AFTEE MA1STY DAYS: A NOVEL. BY CHKISTIAN EEID, AUTHOB OF *'A QUESTION OF HONOB," " MOBTON HOUSE," " VAXEBIE AYLMEB," ETO. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 649 AND 551 BKOADWAT. 1877. COPYRIGHT BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 1877. CONTENTS. PART I. CHAPTER PAGE I. WILD-FLOWERS . . . . . . . .5 II. " JEWELS WILL BE BETTER " . . . . . . 9 III. "'Tis BUT A LITTLE FADED FLOWER" . . . . . .13 IV. "ALTOGETHER AN ACCIDENT" '. . . . . . 17 V. THE HEIRESS OF CEDARWOOD ' . ' . . . . . .22 VI. UNDER AN APPLE-TREE . . . . . . . 28 VII. HUGH RECEIVES A COMMISSION ....... 35 VIII. " So LONG AS YOU ARE AMUSED " . . . . . 39 IX. MR. TRAFFORD OFFERS ADVICE . . . . . . .45 X. " I WANDERED BY THE BROOKSIDE " . . . . . . 60 XI. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO PAY YOUR DEBT?" . . . . .56 XII. "AN ABSOLUTE STROKE OF LUCK" ...... 62 XIII. "WHERE is THE MINIATURE?" ....... 69 XIV. MRS. LATHROP FULFILLS A DUTY ..... 75 XV. A TRIUMPHANT DEBUT . . . . . . . .81 XVI. "I HAVE LIVED AND LOVED 1 ' ....... 88 XVII. " THE LIGHT IN THE DUST LIES DEAD " . . . . . .94 XVIII. "I WILL HOLD YOUR HAND BUT AS LONG AS ALL MAY 1 ' . . . 100 XIX. "THE THORNS I REAP ARE OF THE TREE I PLANTED" . . . .106 XX. EXEUNT OMNES . . . 112 1747010 4 . CONTENTS. P A K T II. CHAPTEB "* PAGE I. AFTER TEN YEARS . . . . . ... 122 II. A SHADOW OF THE PAST . . . . . . . 128 III. AT LAST! . . . . . . . . . .133 IV. IN RICHMOND PARK . . . . . . . .139 V. " SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT ? " . . . . . 145 VI. A VOICE FROM THE PAST ....... 151 VII. "THE LUXURY OF REGRET" . . . . . . .155 VIII. "OLD SENTIMENT" . . . . . . .161 IX. "FOR THE SAKE OF THE PAST" . . . ... . .167 X. AFTER ALL, OLD THINGS ARE BEST . . . . . . 172 XI. "I REMEMBER WELL 1 ' ........ 177 XII. "THE LITTLE LESS, AND "WHAT "WORLDS AWAY!" . - . . 182 XIII. "SCORES ARE SETTLED BETWEEN Us" . . . . .187 XIV. " I WILL FIND THE WAY ! " . . . . . . 192 XV. THE BLOW FALLS ......... 198 XVI. "CHECKMATED BY FATE" ....... 203 XVII. "AFTER LONG GRIEF AND PAIN" . 208 AFTER MANY DATS. PART I. CHAPTER I. W I L D - F L O W E E 8. A WOODLAND glen into which the goft April sunshine streamed, through which a bright brook babbled, where graceful trees leaned over the water, and flowers of many kinds covered the ground like a carpet : on a flat stone at the foot of one of these trees a girl of sixteen sat dabbling a leafy branch in the current of the brook, and varying this amusement occasionally by leaning over to look at the water, which gave back a reflec- tion of her face and of the white blos- soms of a hawthorn which arched over- head. Near by, a boy, probably two years her senior, also sat, engaged in weaving, with remarkably dexterous fingers, a wreath of wild-flowers, which he had evidently gathered in the course of a long ramble. " I don't think there's anything in the woods prettier than this crimson honey- suckle, Amy," he said. "See what a vivid color it has ! " "It is very pretty," said Amy, glanc- ing up. " But I care more for the sweet- ness than the color. Give me a spray, Hugh." " Wait a minute," said Hugh, " and you shall have the wreath. I am making it for you. I'll put a long, trailing spray behind. There, now I I call that pictu- resque ! " . He extended the wreath at arm's- length, looked at it admiringly, then rose and laid it on his companion's head a head covered with unruly masses of chest- nut hair, in rich, curling waves. " It's very becoming to you ! " he said, stepping backward for a better view, and nearly tumbling over an outspread root into the water. " What a lovely Queen of May you'd make, Amy ! " Amy leaned over and looked at her- self in the clear brook. "Tor I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May,' " she hummed, under her breath. "It's likely, isn't it? " she added, with a laugh that had a slight ring of bitterness. "Fancy anybody in Edgerton thinking of Amy Reynolds as Queen of May ex- cept you, Hugh ! " " I'm not the only person who thinks you the prettiest girl in Edgerton," said Hugh. " I sometimes wish I was ! Oh, yes, I do ! " as Amy looked at him, arch- ing her brows in a challenging fashion she had. " It's no pleasure to me to hear men say, ' There goes pretty Amy Rey- nolds.' I always feel like knocking them down and I'm not large enough for that," he ended, ruefully. "I shouldn't advise you to try it," said Amy, and again her laugh rang out, this time full of unalloyed gayety. " You are not large, Hugh, and the consequences might be unpleasant. Besides " with an almost Gallic shrug " what does it mat- ter? Am I injured by being called AFTER MANY DAYS. 'Pretty Amy Reynolds?' It's not re- spectful but theri it is meant to be com- plimentary." "And you like compliments?" said Hugh, with an attempt at sarcasm. " Of course I like compliments," an- swered Amy. "I'd prefer them to be respectful, but a person in my position can't expect that." " Now you are talking nonsense," said Hugh, severely. "A person in your po- sition ! As if you are not as good as any- body!" " Am I ? " the girl asked ; and her lip too young a lip by far for such an ex- pression curled scornfully. " That de- pends on what you mean. I hope I am as honest as anybody; but I'm poor and obscure, and I don't think that is exactly ' as good as anybody.' But we won't talk about such disagreeable things. "What are you going to do ? " He had taken a book from his pocket while she was speaking, and opened it ; then he produced a pencil, and answered : " I am going to see if I can draw your head. Sit still, and look at the hill over there." This was apparently not a new pro- ceeding, for it excited no surprise. Amy said, "I'll look at the dogwood-tree," and Hugh went to work. He sketched rapidly, and with the ease of one who had acquired, from long prac- tice, perfect command of the pencil. If there had been any artist by to glance over his shoulder, he would have been surprised to see how accurate was his eye, how steady his hand ; and his sur- prise would have increased to amazement if he had known that the boy was alto- gether self-taught. "With clear, vigorous strokes he drew the outlines of the grace- ful, spirited head, the long, waving lines of the beautiful neck, and still unformed but symmetrical figure. He shaded al- most as rapidly as he sketched, and his pencil was busy with the flowery wreath and rippling hair, when Amy spoke, ab- ruptly : " Hugh, wouldn't you give anything to be rich ? " "I shouldn't care about being rich," Hugh answered, glancing from his book to his sitter and his sitter to his book, in true artist-fashion. "If I had money enough to go away and learn to be a painter that's all I'd ask." " That's all you care for," said Amy. "But I care for a hundred things, and for all of them I want money, money, money! There isn't anything in the world, Hugh, that money can't buy ! " " You are mistaken about that, Amy. If you were ugly, it could not buy you a pretty face." "And what good is my pretty face, when I never have a new dress or a be- coming hat from one year's end to anoth- er ? " demanded Amy, aggrieved. " Do yon know how I would look if I had on that lovely hat Miss "Waldron wore in church this morning ? " " I've no doubt you'd look very pret- ty," replied Hugh, "but it couldn't be any more becoming to you than your wreath of wild-flowers." Amy tossed the head on which this wreath reposed. Wild-flowers were, in her sight, less than nothing compared to a French hat in the latest style. " That is absurd ! " she said, trench- antly. " You are a boy, and you don't know what you are talking about. If I was rich, I would have the most beauti- ful dresses prettier than anybody here wears, except Miss "Waldron and I'd drive in a pony-carriage, and papa should never give another music-lesson, and Felix should go to Leipsic, and the other boys to the lest schools, and Mariette should be dressed like an angel, and you should go and learn to be a painter, Hugh." " I am much obliged to your ladyship," said Hugh. " And after I had learned, would you allow me the honor of paint- ing your portrait? " " Yes, and I would wear violet velvet and point-lace and pearls for you to paint it in." WILD FLOWEKS. "I like you best as you are," said Hugh, " and I really don't think it's right, Amy, for you to think so much about such things. It only makes you miserable, since you can't have them." " But I will have them ! " cried Amy. " I am determined on that, Hugh. I will be rich ! I am sick and tired of the grind- ing life we lead, of worry and debt and scraping and pinching, and wearing Avashed-out dresses ! People who have never known the want of money may talk of it's being wrong to desire it," the girl went on, passionately, " but I know that there is no prison on earth like pov- erty, and I hate it, and I don't mean to bear it ! " Hugh looked at her with a pair of very clear, serene eyes the only attractive feature in his boyish face. From his ear- liest childhood he had known the life of which she spoke ; at this very moment he was held prisoner by " those twin-jailers of the daring heart, low birth and iron fortune," but it was not in his nature to rebel with such bitterness and defiance as this. Though he was not able to make art the pursuit of his life, its exercise was still a delight to him ; and when he held a pencil in his fingers, he scarcely sighed even for the instruction which at other times he would have bartered anything to win. Young as he was, he had been tossed about the world enough to know something of its dangers, and he felt a thrill of fear as he looked at the beautiful face before him, and thought of the pas- sionate, undisciplined nature longing so madly for the pleasures and trappings of wealth. "You should not talk so, Amy," he said, reprovingly. " You may be sure it is very wrong. How can a girl like you make money ? " "How?" replied Amy. "Why, in this way." Then she threw her head slightly back, curved her round, white throat, and, open- ing her mouth, sent forth such a clear, ringing tide of melody, that a bird in the tree over her head flew up with a startled cry. Yet, if it had paused a moment longer, it might have thought that one of its own companions was pouring out those sounds of the woodland stillness. Certainly Amy sang with as little effort as a bird, and Hugh felt that he had never before appreciated the beauty and power of her voice. It had wonder- ful compass as well as exquisite purity, and was flexible as a wind-instrument. The echo-song which she had begun to sing tested this last quality admirably. As her silver notes soared in the long- drawn call, and then sank, the hill-side joined in giving back the soft, dying echo. "Brava!" said an unexpected voice in the rear, and a pair of hands beat en- thusiastically together. Amy and Hugh turned simultaneous- ly, surprised and a little startled. Standing so near, that but for the sing- ing they must have heard his approach, was a stranger, regarding them with a smile a young man, of handsome face and elegant figure. Seeing how much he had startled them, he was the first to speak : "I beg pardon," he said, lifting his hat lightly. " I had no right to express my admiration, but one does not often listen to such a voice. Allow me to say that it is wonderful, and I have heard all the best singers of the day." "Thank you," said Amy. She did not know what else to say, and she blushed very much in saying this. Hugh, on his part, looked at once fierce and awkward. He considered the intru- sion a great impertinence, but being only a "hobbledehoy," as Amy often called him, he did not clearly see how to mani- fest this opinion. "I am afraid I was foolish to let my enthusiasm find expression," the stran- ger went on, with his glance fixed admir- ingly on Amy's face, to which Hugh's wreath was indeed very becoming. "I 8 AFTER MANY DAYS. interrupted you, when, if I had kept quiet, I might have heard another song." " I did not mean to sing any more," answered Amy, who had recovered her self-possession by this time. " Hugh has heard me often enough. He does not care about it." "But /have not heard you often," said that gentleman, " and I should be very grateful for another song. Music is the passion of my life, and I have never heard a finer voice than yours." "Don't sing, Amy!" said Hugh, brusquely. "It is time for us to go home." The intruder gave him an amused and carelessly supercilious glance; then he looked at Amy again, and she thought what very handsome eyes he had ! " I fear," he said, addressing her, " that you may think me a little presum- ing ; but I am one of the most unconven- tional people in the world, and there is nothing I like better than to ignore the starch and buckram of society occasional- ly, and make an acquaintance in a natural, informal manner. As a warrant of my respectability, allow me to say that my name is Marchmont, and I am a cousin and guest of the Lathrops, w'th whom, if you live in Edgerton, you are probably acquainted." " I am not acquainted with them, but I know who they are," answered Amy, always proudly literal in her statements. " They are very rich, fashionable people, while I am the daughter of Mr. Reynolds, the music;teacher. And this is Hugh Dinsmore," she added, with an instinct of courtesy. Mr. Marchmont lifted his hat again, with the air of one who acknowledges an introduction. " I am happy to know you, Miss Reynolds," he said. " Finding Sunday afternoon dull, I sauntered out into the woods, but I did not expect to meet either Flora or Euterpe much less the two in one. May I hope that you will, of your charity, sing another song for me ? " " Amy," said Hugh, again breaking in, " it is certainly time for us to go home." In return for his solicitude, Amy flashed a glance of vexation at him. " It is not time, Hugh, and you know it ! " she said, in an irritated tone. "Did you like the song I sang before ? " she asked, turn- ing to Mr. Marchmont. " Very much," he replied. " Well, I will sing you something bet- ter now," she said, quietly. Then, fold- ing her hands and looking straight up into the blue sky, to his amazement she began the "Cujus animam" from Rossini's " Stabat Mater." Even Hugh forgot his anger as he listened, for it might have been a seraph singing the divine melody instead of the girl who so shortly before had been talking of violet velvet and point- lace. It 'was impossible to connect any earthly association with the pure notes that fell on the ear like "the music of the spheres," and seemed capable of pierc- ing to the very courts of heaven. When the last strain ceased, Amy's eyes drooped for the first time, and then she turned them on Mr. Marchmont. He had unconsciously advanced nearer to her, and his face was absolutely aglow with excitement. " Why, it is divine ! " he cried. "Good heavens! do you know that you have one of the most beautiful voices in the world? " "I am glad that you think so," she answered ; and she looked (Hugh thought) exultant. A starry light streamed into her dark-gray eyes, a vivid flush of color shone on her peach-like cheeks. " Papa has taken a great deal of pains with my voice," she went on, "and he does not like me to sing for people in general ; but, since you said you were cultivated musi- cally which most people in Edgerton are not," she added, candidly, " I thought I would like your opinion 'of my singing. Do you think that I can make a fortune with my voice ? " "I am sure of it," he answered, confi- dently. "No one who heard you could fail to be sure. There is gold, and tri- JEWELS WILL BE BETTER.' nmph, and delight for multitudes in that throat of yours." She made him a pretty little courtesy the girl was lissome and graceful as a bayadere. "Thank you," she said. "And now I will not detain you longer. Hugh, it is time for us to go." " You must let me thank you for the great pleasure you have given me," said Mr. Marchmont, eagerly. "If I have given you pleasure, you have given me encouragement, so you are not all in my debt," she replied. " But you may come to my debut, if you wUl." " I shall certainly be there," he said, smiling. As she moved away, the spray of honeysuckle which had been attached to her wreath behind dropped to the ground, and he stooped for it. " I shall keep this as a souvenir of my pleasant adventure,'" he said, " and on the night of your first triumph I will return it in roses. Thanks again, and au revoir." "This way, Amy. We have to go for the children," said Hugh, impatiently. CHAPTER II. "JEWELS WILL BE BETTER." THEY walked on in silence through the woods for some minutes. Then Amy said: " Why are you so cross, Hugh ? There was no harm in singing for the gentleman." "Yes, there was harm," answered Hugh. "You ought to know better. I am sure your father would not like it if he knew." " Then we won't let him know," said Amy, with that expressive play of coun- tenance which the French call a moue. " Though I don't really think he would care," she added. " Papa is not a drag- on." "But he is a man," said Hugh, who was greatly vexed, " and he knows that a young girl should not sing to every stran- ger who chooses to ask her to do so." "I should not have sung to him if I had not wanted his opinion of my voice," said Amy ; " and I am so glad he praised it. What was it he said? 'gold, tri- umph, the delight of multitudes,' in my throat 1 O Hugh ! I am so happy I could dance and sing for joy ! " She clapped her hands as she spoke, and, making a movement like a ballet- dancer's pirouette, darted forward sever- al paces, and then waltzed back. " For shame on Sunday ! " said Hugh, who had heard numerous admonitions about "the Sabbath-day" in his early youth, and in whose memory the recol- lection of such teaching still lingered. " Where's the harm ? " asked the girl, gayly. " May I not sing as well as the birds, and dance as well as the sunbeams? Pouf! as old Madame Duchesne says. I am going to be rich ; I am going to be ad- mired ; I am going to live. Hugh, did you know I could sing so well ? " " I never had an idea of it, Amy," re- plied Hugh, simply. "And, to tell you the truth," said Amy, stopping short and looking at him, with her face flushed into radiant beauty, "I had no idea of it myself until this evening. Do you know what being in- spired means? I think I was inspired when I sang that ' Cujut animam." 1 Wasn^t it divine ? I felt as if I could do anything in the world with my voice as if I could send it straight up into heaven if I chose. I never had such a sense of power before. I did not think of any- thing while I sang except the delight of uttering such thrilling sounds. Papa never praises my voice, though I know he thinks it very fine ; but when I saw Mr. Marchmont's face and hasn't he splen- did eyes? then I knew that fortune and fame are here " she touched her throat. "And will your father consent to your 10 AFTER MANY DATS. singing in public ? " asked Hugh, his face growing grave. The girl stared at him. " Why, that is what he means me to do!" she said. "That is why he is so careful of my voice cultivating it, but never allowing me to strain it. He would not let me sing in the church-choir, though I have been so anxious to do it ; not that I cared about the choir, but I wanted to test my voice in a large build- ing. I am satisfied now, however. I know that I can fill any theatre in the world." "I suppose I ought to be glad,"' said Hugh, " but I'm not, and I can't help it. I hope you are mistaken I hope your voice is not as good as you think. I should be glad of anything that kept you from going on the stage." This was more than Amy could bear. Her eyes flashed with anger instead of delight, and she fairly stamped her foot. "How dare you! oh, how dare you hope such a cruel thing! " she cried. "I didn't think you could be so mean! When there is but one chance of relief from this horrible life of poverty one chance to free others as well as to escape myself you grudge me that! Hugh, I didn't think you could ! " Hugh felt stricken with remorse, yet unable to retract what he had uttered. " I wish to Heaven I was rich and older ! " he said, with a sigh. "Wishes are of no good," said Amy, with the air of one who had given them a fair trial and found them useless. " But if you were as rich as an emperor, and a hundred years old, you could not keep me from going on the stage. Gold, tri- umph, the delight of multitudes oh, I wish I was going to make my debut to- night ! You should paint my portrait in the costume of the character in which I achieved my first triumph." "Not I," said Hugh, grimly. "I should paint you, with your wreath of wild-flowers, as my Amy not the pub- lic's." "But I am not your Amy, sir," she said, laughing ; and then she began sing- ing again, trilling her birdlike notes for very birdlike joy. The sun was nearly down when they paused a few minutes later on the crest of a hill which they had been gradual- ly ascending. Immediately below lay a green valley, through the midst of which wound a stream " A sedgy brook whereby the red kine meet And wade to drink their fill," and over the fallen tree which made a rustic bridge across this a party of chil- dren were trooping in single file. " There they are ! " said Amy, waving her handkerchief. " What a beautiful scene ! " said Hugh, in the tone of one thrilled suddenly. " Look, Amy look ! " Amy looked in the direction which he indicated, but it is doubtful whether she understood what had stirred him. She, to whom one kind of harmony was so in- telligible, scarcely comprehended the har- mony of another kind which filled the fair landscape, sweeping westward to the golden sky. But to Hugh it was even more divine than the " Cvjus animam." There was a pearly mist over everything like the haze of Indian summer, only it was more deli- cate, and had in it all the buoyancy of spring, the indefinable sense of awaken- ing life of resurrection instead of death. Near at hand the softly-swelling hills and lovely meadows were covered with em- erald; afar the fringe of distant forest melted into azure softness. There were clouds of snowy blossoms in the fields, and every breeze was laden with fra- grance. The sun was sinking behind the mist which near the horizon veiled his glory so that it could be gazed upon fear- lessly. Filmy vapors of rose and gold floated above, and high over these the new moon rode a slender silver boat. " And I shall not see it again for anoth- er week ! " said the boy, in a tone of keen JEWELS WILL BE BETTER.' 11 pain. " Oh, how can people live in the world and think so little of its beauty ! Amy, I could paint that sky. I know I know I could ! " " Just as I know that I could fill an opera-house with my voice," said Amy, arching her throat. " When I am prima donna assoluta, you shall paint as many sunsets as you like, Hugh." "Do you think I would take your money?" asked Hugh, flushing. "We may laugh about such things, but you mustn't believe for a minute that I would really do it." " Then you would be very ungracious," said Amy, indignantly. The embryo quarrel was stopped here by the advent of the children, who came running and laughing up the hill, laden with flowers and blossoming boughs. There were seven of them, ranging in age from fourteen to six years. Four of these were Amy's brothers and sister ; the other three were the children of Mrs. Crenshaw, a kind woman who kept a boarding-house next door to the Rey- noldses, and made no claim to social position. If she had done so, Willie, Fanny, and Hetty Crenshaw would prob- ably have been pacing decorously to Sun- day-school in their best bib and tucker, instead of running wild, like young fawns, in the lovely spring woods with " those Reynolds children." Of the last there were three boys and one girl, besides Amy ; Felix, the eldest of the boys, had been named after Men- delssohn, and justified his name by the precocity of his musical genius. He had played from the time that his tiny fingers could touch the keys, and now, at four- teen, his father a musician himself of rare power declared that he could teach him no more. " He knows as much of the science of harmony as I do," Mr. Rey- nolds would say ; " he will make a great musician, if I can send him to Germany." That if, however, was gigantic. On this April evening, the path by which Felix was to go to Germany had not opened yet. The other two boys, Oliver and Er- nest, were more ordinary ; they, too, pos- sessed in a measure the musical talent of the family, but it was largely dominated by the tastes and habits of common boy- hood. And youngest of all was pretty baby Mariette, with a face like an opening rose-bud, great eyes of turquoise-blue, and a shower of glittering ringlets falling to her waist. It may be imagined how gayly yet, certainly, how harmlessly this group of children laughed and talked as they took their way homeward through the gloam- ing, so tenderly purple, so delightfully fragrant. Amy and Hugh led the pro- cession and a quaint Bohemian pair they were : the future prima donna assoluta was habited in a muslin dress which many washings had very much faded and slight- ly shrunken; her straw hat was swung on her arm like a basket, while Hugh's wreath still crowned her graceful head. So pretty and so shabby was she, that she might be described in general terms as looking like a vagabond Qrffeen of May. Her companion, though not less shabby, was decidedly less picturesque; he was simply an undersized boy, plain of face and awkward of movement, whose clothes, though clean, were much worn and also a little outgrown. So long as they were in the country, these trifles of costume mattered little, and it was only when they approached the outskirts of the town that Amy began to wear that air of defiance which soon comes to social outlaws. The road which they were following left the sweet wildness of the open country and led first between grass-lots and cultivated fields, then by a stone-wall of considerable length, over the top of which evergreens drooped, showing that grounds of large extent and probable beauty lay within. " If I were rich I would not build a wall around my grounds to deprive people of the pleasure of looking at them," said Hugh. AFTER MANY DAYS. " If you were rich you would not care how people who had no grounds felt ahout it," said Amy. " It is to keep us from looking at their lawns and gardens that they huild such walls." "Isn't this where General "Waldron lives?" asked Oliver. "He's the old gentleman who has such a big white mus- tache. I like his looks." "It's a pretty place we can get a glimpse through the gate," said Felix, stopping before this portal, which was of iron. " I see a lawn and part of a foun- tain, and the corner of a greenhouse " " Felix the rest of you, come on ! " cried Amy, sharply. All the small faces which had been pressed against the iron bars turned quick- ly. The reason of Arny's sharpness was at once apparent. An open carriage, drawn by two dark-bay horses, was rapid- ly approaching. " It's the "Waldron carriage ! " said Ernest, darting away. The rest followed hastily, and the dig- nity of their* retreat was further marred by Hetty Crenshaw tripping over a stone, and having to be lifted, dusted, and led away weeping. Amy walked in front with a flushed face. She would have scorned to peep through the Waldron gate herself, but she felt compromised by the conduct of her cohort ; and when a head, adorned by the hat of which she had spoken admiringly, nodded more kindly than patronizingly from the carriage, she responded with a salutation stiff enough to have rebuked aspiring presumption rather than ac- knowledge superior condescension. " What an extraordinary-looking cav- alcade ! " said another lady, putting up an eye-glass. "For mercy's sake, who are they? Oh, the Keynolds children! I hope they haven't been rifling your flower-garden." "Hardly," Miss Waldron laughed. " All those spoils came from the woods. Did you notice how pretty Amy looked with that wreath of flowers on her head ? " " I thought she looked very peculiar, but I didn't notice exactly what was the matter. What a theatrical idea, to walk through the streets decked in such fashion on Sunday evening, too ! " The carriage rolled in, the gates clashed together, and the Reynolds chil- dren dropped from the conversation and minds of its occupants. "That was Miss Lathrop with Miss Waldron," said Hugh; and Amy an- swered, "Was it? I did not observe." No doubt there were numbers of other people to echo Miss Lathrop's opinion with regard to Amy's appearance, before she reached home. She passed group after group of well-dressed, Sunday-man- nered folk, with the defiant expression deepening somewhat on her face, but no other token of heeding their curious glances. Yet the uncharitable only said, "There go those outlandish Reynolds children ! " while the kindly remarked with a sigh, " How that poor girl needs a mother ! " When that girl thus commiserated reached the house where the Reynoldses as a family lived or, to speak more cor- rectly, where they scrambled through existence in a.hap-hazard manner she walked into a small low-ceiled parlor, which held but one prominent article of furniture, and that a piano. At this pi- ano a gaunt man, with hair and beard dashed with gray, a sharp nose, and a pair of pathetic eyes, sat playing a strain from one of Mozart's masses with a touch that brought out all the divine melody lurking in the harmony. He nodded and smiled when the children came in, but did not cease playing. Felix walked for- ward and slipped his arm round his neck. He was his father's pride and favorite, and had as many caressing ways as a girl. " You ought to have come with us, papa," he said. " The country is so love- ly now. A walk would have helped you to rest." " I walk enough on six daysj" an- swered Mr. Reynolds ; "on the seventh "'TIS BUT A LITTLE FADED FLOWER.' 