have to be adjusted or 
 lived down before it could be recalled. Grace was 
 conscious of this, and did not want to add to his wor 
 ries by her confidences. Since their sympathy with 
 each other on the question of slavery had been 
 openly avowed, they had an uncomfortable feeling 
 when they happened to be alone together, lest it 
 might seem as if they set themselves apart from the 
 family interests. So they had stopped their confi 
 dences, and, by tacit agreement, kept themselves in 
 the family circle as much as possible. Horace en 
 couraged Eloise to watch for him of an afternoon, 
 when he came home, to rifle his pockets for childish 
 treasures, and to report to him what interested her 
 particularly. At the table he made much use of his 
 nickname for her of "Miss Budget," rallied her for 
 news of the day, and, by chaffing with her, avoided 
 snags in general conversation. His treatment of 
 her was gratifying to them all; his mother thought 
 it an evidence of growing sympathy between them ; 
 his father seized upon anything which helped them 
 avoid serious talk, and Grace was glad to have 
 Eloise s scrutiny diverted from herself. She looked 
 across the table at Horace and envied him these 
 clays. He, at least, had made everybody understand 
 exactly where he stood. He had thrown his bomb 
 shell and was braving nobly the answering shots. 
 Grace wished she could do that. But even to think 
 of it made her heart sink. 
 
278 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 In her acknowledgment of her anti-slavery prin 
 ciples, she had exhausted her power to stem the cur 
 rent of opposition, and she had no courage left to 
 tell her parents about Will and how he was going to 
 earn the right to claim her. She did not know that 
 she had revealed all they needed to know, or that 
 they had a bombshell preparing for her. 
 
 In the light of Grace s self -betrayal Mr. and Mrs. 
 Desborough held a series of consultations, and, by 
 the end of the next fortnight, announced the result. 
 They had decided upon an elaborate plan of travel 
 in Europe, which would keep them moving from 
 place to place through the summer and find them 
 established for the following winter in Paris. Of 
 course Horace would not accompany them, and the 
 house in New York would be closed during their 
 absence. They had often talked of spending a year 
 abroad and concluded that now was the time for it. 
 
 Grace thought her heart was going to be broken. 
 To her the plan meant exile from everything which 
 counted for happiness. She made her feeble at 
 tempts at resistance and pleadings to have the plan 
 given up or modified, but without success. 
 
 One morning, after Horace had gone to his office, 
 Eloise had started for school, and her parents were 
 lingering at the breakfast table, the poor child made 
 her confession. She did it in her trembling fash 
 ion, with a sinking heart, but she made it all, with 
 out reserve. It only brought her more misery. 
 Her father was angry because Will had spoken to 
 her at all, called him dishonorable, and said other 
 hard things of him. 
 
ANOTHER DIFFICULTY. 279 
 
 "That alone," he declared, "fixes my resolution 
 to postpone our return as long as possible. Or, at 
 least, to make it dependent upon an entire change 
 of either your feeling or his. His own social popu 
 larity makes it quite possible, even probable, 
 that his feeling will alter. No, Grace ; your reasons 
 for not going demand that we adhere to our plan, 
 only hastening our departure. But I want to make 
 clear to you this fact : that your mother and I gave 
 way to you concerning your anti-slavery principles. 
 We did not agree with you, but we yielded our judg 
 ment and allowed you an independent course. Now 
 it is your turn to yield and our right to claim your 
 concurrence in the plans we have made for your wel 
 fare. We expect this of you, whether you are blind 
 or not to the wisdom of it." 
 
 But with those bitter references to Will and that 
 speech about his popularity, whatever show of jus 
 tice her father s argument had, vanished like mist 
 from Grace s reason. A set look, not at all like 
 yielding, came into her face. 
 
 "If I must, I can go with you, papa," she said 
 coldly. "But I think you could not stand face to 
 face with Mr. Hedges and say those things of him." 
 
 "I will certainly give him an opportunity to ex 
 plain himself, but it will be difficult for him to alter 
 my opinion of the course he has taken," Mr. Des- 
 borough said stiffly. "I have nothing more to say, 
 Grace," he added, taking up his newspaper and 
 closing the interview. 
 
 "This is the only way to treat the matter with 
 decision," he said, after Grace had left the room, 
 
280 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 looking around the edge of the paper at his wife. 
 "We were too lenient about all that fair business, 
 and it will be necessary to take an opposite course 
 now, for a time. A few months of sight-seeing and 
 travel will clear her brain and make her forget that 
 fellow. Confound him ! If Horace chooses to set 
 up a shop with him, we can t help ourselves, but I 
 wont give up Grace. We will draw the line with 
 Horace. One reformer in the family is all we can 
 stand. I shall give this Hedges to understand that 
 there isn t the slightest hope for him. We 11 get 
 Grace on the other side of the water as soon as 
 possible, and give her other things to think about. 
 Marie, we must indulge her in other directions. 
 Buy her everything she wants. Cultivate her taste 
 in dress! Give her whatever she fancies! " 
 
 "There is just the point," said his wife, in a 
 dejected tone. "To find the other directions ! 
 Dress? I don t know anything in the direction of 
 clothes to interest Grace, except a Quaker uniform. 
 It would not take much, Robert, to make her fancy 
 adopting that, coal-scuttle bonnet and all. If you d 
 like to see her dressed like that Mrs. Morton who 
 called upon me, I can interest her in clothes, but I 
 don t know any other way to do it." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IN THE OFFICE OF THE NEW FIKM. 
 
 WHEN Mr. Desborough wrote his short demand 
 for a personal interview with Mr. William Hedges, 
 he did not give the place of meeting quite enough 
 consideration. "I can t invite him to come to me 
 to be raked over the coals, so I 11 have to go to 
 him," was his only thought, as he wrote a hasty 
 note asking for an appointment at Will s office. 
 On the following morning, when he reached the 
 place, it was rather unpleasant to discover it by 
 means of that neat little sign of which Grace had 
 told her mother. "Hedges & Desborough " was not 
 a pleasing combination to Horace s father. It was 
 not quite so fitting, after all, to do his raking over 
 the coals in the place where Horace had found a 
 new opening. Mr. Desborough could not shirk the 
 thought, "When his father fails him, this Hedges 
 takes him up." With the sign to suggest this to 
 him, his errand was more difficult than he had an 
 ticipated. 
 
 "All the same, duty is duty," he thought, while 
 Mr. Hedges was inviting him into his private office 
 and giving him a chair. William s manner was 
 that of one gentleman offering courtesy to another, 
 not at all that of one who expected to be found 
 
282 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 fault with. Mr. Desborough began, "I am here in 
 the interest of my daughter, Mr. Hedges." 
 
 "I am glad of that, Mr. Desborough, " said Will. 
 "I hope I can show you that my interest in her 
 is" 
 
 "You cannot show me that it is anything but an 
 injury to her, sir," exclaimed Mr. Desborough, with 
 decision. "I came to request that you will with 
 draw it from her altogether, altogether. She has 
 told her mother and me of your most ill-judged 
 interview with her at the house of Mr. Stan wood. 
 No such words should have been spoken by you, Mr. 
 Hedges; you should have sought an interview with 
 me, sir, with me ! Your imprudence has caused 
 my daughter much distress, and if you value her 
 peace of mind, you will retract what you said to 
 her, retract all you have said to her on the sub 
 ject of of the interest you profess to have in her." 
 Mr. Desborough waited for Will to answer, but he 
 did not speak. 
 
 "If you refuse" began Mr. Desborough and 
 waited again. 
 
 "I do refuse," said Will, not moving, and quietly 
 meeting Mr. Desborough s eyes. 
 
 " Then let me tell you that your refusal will bring 
 about results which you will deplore and which you 
 cannot, for a moment, anticipate," said Mr. Des 
 borough hotly, and, fairly launched upon his theme, 
 he poured out upon Will his anger and reproaches 
 in full force. He went back to the time of the fair 
 and regretted, at length, his own weakness in yielding 
 to his daughter s wishes. Instead of satisfying her, 
 
IN THE OFFICE OF THE NEW FIRM. 283 
 
 it had created new and dangerous channels for her 
 unwholesome enthusiasm. It was her anti-slavery 
 furor which had brought discord and disorganization 
 into the family. "Look at this, sir! Look at 
 this! " he exclaimed with a wave of his arm. "The 
 very sign upon your door proclaims the division in 
 my family. Its interests are irrevocably divided. 
 My son has thrown away the opportunity of his life, 
 and now, now, Mr. Hedges, you propose to destroy 
 the future I had planned for my daughter! " 
 
 Will, sitting there, motionless and silent, with 
 fixed attention to every word, left the field abso 
 lutely to Mr. Desborough. Had that gentleman 
 met his steady, resolute eyes, he might have felt 
 weaker in his arguments, but he did not look at 
 Will and was misled by his silence. He thought 
 his own position was so clearly right that there was 
 no answer for Will to make. He thought he was 
 
 O 
 
 going to manage him without any difficulty. He had 
 not meant to refer to Horace. He was not averse 
 to Horace s going into partnership with Mr. Hedges. 
 The name of Hedges was respected in business cir 
 cles and the sacred one of Desborough was not going 
 to be injured by it. He certainly wanted somebody 
 to extend a helping hand to his son, and, now that 
 this European plan had come up, it was comfortable 
 to feel that Horace would not be left in the lurch. 
 Of course he could not approve of the partnership. 
 But he could talk lightly of it. He had said to Mr. 
 Graythorn, "Yes, my son has gone into partnership 
 with that young Hedges, and, while I don t like it, 
 I don t wholly object. Hedges has n t anything in 
 
284 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 him but anti-slavery gunpowder, but Horace has a 
 liking for that sort of thing just now, and may be a 
 few explosions are what he needs for the restoration 
 of his common sense." So, having taken this atti 
 tude, he had meant to leave out altogether, on the 
 present occasion, any reference to the young firm of 
 Hedges & Desborough, but the making out of his 
 case had brought it in naturally, and now he coaxed 
 up all the points he could think of in connection 
 with it. "Yes, he would show this hot-blooded 
 young fellow just what he was doing; here was the 
 opportunity, and it was no more than his duty." 
 He expected resentment and would rather have pre 
 ferred it. But the young man had nothing to say. 
 He had not answered a single one of his charges. 
 After an instant, Mr. Desborough went on, with 
 fresh heat, "You are not satisfied with the cutting 
 off of a future for my son, for I attribute his 
 course mainly to your personal influence, you are 
 not satisfied with dragging him down to the bottom 
 of the heap with" He was going to say "with 
 yourself," but he looked at Will just then and 
 stopped. Nobody could look at the strong lines on 
 Will s face and think of him at the bottom of any 
 heap. 
 
 What a listener Will was ! Was he never going 
 to speak? As Mr. Desborough paused, Will re 
 called him by the words, "You were saying" 
 
 "That you are not satisfied with with all this," 
 said Mr. Desborough, with a sweeping gesture as if 
 "all this" meant a world of sins, "but you must 
 stand between my daughter and her future! She 
 
IN THE OFFICE OF THE NEW FIEM. 285 
 
 must shut her eyes to all that the world offers her; 
 she must be blind and deaf to the hopes of her par 
 ents. She must throw away their hopes, their am 
 bition, their plans, all that they have struggled 
 for since she was born, and live upon your hopes, 
 and your plans ! You ask her to store up those as 
 priceless treasures. You claim to have an interest 
 in her, let me tell you that you stand in the way 
 of her interests. You do not speak. I think it is 
 because any defense of your course is impossible. 
 But you have made but one course advisable for us, 
 and that is to take our daughter out of your reach. 
 I have come this morning to tell you that we shall 
 sail for Europe in a few days." Mr. Desborough 
 gave Will a chance to exclaim at this, but there was 
 not a sound. Mr. Desborough said, 
 
 "Apparently you have been informed of our in 
 tention ; your partnership is, no doubt, a source of 
 information. I am not sorry, as perhaps you are 
 better prepared to do what I have come to ask, 
 to demand of you." 
 
 "What have you come to demand? " asked Will, 
 in a strange voice. 
 
 Mr. Desborough answered, "That you will re 
 lease my daughter from every thought of you as her 
 lover. That you will allow her to go away with ab 
 solutely no expectation that, in such a character, 
 your interest will follow her, or that, upon her re 
 turn, she will see it restored. Will you consent to 
 do this?" 
 
 "I will not," said Will, in the same strained 
 voice. 
 
286 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "As her father, I demand it of you," said Mr. 
 Desborough rising. 
 
 "As her lover I refuse it," said Will, rising also 
 and clasping his hand firmly on the back of his 
 chair. 
 
 "You speak without principle, sir! You ignore 
 the rights of a father," said Mr. Desborough, with 
 heat. 
 
 "I speak with the highest principle, and I have 
 given you more than the rights of a father, I 
 have remembered that you are her father," said 
 Will steadily. 
 
 "Your principle is one impossible to understand," 
 said Mr. Desborough. But he caught sight of 
 something which made him stop. He was looking 
 at Will now, and saw at last, in his pallor, his un 
 flinching eyes, and the lines of his mouth, that his 
 self-control was masterly, and that behind it was a 
 reserve power he had not suspected. 
 
 "I think Miss Desborough will understand," said 
 Will. 
 
 Mr. Desborough exclaimed, " She will understand 
 more than you count upon, Mr. Hedges ! She will 
 understand that, whatever position you choose to 
 maintain, any engagement between her and you is 
 impossible; that it will not be recognized by her 
 family. Knowing this, your persistence can only 
 be a source of unhappiness to her. I tell you, Mr. 
 Hedges" Mr. Desborough s tone grew less per 
 emptory and more argumentative here ; he repeated, 
 in almost a pleading voice: "I tell you I am posi 
 tive that this feeling of my daughter s for you is a 
 
IN THE OFFICE OF THE NEW FIEM. 287 
 
 temporary one, a fancy, a delusion. If you test it 
 by such a separation as I desire, by allowing her to 
 go away under the supposition that your judgment 
 concurs with mine ; that you yield to " 
 
 "Stop there, Mr. Desborough! " said Will, in his 
 own full, strong voice. "You have gone too far, 
 sir. I have the right to demand that you hear me 
 now!" 
 
 Mr. Desborough folded his arms and said stiffly : 
 "Very well, sir, what have you to say?" 
 
 "What I have to say will not affect you; your 
 manner convinces me of that," said Will. "But it 
 is necessary for me to speak. You have come here 
 because you have learned that I love your daughter ; 
 because I have told her that, with all the power God 
 has given me, I will try to earn the right to live for 
 her, the right to ask her to be my wife. You have 
 made no attempt to find out what I am, what quali 
 ties or ability I possess. You have not asked what 
 I require of myself to make me worthy of your 
 daughter s hand. You come to tell me simply that 
 I shall not have it, that you will prevent me from 
 winning it. You have come, knowing that your 
 daughter loves me, no matter about your belief 
 that her feeling is transient ; I do not care for that. 
 Believing that she loves me now, you come to de 
 mand of me that I will side with you in the work of 
 destroying that love by making myself unworthy of 
 it! You wish me to dishonor it, to make myself 
 false to it, that she may have reason to despise me ! 
 I have the right to ask what you have discovered in 
 my character which allows you to think me capable 
 of this? " 
 
288 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "I make no attack upon your character, Mr. 
 Hedges," said Mr. Desborough coldly. "I wish 
 only to show you that marriage between yourself 
 and my daughter is not to be thought of, and to 
 break the connection between you now, before it is 
 too late. But I see that it will be useless for us to 
 talk any longer. My effort has been fruitless, and 
 without further discussion I will pursue the course 
 upon which I have determined. Meanwhile, I re 
 quest that you will not see her. I must ask 
 you" 
 
 "Not until I say something more to you, sir," 
 said Will resolutely. "You have made many 
 charges against me which it would be idle for me to 
 answer. I shall not try to do so. Time will an 
 swer them for me, perhaps, and when it does, I " 
 Will stopped with sudden emotion. He moved 
 toward the door and made a gesture to detain Mr. 
 Desborough from going out. In another moment 
 he had himself under control, and his deep, strong 
 voice .did not fail him while he said : 
 
 "You have called my interest in your daughter 
 an injury to her. It cannot be so while her hand 
 points to the standard for which I aim. To reach 
 that, I exact more of myself than any other man 
 could exact of me. You are going to take her away 
 and put half the world between us. It will make 
 no difference. I will work the harder to win the 
 right to claim her, and when I do, the world cannot 
 separate us. One other word and I have done, Mr. 
 Desborough. Since that separation must be, I will 
 do nothing to make it harder for for her. That 
 
JN THE OFFICE OF THE NEW FIEM. 289 
 
 is all I will promise and" lie stood very erect as 
 he looked at Mr. Desborough and said, "You are 
 her father I will try to forget your injustice." 
 
 "I would like what I have said to be remembered, 
 sir, not forgotten," said Mr. Desborough angrily, 
 and he went away more troubled, far, than he had 
 been when he came. This young man who was to 
 be so easily bidden, and forbidden, was not to be 
 set aside without trouble. The aspect of the case 
 from each new point of view, seemed more difficult. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ELOISE MEDDLES AT THE EIGHT MOMENT. 
 
 IN the crisis of affairs at home Horace had, of 
 course, learned how matters stood between his sister 
 Grace and his partner. He had made a brave fight 
 for them and done what he could to alter the deci 
 sion of his parents, but his efforts could not, under 
 the circumstances, prove otherwise than futile. 
 
 He kept as much as possible out of Grace s way. 
 Once, meeting him in the library, she had thrown 
 herself into his arms and broken out with a violent 
 fit of sobbing. When with difficulty he had quieted 
 her, she could not talk to him. He was the one 
 person in the house before whom her self-control 
 broke down. Seeing this, he hastened his own ar 
 rangements, and moved himself and his belongings 
 to the house in which Will Hedges lived, where he 
 had secured a room. He made daily visits home, 
 and took what charge was permitted him of the prep 
 arations for the breaking up. He always asked for 
 Grace, but made no resistance to his mother s little 
 methods of keeping her out of sight as much as pos 
 sible. 
 
 "You know she can t help crying when she is 
 with you, and really she gets along very well when 
 you are away," Mrs. Desborough said. 
 
ELOISE MEDDLES AT THE EIGHT MOMENT. 291 
 
 Horace knew better. He knew that Grace s 
 power of resistance was exhausted, that was all. It 
 was not in her to make a very good fight. She had 
 done her best. The contest was over and lost, and 
 now there was nothing for her but submission. 
 
 It was a pitiful household. Even Eloise, who 
 had been beside herself with happiness at the pros 
 pect of travel, sight-seeing and shopping, was be 
 ginning to ferret out a dark side of the picture. 
 She had discovered that the family talks from which 
 she was excluded were not all about stupid business 
 plans, and how Horace was going to live as a bach 
 elor, but that something was up which did not seem 
 to suit anybody. She watched for available open 
 ings in conversation and struck in, with her usual 
 determination to know as much as anybody, but, 
 for the first time in her life, she was snubbed with a 
 decision and efficacy which cut off at the outset her 
 search for knowledge, and left her ignorant as to 
 the real nature of the trouble. All she gathered 
 was that Grace was not well and that the trip to 
 Europe was to be for her benefit. Eloise s efforts 
 to learn anything more were pitilessly nipped in the 
 bud, and she was set aside and disposed of as an 
 article not in requisition at this time. 
 
 "That s the way they all do, Thomas," she said 
 one afternoon, coming out of the library in disgust 
 and meeting the waiter at the foot of the stairs. 
 "They let me stay with them all the time they are 
 just tiresome, but the minute they begin to say 
 anything I want to hear, they pack me off!" For 
 want of better entertainment she followed Thomas 
 
292 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 into the butler s pantry and watched him pack the 
 silver. 
 
 Eloise had no imagination to fall back upon ; her 
 mind was a practical one, and had little to contrib 
 ute in the way of entertainment. When she played 
 with Betty Stanwood, she lost patience with Betty 
 for calling things by the wrong names. She de 
 spised "Benjamin Bump," "Timothy Tickleboy," 
 and the family of " Timberkins ; " they were to her 
 dead sticks and lumber, and Betty was silly and 
 stupid to call them anything else. Had Betty been 
 in Eloise s place this afternoon, she would have 
 created out of the pieces of silver a whole raft of 
 companions, but to Eloise the forks were forks, and 
 the spoons spoons, and they were intolerably monoto 
 nous. For a while she helped Thomas roll them, 
 one by one, in strips of tissue paper, but the occu 
 pation was too useful to interest her long. She 
 asked Thomas all the questions she could think of, 
 but his biography was dull. Everybody was dull. 
 She decided to go upstairs and see if Grace would 
 not let her "fix up," by which she meant haul over 
 the drawers where she kept her ribbons, and laces, 
 and jewelry. 
 
 She was just about to start when a ring of the 
 front door bell broke the monotony of the hour, and 
 while Thomas went to answer it, Eloise fitted her 
 nose into the crack of the pantry door to learn who 
 had rung. She heard Thomas say, "Miss Desbor- 
 ough ain t disposed and she s got so many trunks 
 to pack that she can t see nobody, sir, till she comes 
 back from Europe," 
 
ELOISE MEDDLES AT THE EIGHT MOMENT. 293 
 
 Eloise slid the door along a little farther and rec 
 ognized Mr. William Hedges. 
 
 "Oh, Thomas, what a dreadful story! "she ex 
 claimed, springing out of the pantry and running to 
 admit Will herself into the house. Taking posses 
 sion of the front door, she slung it open all the way, 
 so that it practically pinned Thomas back against 
 the wall. She glared at him over her shoulder and 
 scolded, "You know well enough that Henriette has 
 to pack everything, and Gracie would be as mad 
 as fury, if she heard you say such a thing to Mr. 
 Hedges! Come into the parlor, Mr. Hedges, and 
 I 11 call Gracie down, because she would not like it 
 a single bit if we got off to Europe and she never 
 said good-by to you." And, determined to show 
 Thomas the full iniquity of his misrepresentations, 
 Eloise snatched the bunch of violets from Will s 
 hand and said, "J ll take these flowers to Gracie, 
 Mr. Hedges. Thomas, you can go back to your 
 work." 
 
 And so saying she ran upstairs to kill two birds 
 with one stone, tell Grace that Mr. Hedges was 
 waiting to see her, and get permission to ransack 
 the attractive things in her bureau drawers. 
 
 Thomas went back to the pantry, with indigna 
 tion which was not altogether unrighteous. In say 
 ing that Miss Desborough was indisposed he was 
 simply obeying his mistress s orders; his statement 
 concerning the trunks was an addition of his own 
 because he was tired of answering the frequent in 
 quiries of Mr. Hedges. 
 
 William Hedges had resolved that he would see 
 
294 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 Grace before she went away, but, if it was a pos 
 sible thing, he meant to see her, openly, in her 
 father s house. After two or three failures, he de 
 cided that he was not going to be admitted, but he 
 persisted, in the hope that some fortunate accident 
 might aid him. He might have contrived a dozen 
 secret meetings with Grace, but he did not mean to 
 resort to one, unless driven to the extremity. He 
 meant just what he said when he told Mr. Desbor- 
 ough that he would not make the situation harder 
 than it already was for Grace, and, to avoid that, 
 he wanted to keep her course clear and straight with 
 her parents if he could. The accident he had hoped 
 for had come just in time. The meddlesome little 
 Eloise, for once, had meddled at the right moment. 
 Will did not know but that she would announce him 
 to her parents also, but he was ready to meet them 
 if they came. He was going to plead to be allowed 
 to see Grace, to give them his word of honor that 
 his interview with her should help reconcile her 
 to parting with him for a time. He would even 
 agree not to write to her, and to let her go away 
 without binding her by promises. And then, if it 
 was proved that his and Grace s love for each other 
 was fixed and unchangeable, Mr. and Mrs. Desbor- 
 ough would wish to reunite them. He would stand 
 before them so clear and right in the course he 
 meant to take, that they could not help seeing the 
 justice of it, or fail to admit into the bond that one 
 little mighty "if" which would make Grace bear up 
 through all the long separation. Oh, he was going 
 to say noble things, grand things to them. He had 
 
ELOISE MEDDLES AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. 295 
 
 held on to himself when he had seen Mr. Desbor- 
 ough ; he had not let himself out. Day and night, 
 ever since, he had thought of the things he ought to 
 have said then ; it was not fair to Mr. Desborough 
 to expect from him any kind of understanding from 
 such an interview. He had said just the wrong 
 things then; now he was ready to say the right ones. 
 Now 
 
 The door opened, there was the rustle of a soft 
 gown, and Grace, with a quick, appealing move 
 ment, threw herself into his arms. And, instead of 
 all his brave intention to wait and win her parents 
 consent, Will was holding her as if she were his 
 own now, for life! All question of winning was 
 done with forever. 
 
 "Poor little girl! Poor little girl!" he said, 
 after a minute, his hand keeping her head on his 
 breast, while he made her sit down with him on the 
 sofa. She was trembling and sobbing violently. 
 
 "Cry it all out there, darling," Will whispered. 
 "Leave the heartache there, if you can. I want it 
 all to keep, while you are away. If I cannot help 
 you bear your pain, my love counts for nothing." 
 
 Presently she looked up at him with a fixed ex 
 pression he had never seen upon her face. Her 
 trembling had ceased, but she was very white while 
 she said with decision : "If they keep me away from 
 you a lifetime, I cannot change. You will never 
 believe anything else, will you?" 
 
 "Never ! " said Will, looking into her eyes. "And 
 you believe the same of me?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," Grace said firmly. 
 
296 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 "Why then, where is all the pain? " asked Will 
 almost brightly. " What is it all about ? No, don t 
 move your head for a minute. Look at me just 
 so, while I say something I want you to remember. 
 We trust each other, and that is all we need to 
 know." 
 
 "And it shall not be a lifetime, or even a great 
 part of a lifetime," he insisted presently, when he 
 knew that he must go. 
 
 "I am going to live my best for you, and you 
 must promise me to do the same. Will you? 
 Look up again," he whispered, bending over her. 
 "Give me one kiss, my darling, and say you will." 
 
 "I will," she said softly, and kissed him. 
 
 How on earth were they to do any better? They 
 had braced each other up to bear as much sacrifice 
 as anybody had a right to ask, as much as they 
 were capable of bearing. Mother Nature has some 
 thing to say about these things. 
 
 And the parents thought they were doing the 
 wisest thing for their daughter s happiness. They 
 took her away in the expectation that Europe was 
 going to cure her of her fancy for Mr. William 
 Hedges, her anti-slavery hobbies, and everything 
 else that was unwholesome and undesirable. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 
 
 HOKACE DESBOROUGH had taken a room in the 
 house where William Hedges lived. It was in 
 the middle of a long row of red brick three -story 
 houses, with green blinds, narrow little areas two 
 steps deep, and high doorsteps. The row extended 
 from Second Avenue nearly to the Bowery, where it 
 ended against three one-story shops, and, at the 
 corner, a police station. Along the opposite side 
 of the street was a row of private stables belonging 
 to the modestly stylish houses in the street above. 
 Horace Desborough occupied the large back room 
 and hall bedroom on the second floor, and William 
 Hedges occupied the corresponding rooms on the 
 floor above. 
 
 One evening in the latter part of September, 
 Horace went upstairs to visit his friend. It was a 
 warm evening, and Will was sitting, hugging one 
 knee, on one of the wide window-seats. 
 
 "Don t light up," said Horace, as Will rose and 
 struck a match. "There is something novel and 
 interesting in this ghostliness. Go back to your 
 window; I 11 take the other one." 
 
 "All right," said Will. "Light a cigar, if you 
 have one about you. I suppose I m inhospitable 
 
298 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 not to have any to offer a fellow, but, to tell the 
 truth, I never thought of it before." 
 
 "It s more considerate of you to be without," 
 said Horace, settling himself in his window and 
 lighting one from his case. "Not being a smoker, 
 you could not select them satisfactorily; you d be 
 cheated and I should have to smoke poison and make 
 believe I liked it. By Jupiter, this is ghostly! " he 
 exclaimed, looking out of the window. 
 
 The full moon was just rising over the chimneys 
 along Second Avenue and shone across a large 
 graveyard in the centre of the square. A dark 
 stone wall about fifteen feet high surrounded the 
 cemetery, and lent itself on its four sides for the 
 house yards to back up against. Here and there 
 vines climbed from the graves, between the marble 
 tablets built in at regular distances from one an 
 other along the inner surface of the walls. Some 
 times the vines reached and covered the wall-top, 
 concealing a part of it, and, in a few places, they 
 met other vines which climbed up from the yards, 
 and they became hopelessly entangled, as each 
 struggled to get over the wall into the other s do 
 main. 
 
 As the moon rose higher, its light shone between 
 the trees and shrubbery upon the white slabs. 
 
 "They look like ghostly sentinels," Horace said, 
 after watching them a while. 
 
 " What looks like what ? " asked Will. His mind 
 was back with the steamer which had carried Grace 
 away. The graveyard was too familiar to him to 
 excite any particular interest or sentiment. He 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 299 
 
 asked his question idly and sent his mind back 
 again directly where it wanted to be. 
 
