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.