13 I like to stay quietly with the piano. But you have brought back flowers enough, my boy." "Yes; see, papa, how pretty and sweet ! " cried the others, thronging round. Meanwhile Amy went up to a small mirror that held the last glow of sunset light in its depth, and looked at her re- flection the color-flushed cheeks, the dark-gray eyes shining under long lashes, the rich masses of curling hair, and the wreath of wild-flowers crowning the fair picture. Then she turned to Hugh with a smile that broke up all the gravity of her face. " The wreath is very becoming," she said, " and you have crowned me for vic- tory. But jewels will be better than flowers." CHAPTER III. "'TIS BUT A LITTLE FADED FLOWED." AMY had been right in characterizing the Lathrops as "very rich and fashion- able people " according to the standard of riches and fashion in Edgerton. They lived in a handsome house, with appoint- ments every way suggestive of wealth, were gay and hospitable, and therefore popular. Mr. Lathrop and his sons were "in business" on a large scale. Mrs. Lathrop and her daughters were also in business, if the duty of leading society could properly come under that head. That it is very often far more of a busi- ness than a pleasure, no one can doubt who has ever had the opportunity of ob- serving at close quarters the life of a fash- ionable woman. But to some natures there is a compensation for all attendant labor and cost in the mere possession of a power; and that Mrs. Lathrop was one of these people, was patent to the dullest perception. In all details of life she was what is generally known as "a managing wom- an." Her household was organized like a police force ; yet her rule was never oppressive, for she knew exactly where authority ended and tyranny began. Al- ways suave, somewhat diplomatic, with a fine presence and a pair of large, white hands capable of holding the threads of many different interests, she was emi- nently fitted to administer the social af- fairs of Edgerton and preserve society from the chaos which always attends the want of a recognized leader. Her daughters gave promise of follow- ing the maternal footsteps. Two were in society not at all pretty, but noted for their style, and, from their position, always sure of receiving as much atten- tion as if they had been beauties. A younger daughter was not yet emanci- pated from the school-room. One of the two sons had taken unto himself a wife, with the hearty approval of his parents, since the lady who was not an Edger- tonian was the fortunate possessor of a considerable fortune in her own right. " If Edward will only marry as judi- ciously as Paul, I shall be truly grateful to Providence," said Mrs. Lathrop, devoutly. But Edward, the younger son, was rather given to flirting with portionless girls, and sometimes disturbed his mother's equanimity by declaring that he thought it his duty to bring a pretty wife into the family, since Paul had married one whose personal appearance no man could con- scientiously commend. Of Mr. Lathrop, the head of the household, there is little to be said fur- ther than that he was his wife's most loyal admirer, and, though in no sense a hen- pecked husband, her opinion had more weight with him than that of any one else. In business matters he was keen, shrewd, and inclined to be hard, though always just. Socially he was genial, fond of display, and lavish with the means necessary to this end. Seen in his own house, a more agreeable host notwith- standing the drawback of a little pom- posity never wore a white waistcoat, 14 AFTER MANY DAYS. or boasted one of those bald, glistening heads which impart such a benevolent aspect to the countenance. Under the shelter of the Lathrop roof Mr. Brian Marchmont, nephew of Mrs. Lathrop, had been sojourning nearly a week, on that Sunday afternoon when he met Amy Keynolds in the April woods. This young gentleman was one of those who have the reputation of "brilliant abilities," and there was a vague, general expectation in the minds of all who knew him that he would one day greatly dis- tinguish himself. Of the abilities there could be no question, and the expectation of distinction was stronger in the mind of Marchmont himself than in that of any one else. He was ambitious, and had already decided by what steps he would mount to the height he desired. They were not to be very difficult steps, for there was an element of epicureanism in the young man's character which, under certain circumstances, might mar his plan of life. He had no fear of such an event, however. If belief in one's own power is a first necessity for achieving worldly success, Marchmont was ready with that requisite. He had so far in life vaulted lightly over all obstacles, and lifted his head so high above the heads of those surrounding him, that he could scarcely be blamed for self-confidence. At the present time the errand on which he had come to Edgerton was well known. In the city where he lived he had, during the past winter, met Miss "Waldron, the only child and heiress of her father, a man of large wealth. "With Marchmont, as with a great many other aspiring men, the first step which he pro- posed to himself on his journey to the Temple of Fame was the step of marrying a fortune. "I have, comparatively speaking, no money, and if I waste my life in working for that, it will be too late after I have gained it to devote my higher powers to the objects I propose ; so it follows that I must marry a rich woman ! " This was what he said to himself, and to the few friends who were admitted to intimacy with him. These friends, one and all, applauded his resolution. It is well known, however, that the seekers after rich women are, in point of number, altogether out of proportion to those de- sirable objects, so that unless a man has unusual advantages of person or manner, his chance of drawing a prize is exceed- ingly small. These advantages Brian Marchmont possessed. No one could deny that he was well-born, well-bred, and above the ordinary rank and file of mankind in point of appearance. Although his aunt, Mrs. Lathrop, was in a measure attached to him, and cer- tainly proud of the abilities which he was supposed to possess, she would have wel- comed him more cordially if he had come to Edgerton for any other purpose than the one which brought him. Not that she did not consider his object a good and altogether praiseworthy one ; but it had been her cherished plan that her son should marry Miss "Waldron, and though she was too sensible a woman not to recognize that all overtures to this end had been unmistakably rebuffed by the young lady, she had, nevertheless, a sore feeling in seeing the prize grasped be- fore her eyes by the hand of her own nephew. It was true, the prize had not yet been grasped ; but that Marchmont's chance of success was better than that of any other suitor of the heiress, all who knew any- thing about the matter were agreed. On the Sunday evening already re- corded, Mr. Marchmont made his appear- ance at the Lathrop tea-table just as the church-bells were pealing out over the town on the soft, flower-scented dusk. " Why, Brian, we have been wonder- ing what had become of you," said Mr. Lathrop, looking up. " What have you been doing with yourself all the after- noon?" " I saw you asleep in the hammock after dinner," said Edward Lathrop ; TI3 BUT A LITTLE FADED FLOWER." 15 " but when I looked into it an hour or so later, you had vanished." " I felt an inclination to take a stroll," said Marchmont; "therefore I left the hammock and wandered off. The woods are so delightful that I rambled farther than I intended, lost my way, and hence my late appearance." " You don't know what you missed by strolling off! " cried Florence, the second daughter. " Beatrix Waldron has been here this afternoon, and Anna has gone home with her." " She would hardly have been likely to take me instead of Anna would she ? " asked Marchmont, quietly. " Hardly ; but I thought it would grieve you to miss one glimpse of your divinity." " And so you gave me the afflicting intelligence at once. Thanks for the con- sideration but I don't find my appetite impaired. Eunice, my dear, may I ask what attracts your attention ? " Eunice, a pale little maiden of fifteen, who sat opposite him, blushed, and point- ed to his button-hole. " I was looking at that spray of crim- son honeysuckle, Cousin Brian," she an- swered. "It is pretty. Where did you get it ? " "I found it in the woods," he replied. " Is it uncommon? Then, have it, pray." He tossed it lightly across the table, and Eunice smiled her thanks. " I have not seen any in a long time," she said. " I would get some and plant it in the garden if I knew where to find it." But her cousin did not volunteer to show her where it was to be found. He glanced round the table, and, seeing that every one else had ceased eating, he said : "I beg that you will not let me detain you, Aunt Caroline. I should not have been such a late-comer if I had remem- bered that your hour was probably early on Sunday." "In order to allow the servants, as well as ourselves, to go to church," said Mrs. Lathrop. ""We are a little later than usual on account of having waited some time for you, and, since you are kind enough to excuse us, I think it would be better, Florence, if we put on our bonnets at once." Florence rose, and, with a rustle of silk, the ladies left the room. Marchmont looked at Edward Lathrop, and said, gravely : "Do you go to church twice a day, Ned?" " Not unless there is some very partic- ular inducement," answered that gentle- man, " and not even then when the ther- mometer stands above seventy-five de- grees. I simply escort my mother and the girls to the church-door. That is what we will do to-night, if you have no objection, after which we will come back and smoke a cigar in peace and coolness." A few minutes later Mrs. Lathrop and her daughter entered the drawing-room, whither the gentlemen had adjourned. Both were dressed beautifully, and the elder lady was buttoning her gloves. "Eunice has a headache, so I have al- lowed her to remain at home," she said. "Are you coming with us, my dear? " "Not to-night, my dear," said Mr. Lathrop. He always said, " Not to-night," as if he might be tempted to go on some future night ; but, so far, that occasion had not arrived, and Mrs. Lathrop was wise, and never asked when it would arrive. The young men escorted the ladies to the church-door, but declined an invita- tion to enter the edifice, where vivid gas- light streamed on crimson-carpeted aisles and crimson-cushioned seats. Then they strolled slowly back through the semi- darkness of the streets, past gardens from which the fragrance of roses and syringa, jasmine and honeysuckle, filled the air. "This is rather better than blinding gaslight and simmering heat," said Ed- ward Lathrop, as they regained the house which they had left so shortly before. " Shall we sit on the piazza, and take a 16 AFTER MANY DAYS. smoke ? My father and Eunice seem to be very well entertained." Marchmont glanced through the draw- ing-room window, and smiled at the scene within. Mr. Lathrop, leaning back in a large chair, with a newspaper open on his knee, was dozing placidly, the light from the chandelier falling with brilliant effect on the bald top of his head; while, at the farther end of the apartment, Eunice was seated at the large, carved piano, playing a simple accompaniment as she sang, in a childish voice, "There is a land of pure delight." From the force of contrast, the -voice and song reminded Marchmont of the sil- ver tones that he had heard soar aloft in " Cujus animam " so short a time be- fore. " That girl could not have been much older than Eunice," he thought, as he dropped the lace curtain and returned to his companion. " Do you know anybody of the name of Eeynolds in Edgerton, Ned ? " he asked, after they were settled in their chairs with lighted cigars. " I know Eunice's music-teacher," an- swered LathrCp. "Do you mean him? a gaunt fellow, who plays the organ in the church we left a minute ago." " I thought there was an uncommon hand on that organ this morning," said Marchmont. "And does his daughter sing there?" "His daughter pretty little Amy ? I don't think so. But how do you chance to know anything about her? " Marchmont laughed. "I met her this afternoon in the woods," he said. " It was an odd kind of adventure, and I did not mention it to my aunt, because I fancy she does not approve of unconventional ways and people." "You might stake a good deal on that without much fear of losing," said Lathrop; "and I don't think she has a very good opinion of pretty Amy either." "Why not?" "If you have seen the girl, you might tell why not. The madre is great on making people walk a chalk -line, accord- ing to their station in life, which Amy who is an out-and-out little Bohemian, and wild as a gypsy will on no account think of doing. They have had one or two encounters one was on the subject of attending Sunday-school, I believe and Amy always came off with flying col- ors. Hence she is regarded in the light of a most reprehensible young person, you understand. But she is amazingly pretty and piquant as pretty." " Yes, she is very pretty," assented Marchmont at that moment he seemed to see again the winsome face with its wild-flower crown "but she has some- thing better than her face. Do you know that she sings like an angel pshaw ! what do we know about angels ? like a prima donna? " " Not I," and it was very evident, even in the dim light, that Lathrop stared. "How the deuce did you find it out? You must have progressed in your ac- quaintance very rapidly if you never saw her before this afternoon." "I never saw her before this after- noon, and I came upon her most unex- pectedly then. It was out in the woods she was sitting in a glen with no other companion than an awkward boy, singing a Tyrolean echo-song which I have often heard on the stage, but never better ren- dered. You may be sure I was aston- ished, and I could not help encoring when the song ended. She was somewhat em- barrassed at first, but, when I introduced myself, she was good enough to say she knew who the Lathrops were, and then she sang the ' Cujus animam ' from Ros- sini's ' Stabat Mater,' and sang it divinely ! She has not only one of the finest voices I ever heard, but it has been remarkably well cultivated." " Reynolds is an excellent musician," said Lathrop ; " at least, he has that rep- utation. I don't know much about such things myself. And so little Amy said "ALTOGETHER AN ACCIDENT." 17 that 'she knew who the Lathrops were? ' Upon my honor, that's the best joke I've heard in an age ! I don't really think I can keep it from the madre! " " It's no joke at all," said Marchmont, " and I hope yon won't think of trying to make one out of it. The girl meant no impertinence. She said, quite proudly : 4 They are very rich, fashionable people, and I am the daughter of Mr. Eeynolds, the music-teacher.' She's an amusing lit- tle witch. By-the-by, have you any idea who was the boy with her? She men- tioned his name, but I have forgotten it." "I have not the least idea," replied Lathrop. 4 ' My acquaintance with her is of the slightest possible description, and her friends are quite unknown to me. Eeynolds has several sons. It was prob- ably one of them." Marchmont knew better, but he said no more of Amy or her companion. Per- haps the subject dropped from Ms thoughts. Certainly when he spoke again it was of something very different; and so they talked and smoked until the gate at the foot of the lawn opened and closed, and voices and steps approached the house. "There come my mother and Flor- ence, with somebody in attendance," said Lathrop, rising. The somebody proved to be a young man of smooth face and immaculate dress, who was thought to have evangelical lean- ings, and known to entertain matrimo- nial intentions toward the second Miss Lathrop. This young lady had no objection to a mild flirtation after having performed her duty by going to church in the most exemplary manner; so she retired with her captive to the end of the drawing- room, while Eunice was at once dis- patched by her mother to bed. " Close the piano, Edward," she add- ed. "It is very injurious to an instru- ment to stand open." Edward sauntered obediently to the piano and closed it. Then he returned, 2 holding in his fingers the faded spray of honeysuckle which had already changed owners twice. " I believe this is yours, Brian," he said, extending it with a smile to his cous- in. " Eunice left it by the keyboard, but I thought I would bring it to you, since you might like to preserve- it." Marchmont took the spray and tossed it carelessly into the empty fireplace. "Faded flowers are useless things," he said. " When they have served their purpose, the only thing to do is to throw them away." CHAPTER IV. 44 ALTOGETIIEH AX ACCIDENT." "I AM going to drive to Cedarwood for Anna this morning, Brian. Will you come with me? " It was Florence Lathrop who said this, pausing in the hall the next day, af- ter breakfast. Her cousin, who was in the act of lighting a cigar, looked up at once. 44 Certainly I will, with pleasure," he replied. " When do you mean to start? " 4 'In an hour or two not before. They never breakfast early at Cedarwood. There are no business-men there!" 41 It is too bad that there should be some here to rouse you for anything so barbarous as a nine-o'clock breakfast," said her brother. " If you are not going for an hour or two, you can call for Brian at the commission-house. He is going to walk down-town with me." " Very well," replied the young lady, sailing languidly up-etairs. Mr. Lathrop emerged from the break- fast-room at the moment, drew on his gloves, exchanged his benevolent air for a decided one, and said, " We are ten min- utes behind time," and walked quickly out of the front-door. The younger men followed, and the three took their way together into the 18 AFTER MANY DAYS. business portion of the town, filling the fresh air, as they walked, with the triple smoke of their cigars. " Lathrop & Sons " were engaged in a large wholesale commission business; and as the two members of the firm, ac- companied by their idle relative, entered the great, dingy warehouse, filled with bales of cotton, hogsheads of tobacco, grain, and other products, it chanced that the first person they met was an under- sized boy of seventeen or eighteen, whose face had an oddly familiar look to March- mont, though for a moment he was puz- zled to think when or where he had seen it. " Dinsmore, I shall want you in a min- ute," said Mr. Lathrop, in his most brisk tones. " Come to the counting-room." Dinsmore ! Marchmont said nothing, but he thought to himself that this was the awkward boy who had been Amy Keynolds's companion on the afternoon before, and who had glared at him with such amusing indignation. For that mat- ter, his eyes had by no means an amiable expression now, as they rested an in- stant on the well-dressed young gentle- man, before he turned and followed Mr. Lathrop. An hour or two later, Marchmont was reading the morning papers in his cous- in's counting-room when one of the clerks appeared with the intelligence that Miss Lathrop was at the door waiting for him. He rose with alacrity. Something in the nature of his surroundings oppressed him with a sense of weight and repug- nance. " How can you muster philosophy enough to think of spending the best part of your life in such a place as this ? " he could not refrain from saying to Edward Lathrop ; but the latter only laughed. "The prospect does not overwhelm me," he said, "though I grant you it would be pleasanter to live at Cedarwood on ten thousand a year. But everybody isn't a Prince Charming, or a Prince For- tunate either." This good-natured sarcasm effectually silenced Marchmont. He knew that if there had been the faintest chance of se- curing Miss Waldron and Cedarwood, his cousin would have grasped that chance as eagerly as himself; but, nevertheless, he could not help feeling that the labor which was so distasteful to his fastidious, pleasure-loving nature, was, to say the least, far more honorable than the gentle- manly profession of fortune-hunting. These uncomfortable feelings were evanescent, however. It was with a sense of relief that he emerged into the sunshine and entered the waiting carriage, where Miss Lathrop sat with a handker- chief at her nose ; for there were several tons of fertilizers in the neighborhood, the odor of which was strikingly unlike that of Araby the Blest. " What a disagreeable part of the town this is! " she said. "I always dislike to come down here ; and how papa and the boys can be content to spend their days in that horrid place, I don't understand." It occurred to Marchmont that this was rather ungracious on the part of one whose carriage and horses, silk dress and lace-covered parasol, were all the direct proceeds of the "horrid place" in ques- tion; but he only said, "It strikes me rather in that light, but I suppose I am one of the drones of the world and you know they are not a very estimable class." "But you don't mean to be always a drone," said she, smiling; for they had left the fertilizers behind, and she was now able to smile again. Marchmont thought this very true. He did not mean to be always a drone. On the contrary, he meant to do work more important as well as more agreeable than selling cotton and tobacco on com- mission. He did not remember that such an idea is one of the most common and shallow devices of self-love. There are few of us who do not excuse our present shortcomings by reflecting on the great things which we mean to do in the future ; ALTOGETHER AN ACCIDENT.' until the future has become the past, when we think what great things we might have done had circumstances only been more favorable Fate kinder, the world more appreciative. Neither of these two butterflies of prosperity felt inclined to complain of Fate or the world this morning, however. The carriage rolled as if on velvet, the wheels and harness glittered in the sun- shine, the glory of spring was all about them, birds were singing in the delicate leafage of the trees, flowers were bloom- ing in all directions, windows were open, light costumes were out in force. Miss Lathrop, who was bowing now and then from under her parasol to passing ac- quaintances, suddenly said, with the air of one whom a sudden recollection strikes : " Andrew " (to the. coachman), " drive to Mrs. Orenshaw's boarding-house. Bri- an, will you excuse me if I detain you for a few minutes ? Mamma asked me to call and see how a sick lady, who is boarding there, is to-day. She is a stranger in Ed- gerton, but belongs to quite nice people, so, of course, we are anxious to pay her every attention." " A modern rendition of the good Sa- maritan," said Brian, smiling. " My time is at your disposal altogether ; don't hesi- tate to detain me as long as you like. I could be happy on the door-step to-day, basking like a Neapolitan in the sun- shine." The carriage, as he spoke, turned into a street where the buildings, though re- spectable, were by no means imposing, but where there were many shade-trees and a few good residences. The largest of these was a house which opened on the street, and had a neglected flower-garden at the side. Here the carriage stopped, and Marchmont, springing out, assisted his cousin to alight. Then, having rung the door-bell and seen her admitted, he re- turned to the pavement and sauntered under the flickering shade of the elms by the low garden-fence. However neglected, all gardens in which there are flowers must be pretty in April, and this garden was no exception to the rule. The syringa-bushes were covered with white, fragrant blossoms ; bees were humming over the honey- suckle ; there was a large bed where lil- ies-of-the-valley lifted their delicate white bells amid broad green leaves; and the untrimmed rose-bushes were full of blos- soms. Bordering the fence, and on a level with it, was a luxuriant Enonymus hedge, from the other side of which Marchmont heard the voices of two invisible and prob- ably liliputian personages. "The flowers won't stay on, Hetty," said one. " You go and ask your mother for some more string." "Mother said I mustn't come and bother her any more," answered another small but positive voice. " You go and ask Mr. Trafford for some." "Mr. Trafford's gone to walk I saw him go," said Number One. "But I'll go and ask Clara for some." "Be sure and make haste back," said Number Two. Following this came the patter of small feet, a gate in the fence suddenly swung open, and a child of not more than seven years, with a glittering mane