 "Those slabs, set in the wall over the vaults," 
 said Horace, who had not seen the place before by 
 moonlight. "I say they look like grim sentinels. 
 If they only had something to guard, it would be 
 an improvement. A few tombstones, the merest 
 sprinkle of monuments, would be hilarious compared 
 with this barren emptiness. Those underground 
 vaults seem so unsocial, so unneighborly. Perhaps 
 the occupants come out of an evening and make it 
 up to one another. If they do, I hope they won t 
 take to soaring and come upon us, up here, una 
 wares! I wonder if they object to tobacco smoke! " 
 
 "Who object?" asked Will, making an effort 
 and coming back to his surroundings. 
 
 "Some enterprising ghost or frisky hobgoblin 
 who might leave one of the vaults down there and 
 come up to gossip with us. I wondered if he d 
 object to tobacco, and what would be the effect of 
 a puff of smoke into his through his vacuum." 
 Horace was grimly fascinated by his train of 
 thought. 
 
 "Speak respectfully of the inhabitants of these 
 tombs, old fellow," said Will. "And if they ap 
 pear, take off your hat. They come from genuine 
 old Knickerbocker nobility and will be stately 
 ghosts, I assure you." 
 
 "Ah, that s comforting," said Horace. "If I 
 should see one, it would be interesting to spot him. 
 I won t mind about my cigar then; these fellows 
 will recognize it as a genuine Habaila, and will re- 
 
300 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 gard its ashes as equivalent to a courtesy on my 
 part." He knocked his cigar ashes into space and 
 peered idly down into the yards. There was a 
 slight disturbance of some kind in the yard next 
 door, in the further corner, by the cemetery wall, 
 where the vines were thickest. It was over in an 
 instant; a cat, probably, returning from a stroll 
 along the smooth wall-top, Horace thought. 
 
 It was growing late. The lights in the windows 
 of the houses in the next street were put out grad 
 ually, and somebody who had been playing "The 
 Maiden s Prayer" indefatigably, upon a piano 
 worthy of a better cause, stopped. 
 
 The other occupants of the house which the young 
 men were in settled for the night, and excepting an 
 occasional sound of blinds being closed and of gen 
 eral shutting up, there was soon nothing to be heard 
 but the hum of some voices in conversation in a 
 room next door. For a long time the young men 
 were silent. They were purposely avoiding the only 
 subject which interested them. Horace rose, pre 
 paratory to leaving, and stood for a minute with his 
 hands in his pockets, looking at the graveyard. 
 
 "It is strangely quiet, even for the hour, consid 
 ering we are in a great city," he observed. 
 
 "Yes," said Will, rising and joining him. "The 
 ghosts are decorous, you see; we are Quakers and 
 next door to Quakers, and in the house beyond, 
 Dr. Brenton s, they speak principally the silent 
 language, as they call it. Mrs. Brenton is a deaf 
 mute." 
 
 "I have heard of her," said Horace. "Miss 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 301 
 
 Stanwood says the language, as she speaks it, is 
 most expressive. I heard somebody else call it 
 the language of the heart, but that s sentimen 
 tal." 
 
 "That describes it imperfectly," said Will, "but 
 it isn t over-sentimental, either. I tell you, Des- 
 borough, it takes you mighty near heaven to see 
 the children in there put their prayers into signs. 
 I m intimate there, and Mrs. Brenton lets me into 
 the nursery sometimes. When they get to going, 
 there s a good deal of heart in the language, after 
 all." 
 
 It was cheerful to hear Will talk about anything, 
 he had been so silent. Horace encouraged him, 
 professing curiosity concerning the language of 
 mutes. 
 
 "It s as good as a play," Will went on, "to see 
 the three-year-old make the sign of the eagle, tweak 
 ing her nose for the beak and flapping her arms for 
 the wings. Her language is something beside heart, 
 it is unmitigated mischief." 
 
 "I have heard of Mrs. Brenton conversing with 
 two people at once," said Horace. 
 
 "Yes, and then it s witchcraft," said Will. 
 " Well, there are plenty of tongues that hang in 
 the middle, but"- He stopped to lean forward 
 and see again if there was anything moving in the 
 corner of the yard next door. The shadows were 
 too black to see. He watched them for a moment, 
 his curiosity awakening. As he drew back, Will 
 was saying, "advantage over all tongues, native and 
 foreign." 
 
302 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Yes," said Horace, his mind going back to a 
 picture of Mrs. Brenton talking to two people at 
 once. "A case where, literally, the left hand does 
 not know what the right hand doeth. A long 
 note from a violin almost under the window stopped 
 him. 
 
 "Ah! " exclaimed Will, in a tone of satisfaction. 
 "You can t go now, sit down again and let s 
 have it together. We need n t talk about languages 
 of the heart, or witchcraft either; we 11 hear both." 
 The violin notes sounded intervals, as it was being 
 tuned, while Will said, "That is Ole Bull s violin; 
 he is in Aunt Maria s parlor. You may as well 
 settle down for another hour, Desborough. This is 
 the first night of the regular season; we shall hear 
 lots of the best music from these windows, which are 
 better than any private boxes at the Tabernacle." 
 
 "There s a mark of deference I have never ob 
 served before," said Horace, drawing in from the 
 window out of which he had been leaning half his 
 
 O 
 
 length. "There was the buzz of a good number of 
 voices in that room before Ole Bull began to tune 
 his instrument, but every one hushed with the first 
 note. It is so at the concerts, too; the audience 
 listens even to the tuning, unwilling to lose a sound. 
 I am glad it is warm enough for Mrs. Child to leave 
 the windows open." 
 
 "If the weather admits of it at all, she always 
 lowers the one this way a little, in consideration for 
 me. I ve sat here with my overcoat and hat on 
 many a time." 
 
 The pianist, making ready for an accompaniment, 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 303 
 
 struck a few chords vigorously and trifled skillfully 
 a moment with arpeggios. 
 
 "Now," said Will, "we are in for a treat. And 
 yes we are to begin with witchcraft. Here 
 comes The Carnival of Venice, and we are going 
 to have all that is weird and uncanny out of Pan 
 demonium. But don t hold the population of this 
 graveyard responsible! They are shutting them 
 selves up in their tombs, with offended dignity. 
 Silly of them! Ole Bull is a sorcerer, and can 
 charm them out again any minute." 
 
 Will remained standing at Horace s window while 
 "The Carnival," with all its antics, sang, danced, 
 laughed, cried, scolded, and shrieked. With its 
 closing notes the listeners next door and the two 
 young men at their window broke, simultaneously, 
 into an answering laugh. 
 
 "Walpurgis Night!" said Horace. "Witches 
 and broomsticks! Imps and forked lightning! I 
 believe the man is intimate with em all. Odd to 
 think of those incantations going on over the heads 
 of the quiet old Quaker couple downstairs! " 
 
 "Father and Mother Holly are guardian angels," 
 said Will. "Their presence in the house is protec 
 tion against the possible enchantments of Ole Bull s 
 mischievous spirits. 
 
 "He plays with supernatural advantages," said 
 Horace. "From what Grace says, I should call 
 Mrs. Child s room enchanted." And he whistled 
 delicately the carnival air, while Will, settling in 
 an armchair beside him, was saying, "Yes, that will 
 work a quieter charm later on, if you notice." 
 
304 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 It was impossible to get rid of "The Carnival" 
 immediately. There was an interval of talk in Mrs. 
 Child s room and another gay, fantastic tune from 
 the violin. Will and Horace listened silently, with 
 nothing to say to each other. Then all was quiet 
 next door for so long a time that it seemed as if the 
 music were done with for the night. But presently, 
 out of perfect stillness, Schubert s "Ave Maria" 
 floated into the night and drove the mind of Will 
 Hedges away out to sea. What was Grace doing? 
 Was she asleep? Ave Maria! Will s soul fol 
 lowed, with the notes of the violin, a wordless prayer 
 for Grace, so fervently that he did not hear Hor 
 ace s exclamation at the end of the song, or notice 
 just where the violin went into " The Last Rose of 
 Summer," or from that into "John Anderson." 
 And the tenderness of the wonderful instrument 
 reached its height with "John Anderson," for it 
 was the player s fancy to call down a benediction 
 with it upon "Father and Mother Holly." Will 
 had meant to tell Horace how Ole Bull dedicated 
 his playing of that song to them. But his mind had 
 got upon Grace and the music all meant her to him, 
 nothing else. It was Schubert s "Wanderer" but 
 W r ill did not know it which started him upon a 
 mournful train of thought. " Grace was torn away 
 from him. He had let her go without fighting for 
 her, as he might have done. To let her be taken 
 away so was to play with her happiness, her peace. 
 And now it was too late to help it ! He knew her 
 heart ; she could not change to him, and this parting- 
 meant desolation. Something fell upon his hand. 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 305 
 
 Tears ? Had he been crying ? He started, wonder 
 ing if Horace could have seen him. He had forgotten 
 Horace s very existence. It was of no consequence, 
 for Horace had apparently forgotten him, also, and 
 was leaning over, looking down into the graveyard 
 again. He could not keep his eyes away from it. 
 
 The violin had stopped. When ? Will had not 
 noticed. He knew by the quiet and the darkness 
 of Mrs. Child s window that her company had gone. 
 The loneliness and dreariness of night settled down 
 to stay. A light breeze sprung up and was swaying 
 the branches in the cemetery. It swept through 
 the trees with a pleasant sound, beginning off at the 
 farther end, and, coming with a gentle rush down 
 to a large pine-tree opposite the house, made its 
 loudest swell there and then trailed itself away, 
 along the vines on the wall-top, and died. After a 
 moment or two it came again and Will listened, 
 trying to make it into a rhythm, like waves rolling 
 in upon a beach. When the vines rattled it was 
 the foam dashing against not the beach, but the 
 side of a vessel which was ploughing its way through 
 the ocean and carrying with it all that was worth 
 living for. The breeze came like a moan, and, at 
 its swell in the big tree, rose to a pitiful cry which 
 could get no answer. It sobbed itself away again, 
 away, almost into stillness, and then changed 
 once more into sobs and grew 
 
 Will started suddenly as if he had received a 
 shock. 
 
 "What is it?" he exclaimed. He spoke softly, 
 but his voice, in the stillness, seemed loud. 
 
306 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Horace had touched him and was pointing down 
 to the yard below. 
 
 "Hush!" he whispered. "Watch that corner, 
 next door! Move this way, out of the moonlight. 
 I saw a head there a moment ago. I believe a 
 burglar is hiding under There ! " 
 
 There was a movement and rustle among the 
 vines, and the head and shoulders of some one ap 
 peared over the shadows. For only a second. 
 
 A dark shape laid itself on the tangle of vines 
 and dropped on the other side of the wall. There 
 was a scramble among some bushes and the sound of 
 fleeing feet. 
 
 "What shall we do? Alarm the police?" asked 
 Horace. 
 
 It took Will an instant or two to fully awake 
 from his dreaming and get his mind to work practi 
 cally. Then he said, " There is only one exit to the 
 cemetery, and that is a difficult one, on Second 
 Avenue. Two high gates to climb, with a carriage 
 way between." 
 
 "Come on, old fellow," said Horace, eager for an 
 adventure. "We re in for a masquerade ! " 
 
 They stole cautiously out of the house and hurried 
 around the corner to the exit which Will had de 
 scribed. They peered between the bars of the high 
 iron gate, but saw no one. The street seemed de 
 serted. Far down town the lights of a pair of coach 
 lanterns were moving slowly along and the rumble 
 of a heavy wagon sounded in the distance. Will 
 drew Horace into the shadow of an undertaker s shop 
 door, next the gate. "Let s watch here," he said. 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 307 
 
 They had scarcely stationed themselves when two 
 men turned the corner of the street, stood for a 
 moment and looked about them in every direction, 
 and walked slowly by. As they came within hear 
 ing one was saying, "She says the Brooklyn nig 
 ger s is the most likely place, and she is deuced 
 clever." The other said, "And she has been to the 
 nigger s and could show us the spot before" 
 
 Will tried to hear more, but the men passed 
 along and, turning the next corner, disappeared. 
 
 "Accomplices?" asked Horace. 
 
 " No may be. Listen ! " said Will. They could 
 hear nothing but the roll of the coach wheels coming 
 nearer. 
 
 " Whoever the burglar is, I m thinking he has 
 decided to stay a while in the graveyard," said Hor 
 ace. "If the ghosts there would be practical and 
 energetic enough to hold on to him for us, I d be a 
 convert to spiritualism. Could he have got away 
 before we reached here?" 
 
 "Did you hear what those men said?" asked 
 Will. 
 
 "Yes," said Horace. "What do you suppose 
 they meant?" 
 
 "Wish I knew," said Will. "Come look 
 through the gate again; nobody is in sight." 
 
 There was nothing to see. The moon could not 
 edge a ray of light into the carriage way. 
 
 "Shall I strike a match?" asked Horace. 
 
 "Yes; if any one sees, they 11 think you re light 
 ing a cigar," said Will. 
 
 Horace put two matches together, to make the 
 
308 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 flame larger. By its light they perceived a rope 
 hanging from the gate spikes. Examining it, they 
 found that it was curiously knotted into loops. 
 Horace used the loops as a ladder and climbed over 
 into the driveway. 
 
 "Hedges, the plot thickens," he whispered be 
 tween the bars. This is a regularly contrived 
 means of escape. The villain has been making his 
 ladder during the evening, in that dark corner of 
 your neighbor s yard. I wouldn t give a penny 
 for the ghosts." 
 
 "Examine the big door at the other end," said 
 Will. "Feel don t strike a match this time; no 
 body will suspect you of getting in there for a 
 smoke! " 
 
 "By Jove!" said Will, when Horace passed a 
 tangled bunch of rope through the bars to him. 
 "Knotted in the same way; he s a clever one." 
 
 "I ve treed him now, unless he got away too soon 
 for us," Horace said, and climbed back into the 
 street. 
 
 A shadow moved within a few paces of them, and 
 a policeman walked lazily up to where they stood 
 and asked what they were going to do with those 
 ropes. In a moment they knew that he had been 
 watching them, and Horace explained. Will tried 
 to turn the officer s mind on the suspicion of some 
 one who had had ample time to escape. 
 
 " T ain t loikely it s a thafe a-toll," said the 
 watchman, in a surly tone, peering through the bars 
 and throwing the light from his lantern into the 
 carriage way. "It s a dull one that d be runnin 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 309 
 
 such chances for the sake of what he d be foinding 
 in the house yez are afther designa-ting. There s 
 nivver the fool amongst the thaves that don t know 
 there d be nothin to shtale in the house of a 
 Quaker, an the Shtates Prison to risk for it. An 
 it s no fool of a rogue that d make these here con- 
 vaniences," shaking the ropes, "an not be con- 
 thrivin enough to take em along a ways wid him, 
 instid of lavin em behint for jist the ivvydence the 
 detictives 11 be wantin ." 
 
 "In heaven s name, who could it be but a thief? " 
 asked Will impatiently. "And what s the use of 
 evidence when he has had time to get to the Bat 
 tery?" 
 
 "An may be yez might give a bit more infarma- 
 tion about him, if yez were incloined that wa-ay ! " 
 said the officer insolently. 
 
 "We may incline to do something else, if you re 
 not careful," said Horace indignantly, and would 
 have said more if Will had not nudged him. 
 
 "It s me advice that yez take yer incloinations 
 whome wid yez, an not be givin me anny of yer 
 divvel s blackguard impartinence, for me to put wid 
 me tistymony in the court, whin 1 m called oop to 
 rela-ate the fax about two dacent gintlemen eloimb- 
 ing the gate of the graveyarrud, ^wid the ropes in 
 their han s, as familiar as if they d been aidin in 
 an elopement an 
 
 He straightened himself up suddenly and with a 
 quick gesture of command, motioned Will and Hor 
 ace to be silent. His attention was fixed upon the 
 corner of the next cross-street over opposite. 
 
310 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Four young men turned it, walking abreast, with 
 their arms interlinked, keeping step with "The 
 Low -backed Car," which they were whistling. 
 They had gone far enough on their way down Sec 
 ond Avenue for their steps and whistling to grow 
 faint in the distance, when a figure suddenly darted 
 across the corner and sped like a deer into the cross- 
 street and down toward the river. Will s motion 
 to follow was cut short by the restraining hold of 
 the officer. 
 
 "Stay here!" said the watchman, flinging the 
 ropes over into the cemetery driveway and rushing 
 away in pursuit of the person running. 
 
 His order was idle, of course, for Horace and 
 Will were off like the wind. Lighter of foot, more 
 fleet, and younger, they overtook and passed the 
 watchman in no time. Will took the lead, and they 
 ran through Second Street, down First Avenue, 
 across Bond and Bleecker, through Houston, down 
 Avenue A, as if they were themselves the pursued. 
 From one point or another they were joined by 
 others, so that before long an indefinite number of 
 men had joined them, each running because the 
 others did, and no one, excepting William Hedges, 
 knowing what for. The officer was following, occa 
 sionally giving signals for other watchmen, by ring 
 ing his club upon the pavement, but he had lost 
 track of the object of his chase. 
 
 Presently Will, having gone as far as his purpose 
 required, slackened his speed, allowing the runners 
 to pass him. Horace thought Will was giving up 
 the chase, but suddenly, in the neighborhood of 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 311 
 
 Grand Street, lie wheeled around and with all his 
 speed ran in the direction of up town. Back, across 
 Houston, Bleecker, and Bond, he turned at First 
 Street and ran eastward. At Avenue C he slowed 
 again and stopped, dropping upon the doorstep of a 
 tenement house to recover breath. Horace leaned 
 against the railing, panting and blowing. For a mo 
 ment neither of them could speak, but Will kept his 
 eyes in the direction of the river. Horace pointed 
 south and panted, "They all went that way." 
 
 "I know wait! We re wasting time," 
 gasped Will. 
 
 "Of course we are we have n t been do 
 ing anything else," Horace panted. Will got up 
 and leaned against a lamp-post, still looking toward 
 the river. 
 
 "What did we run for, anyway? " Horace asked, 
 as they walked eastward, and, a sense of the absurd 
 ity striking him, he broke into peals of laughter. 
 "Such a ridiculous chase!" he exclaimed between 
 the peals. "Ha! ha! ha! Hedges & Desborough, 
 in a panic to get back their neighbor s spoons, 
 ha! ha! rush hopelessly after the thief and leave 
 their neighbor s premises unprotected! Their back 
 door is probably open, you know, and their kitchen 
 full of burglars this very minute. Don t you think 
 it would serve our neighbors interests as well, part 
 ner, if we went back and protected the remaining 
 property, to say nothing of their lives?" 
 
 But Will did not seem to hear what Horace was 
 talking about. "Look ahead! You watch the 
 right side and I 11 watch the left of the next block," 
 he said. 
 
312 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "All right!" said Horace. "I will hold on to 
 my part in the drama as long as it entertains you, 
 old chap. I d like to understand my role a little 
 better, though; are we to make a rush and collar 
 the villain, when we overtake him, and call for the 
 police?" 
 
 "No, collar the watch and save the villain," 
 said Will in a low tone. "I don t like to speak my 
 mind in the open street, but, if the villain is the 
 person who climbed over the cemetery wall, he or 
 she started from a place suggestive of something 
 beside burglary. I come nearer I believe she s 
 a fugitive Havilah herself, perhaps ! What those 
 men said about somebody pointing out the nigger s 
 sent my mind, like a shot, over to Scipio s. That 
 child is there, and the person running away to 
 night is sh ! a woman, Desborough ! " 
 
 "Hm! so!" said Horace. "Don t worry, I ll 
 be guarded in my remarks, then your mind is 
 where the watchman s landed, on Juliet. Eomeo 
 wouldn t have needed such elaborate ladders, and 
 he would never have left em behint for ivvy- 
 dence; I m inclined to believe that it was Juliet 
 who went from our neighbor s to visit the tombs, 
 and that the lady whom you have observed is identi 
 cal with her." 
 
 They walked half a block farther and then simul 
 taneously halted and stepped under the low shed 
 of a dilapidated little building on the corner. A 
 woman appeared half a block ahead of them, hurry 
 ing toward the river. 
 
 "Don t let her see us," said Will. "She ll 
 
A VIOLIN, AND SHADOWS. 313 
 
 think we re after her. We 11 head her off, if we 
 can." 
 
 They dodged rapidly and cautiously, in and out 
 among the shadows, but when they came out upon 
 the low buildings and wharves along the river edge, 
 the woman was nowhere to be seen. Once more 
 they stood concealed, in the shadow of a pile of old 
 casks. 
 
 "After all, she may not have been Juliet," whis 
 pered Horace presently. "She may be anybody, 
 you know, and have gone into some shanty." 
 
 "She is the person whom we have followed from 
 the first," Will whispered, "and she is escaping 
 from something." 
 
 "She is"- 
 
 "God! Look at her! " cried Horace, in an awful 
 whisper. 
 
 At the end of a long wharf in front of them, for 
 the flash of a second the woman s figure appeared, 
 outlined against the sky. She ran along the edge 
 of the dock and then, with a wild gesture, gave a 
 leap into the darkness and was gone. 
 
 The only cry was from the two young men who 
 saw her. They rushed to where she had been and 
 stood for an instant looking down at the water, black 
 and dreadful in the great shadow of the dock. 
 There was nothing to be heard except the heavy 
 plashing of the tide. Will and Horace listened 
 painfully for a cry or sound to tell them where to 
 look for the desperate woman. They were certain 
 that she had leaped into the water. She was drown 
 ing, and they could see no sign or trace to help them 
 
314 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 save her. Their coats and shoes were off; Will, 
 clinging to a log, climbed down over the edge of the 
 wharf and stood on a projecting beam peering into 
 the shadows. 
 
 "Don t do anything crazy think of Grace!" 
 cried Horace, over him. "Come back! We must 
 find a rope." Will leaped back with the aid of 
 Horace s hand and they looked for a rope. They 
 could not find one and for a few minutes ran des 
 perately back and forth trying to see or hear some 
 thing. There was nothing but silence and black 
 ness, which were ghastly. How long they were 
 there they did not know. Every minute seemed an 
 eternity. 
 
 "Come home, Will, come home! " Horace begged 
 at last. "There s nothing we can do now. For 
 God s sake come home, and may this everlasting 
 night end sometime! " 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DANGER. 
 
 THE first thing which Will and Horace did the 
 next morning, after an early breakfast, was to call 
 upon Friend Holly and give him a full account of 
 their experiences of the night. To their surprise 
 they found no ground upon which to base the sus 
 picion that the poor creature whom they had seen 
 throw herself from the dock was a runaway slave. 
 Friend Holly had had no occasion to harbor a fugi 
 tive for several weeks. Havilah Moore was staying 
 at the Mortons , and there had been no intimation 
 whatever that her master was again in pursuit of 
 her. On the evening before, she had brought a 
 note from Mrs. Morton to Mrs. Holly, but, as it re 
 quired no answer, had not waited. Friend Holly 
 questioned the servant who had admitted her, and 
 she said definitely that she had seen Havilah go, 
 and that "she should think everybody in the house 
 might have heard her bang the door after her." 
 Friend Holly s servant was cross and grumbled, 
 "That Hav lah always slams the door after her; 
 she ain t got no manners, an she never did have 
 any." 
 
 The yard was examined and unmistakable traces 
 of some intruder were discovered. The ladder had 
 
316 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 been moved from its place, the vines disturbed and 
 broken, and the clothesline had disappeared. 
 
 After a little consultation Friend Holly and the 
 young men decided that the yard had been used as 
 a convenient workshop for the maker of the rope 
 ladders, but this was the only conclusion which they 
 reached. 
 
 The woman who had thrown herself from the 
 wharf was probably some unhappy, desperate crea 
 ture who had nothing to do with the person who 
 climbed the graveyard wall. There were plenty of 
 them, poor souls, to spring up from almost anywhere 
 in a big city. Of course, inquiry as to Havilah had 
 better be made at once, but the chance was that she 
 was safe at Friend Morton s. 
 
 The young men started upon the business of the 
 day, Will to the office of Messrs. Hedges & Desbor- 
 ough, Horace up town to make a business call upon 
 a client. It was difficult to get his mind into work 
 ing order, and he was rather glad not to find his 
 client at home. He started to walk down town to 
 his office and was glad of the extra distance made 
 by his errand. Reaching Union Square, he went 
 through one of the gates in the high iron fence 
 which enclosed the park circle. Just as he did so, 
 Rachel Stan wood entered the park by another gate, 
 with her little brother and sister. She was carrying 
 several parcels hugged against her left side and the 
 children stopped her to add their two small lunch- 
 baskets which they wanted her to hold while they 
 had a little play. Rachel caught sight of Horace 
 and instinctively wanted to avoid letting him see her 
 so awkwardly encumbered. 
 
DANGER. 317 
 
 Impulsively she turned to put the children off, 
 and exclaimed a little nervously, " Wait ! Perhaps 
 we had better not stop this morning. I 11 come 
 with you to " Betty protested, "Thee said 
 
 there d be more than twenty minutes if we would n t 
 poke, and we hurried like everything, and I know 
 something 11 happen to-morrow! " 
 
 Rachel could not hear what Betty said, because 
 Dick was pleading in a shrill voice, "Oh, do stop, 
 Strachel " - his abbreviation of " Sister Eachel " 
 " Betty has made up a lovely play all on horseback, 
 and they re trimming the bushes so we can get 
 splendid whips, and I m going to make my horse 
 canter like cr-acky! " The children s faces looked 
 as if their last hope of salvation hung upon their 
 sister s consent. She did not hear half they said, 
 but resigned herself to a pitiful sort of martyrdom 
 of which they were totally unconscious. She looked 
 at Horace and thought he had never looked more 
 noble, more like Susy Morton s "Lord Duke." 
 She was conscious of the mended, rubbed finger-tips 
 of her gloves, and her faded summer s bonnet. The 
 lunch baskets were the last straw. One was too 
 full, so that the cover would not go down, and the 
 other had a missing handle supplied with a piece 
 of red tape; it looked, moreover, as if Dick had 
 supplied it himself. Rachel s martyrdom was pa 
 thetic ; a young girl minds such things. She might 
 easily have retreated through the gateway, close by. 
 But the family principles prevented her. They laid 
 down the laws of morality with severity, and re 
 fused to those of conventionality even so much as a 
 
318 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 hearing. "Do nothing you are ashamed to have 
 the eye of the world look upon," they said. They 
 were very noble, but at times very uncomfortable 
 principles. Rachel s heart ached to set them aside 
 just long enough to hide her parcels and her shabbi- 
 ness from Horace; then, despising herself for the 
 wish, she rather forced them upon him. 
 
 "Ra Miss Stanwood!" he exclaimed joyfully, 
 with his hand extended. "Good-morning! Where 
 are you going? On a picnic?" 
 
 "It looks like it," she said laughing, and ex 
 plained. "No, no! " she exclaimed, as he was tak 
 ing possession of the baskets. "You shall not be 
 victimized; I am used to it, but you are not." 
 
 "It is time I was then," he said, taking all the 
 things from her, with quiet authority. "Don t be 
 unkind!" 
 
 "It isn t unkindness; it is justice," she said. 
 "There is no reason why I should put my burdens 
 upon you." 
 
 "Is there not? " he asked, catching her words up 
 quickly. "You are unkind again, for I want there 
 to be every reason. Some day " 
 
 It was hard to stop, but he made himself do it. 
 
 She was rosy red, and her happy eyes betrayed the 
 pleasure it was to be in his company. The family 
 principles were already forgotten, and could not, by 
 any possibility, trouble either of these young people. 
 Horace had to remember vigorously that his busi 
 ness did not at present justify anything like serious 
 love-making. He reminded himself sharply that he 
 had better prove his ability to manage his own bur- 
 
DANGER. . 319 
 
 dens before he asked for the responsibility of Miss 
 Rachel Stanwood s. So he looked at the bundles 
 and the shabby little baskets and turned his talk 
 into banter. 
 
 "I don t call it either kind or just in you to infer 
 that it is out of my line to make myself useful," 
 he said. "You gave me a magnificent drilling at 
 the time of the Anti-Slavery Fair, and I have had 
 a number of lessons since. Haven t I a talisman 
 which commemorates my skill in threading a net 
 ting-needle? If my hands were not full, I d show 
 it to you. No," holding the baskets up beyond 
 her reach, "you may not have them. I insist 
 upon being trusted without proof. You must be 
 lieve that I have my talisman in safe-keeping, and 
 also that I am a working member of society and 
 have begun to take life seriously." 
 
 "Well, you are taking it very unornamentally 
 this morning, to say the least," Rachel said gayly. 
 "But I decline to be responsible. You might easily 
 say that pressing business obliges you to hurry down 
 town to the office of Messrs. Hedges & Desborough. 
 I should believe it, you know." 
 