of yellow curls, sprang out on the sidewalk. Her companion's voice followed her, saying : " Shut the gate, Mariette, or the pigs will get in." Mariette, who was darting away with- out this necessary precaution, turned back, but Marchmont closed the gate, and then said, with a smile : " Are you Alice from Wonderland ? You look like her." " No, I'm not ; but I know all about her," she answered, quickly, breaking in- to a laugh, and gazing up at him with fearless eyes of myosotis blue. " Mr. Trafford gave mo the book she went to "Wonderland, and through the looking- glass, too." " Did she ?" said Marchmont. " I never AFTER MANY DAYS. followed her that far. But are you cer- tain you are not she ? " " Oh, yes," she replied, with another laugh. " I am Mariette Reynolds." " Reynolds ! " repeated Marchmont. He did not say to himself, " C'est la fata- lite" but he certainly thought that Fate, or something else, was determined to keep the pretty songstress of the woods in his mind. "Have you a sister named Amy, and does she sing? " he went on, after a moment, as they walked along side by side. " Of course I have," answered Mari- ette, surprised that any one should ask such a question. " Do you know my sister Amy? Mr. Trafford says she sings like a I've forgotten the name exactly, but some kind of a bird." "Who the deuce is Mr. Trafford?" Marchmont felt inclined to ask, but he restrained himself, and only said: "I am afraid that your sister Amy would not allow me to say that I know her, but I have heard her sing. "Where do you live?" " Here," said Mariette, indicating a house adjoining the garden which they were passing. It was a small, old-fashioned dwelling, opening immediately on the street, with high, narrow windows, and a generally shabby and uncomfortable aspect. It spoke so plainly of poverty that poverty which manages to keep bread-and-butter on its table, but has not a sixpence to spare for the adorning graces of life that Marchmont's fastidious epicurean- ism felt a thrill of much the same disgust which he had experienced in the ware- house of Lathrop & Sons. His interest in the embryo prima donna began to abate, but nevertheless he walked on by Mariette's side, thinking that he would turn as soon as he reached the door of the house and saw the little maiden within it. But, if not fatality, what was it that brought Amy to the window of the little parlor, and framed the piquant loveliness of her face between the chintz curtains, to startle Marchmont, like a gleam of rich color in a gray landscape ? He stopped short, with an exclama- tion, and lifted his hat. " Miss Reynolds ! " he said. " How fortunate I am ! I did not hope to meet you again so soon ! " Amy was not much surprised a fact which was very natural, since the win- dows on the side of the house command- ed an excellent view of Mrs. Crenshaw's garden and the street along which March- mont had been sauntering. She had been engaged in dusting, with a towel tied round her head, when she first saw him, and she had flushed rose- red, cast the towel into a dark corner, darted to the small mirror, given a few hurried touches to her hair which was always ready to curl, and never prettier than when left to its own devices and then established herself at the window, with an open music-book in her lap. At his salutation the long laches lifted from her mischievous gray eyes. " O Mr. Marchmont! " she said, with a slight start. "How do you do this morning? and where did you find Mari- ette?" "Mariette found me" he replied, "in a very badly-bored condition, dawdling along the street yonder. I am waiting for my cousin, who has gone into the house of your neighbor to pay a visit." " Ah ! " said Amy. " I was wonder- ing what could have brought you into this part of the town." " My presence here is altogether an accident," he said; "but within the last two minutes it has begun to assume the appearance of a very lucky accident. I dreamed of sirens all last night, and you can tell, I am sure, who was to blame for that," " How can 1 tell ? " asked Amy, inno- cently. " Perhaps you went to church, and the choir " He interrupted her by a laugh. " Pray don't be so severe on the sirens "ALTOGETHER AN ACCIDENT.' 21 as to liken them or to suppose that / would liken them to any well-inten- tioned band of amateur squallers. Be- sides, you know better you know that sirens don't sing in village choirs, but they are to be met sometimes in wooded glens on April afternoons." " Happy sirens ! " said Amy. with a soft little sigh. " They knew their songs intuitively, and were never obliged to learn to sing by notei How I hate notes ! " she added, glancing down at the page of score in her lap. "Drudgery is always disagreeable," said Marchmont and lie glanced down at the score also " but especially when connected with harmony. What have you there ? " "A song papa has just given me to learn. When he gives me a song for the first time, he always locks the piano, so that I have no opportunity to learn the notes by the keys. Then I have to sing it for him, and then he teaches me how to sing it." " All of which is very essential to pre- pare the foundation of your future great ness," said the listener, smiling. " And ' have you sung the song yet for papa ? " " Not yet, but I must to-night.'' " I suppose I dare not be bold enough to ask you to sing it for me now ? " " What, here ? " The gray eyes opened to their widest extent, while the pretty lips laughed. " That is impossible ; every- body along the street would hear and see me ! " " But, if you were hospitable enough to allow me to come in " "You are not in earnest," she said. "How could you tell when your cousin finished paying her visit, if you came in to hear me sing? " " That is very true," he replied ; " at present it is unfortunately impossible for me to have that pleasure ; but if I return this afternoon, will you admit me then, and let me hear your lesson before Mon- sieur votre pere does so ? " Amy hesitated. The prospect was al- luring how alluring, those of older years and different rearing can scarcely un- derstand but an instinct of propriety warned even this " out-and-out Bohe- mian," as Edward Lathrop called her, against it. Seeing her hesitation, March- mont would not have been a man if he had not instantly conceived an added de- sire to carry his point. " You did me the honor to remark, yesterday afternoon, that you sang for me because I seemed to be musically cul- tivated," he said " will not the same reason plead for me now? My culture is not very great, so far as any personal acquirement is concerned, but I have heard all the best singers of the day, and I can give you a few needful hints, perhaps, with regard to your method." " Have you ever heard any one sing this?" she asked, holding the score tow- ard him. " Certainly I have," he answered, glancing at it (and whether the assent was strictly true or not, Mr. March- mont's conscience alone could tell) ; " I heard Carlotta Patti sing it at a concert in" He paused abruptly, not because his memory or his invention failed, but be- cause at that moment Miss Florence La- throp's gray silk dress and lace-covered parasol appeared on the steps of the Cren- shaw house. " I see my cousin has come out, and I must not detain her," he said. " I will call this afternoon at four, shall I say? and I trust you will not refuse me ad- mittance." He lifted his hat, gave one last glance out of the eyes which Amy admired, and walked away. Miss Lathrop, who, like her sister, was a little near-sighted, per- ceived him first as he was advancing along the sidewalk by the garden-fence. "I am afraid your patience has been quite exhausted, Brian," she said, when he approached and handed her into the car- riage. "Mrs. Ripley poor woman! is very unwell this morning, and she kept AFTER MANY DAYS. me a long time listening to a detailed ac- count of all that she suffers. One should be patient with that habit of invalids, I suppose. It is all the pleasure they have. Drive to Cedarwood, now, Andrew." CHAPTER V. THE HEIBESS OF CEDAEWOOD. WHEN the carriage rolled into the gates through which the Reynolds chil- dren gazed so wistfully the evening be- fore, its occupants saw two feminine ligures, escorted by a masculine one, crossing the lawn toward the house. This house was a large, handsome building, in what architectural books call the "Norman villa" style, evidently of late erection, and containing all modern improvements and conveniences. The cedars, from which its name was derived, stood in a group on the close-shorn lawn, immediately in front of the drawing-room windows three splendid patriarchs, un der the shade of which a rustic seat was placed. The grounds were of great' ex- tent, and, on this April morning, full of the brightest beauty of the spring. "Yonder are Anna and Beatrix and General ^Waldron," said Miss Lathrop, elevating one of those glasses which the French call a pince-nez, and regarding the three figures. "No doubt the general has been showing some of his landscape- gardening. He is always having trees moved, or hedges set out, or something of the kind done. It is a great bore to be taken to see them." " Why has General Waldron been al- lowed to remain unmarried so long ? " asked Marchmont, looking at that gen- tleman, who, with his erect figure and strongly-marked face, was manifestly a grand seigneur, though he wore a loose linen coat and a broad palmetto hat. " I am surprised that no kind lady has taken compassion on his widowed condition." Miss Lathrop laughed. " It would be impossible to enumerate the number of ladies who have desired to console him," she said ; "but he has so stoutly declined to be consoled, that they have at last aban- doned him in despair. Good-morning ! " she added, bowing to the group of pedes- trians whom they were now approaching. "I see that the charming day has drawn you all out to enjoy it." "Yes," said the general, lifting his broad hat with the air of a cavalier ; " I have just taken Miss Lathrop and my daughter to see some improvements which I have made in the grounds. Are you interested in landscape-gardening, Mr. Marchmont ? " " Very much, indeed," answered Marchmont, promptly. The carriage had by this time drawn up before the portico, which was the principal entrance to the house, and he was assisting his cousin to the ground as he spoke. When he turned, Miss Waldron shook her parasol at him. " Take care ! " she said ; " if you tell papa that, he will carry you off at once to see his improvements." "I should enjoy seeing them," March- mont replied, readily ; for at that moment he saw his way clearly to a clever finesse. " Come, then," said the general, greatly pleased. "We'll walk down and look at them at once. Miss Florence, can we not tempt you to accompany us ? " This invitation Miss Florence graceful- ly but decidedly declined. Not regard- ing General Waldron in the light of a possible father-in-law, she saw no neces- sity as she afterward remarked to her sister for tanning her complexion by walking over the grounds with him. "And I am sorry, Brian," she added, "but it will be impossible for us to wait for you long ; both Anna and myself have a positive engagement in Edgerton." "Don't think of waiting for me at all," responded her cousin, calmly; "I should prefer to walk. As I remarked to you some time ago, on such a day as this one cannot have too much of sunshine." THE HEIRESS OF CEDARWOOD. More than an hour elapsed before the general and his willing victim returned ; by that time the Lathrop equipage had vanished, and when Mr. Marchmont, in a somewhat heated and very tired condition, made his appearance in the drawing-room, he found Miss "Waldron alone. The large, cool apartment, so darkly toned, so fra- grant with flowers, so free from glare of any kind, was in itself refreshing; and it was still more refreshing to be met by a handsome woman, with amused yet sin- cere compassion. " I have been really uneasy about you, Mr. Marchmont," she said, smiling. " When papa mounts his hobby, he is apt to be a little inconsiderate ; and he kept you so long, I began to fear lest you might have fallen by the wayside with a sunstroke. Pray take this chair, which for comfort I can recommend, and let me give you a fan." " How delightfully kind you are ! " said Marchmont, accepting both the chair and the fan. " Pardon me if I say that I have, indeed, had a most fatiguing time. After inspecting the landscape-gardening, I was taken to see an imported Devon bull, which glared in a manner unpleas- antly suggestive of tossing ; then to a bottom which has been recently drained and put under cultivation on the most scientific principles; then to a new or- chard, and finally to a model dairy." . Miss "Waldron laughed again. " How unconscionable of papa ! " she said. " And your cousins have gone, too ! I am afraid your visit to Cedarwood this morning does not strike you in the light of a success." "On the contrary, it strikes me very much in that light mow," responded Marchmont. "I am glad that my cousins are gone I meant them to go ; else, per- haps, your father might not have found me so deeply interested in meadow-lands and dairies." "For shame!" said Miss "Waldron, but the color deepened on her cheek, the smile on her lip, as she spoke. Seen thus, she was a very handsome woman, this heiress of Cedarwood. A stately, mature-looking woman for her years she was only twenty-four on her last birthday but with nothing hard or arrogant in manner or appearance. She was invariably self-possessed, and, per- haps, a trifle too decided in speech and bearing ; but these things followed, as matters of course, from her tempera- ment, as well as from her position in life. In figure she was tall, with a more com- manding than graceful presence, though no one could accuse her of absolutely lacking the latter attribute. Her face was clear-cut as a cameo, and indicated an excellent mind, without intellectual brilliancy, and a generous, upright nature, impatient of shams, scorning deception. Under the broad, benignant brow were set a pair of dark eyes often full of satir- ical light; the nose was large, but not heavy, with delicate, arched nostrils; while the mouth was altogether sweet and womanly, with that dark down on the upper lip which is so common on French and Spanish feminine faces. Miss "Waldron had neither French nor Spanish blood, but she was a brunette of the most pronounced type ; and her color, when it came, was the rich pomegranate flush of the Southern skies. This color was glowing in her cheeks now, and giving lustre to her eyes. She was most becomingly dressed, and, as she leaned back in a large, luxurious chair, with the rich room stretching away in the dim background behind her, March- mont's aesthetic tastes were thoroughly gratified. This was what he liked beauty adorned by art in the highest possible degree, and the manner of a thorough woman of the world. There could be no doubt that Beatrix Waldron would grace worthily any posi- tion to which she might be exalted which, was a very essential point to a man at once so ambitious and so fastidious. No degree of wealth could have tempted him to marry an underbred woman, and AFTER MANY DAYS. the necessity must have been very great which could have induced him to think of marrying a plain one. " You will remain to luncheon, of course," Miss "Waldron went on, "and afterward papa will take pleasure, I am sure, in driving you into Edgerton." " I will remain to luncheon very will- ingly," Marchmont replied, "but you must allow me to decline being driven into Edgerton. I was quite sincere in telling Florence that I prefer the walk especially if I take a short cut through the fields which your father was kind enough to show me." " It is a route which all our friends take when they come to see us on foot," said the heiress, " and, unless I am mis- taken, yonder is one coming now." Marchmont turned Ms head to look out of the window through which she was gazing, and, greatly to his disgust, perceived a man approaching the house, who, from the direction in which he came, had plainly crossed the fields. "It is Mr. Archer, I think," said Miss "Waldron. " Do you know him ? I sup- pose not," as Marchmont uttered a neg- ative. "He is a hard-working young lawyer, who goes into society very little. Papa thinks highly of his ability, and has trusted a great deal of business to him. Probably he has come on some matter re- lating to it now." " Then he will not disturb us," said Marchmont, in a tone of relief. " Are you so comfortable ? " asked Miss "Waldron. " I am sorry that you must be disturbed in any event, for here comes my little page to say that luncheon is ready. Go and find your master, Rex. We need not wait, Mr. Marchmont ; papa is in the library, no doubt." She rose, and while Marchmont and herself crossed the drawing-room, the little page of whom she spoke a mulatto boy dressed in livery darted to the li- brary. So it chanced that, when they reached the hall, they found the gentle- man who had been seen from the window standing in the open door, waiting the appearance of a servant. Miss Waldron greeted him very gra- ciously : "Good-morning, Mr. Archer. You are just in time for luncheon. Come with us, pray. Let me introduce Mr. March- mont." Mr. Archer acknowledged the intro- duction, and then said : " Thank you, Miss Waldron, but I will not come in. I only want to seethe gen- eral a few minutes on business, and " " Business always comes better after the inner man has been refreshed," said the general's voice in the rear. " Non- sense, man ! come in to luncheon. I know your abstemious habits, but you must at least take a cracker and a glass of wine after such a walk." Mr. Archer made no further demur, but followed, with his host, the trailing sweep of Miss Waldron's dress across the hall. The room which they entered was very handsome, and the pretty lunch- table was like a picture, as it stood glit- tering with crystal and china. When they sat down, Marchmont looked at the young lawyer with that sense of distrust which becomes the suit- or of an heiress. He saw no material for a rival, however. A gentleman unmis- takably was Mr. Archer, but evidently a man entirely unaccustomed to those easy habitudes of society which sat upon Marchmont himself like a garment. A refined, thoughtful face, with something of the keenness which is always apparent in the physiognomy of the born lawyer, and which here was chiefly expressed by the hazel eyes and attenuated nose this was what he noted, together with a man- ner reserved almost to stiffness, and a coat so much worn that it fairly reached the point of shabbiness. It was characteristic of General Wal- dron and his daughter that they treated the wearer of this shabby coat with a courtesy as cordial as if he had been a THE HEIRESS OF CEDARWOOD. millionaire, under the influence of which Mr. Archer's reserve melted somewhat. There was nothing shy or awkward about him, yet he felt both as he listened to Marchmont's flow of small-talk. Few things have a more paralyzing effect upon a man of action than to meet a man of society under circumstances like these ; and Archer was conscious of a sense of inferiority,, which he could not possibly have felt at any other time or in any other place. It was a relief when General "Waldron began to speak of topics with which he was familiar, leaving Miss Waldron and Marchmont to pursue their conversation aside. " I am inclined to think that your opinion is correct with regard to the X and Y Railroad, Archer," he said. "I was talking to Mr. Trafford about it a few days ago, and he is sure that the stock will prove a paying investment before very long. I know of nobody whose opinion on such a subject has more value than his." "Certainly he has judged very shrewd- ly for himself," said Archer. "No man has invested capital with greater success. I heard his wealth computed at a million the other day." "An exaggeration, I think," said the general, filling a glass of sparkling wine. ''But he is wealthy, beyond a doubt, and shrewd. There has been some talk, you know, about the unsoundness of the man- ufacturing company here, which has most likely brought him to Edgerton. If he sells his shares, I shall sell mine." " It will be at a great sacrifice." "Better that than lose the whole." Of this conversation only one name caught Marchmont's ear with a familiar sound, and that was " Trafford." For a minute he was unable to remember where he had lately heard it, until he thought of little Mariette Reynolds, and then he sud- denly became aware that Miss Waldron was talking to him. " You are very fond of music, are you not, Mr. Marchmont? Nay, don't an- swer the question was foolishly framed. Everybody professes to be ' fond of mu- sic.' I meant to say, you know a good deal of music do you not ? " "You alarm my modesty by such a formidable question," he answered. " I know something of music not a great deal, by any means." " Do you sing at all ? " " Not in the least. Nature only gave me the capability of admiring the singing of others." " It is a capability which she denies to many people. Papa, there, does not care a straw for the best music in the world, and does not know soprano from contralto, or tenor from base. But you wonder what all this leads to. Briefly, I am meditating a musical entertainment, or, at least, an entertainment which shall be in part musical ; and I wish to secure a good critic-in-chief." " To the extent of my limited ability, I shall be happy to serve in the position. What is your programme ? " " I will not bore you with it now. It is not fully matured, and immature things should never be published. If you remain in Edgerton two or three weeks longer, you will probably hear all about it." A few minutes later they left the din- ing-room, and General Waldron walked with Mr. Archer to the library, while Miss Waldron and her companion paused in the hall, where, through several open doors, the golden brightness of the day was fully revealed, and multitudinous sweet odors were borne in on the soft tricksy breezes. " It is a shame to spend such a day in the house," said the young lady, taking up a garden-hat. " Are you still exhaust- ed by the tramp papa gave you, Mr. Marchmont, or would you like to accom- pany me to the fernery ? I believe you have not seen it yet, and it is my show- place." "I have entirely recovered from my fatigue," Marchmont answered, "and I AFTER MANY DAYS. shall be glad to see the fernery, or any- thing else that you choose to show me." To the fernery, therefore, they took their way. It deserved to be a show- place, if only for the refreshment which it afforded them when they came into its shade and coolness from the noonday glare and heat. There were an abundance of rocks made damp by trickling water, and the green plumy grace of ferns in pro- fusion. " We can fancy ourselves in a moun- tain-glen," said Miss Waldron, after her companion had expressed his admiration. " The mountains only are lacking." " And that is a trifle when we have the rocks and ferns," said Marchmont. "I congratulate myself afresh upon hav- ing sent Anna and Florence back to Edg- erton without me ! I had an instinct of something charming in store for me ; and I never yet followed my instinct and was deceived." " You are very kind," said Miss Wal- dron, "but I can't help suspecting that, even while making these pretty speeches, you are, perhaps, putting the fernery in the same class with papa's model dairy." " I never justify myself when I am suspected," said Marchmont ; " I always leave circumstances to do that for me. Shall we sit down ? This is an improve- ment on a mountain-glen and, I may add, on the model dairy inasmuch as there are seats here for the indolent; and I am always indolent when I find myself in an agreeable place." Miss Waldron assented. " We can sit down," she said, " while I show you some of my prettiest varie- ties of ferns. Do you know much about them ! Here is the maiden's-hair, with its delicate ebony stem ; this is the beech- fern, this the cheilanthes, and here is the beautiful little Mr. Marchmont, I am instructing you, and you are not listening to me at all ! " "A thousand pardons! " said March- mont, who was looking at her instead of the ferns. "I was, indeed, not paying proper attention to what you were say- ing, for I was thinking shall I tell you what I was thinking ? " " Your thoughts might not interest me much more than my ferns have inter- ested you," she answered, lightly. "Probably not, but still I should like to tell you though I scarcely fancy you need to be told what they were. I can think of but one thing when I am with you, and that is yourself! " "Am I a thing?" she asked, with a laugh, while a soft flush rose into her cheeks. " You are a flatterer ; and since you are not at all interested in the ferns, we had better go back to the house." " Pray don't ! " said Marchmont, eager- ly. " I am not a flatterer. You know or you ought to know that I could not flatter you if I tried. I should have told you long ago that I love you passionately, if I had not lacked the opportunity, and perhaps the courage, to do so. But I can- not be silent any longer. I love you so much that I must ask if there is any hope of winning you? " The earnestness and passion with which he spoke were not simulated, for Beatrix Waldron was a prize well worth winning, apart from the wealth which made her chief attraction ; and the man who addressed her was spe- cially fitted to appreciate this. There are many worse counterfeits of love afloat in the world than the sentiment which he felt when, with his last words, he took her hand and kissed it. She did not draw it from his clasp, but when he lifted his head he found her dark eyes fastened on him with a steady grav- ity which did not augur well, he thought, for his hopes. If the lashes had drooped on the flushed cheeks, he would have felt that success was in his grasp. But that glance was not calculated to inspire such a conviction ; there was too much of the woman of the world apparent in it of the woman who had heard many other men utter such words as these. If he had suspected how quickly her heart was beating just then, he would have been re- THE HEIRESS OF CEDARWOOD. assured; but he did not suspect it, and her voice, when she spoke, did not betray the fact. " I cannot say that you surprise me, Mr. Marchmont, for that would be foolish and untrue. But. I am sorry that you have said this. "We have been very good friends now we must be something else. And I hardly know how to answer you." "Then you do not love me?" said Marchmont, with a pang of keen disap- pointment. " I was mad enough to hope" He broke off short ; but no rounded sentences could have pleaded his cause so well as that pause, and the look which accompanied it. This look went straight as an arrow to Beatrix's heart, and her lips curved into a smile, very sweet and very bright. " I am not seventeen," she said. " You must expect a woman of my age to be a little reasonable to consider a little be- fore pledging herself to anything very important. But I may say to you, as the heroines of old-time novels said to their lovers, '1 am not indifferent to your mer- its.' " "I am grateful for any crumb of en- couragement," he replied, " but my mer- its are so inappreciably small, that I can- not afford to base any hope on them." "Modesty is a great merit," said she, half laughing, "and so rare, too! I did not know before that you cultivated it. Shall I say, then, frankly, that I like you very much, but " " Why should you bring in that detest- able word?" asked he and now, indeed, he began to hope. "Surely you do not mean to qualify anything so moderate as liking." " No, I do not mean to qualify the lik- ing ; I only mean that I cannot give you anything more at present. I am doubt- ful of many things my own heart among the rest. As I have already said, a wom- an of my age, if she has any sense at all, does not act hastily in such an important matter as this. When I give my hand, I wish to be sure that my whole heart goes with it, and not only my heart, but my mind in other words, I want to be sure that I can thoroughly respect as well as love the man I marry." " And you are not sure of that with regard to me," said Marchmont, with a flush mounting to his brow. "You must not misunderstand me," she answered, quickly. "I only .mean that I know very little of you. How much of the real character do we show each other in the drawing-rooms ? Marriage is called a lottery ; but, for my part, I have always had a fancy to know what I was doing before taking a step which means so much. Is that desire unreasonable ? " " Very far from it," replied March- mont; though he might have added, "It is very inconvenient ! " "I am content if you give me a little hope if you do not send me away." "I should be sorry for you to go," she said, with a charming blush. "If you are willing to wait for a more defi- nite answer if you can be satisfied with a fair field and some favor " "I can be satisfied with anything which gives me a hope of at last winning this! " he said, again kissing the slender, delicate hand sparkling with jewels. She drew it away now with a faint sigh. Perhaps the thought occurred to her that without the jewels it might not be esteemed so well worth the winning at least it is certain that she had not the obtuseness with which (fortunately for themselves) many heiresses are liber- ally endowed. She did not exactly dis- trust every man who approached her, but she knew enough of the world to be aware of the mercenary side of human nature, and to feel sure that she was not indebted to her ~beaux-yeux alone for all the suitors who had thronged around her. Philosophy and worldly knowledge, however, combined to prevent her betray- ing such thoughts as these. Though she drew back her hand, it was with a very winning smile that she said: AFTER MANY DAYS. " I will not make your probation long or hard. Believe me, I have no love for coquetry, and I promise not to keep you in doubt an hour longer than I can help. Bat I must be certain of myself! I have known a great many men, and heard a great many declarations of attachment, shall I say? But, oddly enough, they have none of them touched my heart suf- ficiently to make me willing to give up my freedom and trust my life to the pow- er of a man who might make or mar all its happiness. You see" the Spanish- like eyes gazed away from him to the sunny emerald sward of the lawn beyond "I am not one of those gentle, trusting women to whom love is a necessity. On the contrary " a slight laugh " I think I am one of the women who could easily drift into a strong-minded old maid." u Heaven forbid! " cried Marchmont, with unaffected horror. " The bare idea of such a thing is sacrilege! Do not think that I shall grow impatient over my probation," he went on. "I will wait gladly, willingly any length of time, if only you can finally trust your life to me, believing that I shall make, not mar, its happiness." "I should be glad to believe it," she said, almost as if speaking to her- self. "Then why can you not believe it?" cried Marchmont, impetuously. ""What proof can I give you ? I should hesitate at none ! If I could only lay bare my heart to your inspection if you could only see" " Nay, that is impossible, you know," she interrupted, with another soft yet brilliant smile. " Besides, if one could al- ways see, there would be no such thing as faith ; and that is my favorite virtue. It is not because I distrust you that I hes- itate : it is because I am not sure of my- self. But I suppose there is an answer to all riddles after a while ; and you will wait patiently will you not ? for the an- swer to this. Now " after Marchmont had again assented "we will return to the house, for I see Mr. Archer is taking his departure, and I want to ask him to attend to some business for me." CHAPTER VI. AN APPLE-TKEE. ON the graveled sweep in front of the house Miss Waldron and her companion met Mr. Archer, who had parted with the general a moment before. Seeing the latter still standing on the steps of the portico, Marchmont said : " If you are going to walk to Edger- ton, Mr. Archer, and have no objection, I will accompany you as soon as I bid General Waldron good-day." Archer responded to the effect that he had no objection, and, leaving Miss Waldron talking to him, Marchmont passed on to the general. That genial gentleman, being fond of conversation, detained him several minutes, and it was with some difficulty that he at last took leave and rejoined the others. As he approached, he heard Miss Waldron say- ing : " It is a rather troublesome commis- sion, but you are so kind about attending to such things that I have grown accus- tomed to imposing upon your good-na- ture." " I assure you that I have never felt the imposition," Archer replied. "It gives me sincere pleasure to serve you in any way." " Will you have a fern for a reward ? " she asked, extending one with a smile. "I know you are as much of a fern-lover as myself. I have been showing my fernery to Mr. Marchmont, and trying to waken his interest for my favorites, but I failed signally." "I think you know the reason of the failure," said Marchmont, while Archer received the fern and looked at it with the air of a connoisseur. UNDER AN APPLE-TREE. 29 " This is one of your prettiest varie- ties, Miss Waldron," he said. "How very delicate and graceful these fronds are ! You mean it for me ? Thank you." He took out his pocket-book, opened it, and placed the fern within, saying: " A leaf like this withers sooner than a flower in the heat of the sun." " And am I to be punished for finding you more interesting than the ferns, by not having any bestowed upon me?" asked Marchmont. " Surely you will not be so unkind ! I, too, think fern-leaves beautiful and I should like one as a sou- venir," he added, with a glance that ex- pressed a great deal. Despite her self-possession, Beatrix's color deepened as she held out the collec- tion. " Take one, if you like," she said ; " but I am sure you will not value it." " I should prefer for you to give it to me," he answered. " And as for my not valuing it, I think you know better than that. I would value anything you gave me especially anything associated with to-day." His voice sank over the last words, so that Archer did not hear them, but he had a shrewd idea of their tenor. Having by this time put away his pocket-book, he said, somewhat stiffly : "I am at your service, Mr. March- rnont, when you are ready to start." "I will not detain you," said March- mont. " Many thanks ! " as Miss Waldron gave him the fern. "I shall have the pleasure of seeing you soon again." The gentlemen lifted their hats; the lady bowed ; then they moved away over the sunshiny lawn toward a small wick- et which let them into the fields, across which a path ran. "What a charming place!" March- mont said, as they found themselves out- side the grounds. " One seems while there to breathe an air of repose and lux- ury. After all, there is no such benefi- cent genius as money, when it is united with good taste." " It is a very powerful genius," said Archer, " but its beneficence depends alto- gether upon the use which is made of it." "At least it would be difficult to find fault with the manner in which it is used in this instance," said Marchmont. " What a capital fellow the general is, despite his being a trifle prosy ! And good taste is one of the least of Miss Wal- dron's charms." There was something in the tone of this remark which jarred on Archer ; but he was well aware that he had no right to express any feeling of the kind. " It would be difficult to tell what charm Miss Waldron does not posse'ss," he said. "I have known her with a par- tial degree of intimacy for .several years, and I have never met a nobler character than hers." "You are enthusiastic," said March- mont, looking at him with the least pos- sible elevation of the eyebrows. "No; I am simply literal," was the quiet reply. "I am not talking at ran- dom. I have something more than a drawing-room acquaintance with Miss Waldron's character. At the present moment I hold a commission from her there's nothing confidential in the matter, so I may speak of it which shows how ready she is to think of benefiting others. There is an untaught boy in Edgerton who has a remarkable talent for painting, and a photographer employs him to col- or photographs, some of which fell into Miss Waldron's hands. She was much struck by the work, and she has asked me to find out all that there is to know about him, and, if he is really deserving of assistance, to send him to her. If he is deserving, I have no more doubt than I have that I am walking here that she will induce her father to give him the opportunities he needs." "Her father must be uncommonly obliging if he suffers her to waste money on such objects. Embryo geniuses are among the most disappointing things in the world." 30 AFTER MANY DAYS. "The general has no one to consider but herself, therefore he does not curb her expenditure at all. I have heard a great many people talk of her ' wasting money' before this, but I fancy they would not have considered it so griev- ously wasted if, instead of helping the struggling, it had been spent on laces and jewels." Marchmont's lip curled as he lifted the slight walking-cane which he carried, and beheaded two or three weeds with a sin- gle stroke. He could not exactly say, " The general should consider his future son-in-law," but he thought it. A pause of two or three minutes followed before he said, carelessly: "What is the name of the struggling Raphael in question ? " "Dinsmore," Archer answered. "Dinsmore!" Marchmont repeated, with an involuntary start. To himself he added, " By Jove, it is odd ! " " Do you know anything about him? " asked Archer, in some surprise. "Nothing further than that there is a boy of that name in Mr. Lathrop's busi- ness-house." "Probably the same. I think I have heard that he is there." Had Marchmont forgotten his appoint- ment with Amy Reynolds which was not the case this unexpected introduc- tion of Dinsmore' s name would have re- minded him of it. Consequently, when they entered Edgerton, he glanced at his watch, and said : " I believe I am just in time for an engagement which I made this morning. Do our roads part here ? I am happy to have made your acquaintance, Mr. Ar- cher. Good-afternoon." As Archer returned the salutation and walked away, Marchmont glanced after his alert figure with a half -amused expression. " So that is your secret, is it, my good fellow? " he said to himself. " You are certainly pretty hard hit ; but it is an in- fernal piece of presumption for you to think of Beatrix Waldron! " " A thorough puppy ! " was Archer's equally complimentary soliloquy at the same moment, " and, unless I am great- ly mistaken, mercenary to boot! How strange that such a woman should be at- tracted by such a man ! and she is at- tracted, if I am any judge of the signs of feminine fancy. Well," with a short, quick sigh, " what is it to me ? ' It were all one That I should love some bright particular star, And think to wed it.' I don't think it I am not such a fool as that ; but I should like a chance to prove what I would do for her sake, and what a pitiful soul lurks, I am sure, under that fellow's silken exterior ! " The pleasantest in fact, the only pleasant feature of the Reynolds domi- cile was a tolerably-sized garden, which, although it in part adjoined the Crenshaw garden, did not, like that, border the street. Hence it was much more retired, and, with the dwelling for its boundary in front and a high fence and tall hedges on the other sides, was an agreeable place of resort from January to December. Yet it was not much of a garden, either in an ornamental or useful sense. The vege- tables which came out of it were few and poor, while the flowers that grew in it had long since assumed the entire control of their own destinies. Nevertheless, there were bloom and fragrance even here under the sweet kiss of April. Syringa and yellow jasmine, lilac and honeysuc- kle, these alone would redeem Sahara. A very rickety arbor was covered with the jasmine and honeysuckle, among which countless bees were humming loud- ly, and under which, as four o'clock drew near, sat Amy, arrayed in the best dress her limited wardrobe afforded, with lilies- of-the-valley in her hair, a score of music on her lap, and a look of expectancy in her eyes. A clock near by struck the hour, and several minutes afterward elapsed, but UNDER AN APPLE-TREE. 31 still the golden quiet of the afternoon re- mained undisturbed. The children, on various pretexts, had been sent away, and the only sounds which broke the still- ness were the chords of the piano as they rolled out under Felix's fingers. Through the open windows every note was audible ; but Amy was so accustomed to this that it did not in any manner interfere with her thoughts or her power of listening. Consequently, when a peal of the door- bell came, she heard it at once, although the musician was just then in the midst of a crashing fortissimo passage. Instantly she dropped her score and darted away. Clara, the half-tleaf ser- vant-of-all-work, sometimes answered the door-bell, if she chanced to hear it and was not too busy ; but this, of all things, Amy least desired at present, for Clara had severe ideas of propriety, and fre- quently admonished the willful, mother- less girl in a well-meant but not agreeable manner. If she went to the door, Mr. Marchmont would not be admitted of that Amy felt sure ; so she hurried away tearing her dress in her haste on an overgrown rosebush flitted across the latticed back piazza, walked demurely but quickly down the narrow passage, and opened the door with trembling fingers, to face a short, heavily bearded, bright- ly spectacled man, who held out his hand and said : " Goot-day, my dear ! Ees your baba at home?" " Oh ! " said Amy, with a great gulp of disappointment. She felt a strong in- clination to slam the door, liked a spoiled child, but she* resisted it, and only an- swered shortly : " No, Herr Meerbach, he isn't at home ; he never is at home this time of day." " Ah, I haf made von mistake, den," said IleiT Meerbach, smiling as he looked at her a smile Amy felt nowise, inclined to return. " I fought he vas done mit his lessons by now. Veil, my bretty little maiden, you shust say to heem dat I veel be glad eef he veel come to my room to- night. I haf von letter from mine friend in Leipsic." " Oh, Herr Meerbach ! " cried Amy, " is there any hope that papa will be able to send Felix ? " " Sh ! sh ! " said Herr Merrbach, while his bright eyes seemed to grow brighter behind the spectacles. " Ees not Felix at de piano ? Do not let him know. Dis- appointment is hard, and your baba must say. Goot-day, my dear, and be sure you tell heem." After the kindly little man had walked away, Amy gave one quick glance up and down the street, then drew in her curly head with a sigh and shut the door. " It would never do to be found watch- ing for him ! " she said to herself. It was in a somewhat dejected frame of mind that she returned to the garden. Picking up her score from the walk where it lay, she retreated to the farthest corner of the domain, and established herself on the low, broad bough of a spreading ap- ple-tree a bough easily reached without much gymnastic skill. It was her favorite seat, and she did not care now how much she tumbled her dress. " I was a fool to think he would re- member or care to come ! " she said. "Never mind; things will be different when I'am a prima donna! " Then, as a means to this desirable end, she bent her eyes and her attention on the music, and began to sing. Considering the sounds she was emit- ting, it was not singular that, several minutes later, she did not hear approach- ing steps until her practising was inter- rupted by the appearance of Marchmont, who stepped round a cluster of bushes, and said, with a smile : " I see that Fortune has marked me for its own. To find you alone, to find you here, and to find you singing, what a delightful combination of circumstan- ces!" " How did you get here ? " asked Amy, too startled to think of any other AFTER MANY DAYS. greeting, and thrilling with a mixture of pleasure and mortification pleasure that he had come, mortification that she should be found established, like a tomboy, in the fork of an apple-tree. "I met my charming little friend Mariette on the street. She piloted me into the house, and your voice did the rest. Are you vexed with me for com- ing? If you could see yourself among those apple-blossoms, you would think the picture too lovely to be wasted ; and I am at least endowed with the power to admire." There was little doubt of that. His eyes, as he spoke, expressed this admira- tion so plainly, that into Amy's face the blood mounted in a roseate tide. She recovered her composure, however helped thereto by a sense of satisfaction which was all the greater for following on partial disappointment. "I hope my ankles are not showing very badly ! " she thought. " If I had expected you in the least, you would not find me perched here in this ridiculous manner," she added, aloud. " I don't consider it ridiculous at all," said Harchmont. " I have often sat in an apple-tree, and I know that it gener- ally makes a capital seat. May I try it now ? That bough looks very tempting." " I cannot advise you to try it," said Amy, with a rippling laugh. "I don't think it would bear your weight. It cracked the other day when Hugh and I were sitting here." " Oh, Hugh sits there, does he ? Lucky fellow ! By-the-by, I think I saw Hugh this morning isn't his name Dinsmore ? and he did not regard me in a very friend- ly manner." " Hugh is peculiar ! " said Amy. " I bear with him because he is such a good fellow, but I often tell him that he will never get on in the world." " That must be encouraging," said Marchmont, smiling. He was not in the least interested in Hugh, but he served for a topic of conversation, and it was pleasant to lean against a convenient tree and watch at his leisure the slanting sun- light fall on the girl opposite on her rich chestnut hair, her exquisite complexion, her piquant features and laughing eyes. " By Jove ! " he said to himself, " if she ever does go on the stage, it will be a Veni, vidi, vici business in more senses than one ! " "Oh, Hugh does not mind what I say," remarked Amy, answering his last remark. " "We are great friends, though he is very trying and some day when I am famous he is to paint my portrait." " You have quite made up your mind with regaVd to the fame, then ? " "I have quite made up my mind; but " a sigh " unluckily there are other minds to be made up." " Would a victory be worth anything without a struggle? But I see no neces- sity to wait till you are famous with re- gard to the portrait. "Why does not Hugh paint it now ? I should like a pict- ure of you as you sit there. But I should not like him to be here to take it at least not now." "It is very inhospitable of me to sit here and let you stand," said Amy, de- bating in her mind how she should get down. "We might go into the parlor, only Felix is making such a noise there." "Don't think of such a thing! It is absolutely sinful to spend such hours as these under a roof." " Well, there is the arbor, if you won't be frightened by its appearance. It looks as if just about to fall down, but it has stood a long while." " I should be dreadfully frightened, I am certain. I don't want to be buried, not even by an arbor. It strikes me that we are excellently placed ; pray allow me to remain where I am. I never grow tired when I am well entertained." " I don't see what there is to enter- tain you," said Amy, who began to find this very agreeable. "Don't you? That is strange ! How- ever, I must not neglect business for UNDER AN APPLE-TREE. 33 pleasure, though happily, in this instance, business is synonymous with pleasure. Will you let me hear your song, mademoi- selle? Mademoiselle did not demur or hesi- tate. She lifted the sheet of music, and forthwith began to sing. Marchmont listened and looked with an expression of amused approval. The pretty, half-childish figure perched on the gnarled bough of the old apple- tree, her unconscious imitation of the inanner of a concert-singer, and the beau- tiful, silvery voice the oddity of this combination might have amused a less volatile person. "When the song ended, she received his compliments and criticisms with per- fect composure. " Of course I have a great deal yet to learn," she said; "but I know my voice will be worth hearing some day. Papa says so, and Heir Meerbach he is teacher of music at the college, you know and Mr. Trafford. It is astonishing how much Mr. Trafford knows about such things ! " Upon which Marchmont could no lon- ger restrain the question which had trem- bled on his tongue twice before that day. "Who is Mr. Trafford?" he asked. "Or perhaps I should say what is he? I have heard of him as a benevolent gen- tleman who keeps string for the benefit of small children, and as a capitalist who invests in paying stocks ; now I hear of him as a musical critic. Pray, is he any- thing else?" " An eavesdropper occasionally with- out malicious intention," answered a voice which made both Marchmont and Amy start. The former, however, was chiefly surprised when, on turning, he en- countered the gaze of a pair of acute eyes, and saw a head overlooking the high wall which shut off Mrs. Orenshaw's garden. This head was covered with iron-gray hair, and surmounted by an embroidered smoking-cap ; the face was that of a man between fifty and sixty, bronzed, lined, expressing much shrewdness, yet frank 3 and pleasant withal. A meerschaum pipe was in his mouth, which he removed as he went on : "You must excuse me, my dear" addressing Amy " but your song drew me to the end of the garden, and, as I paced along the wall, I heard this gentle- man's question. You can answer it as you please, for I am going back to the house now. Take care of yourself don't fall out of that tree ! " He smiled, nodded, and disappeared. There was a minute's silence while they listened to his retreating footsteps, then Marchmont said : "Is he a lunatic? Ilis mode of ap- pearance reminds one strikingly of the crazy man in 'Nicholas Nickleby.' " "Oh, no," replied Amy; "but," she added, lowering her voice to a whisper, " he is very, very queer what would be called eccentric. He boards at Mrs.Cren- shaw's, and he is devoted to music though you wouldn't think so from his looks, would you ? The first time I ever saw him was in just that way. I was sitting here, singing, and he looked over the wall and asked if I was a thrush or a nightingale. The next night Felix was playing, and he put his head in the parlor- window, and said : ' That boy will make a great musician some day.' Then papa asked him in, and he has been coming ever since." " I don't wonder at that," said March- mont. " How is it possible for any one to keep away who has once been ad- mitted to your enchanted garden ? If I come again very soon, will you be sur- prised ? " " I don't know why you should," an- swered Amy, blushing. "But if /know, is not that enough? You would not have the heart to deny me, if you could imagine how dull I find everything else." He came nearer, and leaned his arm on the bough upon which she sat. " Speak ! " he said, smiling. " May I return ? T)o you believe in Fate ? I 34 AFTER MANY DAYS. do; and I believe it has thrown us to- gether for a purpose." " I don't believe in Fate at all," re- plied Amy, who, young as she was, had a sufficient spice of coquetry in her to hold her own; "but you may come if you like." " Do you doubt my liking ? " "Yes; I doubt it. I can only sing; while you must know any number of charming ladies who " She stopped short, for he was laugh- ing. " So you think you can only sing ? " he said. "Does your mirror tell you no more than that ? Do you not know that your face is as uncommon as your voice ? " The unmistakable sincerity of his words seemed to impress her. She looked down with half-parted lips, a questioning surprise in her eyes. " I did not suppose that you would think so," she said, simply. Then, as she realized what her words implied, the color again rushed over her face, and saying quickly, "This is all nonsense ! " she suddenly made a spring toward the ground. In her haste and confusion she was awkward. Her foot caught, and she would have fallen heavily if Marchmont had not been so near. As it was, he had barely time to interpose and receive her in his arms. " You see you are punished for trying to deprive me of the pleasure of assisting you down," he said, laughing, as she drew back from him, flushed and more lovely than ever. For an instant he was greatly tempted to snatch a kiss, but he felt in- stinctively that even this wild little Bohe- mian was woman enough to resent such a liberty, and he had no mind to be ban- ished in earnest. "You might have sprained your ankle," he went on, " and a sprained ankle is no joke. Why were you in such haste ? Have I made myself disagreeable? If so, it was most uninten- tionally. This garden is the most delight- ful place I have known in an age, and has but one disadvantage the probability that Mr. Trafford's head may appear over the wall at any time." " It does not appear very often," said Amy. " He is not often at home." " The most desirable thing would be that he should take his departure alto- gether. One never knows what course the eccentricities of eccentric people may follow. A propos, what a charming glen that was in which I first saw you ! Do you go there only on Sunday ? " " Not often at any other time, because I do not like to walk so far alone, and Hugh can go with me only on Sunday, while Felix cares for nothing but the piano." "Will you let me be your escort some time? Mr. Trafford would not be there, and I am sure we should enjoy it very much." This proposal took Amy by surprise. Even if her social position had been dif- ferent, her social experience much great- er, she would have been flattered by the attention of this fine gentleman, whose appearance in Edgerton had created a flutter of interest in what newspaper writers call "fashionable circles." Being what she was, it seemed almost incredible that he should distinguish her by his ad- miration, and she brightened and dimpled with pleasure as she answered : "I shall be very glad to go if I can." " If you can ! Who will prevent your doing so ? " " Oh, nobody, I suppose. There ! " as a prolonged cry of " Miss Amy ! " came from the region of the house. " Clara is calling me; I must go! Would you would you mind if I let you out into the lane, instead of taking you through the house again ? It is shorter, and Clara is so fussy I " " I am in your hands ; do exactly what you please with^me," replied Marchmont, who for obvious reasons preferred a quiet exit. HUGH RECEIVES A COMMISSION. 