 "And now you are getting sarcastic," Horace 
 said, laughing. "I have just been to call on my 
 only client and my work on his case will barely oc 
 cupy me half an hour a day for a week ! My most 
 pressing business is to keep up a show of occupation 
 sufficient to maintain the respect of our office boy, 
 Master Dennis Dougherty. And that is not so 
 pressing as it is difficult and complicated." 
 
 They laughed together, and he went on amusing 
 
320 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 her with an exaggerated tale of the devices resorted 
 to by Messrs. Hedges & Desborough to give their 
 office an aspect of business. 
 
 In the midst of his account, Betty and Dick came 
 cantering up to them on imaginary horses. Their 
 play was anything but graceful. Betty s efforts to 
 represent a superb and graceful rider w r ere marred 
 by the necessity of making her legs do duty for 
 the horse, and her prancing was ungainly. Dick 
 shouted and hallooed in his character of rider, but 
 as a fiery steed he reared, plunged, balked, and 
 stamped until he rolled over on the edge of one of 
 the grass plots and broke down in fits of laughter. 
 Betty, as she suddenly caught sight of Horace, 
 worked her features into astonishing grimaces, to 
 cover her embarrassment, and advanced with a new 
 and awful package of molasses ginger-cakes done 
 up in a piece of mustard-colored coarse paper. 
 
 Rachel said, "Oh, children !" and tried to dust 
 off Dick. Dick shared his fun with Horace by 
 laughing up into his face. The family principles 
 did not trouble him a bit. Betty made an effort 
 to stuff the ginger-cakes into her basket, gave it 
 up and hugged her green -yellow parcel contentedly. 
 She innocently accounted for it to Rachel, saying, 
 
 "We found an old woman outside one of the 
 gates, over the other side, with a stand full of pea 
 nuts and cakes and things, and I bought these for 
 Mr. Jacob Abbott because he is going to read a 
 story specially for Emily Brinckeroff and me." 
 
 "/bought taffy; want a bite? " said Dick, hold 
 ing it up to Horace. 
 
DANGER. 321 
 
 Here Rachel interfered with decision and, after a 
 short altercation, confiscated the candy as forbidden 
 fruit, gave the children their baskets and said that 
 it was time to go to school. 
 
 "So, Mr. Desborough, will you give me my 
 things now? " she asked. 
 
 o 
 
 Horace refused, saying that, having assumed the 
 responsibility of them, he meant to carry them to 
 their destinations, unless she forbade him. 
 
 "Ah, you would not like to be held to that bar 
 gain," she said, a shadow of sadness coming into 
 her face. It was the family principles reappear 
 ing to tell her that she ought to be ashamed of her 
 fear of shocking him. She was loyal and felt the 
 shame, but the fear remained. She wanted to ap 
 pear at her best before him, and to keep out of sight 
 things which would remind him of the differences 
 between them. She did not know that, with Hor 
 ace s eyes, there was nothing but her best to see. 
 
 " This goes with the children ; they branch off at 
 the next corner," she said, taking the smallest par 
 cel from him. They stopped at the corner and Ra 
 chel gave the parcel to Betty with messages which 
 divulged the fact that it contained a bottle of cough- 
 mixture which Mrs. Stanwood had made and was 
 sending to one of the child s teachers. 
 
 Dick, spying some of his school-fellows, ran to 
 join them, while Betty lingered to kiss her sister 
 good-by and to decide whether or not politeness re 
 quired her to extend the same courtesy to Horace. 
 She liked him and, deciding it was safest to do it, 
 held up her face. Horace bent instantly and re- 
 
322 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ceived the kiss with the assertion that it was one of 
 the sweetest he had ever been offered, and Betty 
 went her way with steps quickened by a happy con 
 sciousness of having done the politest thing, and the 
 pleasure in anticipation of presenting her cakes to 
 Mr. Jacob Abbott. 
 
 " Do you perform this sisterly office every morn 
 ing? " Horace asked, as they walked on down Uni 
 versity Place. 
 
 "No, I come only when something brings me out 
 early enough," she said, not yet over the annoyance 
 of thinking that he had been seeing the children 
 and her at a disadvantage. "We don t like them to 
 play alone in the park, so I come sometimes to give 
 them the opportunity. They don t often stop at 
 peanut-stands to buy gingerbread and taffy." Then 
 she was provoked at herself for explaining. 
 
 "I hope Mr. Abbott will appreciate the ginger 
 bread as he ought," said Horace deftly. 
 
 "He will be so pleased with my little sister s at 
 tention that he will not care where the cake came 
 from or what it is like," said Eachel. 
 
 "Now, where do we go next?" asked Horace, by 
 way of getting back to something personal. "I 
 want to be held to my agreement to take these 
 things where they are to go." 
 
 "They are going" Rachel began, and then 
 
 protested: "But no I can t take advantage of 
 your ignorance, Mr. Desborough. You never went 
 to such a place, and it would horrify you ; you must 
 let me go alone." 
 
 "What do you mean? If it would affect me so, 
 
DANGER. 323 
 
 why doesn t it you? Now you make me altogether 
 unwilling to give up my bargain, unless you have 
 strong personal reasons for objecting," Horace said, 
 and added seriously: "Do you really not wish me 
 to know where you are going, Miss Stan wood?" 
 
 "I do, and I don t," Rachel answered with frank 
 ness. "I" She waited to let some noisy vehi 
 cles go by and then told him: "I don t know what 
 you will think, Mr. Desborough, but I am going to 
 the Tombs." 
 
 " Alone ? " asked Horace. 
 
 "Yes; I am taking a book to one prisoner and 
 some work to another." Her tone was a little hard. 
 She knew she was shocking him and wanted it over 
 with. 
 
 He was silent a moment before he said : " That 
 is an errand I can do for you. Give me the names 
 of the prisoners." 
 
 "Oh no, I cannot," she said. "I have some mes 
 sages for them and must show one woman how to do 
 the work. Indeed you must give me the parcels and 
 leave me to go by myself. I will take an omnibus." 
 
 "Not quite yet," he said. "Not at all, if I can 
 help it. Give me the messages and let the woman 
 find out how to do the work. Why should crimi 
 nals come in for the reward of a visit from you, Miss 
 Stanwood? Why should you go to a place where 
 there is nothing but contamination and evil, evil 
 which your eyes should not look upon? " 
 
 "I am sent there to give, not to receive," said 
 Rachel. "I have been taught that what I carry 
 into the prison may help even the worst there, but 
 
324 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 that I must bring nothing away with me. Mother 
 thinks that even the sight of a young person some 
 times makes the prisoners long to live decent, honest 
 lives. She does not believe in preaching. She be 
 lieves in giving them something to do and the chance 
 to talk with people who think there is a spark of 
 something in them which is worth saving that they 
 are not entirely bad." 
 
 "Nobody is entirely bad; we all believe that," 
 said Horace. "Everybody believes it, but" 
 
 "Yes, everybody believes it," said Rachel with a 
 shade of bitterness. "And it is very comfortable 
 to believe it as long as there is nothing to do about 
 it while the sinners are far enough away. But, 
 standing face to face with them, most people cover 
 up that belief so that the sinners never suspect it." 
 
 "I don t doubt that," said Horace, "but it does 
 not make me think that visiting the prison and talk 
 ing to criminals is work for you. It seems a little 
 like setting a premium on crime. I am sorry you 
 have begun this work, and I hope I hope very 
 much that your errand to-day is an exceptional one 
 and that you will not go to that dismal place often 
 enough to have it become familiar to " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Desborough, wait a moment before you 
 go on! " Rachel cried. She went on with a pitiful 
 courage : "I am not beginning any work; I am only 
 doing what I have done many times before. The 
 inside of the prison is perfectly familiar to me and 
 the matron calls me by my name. Sometimes I read 
 stories to the women. I can t preach to them, but 
 I can take them work and, may be, a little encour- 
 
DANGER. 325 
 
 agement to begin life in a new place when they 
 come out. As I said, I have been taught to bring 
 nothing away which belongs inside the gates, and 
 I hope I do not. I hope I do not! " 
 
 "You could not it would be impossible!" 
 Horace exclaimed earnestly. "Don t suppose for a 
 moment that I can think you could. Only you are 
 so " He stopped short, not daring to tell her 
 what he thought she was. Instead of finishing he 
 said : " I wish you went to places from which you 
 could bring away something. It seems to me you 
 are entitled to a little in return for all you give. 
 Are there not plenty of other charities?" 
 
 "Oh yes, plenty," she said, a little wearily. "I 
 might go respectably and comfortably into ever so 
 many. But there are plenty of people to take up 
 those." 
 
 They walked on silently awhile. They had been 
 so much interested that they had threaded their way 
 among the people without looking at anybody, or 
 observing the occasional acquaintance of one or the 
 other who looked at them for recognition. When 
 noisy vehicles came by they waited and resumed 
 what they had been saying without going back in 
 the conversation. The tone they had reached was 
 rather a dreary one. Rachel had a vague feeling 
 that her frankness had robbed her of something, 
 that she had made him see her in a new light in 
 which she appeared less attractive to him. She 
 made an effort to get into a lighter vein. 
 
 "It is of no use to try to place me where I don t 
 belong, Mr. Desborough," she exclaimed, trying to 
 
326 EACIIEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 make her tone a cheerful one. "The sympathies of 
 me and mine are naturally attracted by the lowest 
 among the poor. Perhaps there is plebeian blood 
 in our veins which helps us to understand them. 
 Perhaps it is only an accident that we are not 
 among them ourselves. There! I have told you 
 all you wanted to know, and more. I have taken 
 away your breath, I know, but," her voice grew 
 serious again, "I want you to know me as I am, 
 and to realize how different my life is from yours." 
 
 She expected him to laugh, but he knitted his 
 brows and looked pained, while he said: "Yes, 
 there is a vast difference," and sighed, thinking 
 how far above him she was. 
 
 Her face settled into an expression of patient sad 
 ness the sadder, to Horace s thinking, because 
 it seemed familiar. He thought it was the result 
 of her prison visiting and an undue intimacy with 
 sad aspects of life. But it was not ; it was because 
 their talk had made her feel herself upon a plane 
 which was different and set apart from his. And 
 she thought his remark about the "vast difference " 
 meant that he felt it also. 
 
 A harsh, grating laugh which had an unpleas 
 antly familiar sound, caught Rachel s ear, and she 
 involuntarily stopped to look whence it came. The 
 stream of people, going and coming in both direc 
 tions, made Mr. Desborough and her draw aside 
 toward the houses. As they did so, Horace heard 
 a low exclamation from Rachel, and, following her 
 eyes, saw approaching a gentleman with a lady 
 showily dressed leaning upon his arm. He recog- 
 
DANGER. 327 
 
 nized Mr. Suydan immediately, whom Rachel did 
 not see at once, for her eyes were riveted in amaze 
 ment upon the face of the lady upon the sharp, 
 hard face of Tibbie MacClare ! As the couple drew 
 near, Mr. Suydan raised his hat and bowed with a 
 show of great deference. 
 
 Tibbie, tossing her head as high as it would go, 
 looked scornfully at Rachel, flaunted her ribbons 
 and braceleted arm, and broke again into her rat 
 tling laugh. 
 
 "Why did you allow them to know you saw 
 them? Don t look after them let us move on!" 
 Horace exclaimed, in a vexed tone. 
 
 "Did you see her? It was Tibbie Miss Mac- 
 Clare I What ought I to do?" Rachel exclaimed 
 in much perturbation. 
 
 "Do?" exclaimed Horace indignantly. "Walk 
 on and widen the distance between them and you as 
 rapidly as possible. I don t know the lady, but 
 it is enough that she is in that man s company." 
 
 Rachel was looking at him with dazed eyes and a 
 face full of trouble. She went on anxiously, as if 
 her mind were feeling its way to something. " But 
 it was Tibbie. ! Tibbie was with him! She ran 
 away from us and she hadn t any money not a 
 penny! We have been pitying her for fear she 
 would suffer from want. But she has plenty ! She 
 was dressed like a rich lady ! And how did he find 
 her?" 
 
 These thoughts puzzled her while they walked on 
 rapidly for a block or two. Then a sudden alarm 
 seized her, and she exclaimed: "Oh, Mr. Desbor- 
 
328 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ough, there is something dreadful behind this! 
 Take me where I can tell you, without losing time." 
 
 They turned into a side street. "This will take 
 us away from the roar of Broadway," Horace said. 
 
 "I know what it means now," Rachel said has 
 tily. "He has found Havilah! Or Diana! That 
 is why he looked so wickedly glad. And Tibbie has 
 helped him somehow. She knew that little Di was 
 at Uncle Scipio s, and she had been there twice and 
 knew the way." Horace tried to remember what it 
 was that Will and he had heard those two men say 
 when they were at the cemetery gate. Will had 
 connected it with Scipio s at once. 
 
 " Where should we go to learn what to do about 
 it, Miss Stanwood? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 "Centre Street, the Anti-Slavery Standard office," 
 said Eachel. " We must tell them there that Havi- 
 lah s master is in the city, Mr. Desborough," she 
 drew nearer to speak confidentially, "Havilah has 
 disappeared! Susy Morton came early to tell us. 
 We must go the quickest way to the office." 
 
 Horace only assented. He made no answer to 
 what she had told him, but it set his thoughts into 
 a whirlwind. Havilah gone ! Then He was 
 too much excited to think of the circumstances and 
 make them coherent. 
 
 They went back to Broadway and took an omni 
 bus for down-town. In the rattle of it they could 
 not converse, and had time for thought. Horace 
 recalled now what those two men had said. Their 
 words fitted into Rachel s suspicions, certainly, but 
 he did not know whether or not to connect the woman 
 
DANGER. 329 
 
 whom Will and he had followed the night before 
 with Havilah. They could not be one and the same, 
 if the former was the person who had climbed over 
 the graveyard wall, for Havilah had left Friend 
 Holly s long before. What Rachel had told him 
 about her visits to the prison was making just this 
 difference to him until then he had had no thought 
 of telling her the story of the night before, but he 
 was now considering the advisability of doing so. 
 He was glad of the fact which, half an hour ago, he 
 had deplored that he had plenty of time to throw 
 away. 
 
 At the Anti-Slavery Standard office they found 
 Friend Morton, a short, stout Quaker gentleman, 
 closely shaved and very trig and neat in appearance, 
 wearing the plain gray clothes of his sect. Rachel 
 in pretty Quaker fashion introduced Horace, saying : 
 "This is my friend, Horace Desborough, " and with 
 out pause she added: "We have just seen Hav 
 ilah s master, and I think he has found her, Uncle 
 John ; I feel sure that he has ! " 
 
 "Ah! " Friend Morton exclaimed, and made no 
 other remark, excepting to ask a few questions to 
 draw from Rachel and Horace the assurance of their 
 recognition of Mr. Suydan. Satisfied on this point, 
 Friend Morton went to the door of another room, 
 and summoning a middle-aged, dark mulatto man 
 whom he called "Napoleon," gave him a slip of 
 paper upon which he had scribbled something, and 
 said to him quietly : " Send that through the same 
 list." Coming back, smiling and rubbing his hands, 
 he said: "Now, my young friends, if you have any 
 
330 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 further information to give, let us have it. Thee 
 looks surprised, Horace, but Rachel understands 
 our ways better." 
 
 Horace said: "I am learning some of them, Mr. 
 Morton, and if you will tell me of anything to be 
 done in this matter, I shall be glad to do it. There 
 seems to be no time to lose. AVhat steps do you 
 propose to take first? If there is anywhere to go, 
 or you have any messages to send, I am at your 
 service." 
 
 Friend Morton s benevolent face wrinkled all 
 over, with a smile of satisfaction as he said: "Louis 
 Napoleon is taking all the steps which are necessary 
 to begin with, and he has very quick legs for the ser 
 vice. Ha! ha!" laughed the old gentleman, "Thou 
 art not the first person whom I have surprised with 
 an announcement like that. Sit down, sit down, and 
 I will tell thee what Napoleon is doing." He drew 
 up chairs, and, when they were seated, said with 
 relish : " The colored man who was here a moment 
 ago was named Napoleon Lewis, but in compliment 
 to the Emperor of France he has transposed his 
 name and altered the spelling, calling himself Louis 
 Napoleon. It is really a great compliment to the 
 Emperor, who is vastly inferior in character to my 
 friend Louis. But now, as thee said, there is no 
 time to lose, and I see thou art anxious. As soon 
 as we knew of Havilah Moore s disappearance, we 
 telegraphed the word Disappeared to all of our 
 principal employees on the underground railroad, 
 and signed her initials, H. M. The moment I was 
 assured that your information concerning her mas- 
 
DANGER. 331 
 
 ter was correct, I sent Napoleon off with another 
 message, Kidnappers abroad, signed with the 
 same initials, to send through the same list. That 
 is all. Everybody receiving those telegrams will be 
 on the alert to harbor and protect any slave bearing 
 a name beginning with those letters, and Havilah s 
 master may have difficulty in getting her away from 
 the city. We have as yet discovered no legal flaw 
 in his claim of her and her child, but we may be 
 able to rescue her without. And now, if thee does 
 not object, I would like to hear again the experi 
 ence which thee and William Hedges had last night. 
 Friend Holly has been here this morning and told 
 me of it, but I want to go over it again. When 
 Friend Holly learned that Havilah had gone, he 
 was disposed to think that she might have been, 
 after all, the woman whom you followed ; and the 
 fact of her master being in the city gives still more 
 reason for the possibility." 
 
 The old gentleman adjusted his spectacles and 
 prepared to take notes of the important details of 
 the story. Horace told it carefully. 
 
 Rachel kept her e}^es fixed upon him, and her 
 cheeks burned with excitement. In the first part of 
 his story she added several questions to those which 
 Friend Morton asked, but from the point where 
 Horace and Will left their boarding-house, she did 
 not speak. 
 
 When Horace came to the tragic scene at the 
 wharf, he turned to her and said, as if it hurt him 
 to go on : "This is painful for you. Why need you 
 hear it?" 
 
332 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "I ^va?^t to hear it," she said, a little sharply be 
 cause of the emotion she concealed. " The poor girl 
 was the one who suffered, whoever she was and what 
 ever she had done who am / that I can t even 
 hear about her? " 
 
 She half turned from him as she spoke, leaned her 
 arm upon a table and shaded her eyes with her hand. 
 Through the rest of his story he could not see her 
 face. 
 
 When he had finished, Friend Morton looked 
 grave and sat a few minutes in deep thought. Then, 
 with a gesture as if he hopelessly put something 
 aside, he heaved a sigh and said : " Well, in all prob 
 ability the telegrams will be of no use. It looks to 
 me as if the poor creature were Havilah, and as if 
 she had taken her life. She has said repeatedly that 
 she would do it rather than go back to slavery. 
 Poor child ! Poor child ! I think she is with her 
 rightful Master at last." 
 
 "No!" exclaimed Rachel, rising and excited. 
 
 "That was somebody else. It was Havilah who 
 
 escaped over the wall. She tied the ropes and all, 
 
 and she was caught by those men ! I feel sure of it 
 
 -I know it!" 
 
 Her voice trembled as she spoke, and she went to 
 the window and stood with her back to Friend Mor 
 ton and Horace. 
 
 Horace went over to her and said earnestly: "I 
 think you are mistaken, but if you wish it I will do 
 anything, go anywhere you tell me. I will try with 
 all the power I have to find and rescue Havilah ; only 
 don t grieve about " 
 
DANGER. 333 
 
 She turned quickly and fixed her wide-open eyes 
 upon him while she said with spirit : " Grieve ? Let 
 us try to find Havilah first. There 11 be time 
 enough to cry when we either succeed or fail in 
 doing that." 
 
 She went back to Friend Morton and was vehe 
 ment in asserting that the slaveholder was the person 
 who knew where Havilah was, and that he ought to 
 be found and watched. 
 
 "His name is on some hotel book, no doubt," said 
 Friend Morton, "and there will be no harm in 
 watching his movements, but I am of opinion, Ra 
 chel child, that the person with whom you saw him 
 caused that peculiar expression of satisfaction which 
 has so impressed itself upon thy imagination. After 
 the story which thy friend Horace has told me, I 
 think the chances are very small that anybody will 
 find Havilah." 
 
 But Rachel was persistent. Her mind had seized 
 upon a little point which seemed to the others insig 
 nificant, but which, to her, identified the person who 
 had escaped through the cemetery as Havilah. It 
 was the little speech of the servant at Friend Holly s 
 about Havilah s leaving the house. 
 
 "All you know is that the servant said Havilah 
 banged the door after her when she went out," Ra 
 chel argued. "You all seem to imagine that the 
 cook waited upon Havilah to the street door ! I tell 
 you that the cook is an ignorant, cross Irish woman 
 who hates the sight of a colored person, and I don t 
 believe she so much as looked at Havilah while she 
 was in the house. She probably banged the kitchen 
 
334 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 door herself, as soon as Havilah left the room. Or 
 Havilah might have banged the front door purposely, 
 to make the cook think she had gone. But what 
 ever she did first, I believe she went back into the 
 yard afterwards, and that it was she whom you saw, 
 Mr. Desborough, in the dark corner there." 
 
 She was so urgent that Friend Morton decided to 
 let things proceed on the assumption that her theory 
 was correct. After its own method the Anti-Slavery 
 Society would discover Mr. Suydan s whereabouts, 
 if possible, and be on the watch to see if he at 
 tempted to take Havilah out of the city. 
 
 "And meanwhile, Rachel," said Friend Morton, 
 "continue on thy way. Go perform thy mission at 
 the Tombs and take thy friend with thee. If Hav 
 ilah has been captured, it is more than likely that 
 her master has placed her in prison for safe keeping 
 until he is ready to start for the South. The keepers 
 will let you make a tour of the prison, on pretense 
 of showing it to Horace. Don t betray your pur 
 pose. If you find Havilah there, come immediately 
 back here, and we shall know what to do next." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 HAVILAH. 
 
 BEFORE daybreak on that same morning, Scipio 
 Franklin, in his little shanty at Gowanus, disturbed 
 his wife s best sleep by getting his feet so entangled 
 with the rockers of a chair as to cause it to swing 
 and turn as if it had twenty rockers, and to stop it 
 self with a smart bang against the bedpost. 
 
 "Lawd, what s dat?" cried Peggy, sitting up 
 right with a bounce. 
 
 "Sh-sh-sh! Doan make a noise! " said Scipio. 
 
 "Massy sakes!" said Peggy, lowering her voice 
 into a stage-whisper. "What yo wakin me up fo 
 in de dead o eight to tell me dat, an makin no se 
 nuff yo se f to wake de hull grabeyahd! " 
 
 " Sh-sh-sh! " said Scipio, with a sound like the let 
 ting off of steam, and jabbing with a carpet slipper 
 at the gleam of his wife s nightcap. " Hoi yo bref ! 
 Dey s sump m de matta wid Willum Lloyd Gah son 
 outen de bahn, an I m gwine dah to fin out what 
 tis." 
 
 Peggy turned herself on a pivot and sat on the 
 edge of the bed while she protested vehemently: 
 "Yo Scipio Dolphus Franklin, yo better look out 
 fo yo own bones, an leab Willum Lloyd Gah son 
 to ten to hisse f, afo yo go to wuk onlockin de 
 
336 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 house-do an ? lettin de bloodhoun s an robbers in 
 yer! An I tell yo doan do it ef yo knows whar 
 yo senses is! " 
 
 "My senses lias a diff rent pinion, Peggy, an 
 dey makes a p ticklar quest datyo woan interfeah 
 wid em," said Scipio. 
 
 "Hm ! " grunted Peggy. "Den I reck n I better 
 gib em some can lelight to wuk by." While she 
 lighted a candle, she continued muttering: "Wen 
 yo* senses gits to conjurin , somebody better be roun 
 to take hoi an help wid what s gwine to happen. 
 Whar is yo , Misteh Franklin?" she asked aloud, 
 carrying her light to the door leading into the par 
 lor, where she discovered Scipio groping. "What s 
 yo huntin ?" 
 
 "De matches," said Scipio, blinking at the light. 
 
 "Mought a knowed you d go to Kingdom Come 
 fur em!" said Peggy. "W en yo fin s out de 
 can le s lit, mebby yo 11 splain to me w at s de 
 case." 
 
 "Dat s jes w at I m gwine to fin out," said 
 Scipio, putting his clothes on hastily. "Dey s 
 sump m Willum Lloyd Gah son doan prove ob 
 dat s all I know. An w at he doan prove ob 
 ain t right. I s yeard a quar kin o sturbance 
 two or free times. Dat s right, gib me de lantun." 
 
 He took the lantern she had lighted, snuggled it 
 inside of his coat and armed himself with a stout 
 cane. On his way to the door, in tucking the cane 
 under his arm, he switched off with it the cloth 
 which Peggy kept over the bust of Venus, on its 
 high shelf in the corner. 
 
HAVILAH. 337 
 
 "Ya-ah! " cried Peggy, stepping backward into 
 the bedroom. 
 
 Robbers and bloodhounds were remote scarecrows 
 to Peggy, but the white head of Venus was a reality. 
 
 "Put it back afo yo step outen dat do , Scip," 
 she said. "Watebber s gwine on at de bahn, I 
 ain t gwine to stay yer lone wid dat grabeyahd- 
 image rarin up its ole head ober me ! " Scipio gave 
 his wife a look of scorn, readjusted the cloth over 
 Venus, and went out of the front door. 
 
 Peggy set the candle on the bureau in the bedroom 
 and proceeded to partially dress herself, putting on 
 her shoes and a dressing-gown which had the shape 
 of an extinguisher. She went into the parlor, lighted 
 the lamp, and then went to look out at the window, 
 toward the barn. 
 
 She could see the gleam of the lantern, but that 
 was all. Everything was quiet. She decided that 
 the only things out of kilter were her husband s 
 senses. 
 
 "An dey d be a heap better off ef he d lowed 
 em to stay in bed whah dey b longs dis time o 
 night," she grumbled. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Franklin enjoyed each other s pecu 
 liarities, and whatever personalities were bandied 
 between them were in the way of pleasantry. It was 
 their method of joking, that was all. 
 
 Peggy, looking out of the window, began to get 
 tired of her husband s delay. 
 
 "Wat in de name o Moses is he stayin out dah 
 fo , doin de wuk w at b longs to to-morrow?" she 
 said to herself. " Ef he doan make no better use of 
 
338 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 his time dan dat, lie 11 git into nex week, an den 
 he woan know when he is ! " She left the window 
 and opened the door of the crooked staircase which 
 led to the room where little Diana slept. 
 
 The motion of the door stirred the cloth which 
 covered Venus. Peggy scowled at the shrouded 
 head and her lips moved with some mumbled im 
 precation. She went up the stairway a few steps, 
 stood a minute, listening to Diana s regular breath 
 ing, and then came down again. The boards creaked 
 frightfully. Venus was so close to the stairs that 
 even Peggy s motion, as she stepped from them into 
 the parlor, moved the drapery again . It was very 
 light and stirred with the faintest breath. Peggy 
 stood still a minute, with her back to it; from the 
 corner of her eye she had seen it move. There was 
 not a sound until some piece of furniture in the next 
 room cracked. 
 
 "Scip?" Peggy said softly, without moving. 
 "Dat yo , Scip? " Then she reflected that he could 
 not get into the house without her hearing him. 
 She associated the cracking of the furniture with 
 footsteps, and that made her think she heard more 
 of them. 
 
 "Dey ain t no mortal bein ken git inside o dat 
 room, ceps dey comes froo yer," she reflected. She 
 strained her ears for sounds, and there was a creak 
 from one place, a knock from another, and a scratch 
 from another. 
 
 " Benus got sump m to do wid it ! " Peggy thought, 
 and turned her head very carefully to see if that cloth 
 was moving again. She was afraid to move her 
 
HAVILAH. 339 
 
 body for fear of making the boards creak under her. 
 She had left the stair door open, and there was a 
 slight draught from it. Peggy s glare, as she turned 
 it slowly, met a flutter which the draught made in 
 Venus s covering. It was the last straw. Peggy s 
 endurance came to an end then and there. She 
 turned with a swing, went into the kitchen, unlocked 
 the door leading to the yard, opened it wide and 
 placed a bench against it to prevent it from closing. 
 Then she lighted her kitchen lamp. There was de 
 termination in her every step and motion. Peggy 
 was going to have a settling with Venus. The 
 boards might creak, and the furniture split itself 
 with cracking now, Peggy did not stop to listen or 
 waver. With her quick movements and the draughts 
 that were let in, the cloth over Venus fluttered wild 
 signals of alarm, and well it might, for Venus s hour 
 had come. Peggy went straight from the kitchen 
 lamp to the goddess, snatched off her covering, 
 grasped the bust by its pedestal, and carried it 
 through the kitchen out into the yard. Then, rais 
 ing it as high as its weight allowed, she dashed it 
 down upon the stone doorstep with all her force. 
 Without waiting to examine the pieces, she picked 
 up the head, held it high, and dashed it down again. 
 And so she did repeatedly until Venus had not a 
 feature left. When Peggy was assured of this, she 
 came into the house, locked the door again, blew out 
 her kitchen lamp, and returned to the parlor. She 
 sat down on her rocking-chair, facing the corner 
 where Venus had stood, and smiled intense satisfac 
 tion at the empty shelf. 
 