35 He was therefore piloted to a small gate opening from the garden on a nar- row lane. "We keep this locked most of the time," said Amy, unfastening it, "but sometimes we find it conveniently open." " It is very convenient," said March- mont; "and, now that you have showed me the secret entrance, you need not be surprised if you see me often. Must I really go no w ? Is Clara a dragon ? Good- evening, then, and do not forget that you are pledged to take a woodland ramble." " Amy," said Mariette, an hour or two later, "see what a pretty fern I found at the foot of our apple-tree." " Give it to me ! " said Amy, quickly. When the delicate frond was placed in her hand, she knew it to be the one which she had seen in Marchmont's button-hole, and which no doubt had fallen unnoticed when he caught her as she sprang from the tree. "It is too pretty to throw away," she said to the child. Then she ran to her own room, placed it carefully between the leaves of a book, and wrote the date on the margin. "I feel as if this is the beginning of life for me ! " she said, looking at it with the pencil between her fingers. CHAPTER VII. HUGH RECEIVES A COMMISSION. IT is to be supposed that Mr. Archer's inquiries with regard to Hugh Dinsmore were satisfactory, for a few days later a note was brought to Miss Waldron, which contained the following lines: " DEAR Miss WALDRON : This will be presented to you by Hugh Dinsmore, the colorist of whom you spoke when I last saw you. He bears, as far as I can learn, an unblemished character, and deserves respect and encouragement. I have the honor to be your obedient servant, "HENRY ARCHER." Miss Waldron, who was sitting in the library, laid down her book, and said to the servant : "Where is the boy? " "lie said he'd wait in the hall, ma'am." " You should have asked him into the drawing-room ; but no matter now show him in here." A minute later Hugh entered. The change from the bright light of the hall to the subdued light of the library made him hesitate for an instant within the door ; then he saw the young lady rise, and he advanced with a not ungraceful bow. " How do you do, Mr. Dinsmore ? " she said, in her pleasant, frank voice. " I am glad you have come. Pray sit down." She indicated a chair as she spoke a more delightful chair than Hugh had ever in his life occupied before and as he sat down he said : " I have come by Mr. Archer's request, Miss Waldron ; he told me that you wished to see me." " Yes," replied Miss Waldron, noticing with what an educated accent he spoke ; " I requested Mr. Archer to send you or, rather, to ask you to come. I believe you are an artist ? " " I, madam ? " said Hugh. " Oh, no ! I should like to be one, if I could." She smiled cordially. "That is the right feeling," she said; "I have no doubt you will be one. You are very young yet. I saw a photograph which you colored the other day, and it was so well done that I thought I would ask you to touch up some for me." " I will do it willingly," he answered. " You are sure you have the time ? " " Yes, for I paint at night. To color a photograph is nothing; that is not artist-work at all." " Yet artists are often colorists." " Perhaps so for money. But there is no satisfaction in it. Do what one will, the hard outlines, the sharp shades, remain." 36 AFTER MANY DAYS. "The photograph you painted, of which I speak, had less of that than any other I ever saw ; the colors were so fine- ly and softly blended." " Who was the photograph of?" he asked. "I paint a great many." " This was of Meta Brodnax." " I remember. The commission came directly from Miss Brodnax, so I could afford to do my best. I cannot usually afford to do so for what Mr. Watkins pays me." " Your best was so admirable, that I could scarcely believe this was a mere photograph taken on paper. It looked like a miniature painted on ivory." " No ! " said Hugh, shaking his head. " A photograph can never look like a miniature ; the artist's hand has done everything there. And then, ivory is such a beautiful thing to paint on or must be, I should think. I have never tried it." "Why not? It is true that minia- tures are now generally superseded by these odious photographs ; but there are some people who still have sense enough to desire an enduring picture." The boy hesitated for a moment, then he said, siuply, "That may be; but I have never had the ivory on which to paint, nor the necessary instruction. And I like oil-colors best." " Wait a moment," said Miss Waldron, and, rising quickly, she left the room. When she returned she carried in her hand a casket which would have delight- ed a virtuoso. Placing it on the table by which Hugh and herself had been sitting, she unlocked it with a small key and drew forth a miniature richly set in pearls and attached to a long gold chain. " This," she said, " is one of our most valuable family possessions. It is a min- iature which was painted in Paris more than a century ago a picture of the an- cestress after whom I am named, Lady Beatrix Waldron. She was named after that unhappy princess who was the sec- ond wife of James II., and both by birth and marriage was identified with devoted Jacobites. Her husband and herself were untiring in the cause of the Pretender, and the former played an important part in the ill-fated campaign of 1745. It was owing to his wife's courage and wit that he finally escaped to France with his head on his shoulders, and there this picture was taken. Soon after, like many others who followed the white cockade of Prince Charlie, they came to America, where their descendants live at the present day. See, how lovely she is! And would you not think that the picture had been paint- ed yesterday, from the freshness and clearness of its tints ? " Hugh answered not a word. He had received the miniature in his hand, and he now stood, with his eyes fastened on it, almost as if he had been magnetized. " How beautiful ! how beautiful ! " he said at last. "I never saw anything so beautiful before ! " It certainly was exquisitely painted, and the subject was one which had given the artist's powers full scope. The love- ly, high-bred face with its brilliant com- plexion, the fearless eyes, and rich brown hair elaborately coifed and dressed with pearls, the* fair, uncovered neck, and court- dress each was painted with a delicacy and skill that were like a revelation to Hugh. Miss Waldron smiled kindly at his de- light. " I am glad I showed it to you," she said. " We are very proud of our ances- tress, for her courage was as great as her beauty." " She looks like a princess and a hero- ine in one ! " said the boy. " I am sure she would have died for Prince Charlie ! " "Very likely. I have heard that to the day of her death she was an ardent Jacobite. But a thought has struck me ! I think I can give you a better commis- sion than the mere coloring of a few pho- tographs. How should you like to copy this?" "Miss Waldron, you cannot be in earnest ? " HUGH RECEIVES A COMMISSION. 37 "I am in serious earnest. Do you think you could do it? " There was a minute's pause before he answered a pause during which he looked intently at the picture. Then he said, very slowly: " I think I could." "If you think so, you shall," said Miss "\Valdron. " I have a cousin who has long coveted this miniature, but of course it is impossible that I could give it to her. I have several times thought, however, that I should like to give her a copy. Now, if you can make a faithful copy, I will pay you a hundred dollars.." " Miss Waldron ! " said Hugh, with a pasp. Such a wonderful prospect as that of making at one stroke a hundred dol- lars fairly took away his breath. " Oh, I would try my very best to do it ! " he cried, eagerly, after a moment; "but but you cannot mean to trust this picture to me ? " " Why should I not ? See there ! " she pushed Mr. Archer's note toward him " that is the character you bring me." Hugh took the note and read the few lines, with a flush mounting to his face. Then he looked up, and, as he was stand- ing just opposite the window,*Miss Wal- dron was struck by the limpid candor of his eyes. "Mr. Archer is very good," he said, simply, " and, as far as I am concerned, your picture would be safe. But there is the danger of accident. I hardly think I dare take it." " There would be no danger of acci- dent if you did not tell any one that you had it," said the young lady, whose sense of prudence was often overmastered by generous impulses. " Does any one share your room ? " "Not any one at all. I could have a better one if I would share it, but I can- not; I must have privacy at any cost." " And you stay " " At Mrs. Sargent's. It is a very plain house, but the people are honest and kind." " Then I see no possible reason why you should not take the picture. In fact, I insist upon it. Frankly, when I sent for you it was with the intention of offer- ing you the means necessary to become an artist; but since I have seen you, I am sure you would rather earn money than accept it." " I would very much rather earn it," he answered, " though I thank you for intending to offer it," he added, with a courtesy that surprised his listener. " I am glad you told me ; I have always be- lieved that people who never knew what struggle was cared little for the sufferings of those who have never known anything else ; but I shall not think so again." " Some of us are very careless," said Miss Waldron, " but we often err more from want of thought than want of heart. By- the- way, I believe you said you have no ivory. I will give you some sheets that I have. Some years ago," she went on, unheeding Hugh's remonstrance, as she crossed the floor and opened the door of a cabinet, "I took a fancy to paint miniatures. Of course I failed. But I have all the necessary appliances here, and I will hand them over to you." Poor Hugh was so overcome by this kindness that he was fairly incoherent when he attempted to return his thanks ; and when, after a little longer talk in the course of which Miss Waldron drew forth all his hopes and aspirations he went away, it was with a half -incredu- lous sense of something too good to be true. As he was leaving the hall a carriage drew up before the door, and, crossing the portico, he found himself face to face with Miss Lathrop and Brian March- mont. The young lady swept by with an in- different glance ; Marchmont nodded care- lessly, but Hugh did not return the salu- tation. He lifted his hat to Miss Lathrop, whom he knew as the daughter of his employer ; but he passed Marchmont, who was a little behind, without the least notice. That gentleman smiled. 38 AFTER MAXT DAYS. " Is it worth while to give the unman- nerly young beggar a lesson? " he thought. "But, perhaps, the hest lesson is the jeal- ousy he is suffering with regard to pretty Amy. So Archer, like a fool, sent him Jiere! But then, he would do anything to ingratiate himself with Miss Waldron. Florence," he said, as the servant left his cousin and himself in the drawing-room, " do you know anything ahout that fel- low Archer, whom I met here several days ago ? " "Very little," answered Miss Flor- ence. "He does not go into society at all. When he first came to Edgerton, mamma who knew his mother, or some- thing of the kind tried to show him a little attention ; hut he repulsed it like a hear, and since then he has heen left alone. By all accounts, he must he to- tally unfitted for society. But why do you ask?" " Simply because it is very evident that he lifts his eyes and his hopes to our charming lady of the manor." Miss Florence opened her eyes. "Is it possible?" she said. "I am certainly surprised though I don't know why I should be," she added, philosoph- ically. " All men want to merry an heir- ess, and no man believes there is any dan- ger of his failing to please a woman." " Until he has failed a few times," said Marchmont. " Then he learns wisdom, if not modesty. But I consider Archer's case one of flagrant presumption, and it is a pity Miss Waldron is not aware of it, that she might administer an effectual quietus." " Do you suppose she is not aware of it? " asked his cousin. " Women usually know such things long before they let you know that they are aware of them." " I know that the dull masculine mind hardly appreciates the quickness of the feminine intelligence," Marchmont began, with a laugh ; but Miss Waldron's appear- ance just then cut short his speech. She looked very handsome as she en- tered, dressed in black grenadine and black lace, with a crapy, rose-colored tie at her throat, a rich flush on her cheeks, a bright light in her eyes. . It was not the first time that she had seen Marchmont since his declaration in the fernery, so her manner was altogether composed as she shook hands with him, after greeting Miss Lathrop. "I am so glad that you have both come," she said, presently. "I want to ask you about my birthday entertain- ment. Papa insists, as usual, on a hall though I tell him that I am growing too old for such frivolities but he does not object to anything else that I please being added. We had theatricals last year, you know, Florence, so I have thought of a concert a kind of musical fete. What do you think of it?" " I think that you will find it very dif- ficult to accomplish," replied Miss Flor- ence. "Singers will be even harder to find than actors and harder to manage, too." " That they could not possibly be," said Miss Waldron, laughing. " The man- aging, however, will fall on the director's shoulders and he is equal to it." "Mr. Reynolds, you mean?" "Yes, Mr. Reynolds. He is perma- nently director of the Cecilia Society, and he tells me that any or all the members of it will assist. Since the society comprises the best musical talent in Edgerton, that settles the question of performers." "Pray," said Marchmont, "does Mr. Reynolds's daughter belong to the Cecilia Society ? She has one of the finest voices I ever heard the purest, most silvery so- prano." "Little Amy?" said Miss Waldron, in a tone of surprise. "I had no idea of it." " I have heard something of her voice," said Miss Florence ; " but she cer- tainly does not belong to the Cecilia. They are all of our class." "I suppose she would hardly contam- inate them," said Marchmont. "And real- ly" turning to Miss Waldron "if you "SO LONG AS YOU ARE AMUSED." 39 want to signalize your fete by bringing out a star of the first magnitude, get little Amy, as you call her, to sing for you." " Is her voice really so good ? " " It is really most remarkable." "And how did you find out about it, Brian?" asked Miss Florence, curiously. " I heard her accidentally first," said Marchmont, carelessly. "Since .then I have been to Mr. Eeynolds's house once or twice for the pleasure of listening to her." "And looking at her, perhaps," said Miss Waldron, smiling. " She is very pretty. Thank you for the information, Mr. Marchmont ; I will act on it at once. Perhaps it may benefit her to bring her voice into notice," she added. " So you want another protegee ? " said Marchmont. " Are you not satisfied with the one whom I met going out? " " Dear me ! " said Miss Florence. " "Was that shabby boy a protege of yours, Beatrix ? I thought, of course, he had merely come on an errand." " I am inclined to think that shabby boy will make a remarkable man some day," said Miss Waldron. " He certainly has great talent for painting. I saw some of his work not long ago, and I asked Mr. Archer to inquire about his character, and, if it was good, to send him here." "Mr. Archer ah!" said Miss Flor- ence, glancing at her cousin. " I have given him a kind of test-com- mission," Miss Waldron went on. " It will show his power, enable me to help him, and serve to educate him in art all at the same time. He is to copy the miniature of my ancestress, Lady Bea- trix, which you have often admired, Flor- ence." "What! that picture? O Beatrix! " " Well" with a laugh" why should not that picture be copied as well as an- other?" " But how absurd pray excuse me ! to imagine that he could copy it, or to trust anything so valuable in his hands ! Brian, have you ever seen it? No? That is a pity, for it is the loveliest thing imaginable, and is set in pearls worth a fortune." " My dear Florence, pray be mod- erate ! The pearls are beautiful, but they do not by any means represent a for- tune." " And is it possible," said Marchmont, with a look of amazement, " that you have trusted such a thing to the boy whom I met?" " I trusted it to him yes. I am sure he is honest." " But pardon me ! how can you pos- sibly be sure ? There is every presump- tion against his honesty, and the tempta- tion is immense. Let me urge you to reclaim the picture at once ! " "Yes pray do! " pleaded Miss Flor- ence. " Think how dreadful it would be if he ran away with it ! Really, Beatrix, I am astonished at you I " "Honestly," said Miss Waldron, "if I had taken time for thought, I might not have given him the picture; but I cannot reclaim it now. I feel sure of his honesty, and I could not seem to suspect him." "It would be better to do that than to lose the picture," urged her friend. "I have no fear of losing it. Mr. Marchmont, can you suggest anything very effective for the programme of my | fete ? Mr. Eeynolds suggests a cantata, but I fear that would be too long, and weary, more than entertain, an audience longing for dancing." "I think a concert selection would be better, ' ' said March mont ; " but y our o w n ideas, I am sure, are good. Let us have them!" CHAPTER VIII. "SO LOSTO AS YOU ARE AMUSED." "You don't seem glad of my good fortune, Amy," said Hugh, in rather a wounded tone. 40 AFTER MANY DAYS. They were in the garden together, these two young people, as the day died softly away into dusk, and in the western sky the sunset built a gorgeous temple of fretted gold and jasper, with vivid crim- son melting into softest rose on the long lines of vapor. Over their heads hiing a canopy of ten- der green foliage, while neither thought of dew in connection with the fragrant grass on which they sat. In response to Hugh's last speech Amy looked up, and the dreamy expres- sion, which had of late become habitual in her eyes, faded out of them, as she said : " Yes, I am glad, Hugh, but I wish it had come in another way. If I were you, I would not like the idea of being patronized ; and that is what Miss Wal- dron is doing." "I don't think so," Hugh replied; but the color mounted to his sensitive face. "Patronage means something of- fensive, but Miss Waldron only intends to be kind. Of course, she desires to as- sist me, and makes an opportunity to do so; but why should I object to that? I would not accept charity, but it would surely be misplaced pride to refuse assist- ance." Amy made a slight, petulant motion with her shoulders, "That may be the way you look at it," she said, "but /never mean to be in- debted to anybody for anything. Above all, I would not be indebted to one of those arrogant Edgerton people ! " " I doubt if people here are more ar- rogant than people anywhere else," said Hugh, quietly ; " and Miss Waldron is not arrogant at all. She is as kind and simple " " I don't want to hear anything about her," interrupted Amy. "You may fall in love with her if you like, but please don't bore me with her praises." " Fall in love with her ! " repeated Hugh, with a laugh. "That is a good joke! Honor bright, Amy, don't you know that I never have been, and never shall be, in love with but one person? " "Nonsense, Hugh! you are a boy, and don't know your own mind," replied Amy, with discouraging carelessness. "You are mistaken about that," said Hugh, who was well used to snubbing. "I know my mind a great deal better than many men, and before long I shall ~be a man. Then, perhaps, you'll listen to me." "My dear boy," said Amy, with the calmness of superior wisdom, " before you have finished learning how to paint, I shall be a queen of the lyric stage. Mr. March " Here ehe stopped short, and either a glow from the sunset sky suddenly fell over her face, or else a blush dyed it. " Well," said Hugh, in a tone of very poorly-concealed irritation, " what has your oracle, Mr. Marchmont, told you now ? " "Nothing that would interest you," she answered, with an attempt at dignity. " You are so prejudiced against him that it is not worth while to repeat anything he has said." "I am not prejudiced against him," said Hugh. " Why should I be? But I know that his coming here does you no good ; and I doubt if your father knows how often he does come." "Hugh, how dare you! " cried Amy, with wrathful lightning gathering in her eyes. "I would dare a great deal, Amy, to save you from any harm," answered Hugh, gravely. " You don't know you are so young, and have no mother how people will talk if Mr. Marchmont continues to come here so much. Oh, you may be as angry with me as you like I do not care how angry you are, if it makes you consider." " What should I consider ? " demanded Amy, so angry that her cheeks were ablaze with crimson. " What is Edger- ton to me? I don't care a straw if people talk till their tongues drop out! " SO LONG AS YOU ARE AMUSED." " I think you would care if you knew," said Hugh. "And "your father I am sure he would care. He works so hard, and is so busy, that he has not time to look after you ; but you are old enough to take care of yourself. Amy, dear, promise me not to let that man come here any more! " In his eagerness he leaned forward and caught one of the girl's hands, hold- ing it firmly in both his own. His eyes gazed at her with an almost passionate pleading ; but it was a pleading which, instead of touching her heart, only made her wrath wax higher. She snatched her hand away, and looked at him with a glance which the poor fellow remembered long afterward. " I have borne a great deal from you," she said, " but I will not bear this ! You have no right to talk so to me ! If you want to make mischief, you had better go and tell papa that people are talking oh, how I hate them ! " she cried, with the small hands clinched, the bright eyes flashing fire ; " but it is useless to come to me. You are jealous of Mr. March- mont I dare you to deny it ! and that is what your warning means." " You are mistaken," said Hugh. " I am not jealous of him in the way you mean, but I am sure he will bring trouble on you, one way or another, if you don't take care. Do you know what has brought him to Edgerton, and keeps him here ? He is courting Miss "Waldron for her money some people say he is en- gaged to her and yet, while he is doing this, he comes day after day and spends hours here, pretending to hear you sing ! " "It is none of your business if he does! "cried Amy, exasperated beyond all thought of forbearance. "If you have nothing more agreeable to say than this, I I shall go into the house." "Never mind; I will spare you the trouble by going myself. I have to leave, anyway, for I have no time to spare from my painting. I only dropped in to tell you the news about Miss "Waldron's kindness. I have spoken the honest truth, and I wish oh ! I wish very much that you would heed it. Good-evening. I don't know when I can come again." He went away with a wistful look, which had no effect whatever upon Amy. She sent one scorching glance after the small, spare figure ; then, with a shiver of passion that shook her whole frame, burst into a storm of tears. Unconscious of the tempest he left behind, Hugh passed through the garden and into the house. He had long been in the habit of coming and going like one of the family, so no one regarded him at present except Felix, who' cried from the dining-room : " Come to supper. Hugh! "What are you going away for? And why don't Amy come in ? " "I don't care for supper to-night, Felix ; thank you ! " Hugh answered, as he let himself out of the front-door. He spoke so truly, that he did not even think of turning his steps toward his boarding-house, but walked slowly in the opposite direction, toward the sub- urbs of the town. Before he reached the open country the sunset splendor had faded, and only a faint, soft glow re- mained to show where it had been ; but the mingling of twilight and moonlight for in the eastern heavens hung the silver, three-quarter moon was very lovely, and might have tempted to linger- ing one less keenly alive to beauty. Yet, although he felt the beauty, it is certain that Hugh was not thinking of it. In truth, he could think of nothing save the scene in Mr. Keynolds's garden and Amy's passionate resentment of his warn- ing. He had considered deeply before he offered this warning, and, now that it had been received in such a manner, he hardly knew what else to do. He might speak to Mr. Reynolds, as Amy had an- grily suggested ; but would that help matters? Would his opinion be likely to have any weight with the musician ? while he felt certain that Amy would never forgive such a step. AFTER MANY DATS. "What can I do?" he thought. "Amy would not have been so angry if she was not beginning to care for the fellow ; and he may be a scoundrel of the worst kind, for all she ,knows. It seems to me that if he was not, he would surely think of the harm he is doing by filling her head with all manner of foolish ideas and hopes. But, then, some people never think of anything but amusing them- selves, and he may be one of that sort. What if I were to speak to him ? But I hardly think there would be any good in that ; and where would I find an oppor- tunity to do so ? " It was a boy's idea, altogether foolish and impractical, but Hugh could not ban- ish it from his mind after it had once suggested itself. Miss Waldron's words rose in his memory, " Some of us are very careless, but we often err more from want of thought than want of heart." Was it from want of thought that Marchmont was acting? If so, a word might be enough a word might rouse the chivalry of his nature, and make him, of his own accord, discontinue the visits that had already set the gossiping tongues at work. Hugh absently seated himself on a stile as he made these reflections, and, with his face turned to the fading glory of the west, he did not observe that a pedestrian was crossing the field behind him a man young, slender, well-dressed in a word, Brian Marchmont. This gentleman had left Cedarwood a few minutes before, pleading an en- gagement in Edgerton which would not allow him to accept the general's hospita- ble invitation to remain to dinner ; and as he walked across the sweet-smelling fields in the soft gloaming, he had a com- fortable sense of satisfaction with regard to his affairs, immediate and future. He had very nearly won all that he desired from Miss Waldron, and he felt thor- oughly assured that securing her definite promise to be his wife was only a ques- tion of time. Then, breaking the monotony of courtship, there was Amy pretty, win- some Amy to amuse his leisure hours with the piquant flavor of her Bohenri- anism. " The blossoms of the garden are all very well," he said to himself, "espe- cially such a stately rose as Beatrix ; but variety is the spice of life, and now and then one likes to gather a wild-flower from the woods." Owing to the association of ideas, he was, half unconsciously, humming one of Amy's songs as he drew near the stile a song which Hugh knew so well that, hearing it, he turned abruptly and faced the man who was at that moment in his thoughts. The boy's heart seemed to rise up in his throat. Here, in the most unexpected manner, was the opportunity he had been esteeming out of his reach ! Should he use it ? He had only a minute in which to answer this question. There was no time for reasoning or reflection ; instinct alone had to settle the matter, and instinct bade him act. He stepped down from the stile, and as Marchmont, having swung himself over, was about to pass without the least token of recognition, he gathered his courage, and said : " If you will excuse me, Mr. March- mont, I should like to speak to you." Marchmont paused, and, with a great deal of hauteur mingled with surprise on his face, he said, curtly : " What do you want ? " " I will tell you in an instant what I want," Hugh replied. " First, let me say that my name is Dinsmore." " I remember you," Marchmont an- swered. " I never forget a face. Pray, Mr. Dinsmore, what possible business have you with me ? " There was so much Irusquerie in the tone of this question, that Hugh felt in- clined to reply, " I have no business what- ever," and go his way. But the thought of Amy checked the impulse. "SO LONG AS YOU ARE AMUSED." 43 There was nothing he would not en- dure for her sake ; and surely if this man knew the harm he was working, his man- hood would assert itself in her behalf, and he would find some amusement for his idle hours fraught with less serious consequences. This consideration gave Hugh patience, and, lifting his clear eyes to the haughty, handsome face, he said, calmly : " My business with you is simply this : I am a friend of Amy Reynolds, and I want to tell you that you are doing her a great injury in bestowing so much time and attention on her. Gossips are al- ready beginning to talk about it, and a man like you must know what a misfor- tune it is to a young girl for her name to be on light tongues and in evil mouths." "By Jove! " said Marchmont. The exclamation was entirely involun- tary, and addressed to himself, being an expression of irrepressible surprise at the audacity of this shabby stripling. Then he laughed, and the scornful, contempt- uous cadence made every drop of blood in Hugh's veins tingle. "My young friend," he said, coolly, "allow me to inform you that the best thing you can do is to attend to your own affairs. I have no doubt you are very jealous, but you can hardly expect to serve your cause by such absurdity as this. Pretty little Amy and I understand each other ; that ought to be enough. If it is not, so much the worse for you." With these words he was passing care- lessly on, when Hugh, quivering with in- dignation and fearless as a lion, placed himself in his path. "Do you mean that you do not care what people say of Amy, so long as you are amused ? " he asked. " If that is the case, I tell you to your face, Mr. March- mont, that you are no gentleman ! You know that you want to marry Miss Wal- dron, and yet you are trying to win Amy's heart in the most dishonorable" "You are an insolent young fool!" said Marchmont. He had no cane in his hand, else Hugh might have fared badly ; but, slight as he looked, he was very muscular, and taking the boy by the collar, he flung him with great force into the middle of the road. Then, without pausing to see what was the result of this stringent measure, he walked on rapidly toward the town. Hugh lay motionless where he had been thrown stunned into unconscious- ness by the heavy fall and he had not yet stirred when, a minute later, a horse- man came cantering down the road. The horse first perceived the odd, dark, crumpled heap lying in the moon- light, and promptly bolted. His rider, having checked him up shortly, looked round for the cause of the fright. He, too, perceived then the dark figure, and muttering, "Some drunkard lying there to be run over," dismounted, and throw- ing the rein over his arm, approached, and, bending down, lifted the boy's face. " What Dinsmore ! " he said aloud, in a tone of surprise. "Why, he is badly hurt ! " he added, quickly, as he found his hand wet from the blood which was trick- ling from a cut on the forehead. As he spoke Hugh's consciousness re- turned, and, opening his eyes, he looked up, half dazed. " I want no assistance from you, Mr. Marchmont," he said. " You are a cow- ard." "I am not Mr. Marchmont," said a voice that recalled his scattered senses. " I found you lying here insensible. .What has happened, Hugh ? " " Oh, you are Mr. Archer," said Hugh. " I beg your pardon. Have I been here long, I wonder? Thank you, I think I can get up." With Archer's assistance he rose to his feet, and, though still trembling from the nervous shock, stood erect, stanching with a handkerchief the blood which flowed from the cut on his brow. "What has happened?" Archer re- peated. "How did you come to be in such a situation? Lucky for you, my 44 AFTER MANY DAYS. horse bolted, or I should have ridden over you, for I was looking toward the lights of the town, and noticing little of the road." There was an instant's silence hefore Hugh answered. Then he looked up and said, quietly : " I would rather not tell you anything about it, Mr. Archer. I am obliged to you. for helping me. I think I can walk back into town now." "You had better ride my horse," said Archer, looking at him keenly. "You have had a severe blow." "Only from the fall," said Hugh. " There is no need for me to ride, thank you. I am used to walking, and I shall be all right in a little while." Archer did not press the matter any further indeed, it was never his way to press anything .on people which they were unwilling to receive. But, as he mounted his horse and rode away, he felt consider- ably puzzled. The last person in the world whom he would have supposed Hugh likely to come in contact with was Brian Marchmont ; yet Hugh had plainly mistaken him for Marchmont, and had uttered words not easily forgotten. " He meant them, too," Archer said to him- self. "It is very odd! I* Marchmont was the person who knocked him down and left him senseless, what could possi- bly have been the provocation ? Surely I did not make a mistake when I recom- mended the boy to Miss "Waldron ! Every one speaks of him as quiet and inoffensive in the. extreme." Having left Hugh without even a backward glance to see whether or not he recovered from the stunning fall he had received, Mr. Marchmont walked into Edg- erton, his usually well -moderated pulses beating with an excitement which, to say the least, was not pleasurable. This was a result he had not bargained for while spending the idle hours in light flirtation with the musician's pretty daughter. To be called to account by "an insolent errand-boy," as in his thoughts he characterized Hugh, was cer- tainly a novel and not an agreeable expe- rience. He laughed over it, but the laugh had no ring of real mirth. With the best intentions, Hugh had done the worse thing possible for Amy; he had waked the slumbering devil in Marchmont's nature. and converted what had before been only amusement into deadly earnest. It was, however, characteristic of the sybarite nature of the man that he shook off annoyances as a Newfoundland dog shakes off water ; though putting aside the annoyance by no means implied put- ting aside the purpose it had wakened. His engagement in Edgerton was with two or three gay young gentlemen who chanced to be passing through the town friends, or at least intimate acquaintances, whom he had accidentally encountered. In the course of the convivial evening which en- sued, no one entertained the faintest sus- picion that anything had occurred to ruf- fle the easy tranquillity of his spirits or cast the least weight upon his mind. In truth, Mr. Marchmont's spirits and mind were not readily affected by insignificant trifles, and in this class he included his flirtation with Amy, and Hugh's interfer- ence therewith. Had Amy been aware of this, she might have spared herself some Juliet-like fancies, as she sat by the parlor-window, looking at the moon sailing through an iris sky, while silver lights and broad, sharp- cut shadows made up the world below. Immersed in clouds of tobacco-smoke, her father and Herr Meerbach were talk- ing, while Felix, with a touch of masterly power and sweetness, was playing the " "Walpurgis Night." The dreamy strains floated by Amy almost unheard. Her heart the foolish heart of sixteen was throbbing with pain and doubt. Could it be true that Marchmont was a suitor of Miss "Waldron's? Hugh had said so ; but Hugh was not likely to be well informed with regard to such mat- ters, and, besides, he was jealous. " I cannot believe it ! " she thought, MR. TRAFFORD OFFERS ADVICE. 45 passionately ; then, with a spasmodic effort, common-sense asserted itself, as she added, mentally, " What is it to me ? Mr. Marchmont has never done anything except admire my singing and say I am pretty. I am a fool to think anything about him, or care if he marries Miss Waldron to-morrow ! She is rich and handsome, and has been everywhere and seen everything. Oh ! " the long- drawn sigh ending in spoken words ' : I wish I was rich ! " "Perhaps you may be, some day," said a quiet, unexpected voice very near at hand. CHAPTER IX. ME. TRAFFORD OFFERS ADVICE. AMY started, and turned her head ; but it was no Mephistopheles who stood at her elbow, ready to gratify her long- ings by driving a bargain for the ultimate possession of her soul. As far removed as possible from that sulphuric personage was the pleasant, good-humored face that met her glance the face of a gentleman who had paused by the window and looked with amusement at the pretty, wistful countenance on which the moonlight fell broadly. "O Mr. Trafford!" she said; "I didn't know I spoke so loud that any one could hear my foolish wish ! " "Not any one," replied Mr. Trafford, " but I was close at hand, and so I heard it. I am not sure about its foolishness," he added, smiling. " Wishing for riches is sometimes a first step toward obtaining them." " I shall be rich some day," said Amy, confidently. "I am certain of that. But I want to be so now." " You want the prize before you have won it ? I am surprised at you ! " He spoke in a tone of half-laughing banter, as to a child ; but Amy looked up gravely in his face. " I was reading, the other day," she said, " that alter we have worked a long time for a prize, when at last we gain it, it has lost its value. If we could only have things at the start, and not wait to be tired out, how much better it would be!" " Well," said Mr. Trafford, with a long puff at the meerschaum which, as usual, he was smoking, "I am not sure about that. Without being much of a moralist, I have generally found that there's a good reason for most things. If we gained what we desire ' at the start,' as you say, we should not only miss the discipline of labor, but often get a great many worth- less prizes. Suppose you come and take a turn round the square, and I will give you an instance of that from my personal experience? " Amy was nothing loath. She was tired of the house and everybody in it. There was something of novelty in a moonlight stroll with Mr. Trafford, and his promise to relate a " personal experi- ence " wakened her curiosity. She slipped out of the parlor, and in a minute stood on the pavement by his side. "Had you not better put something on your head ? " he suggested, looking at her. "N"o? It is true, you have no neu- ralgia or rheumatism to dread yet a while. I hope you don't object to my pipe? I came out to smoke." She laughed. " I've been sitting in a room with two pipes," she said, "so I could hardly object to one in the open air. I rather like the odor of good tobac- co, if there isn't too much of it. Oh, what a heavenly night ! " she added, with a soft sigh. "Very pretty," said Mr. Trafford, glancing round. " To-morrow night the moon will be full." " I am always sorry for the moon to be full," said Amy, "because then it be- gins to decline. I wish matters had been arranged so that we could have a moon all the time." " It is a pity you couldn't live on the 46 AFTER MANY DAYS. planet Saturn. Then you would have moons enough." " I shouldn't care for more than one at a time," said Amy; but fearing that the extreme haziness of her ideas with regard to the moons of the planet Saturn might be exposed, she turned the conver- sation. " You promised to tell me your experience about worthless prizes," she said, glancing up at her companion. " Yes," he answered, a little absently. They were walking slowly along the moonlit street, and he gazed ahead with- out speaking for a minute or two. Then he smiled. " I haven't thought about it for years before," he said. " How old are you, my dear? Sixteen? Well, double your age which, I suppose, you don't consider a pleasant thing to do, even in imagination and you'll have the num- ber of years which have elapsed since I was a young man, in love with a girl only a little older than yourself. It seems odd, doesn't it ? " rolling out a cloud of smoke as he met Amy's eyes, full of curiosity " but it is true, and I can't flatter myself that I was any less a fool than young men are nowadays. I was desperately in love, and desperately poor. Having re- ceived an assurance of affection and con- stancy from the object of my passion, however, the labor of making a fortune seemed a trifle hardly worth considering. "When I set to work I naturally discovered my mistake ; but I struggled on, and by the time I was half-way up the hill which I proposed to climb, the girl to whom I was engaged grew tired of waiting, and married another man." "She jilted you! Oh, how shame- ful ! " cried Amy. Mr. Trafford removed his pipe from his mouth to laugh. " I mustn't obtain your sympathy under false pretenses," he said. " She dissolved the engagement in the most reasonable manner, and married a man who had a fortune in hand without the trouble of making it. I don't remem- ber that I suffered from the disease known as heart-break in any excessive degree; but I do remember that, by the time I reached the top of the hill, I was heartily obliged to her for having bestowed her- self upon somebody else, since life which is like a crucible, to show what is base metal and what gold had proved that she was a weak, extravagant woman, of bad temper and lax principles. Now, you see, if J had possessed my fortune at the start, I should have been burdened with that woman even to the present day, for she is not dead yet." " I see," said Amy. " How glad you must be to have missed her ! But, as far as my wish is concerned," she added, re- alizing that the moral of the story was intended for her benefit, " there would be nothing of that kind to fear. If I were rich, I should be able to help other people to send Felix to Germany, to let papa rest, to give TiTariette and the boys every advantage." "Ah!" said Mr. Trafford. "I sup- pose you were thinking of these things when I overheard that wish you uttered so fervently a little while ago ? " Even in the moonlight Amy's deep blush was manifest. " No," she said, af- ter a moment's hesitation, "I was not thinking of them. A something made me think of Miss Waldron, and I wished I had money to go everywhere, and be- come accomplished and graceful, and be admired as she is." "And fall a prey to some fortune- hunter, as she will probably do. How- would you like that? " " Why should you think she will prob- ably do it? " said Amy, ignoring the ques- tion addressed to herself. "Why should I think so? That is easily answered : ' Alas ! alas ! for the woman's fate Who has from a mob to choose a mate ! 'Tis a strange and painful mystery ! But the more the eggs, the worse the hatch ; The more the fish, the worse the catch; The more the sparks, the worse the match Is a fact in woman's history ! ' " Amy was quite astonished at this sud- MR. TRAFFORD OFFERS ADVICE. den "dropping into poetry" on the part of her elderly friend, and, having never read " Miss Killmansegg and her Precious Leg," the verso had the merit of novelty to her. " I have heard the proverb about tak- ing a crooked stick at last," she said. " I suppose it amounts to the same thing. But do you know of anybody Miss Wal- dron is likely to marry just just now?" " I have not the least knowledge of Miss "Waldron's affairs, matrimonial or otherwise," replied Mr. Trafford. " I have heard some gossip about a young man named Marchmont. By-the-by, haven't you a slight acquaintance with him ? On the whole, my dear if you will excuse a bit of advice I think you would do well to keep it a slight." "Do do you know any harm of him? " asked Amy. Her voice quivered, but there was none of the defiance in it which had breathed for Hugh. "I know no harm of him," answered Mr. Trafford; "but I suppose you have heard of the spider and the fly. No doubt the spider was very good-looking, and pleasant, but the fly was very silly, for all that. I should not like you to be such a fly." " There isn't any danger of it," said Amy, and a chord of indignation thrilled in her tone. "I hope not," said her companion. "Now tell me about this plan of your father's for sending your brother to Ger- many. Why does he not do it ? The boy's talent ought to be cultivated." " I should think you might know why he doesn't do it," answered Amy. " He has not the money." " It would not take much," said Mr. Trafford. " That depends on how you look at it," said Amy. " It might not seem much to you, but to papa it seems a great deal. You see " a sigh " it is awfully expen- sive to have a family ! " "I suppose so," said Mr. Trafford, with a laugh that made some loiterers on the other side of the street turn their heads. "When a man has none, how- ever, it is only fair that he should help the over-burdened people who have. Do you think your father would be offended if I offered to send your brother abroad ? " " Offended ! " Amy stopped short and clasped her hands. " O Mr. Trafford ! are you in earnest? Would you really do it? I think papa would accept such an offer gratefully, because, you see, it is Felix you would benefit, not him and I should worship you ! " "Would you? Well, then, it is a bargain. Here we are at the house. Kun in and see if that German has gone. If he has, I'll speak to your father at once." Luckily, " that German " was gone if he had still been in the house, Amy would have been tempted to take him by the shoulders and put him "out and, more luckily still, Felix had accompanied him, while Mr. Keynolds remained at home. It was the hand of the older musician which was lingering over the keys in the dimly-lighted parlor when Amy entered, in a fever of excitement. "O papa! " she cried, "Mr. Trafford is here, and he wants to speak to you on very particular business." "Ask him to come in," said Mr. Rey- nolds, rising from the piano and fortify- ing himself by the thought that he did not owe Mr. Trafford any money, so " very particular business " could not have that significance. Mr. Trafford came in, and, like a man of business, went directly to his point; yet there was a delicacy in his mode of doing this, which proved that his nature was not without a certain fineness which many estimable natures lack. " He had a large income," he said, "no near relations, and very few person- al wants, so that Mr. Eeynolds would confer a favor if he would allow him to bear the expense of sending Felix to Ger- 48 AFTER MANY DAYS. many, and providing for his musical edu- cation after he reached there." Mr. Eeynolds, who had been talking over the question of expenses with Herr Meerbach, and had realized with a sense of despair that his narrow means could not possibly be stretched to cover them, felt as if the heavens opened and an angel suddenly spoke to him. For a minute he could not answer ; but, though usually one of the most undemonstrative of men, he seized Mr. Trafford's hand and wrung it until that gentleman very nearly groaned aloud. By the time Felix returned, the matter had been settled, and there were tears on his father's lashes when he put his arm round the boy's neck and told him the wonderful news. It was still wonderful news news that seemed almost too good to be true when Amy sat on the back piazza the next morning, and, while the sunbeams played in and out among the meshes of her curly hair, virtuously proceeded to darn Felix's socks. "If he is going away so soon, I must put his clothes in order," she had said to herself on waking, and it was in this manner .she se * about that arduous task. Amy's darning was very far from the perfection of art, but there was a great deal of good intention in the bungling stitches ; and as her needle traveled back and forth, she was saying to herself, like a charm to keep weariness at bay, " Felix is going to Germany ! " On this refrain the sudden jingle of the door-bell broke sharply. Down went needle and thread and sock ; up sprang Amy, color flashing into her face, light into her eyes. " Callers " were unknown at the Reynolds house, therefore the person who rang in that imperative fashion could only be some one on business as, for instance, the gro- cer's boy with the grocer's small account or Marchmont. Hope whispered strongly that it might be the latter ; so Amy sped to the door and opened it, as once before, with trem- bling fingers. As once before, she encountered dis- appointment. Instead of Marchmont's handsome face appeared the black coun- tenance of a well-dressed servant, who, almost without glancing at her, asked, rapidly : " Is Miss Eeynolds at home ? " " Yes, I am Miss Eeynolds," answered Amy. " What do you " She stopped in her question, for, as she turned, she saw that a carriage was standing before the door a carriage from which a lady bowed, and then, as the servant approached, descended. "It is Miss Waldron," said Amy to herself. " What on earth can she want ? " Miss Waldron, when they met, shook hands and uttered her greetings in her usual pleasant, kindly fashion, but she was struck the while by the transfor- mation in Amy's appearance since she had last seen her at anything like close quarters. In fact, Amy was at the age when a girl often astonishes even the members of her family by shooting, in a day, from childhood to womanhood. The pliant, rounded figure had gained slender- ness and grace ; the piquant face, woman- ly expression. Miss Waldron was so much struck, that she was almost guilty of staring after they entered the dingy parlor, and she was enthroned on the dingy horse-hair sofa. "What a Hebe!" she was thinking, while she made a few commonplace in- quiries and remarks. These over, she said, frankly : " My dear, I am told that you have a beautiful voice, and I have come to ask if you will sing for me ? " Amy blushed vividly, not so much from the compliment as because the thought instantly occurred to her that only one person could have told Miss Waldron about her voice. " I am very willing to sing for you," she answered; and, rising, she turned to the music-stand, glad of an excuse to escape from the MR. TRAFFORD OFFERS ADVICE. 49 glance of the kind but keen dark eyes. " Would you like any particular song? " she asked, after a minute Lad elapsed, broken only by the nutter of the sheet- music. " Not any," Miss Waldron answered. " Choose what you like best and can sing best." So Amy chose the song she had learned last, and with her rendering of which both her father and Marchrnont had professed themselves entirely satisfied. It was the beautiful music which Kubinstein has set to those exquisite words of Heine's, "Thou'rt like unto a flower." At the first clear note Miss "Waldron lifted her eyebrows, and as the full com- pass and exquisite quality of the voice displayed itself, she rose in uncontrollable amazement and walked to the piano. " Beautiful ! " she cried, when the song ended " that is no term at all for your voice ! It is marvelous ! I had no idea of anything like it, though Mr. March- mont did say that you were a future suc- cessor of Nilsson and Patti." "Did he say that to youf" asked Amy, quickly. Then she blushed again; but, with a self-possession that did her credit, considering her sixteen years and limited opportunities, she added, " Mr. Marchmont has said some very kind things to me ; but people often say such things just to be pleasant, without exactly mean- ing them." "I think he meant them all," said Miss "Waldron, looking at her ; and, as she looked, it suddenly occurred to the young lady to wonder what that " all " included. Could any son of Adam gaze into that face without admiring its fairness? and would not most sons of Adam utter this admiration freely to a girl so young and so unprotected ? Miss Waldron was a woman of the world, and she knew that it was hardly likely Marchmont had limited his appre- ciation to the voice of the future successor of Nilsson and Patti. This thought flashed through her mind while she was uttering a few more words of sincere praise, after which she added : " I am sorry I have not time to ask you to sing another song for me this morning, but I shall not be satisfied until I hear you again. My object in coming was to ask a favor of you a favor which I am more anxious for you to grant since I have heard your voice. I am to give a kind of fete half ball, half concert on the tenth of May, and I shall be obliged if you will promise to sing on that occasion." So gracious was the tone of this re- quest, so entirely free from any suspicion of patronage, that Amy's first sensation was one of rapture. The prospect of going to the Cedar- wood fete was in itself ecstatic enough, but the thought of singing in public thrilled her heart to the core. Her eyes expanded, her lips sprang apart: "Oh!" she cried, "I shall be very, very glad to do so' if papa will let me." There was a great change of tone and expression ia the last words a change which made Miss Waldron smile. "Do you think Mr. Reynolds will object ? " she asked. " I am afraid he will," answered Amy. " Then I must try my powers of per- suasion upon him, and I think I shall suc- ceed in making him consent. It will be an excellent opportunity for your debut, and so I shall tell him." "My debut! How delightful that sounds ! " cried the girl, with sparkling eyes. "Eather a tame debut compared to what you will have some day," answered Miss Waldron. " But no doubt you will enjoy it; there is delight in the mere exercise of such a power as yours, I should think. Now I must say good-morning. I am very glad I came." Glad she came ! What was her glad- ness compared to that of Amy, who, after the carriage had rolled away, clapped her hands over her head, and cried : " Life has begun ! I knew it would! " 50 AFTER MANY DAYS. CHAPTER X. "l WANDERED BY THE BROOKSIDE." LIFE began in such earnest for Amy, that the next few days went by like a dream. Mr. Reynolds, moved to unwont- ed amiability by the fact that Felix was going to Germany, consented for her to sing at Miss Waldron's./2fe; but over and above the pleasure of practising for this, and the arrangement of a toilet for the occasion, was the strange, new delight which had come into her existence with Brian Marchmont. The girl was so young and inexperienced, that not all her native shrewdness availed to save her from the fate of those who love not wisely but too well. It may be said, in palliation of her folly, that Marchmont was one of the men whom Nature gifts with exceptional powers of fascination, and that his suc- cess with women was proverbial among all who knew him. " He has a knack of making them fall in love with him ! " his friends would remark to one another ; and Marchmont himself certainly was not ignorant of his attractive qualities. There is no denying that, after his un- fortunate encounter with Hugh Dins- more, he exerted these qualities to the utmost with Amy, resolutely thrusting aside any suggestion which prudence or conscience made. The last was too well trained to trouble him, while with regard to the first he said, with an impetuosity which was occasionally one of his characteristics, that there was only spice enough of risk to give zest to the affair, and that it was a risk well worth running, since he had not been so interested before for years. " By heaven ! that little witch is ten times more piquant and charming than any or all of .the society-bred women with whom I am acquainted," he said to himself. " If she were in the remotest degree eligible, I might be tempted to think that I had found my fate at last." So it came to pass that Amy was led she did not pause to consider where. Those hours "in the dingy parlor when she sang for Marchmont, those hours in the neglected garden when they sat under the trees where white blossoms had given place to green leaves, and those golden hours when they wandered through the lovely spring woods, all did their work thoroughly. If any thought of warning ever came to her, she put it away. The cup of nectar which was held to her lips she drank eagerly, without pausing to con- sider the consequences. Like a flower exposed to a tropical sun, she seemed to grow lovelier and more mature every hour ; but there was no mother's eye to note the change and read its meaning. Her father was absent during the greater part of every day, and, though he knew Marchmont as a stranger who had been much struck with Amy's voice and came occasionally to hear her sing, his daughter was still in his eyes so entirely a child, that he never thought of the re- sult which a woman would have been quick to foresee. One thing which conduced to this state of security was the caution which Marchmont had of late displayed in the matter of his visits. He seldom came to the house, preferring to meet Amy in some place like the woodland glen where he first saw her remote from the eyes of gossips. It was not so much Hugh's expostulation which led to this, as a few words which Miss Waldron ut- tered. " I went, this morning, to hear your soprano sing," she said to him, on the evening of the day when she paid her visit to Amy ; " and you are right about her voice it is wonderful ! But you did not mention that her face is nearly as remarkable." To this Marchmont, whose self-pos- session was imperturbable, replied : " Yes, she is very pretty ; but I did not mention I WANDERED BY THE BROOKSIDE." 