340 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 When Scipio unlocked the door of the shed which 
 was dignified by being called a barn, the mule greeted 
 him with sounds which were unmistakably those of 
 welcome. Scipio patted him and examined his stall 
 to see what was the matter. Everything was as 
 usual and the animal appeared in good condition. 
 Scipio s hand stopped on Willum s back, as he per 
 ceived that the little window opposite the stall was 
 open. It was one which was never used, and Scipio 
 had supposed that it was nailed up. Somebody had 
 opened it and the mule had recognized that the 
 person was an intruder. Scipio tightened his grasp 
 on his stick and went to the window to look about 
 and listen. He immediately suspected that some 
 body had made an attempt to steal Willum. He 
 set the lantern down on a barrel, closed the window, 
 and fastened it with a stick which he jammed be 
 tween the sash and a beam. He was reaching for his 
 lantern and stick, preparatory to making an exami 
 nation of the premises, when he heard his name 
 spoken in a hoarse whisper: "Uncle Scipio! " 
 
 "In de Lawd s name who s dat? " he asked. 
 
 "It s I Havilah oh, Uncle Scip ! " answered 
 the voice, in distress, repeating his name. In a mo 
 ment Scipio found Havilah half lying on some straw 
 in a corner of the shed. 
 
 "Hab lah! Pore chile, whah yo come from?" 
 Scipio exclaimed. She looked wild and haggard 
 and was shaking very much. She was leaning on 
 her hands, which seemed to keep the upper part of 
 her body from falling over. "Whah yo come 
 from?" Scipio repeated. 
 
HAVILAH. 341 
 
 "From misery from death!" she said. "Oh, 
 why didn t I end it? Why didn t I"- She 
 stopped, as if she did not know what she was saying. 
 "Oh hush, chile! " said Scipio. In distress to do 
 something, and not knowing what, he knelt down 
 before her and tried to pat and stroke her, as he 
 had his mule. "Doan try to tell whah yo s been, 
 chile," he coaxed, "nor w at brung yo yer. Yo s 
 all right now yo s come, an we 11 take keer on yo 
 an make yo git some res . Dah, chile, dah! No 
 matteh who s been arter yo , dey s druv yo to de 
 right pla " 
 
 "I saw him, Uncle Scip!" Havilah said, in a 
 frightened whisper. "He was in the street and I 
 did not dare to go back ! He did not see me, but 
 he was there. And she was with him ! They " 
 "Nebber min whah dey was, chile! " said Scipio. 
 "Doan try to tell Uncle Scip to-night! Yo s got 
 away frum em! Dey did n t foller yo 
 
 " Oh yes ! Yes ! " cried Havilah, suddenly excited. 
 "They had a hundred after me, all the way! They 
 chased me to the river! They" 
 
 "Dah! Dah! Now hush, chile, an doan let no- 
 buddy yer w at dey did! Hush! Hush, pore chile, 
 pore chile! " 
 
 Scipio drew her to him and she clung to him, as 
 if the hands of her pursuers were upon her trying 
 to drag her away. He held her, rubbing and pat 
 ting her still, until her grasp slackened. He thought 
 she was soothed and was beginning to urge her to 
 go with him into the house, when the sound of blows 
 reached them. 
 
342 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "There they are! They are coming!" Havi- 
 lah cried in fearful whispers. "They 11 take me 
 now ! Oh, Uncle Scip, save Di ! Save Di ! Save 
 Di!" 
 
 She clung to him desperately again, threw her 
 head back and looked at him in an agony of suppli 
 cation. Scipio could not quiet her until the sound 
 of the blows ceased. 
 
 "An dat jes shows how yo s outen yo hade, 
 pore chile! Yo s skeered at yerin Peggy chop de 
 wood ! " he said. "An she would n t tech it, ef she 
 knowed, no she would n t. She d be out yer, coax- 
 in an comfortin yo , an I wants yo to come now 
 to whah she is, Hab lah. Dah! So! Come long 
 keerfle dat s de way. Lean on ole Uncle Scip 
 an make yo se f hebby as yo ken. Now stan still 
 jes fer me to shet de do . Dat s it! Now! I s 
 blowed out de lantun an dey ain t nobuddy but ole 
 Aunt Peggy roun nowhahs! " 
 
 With this kind of talk he supported Havilah to 
 the house. 
 
 "Tsh! sh sh!" he said, silencing Peggy s ex 
 clamations, as they entered. "Pull down de shades 
 an doan make no spressions ob stonishment not 
 ef yo sees de hull chapter comin in de house to 
 wunst!" 
 
 Peggy understood in an instant. She helped her 
 husband place Havilah in the big rocking-chair, and, 
 as the poor woman, shivering, buried her face against 
 her, Peggy said cheerfully : "Dere, honey! Cry yo 
 eyes out fust, dat s allus de bes way to begin. 
 Light de fah, Scip, an put de kettle on to bile. She 
 
HAVILAH. 343 
 
 mus hev a drink o sump m hot, no matter w at s 
 gwine to happen." 
 
 Presently, when she had taken some tea, Havilah 
 revived a little. Her wild terror disappeared, and 
 she seemed to feel that she was in a place of safety. 
 
 " I am here, with you, Aunt Peggy in yore 
 home ain t I? " she asked for reassurance. 
 
 "To be sure yo is, honey! " said Peggy tenderly. 
 "An yo s as safe yer, wid Uncle Scip an me, as 
 if yo was dead an buried." 
 
 "Oh, if I only was! If I only was! " Havilah 
 moaned. "If it wasn t for Di, Aunt Peggy," she 
 said, with sudden hardness, "I d be in the river 
 now, I would ! " 
 
 "But it is for Di! " cried Peggy, catching at the 
 words. "It is for Di, honey! Yo s in a better 
 place, yer wid Scip an me. An right ober yo 
 hade, in de room upstahs, dere s yo own chile, little 
 Di, cuddled up in a nice, comf ble bed, sleepin soun 
 as a nut. An de do ob tie stahs is shet, so yo can 
 cry an take on all yo s a min to." 
 
 "I m not crying, Aunt Peggy," said Havilah, in 
 a hard tone. "It s the chill which makes my voice 
 tremble. I don t want to cry, I want" 
 
 "Ob co se! ob co se!" broke in Peggy. "An 
 dey ain t nuffin to cry fer, nudder, wid Di so 
 soun sleep dat she s straggled all ober de bade. 
 Yo 11 hab to lift her to one side, when yo gits on 
 to de oder one. Scip, bring a bit o brade fer me 
 to dip into dis tea. Yaas ! Di, she doan keer how 
 much o de bade she gits to sleepin on, an yo 
 monght as well speck to wake de dea de President 
 
344 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ob de United States down in de White House, as to 
 wake little Di, when yo goes upstahs bimeby to lay 
 down side ob her. Yaas, honey, jes take aiioder 
 tas , cose it 11 wawm yo up, an ef it doan tas 
 right, dat s on y count o Scip makin it. But yo 
 can t spect Uncle Scip to foller de cook-book. So 
 long as it s hot, dat s all yo wants now to stop dese 
 yer shakes, fore yo come upstahs wid Aunt Peggy 
 an gits into de bade wid little Di. Den yo 11 git 
 plenty wawm nough, wid Di tunnin ober to cuddle 
 into yo , like a little hot kittle o soup simmerin 
 on de back paht o de stove. An she 11 sleep, jes 
 like de seven, an nebber know till mawnin dat 
 she s so comf ble on y coze she s snuggled up gainst 
 her mammy! " 
 
 Peggy, talking in this way, by skillful art kept 
 the poor woman s mind returning to her child, until 
 at last she was quieted and allowed herself to be 
 helped into bed. 
 
 Scipio and Peggy did not go to bed again. They 
 were too thoroughly roused to sleep, and sat an hour 
 or more in their big armchairs, in the parlor, invent 
 ing first one and then another theory to account 
 for Havilah s appearance. They interrupted each 
 other occasionally, Peggy to creep up stairs and 
 look at the mother and child asleep, and Scipio to 
 walk around the outside of the house and shed, to 
 make sure that nobody was lurking about the prem 
 ises, on the watch for Havilah. 
 
 They had extinguished the lights and the sun 
 was rising when Scipio, coming in from giving the 
 mule his breakfast, came to a sudden halt, in the 
 
HAVILAH. 345 
 
 middle of the parlor. He stood quite still for a 
 few seconds, then rubbed his eyes, and stood still 
 again, with his hands in his pockets. He was look 
 ing into the corner where the bust of Venus had 
 been. 
 
 Finally he called, softly, so as not to disturb 
 Havilah: "Peggy!" 
 
 "Yer ! " answered Peggy, from the kitchen, where 
 she was preparing to make some coffee. 
 
 " Look-a-yer ! " said Scipio. 
 
 Peggy appeared at the door. Scipio pointed to 
 the empty shelf and asked in a stage-whisper: 
 
 Peggy examined the inside of the coffee-pot in 
 her hand. 
 
 " Whar is she? " asked Scipio again, with a comi 
 cally inquisitive look. 
 
 "Scip," said Peggy, rolling her eyes around at 
 him, "de Lawd gib his word in de Chapter, dat, ef 
 I hearken to Him, my enemies dey s got to be smit. 
 Yo unnerstan dat?" 
 
 "Hm m yaas," said Scipio, doubtfully, "but 
 I doan see ho\v a dade image got anything to do wid 
 dat." 
 
 "Dat s cose yo ain t hearkened to de Lawd 
 much as I hab, Scip," said Peggy. "I listened an 
 listened, till I yeard nough, an las night, w ile 
 yo was outen de balm, seemed to me jes like as ef 
 de time come for Semis to be smit, an 9 T smit 
 her!" 
 
 Scipio shook with a low laugh which seemed to 
 start from his boots and work its way up. He 
 
346 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 allowed it to rumble away again, and then asked 
 mildly: "Does yo feel better, Peggy?" 
 
 Peggy answered with spirit, "Yaas, I does!" 
 "Doan yo t ink yo 11 miss Benus? " Scipio asked 
 mischievously. 
 
 "No, I don t ! " Peggy answered with more spirit, 
 and stepping nearer to Scipio, she put her arms 
 akimbo, the coffee-pot still in one hand, and ex 
 plained: "I m done habin her stan in dah, like 
 she jes riz outen de grabe, lookin , wid cle w ites ob 
 her eyes, at eberyt ing gwine on! Puttin de bed- 
 quilt ober her an tunnin my back didn make no 
 difference dah she was ! But she s done Ofone 
 
 o 
 
 now whar she can t trouble me no mo , an dey ain t 
 no use ob quirin fo her. Ef yo wants any ob 
 de carcase, go look outen de yard, roun de kitchen 
 do ." 
 
 "Well, Peggy," said Scipio gently, screwing up 
 one eye and looking slyly at her, " scuse me ef I 
 axes yo one mo question w at yo gwine to say 
 to Miss Desbrum, w en she quires for de lady? " 
 
 Peggy s mouth drew down and she looked daggers 
 for an instant. Then she said with sarcasm, " Hm ! 
 Reckon I kin fin a plenty to talk bout thout lug- 
 gin in Benus I" 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 TRACING FOOTSTEPS. 
 
 ON the way to the Tombs Horace questioned Ra 
 chel about Havilah s history. What she told him 
 increased his interest very greatly. As one fact 
 after another came to his knowledge, he became 
 anxious to learn every detail and was disappointed 
 because she did not know certain ones accurately. 
 She was surprised to see him betray an eagerness 
 which amounted to excitement. From the depress 
 ing conviction that he had seen Havilah throw her 
 self into the water, he seized upon the hope that 
 Rachel was right in thinking that she was alive. 
 
 "No matter where, or who has her, Miss Stan- 
 wood, I will save her and her child, if it is in human 
 power to do it," he said excitedly. "I will think 
 of nothing but them, and I will not rest until I can 
 show them to you, safe, and out of that man s reach. 
 If ever I was good for anything, I 11 be good for 
 this!" 
 
 Rachel admired him for his enthusiasm, but could 
 not account for it. She asked if what she had told 
 him had given him any fresh points or clue to work 
 upon, but he did not answer directly. 
 
 "Don t ask anything now," he said. "Only help 
 me get the facts I want. If we only find Havilah 
 
348 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 at the prison, I can learn them for myself. How 
 much farther is it?" 
 
 "About three blocks," she said, panting, "but 
 do you know how fast you re walking me? " 
 
 He slackened his steps and apologized, laughing. 
 She made him laugh more, saying cheerfully: "No 
 matter ! I don t want more than just enough breath 
 to get along with. I 11 suffer up to the limit, for 
 the good of the cause. I was brought up to suffer 
 for Causes, you know; so, go on! " 
 
 At the Tombs Horace was impatient at the delib 
 eration of the matron, who wanted to stop Rachel 
 and make friendly inquiries for the health and 
 happiness of her family, and at the keeper s slow 
 ness in conducting them along the corridors, and 
 his desire to point out and describe to them the in 
 teresting cases. It was necessary to be guarded and 
 not betray the object of their visit, so Horace put 
 on an appearance of listening. Rachel visited the 
 special inmates to whom she had brought the book 
 and work, joining Horace and the keeper when her 
 mission was accomplished. Horace watched her, 
 when an opportunity offered, and thought of what 
 he had said to her about contamination. He saw 
 the prisoners look at her, sometimes with curiosity, 
 generally with admiration. Her fresh color and 
 girlish beauty made her a welcome sight, and her 
 business-like way of performing her errands pleased 
 them. 
 
 Those who looked at her saw that she had come 
 with a definite purpose of helping some among them, 
 and not from idle curiosity. 
 
TRACING FOOTSTEPS. 349 
 
 Here and there a few scowled after her, with ex 
 pressions of resentment upon their faces. Perhaps 
 their thoughts rebelled against the accident of birth 
 which placed them amid degradation, and her where 
 she was shielded from it; and they might very well 
 have wondered how things would have been with 
 them, or their young sisters or daughters, had their 
 chances been even with hers. Some were indiffer 
 ent, and allowed her to pass by them without any 
 thoughts at all. To some she brought messages 
 from her mother, and they were always received 
 gratefully. Horace caught very little of what was 
 said by either herself or the prisoners, but he thought 
 that her passage along the corridors was like a fresh 
 breeze from outside which must leave behind it a 
 better atmosphere for at least a little while. At any 
 other time he would have been stirred by different 
 emotions, particularly by his aversion to having her 
 there at all, but his one desire now was to find Hav- 
 ilah, and he set aside other feelings. As soon as 
 they were satisfied that she was not in the prison, 
 Rachel and Horace made an excuse to leave it. 
 
 Rachel announced her intention of going to Scipio s 
 on the chance of finding Havilah there, and, in any 
 case, to bring Diana away. Horace proposed to 
 visit the other jails and places in the city where 
 there was any probability of finding Havilah. But 
 first they returned to the Anti-Slavery Standard 
 office, that f they might act under advice and avoid 
 wasting either time or energy. 
 
 At the office Horace repeated the questions about 
 which he was so urgent, but was unsuccessful in 
 
350 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 obtaining satisfactory answers. He made notes of 
 the questions upon a slip of paper which he gave to 
 Eachel to take with her to Gowanus, and made it 
 a matter of vital importance that she should write 
 down with precision such answers as she might ob 
 tain, and not trust simply to her memory. She 
 thought he was unnecessarily careful in his direc 
 tions, but it was very delightful to have a commis 
 sion from him, and she received his instructions as 
 seriously as he gave them. She asked when he 
 would tell her why the questions were so important. 
 He smiled and said it depended entirely upon how 
 the answers suited him. 
 
 While it was common for fugitive slaves to meet 
 with kindness from the lower classes of white people 
 in the North, they often encountered the reverse. 
 In the families of abolitionists the attitude of white 
 servants toward them was sometimes more than un 
 friendly, it was antagonistic and even dangerous. 
 The abolitionists were intolerant of " prejudice 
 against color," as they called it, and if it existed 
 among their white servants, it was generally con 
 cealed, excepting in the presence of its victims, where 
 it was displayed w T ith all the more bitterness because 
 of its repression at other times. At the Stanw r oods , 
 the other servants were nearly always recognized sin 
 ners who were supposed to be making an effort to 
 reform. Some reformed and some did not. Those 
 who did, and even those whose efforts were sincere, 
 but who were less successful in accomplishing the 
 desired result, generally regarded fugitives as less 
 fortunate than themselves and were pitiful. But 
 
TRACING FOOTSTEPS. 351 
 
 the others, who made both sin and repentance a 
 profession, regarded the negroes as an inferior, 
 degraded class, and rejoiced in an opportunity of 
 showing and maintaining their own superiority by 
 small persecutions and petty tyranny. 
 
 Fugitives were humble and patient, as a class, 
 and, in their abounding gratitude to those who har 
 bored them, would submit uncomplainingly to much 
 injustice. It was a lighter order of injustice than 
 slavery had imposed upon them, but it was of a novel 
 kind and therefore hard to bear. We often bear 
 with heroism a heavy burden to which we are accus 
 tomed, but rebel against a trifling one which makes 
 the heart ache, ever so little, in a new place. To 
 be treated as if their color were contaminating was 
 an experience which many of the negroes had to 
 come north to meet with. 
 
 To Havilah the lesson came particularly hard. 
 She was proud and sensitive, and the last year s ex 
 periences, had embittered her. Until Mr. Suydan 
 purchased her, she had lived in Virginia, having 
 been, since childhood, a part of a fine estate there. 
 Its proprietor was the only master whom Havilah 
 remembered. Both he and his wife were kind, to 
 indulgence, to their slaves, and Havilah had been an 
 especial favorite with them. She had been married 
 in their parlor to Frederick Moore, another part 
 of the estate, and they had lived happily in the 
 lodge, at the entrance to the grounds, until until 
 their master failed and the estate had to be sold ! 
 The slaves were bought mostly by speculators, one 
 of whom took Havilah and her child to Delaware 
 
352 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 and sold them there to Mr. Suydan. Frederick 
 became the property of a Mississippi planter. Hav- 
 ilah realized then what slavery meant. Mr. Suy 
 dan was a hard master, and Havilah had to suffer 
 and to see others suffer under a kind of tyranny 
 which was new to her. She could have endured 
 much more if it had not been for her child, but she 
 lived in terror lest her little Diana should be treated 
 with cruelty or, worse still, torn from her. After 
 about six months she resolved to escape with the 
 child, and devoted all her skill to discovering a way. 
 Harriet Wilson, whom we have learned to call Del- 
 phina, had been an especial victim of Mr. Suy dan s 
 harsh treatment, and she united her skill with Havi 
 lah s until at last the three had escaped together. 
 
 But the taste of liberty was not so sweet to Havi 
 lah as it was to Delphina. There was mingled with 
 it the consciousness that her husband could not 
 share it and that, for him, there was no such alle 
 viation as she had in the companionship of their 
 child. He could not even have the comfort of 
 knowing that they had escaped. The farther north 
 they came, the farther Havilah felt they were from 
 the possibility of getting tidings of him. It was 
 this thought which made her anxious to postpone 
 going to Canada. Through the past summer months 
 she and Diana had been living with some friends 
 of the Stan woods at their farm on the Hudson 
 River, near Newburgh. Diana had greatly im 
 proved in health, and, in the restful quiet of the 
 season, Havilah had recovered something of her old 
 condition of peace. She never forgot that her hus- 
 
TRACING FOOTSTEPS. 353 
 
 band was still a slave, and the possibilities of 
 what he might be suffering made, in the stream of 
 her life, a continuous undercurrent of pain. Her 
 friends kept up her spirits with the hope of discov 
 ering where he was and the prospect there might be 
 of buying him, as Scipio had been bought. To this 
 end Havilah saved her earnings, and the incentive 
 to work cheered her more than anything else did. 
 
 But autumn had come and with it no news of 
 Frederick. She felt that now was the time for her 
 master to renew his search for Diana and herself. 
 With the possibility of his doing so, Diana was 
 again sent to Scipio and Peggy. 
 
 It was natural for negroes to herd together. In 
 stead of fearing that a colony of them would be 
 regarded by slave-hunters with suspicion and would, 
 therefore, be a dangerous hiding - place for fugi 
 tives, the feeling was strong among colored people 
 that it was their safest refuge. There, whatever 
 happened, they would stand by one another. Ex 
 cepting abolitionists, they were often suspicious of 
 everybody else. Their strongest faith was in their 
 own people. 
 
 Eachel Stanwood and Horace Desborough were 
 not the only people who had seen Mr. Suydan and 
 Tibbie MacClare together. Havilah had seen them 
 first. On the evening before, just after she had 
 stepped down into Friend Holly s area, with the note 
 which she was taking to Mrs. Holly, Mr. Suydan 
 and Tibbie passed by under the street-lamp in front 
 of the house, and Havilah recognized them. She 
 
354 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 was afraid to go out iii the street again, after giv 
 ing the note to the servant. So she made a pretext 
 of wanting to look for something in her purse by 
 the light in the front basement. As soon as Jane, 
 Mrs. Holly s girl, went upstairs with the note, 
 Havilah purposely opened and closed the front door 
 noisily, to make it appear that she had gone out, 
 hurried through the entry into the yard, and hid 
 herself under the vines in the corner. She knew 
 the Holly s girl and was afraid of her. Jane was 
 aware of the negro blood in her veins, and treated 
 her accordingly. Havilah wondered, in case Mr. 
 Suydan rang the door-bell, what Jane would tell 
 him. She strained her ears listening for the ring. 
 It did not come, but it was as well that she did not 
 return to the street, for Tibbie was pointing out, on 
 their evening walk, places of special interest to Mr. 
 Suydan, and, after passing a little farther along, 
 returned with him to show him exactly which one of 
 the houses belonged to Mr. Holly. It was unneces 
 sary trouble, for the city directory furnished the in 
 formation. 
 
 Although Havilah had only seen Mr. Suydan and 
 Miss MacClare in the instant when they had passed 
 under the gaslight, she perceived more than Rachel 
 and Horace did the next morning, even with the full 
 light of day and in treble the time. The antagonism 
 which had existed between Tibbie and herself caused 
 her mind to leap at once to the conclusion that the 
 girl had betrayed her. She also saw in her mind 
 something far worse than Tibbie as a traitor she 
 saw Tibbie as a mistress ! Her mistress ! Diana s 
 
TRACING FOOTSTEPS. 355 
 
 mistress ! For, if Tibbie were not already Mr. Suy- 
 clan s wife, she was assuredly going to be. She had 
 hung upon his arm and looked up at him as only 
 wives or lovers look. Diana s mistress f Again 
 Havilah could see Tibbie when she struck Diana that 
 day long ago, at the Stanwoods . Havilah had 
 seized her arm then, made her cower, and told her 
 she "would never do that again." Now? Hav 
 ilah s mind saw Tibbie strike little Di again and 
 again and glory in the act, while it was she Hav 
 ilah who cowered down before her and had no 
 power to defend her child ! It should not be ! 
 
 Havilah, crouching in the corner under the vines, 
 thought with the keenest power given to a woman s 
 brain the power of a mother who sees her child 
 in danger. She put aside her passion, her terror, 
 every personal feeling, and concentrated her intelli 
 gence upon devising a plan by which she could save 
 Diana. 
 
 The person at the piano in one of the houses 
 banged at "The Maiden s Prayer," voices talked 
 overhead, Jane fastened the kitchen door and win 
 dows for the night, Ole Bull played, stopped, and 
 played again ; but Havilah sat on the ground mo 
 tionless, her knees drawn up and her arms crossed 
 over them, with her eyes straining into the darkness, 
 and heard no sound. Long before the violin was 
 silent she knew what she was going to do. 
 
 She had no thought of asking help of the friends 
 who were within her reach. They would urge her 
 to wait until morning. More than that, they might 
 prevent her from carrying out her purpose. They 
 
356 EACIIEL STANWOOD. 
 
 might save her, while her master and Tibbie were 
 carrying off Diana. That was the thing which 
 should not be; Havilah would get to Diana first. 
 And she knew just how she was going to do it. 
 Piece by piece, she got down the clotheslines, and 
 then she knotted them, carefully and firmly, into 
 loops which would serve as steps in climbing the gates. 
 She knew all about those gates ; to get over them 
 she would need two ladders. Mentally she reviewed 
 the way by which she meant to go, from the outer 
 gate on Second Avenue to Scipio s house in Gow- 
 arius. No bit of memory, no quality of her mind, 
 failed her. More than Diana s life was at stake, 
 and it would not do to blunder; every particle of 
 her intelligence was at her command. If she should 
 be pursued, she might have to deviate from a direct 
 course, but she would not lose her head. Before 
 she climbed to the top of the wall, she pointed her 
 mind toward Scipio s shanty across the river, and, 
 whatever happened, she would keep it there with 
 the steadiness of a compass. 
 
 The two men whom William Hedges and Horace 
 Desborough had overheard talking as they went by 
 the cemetery gate were in the employment of Mr. 
 Suydan, whose suspicions had centred upon Friend 
 Holly s as the place where Havilah was secreted. 
 
 Tibbie had made the discovery that the child was 
 at Scipio s, and she had tried to persuade Mr. Suy 
 dan to watch the little shanty, with the chance that 
 Havilah would visit it. But Suydan was afraid of 
 missing his prey by waiting for such a possibility, 
 and considered it safest to keep his eyes upon the 
 
TRACING FOOTSTEPS. 357 
 
 houses of Friend Holly and Mr. Stanwood. He 
 thought it the part of wisdom, however, to leave 
 Diana undisturbed until he should learn where 
 Havilah was, as taking the child would cause Hav- 
 ilah s protectors to guard her with more security. 
 
 It was Havilah whom the officer, Horace, and Will 
 had seen at the beginning of their chase. Will did 
 not reason as to why he thought that the person es 
 caping was a fugitive slave, beyond the fact that she 
 had started from Friend Holly s. The old Quaker 
 gentleman had helped away so many slaves that it 
 was safe to assume that this was another. But the 
 thought of Havilah did not enter Will s mind until, 
 stopping early in the chase to look back, he saw 
 the fugitive, behind the pursuers, dart across a patch 
 of moonlight and run in an opposite direction from 
 them. He saw then that the person whom they 
 were chasing was a woman, and the thought that pos 
 sibly it might be Havilah came into his mind. 
 
 When she reached the end of the pier, Havilah, 
 looking down at the water, had seen a place where 
 the shadow jutted out blacker than anywhere else, 
 and had made a desperate leap for it. It proved to 
 be the end of an old scow which was moored under 
 the wharf. It dipped as her weight touched it, or 
 she would certainly have been seriously injured. 
 As it was, the intensity of her purpose made her 
 unconscious that she was badly bruised. She was 
 too desperate to be sensible of pain. She crawled 
 from the scow to a beam and from there saw Will 
 when he climbed down to the lower tier of logs. 
 The plashing of the tide and bumping of some loose 
 
358 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 logs against the pier prevented her from hearing 
 what the young men said to each other. She waited 
 until they went away and then managed, by climb 
 ing and crawling, to work herself to a place from 
 which she could again get up to the surface of the 
 dock. From there she had gone cautiously, limp 
 ing her way along, sometimes hiding for a while, 
 keeping as near the shore as possible, until she 
 reached a ferry. There she waited and watched 
 until some other passengers came to take the boat. 
 She followed in the line with them, and paid her 
 fare without observation. On the Brooklyn side of 
 the river she asked boldly, of one of the loungers 
 about the ferry, the way to Gowaiius. She knew 
 Scipio s cottage well, and had had it in mind so 
 often as a possible refuge that she knew its location, 
 and was not obliged to make any further inquiries. 
 When she reached it, she searched for some nook 
 where she could hide until morning, and climbed 
 through the window of the mule s shed. " Willum" 
 proved to be the only competent detective whom she 
 encountered in her flight, and summoned his master 
 to take care of her. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ANSWEKS TO CERTAIN QUESTIONS. 
 
 "On, Miss Rachel, yo don t know what yo re 
 asking! I ve come to the end of my journey now 
 and I can t go any farther; ef he chooses to come 
 yer fo me, let him come! He ll find me, ef he 
 comes. Ha! ha! ha! he 11 find both of us, and 
 we 11 be ready fo him! " 
 
 Havilah s laugh grated harshly upon Rachel s 
 ear; it would have been less painful to hear her 
 sob. 
 
 They were in the parlor of Scipio s shanty, where 
 Peggy had left them while she prepared something 
 for Rachel to eat before going away. The latch of 
 the kitchen door rattled with the fumbling of a small 
 pair of hands on the other side of it. The door was 
 pushed open, and, heralded by a large yellow cat and 
 the savory odor of something cooking, Diana came 
 into the parlor. The cat ran to rub his sides against 
 Havilah s chair, purring loudly and evidently ex 
 pecting a treat from Diana, who was carrying two 
 very small pies on a tin plate. As the cat intimated 
 his expectations by suggestive mews and rearing 
 efforts to smell the pies, Diana held the plate above 
 the reach of his nose and said in her sweetest tones : 
 "No, Santy Ann, zey ain t fo yo t all; yo 11 have 
 
360 EACI1EL STAN WOOD. 
 
 to wait till bimeby. I made zese pies all fo Miss 
 Waychel an my mamma." 
 