51 her face because I thought you knew all about her." "I know all about her in a certain way that is, I have seen her running about the streets ever since she was a lit- tle thing ; but I was not in the least aware until to-day that she had shot into a woman, or that she was so beautiful. Why, she fairly dazzled me when I first saw her in that dark, narrow passage! Hebe herself never had more delicious coloring; and I hope you don't mean me to believe that you have not gone there as much to admire that bewitching face as to hear her voice ! " There was no jealousy in the tone of this remark only a certain satirical amusement and it was accompanied by a smile which, defied contradiction. Marchmont, however, was not foolish enough to think of denying the charge. "I always admire beauty wherever I find it," he said, calmly, " and this girl has genuine beauty. But there are plenty of pretty girls in the world, and it is only her voice which has attracted me, and made me spend some idle hours for I can't possibly bore you with my presence all the time, and Edgerton is a desert to me in her father's house." " I suppose there is no harm in hear- ing her sing," said Miss Waldron, " but the girl is so singularly pretty, that I am afraid you may be tempted to amuse these idle hours by flirting with her. Nay, don't look so virtuous ; I know the world, and I know the habits of the men of the world like you, sir ! What I wish to re- quest is, that you will forego this amuse- ment for my sake, if you please. I do not want that bright face shadowed be- fore its time. Will you promise to let her alone J" " I will promise never to see her again, if you like," he answered, carelessly; " but I think you overrate my power of doing mischief, and I am sure yon over- rate my intentions. Let me tell you that a man only flirts when his heart is empty never when it is filled by " "Oh, never mind about that!" she interrupted, with impatience. " 1 am not interested in your heart, but in your conduct; and I desire you not to flirt with this child." " And I answer to that, as to any other command you choose to lay upon me : To hear is to obey." " I hope that I may trust you to obey," she said, looking at him steadily ; and he felt a conviction that he must be careful, for this woman was no fond fool, who could be hoodwinked at a man's pleasure. It chanced that among the guests din- ing at Cedarwood that evening was Mr. Trafford, and at this point he crossed the floor and installed himself in a large chair by the side of his young hostess. " I suppose you are aware that you have made one person very happy to- day, Miss Waldron," he said, after a few preliminary remarks ; while Marchmont mentally confounded his impudence, yet feared to go away, not knowing what report might be made behind his back ; so he sat still, stroking his mustache, and looking supercilious a look entirely wasted on Mr. Trafford. " Have I ? " said Beatrix. " I am glad to hear it; but I do not know to whom you allude." " Are you, then, in the habit of mak- ing people happy?" he asked. "If so, you are a very wise young lady and, I may add, an uncommon one." " I should like to feel that I deserve such commendation," she answered, " but' I really do not. It is very rarely that it is in my power to make any one happy, and to-day " " To-day you have invited a little girl to sing for you who will probably, before she dies, sing for royal personages and have thereby given her more pleasure than the kings and queens will ever be- stow." " Do you mean Amy Reynolds ? Is it possible that you know her ? " said Miss Waldron, astonished, and beginning to think that Amy must be growing famous, AFTER MANY DAYS. since this orderly man of business was acquainted with her. He smiled. " 1 board at Mrs. Crenshaw's," he said, "and am, therefore, a next-door neighbor of Mr. Eejnolds. The gardens of the two houses adjoin, and occasionally I look over the wall as Mr. Marchmont is aware." Mr. Marchmont managed to appear more indifferent than he felt. " I remember you astonished me very much by looking over the wall one after- noon," he said. " That occasion served as a warning tome," responded Mr. Trafford. " Find- ing that I was likely to disturb interesting conversations, I have, since then, refrained from entering an appearance unless I had good reasons for believing that the coast was clear. This afternoon, however, I heard such a tide of melody rising from the garden, that I felt constrained to glance over and ask what had inspired the song- stress. Then I was told the story of your invitation," he said, looking at Miss Wal- dron. " I am pleased to have made the child happy," she said. "I heard her voice this morning for the first time, and was amazed by it ! " " It is a wonderful voice," said Mr. Trafford. "She will make a sensation when she appears on the stage." " I wish she could be saved from that," said Miss Waldron. " She is so young, so pretty ! " "Saved from it!" repeated March- mont, with a laugh. " I do not think she would be obliged to any one who saved her. She pants for the triumph and ex- citement and splendor before her." "Yes, it would be altogether useless to attempt to induce her, for any object whatever, to resign the career she has de- termined upon," said Mr. Trafford, with such a thorough air of knowing all about the matter that Miss "Waldron betrayed in her face the surprise she felt. At this moment General Waldron came up and carried the elder gentleman off to a whist-table, greatly to Marchmont's relief ; but the evil star of the latter was plainly in the ascendant, for who should advance to take the vacant seat but Arch- er, whose first remark was : "I have not been able to ask before, Miss "Waldron, what you thought of the boy whom I sent here by your request? " "Have I not yet thanked you for exe- cuting my commission so well ? " she re- plied, with a smile. "I was exceedingly pleased with him. He is talented and modest and honest, I am sure." " He certainly bears an excellent char- acter, so far as I can learn," said Archer, " and, as I told you, deserves encourage- ment." "Then," said Marchmont, speaking on an impulse of irritation which he could not restrain, " you will have the satisfac- tion of feeling yourself accountable if your protege walks away with a valuable picture which Miss "Waldron has intrusted to him. " The miniature of my great-great- grandmother," said Beatrix, as Archer looked at her. " Mr. Marchmont thinks I have been imprudent ; but it was impos- sible to look in that boy's clear eyes with- out feeling convinced of his integrity." " Clear eyes are not always proofs of integrity," said Archer, smiling. "Per- haps Mr. Marchmont distrusts the boy be- cause he knows something of him," he added, glancing at Marchmont with a keenness which that gentleman felt and resented. " I know that he is an errand-boy, or something of the kind, in Mr. Lathrop's business-house," he answered, somewhat haughtily. "My knowledge of him be- gins and ends with that fact." " It seems to me that I know more of him," said Miss Waldron, musingly. " I mean, that he is connected with some one ah, I have it! His face was in a meas- ure familiar to me, but I could not place it. Now I remember that I have often seen him with Amy Reynolds. I wonder I WANDERED BY THE BROOKSIDE." 53 if he is in love with her ! What a charm- ing match they would make ! " " Who, Beatrix ? " asked a young lady not far off, attracted by the animated tone in which these words were pro- nounced. " No one in whom you are interested, my dear," answered Beatrix. "Don't you think my idea is a good one, Mr. Marchmont ? Two artistic souls who be- gin in Bohemia and end where shall we say?" " Where, indeed ? " said Marchmont, who could not repress his disgust. " The idea is sacrilege ! The lout is no doubt in love with pretty Amy, but she is " He paused, conscious that Archer was regarding him with a rather peculiar gaze. "Does she not like him ? " asked Miss Waldron. "What a pity! ' But 'tis just these women's way, All the same this wide world over ; Fooled by what's most worthless, they Cheat in turn the honest lover.' " " If a man had ventured to quote those sentiments, you would have called him a slanderer," said Archer. " A man wrote them," she answered, "but I fear, alas! he was not a slander- er." When Marchmont went away from Cedarwood that night, he told himself that he must be more cautious in his flir- tation with the unfledged prima donna. He was in a position where he could not afford to lose the substance of what he most desired for a shadow, however sweet and fair that shadow might be. Yet several reasons made it impossible for him to obey Miss Waldron's request and let Amy alone. For one thing, Amy had grown necessary to his amusement. He was oddly conscious of being restless and ill at ease, "like a boy in love," he thought scornfully, when he did not see her ; and he was far too much of an epi- curean to deny himself any pleasure with- in his reach. Then, Hugh's presumption was to be punished in the way Hugh would feel most, and well, there were manifold reasons why matters should go on a little longer exactly as they were. " After the fete I will make Beatrix give me a definite answer, and then I wiJl go away for a while," he thought. " That will end everything best." It was an eminently masculine deci- sion, and, having made it, Mr. March- mont felt relieved in mind. So the idle days went on in their accustomed fashion. April sun and rain made the earth more lovely every hour, and when May came, crowned with a thousand flowers, Nature seemed to welcome her favorite child with an ecstasy of rejoicing. Into Amy's small chamber the sun- shine streamed in a tide of golden bright- ness one afternoon, and found her stand- ing before the mirror, trying on a hat which she had just trimmed. It was ex- quisitely fresh and pretty, though fash- ioned of the simplest materials, and the face beneath it was lovely as any blossom of the May so lovely, that it smiled with pleasure at its own reflection. "Are you going to walk, Amy?" in- quired a small, eager voice at the half- open door. " May I go with you? " "No, Mariette, you may not," an- swered Amy, with decision. "I am going out on business. You must stay at home, like a good girl, until I come back. Oh, for pity's sake, don't cry ! " as Mariette's face puckered up ominously. " You may have anything in the house to play with, if you'll only stay and keep quiet." " I'd rather go ! " said Mariette, not much impressed with this sweeping offer. " But you can't go ! " said Amy. Then, to cut the discussion short, she snatched her parasol and ran down-stairs. When Mariette heard the house-door close, she lifted up her voice in bewail- ing ; but there is little pleasure in crying unless somebody can be disturbed, and in the present instance there was nobody to be disturbed, for Clara the only person 54 AFTER MANY DAYS. left in the house was too deaf to hear the tearless howls ; consequently they soon ceased, and remembering Amy's permis- sion with regard to having anything she liked to play with, Mariette looked 'round to see what she would choose. It did not take her long to decide, for Amy's treasures were few a toilet-box, an al- bum, usually kept out of her reach, to- gether with a few old-fashioned, gor- geously bound annuals that had belonged to Mrs. Keynolds. On these she laid her hands, and, having piled them carefully in her apron and gathered up the hem to form a bag, she proceeded down-stairs. It chanced that Amy, on going out, closed the house-door so carelessly behind her, that it had swung open again ; and when Mariette came round the curve of the staircase, she was surprised to see a tall, handsome lady in glistening silk standing on the threshold. Such a vis- itor was so unexpected that the little maiden's eyes opened wide, and, in her haste to descend more rapidly, the arti- cles in her apron slipped out of the cor- ner thereof and came crashing down- stairs before her. "I expected that," said the lady, advancing. Then, with ber delicately gloved hands, she picked up one or two of the books. "You should not try to carry so many things at once," she said. " "What are you going to do with these ? " " I am going to take them in the gar- den, and play keeping store with Hetty Crenshaw," replied Mariette, looking up with great, blue, unabashed eyes. "Amy said I might have anything I liked to play with. Do you want to see Amy ? She's gone out." " I am sorry for that," said Miss "Wal- dron f or it was she smiling, and think- ing how very pretty the child was. Al- most unconsciously &he added, "Where has Amy gone ? ". Mariette set her ringleted head on one side with an air of wisdom. "I don't know exactly," she answered. "Amy said she was going out on busi- ness, but I expect she went to walk with Mr. Marchmont ; she almost always does." This was information Miss "Waldron had not anticipated, and the blood rushed to her cheek as if she had been detected in something unworthy. It was evident that she could have learned anything else that Mariette knew, but, instead of asking further questions, she opened her card- case and drew out a card. " Give that to your sister," she said, "and tell her that I came to make some arrangements about the fete. Good-by, and don't try to carry so many books again." She was passing out, when Mariette espied a bit of pasteboard lying at the foot of the staircase, which she immedi- ately seized. "Did you drop this? " she asked, run- ning after Miss "Waldron, who turned, glanced at the card, hesitated an instant, then took it. On one side was Brian Marchmont's name ; on the other a pressed fern was pinned, and written underneath, in an un- formed, girlish hand, were a date and four words : " The beginning of life." Mariette wondered what made the lady silent for a minute a minute, during which she gazed at this which had oddly drifted into her hands. She knew at once that it had fallen from one of the books Mariette dropped, but she also knew that in a certain sense it was hers, since the date proved that this was the fern she had given Marchmont on the day when he asked her to be his wife. Her resolution was quickly taken. The proud lips set themselves with a cer- tain defiant firmness, as she opened her card-case and slipped the waif of senti- ment within. " Thank you, my dear," she said, and went away. Amy, meanwhile, had left the streets behind and walked toward the woods, which at the present season were full of the freshest, sweetest beauty of spring. "I WANDERED BY THE BROOKSIDE.' 55 About a quarter of a mile beyond the out- skirts of the town she reached a creek, overhung by trees and draped with the vines that make Southern water-courses so wonderfully picturesque. Turning from the road, which crossed a bridge here, she tripped lightly along the bank of the stream for some distance, with a look of expectation in her eyes a look which suddenly changed to delight as, not far off, she saw a slender, shapely, masculine figure, clad in cool gray, lying on the green .bank under the shade of overhanging boughs, while a fishing-rod was propped against a tree near by, and obligingly leaned forward so that its line touched the water. The hat of the gentleman was pulled over his eyes, so that he would hardly have been the wiser for a dozen bites ; but he heard Amy's step, and, springing up, met her with both hands outstretched in eager welcome all listlessness gone out of his handsome face, his hat pushed back, showing the damp, dark curls that clustered round his forehead. " So you have come at last! " he said, smiling. " I have been waiting and watch- ing for an hour at least." "You may have been waiting," said Amy, saucily, "but you certainly were not watching. I thought, when I came in sight, that you were asleep." " I think I was asleep, and dreaming of you. But your step would wake me out of the deepest sleep that humanity knows. Don't you remember what the lover says in ' Maud ' ? ' She is coming, my own, my sweet 1 Was there ever so airy a tread ? My heart would hear it and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed ! ' " "How much of that must I believe ? " asked Amy, with a smile brimful of co- quetry. " I don't think hearts like yours beat much when they are out of an earthy bed, and therefore they are not likely to be disturbed when in it." He laughed more gayly than he was in the habit of laughing. " Have you an exhaustive knowledge of hearts like mine ? " he asked. " You talk like a llasee flirt of thirty, and the tone is very piquant on such childish lips." " Childish ! " repeated Amy, and the lips in question curled. "If /am child- ish, who is grown ? Children don't feel what I do, or desire what I do, or hate what I do. Childish 1 You don't know what you are talking about, Mr. March- mont." "Don't I ? " said Mr. Marchmont, with a glitter of amusement in his eyes. " So much the better! If I am ignorant, I must be instructed. Sit down here; I arranged the seat for you. By Jove, how delightful this is! Hereafter I shall go in strongly for pastoral pleasures. Who would exchange such a place as this for any drawing-rooin on the face of the earth?" "I am afraid it is damp," suggested Amy, " and a little snaky ; but we don't mind about that." "Xot at all. Your friend, Mr. Tr af- ford, might object to the dampness, but fortunately he is not here. As for the snakes, they might come in regiments, and I should defy them. Ah ! " a genuine sigh "if life were always like this made up of blue sky and golden sunshine, and flowers and rippling water, and crowned with the oldest and sweetest thing in existence ! " " What is that? " asked Amy, a little wonderingly. "It is love, my dear," he answered "love, that sooner or later makes fools of us all. Just now I am perfectly conscious of my folly ; but I would not exchange it for the wisdom of sages." "If you consider it folly, I wonder you indulge it," said Amy, who did not think this very complimentary. " Do you wonder ? That proves you can't see yourself. If you could bah! what is the good of talking? Love ex- ists because it exists ; we know no more than that. Amy, this is not the first time 56 AFTER MANY DAYS. by many that I have told you I love you, but you have never yet given me any as- surance in return. I have not asked for it, because of many fetters upon my life ; but now I feel that I must have it. We are young, hope is strong, the future can take care of itself ; let us make the most of the sunshine Fate has given us. Sweetheart" he drew her into his arms and kissed her dewy lips passionately once, twice, thrice" tell me here, now, that you love me ! " She looked up, with her eyes shining, a scarlet fire burning on her cheek. "Well as he knew her beauty, at this moment it almost electrified him. " I love you with all my heart! " she answered. " I never knew what love meant before, but now I have " She stopped as if she had been shot, and Marchmont drew her quickly back into the deeper shade behind them. There had been the sound of a crackling twig crushed by a hasty foot on the other side of the creek, and, looking across, they saw a man's figure disappear in the shim- mering obscurity of green-and-gold among the brown tree-boles. CHAPTER XI. " WOULD YOU LIKE TO PAY YOUE DEBT ? " " How charmed I am to see you, Be- atrix ! " said Florence Lathrop, sweeping into the handsome drawing-room where Miss Waldron sat. " There is not a soul at home but myself, and solitude does not agree with me. Come up to my room, won't you? It is so much more sociable. What a lovely color you have! I sup- pose the heat has given it to you." "Exercise, perhaps," answered Bea- trix, as they left the drawing-room which certainly had an oppressive air of state crossed the hall, and ascended the broad, easy staircase. " One of the horses cast a shoe as we entered town ; so I sent the carriage to the blacksmith's, and have walked from R Street here." "How disagreeable!" said Florence, sympathizingly. They entered her room as she spoke a boudoir-like nest of blue-and-white. with a pleasant breeze fluttering through the wide, lace-draped windows. " Take this chair and rest or will you try the couch ? " " This is very comfortable, thank you," answered Beatrix, sinking into the depths of the chair and unfurling a fan. "I am not very tired only warm. And so you are the only member of the household at home? That is singular isn't it?" "It may be singular that I should be at home, but it is not at all singular that the rest ehould be out. Mamma and Anna are visiting, as usual ; papa and Ed- ward are never at home this time of day. Eunice asked for the pony-phaeton to drive one of her friends, and Brian has gone fishing ; so here I am all alone, and delighted to see you ! " "Mr. Marchmont has gone fishing!" said Beatrix, as carelessly as possible. " I should not have imagined that he liked such amusements." "Nor I," responded her companion; " but he declares that he is very fond of it. Edward laughs at him, however, be- cause he never brings back any fish." "And how does he account for that? I have observed that when people like to do a thing, they always do it well ; and fishing, I am sure, is no exception to the rule." " Brian says that his object in going fishing is not so much to catch fish as to lie on a bank and look at the blue sky and the green trees and the water, and enjoy a kind of dolcefar menU." " Indeed ! " said Miss Waldron. Her lip curled as she bent forward and ar- ranged a fold of her dress. " I should never have suspected him of such pastoral tastes." . " Probably they have developed be- "WOULD YOU LIKE TO PAY YOUR DEBT?" 57 cause he is in love. I don't know much about the tender passion myself, but I think I have heard that people grow pas- toral when they are in love." " I think I have heard so, too espe- cially under certain circumstances," said Beatrix, a little dryly. " We need not dis- cuss Mr. Marchmont's tastes, however. If he likes fishing, by all means let him fish ; a man whose profession is idleness must do something, I suppose." "Oh, Beatrix! that is really too se- vere, when you know that Brian's abili- ties are so great that he is certain to be a very distinguished man one of these days." Miss Waldron elevated her shapely shoulders slightly, but very significantly. Evidently Mr. Marchmont was not in her good graces at the present time. " I am afraid somebody has been try- ing to prejudice you against Brian," said Miss Florence, who, being proud of her cousin, and in a manner attached to him, was sincerely anxious that he should win the young heiress. " Perhaps it was that disagreeable Mr. Archer, who plainly wants to marry you himself." "Florence!" said Miss Waldron, " what do you mean by such an absurd- ity?" " I mean exactly what I say," returned that young lady, " and you need not try to awe me by majestic looks. When Brian first suggested the idea to me, I said that, 'of course, you knew it that women always know such things ; and I'm sure that is true, for /can tell the minute a man falls in love ; but when I saw you with Mr. Archer at Cedarwood the other day, I began to think you didn't know, and I felt I ought to give you a hint." " You are very kind," said Beatrix, half amused, half vexed ; "but I am not quite so obtuse as you imagine. I, too, can tell when a man is in love, and I am glad to be able to. assure you that you are altogether mistaken with regard to Mr. Archer." " You are altogether mistaken, but- I am not! " said Miss Florence, energeti- cally. " I would stake anything on the fact that the man is in love with you!" " You would lose whatever you staked, then," said Beatrix, her vexation getting the better of amusement. " Let us change the subject." The subject was changed, and when Miss Waldron's carriage was presently announced, she took her departure, hav- ing discovered without any trouble all that she wanted