 Setting the plate upon a table beside her mother, 
 she looked at it with her head on one side, lost in 
 admiration. Peggy had twisted Diana s hair into a 
 womanly knot on the crown of her head, turned up 
 the skirt of her dress and pinned it behind, making 
 her look like a diminutive charwoman. The child s 
 eyes sparkled with the fun of playing "cook," and 
 her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the stove. 
 She offered a pie first to Rachel, and was pleased 
 with her thanks, which were adapted to the occasion. 
 She carried her other pie to her mother, with a 
 coaxing manner, showing a doubt as to its being so 
 acceptable. 
 
 "Tas e it, mamma, tas e it!" she said, pinching 
 off a bit and putting it to her mother s lips. " Aim 
 Peggy says de pies zat little gells makes is de bes 
 pies fo muzzers." 
 
 Havilah put her arm around the child and bent 
 over her a moment. 
 
 "That ll do; it is very good, but mamma can t 
 eat any more now, darling," she said tenderly. 
 "Leave it yer on the table fo me, won t yo ? " 
 
 "I 11 set ze table, an mamma can have a party! " 
 Diana exclaimed joyfully. For a few minutes she 
 danced about, between the kitchen and where her 
 mother was sitting, bringing such odds and ends of 
 little dishes and ornaments as she could find to suit 
 her fanciful idea of a party, and made an array of 
 them upon the table. 
 
 When she retreated to the kitchen to concoct a 
 
ANSWERS TO CERTAIN QUESTIONS. 361 
 
 pudding for "the party," and closed the door, Ra 
 chel seized the opportunity, while Havilah was under 
 the softening influence of Diana s pretty attentions, 
 and said, in a tone of entreaty : " Come now, Hav 
 ilah! Come, before anything happens to change 
 poor little Di s happiness in to trouble! Come for 
 her sake! " 
 
 But the hardness came into Havilah s face again 
 and she set her hands upon the arms of her chair 
 with a determined gesture while she said: "It s for 
 her sake I m going to stay yer, Miss Rachel. Yo 
 are very good, and Mr. Desborough is very good to 
 take so much trouble fo Di an me. When yo give 
 him the answers to those questions, tell him I thank 
 him for caring so much, but I d rather he d give 
 it all up. He is only going to waste his time and 
 strength and may be bring trouble on himself. 
 Tell " She stopped as if she suddenly decided 
 not to say something else. Rachel took up her 
 words and pleaded : - 
 
 "But he can bear the trouble, Havilah, better than 
 Uncle Scipio and Aunt Peggy can, and he has more 
 strength than they have. I don t know of what use 
 these answers are, but I know that he will be dread 
 fully disappointed if I don t take you and Diana 
 back. If he had thought it at all likely that I 
 would find you here, he d have come too. He is 
 doing nothing now, Havilah, but look for you. 
 They are all looking for you, and, if you go back 
 with me, it will save trouble for them and may be 
 for Uncle Scipio and Aunt Peggy too ! " 
 
 But Havilah would not yield. With a look which 
 
362 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 was at once sad and gentle, but also firm as a rock, 
 she said, 
 
 "Uncle Scip and Aunt Peggy are my people, 
 and Di s people, Miss Rachel. We are the same 
 race; we know how to suffer for one another, and 
 we can do it better than you can. That is what 
 we are made for. I don t want to bring trouble on 
 Uncle Scip and Aunt Peggy, but, if I can t help it, 
 they won t grudge me a little." 
 
 "And we would not either, Havilah," Rachel said 
 earnestly. " We would all take a great deal to help 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, I know that! I know that! Yo have done 
 it and " Havilah exclaimed and stopped again. 
 There was something in her mind which she did not 
 mean to say to Rachel. She clasped her fingers 
 tightly around the arms of her chair and set her lips 
 together. She did not look at Rachel any more; 
 when she spoke, her eyes looked coldly, straight 
 before her, but they looked without seeing. 
 
 "Yo and yore folks have done more than yore 
 share, more than yo ought, and the time has come 
 for that to end too," Havilah said in a low tone. 
 
 Rachel was distressed. She felt that Havilah 
 ought to go away with her, and that, if the right 
 things were said, she would be persuaded. But 
 Rachel could not think of the right things. She 
 felt like crying because she could not move Hav 
 ilah. Havilah s last point about her family hav 
 ing done too much in her behalf, pained her, and 
 she pleaded against it. But to no purpose. Had 
 Rachel been older, she would have been alarmed 
 
ANSWERS TO CERTAIN QUESTIONS. 363 
 
 at the stony expression of Havilah s face and the 
 awful quietness of her manner when she said at 
 last : - 
 
 "It isn t of any use, Miss Rachel, fo yo to try 
 to get me to go away from yer. I am going to stay 
 yer. Yo don t know what I have got to do if" 
 And there she came against that thing in her mind 
 which could not be spoken. Rachel did not under 
 stand anything except Havilah s unwillingness to be 
 any longer a burden and anxiety to those who had 
 protected her hitherto. 
 
 Peggy, busy with her cooking, and troubled be 
 cause Rachel could eat so little of what she pre 
 pared, did not observe Havilah s manner. To her 
 it seemed only the result of strain and exhaustion. 
 She did not share any apprehensions as to the safety 
 of Havilah and Diana in the shanty. She was bet 
 ter pleased to have them remain, and Rachel could 
 not make her feel any indications that they would 
 be molested. 
 
 "De Africans ain t nebber b en sturbed yer," 
 she said, and explained carefully to Rachel how all 
 the persecutions which those of the colony had 
 suffered had been confined to attacks in the street, 
 on their way to and from labor. "An all dem has 
 been furder away, down in de city, mongst de pop- 
 palation," she argued contemptuously. "Yo doan 
 speck de kin o folks w at hits at a man in de dahk 
 an dat s jes de kin Hab lah s massa b longs to 
 yo doan speck dem to come whar dey 11 fin 
 nough Africans togedder to defen emselves, does 
 yo , Miss Rachel? H m!" 
 
364 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Rachel reached home late in the afternoon and 
 had scarcely taken off her things when Horace Des- 
 borough appeared. He was amazed and excited to 
 learn that she had found Havilah. She began re 
 gretting her inability to bring the mother and child 
 back with her, but Horace scarcely listened, and 
 interrupted her to ask if she had obtained the answers 
 to those questions he had written. She gave him 
 the slip of paper with questions and answers upon 
 it and watched him while he glanced hastily over 
 them. He was so excited that the paper shook in 
 his hands. 
 
 "The answers do suit, then! " she said, as she saw 
 his face light up. 
 
 "I think so I believe so! " he exclaimed joy 
 fully. "But I must not stop good-by ! " 
 
 He was in a hurry to go, and she did not try to 
 detain him. "Then I will wait to understand," she 
 said, and held out her hand for his good-by. He 
 saw his joy reflected in her face, and, seizing her 
 hand, bent suddenly over it and kissed it. 
 
 "Forgive me! " he said, but added immediately: 
 "No don t ! Wait a minute ! " 
 
 He let go of her hand, stood before her erect, and 
 with a touch of the old haughtiness of their first 
 acquaintance, said: "Miss Stan wood, one of the 
 first things you knew about me was of the part I 
 had taken in I called it then restoring a man s 
 property to him; I call it now depriving another 
 man of his liberty. I cannot undo that act. But I 
 have made a compact with myself that I will be the 
 means, if it is in my power, of helping to give what 
 
ANSWERS TO CERTAIN QUESTIONS. 365 
 
 I was once the means of helping to take away. If 
 I can prevent Havilah s master from taking her and 
 her child back into slavery I shall feel a little as if 
 I had atoned for my first act, and and a better 
 right to ask you never to forgive what I could not 
 help just now. Good-by ! 
 
 He held out his hand, and she put hers into it, 
 unable to speak. He did the most difficult thing- 
 he had ever done in his life he gave her hand 
 only a little pressure and left her. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MISS GRAYTHORN EXPLAINS THOROUGH-BASS TO 
 GRACE DESBOROUGH. 
 
 FOR a time the promise which Grace Desborough 
 had made to her lover, "to live her best and be as 
 happy as she could," bolstered up her courage. She 
 went about with her father and mother, sight-seeing 
 and to hear music, and they were delighted with her 
 and with their own wisdom in getting up this plan 
 of foreign travel which was going to straighten 
 everything out so beautifully. In August they were 
 joined, at Neuchatel, by the River ston family and 
 Miss Graythorn, who was traveling under their pro 
 tection. 
 
 Miss Adele Graythorn was, to those who were in 
 search of amusement, an attractive little person, 
 with dull chestnut hair, dark eyes, pale complexion 
 and a laughing mouth. She was nineteen, gay, 
 witty, and careless. She insisted upon having a 
 happy atmosphere about her, even if she had it all 
 to make herself, and her wit, which was as good- 
 natured as it was sharp, helped effectively to pro 
 duce it. She made fun of everything and every 
 body, in a thoughtless, easy way, and tossed aside 
 vexations and annoyances as carelessly as she threw 
 away her letters. Things lighted upon her as but- 
 
MISS GRAYTHOEN EXPLAINS. 367 
 
 terflies light upon flowers ; and, when she brushed 
 them off, they left no traces. Her coquetry, of 
 which she had plenty, had a sparkle to it which made 
 it vastly amusing. But it was shallow and rarely 
 injured anybody. Mr. and Mrs. Desborough were 
 delighted to give her a welcome, and felt that her 
 company was certain to assuage all Grace s pangs 
 of homesickness and unwholesome longings. The 
 company of Burton Riverstoii was to supplement the 
 beneficent influences of travel and Miss Graythorn. 
 Nothing could have been more fortunately arranged, 
 and if the end of it all should be an attraction be 
 tween Grace and Burton, so much the better. 
 
 The Desborough parents made no effort to bring 
 about such a result and did not at all set their hearts 
 upon it. It might, or it might not happen, that was 
 all. They observed that Burton enjoyed getting 
 Grace by herself, when foreign ideas of propriety 
 made it easy, and that their conversation seemed to 
 be interesting to both, in a natural, wholesome way. 
 It was just as well that they did not get their 
 hopes of a serious result worked up, for there was 
 another point of view from which to consider Grace s 
 and Burton s interest in those talks, and there was 
 also another young lady in the party who was to be 
 taken into the account. 
 
 When Burton Riverston appeared upon the scene 
 it was not his personality, but the American atmos 
 phere which he brought along with him, which did 
 Grace good. He told her much about the firm of 
 
 O 
 
 Hedges & Desborough, their cosy office, especially 
 the inner room, called private, and ostensibly used 
 
368 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 for consultations and confidences with clients. Bur 
 ton was often in it and helped to keep up appear 
 ances for the firm by passing himself off as a client 
 before occasional visitors. He made Grace s old 
 merry laugh ring out with his stories, and it was 
 music to the ears of her father and mother. Then 
 Miss Desborough was Miss Stanwood s friend, and 
 that fact supplied them with another theme which 
 seemed inexhaustible. They exchanged no con 
 fidences, and talked only on the surface of their 
 subjects, but what they had to say interested no 
 body but themselves, and they enjoyed each other s 
 sympathy. Burton s helped Grace to wait more pa 
 tiently for Will; Grace s helped Burton to learn to 
 do without something he had tried for and failed to 
 win. Before he left America, Rachel Stan wood had 
 refused him. 
 
 But Miss Graythorn was not the girl to help 
 Grace and Burton to win each other. Burton was 
 the only available young man in her vicinity, and 
 she wanted him for her own use. He was rather 
 dull, had grown serious, and, so far as all entertain 
 ing qualities went, could not hold a candle to young 
 Desborough, Grace s brother. But Horace was out 
 of favor with Miss Graythorn at present. He had 
 been bewitched by that pretty Quaker girl, turned 
 fanatic, thrown away his prospects, and was sending 
 himself after them as fast as he could. Here, in a 
 foreign land, with his courteous manners and good- 
 natured unselfishness, Burton Eiverston showed to 
 advantage; Miss Graythorn enjoyed his society and 
 did her prettiest to make him enjoy hers. The 
 
MISS GEAYTHOEN EXPLAINS. 369 
 
 Rotherwells and Percival Grays, from New York, 
 appeared at the principal hotel, and he was immensely 
 useful doing duty as escort. Miss Graythorn went 
 everywhere with them, and Burton attended her 
 faithfully. As she and Grace liked his society for 
 such different reasons, their interests did not clash, 
 and they got along very well together. Poor Miss 
 Clementina Riverston would have been rather left 
 out in the cold, if it had not been for Grace, who 
 kept her company at home. Mrs. Riverston and 
 Mrs. Desborough adopted with enthusiasm the for 
 eign ideas of propriety and bore down upon the girls 
 (they included Miss Clementina as one also) with 
 an amount of matronizing which was oppressive. 
 The chaperon business was carried on briskly, and 
 to the two elder ladies was a most interesting study. 
 When Mrs. Riverston addressed her daughter and 
 Miss Graythorn as "you girls," in the presence of 
 Burton, however, the effect of the study was some 
 what marred. Burton laughed. It was a little 
 cruel to his sister to do it, but he was taken by sur 
 prise, and his mother used the expression in giving 
 some advice so unsuitable for a young woman of 
 Clementina s mature years that it was irresistibly 
 funny. "It was awfully mean of him," Miss Gray- 
 thorn said to Grace afterwards, "when we were both 
 trying so hard to look like contemporaries ! " 
 
 It is very easy to be a heroine for a while, and 
 Grace performed the part very well through the 
 summer. But after Burton Riverston left the party 
 to join a comrade who was going to Zermatt to see 
 the Matterhorn, and there was nobody to talk with 
 
370 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 about the firm of Hedges & Desborougli, it began 
 to be hard to keep up her cheerfulness. Eloise was 
 sent to a boarding-school in Lausanne about the 
 middle of September, and Grace missed her. Since 
 that time when Eloise had interfered with the waiter 
 and carried Will s violets upstairs, Grace had felt 
 a little bond of sympathy between her sister and 
 herself which she had never known before. The 
 poor girl was deprived of the one thing which she 
 wanted, and it was useless to try and make anything 
 else answer in its place. 
 
 Grace read her fan diligently. It helped her to 
 "live her best," but it was a poor kind of best. 
 She heard regularly from Horace, but, by tacit con 
 sent, he and she avoided writing about Will and 
 herself. He was afraid of adding to her loneli 
 ness and his letters gave only what was of general 
 interest. Occasional phrases about the firm in 
 formed her that Will was in good health, that was 
 all. Such sentences as: "The firm is well and able- 
 bodied ready for clients," and "If not on the top 
 wave of prosperity, the firm yet holds its own," 
 gave her the only tidings of Will which she received 
 from her brother. After the Rotherwells and Perci- 
 val Grays had gone, Miss Graythorn, deprived also 
 of a young man to play with, had to exert herself to 
 create that cheerfulness upon which she was depen 
 dent. Grace s low spirits bored her, and it was 
 hard to do any thing with Miss Riverston. Miss 
 Clementina was very mature for her years ; with 
 every desire to hold on to her youth, she had not the 
 least knowledge how to do it. It was certainly 
 
MISS GRAYTHORN EXPLAINS. 371 
 
 hard upon Miss Graythorn and she derived much 
 credit for her efforts to improve the atmosphere. 
 "Clemmy is a hard case," she said to Grace. "If 
 she would accept herself just as she is, she d do well 
 enough. Thirty is not bad. When I m thirty, I m 
 going to blossom into womanhood with charming 
 effect. If Clemmy would take herself at thirty, and 
 not try to be an anachronism, she d be all right." 
 
 Her light-hearted talk made Grace laugh, and 
 supplied the party generally with considerable cheer 
 fulness, so that they managed to reach September 
 almost comfortably. But by that time Miss Gray- 
 thorn desired a change. She could easily have per 
 suaded the Riverstons to travel, but she did not care 
 to be separated from Grace, who, dull as she was, 
 was better than "Clemmy." The result was that 
 they all went to Paris, where they set to work vigor 
 ously to enjoy all the gayety possible. 
 
 " Whoever he is, being miserable is n t going to 
 prove your loyalty to him!" said Miss Graythorn, 
 in Grace s room at Hotel. 
 
 She had determined to give Grace a good shaking 
 up, and this was her way of beginning it. Grace 
 stood upright and looked aghast at Miss Graythorn. 
 Miss Graythorn sat at the opposite side of the 
 centre-table, leaning her elbows upon it and looking 
 with mischievous eyes over her clasped fingers at 
 Grace. She had been sitting so for some minutes 
 while Grace was trying to write to Horace. 
 
 "You needn t look as if earthquakes were com 
 ing," Miss Graythorn said, not moving except to lift 
 her chin and rest it on her fingers. "That is all I 
 
372 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 know, and I m not going to know any more, unless 
 I m driven to, and I m not going to tell anybody 
 else that I know even so much. Sit down a^ain, 
 
 O 
 
 beloved, and pale off. I ve got something to say." 
 
 Grace was as red as a peony. She sat down and 
 said in a vexed tone: "I don t think you had better 
 say it, Adele; I d rather talk about something else." 
 
 "Oh no, you would n t! " said Miss Graythorn, 
 unperturbed. "Or, I should say, whatever you 
 might prefer to talk about, you much prefer to think 
 and listen about him ! " 
 
 Grace turned her face sharply toward Miss Gray- 
 thorn with interrogative dismay upon it. 
 
 "Hm hm! I said so," said Miss Graythorn. 
 "Wait and listen to what I m going to say. Don t 
 worry you 11 like it so much that you 11 be sorry 
 when it s over. Now, now! Be careful! I don t 
 know any more than I said I did. So don t expect 
 any news, or messages, or anything of that kind. I 
 don t want you to flutter. I am going to talk com 
 mon-sense, and you won t take it in if you go to 
 fluttering. Common-sense tells me there is a fellow 
 somewhere, and that is all I want to know. Oh-h ! 
 Is n t it delicious! How I do wish he was mine! " 
 She rolled her cheek over on one of her clasped 
 hands and smiled as if she saw a vision. 
 
 Grace could not help laughing as she said, "Oh, 
 what a goose you are, Adele ! " 
 
 "Oh no, my love! It is you who are the goose," 
 said Miss Graythorn. "I don t want this particular 
 one, you know; wouldn t take him as a gift. But 
 I d like one of em to to waken up me being, stir 
 
MISS GRAYTHORN EXPLAINS. 373 
 
 me feelings, play upon me heart-strings No, he 
 need n t do that either I d play on his but I d 
 like him to touch the chord, you know, as unmis 
 takably as it is touched within your" 
 
 "You said you were going to talk sense," Grace 
 said, laughing again. " It would be exciting to hear 
 a little of that from you. When is it going to 
 begin?" 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Miss Graythorn, dropping her 
 hands on the table. "Now I ve got her, and we can 
 start immediately. Get up! So-o! Quiet, now! 
 Quiet ! There ! We 11 go along at a nice little trot 
 to begin with, because I want you to hear all I ve 
 got to say. You must n t miss a word, dear, for it 
 is true what I told you I am going to be perfectly 
 charming! " 
 
 She left the table and sat down on the floor, fold 
 ing her arms across Grace s lap. 
 
 "You see," she said, "I ve had a great deal of 
 practice and I know all about it. That playing on 
 heart-strings and touching the chord was n t origi 
 nal; I know. pages of those things, all by heart. So 
 you must remember that I am a person of experi 
 ence, and this is what I want to say: There s a 
 Fellow. He has won Grace Desborough. Whoever 
 he is, he is in luck, because he has won her for good 
 and all. She is in lock, because he is the kind of 
 fellow who knows the heart-strings and chords to 
 perfection they call that in music, Thorough- 
 Bass - just for the sake of brevity, we 11 say that 
 he understands Thorough-Bass. Very well! Now 
 since those facts are unalterably settled, what is the 
 
374 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 use of being miserable? What is to be gained by 
 it, either way? If he was like a lot of others from 
 whom I have had lessons in Thorough-Bass, he 
 might n t keep, and if you were like me you would n t 
 care to wait for him but Good Heavens ! If 
 anybody is blind enough not to see that the fellow 
 who has reduced you to your present condition is 
 warranted well seasoned, fine make, best quality 
 why that person is doomed to discover the truth. 
 And as for you, my belief is that, if you don t look 
 out, those heart-strings of yours will break and 
 then where will be any use for all his Thorough- 
 Bass? 
 
 "Now that is firstly and secondly and as 
 many more points as you choose to make it. But 
 there s a finally to come, and this is where I am 
 going to be charming. I said I was n t going to 
 know any more unless I was driven to. If you go 
 to mooning yourself sick, I shall feel driven ! There ! 
 Yes, I will ! I m not afraid of anybody, and I 
 shan t care who gets mad. My strings are good 
 and tough. If I see an occasion for it, I m going 
 to know all I want to, and to write all I want to to 
 just whom I please, and all Paris won t stop me! 
 There ! Now I ve said my say, and if you choose to 
 go on dying of saintliness, you ve had fair warning 
 and you know what 11 happen! " 
 
 Miss Graythorn s hands were clasped over Grace s 
 knees ; she rested her chin upon them and the very 
 mischief was in her eyes as she looked up and asked : 
 "Ain t I lovely?" 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW. 
 
 AFTER Rachel left the little shanty in Gowanus, 
 Peggy tried to rouse Havilah from her depression, 
 and it was then that she observed for the first time 
 a difference in her manner. She had settled into 
 a silence which had something unpleasant in it. 
 Peggy could not make it out. She wondered if 
 Havilah regretted her decision to remain with her 
 and Scipio, or whether her conversation with Rachel 
 had only deepened the gloom of her spirits. As it 
 grew dusk, Peggy went often to the door to see if 
 Scipio were in sight. Coming back from her last 
 look down the street, she was pleased to find Hav 
 ilah in the kitchen, apparently waking to an inter 
 est in what was going on about her. 
 
 "I want to do something," she said. "No matter 
 what let me help get supper fo Uncle Scip." 
 
 "Dat I will, honey; yo can fix de taters fo me 
 to fry," said Peggy, setting a chair by the table and 
 getting out from the cupboard such things as were 
 necessary for the purpose. "Ef on y I can fin my 
 tater -knife," she said, looking in various places 
 for it. 
 
 "Oh, never mind that; a common one will do," 
 said Havilah, sitting down. 
 
376 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Reckon it 11 have to dis time," said Peggy, 
 handing her a dinner-knife. She still rummaged a 
 little, anxious to make Havilah s work easy and 
 pleasing to her. "It s a pity, coze I s got sech a 
 nice leetle sharp-p inted knife puppose fo veg ta- 
 bles," she said, giving up the search. 
 
 "This does nicely," said Havilah, cutting the 
 parings deftly. In a moment or so she leaned back 
 to see, through the connecting doorway, what Di 
 ana was about in the other room, and not seeing her 
 immediately, with sudden nervousness called her 
 name and half rose to go after her. 
 
 " Laws, Hab lah ! Set still an leab de chile lone," 
 said Peggy, and putting down a pan with some flour 
 in it, she went into the parlor, contradicting herself 
 as she went, saying: "I 11 bring her in yer, whar yo 
 can keep yo eyes on her." 
 
 She brought a foot-stool also and settled Diana 
 on it, with her work-basket and doll beside her. 
 "Dah! " she said. "Sit yer, Di, honey. Dat s a 
 lady ! Now string all dem buttons on dis piece o 
 fred an make yo mudder de pittiest necklace she 
 ebber had, an tell her yo grees wid ole Aunt 
 Peggy dat she s nerbous cose she s had a heap too 
 much to t ink bout dis day, an her min better take 
 a res . Dat s so," she said to Havilah. "Ef yo 
 spen all de time t inkin , yo min 11 git used up 
 an yo won t have any ob it left, jes de time w en 
 yo wants to use it de mos . 
 
 "I m done thinking," Havilah said quietly, and 
 she set her lips together. 
 
 "Well, dat s de bes way," said Peggy, not ob- 
 
IN THE NAME OF THE LAW. 377 
 
 serving the emphasis and proceeding to make some 
 biscuit. 
 
 Scipio came home, and before long they all sat 
 down to supper. During the meal Peggy told her 
 husband about Rachel s visit, while little Di s tongue 
 kept up an accompanying prattle about the party 
 Miss Stanwood and her mother had had in the par 
 lor, and the beautiful pies she had made for it with 
 some of Aunt Peggy s dough. 
 
 After the supper dishes were put away, and the 
 kitchen fire left to go out, Peggy settled herself in 
 the parlor, with a pile of Scipio s socks to darn, and 
 Havilah drew a chair up beside her to help. In 
 spite of the assertions which she had made repeat 
 edly as to the safety of Havilah and Diana here, in 
 the colony, Peggy had grown more and more uneasy 
 as evening approached and almost wished that she 
 had encouraged her visitors to go home with Rachel. 
 She was unusually particular about the windows, 
 closed the shutters and drew down the shades so that 
 no one from the outside could see into the lighted 
 parlor. As an excuse, she complained of draughts 
 and rheumatism. She opened the doors leading into 
 the kitchen and bedroom, on the pretext of getting 
 sufficient air in that way, but it was really that she 
 might hear if anybody came to the kitchen door. 
 But Diana was in gay spirits. She engaged Scipio 
 in a frolic in which she induced him to represent a 
 whole menagerie of animals. She often flung her 
 self against her mother, laughing and trying to ex 
 act sympathy by claiming her protection from the 
 creatures which Scipio represented. But Havilah 
 
378 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 gave the child no answering laugh, and was silent 
 through all the play. 
 
 Peggy looked at her now and then, over the rims 
 of her silver spectacles, and did not like what she 
 saw. Havilah worked at one of Scipio s blue cot 
 ton socks without knowing what she was about. 
 She sat upright, bent forward as if she was ready 
 for a spring, and when Peggy spoke, or Diana 
 came bounding upon her, her eyes moved quickly 
 to one or the other with an intense, expectant look. 
 Yet she did not understand what Peggy said, or 
 what Diana wanted, and she worked at the stocking 
 without needle or thread. 
 
 Once she caught the child in her arms and laughed 
 in a way so far from being merry that Diana ex 
 claimed, "Oh, don t!" 
 
 "Don t what, my darling?" Havilah asked, put- 
 ing her down. 
 
 "Yo hurts Di," the child said, freeing herself. 
 "An yo looks Tightened." Then with a shout she 
 cried: "Oh, Uncle Scip! Mamma s f ightened at a 
 lion! Be ze lion some mo . See, mamma!" mak 
 ing a parade of her courage, "Di ain t af aid; he s 
 a good lion ! " 
 
 It was not fright upon Havilah s face, although 
 it well might have been. For outside the shanty 
 two men were walking back and forth, trying to 
 find some opening at the lighted windows through 
 which they could peer in at the frolic. There was 
 no need of being cautious, with Scipio s imitations 
 of the roar of lions and Diana s laughter sounding 
 as loud as they did. If one of the men had not 
 
IN THE NAME OF THE LAW. 379 
 
 stepped into Peggy s pet rosebush and made its 
 branches scrape against a pane of glass, close by 
 where she sat darning stockings, their presence 
 would not have been suspected. But Peggy, hear 
 ing the scratch, held her needle with its thread 
 drawn out, at a full stop, until the rosebush, re 
 leased, sprang back into place and made another 
 sound against the glass. 
 
 Peggy put down her work and went quickly into 
 the next room, where there was no light, to look 
 out of a \vindow. She saw no one, but in a moment 
 heard voices talking in the dark. She could not 
 hear what they said, because of the noise Scipio 
 and Diana were making. 
 
 "O Lawd, dey s come!" she thought, and hur 
 ried back to the parlor with her hand lifted to com 
 mand silence. But before she could make herself 
 observed, a loud knock at the front door made her 
 husband and Diana suddenly silent. Peggy could 
 hear her heart beat. 
 
 " Open in the name of the law!" said a man s 
 voice outside. Havilah sprang like a savage at Di 
 ana. Peggy caught the child away from her mother s 
 reach and smothered her cry against herself. She 
 pointed to the stairs and whispered to Havilah : " Go 
 up dah, fo yo life! " Then she carried Diana out 
 through the kitchen. 
 
 "Go, Hab lah, go!" Scipio gasped. 
 
 "No!" said Havilah, standing, white and rigid, 
 her right hand upon her bosom. 
 
 "Open in the name of the law!" said Suydan s 
 voice outside, roughly, with another knock. 
 
380 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Havilah brushed Scipio aside with the strength 
 of a man, and herself unfastened and flung open 
 the door. She stepped back to allow her master 
 and another man to enter the room. The stranger 
 closed the door behind them, and for a few seconds 
 there was not a sound. Then Havilah, standing 
 in her motionless attitude, with her hand upon her 
 bosom, said in a dreadful whisper, her eyes upon 
 Suydan s face: "Uncle Scipio, I want Di. Give 
 me my child! " 
 
 "Yes, give her the child!" said her master. 
 "There is no help this time. They are coming with 
 me now, and it depends on how quiet they are 
 whether we put bracelets on the woman or not. Do 
 yo hear that, Havilah?" 
 
 The other man interposed, saying in a persuasive 
 tone: "Of course she s coming quiet. If there 
 ain t any struggle, what s the use of bein rough? 
 It s plain nough she ain t goin to have anything 
 of that kind, cause she understands the law. So," 
 to Scipio, who stood by the kitchen door, "if you 11 
 just allow me to pass into that room beyond, an 
 give us another light, Mister, I 11 " 
 
 "Hold on! Hold on, ef yo please, a minute," 
 interrupted Scipio in a pitiful quaver, barring the 
 man s passage. "We wants to see de rights ob de 
 case, an I ax yo to show de paper w at gibs yo 
 de claim." He felt that it was only delaying what 
 had to be, but he must do what he could. Suydan 
 handed him a paper, and invited him to move aside 
 from the door. Scipio turned pitifully from Suydan 
 to his companion, while the paper shook in his trem- 
 
IN THE NAME OF THE LAW. 381 
 
 bling hand. He did not look at it, but said, help 
 lessly: "Dey ain t nobody yer Peggy ain t yer, 
 but, ef she was, it would n t make no difference 
 dey ain t nobody yer dat can read de paper, on y 
 Hab lah." 
 
 Suydan roared with laughter, the other man join 
 ing him. "Ha! ha! ha! Read it to us, Uncle, 
 read it! " said Suydan. "We re listening." 
 
 Scipio ignored the two men for a moment. Hold 
 ing the paper in one hand and pointing to it with 
 the other, he said to Havilah, with the infinite pathos 
 of helplessness: "Hab lah, pore gell, w at s on dis 
 bit ob paper means eberyt ing in yore life, to yo 
 an yore chile. Ef dey s any kin ob wrong state 
 ment yer, den dese men has n t got de right fo to 
 take yo an lill Di way. De bes frien s we has 
 got of en tol us dat. Can t yo read de paper, pore 
 chile?" 
 
 Havilah did not move. Her eyes never left her 
 master s face. But she said, in a husky voice: 
 "There s no need to read it he s got the right. 
 He s got the right to take us, and it is that man s 
 duty to help him. If I make trouble, they can put 
 the irons on me. But the gentleman was right when 
 he said we d go quietly." Her right hand stayed 
 upon her bosom ; with the other she felt for the door 
 of the kitchen. "I 11 get the child, gentlemen, 
 and yo 11 see how quietly yo can take us both 
 away! " 
 
 But the man who was acting as constable barred 
 her passage, saying: "We can t let you out of our 
 sight, ma am. I 11 get the child." He passed into 
 
382 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 the kitchen, struck a light and searched through all 
 the little rooms for Diana. He went up the stairs 
 and looked into every corner. As it became mani 
 fest that Diana was not in the house, Suydan became 
 excited and angry. He could not join in the search 
 and leave Havilah to escape. She was very pale 
 and trembled violently. Scipio, in great distress, 
 tried to make her sit down and repeated again and 
 again, to comfort her, "Oh, Hab lah chile, de Lawd 
 won t let it las forebber!" while he went to one 
 door or another to see where the constable was look 
 ing, and returned again, unwilling to leave Havilah 
 alone with Suydan. Peggy came back, by way of 
 the kitchen, just after the constable had told Suydan 
 that the child was not in the house. Both men 
 turned upon Peggy and demanded to know where 
 the child was. 
 
 Peggy threw her arms around Havilah and an 
 swered their question to her. " Hab lah ! Hab lah ! " 
 she cried, "Yore chile ain t yer ! Dey can t tech her 
 
 she ain t yer! " 
 
 "God save her, then! " cried Havilah with savage 
 joy. She flung Peggy s arms away from her with 
 sudden violence, there was the flash of a bright blade, 
 and then Havilah reeled and fell upon the floor. 
 
 As they bent over her, she whispered : " Take me 
 
 now I m ready to go qui " and then she 
 knew no more. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ANOTHER LAW. 
 
 HORACE DESBOROUGH S first brilliant achieve 
 ment in his profession had been in the bringing to 
 light of a point of law which had been overlooked 
 by Messrs. Gray thorn and Benderly and by the use 
 of which they had won an important case. Beside 
 other issues, the decision of the case secured to their 
 client a valuable slave. In recognition of Horace s 
 services they had advanced his position in their 
 office and, in commendation, Mr. Benderly had said 
 to him these words : " Your discovery of this point 
 has aided, not only in our main success, but it has 
 helped largely in the establishment of a principle. 
 Your vigilance has resulted in an act of justice by 
 which our client s property is restored to him." 
 Horace had never come into personal contact with 
 either the client or the property, and had, for a time, 
 enjoyed his distinction and reward. His pleasure 
 in them began to diminish very soon after his ac 
 quaintance with Rachel Stanwood began, but since 
 his experience at the time of Havilah s rescue at 
 the Anti-Slavery Fair, he had realized more and 
 more the awful injustice of holding property in 
 slaves, and those words of Mr. Benderly s rang now 
 in his memory with discordant echoes which were 
 
384 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 exceedingly painful to him. As his feeling for Ra 
 chel grew warmer, his memory of that " act of jus 
 tice " became more distressing. He longed to make 
 some atonement, to redeem it by aiding in the es 
 cape of fugitives, and it seemed to him now that, 
 if he could be the means of giving their freedom to 
 Havilah and her child, he could stand before Rachel 
 Stanwood like a king. The paper containing Hav~ 
 ilah s written answers to his questions gave him all 
 the facts which he wanted. When he left Rachel, 
 he neither saw nor heard anything, as he walked 
 rapidly along the street. He seemed to tread upon 
 air, and, while he held the paper in his left hand, 
 which he thrust inside of the breast of his coat, he 
 gesticulated unconsciously with his free arm and re 
 iterated, under his breath: "Free! Free!" Could 
 Miss Graythorn have seen him, she d have thought 
 him mad. 
 
 The answers Havilah had written gave Horace 
 what seemed to him the very crown of victory. 
 They told him the circumstances under which she 
 had been purchased by Suydan, and Horace recog 
 nized from them the fact that she and her child were 
 entitled to their freedom, by the law of the State 
 in which Suydan had bought them. The law pro 
 claimed, "That if any person or persons shall, after 
 the passing of this act, bring any negro or mulatto 
 slave into this State, for sale or otherwise, the said 
 negro or mulatto slave is hereby declared free to all 
 intents and purposes." Horace knew every word of 
 it by heart, and now what he had hoped for was true ! 
 
 Havilah and Diana had both been sold under cir- 
 
ANOTHER LAW. 385 
 
 cumstances distinctly prohibited by the law, and 
 Suydaii had no rightful claim upon them. This 
 was the golden bit of knowledge which Horace Des- 
 borough had all for his own, to carry to Havilah, 
 and to return with afterwards to Rachel. He trod 
 the ground like a monarch. His only fear was lest 
 Havilah s master might reach her first and make 
 off with her and Diana, before any one could stop 
 him. If he should be armed with an official warrant 
 for their arrest they would have to go with him. 
 And, until he molested them, there was no legal step 
 to take. Horace bent his steps toward his lodgings, 
 that he might get Will Hedges to go with him to 
 Friend Holly s first of all. Friend Holly had helped 
 away so many fugitives that he would understand 
 how to meet every difficulty, and there was not a 
 minute to spare for a blunder. 
 
 Will had not come home and Horace went next 
 door to find Friend Holly. But the old gentleman 
 had gone to Newark, with Friend Morton, on im 
 portant business, and would not be home until late. 
 
 Horace returned to wait for Will, fuming at the 
 delay. Will did not arrive for what seemed an eter 
 nity half an hour and then was aggravatingly 
 cool. He wanted to understand the facts and Hor 
 ace s authority for the statement that Havilah and 
 Diana were free, before starting on their errand. 
 Horace was impatient under his questioning and 
 wanted to explain on the way. 
 
 "We might risk that, if we had Friend Holly 
 with us, but we are poor substitutes for him, let me 
 tell you," Will said. 
 
386 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 "Your coolness is maddening! " Horace ex 
 claimed. "There are Havilah and her child in the 
 man s clutches, for all you know, and your con 
 founded slowness is giving him time to get away 
 with them/ 
 
 "Old fellow, it s the coolness that is going to help 
 us most," said Will, examining his purse. "Got 
 plenty of cash?" 
 
 "Yes no! Jupiter!" Horace ejaculated, as he 
 went upstairs three steps at a time for a supply. 
 
 "We don t want to find ourselves on the Brook 
 lyn ferry-boat with a newly discovered clog at our 
 wheels," Will said, as they closed the front door 
 behind them. If you 11 take my advice and pack 
 your feelings clown in ice before you start on this 
 business, you 11 have a better chance of success; 
 but if you re going to take em with you hot, that 
 kidnapper may get the better of you." 
 
 "That may be practical, but it s not human," 
 said Horace. "I m not so thunderingly sure that 
 it is practical, either; I believe in meeting a fellow 
 like that on his own ground. George ! I wish I had 
 throttled him that night at the fair." 
 
 "I am glad you reserved him for this," said Will. 
 "But look here, we ve had no dinner we ought 
 to"- 
 
 " Hedges," said Horace, indignantly, "if you can 
 sit down and eat your dinner, with the thought of 
 that poor woman, why do it; but / propose to" 
 
 "Hold up there! " Will shouted, hailing an omni 
 bus. They climbed to the top of it, and, when they 
 had settled themselves, Will paid the fares and re- 
 
ANOTHER LAW. 387 
 
 marked to the driver: "It depends upon how soon 
 we get to the ferry whether it s half a dollar or 
 less when we get off." 
 
 "All right. I 11 give yez double that, if I don t 
 git yez there inside half an hour," the driver said, 
 whipping up the horses, while Will was saying to 
 Horace : "You ve got to keep coal on the fire if you 
 don t want it to go out; I am not cold-blooded 
 enough to want dinner, but we may be in for another 
 fox-hunt like last night s and I want myself to use. 
 If we see a glass of milk we ll nab it that s 
 all." 
 
 "You ve redeemed yourself with that offer of 
 bribery and corruption," Horace answered. 
 
 The rattle of the stage and roar of street noises 
 were so great that whatever they said had to be 
 shouted in order to be heard. Consequently they 
 did not try to talk at all until they were in the 
 ferry-boat, and there they said little. 
 
 When they reached the settlement at Gowanus 
 they perceived at once some evidences of excitement 
 which alarmed them. The people were outside of 
 their shanties, gathered into groups, and there was 
 among them an indescribable atmosphere of trouble 
 pending. As the young men drew near, every one 
 whom they passed turned to look at them. They 
 caught various phrases as they hurried along. " Be- 
 gorra, they re light weight for cun stables, so they 
 are!" came with a shout from a knot of men, and 
 then followed, from one group or another, of white 
 or colored people, such remarks and exclamations as : 
 "Mebby dey 11 stan by em! Dey mought help! " 
 
388 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Detictives ! It ll be aisy now." "Tell em!" 
 "No, don trus em ! " 
 
 It was too dark for Will and Horace to distinguish 
 the colored from the white people until they came 
 near. As they did so they heard crying and piteous 
 sounds here and there. "What is it?" they asked, 
 but did not wait for an answer. Scipio s cottage, 
 standing apart from the others, looked dark. In 
 answer to Will s knock, Peggy opened the door 
 almost instantly. 
 
 "Massa Will ! Oh, bress de Lawd fo sen in 
 yo ! " she exclaimed in a husky voice, and, grasping 
 his arm, she almost dragged him into the room. 
 The poor woman trembled from head to foot and 
 looked suspiciously at Horace, whom she did not 
 recognize. Will covered her hands with his own 
 and tried to reassure her, saying: "He s a friend, 
 Aunt Peggy the best friend Havilah has got in 
 the world. Where are Havilah and Di ? Where s 
 Uncle Scip? " 
 
 Horace, too, said, in suspense: "Where is Hav 
 ilah? We ve come to save her ! Are we too late? " 
 
 Peggy tried to speak, but her voice would not 
 come. She drew Will toward the adjoining room, 
 her lips moving with Havilah s name. 
 
 An exclamation of horror burst from the young 
 men as they saw the motionless figure of Havilah 
 stretched upon the bed. Horace was the first to 
 bend over it. 
 
 "What has happened?" he cried. "In God s 
 name try to tell us who " He could not finish, 
 and pointed to Havilah. 
 
ANOTHER LAW. 389 
 
 They had to wait until Peggy could speak. She 
 had been strong and self-possessed through all the 
 terrible scene ; but now, in the presence of sympathy, 
 she had broken down. Will Hedges helped her to 
 a chair and comforted her as patiently and gently as 
 he would have comforted* his mother. Presently 
 she told them, brokenly and in a high, strained 
 voice, what had happened: "Dey come fo her an 
 de chile bofe. I got de chile way ober to de 
 neighbors. Wen I come back dey was tryiii fo to 
 take her. Fo to take Hab lah an she done it! 
 She hed my knife ! She" Trying to tell 
 about it restored Peggy to consciousness of the pres 
 ent moment and its terrible necessity. She threw 
 herself upon her knees by the bed, bent over Hav- 
 ilah, listened to her heart, and then began to bathe 
 her face with camphor, rub her hands and make 
 every effort to restore her. "It airft done! " she 
 cried in an awful whisper. "It ain t done! " She 
 straightened herself on her knees, looked up at Will 
 and appealed to him in an agony : "Oh, massa 
 Will! Massa Will, tell me w at to do! Dey s 
 hunt in her chile ! Dey s comin back yer, w en dey 
 fin s her ! An an dey s life yer." Her hand was 
 on Havilah s breast. "Dey s Life fightin wid de 
 Lawd fo de mudder, an I m prayin 9 fo 9 de Lawd 
 to beat fore, dey comes back! " 
 
 "No! No, Aunt Peggy! " cried Horace. "Don t 
 pray for that ! Save her if you can ! Save her to 
 tell her she is free and that her child is free ! Make 
 her know just that, while I go bring " 
 
 Horace tore out of the cottage with the words 
 
390 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 upon his lips. He staggered in the darkness, but 
 soon made his way to a point where groups were 
 gathered around one of the shanties. There was 
 such a confusion of voices that for some minutes 
 Horace could get no one to listen to his questions, 
 but at last he learned that a slaveholder and a con 
 stable were in the shanty and were expected every 
 moment to come out of it with a slave child for whom 
 they were searching. 
 
 "They ve caught the mother, and they ve got her 
 safe in irons wid a guard over her, in there," a man 
 said, pointing to Scipio s. "The hack s waitin at 
 the earner, an yez can jine the crowd in escartin of 
 thim"- 
 
 Horace forced a passage for himself into the house. 
 
 Inside there was a pitiful scene. Scipio, in the 
 centre of it, was trying to quiet the convulsive sobs 
 of little Di, who was clinging to his neck with all 
 her strength. Three colored people two men and 
 a woman were hopelessly trying to plead for the 
 child s liberty; to get Mr. Suydan to listen to their 
 proposal to buy her and their promises to pay for 
 her in installments. "We can get heaps o money 
 by takin collections, an we s got savin s too," the 
 woman urged. 
 
 Mr. Suydan was demanding that the child be at 
 once handed over to the constable, who was attempt 
 ing to take Diana from Scipio. 
 
 Horace made his way to them and laid his hand 
 upon Scipio s shoulder. "Back!" he commanded 
 the constable. "You are breaking the law! The 
 child is free ! 
 
ANOTHER LAW. 391 
 
 His voice rang out loud and clear. 
 
 There was a burst of indignation from Suydan, and 
 a united cry of deliverance from the colored people, 
 mingled together. 
 
 Suydan broke out in wrath about his right to his 
 property, his order for the arrest of his slaves, and 
 the danger there was to any one who interfered. 
 Horace faced him with a repetition that the slaves 
 were free, and contested until explanation was pos 
 sible. He demanded to see the warrant for the 
 arrest of Havilah and her child. Suydan answered 
 by questioning fiercely Horace s right to interfere. 
 Scipio said beseechingly : " Is dat true w at yo sade ? 
 Is de chile free? Fo de Lawd s sake, don t say it, 
 ef it ain t true ! Fo de Lawd s sake, don t, Massa ! " 
 
 The other colored people in the room were silent, 
 following with intense anxiety every word of the 
 speakers. Diana s sobs made an incessant monotone 
 of grief. 
 
 "It is true! " Horace said. "The law made both 
 mother and child free the day this man bought 
 them in " 
 
 He was interrupted by Suydan s imprecations, 
 demands for proof, and assertions of his claims. In 
 the midst of the altercation Will Hedges appeared. 
 With quieter force he demanded to see the warrant 
 which Suydan had shown to Scipio. Suydan did 
 not produce it and claimed that it was nobody s 
 business but his own and the constable s. " The 
 constable had seen it and that was enough," he 
 said. 
 
 Will surprised him by saying quietly: "If he is 
 
392 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 a constable!" Then, when Suydan only swore at 
 him, without answering, he said : " It is useless for 
 you to fight this question, sir. If you will listen, 
 this gentleman and I will explain." 
 
 Suydan listened at last. Horace quoted the Del 
 aware law and read from a paper the statements 
 which Havilah had written as to the time and place 
 of Suydan s purchase of herself and child. 
 
 " If your warrant is a good one, you can take the 
 child," Will said, "but you will be arrested after 
 wards and have to pay the penalty. Your hesi 
 tation to show the warrant looks as if you might 
 prefer to wait and have us arrested, at our office, 
 to-morrow. We will produce the child in court when 
 we are summoned to do so, and there you will have 
 an opportunity to dispute Delaware law." 
 
 It took a little time to make Suydan, in his 
 anger, understand that the two young men knew 
 what they were talking about. He was reminded 
 by his man, who was not a constable, that the odds 
 would be against him " if the people outside got hold 
 of the idea that the niggers were free and saw them 
 taken away." Suydan was less afraid of the small 
 crowd outside than he was of the ability of Messrs. 
 "Hedges & Desborough," whose names he read 
 upon the card which Will had given him, to make 
 subsequent trouble for him. He was liberal with 
 rough and angry talk, but finally took his departure 
 with his companion. 
 
 After they were fairly out of the way, Will 
 Hedges made the simple statement to the people 
 outside that the men had labored under a mistake, 
 
ANOTHER LAW. 393 
 
 and had discovered that neither Havilah nor her 
 child belonged to them. The people gradually dis 
 persed to their homes, some feeling defrauded, the 
 negroes elated. The few who were inside of the 
 shanty were easily persuaded to avoid the excite 
 ment which might follow, if the fact of the fugitives 
 freedom were made known to so many people at 
 once. 
 
 Before long all was silent in the neighborhood, 
 and the only lights to be seen anywhere were in 
 Scipio s shanty. Around the bed where Havilah 
 lay, the little company of watchers sat waiting, in 
 the hope that a gleam of consciousness would come 
 upon her face. At last it came. Havilah s eyes 
 opened wide and fixed themselves upon Aunt 
 Peggy bending over her. 
 
 "Does yo know me, Hab lah? Yo knows ole 
 Aun Peggy?" Peggy asked the question softly, 
 but Havilah heard and said after her: "Aunt 
 Peggy!" 
 
 "Yes, honey," said Peggy, in that sweet intona 
 tion which is only heard at the bedsides of the dy 
 ing. "I s yer, honey. An Fill Di is yer. She s 
 right yer, honey does yo see Di, Hab lah?" 
 
 P e ggy g en tly moved to give her place to Horace, 
 who was holding Di in his arms. 
 
 "Tell her she ll hear you now," whispered 
 Will, behind him. "It is for you to tell her." 
 
 "Do you see her, Havilah? Your own child?" 
 asked Horace. 
 
 "Di!" gasped Havilah, alarm coming suddenly 
 into her face. Horace bent over her with Diana 
 
394 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 and said : " Di all safe, Havilah ! And free ! We 
 found it out for you, that you and your little child 
 are free. Oh, Havilah, try to hear it! Try to un 
 derstand it ! You are not a slave ! Your child is 
 not a slave ! You are both free ! " 
 
 Havilah s eyes turned upon Diana s face. They 
 rested there an instant, and her look of alarm 
 changed and softened. Horace lifted her hand and 
 laid it gently on the child s hair. "Speak to her, 
 dear," he coaxed. But Diana only began to cry 
 softly. 
 
 "Did you hear me, Havilah, what I said?" Hor 
 ace asked again. 
 
 "I heard! " she said faintly, and then, in a mo 
 ment, in a clear voice she cried out : "Free ! " And, 
 with a radiant smile, and her eyes full upon Horace 
 Desborough s face, she died. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 "FAILED?" 
 
 THE next afternoon Rachel sat at her piano play 
 ing softly to herself, and thinking. She knew the 
 whole story. Will Hedges had come in the morning, 
 before going down to the office, and told them all 
 about it. He had told it beautifully and had said 
 things about Horace Desborough which made Ra 
 chel s heart swell with pride. She knew it all, from 
 beginning to end, and was glad her mother and 
 father and she had had Will s account of what Mr. 
 Desborough had done. How would he tell it? He 
 would make Will the hero of his story, she sup 
 posed. She smiled over the keys, with her little 
 trust of the justice he would do himself. All the 
 same she was disappointed because he had not come. 
 After he and she had gone to the Anti-Slavery Stan 
 dard office, and to the Tombs, together, and especially 
 after he had made such a point of her getting Hav- 
 ilah s answers to his questions, she had fully ex 
 pected him to come and tell her what there was to 
 tell. But he had asked Will, as a favor, to come 
 up and tell the story to them, as if he preferred not 
 to do it himself. She wondered why. Perhaps be 
 cause it was such a pitiful story. Oh, how pitiful ! 
 How pitiful ! Rachel stopped playing and covered 
 
396 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 her face, the horror of it coming over her again as 
 it had been coming all day. 
 
 Yes, dreadful as it was, she would rather he had 
 come himself. She began playing one of the " Songs 
 Without Words." A picture came before her of 
 Mr. Desborough, after he had taken her hand. He 
 had spoken of his longing to do a noble thing as if 
 it were a deed of justice something required of 
 him in atonement for a mistake. That was his way ; 
 he would think of such an act as of a duty. And 
 he had spoken of doing it in order to make himself 
 worthy of - She broke off again in her playing, 
 unwilling to allow her thoughts to go any farther 
 than his words had gone. She put her hand against 
 her cheek. That was the hand he had kissed, and 
 he had asked not to be forgiven for it! Rachel 
 blushed red, all by herself, to remember how he 
 said that. He would never have said it, or have 
 kissed her hand so, unless 
 
 Yet it might easily be that he thought of her only 
 as of an intimate friend. She was responsible, more 
 than anybody was, for his feeling against slavery, 
 and he came to her, naturally, with that as a bond 
 between them. She responsible ! It was his own 
 nobleness he must have come to it, just the same, 
 sooner or later. Of course he must. May be 
 why of course it was possible that he cared for some 
 body else. How could he care for her more than 
 for anybody? The thought was absurd. Why, 
 Gracie must be a thousand times dearer than she 
 could be to him. Poor little Gracie ! If she, Ra 
 chel, could only be in Miss Gray thorn s place, to 
 
"FAILED?" 397 
 
 take Gracie in her arms and - It used to be 
 said that Mr. Desborough admired Miss Gray thorn. 
 May be that was true. How strange it was to go 
 back to those first days of their acquaintance hers 
 and Mr. Desborough s! That evening when they 
 first met and he had seemed so grand and distant ! 
 She did not like him then, and what was that she 
 had said to Susy Morton at the fair, when he called 
 Miss Saunders "Mrs. Noah"? She had said she 
 despised him ! Oh, how strange to get back to that 
 time! Kachel s fingers were trailing off into idle 
 playing, scraps of tunes, interwoven anyhow and 
 expressionless; her mind was too far away from 
 them to make them mean anything. 
 
 Yes, the girls called him "My Lord Duke " then. 
 The title was not so very far out of the way ; there 
 was something lordly about him and always would 
 be. She had meant then to keep him at a distance, 
 but she had not done it very perfectly. What would 
 Mr. and Mrs. Desborough think of her? What 
 sort of a family commotion was it going to make 
 if - Things were different now ; he was a differ 
 ent map. He had dropped the life he was leading 
 then, and instead, he was living the best one a man 
 could live. He had sacrificed everything for a great 
 principle. How grandly he broke with that firm! 
 And his father and mother condemned him for it. 
 They had left him to be poor, instead of rich. No, 
 there was nothing to worry about, so far as they 
 were concerned. They had left him to himself, and 
 they could have nothing to say now, if she Her 
 heart began suddenly to beat fast ; the bell had rung, 
 
398 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 and now the parlor door opened and Mr. Desbor- 
 ough came in. She could not advance a single step, 
 for although she told herself, no matter how many 
 times, that it could not be so, she knew perfectly 
 well what was coming. 
 
 She had risen and was steadying herself by the 
 piano. Horace stood before her looking not at all 
 triumphant as she had expected him to, but jaded 
 and depressed. He did not even come forward to 
 meet her, and the hand she had extended half way 
 dropped at her side. He was very pale and looked 
 as if he had met with some great disappointment. 
 
 "I was absurdly confident yesterday," he said. 
 "I thought I could do something, but it was a piece 
 of conceit I could n t. It was too late, Miss 
 Stanwood I failed ! " 
 
 "Failed?" she asked, with a quick, proud poise 
 of her head. "Will has been here and told us all 
 about it, Mr. Desborough how you carried the 
 little girl in your arms and " 
 
 "Yes, the child is all right, I know," he said sadly, 
 "but," with a hopeless little gesture, " I could do 
 nothing for the mother." 
 
 She caught up his words and cried: "Nothing? 
 You call it nothing? You call it nothing to be the 
 one person among us all to find out that she was 
 free, and that her child, whom she loved more than 
 life, a thousand times, was free ? You did all that 
 anybody could! You saved the child, and, because 
 your heart is great and noble, you carried the little 
 thing yourself, in your arms, to the dying mother 
 and and made her know at the last that she was 
 
"FAILED?" 399 
 
 free! You took" Rachel s sentences came in 
 broken phrases now. Her heart felt as if it were 
 bursting, and quick, heavy tears were falling over 
 her cheeks. "You took the mother all she wanted 
 in this world her child s freedom ! And oh, you 
 don t know ! You don t know ! You call it nothing, 
 and you ve got poor Havilah s dying gratitude to 
 remember all your life ! " She leaned over the piano 
 and hid her face in both hands. 
 
 Where was any defeat or disappointment? Hor 
 ace looked as if he had won the victory of his life. 
 
 "Rachel! " He spoke her name very softly, bent 
 over her and said : "Then I may ask you now never 
 to forgive what I did yesterday?" 
 
 He took quiet possession of her, but her face was 
 hidden still. Presently he asked: "And you do 
 not believe me, when I tell you that I have nothing 
 to offer you? " 
 
 "No!" she said, with the quick uplifting of her 
 head again. "It is not true! It is not true! " 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 MISS MAC CLARE S POPULARITY. 
 
 OF all the sinners who ever found a refuge in 
 Mr. Stanwood s house, Tibbie MacClare was one 
 of the most hopeless. Her story had to grow more 
 and more dreary as it went along, and there was no 
 help for it. We are nearly at the end of it, and 
 will not dwell upon it any longer than is necessary. 
 If it had no connection with Havilah, it might have 
 been omitted here altogether, as might the stories of 
 others who came in and went out through the Stan- 
 woods door during the same period. But as Hav 
 ilah and Tibbie came together, and each affected 
 the life of the other; as Tibbie was the tool which 
 presented itself conveniently to Havilah s master; 
 and as he was accountable for this last part of her 
 story coming out as it does, we must follow it as 
 well as we can. 
 
 After Miss MacClare left Mr. Stanwood s house, 
 it looked, to the casual observer and from all out 
 ward appearances, as if she had greatly bettered 
 her condition. She was taken at once by Mr. Suy- 
 dan to a hotel in the lower part of the city, where he 
 had procured for her a position which was both 
 profitable and agreeable. It was that of companion 
 to the wife of the landlord, and the salary paid for it 
 
MISS MAC CLARE S POPULARITY. 401 
 
 was excellent. It supplied Miss MacClare with a 
 wardrobe much more suitable for her, to her own 
 thinking, than were the made-over clothes of Miss 
 Stan wood, even with Miss Ri version s silk dress 
 thrown in. And Miss MacClare s duties were light 
 and pleasing. She was in the position of a lady, 
 and all that was required of her was that she should 
 make herself agreeable to the ladies and gentlemen 
 who frequented the house. With her voice, this 
 was not difficult. The house was very popular 
 through the summer, and its visitors had the advan 
 tage of hearing every evening a beautiful voice sing 
 in the most entertaining and attractive way possible, 
 without either expense or exertion. They could 
 order up their songs, too, as they did their omelettes, 
 which was an advantage over more public enter 
 tainments. And Miss MacClare, being at last in 
 her element, where she felt she belonged, was most 
 accommodating. It was her business to be so now, 
 tand it was much easier than making beds, dusting, 
 and everlasting; sewing:. She was not teased with 
 
 O O 
 
 continual advice and preaching, either. She did 
 not have to listen any more to Mr. Kreutsohn s 
 sermons. She remembered the drift of them, how 
 ever, and they served her a good turn very often ; 
 for she was an excellent mimic, and worked them up 
 into some capital performances, with songs intro 
 duced, for the parlor companies. There were quite 
 a number of sketchy little scenes which she made 
 up from her experiences at the Stan woods . She 
 collected a fund of them, which were really valuable 
 and added much that was amusing to her repertory. 
 
402 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 There was one noticeable omission in them all she 
 never brought into them any representation whatever 
 of a single member of the Stan wood family. She 
 had seen plenty of material, but she never used it. 
 Mr. Suydan had cut short one of her first perform 
 ances at the hotel by calling for a "a Stanwood or 
 two." The suggestion acted as an extinguisher on 
 Tibbie for the rest of the evening. There was 110 
 bringing of her back to a mood for merry-making 
 on that occasion. 
 
 But the visitors at the hotel got their money s 
 worth, and made much of Miss MacClare. If they 
 wanted new songs or imitations, they invited her to 
 go with them to the theatre and witness the original 
 performances ; and her quick ear, good memory and 
 wit rewarded them for their generosity. Mr. Suy 
 dan, who was an occasional visitor at the hotel, 
 particularly enjoyed her society, and she regarded 
 him as her stanchest and most valuable friend. 
 Her gratitude to him was unbounded, and she un 
 dertook with zest the commission with which he 
 entrusted her, when he first took her to her present 
 home. She was very faithful in her efforts to dis 
 cover for him where Havilah and Diana were con 
 cealed. It was by means of her letters that he was 
 saved from wasting time by looking for them during 
 the summer; and he returned to the hotel in the 
 autumn because she wrote to him that she had taken 
 another trip to Brooklyn and seen Diana "helping the 
 old nigger in his garden." She intimated in the 
 letter that, as she knew Havilah could not stay away 
 from her child more than a week or two at a time, 
 
MISS MAC CLARE S POPULARITY. 403 
 
 "a watch of the nigger s shanty might easily result in 
 trapping both." Miss MacClare s advice was acted 
 upon. Mr. Suydan came at once to the city and 
 showed his gratitude to Tibbie by making love to 
 her. Into the little week of this visit he managed 
 to put the crown and summit of her happiness. 
 That is, he kept her on the summit and promised 
 her the crown, in the form of a wedding bonnet. 
 For on the day when Mr. Suydan should return 
 with his recovered property to Delaware, Miss Mac- 
 Clare looked forward to returning with him not 
 Miss MacClare any longer, but Mrs. Lockwood 
 Suydan ! 
 
 To make the return triumphant and speedy, Miss 
 MacClare devoted herself to aiding in the recovery of 
 Havilah and Diana. Early every morning she made 
 a trip all the way to Scipio s shanty and spent hours 
 in its neighborhood, on the watch for a visit from 
 Havilah. When Mr. Desborough and Miss Stan- 
 wood met her walking with Mr. Suydan on Broad 
 way, she had just returned in hot haste from Brook 
 lyn, and had reported that Havilah and Diana were 
 under the same roof, and that the opportunity for 
 surprising them had come. Suy dan s gratitude was 
 such that he was taking Tibbie to buy the wedding 
 bonnet. It was an act of especial gallantry on his 
 part, but he owed something to Tibbie. And, as he 
 decided that it would be best to wait until evening 
 for his call at the shanty, there was plenty of time. 
 And Tibbie was a source of much amusement to 
 him ; he did not grudge her the bonnet. 
 
 When the evening came and Mr. Suydan departed 
 
404 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 011 his errand, Miss MacClare was in such gay spirits 
 that she entertained the hotel guests in her liveliest 
 manner. 
 
 This was to be her last performance, and it was 
 certainly her best. The company had everything 
 they called for. Tibbie had never been so amusing, 
 so clever, or so attractive. She almost looked pretty, 
 with a bright color in her cheeks, a glitter in her 
 eyes, her animation and high spirits. The people 
 who applauded her had no idea that she was going 
 to leave them. Oh, no ! They knew nothing what 
 ever about her marriage. That was to surprise 
 everybody. Perhaps she would leave a little note 
 with the landlady, who would read it first herself and 
 then to the company. Or may be Mr. Suydan would 
 tell the landlady, just before they went away, and 
 leave her to announce her marriage to the others 
 as she pleased. It did not make any difference to 
 Tibbie Mr. Suydan might arrange it to suit him 
 self. And Tibbie s voice rang clear and echoed 
 through the rooms with its richest power, the notes 
 pouring themselves out of the very gladness of her 
 soul. 
 
 " What was it they were asking ? Was she tired ? " 
 " Oh no, no ! She would sing anything in the world 
 they wanted." "A scene with the German gentle 
 man ? With his organ- woices ? " " Oh, yes ! She 
 never felt more like it. And she never did it so 
 well. Her representation was not at all suggestive 
 of our dear friend whom Eachel, Betty, and Dick 
 Stan wood called "Uncle Franz Kreutsohn ; " it was 
 an original production of Miss MacClare s, with yari- 
 
MISS MAC CLARE S POPULARITY. 405 
 
 ations suggested by things she had seen at the 
 theatre. It was vastly amusing. Miss MacClare 
 went from that to another and another scene, with 
 songs in between, and charmed her audience into all 
 forgetf ulness of time. She did not weary them by 
 continuing one strain too long; her performance 
 was judiciously shaded by an occasional song which 
 was serious. Perhaps, however, this was due to the 
 company, who called for the songs when they grew 
 tired of laughing. For Miss MacClare s mood this 
 evening was one of unalloyed gayety, and she sang 
 "John Anderson" and "Auld Robin Gray " out of 
 pure good nature, not because she felt like it. She 
 enacted the latter with particular spirit, mentally 
 contrasting the woes of "Young Jamie s " sweetheart 
 with her own happiness which was to begin to 
 morrow. She wound up the entertainment with the 
 cleverest of all her scenes, which she called "A 
 Party in Washington Square." In this scene she 
 represented her idea of high life, in its most fash 
 ionable aspect. She assumed the part of hostess 
 and guests in turn, and even cleverly introduced her 
 own personality, calling, in the character of hostess, 
 upon " Miss MacClare to favor the company with a 
 song." It must be confessed that her personifica 
 tion of Mrs. Biverston was excellent, but that of 
 many others was overdrawn, or absolutely original. 
 Nobody could possibly have recognized some of the 
 abolitionists from her interpretations, and her con 
 ception of a Quaker was as far from correct as the 
 comic - paper or minstrel conception of the negro. 
 But it made no difference to Miss MacClare a audi- 
 
406 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 ence; they were more than satisfied. When they 
 finally released her and separated, it was with over 
 whelming expressions of their obligation and un 
 bounded admiration of her talent. 
 
 And for Miss MacClare, her sense of what the 
 morrow was to bring was so exhilarating that the 
 very thought of sleep was impossible. She spent 
 the rest of the night in sorting and packing her 
 things, so that, however early the bridegroom might 
 call for her, he would find her ready and waiting 
 for him. But there was no need for her so to ex 
 haust her strength; it only paled her cheeks and 
 made her head dizzy to no purpose. For break 
 fast time came and was over with, the hours of the 
 forenoon dragged slowly by with length that seemed 
 interminable, and Miss MacClare s luncheon was 
 brought in upon a tray, yet no bridegroom appeared. 
 But there came a message from him. When the 
 waiter set down the tray, he handed Miss MacClare 
 a letter which Mr. Suydan had left with orders not 
 to have it delivered until then. The color and ex 
 ultation came back into Miss MacClare s face, and 
 she waited until after the waiter was gone before she 
 opened her letter. It was very short and written in 
 a clear hand, but it took her a long time to read. 
 
 It stated that the writer, Thomas Lockwood Suy 
 dan, was then, at the moment when Tibbie would be 
 reading his letter, on his way to Delaware, and that, 
 unless more of his niggers should run away, it was 
 not likely that he would again visit New York for 
 some time to come. 
 
 When he did so, however, he would make special 
 
MISS MAC CLARE S POPULARITY. 407 
 
 inquiry for Miss MacClare, at her hotel, and would 
 hope for the pleasure of once more listening to her 
 wonderful voice and witnessing her remarkable per 
 formances. Mr. Suydaii expressed his appreciation 
 of her valuable services in his efforts to recover his 
 property. He knew that she would regret the fact 
 that they had proved unsuccessful. It would not 
 be necessary to renew them, however, as the most 
 valuable part of his property was beyond reach 
 Havilah Moore having died on the previous even 
 ing and, as for the child, he had abandoned all 
 intention of taking her South. 
 
 In regard to the little ceremony planned for to 
 day, that would, of course, have to be abandoned. 
 Indeed, Mr. Suydan made it clear to Miss MacClare 
 that it was a plan which he had never seriously con 
 templated carrying out, and which he had invented 
 for her amusement. In closing, Mr. Suydaii ex 
 pressed his satisfaction in leaving Miss MacClare in 
 a position so agreeable and profitable to her, and 
 was happy to have been the means of securing it for 
 her. 
 
 Tibbie s face paled again as soon as she began to 
 read Mr. Suydan s letter, and her color did not re 
 turn. When she had read it all through, she began 
 at the beginning and read it again, and then she 
 read it a third, and a fourth, and many more times. 
 When the waiter came to carry away her tray, she 
 was sitting with the letter open before her, as if she 
 were still reading it. The waiter left the room 
 without her having either seen or heard him. 
 
 Did ever a day drag itself along so slowly? The 
 
408 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 clock on the mantelpiece clacked away at the minutes 
 and was so long in piecing off enough for an hour 
 that it seemed as if Time had nothing to do with it. 
 Tibbie sat with her letter and left Time to himself. 
 She knew the letter by heart presently, for her lips 
 moved as if she were repeating it, and she did not 
 miss a word. The waiter knocked at her door a 
 little after four o clock, and, as she did not answer, 
 came into the room. Miss MacClare was a favor 
 ite of the waiter s; he enjoyed her performances 
 immensely, from the retirement of a china-closet, 
 and was assiduous in providing the small properties 
 required for them. It troubled him now because 
 she had scarcely tasted her breakfast and had not 
 touched her luncheon. He found her apparently 
 still reading the letter which he had brought to her 
 three hours before, and he had to address her several 
 times before she noticed him. When she did so, she 
 looked at him strangely. He asked if she wanted 
 anything. She answered "No," but she did not 
 understand who he was or what he wanted. 
 
 By and by it began to grow dusk, and Tibbie 
 turned her head to look again at the man and ask 
 why he stayed. She got up and moved about the 
 room, talking to him as she did so. She told him 
 to hand her her bonnet and veil from the bed, and 
 then she got them herself. She asked him to see if 
 her trunk was locked, to give her the key to put into 
 her pocket, to put her purse and handkerchief into 
 the little reticule on the bureau. No, no ! he must 
 not touch the letter she would take care of that 
 herself; she would fasten it in the bosom of her 
 
MISS MAC CLARE S POPULARITY. 409 
 
 dress for the present. But she wanted the waiter to 
 understand once for all, that he was to obey orders 
 and do nothing unless he was told to. He might 
 hand her the gloves from the top drawer ; no 
 never mind the mantle until she asked for it; she 
 wished to put her gloves on first ; if he wished to 
 retain his position, he must not annoy her by being 
 officious. There! Now her gloves were fastened, 
 he might bring the mantle and help her arrange it. 
 She told him to come over to the mirror, where she 
 could see to pin it ; he might stand behind her and 
 place it over her shoulders so that would do. 
 Now he might go downstairs and wait for her. 
 
 She was before the mirror, by the window, where 
 there was plenty of light to show the reflection of 
 her figure plainly. Yet even when she put her 
 hands up over her shoulders to take the mantle 
 from the man to whom she was talking, there was 
 no reflection in the glass of any person beside her 
 self. The waiter went away two hours ago and 
 Tibbie was alone ! 
 
 She arranged the mantle and her bonnet ribbons 
 very precisely. Her hands fluttered from one part 
 of her dress to another, and she felt to see if her 
 bracelets and breastpin were securely fastened. Then 
 she sat down on the edge of the bed and looked about 
 her. The shadows were settling in the corners, but 
 it was not dark by any means. Everything was 
 distinguishable. Tibbie said over all the things to 
 herself this was the bed, there was the bureau, 
 and the lounge, her trunk, and the washstand ; there 
 was the place 011 the edge of the pitcher where a 
 
410 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 piece was chipped out. Tibbie had opened the 
 window and a little breeze came in, blowing the 
 curtain gently into the room; she watched it shake 
 a little and then cling to the window pane above, 
 before it swelled out ; when the breeze died away the 
 curtain dropped into its place. The twilight deep 
 ened. Tibbie opened the door of her room and went 
 into the hall. "No come back! " she said to the 
 waiter. She would wait until those people had 
 gone into their rooms. Now look again, and see if 
 she could get down the stairs and out the front door 
 without being seen. Yes? Very well, then she 
 would go. 
 
 The waiter was not there, but Tibbie had watched 
 for herself, over the banisters. 
 
 The streets were very noisy. Crowded omni 
 buses, carriages, tradesmen s wagons and vehicles 
 of every description were hurrying to deposit people 
 and goods at their destinations. Tibbie stepped on 
 to the sidewalk, looked up and down at the crowds 
 going both ways, and then, with a strained, hurried 
 look, as if she were afraid of being late, she walked 
 rapidly away. 
 
 The boarders at the Empire Hotel looked in vain 
 for Miss MacClare to entertain them on that evening 
 and on subsequent ones. They worried their land 
 lady with inquiries and suspicions which reflected 
 unpleasantly upon her treatment of Tibbie. They 
 came to the decision that the disappearance of their 
 favorite was owing to some gross injustice on the 
 landlady s part, and refused to believe that there 
 could be any other reasons to account for it. It 
 
MISS MAC CLARE S POPULARITY. 411 
 
 was impossible for her to provide anybody who could 
 entertain them as Miss MacClare had done, and the 
 popularity of the house suffered. Of course the poor 
 landlady was blameless, as it had been for her in 
 terest to keep Miss MacClare and to treat her well. 
 She tried her best to convince the boarders that she 
 had suffered a martyrdom from Tibbie s whims and 
 tantrums, and showed Tibbie s trunk as proof of her 
 own irresponsibility concerning her disappearance. 
 But the boarders regarded the trunk as evidence 
 that the landlady was keeping unlawful possession 
 of Miss MacClare s property. One after another 
 the visitors left the hotel, which only began to pick 
 up its prosperity again with the arrival of strangers 
 to whom Tibbie and her reputation were unknown. 
 
 But, although Tibbie s admirers had lost her for 
 ever, she had another audience who, in a different 
 way, profited by her performances. On an island 
 in the East River, in an asylum where whims and 
 tantrums were dealt with professionally, Miss Mac- 
 Clare appeared in a new role. After she recovered 
 from a serious illness which afflicted her in the be 
 ginning of her stay there, she introduced herself to 
 the inmates and physicians as a bride. Her name, 
 she said, was the Honorable Mrs. Lockwood, and 
 she made it understood that she was a person of 
 great distinction. She expected the Honorable 
 Mr. Lockwood to call for her in a few moments and 
 would put on her bridal veil immediately, that she 
 might not keep him waiting. As she made it a 
 matter of great importance, she was allowed to keep 
 a piece of mosquito-netting which she had claimed, 
 
412 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 and to fasten it on her hair to suit herself. The 
 occupation of arranging it became a daily one, and 
 was so soothing to her that those who waited upon 
 her encouraged her in it and provided her frequently 
 with fresh pieces of netting. There were many 
 occasions when, after her veil was satisfactorily 
 arranged, the Honorable Mrs. Lockwood joined 
 some of the patients in the parlor where they assem 
 bled for simple entertainments and diversion. She 
 would enter the room in a stately way, and greet 
 the company as her wedding guests. There were 
 times when the character and differences of the 
 many whims among the company created unrest and 
 discord, and when, at the request of one of the 
 physicians, Tibbie would sing Scotch ballads. But 
 she would not sing for anybody excepting this par 
 ticular gentleman, whom she mistook for a German, 
 and who was, she insisted, her best friend and a very 
 famous musician. For him her voice would often 
 ring out through the long corridors and, with touches 
 of its old passion, would gradually subdue the dis 
 cord and bring upon the torn, unhappy minds a 
 spirit of quiet and of peace. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE STANWOOD CODE. 
 
 WHEN Horace Desborough told Mr. Stanwood 
 what he had failed so signally in making Rachel be 
 lieve that he had nothing to give her the answer 
 which he received surprised him. He had expected 
 to enter into explanations concerning his ability to 
 provide a home and earn a living for himself and a 
 wife, but, just as he thought he was stating his case 
 finely, Mr. Stanwood cut him short. With a pleas 
 ant smile of conviction Mr. Stanwood said : " Thee 
 need not go into further details, Horace; I believe 
 that a young man who sacrifices the prospect of 
 worldly success for a principle as thee did when 
 thee left the firm of Graythorn & Benderly, has no 
 chance of remaining at the foot of the ladder. Thee 
 will climb up again fast enough, and meanwhile " 
 
 It was not so easy to say the rest, and Mr. Stan- 
 wood shook Horace s hand in silence until he could 
 add: "meanwhile it will be good to keep our dear 
 daughter with us." 
 
 This was new reasoning for a young man brought 
 up as Horace had been. "And you, too, trust me ? " 
 he asked Mrs. Stanwood, who sat by knitting. "Yes ; 
 thee has proved thyself and we are satisfied," she 
 answered. The little lady had more to say, and that 
 
414 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 also was very different from anything Horace had 
 expected. In her old-fashioned way, knitting while 
 she talked, she said : 
 
 "I have a Constitution and set of By-Laws to 
 offer thee and Rachel, and if you will abide by them, 
 I think you will get along : Make your wants few 
 and live a day at a time ; that is the Constitution, 
 and these are the By-Laws : Keep out of debt, and 
 do not borrow trouble." 
 
 Horace watched her knit a few rows around the 
 instep of a gray yarn stocking. She looked so con 
 tented and so he did not know what to call it 
 Able ? Strong ? Her hands moved with an accuracy 
 which seemed unerring: he remembered that Ra 
 chel s had moved so that evening when he watched 
 her knit the little purse which he had in his vest 
 pocket. The stitches followed one another with pre 
 cision, and the stocking was sure to come out perfect. 
 Horace had never thought of anybody knitting 
 stockings excepting old women in the country. His 
 mind drew a contrast between Mrs. Stan wood and 
 his mother; he wished that his mother knitted. He 
 did not care for the stockings, which he thought 
 would not be very nice to wear, but the occupation 
 of making them looked comfortable. 
 
 "Father Time has a wonderful way of straighten 
 ing things out, if he is only given a chance," said 
 Mrs. Stanwood. 
 
 "I don t know about that," said Horace, smiling 
 incredulously. "It seems to me that Father Time 
 requires a good deal of assistance. What would he 
 do without you, for instance ? And I think he was 
 
THE STAN WOOD CODE. 415 
 
 getting things pretty well tangled in my case. Don t 
 you think he got me into a pretty dense thicket? " 
 
 "No ; he brought thee through it and showed thee 
 a new road out of it," Mrs. Stanwood said, pleased 
 to pursue the simile. "If thee goes on as thee has 
 been doing of late, thee will come out of the woods be 
 fore long. And then there is always this to remem 
 ber," Mrs. Stanwood took off her spectacles to 
 look at Horace while she said, smiling as cheerfully 
 as if she saw in those visionary woods the lighted 
 palace of fairytales: "If thee and Rachel should 
 get lost, there will always be home to come to. Thee 
 must not forget that now thee, as well as Rachel, 
 has thy share of all we have." And the dear little 
 lady went on with her knitting, unconscious of 
 having said anything but what was the veriest 
 commonplace. 
 
 The Stanwood code was all commonplace, but it 
 was new to Horace. He had expected Rachel s 
 parents to meet him with questions and doubts, and 
 they gave him only confidence. The fact that he 
 had lost his money was to his advantage: had he 
 come to offer Rachel the position and income which 
 he had sacrificed, the chance was that he would not 
 have been accepted. He said to these people, "I 
 have lost all I had," and they answered, "We think 
 thee has gained, not lost!" Money which should 
 come to him now from his parents would be unwel 
 come almost like charity. 
 
 In deference to Mr. and Mrs. Desborough it was 
 deemed best not to make Horace and Rachel s en 
 gagement public at present. Horace wrote about it 
 
416 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 to his father and mother, knowing that they would 
 accuse him of folly of the weakest description. He 
 wrote at length, but feeling a certainty of its being 
 misunderstood, of the unselfish attitude of the Stan- 
 woods. To Grace he gave his full confidence, 
 claiming her sympathy. In both letters there was 
 the unmistakable evidence of his purpose. He might 
 have to wait, perhaps even for years, but Rachel 
 Stan wood was to be his wife. That there was any 
 opening for objections or protest, on the part of his 
 parents, was not hinted at. He wrote to them from 
 an attitude of entire independence. He took a less 
 aggressive standpoint than they might have expected. 
 He added more of his old confidence than he had 
 assumed since their differences. He wrote frankly 
 what money he was earning and what prospect he 
 had of earning more, and there was in his letter no 
 trace of an expectation that they would help him. 
 
 On the contrary his pride of independence was so 
 evident that it made interference with it impossible. 
 Enclosed in his letter was one from Rachel to Grace 
 the first she had written since Grace had gone 
 away. She had felt herself under the disapproval 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Desborough and had withdrawn 
 from her intimate relation with Grace as soon as she 
 knew that the girl was to be taken away to Europe 
 - "out of harm s way," as she called it. 
 
 Rachel had not the power to do things by halves ; 
 her opinions were positive and her natural force of 
 character led her to extremes when it came to action. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Desborough thought that she was 
 accountable for their children s abolitionism, out of 
 
THE STAN WOOD CODE. 417 
 
 which grew all their troubles Horace s abandon 
 ment of his position, Grace and Will falling in love 
 with each other. They were going to take Grace 
 away to cure her of one folly, at least, and Rachel 
 would step aside and let them try it. That was 
 her reasoning. So she allowed Grace to go away 
 without a word about the whole matter, and left 
 to her all the moves as to letter -writing and confi 
 dences. 
 
 Grace had not made them, of course. She could 
 stand by her principles, but she could not do any 
 more. She would be an abolitionist and she would 
 be faithful to Will until she died, but she could more 
 easily give up her rights, when it came to details, 
 than fight to keep them. So, between herself and 
 Rachel, there had been no communication beyond 
 such occasional messages of friendship as were con 
 veyed in letters to and from Horace. 
 
 When Horace showed Rachel the letter which he 
 wrote to his father and mother, she recognized the 
 strength of her position toward his sister and wrote 
 a simple little note expressive of sisterly feeling. 
 It was a trial to her not to express more, but she 
 had a restraining consciousness of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Desborough s eyes reading her note. Her heart 
 went out to Grace, though, with an abundance of 
 new tenderness and an intense desire to help 
 straighten things out, that she, too, might have her 
 share of joy. If Mr. and Mrs. Desborough could 
 only know the truth about Will, what a fine fellow 
 he really was, they would feel comfortable about 
 Grace. Any girl in the care of Will Hedges would 
 
418 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 be so safe, and so sure of happiness. Kachel won 
 dered if her mother could not write to Mrs. Des- 
 borough and so put matters that they would be clear. 
 Her mother was so wise, so clear-sighted, and had so 
 much power in smoothing troubled waters. If she 
 wrote, it might help all four young people and do 
 wonders toward a general reconciliation. Rachel 
 consulted Horace about it, but he was at once op 
 posed to anything like overtures coming from the 
 Stan wood family. His ideas of conventionality were 
 rigid in the matter; his father and mother must 
 first send a proper message of welcome to Rachel. 
 After that there would "be time to consider a next 
 step, but until then he meant to support, as well as 
 he could, the dignity of the Stanwood family. 
 
 It was just as well for him to take that position, 
 for family dignity was not much thought about by 
 the Stanwoods. Poor Mrs. Stanwood knew nothing 
 about the conventional methods of maintaining it, 
 and the proprieties which Horace clung to bothered 
 her. To her thinking, right was right and wrong 
 wrong ; if they made a study of how to pursue the 
 one and avoid the other, dignity and propriety would 
 take care of themselves. But she settled down con 
 tentedly to abide by the clause in the family Con 
 stitution, " Live a day at a time," and did not 
 write. 
 
 Burton River ston returned to America during 
 September, and surprised his friends by setting 
 vigorously to work to find something to do. He 
 also surprised the Morton family by making a call 
 upon them and telling them boldly of his purpose. 
 
THE STAN WOOD CODE. 419 
 
 lie was very frank, very honest, and very simple 
 about it. 
 
 He said he was very tired of loafing and was go 
 ing to try work for a while. He showed his simpli 
 city by repeating his call on various occasions and 
 singling out Susy Morton as the special recipient of 
 his confidence. 
 
 Burton was not in search of a field to conquer, in 
 place of the one which he had lost; he wanted sym 
 pathy and encouragement, and was making rounds 
 of visits among his friends in pursuit of both. He 
 was not the kind of fellow to be held up entirely by 
 his own mettle ; he needed propping. And he hit 
 upon Susy as a good prop. Susy did not know that 
 she was a prop at all, but her innocence made her all 
 the better for the purpose. 
 
 She commended Burton for being ambitious to go 
 into business, thought it would agree with him, and 
 asked him if he had picked up the idea in Europe, 
 or if it was original. He told her honestly that 
 Miss Stanwood had given it to him, before he went 
 away. Burton could not avoid talking about Miss 
 Stanwood, when an opportunity offered; he was not 
 the kind of person to bottle up his woes. His open 
 ness was a safeguard and helped him in getting over 
 his disappointment. Susy thought, 
 
 " I wonder what effect it will have when you learn 
 that she s bespoke !" She asked him. about his 
 travels. He told her all about the good and bad 
 hotels to stop at, the poor coffee and accommoda 
 tions at Zermatt, the dreadful weather and low rates 
 of cab-hire, and finally settled down to what Susy 
 
420 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 wanted, an account of the Desboroughs, with details 
 concerning Grace. 
 
 Susy had to work to get at facts, because of Bur 
 ton s absorption in himself and his scheme of going 
 into business. What interested him about Miss 
 Desborough was that " she was so nice to talk to." 
 
 "I must be that too," thought Susy, but she asked 
 aloud what they talked about. And it was in this 
 way that she found out about those talks between 
 Grace and Burton, and decided that Grace was sat 
 isfactorily homesick. 
 
 "Then she was always there, you know," Burton 
 said. "The others were sight-seeing a good deal, 
 and the Percival Grays and Rotherwells carried Miss 
 Gray thorn off all the time. They had everything 
 their own way, you know, and I had to take my 
 chance of seeing Miss Desborough when I could 
 get it. Miss Graythorn is pretty clever at planning 
 things, but then she just followed the lead of the 
 Rotherwells and Grays I beg their pardons, the 
 Percival Grays. When either of those families is 
 about, it is pretty sure to rule the empire, you 
 know, Miss Morton." 
 
 "Why?" asked innocent little Susy, looking for 
 her emery. "Are the Percivals and Rotherwell 
 Grays anybody in particular?" 
 
 Burton Riverston looked at her as if he could not 
 believe h;s ears, and then went off into a fit of 
 laughter. He said, when he could speak, that he 
 would give the price of a Grisi and Mario opera-box 
 to hear her ask that question in the hearing of his 
 mother and Mrs. Desborough. Then he informed 
 
THE STAN WOOD CODE. 421 
 
 her that "if she would take several gallons of the 
 richest part of the Cream of Society and boil it down 
 to about a thimbleful, she would get a concentrated 
 essence called Rotherwell or Percival Gray." 
 
 "And to think of your getting their names 
 twisted!" Burton said, laughing again. "I 
 wouldn t have missed that for anything. But let 
 me warn you to be careful, Miss Susy. If you alter 
 either of those names by so much as a letter, or 
 drop out a part, as I did, you 7 11 make the hair of 
 New York society stand on end. We must both be 
 careful. I promise never to tell that you did one, 
 and you must never tell that I did the other, will 
 you?" 
 
 "I don t meet the kind of people to tell," said 
 Susy, biting off her thread. Screwing up her eyes 
 to see better while she threaded her needle, she 
 added: "We don t care who people are. I never 
 see the cream of society, except by accident, and 
 then I don t know it. It s only the milk which 
 finds its way here." 
 
 The thread went through the eye of her needle at 
 last, while he was laughing again at her. 
 
 "That violet hidden somewhere under a mossy 
 stone can t compare with her in innocence," Burton 
 thought, and decided that she was the freshest, 
 most entertaining girl he had ever known. 
 
 "Didn t Miss Desborough go anywhere?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Not if she could help it; she was used up, I 
 think." Burton said. "I don t think she was well 
 -Europe doesn t seem to agree with her." 
 
422 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 "Pining! " thought Susy, with satisfaction. She 
 wanted Grace to pine, if that was the only way to 
 bring her father and mother to reason. 
 
 On his way home Burton laughed by himself at 
 the simplicity of Miss Susy Morton. "Oh, mother 
 and Clementina! " he said to himself, "what would 
 be your feelings if you knew that a Riverstoii was 
 recognized as only milk ? And may be skimmed, 
 at that? What a trump she was, not to know she 
 had said it!" 
 
 Susy was quite as simple - minded as Burton 
 thought her, concerning the milk of society, but 
 she had serious designs working up in her busy 
 mind. When Burton called again she drew him 
 on to talking more about Grace, until she felt con 
 vinced that Grace was homesick and lonely enough 
 to prove her entire fidelity to Will Hedges. That 
 was the point which concerned Susy. She was very 
 fond of Grace Desborough, but Grace was nothing 
 to her in comparison with William Hedges. Will 
 was like a brother to Rebecca and Susy Morton. 
 He had lost his parents when he was a little fellow, 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Morton had stood in their places 
 for him. His mother had been Mrs. Morton s 
 sister. So Susy s interest was enlisted in Will s 
 behalf, and she made up that simple mind of hers 
 that she had a right to show as much feeling as she 
 chose. She decided to express it in a letter to 
 Grace, and she was going to compose it with ex 
 treme care. She was not going to hurry about it, 
 and she set to work gathering her material with 
 deliberation. If Miss Gray thorn had any serious 
 
THE STAN WOOD CODE. 423 
 
 intention of entering the lists as champion of this 
 pair of lovers, she would have to be quick about it, 
 that is, if she wanted the field to herself. 
 
 The crisis in the story of Havilah came, and with 
 it came Susy s decision what to write to Grace 
 about. She set aside all her carefully collected 
 material and wrote a full account of what had hap 
 pened, from the moment when Horace and Will saw 
 Havilah escape over the graveyard wall, to the mo 
 ment when Horace told her that her child was free. 
 Her story was true and straightforward in every de 
 tail; Horace was the hero of it. Susy put Will 
 only where he belonged in it. But she did not 
 leave him out; he was there, and Grace could not 
 follow the story without seeing him all through it. 
 Susy s eyes were red with crying when she finished; 
 for she wrote from a full heart. 
 
 "There! " she said to herself, when she had sealed 
 and addressed her letter, "If that does n t help 
 Grace to a good, rousing fit of homesickness, I 
 haven t any opinion at all of her! " 
 
 The evening after she had mailed her letter she 
 went to take tea with Rachel. 
 
 "And I wish Grace would mope herself sick 
 enough to frighten her father and mother nearly to 
 death! " Susy said to Rachel when, after tea, the 
 two were taking a stroll in the garden. 
 
 "Sue Morton, what a wicked little thing thee is! " 
 exclaimed Rachel, and then, with a wish to be loyal 
 to Horace s parents, she added : " When they find out 
 what a noble fellow Will is, their feelings will alter. 
 I wish we could do something to help." 
 
424 EACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 "I m going to," said Susy, interested in getting 
 the most off the core of an apple she had been eating. 
 Her letter had but just started on its way, and she 
 felt at liberty to speak in the future. 
 
 "How?" asked Eachel. 
 
 "I m going to write to Grace and put her in a 
 panic about Will," said Susy. 
 
 "That won t help, Sue," said Rachel in a some 
 what matronly manner. "She 11 let Mr. and Mrs. 
 Desborough read thy letter, and it will make things 
 worse than they are now ; and they are bad enough, 
 dear knows." 
 
 "I can t help that," said Susy, aiming her apple- 
 core at the vegetable bed and watching it fly off at 
 a right angle. "I m not responsible for her fa 
 ther and mother. Nor for Grace, either ; if I was, 
 I d "- She stooped to pick up some pebbles, and 
 tried to make one go straighter than the apple -core 
 had gone. "If I could, I d make her do some 
 thing bad." 
 
 "Now, Sue, thee is on a prance and had better 
 stop! " Rachel said, impatiently. 
 
 "No, I m not," said Susy, looking all about her. 
 "Where did that stone go? Why on earth can t a 
 girl throw? And I m not going to stop, because 
 I m talking common-sense. I don t mean I d make 
 her do anything wicked Indians and wild horses, 
 together, could n t. I mean a nice, wholesome little 
 sin, just big enough to show her mettle. She s got 
 plenty of it, if she d only show it." 
 
 " Show it ! " exclaimed Rachel indignantly. "I d 
 like to know who ever showed mettle more decidedly 
 
THE STAN WOOD CODE. 425 
 
 than she did when she declared her abolitionism, and 
 all through" 
 
 "Oh, I know she did then," said Susy. "But 
 that was different; she was in for a big principle 
 that time, and she had to show her colors or live and 
 ,die a hypocrite. Grace couldn t be anything but 
 true, to save her life." 
 
 "What would thee call a nice, wholesome little 
 sin ?" asked Rachel. 
 
 " Walking out some fine day with Will and being 
 married to him," said Susy, throwing another peb 
 ble. "I wish she d come home and do that. And 
 ask me to be bridesmaid." 
 
 "Is thee going to recommend that in thy letter? " 
 asked Rachel. "I tell thee, thee will make matters 
 worse by writing at all. And what is the use of 
 talking about what neither Grace nor Will" 
 
 " There !" cried Susy, throwing all her pebbles 
 away recklessly. "I am glad to hear thee bring 
 Will into consideration ! Thee will have it Grace, 
 Grace, Grace all the time. But I am concerned 
 about Will. I want Grace to know what I think 
 about him, and what is due to him, and, if she cares 
 sixpence for him, to come home and marry him. If 
 she sees fit to lie down and die, and her parents see 
 fit to let her do it, it is their lookout, but I don t 
 mean to let em kill off Will Hedges without a 
 struggle! " 
 
 Rachel s incredulous laugh broke out again and 
 she said: "Nonsense! Will is in very good condi 
 tion. And thee is on a prance, as I said before. 
 But thee can rein in thy steed just a little bit, dear, 
 for Horace says " 
 
426 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Susy gave a funny little cry. "Oh! " she said, 
 addressing nobody. "Hear her say Horace ! How 
 can she say anything but His Grace, the Duke"? 
 Kay, darling, how does it feel to say Horace in 
 the presence?" 
 
 "Susy Morton, have done with thy nonsense!" 
 exclaimed Kachel, putting her arm over Susy s 
 shoulders and, in spite of her protest, enjoying the 
 girl s fun. "He says" 
 
 "Hm! He ! I can bear that better," said 
 Susy softly, and then, with a sudden embrace, she 
 said: "Go on, go on, dear! I am dreadfully mean. 
 It is all beautiful! It s a great deal more exciting 
 than to have his name come naturally, with a real 
 Quaker bang! I m glad thee isn t an Orthodox. 
 Try it again, do I m dying to know what Hor 
 ace says." 
 
 "Thee is an awful tease, and thee knows I m only 
 just learning," Rachel said, bending her head over 
 Susy s to hide her blushing. "But I won t be dis 
 couraged this is practice. Horace says Grace 
 does not improve as his father and mother hoped, 
 and that they will probably all come home in the 
 spring. We don t know, of course, how they are 
 going to take our affairs to heart. But don t write 
 anything rash, will thee, Sue dear?" 
 
 "No Q!" said Susy. "My letter is writ and 
 on its way, but I don t call it rash. It 11 come in 
 just right. But I don t believe they 11 wait until 
 spring." 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 ME. AND MRS. DESBOROUGH really had a Larder 
 time of it than they deserved. The effect of Susy 
 Morton s letter went even beyond her hopes. Not 
 those extravagant ones which she had expressed to 
 Rachel in the garden, but those which she had 
 kept to herself about "a good rousing fit of home 
 sickness." It awakened Grace from lethargy into a 
 state of mind which was distressing and which her 
 parents could not allow to continue. It ended her 
 patient waiting. Her self-control broke down with 
 exultation in her brother s nobleness and the thought 
 that it was Will, nobody but Will, who had, from the 
 beginning, led the way to such a deed. It was Will s 
 life, Will s character, to do such things, and it 
 was his hand which had pointed them out and made 
 Horace see them to do. Horace had gone like a 
 deliverer, an angel of mercy, to Scipio and Peggy s 
 shanty, but Will was at home there! Grace s "liv 
 ing her best " was over with, and the long monotony 
 of her submission was at an end. She sobbed it all 
 out in her mother s arms and made her read Susy s 
 letter to see it for herself. Mrs. Desborough did 
 not see it, of course, but how could she show Grace 
 the plain prose of things while the girl was making 
 a Jeanne d Arc of herself, seeing visions? 
 
428 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 "I don t know what all the young people are 
 coming to taking things into their own hands, as 
 they do," Mrs. Desborough complained, after she 
 and her husband had been talking some time about 
 the troublesome lovers. "What are you going to 
 do, Robert, about this perfectly ridiculous letter of 
 Horace s? Oh, it makes me wish we had never lived 
 in New York; I wish we had come over here and 
 settled, when the children were young enough to 
 manage! " 
 
 "And have them fall in love with foreigners and 
 marry the devil knows whom?" asked Mr. Desbor 
 ough, with impatience, taking the cigar out of his 
 mouth as he spoke. They were sitting in their par 
 lor, late in the evening, to talk it all out in the quiet. 
 
 "That is n t the way they do over here at all," 
 said Mrs. Desborough, who was sitting, half reclin 
 ing, upon the lounge. "If we had lived here, the 
 children would have grown up with the idea that it 
 is the parents business to arrange those things." 
 
 "Yes, perhaps," said Mr. Desborough, scowling 
 at his cigar. "And where would you make your 
 selection? A wishy-washy Frenchman for Grace? 
 Or an Italian ? Or would you give her to an English 
 man ? Bah ! Talk sense, Marie ! " 
 
 His wife had struck the wrong key; Mr. Desbor 
 ough hated foreigners, and there had sprung up in 
 his mind a picture of one of them asking Grace of 
 him, and, in contrast, the memory of Will Hedges 
 standing before him, refusing to give her up, and 
 showing every kind of noble ambition to make him 
 self worthy of her. 
 
HOME. 429 
 
 And, after all, was n t the fellow doing it ? What 
 was there for anybody to say about the story which 
 Grace s gossiping little friend had written? The 
 two fellows had been on the side of justice the 
 Southerner was trying to claim what did not belong 
 to him. Even Messrs. Gray thorn and Benderly 
 could not help recognizing that ; and when it came 
 to a woman killing herself rather than go back into 
 slavery, it put all ordinary human sympathy on her 
 side, no matter who she was. There was nothing 
 but commendation to give to Horace and young 
 Hedges in this case. And it was making an im 
 pression, too, which was going to help and not in 
 jure Horace. Here was the letter Mr. Desborough 
 had received the other day from his partner, which 
 said: "The acuteness which served your son in his 
 former position has not deserted him in his present 
 one ; he has discovered a flaw in the title of a slave 
 holder to two slaves whom he was pursuing." It 
 was very comfortable, too, to have justice on the 
 side of the slaves, and it gave Mr. Desborough the 
 opportunity to express his satisfaction in his son s 
 course, and to denounce, for once and without re 
 serve, that of a slaveholder. He did so to his wife, 
 and added with relish his belief that Horace was 
 going to make his mark and that things did not look 
 as if the firm of Hedges & Desborough were going 
 to do a starvation business at all. 
 
 "But what are we going to do, Kobert?" his 
 wife asked. "What are we going to do?" 
 
 "Well, my dear," said her husband, with a big 
 sigh, "if you want my practical opinion, I 11 give 
 
430 EACH EL STAN WOOD. 
 
 it to you, I think we are going to submit to the 
 inevitable." 
 
 "What do you mean, Robert? " asked Mrs. Des- 
 borough, with irritation, and sitting upright. "Do 
 you mean that you won t oppose this absurd mar 
 riage? And can t you see what it will lead to, if 
 you don t! With Horace married to this Stan wood 
 girl, and Grace more than ever under her influ 
 ence Do you want to make young Hedges more 
 determined than ever not to give Grace up?" 
 
 "No, my dear," said her husband, throwing his 
 cigar-stump into the fireplace. "I don t want any 
 of the four young people to marry as they have 
 decided to. If you ask what I want, it is easy to 
 answer. I want Horace to give up Miss Stan wood, 
 and Grace to give up young Hedges. It would suit 
 me perfectly if Hedges and Miss Stanwood would 
 pair off and marry each other. That is what I would 
 like. But when you ask what we had better do, I 
 say certainly in Horace s case, and perhaps even 
 in Grace s we had better submit to what can t be 
 helped. Whatever we do is not going to make any 
 difference in Horace s course. He is going to 
 marry Miss Stanwood." 
 
 "And she has played her cards well! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Desborough. "To think of that girl, without 
 family, I don t believe anybody knows who the 
 Stanwoods are, Robert, to think of her carrying 
 off Horace! I declare it is enough to make one s 
 blood boil ! The Riverstons have always said that 
 her audacity exceeded everything. And they know 
 what they are talking about, for Burton tried to get 
 
HOME. 431 
 
 her. Think of that, Robert!" Mrs. Desborough 
 sat upright again and let her hands fall to the sofa, 
 on either side of her. " Think of her refusing Bur 
 ton Riverston ! Think of him, so much with Grace 
 and Adele Graythorn as he was, and when his 
 mother talked to him about the girls (she d have 
 been thankful if he had taken to either of them, 
 although she would much prefer getting Grace for 
 him), think of his telling her that he was n t in the 
 market because the only girl he wanted had refused 
 him!" 
 
 " Well, my dear, Miss Stanwood shows good taste 
 in preferring Horace to Burt Riverston there s 
 that to say for her," said Mr. Desborough. 
 
 "I did not think Horace would yield to her so 
 easily," said Mrs. Desborough, in a wailing tone. 
 "I thought his safeguard, for some time to come, 
 was going to be his poverty. That s the only 
 thing which has reconciled me to his sacrificing 
 everything so, and refusing even to draw his allow 
 ance. But I might have known that poverty would 
 be only an attraction to the Stan woods; I believe 
 they look upon prosperity as a crime. If Horace 
 had behaved himself and remained in the respectable 
 position he held, I don t believe the Stanwood girl 
 would have cared a pin for him." 
 
 Mrs. Desborough threw herself dejectedly among 
 the cushions and put her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 "There, dear!" said her husband, moving his 
 chair to the head of the lounge that he might stroke 
 her hair. "Don t cry, dear. I must confess, Marie, 
 that I believe I d rather have Hedges than Burton 
 
432 RACHEL STANWOOD. 
 
 Eiverston for Grace. Burton lias no "business 
 capacity whatever, and I m afraid his disappoint 
 ment in love will send him to the dogs. He never 
 will do anything with himself now." 
 
 "No, there you are mistaken, Eobert," said Mrs. 
 Desborough, drying her eyes. "He has gone home 
 for the express purpose of going into business, and 
 declares that it is Miss Stanwood who has inspired 
 his ambition." 
 
 "He is n t qualified for anything I know of," said 
 Mr. Desborough. " What business does he propose 
 to begin with? " 
 
 "When his mother asked him," answered Mrs. 
 Desborough, "he told her that he could wheel a 
 peddler s cart, if he could n t get anything else to do, 
 and, if that failed, that he could sweep the streets ! 
 He was furious because his mother and sister tried 
 to show him what kind of a girl Miss Stanwood 
 really was. But he would not listen to a word 
 against her, and told them that she had done more 
 for him than they ever had, or ever could. He said 
 she had made him ashamed to be a loafer any longer, 
 and that he was going to do something, if he died 
 for it he d earn his salt, if he could n t earn his 
 bread. And then he told them that if he ever 
 amounted to anything, he d have Miss Stamvood 
 to thank for it! Now wasn t that pretty hard for 
 his mother to have to listen to, Eobert?" 
 
 "Pretty hard," said Mr. Desborough, smiling a 
 little grimly to himself. "But there is more in the 
 fellow than I supposed." He went on stroking his 
 wife s hair while she continued: "The Eiverstons 
 
HOME. 433 
 
 are worried to death for fear he 11 take up some low 
 kind of business which will disgrace the family. 
 Just think of the harm that comes from that girl s 
 influence ! And now she has got Horace ! Robert, 
 you rub my hair the wrong way, dear. Of course 
 he sees no difference between Burton Riverston and 
 my poor young man who wants to earn a living. 
 She d recommend anything to him ; she has no high 
 born instincts." 
 
 "It will be some little consolation, then, to the 
 Riverstons, to see her influence transferred to our 
 family," remarked Mr. Desborough. 
 
 "Oh, dear, of course it will! " sighed his wife. 
 
 "Well!" said Mr. Desborough, finally, as they 
 prepared to go to bed, " I m sorry for the choice 
 which Horace has made, but, as I said, we have got 
 to submit. My objections are not exactly yours; 
 but it does n t make any difference, because they 
 have all got to be given up. As to the girl s per 
 sonal qualities " 
 
 "Oh, she s good enough! " exclaimed Mrs. Des 
 borough. "She would make an excellent wife for 
 somebody in her own station, I don t deny that 
 but"- 
 
 Mr. Desborough put his hands in his pockets and 
 said with some emphasis : " The girl who can make 
 Burton Riverston, by refusing to marry him, want 
 to stop loafing and make a man of himself, is some 
 thing more than good -- she s a girl of charac 
 ter!" 
 
 "Good heavens ! I don t deny that, either," cried 
 Mrs. Desborough. "There is just the trouble; she 
 
434 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 has so much character that she will smother us all 
 in it. We shall be charactered out of decent so 
 ciety into a mob of abolitionists before we know 
 it!" 
 
 The last day of October brought Horace Desbor- 
 ough such a batch of letters from Europe as he had 
 not received by any week s mail since his family had 
 been away. We give such quotations from them as 
 indicate the effect which his and Susy Morton s let 
 ters had produced. 
 
 Mr. Desborough wrote: "Your communication 
 has taken us by storm, although I suppose we might 
 have expected it. Present our regards to Miss 
 Stanwood and her family. As we have taken pas 
 sage on the Ville de Havre for the 27th it is un 
 necessary to add more ; we can offer our congratula 
 tions in person. Have the house open, and in such 
 readiness for us as is possible. On Grace s account, 
 have it thoroughly aired and the fires lighted. As 
 your mother will see you so soon, she does not write, 
 but asks me to give you her love and to forward a 
 suitable message to Miss Stanwood. I heartily com 
 mend your action in the case reported to us through 
 a letter from Miss Morton to Grace that of the 
 slaveholder who made a false claim upon a woman 
 and child, whose title to freedom you established. It 
 is to be regretted that the woman did not know of 
 her title in time to prevent her from taking her 
 life." 
 
 In the superscriptions of the other letters, Horace 
 recognized the writing of Eloise and Miss Gray- 
 thorn. Miss Gray thorn wrote: 
 
HOME. 435 
 
 MR. HORACE DESBOROUGH : 
 
 Dear Sir, In your new character of Abolition 
 ist, I am uncertain how to address you, and would 
 not do so at all, if I did not consider it my duty to 
 your sister Grace, with whom, of late, I have been 
 closely associated, as you are aware. I have not her 
 confidence, but I have ordinary perceptions, and, if 
 you are acquainted with the gentleman in whom she 
 is interested, I would recommend him, through you, 
 to take active steps toward what I should call a suit 
 able climax to his friendship. Pardon me, if I am 
 innocently offending the sentiments of abolitionists. 
 
 N. B. I have learned that the gentleman above 
 mentioned is an abolitionist also, and, as I do not 
 understand the code of such people, I may, in igno 
 rance, make suggestions which would be opposed to 
 its principles. 
 
 I am fully aware that the object for which said 
 abolitionists live, move, and have their beings, is to 
 sacrifice for a principle; if, therefore, the gentleman 
 in question should prefer not to lose the opportunity 
 of sacrificing the life, as well as the happiness of 
 Miss Grace Desborough, pray do not allow anything 
 which I have written to influence him. A little 
 more patient waiting may bring about such a result 
 and thereby complete the amount of sacrifice to 
 which the gentleman aspires. 
 
 I have made an effort to express myself in as 
 legal a manner as possible, in order to be understood, 
 and am, Your obedient servant, 
 
 ADELE DE M. GRAYTHORN. 
 
436 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 Eloise had written : 
 
 DEAR HORACE, There ain t much to write 
 about Grace, because she lies down most all the 
 time. But you needent worry about her because 
 they are going to get something to make her well. 
 It is named Nostalger and it is made in America and 
 I know you have to get it fresh for the doctor told 
 Papa that he better take Grace home to get it in 
 stead of waiting here and sending to America for 
 it. I guess it costs a great many thousand dollars 
 because Papa said he wasent prepared to get it right 
 away and he says that when he don t want to buy 
 very expensive things. But the doctor was a ninny 
 to think Papa wouldent buy it no matter what it 
 costs and I told Mamma 1 would give all my money 
 tored paying for it and you might give a whole lot 
 more if you had stayed at Graythorn and Benderlies 
 arent you sorry you left. 
 
 Your affectionate sister, Miss BUDGET. 
 
 P. S. I guess I told you enough about Gracie 
 this time and if you hadent said you d be mad Ide 
 have left out part and told you about the play I 
 went to see last week arent you sorry ? 
 
 Inside of Miss Budget s letter Horace found a 
 note from Grace which we give verbatim, as we 
 have that of Miss Graythorn. 
 
 Grace wrote: "DEAR HORACE, Tell him I am 
 coming home to him. GRACE." 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 RIGHT - ABOUT FACE ! 
 
 HORACE DESBOROUGH pored over his letters and 
 gathered from them the impression that Grace s con 
 dition was more serious than he had supposed. His 
 father s was worded cautiously, as if to spare him, 
 or prevent him from alarming Will Hedges, Horace 
 could not tell which; from Eloise s he inferred that 
 Grace s life depended upon getting home speedily, 
 and Miss Graythorn evidently desired him to convey 
 to Grace s lover the impression that he might, if 
 he was bold and prompt, snatch her from the jaws 
 of death, but that it was extremely doubtful if he 
 would be in time. Grace s little penciled scrap 
 read something like a dying message. Horace 
 studied the letters with Rachel, and they decided 
 not to communicate their apprehensions to Will. It 
 would be better on every account to have him and 
 Grace meet at her home. Rachel and her mother 
 gave Horace practical assistance in arranging for 
 the arrival there of the family. Mrs. Stanwood 
 sent Grandmother Rab to superintend things for 
 Horace, and Rachel made a visit herself to Grace s 
 room, the only part of the house where she felt at 
 liberty to leave any evidence of her personal ser 
 vices. There she left her bunches of autumn leaves 
 and berries, and the garden s late honeysuckles. 
 
438 EACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 But when the steamer landed its passengers in 
 New York, Grace could scarcely be called an in 
 valid. She looked pale and thin, and older than 
 she ought to, but not at all as if her happiness and 
 health were wrecked. She had a wan, hungry ex 
 pression, but one, too, that was expectant of joy to 
 come. 
 
 After the manner of children, Eloise broke the 
 ice of embarrassment. As soon as they were all 
 boxed up in the carriage, she exclaimed, in a tone 
 which had to be loud to be heard above the street 
 noises, "Horace, I heard you tell Gracie that he 
 sent her those roses ; who is he ? " And without 
 waiting for an answer, she fired off a volley of ques 
 tions and remarks which were like a burst of fire 
 works: "Horace, am I to say Miss Stan wood, 
 or Kachel, as Elizabeth does? Will Elizabeth be 
 my sister too ? And have I got to have Eichard for 
 my brother? I hope I haven t ; he s a hateful 
 tease. Will you be going to Quaker meeting in 
 stead of church? And, if you do, can t I have 
 your prayer-book for mine? And have I got to 
 call Mr. and Mrs. Stan wood Uncle or Aunt 
 anything? One thing I wont say Uncle Scipio 
 and Aunt Peggy. Horace, have you got to have 
 a lot of black relations?" 
 
 These plain questions were startling, but there 
 was no better way to get over approaches to awful 
 subjects, and it was certainly a good beginning to 
 have everybody forced to laugh. 
 
 " This is the sort of thing you must expect to hear 
 a good deal of, Horace : we are all as curious as 
 
EIGHT- ABOUT FACE. 439 
 
 Eloise is to hear what you have to say," Mr. Des- 
 borough said. 
 
 Horace was glad to answer and said, without 
 hesitation or embarrassment: "Well, Miss Budget, 
 if you are very good to her, I will get Miss Stan- 
 wood to let you call her Rachel. Under the same 
 conditions you may, in time, secure from her father 
 and mother the privileges of a niece, but you need 
 not think of such a thing with regard to Uncle 
 Scipio and Aunt Peggy. For myself, I have al 
 ready asked them to adopt me as their nephew." 
 
 And so, under cover of pleasantry, a good deal 
 of difficult conversation was warded off. 
 
 Mrs. Desborough was less conciliatory than her 
 husband, but Horace accepted what she substituted 
 for cordiality. When Horace made a move, later 
 in the evening, to go away, she said: "I can t do 
 anything about the Stanwoods, Horace, until I get 
 rid of the motion of the steamer, but I will call 
 then, if you wish it." 
 
 "Yes, mamma dear," Horace answered, kissing 
 her good-night, "I wish it very much. After that, 
 I will bring Miss Stan wood here, if you invite her." 
 And his mother recognized his old, authoritative 
 manner which showed her there was nothing to be 
 gained by resisting his exactions concerning the 
 Stanwood family. 
 
 If it had not been for him, she would have inclined 
 to take advantage of their ignorance of social forms. 
 Their knowledge of rules which regulate society, in 
 questions of etiquette and conventionality, was su 
 perficial, and their very willingness to be passed by 
 
440 RACHEL STAN WOOD. 
 
 in matters of formal courtesy made Horace watchful 
 of the slightest omission on the part of his family. 
 The social forms practiced among Quakers were 
 generally dictated by feeling, not rules. 
 
 The next morning it was all settled with regard 
 to William Hedges. 
 
 u Papa," said Grace, standing before him in the 
 library, with Will s roses in her hand, "will you 
 come downstairs ? Mr. Hedges Will is there. 
 He sent me these flowers yesterday. We have 
 waited and Oh, papa, don t you see? " 
 
 She spread her arms out and he saw the wan, 
 hungry look in her face, lifted to him with her ques 
 tion. He took her face between his hands and 
 looked into her eyes a moment; then he bent his 
 head and kissed her, saying: "Go down first, my 
 darling; he will expect you." 
 
 Mrs. Desborough would have been happier under 
 a dispensation of more form and less heart. There 
 was altogether too much heart for her liking, in the 
 first formalities, or informalities which were offered 
 by both the Stanwoods and Mortons. It was trying 
 to go with Grace simply to call, and to be forced at 
 once to accept invitations to tea. 
 
 "To think of that Anti-Slavery Fair, Robert," 
 she said, "and all Horace had to say about the peo 
 ple then, and now we are all going to tea first to 
 Aunt Debby s and next to Aunt Hannah s !" 
 It did seem to the poor woman as if she had to ac 
 cept Quaker hospitality in pretty large doses. Her 
 calls were disappointments in another way, too ; she 
 had expected to be impressive, and failed signally. 
 
RIGHT-ABOUT FACE. 441 
 
 The Quakers did not appreciate her pedigree, and 
 the attitude of both families toward her showed a 
 consciousness of as much distinction conferred as 
 was to be received, by either a Morton or a Stan- 
 wood, in an alliance with a Desborough. Mrs. 
 Stanwood, particularly, aggravated Mrs. Desbor 
 ough. 
 
 "There she sat, Robert," the latter said, u in her 
 gray gown and white silk shawl, and when I told 
 her that your mother was a Wallingford and my 
 grandfather was a Farenby, she said comfortably 
 that Rachel s great-grandfather was a Fusby, and 
 her grandmother was a Gleason, or Grayson I 
 forget which. She does n t know the difference, 
 Robert, between a Fusby and a Farenby! " 
 
 Poor Mrs. Stanwood did not, and never 
 learned. In all the adjustments which followed the 
 marriages of Horace and Grace Desborough, Mrs. 
 Desborough suffered most. But, although, at the 
 time, she had so much that was trying to bear, from 
 the point of view of her pew in church and her all- 
 important position in society, she was the gainer in 
 the end. For, in a few years, she held her head up 
 with the best of American aristocracy and boasted 
 with pride of her connection with the genuine old 
 abolitionists. 
 
w fL *""/ " ~aiAJ-tMV^L\jjr 
 
 Rachel Smanwood 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 BOOKSELLERS.