to know. " So Mr. Marchmont goes fishing at the same time that Amy Reynolds goes to walk!" she said to herself. "Not difficult to tell what that means. The question is, how can I end the matter best ? or is it worth ending at all ? " . She was still debating this question when her carriage rolled into the gates of Cedarwood, the beautiful grounds stretch- ing away on each side, and looking doubly beautiful in the golden light and long shadows of the westering sun. As the carriage drew up before the hall-door a young man emerged there- from. For one moment her heart leaped, and she said to herself that she had done Marchmont injustice, since he was here to meet her when she saw that, instead of Marchmont, it was Archer ! She was too thoroughly trained in the ways of the world to evince any sign of the recollection of Florence Lathrop's words, which came to her as soon as she saw his dark, quiet face. She merely uttered an ordinary greet- ing, and gave him her hand as he assisted her to alight ; then, when they were standing on the portico, she said, care- lessly : " I suppose you have been with papa, Mr. Archer?" "No," Archer answered, "the gen- eral is not at home. I hope you will ex- cuse my dusky appearance," he added, with a slight smile. "I have been five or six miles in the country to see a dying client, and, since the day was so fine, I 58 AFTER MANY DAYS. walked to his house and back. I am on my way into Edgerton now, but feeling a little tired, I took the liberty of making a short cut through your grounds, and of resting for a few minutes in the house." " I am glad you thought of doing so," said Miss "Waldron, cordially. "You must come in and take some refreshment oh, I insist upon it ! You need not be afraid that I will oifer you cake. I know masculine tastes better than that." " I am afraid of nothing but kindness from your hands," he answered, with an- other smile ; and for the first time Bea- trix noticed how pleasantly his usually grave face lit up when he smiled ; " but I will not trouble you, for I must go on to Edgerton. I have special business Availing for me there." " I am inclined to think that you have forgotten the old fable about the strung bow," she said. " According to the ac- count you give of yourself and that every one else gives of you you have always special business waiting for you. "When a plea is brought forward so constantly, one is obliged to doubt it a little after a while. Now, will you think me imperti- nent if I ask what is your business this afternoon, and why it is so pressing that you cannot stay and take a cup of tea with me? I know you like tea, Mr. Archer." If Beatrix had been questioned, she could hardly have told why she thus urged her point, except that Archer looked worn and tired surest appeal to a wom- an's sympathy and that she resolutely determined to ignore Miss Lathrop's sug- gestion, and not to let it influence her con- duct in the least. Nevertheless she was forced 'to see that something in her last speech affected Archer singularly ; a strange, swift ex- pression passed over his face, and his eyes suddenly drooped, as if unable to meet her own. He hesitated for an instant, then said, quietly : " You are very kind, but I cannot wait not even for the pleasure of drinking a cup of tea with you. I should not have stopped merely to rest, but I wanted a minute to think, and I went into your drawing-room as a good place to collect my thoughts and focus them into a reso- lution." "That sounds mysterious," said Miss Waldron, surprised and a little curious; " but I will not be impertinent enough to ask any more point-blank questions." " I would willingly answer your ques- tion, if I could," said Archer, looking at her now very oddly she felt " but it is impossible. I wonder," he said, with a change of subject so abrupt that it fairly startled her, " whether women ever care to know anything further of a man than that he is handsome, graceful, and well-versed in drawing-room accomplishments ? " " "What on earth has come over him ? " thought Beatrix. Aloud, she said : " I don't know about most women, but I can answer decidedly for myself, that I cer- tainly desire to know something more than that. I would trust no man whose integrity failed to bear any test to which it could be subjected. I would never for- give " and her eyes flashed with a quick remembrance of Marchmont " anything that came under the head of treachery to myself or another I " "What was there in that glance of Archer's which made her feel as if he. was pitying her ? He only said, " I hope you may never have to endure it," bowed, and. went away. Beatrix stood still and watched him as he walked across the lawn to the side- gate. " How strange ! how very strange ! " she said, half aloud. "Surely he must know something. I wish I had asked him plainly what it was." Archer, who at his best was a capi- tal pedestrian, did not occupy many min- utes in reaching Edgerton. Having en- tered the town, he went straight to his office, wrote a short note, inclosed it in an envelope, which he sealed and ad- dressed to Hugh Dinsmore, and sent it to the boarding-house of the latter, with "WOULD YOU LIKE TO PAY YOUR DEBT?" 59 directions that it be left for him if he was not there. It chanced that Hugh was there, hav- ing just come from Mr. Lathrop's count- ing-house, where he had been kept unu- sually busy all day. The boy felt tired in mind and body, but he knew where refreshment awaited him ; and, having washed his hands and face in cool fresh water, he opened his paint-box and car- ried the miniature on which he was en- gaged, and the one he was copying, to the window, where the last sunset-light fell over them. While he was intent on these not painting, but merely gazing, for he knew the supper-bell would ring in a minute a small person came tumbling up-stairs, vociferating " Hugh ! Hugh ! " at the top of his voice, and commenced thundering with two fists on the closed door. " What is the matter, Bobby ? " said Hugh, opening it. Bobby aged five replied by extend- ing a note which bore the impress of sev- eral dirty fingers. Notes were of unusual occurrence with Hugh, since he had no relations and few friends in Edgerton ; so he received this with a sense of wonder. Was it from Amy ? No ; the firm, mas- culine hand which appeared on the ad- dress answered that question at once. Opening the envelope, he found within a few lines from Archer, requesting him to call at that gentleman's office. " Come at once, if possible," he wrote; "I have an engagement for the evening, and cannot see you after eight o'clock." Hugh was all afire with eagerness as soon as he read these words. That the matter in hand was another commission, he did not for a moment doubt. While he glanced over the note, a clock down- stairs struck seven, and at the same mo- ment a bell rang loudly. " There's sup- per ! " cried Bobby, pitching away. Though Hugh had a healthy appetite, supper was at the present moment a mat- ter of no importance to him. Afraid that he should not find Archer if he delayed at all, he seized his hat, forgot for the first time to lock up the precious Wal- dron miniature, closed his door, and ran down-stairs. Ten minutes later he entered Archer's office, and found the latter there. "You are very prompt, Dinsmore," he said. "I did not expect you so soon." "I started the minute I got your note," said Hugh, a little breathless from his haste. " I thought the matter might be important, so I did not even wait for supper." " You must take supper with me, then," said Archer, smiling ; " I did not mean to express such great urgency. The matter is important, but not of immediate haste. Sit down." Hugh sat down, and, in the moment's silence which ensued, began to suspect that there was no commission in the case after all. Archer was folding up some papers with which he had been occupied, and he put them away before he turned, and said: " I hope you will excuse me if I ask a very abrupt and very personal question : Do you remember that evening I found you senseless in the road beyond Edger- ton ? " Hugh's surprise at this unexpected question could not easily be expressed, and was strongly dashed with other feel- ings. For an instant he was so thorough- ly " taken aback " that he could not speak ; but when he answered, there was no mistaking the vibration of indignant pride in his voice, though the gathering twilight concealed the flush that burned on his face. " I am not likely to forget it," he said ; " but I don't know any reason why you should remind me of a thing that concerns nobody but myself." " Indirectly, it may concern others be- sides yourself," said Archer; "and it is because of this that I have sent for you, in order to request you to be frank with 60 AFTER MANY DAYS. me. I know that you had some kind of an altercation with Marchmont, and that he flung you heing much younger and slighter than himself where I found you. I know this ; what I want you to tell me is the subject of your quarrel." " You have no right to ask me such a question ! " said Hugh, with growing in- dignation. "You would not do so if I were a man, and your equal ! I will not tell you anything about it ! " "Then I must tell you" said Archer. "The subject of your dispute or what- ever name you choose to give to the affair was the daughter of Mr. Beynolds, the music-teacher." "How did you know? " asked Hugh. Then he caught himself. " I mean, you do not know anything about it," he said ; " and, if this is all you want with me, I might as well go." He rose as he spoke ; but Archer rose also, and laid a hand on his shoulder. " This is nonsense ! " Archer said. " You have betrayed yourself, even if I had not known exactly how the matter stood before. No doubt you are in love with the girl, but she is not worth shield- ing. I saw her with Marchmont to-day." " You saw her ! " said Hugh, with a gasp. " Where ? " "In the woods," the young lawyer answered. " Marchmont and herself were there together, and, when I came unexpectedly upon them, she was in his arms. I am sorry for you, my poor fel- low," as Hugh started and quivered from head to foot ; " but this is probably only folly on her part. "What it is on his, I won't pretend to say; but one thing is certain : if you want to end it, you had better be frank with me." " But why do you want to know any- thing? How does it concern you? " said Hugh, writhing like one in pain. " I want to know," said Archer, " be- cause I don't choose that a man like this shall marry such a woman as Miss Wal- dron. I am thinking of her. Amy Eey- nolds is nothing to me. You owe Miss "Waldron something for her kindness to you ; you owe Marchmont something for the manner in which he left you lying on the highway. Would you not like to pay both these debts?" Hugh looked up, and, even in the dusk, Archer was struck by those clear eyes of which he had heard Beatrix speak. "I would like," he said, slowly, "to save Amy from suffering and from slan- der ; that is all." " To accomplish that," said Archer, " you must send Marchmont from Edger- ton. As far as I know, but one thing keeps him here his suit with Miss Wal- dron ; and I am sure that when she is aware that, while addressing her, he has been carrying on a love-affair with a girl whom he can have no idea of marrying, she will dismiss him at once." " Do you think so ? " asked Hugh, doubtfully. " I of course, I know noth- ing about such things, but I have heard people say that a woman hardly ever cares what a man has done to another woman." " I don't believe it," said Archer, " of women in general, but I know it is not true of Miss Waldron. Such treachery as this would turn her to steel," he said, thinking of the flash he had seen in the dark eyes so short a time before. " But you have not told me yet when this flirtation, shall I say? began. Let me hear all about it." Some men have a faculty for inspiring confidence, and Archer was one of these. Nobody ever felt a doubt of his entire trustworthiness, and Hugh found it al- most a relief to tell all that he knew of Marchmont's acquaintance with Amy. Archer grasped the story without diffi- culty. An idle man of the world, lover of pleasure and admirer of beauty, a fool- ish, flattered girl hardly emerged from childhood what an old combination was here ! Were there any materials to work a new result ? he wondered. " Unless I am greatly mistaken, that girl is not a mere pretty doll," he thought, recalling Amy's face as he had seen it "WOULD YOU LIKE TO PAY YOUR DEBT?" 61 once or twice. "She may turn amuse- ment into something else before the mat- ter is ended." This, however, was the merest thought in passing. Amy might be everything to Hugh, but she was nothing to him. The only person to be considered, from his point of view, was Beatrix Waldron. He had not the faintest hope of marrying her himself in fact, such an idea did not en- ter his mind at all but he was stern- ly determined to do all that lay in his power to save her from the fate of mar- rying Brian Marchmont. After Hugh's story had been told, he reflected for a while, then said that he would consider how the substance could best be given to Miss Waldron. For ob- vious reasons he felt that it would be im- possible for him to tell it. "If all other expedients fail, do you think that you would have courage to go to her, Dinsmore ? " he asked. "I think I could for Amy's sake," answered Hugh. Archer shook his head. " My poor fellow," he said, " you think entirely too much of Amy. When a man regards a woman in that way, do you know how she treats him ? " " I think I do," replied Hugh, rue- fully. " Generally speaking, she makes a football of him," said Archer. " But it is growing late, and I must not forget that you have had no supper. Come and take it with me at my hotel." This Hugh declined doing. " I can get something from Mrs. Sar- gent," he said; " she is very kind. lam much obliged, but I had rather not trouble you, Mr. Archer." " Trouble ! " said Archer. " I am not a housekeeper." But Hugh still declined the invitation, and went away to his own lodging-house. In truth, supper was a matter of small consideration to him, compared to the pleasure of returning to his painting. Nevertheless, he was not sorry to find that Mrs. Sargent had put aside some bread and butter and coffee for him. " What possessed you to run away just when supper was ready? " she said, while he sat down to these. " Bobby said you got a note ; it surely must have been from your sweetheart." " No, it wasn't," said Hugh, with as much of a sigh as was compatible with eating bread and butter. " It was from a gentleman on business." "'Well," said the friendly woman, "I hope the business is of a kind to bring some money in your pocket, for I declare it goes to my heart to see how shabby your clothes are. Mr. Lathrop might pay you better for slaving day after day, I think." "He pays me well enough," said Hugh; "and you know I told you, Mrs. Sargent, that the reason I dress so shab- bily is, that I am saving fill my money to go away some day and learn how to paint." " A fine sight of money you will make at that!" said Mrs. Sargent, scornfully. " Why can't people be satisfied when they are well off, I say ? There's Felix Rey- nolds, who I hear is going away to learn music as if he couldn't see from his father's example what is to be made at that ! If Mr. Eeynolds would put the boy to some trade, he'd be doing a better part by him. He was here a while ago Fe- lix, I mean and said he was sorry not to find you." "Did he want anything in particu- lar?" " Not that I know of. I heard some- body go up-stairs to your room, and I thought perhaps it was you, till present- ly he came down again and put his head in the door to ask where you was. He looked white and excited-like. Somehow I don't think that boy's going to live long." " Oh, he has an excitable tempera- ment," said Hugh. " That don't kill peo- ple. Well, Mrs. Sargent, I am very much obliged to you for the supper, which I AFTER MANY DATS. have enjoyed greatly, and now I'll go up- stairs." " And sit up all night at your paint- ing," said Mrs. Sargent, shaking her head in warning reproof. Hugh smiled and went away, bound- ing up-stairs three steps at a time. He was never so happy as when his colors were before him and his brush in his hand. His facility in executing the com- mission which Miss "Waldron had given astonished himself. Inspiration seemed to come to his aid where technical knowl- edge was lacking, and, although he had worked under every possible disadvan- tage, the result justified his most sanguine belief in his own powers. When he reached his room he found the door slightly ajar. This did not sur- prise him, for he knew that he had not locked it on going out, and that Felix had been to the room since then. He entered, struck a match, and lighted the argand- lamp, which, with its steady, powerful burner, he had found absolutely indis- pensable for his work, and which was one of the most precious and expensive of his few possessions. Having placed the lamp in position and arranged his things ready for painting, he turned to the casket of the miniature. To his sur- prise, it was open and empty. For a second, dismay seemed to grasp him like the hand of a strong man, when he re- membered that he had taken the picture out just before Archer's note was brought to him. With an ejaculation on his care- lessness, he turned to the window where he had been standing. There, on the ledge, lay the fold of white paper which contained his half -finished miniature, but that which had been intrusted to him was gone! CHAPTER XII. "AN ABSOLUTE STEOKK OF LUCK." HAVING slowly wandered home with Amy through the exquisite May twilight twilight which seemed especially made for lovers and mocking-birds, and in which other classes of the world's popu- lation merely existed on sufferance, and were wholly out of place Marchmont felt averse to taking leave when Mr. Rey- nolds's door was reached. Amy looked bewitchingly pretty in the soft gloaming ; it was " the hour when lovers' vows sound sweet in every whispered word ; " and, altogether, he was strongly inclined to de- fer his return from Bohemianism to re- spectability. If Amy had said " Come in to tea," he would have gone in ; but Amy had no mind to say anything of the kind. Mr. Reynolds would not only have been reasonably astonished at such a step, and would certainly have demanded an explanation; but Amy shuddered when she thought of Marchmont being intro- duced to the family dining-room, where hideous serviceable delf alone crowned the family table. There are some rare people whose breeding is of such an ex- quisite quality, that they would make no sign of recognizing the difference between the table of a laborer and that of a mill- ionaire; but she felt instinctively that Marchmont did not belong to this class. Cut-glass and silver, damask and Sevres, were the necessities of life to him ; and nothing revolted his fastidiousness so thoroughly as coarseness and ugliness in any degree. Amy knew this as much through sym- pathy as anything else, for they revolted her to the centre of her eoul, and had always done so. Parting was very un- pleasant, but she clearly recognized the necessity for it, and held out her hand with an unmistakable gesture of farewell when they paused on the door-step. "And must I go?" said Marchmont. "AN ABSOLUTE STROKE OF LUCK." 63 "That is very hard. I don't feel like going at all. I prefer sitting down here, nnd defying Mrs. Grundy to say and do her worst." "What would -Mrs. Grundy's worst be to you?" demanded Amy. "Not that I should care for anything slie could say of me," she added, with a slight, de- fiant toss of her head ; " but there's papa to be considered. He has told me not to stand here and talk to gentlemen, so I must go." "You have stood and talked to gen- tlemen before, then?" said Marchmont, a little suspiciously. It is in the nature of man to be jealous, and certainly no more winsome face than Amy's at this moment ever served as an excuse for jealousy. She caught the intonation, and laughed a peal of mirth that rang out sweetly on the soft air. " Do you think you are the only gentleman I ever talked to ? " she asked, saucily. " That's not likely is it?" " I think you have about as much diablerie in you as any of your sex whom I have ever known and that is saying a great deal," replied Marchmont. "But let us hear the names of the gentlemen. Come! confession is good for the soul, you know." " I don't know," said Amy, delighted at the attraction which was detaining him, yet anxious for him to go, since Mr. Reynolds, or Clara, might appear at any moment ; " I think it is very foolish of people to give evidence against them- selves. But I have nothing to confess," she added, with a sigh. "No doubt I should be a great flirt, if I had a chance ; but nobody has ever given me a chance." "I will!" said Marchmont. "You can practise on me ! I offer myself he- roically on the shrine of your future greatness, and some day, when you are breaking hearts by the score in the most scientific manner, you will give me a place in your memory as the first trophy of your skill." The words of laughing jest were light enough, but the dark, daring eyes irre- sistible eyes, a hundred young ladies had called them were full of earnestness as they gazed at that rose-bud face. Under that gaze Amy's lashes sank, and the col- or wavered in her fair cheeks. A place in her memory ! There could be little doubt of that. Whether for good or evil, friend or foe, Brian Marchmont could not fail to command recollection at least. "I wish " she said, suddenly, and then paused. "Well," said her companion, after waiting an instant and finding she did not go on, "what do you wish? That you were prima-donna assoluta, with all Paris at your feet?" "No; I was not thinking of that," she answered, glancing at him with some- thing of a child's wistfulness ; "I was about to say that I wish I knew what you and I will be to each other in life." "Oh! " said Marchmont, slightly dis- comfited. He lifted his hand and pulled the end of his silky mustache before answering. Then he said, carelessly : "Such thoughts are unpleasant, my dear, and not worth troubling one's head over. We know nothing absolutely nothing about to-morrow ; but we have to-day in our grasp, and we are fools if we do not take all that it offers us of pleasure. There's no better philosophy in life than that of gathering roses while we may ; and you and I have gathered some this after- noon have we not, my pretty Amy ? " The tone in which he uttered her name was equivalent to a caress, but Amy did not answer. Looking up at that mo- ment, she saw one of the greatest gossips in the neighborhood a stout woman, with the waddling gait that stout women often have bearing along the sidewalk toward her. "Dear me!" she said, under her breath, "yonder comes Mrs. Simpson, and she will stop and talk, and and oh, I must go ! Good-by ! " AFTER MANY DAYS. She darted into the house so rapidly that Marchmont had not time for a word. In fact, he was so completely taken hy surprise that he could only gaze blankly at the door for a minute, while Mrs. Simp- son who knew perfectly who he was indulged in a prolonged stare at his pro- file. Bousing suddenly to a consciousness of this, he flung one haughty glance at her, then sprang up the step or two which intervened between himself "and the door, and vanished in turn. "If I ever saw the like!" said Mrs. Simpson to herself, as she waddled along. " He seems as much at home in the house as if he lived there. If that girl don't come to harm yet, Pm mistaken ! " Careless of any comments to which his conduct could give rise, Marchmont paused in the dusky passage and looked round, but there was no sign of Amy. Xo doubt she had ascended the staircase which wound upward before him. He would not call, for fear of rousing some one else to respond; so he entered the parlor, determined to wait and intercept her when she descended. "I only want to say one word," he muttered to himself, in justification of this step. " I must tell her that I shall not be able to see her to-morrow." The twilight, which by this time reigned over the outer world, was, of course, much deeper within a room which was generally in shadow at noon-day. After stumbling against two or three pieces of furniture, Marchmont found a chair, in which he sat down. Just behind him, in a recess, was a sofa, but he was not aware of its proximity, else he might have essayed to make himself comfortable on that. He had not been sitting here more than two minutes though they seemed twenty when hasty footsteps entered the house from the street. The next in- stant Oliver rushed into the dark par- lor. "Amy!" he cried, quickly "Amy! are you here ? " " She is not here," said Marchmont, who did not fancy the prospect of inter- ruption. " Is anybody dead, or dying, my good fellow, that you make such an up- roar?" "No, there's nobody dead, or dying," replied Oliver, in a tone of surprise. "You are Mr. Marchmont, aren't you?" he added, drawing nearer. " Are you here all by yourself ? "Where's Amy ?" "I can give no information on that point. She disappeared a minute ago, and I don't know where she has gone." " I've got something to tell her, and something to show her ! " said Oliver, in a tone of triumphant excitement. " It's the best joke on her, and on Hugh Dins- more, that ever was! You know," he went on, "Hugh's been awful spooney about Amy for a long time, and Amy don't believe he ever thought of any other girl but her. Well, some of us boys are going to have theatricals round in Tom White's barn to-night, and I went to Hugh's room a little while ago to get him to paint me for an Indian, but he wasn't there. Then I thought I could paint myself, if I had the stuff, so I commenced rummaging among his things, when I found a picture of such a pretty girl, that I made up my mind in a minute I'd bring it and show it to Amy, and let Tier give it back to Hugh. Won't she be astonished ? and won't he be astonished ? Ha ! ha ! " " A very good joke indeed ! " said Marchmont. " Let me see the picture." " It's a stunner ! " said Oliver. " But you can't see it here come to the win- dow." Marchmont advanced to the window, where the lingering May twilight enabled him to see at once that the picture in question was, as he had suspected, the Waldron miniature. The light was too dim to distinguish the painting, but tlie pearl setting and rich gold chain were sufficient to identify it. He was silent for a moment, and in that moment his resolution was taken. If AN ABSOLUTE STROKE OF LUCK." 65 he could obtain possession of the picture, and induce the boy to hold his tongue, he might after having retained it for a day or two in order to give Hugh as much trouble as he deserved by returning i; to Miss Waldron, vindicate his own opin- ion, and prove not only Hugh's untrust- worthiness, but Archer's also, since Arch- er had recommended and indorsed the young artist. The idea was tempting. The question was, how could he obtain possession of the picture in the first instance, and se- cure Oliver's silence in the second ? "While he was considering whether or not to offer a bribe, Oliver spoke : " You can't see it well," he said, re- gretfully. " It's awfully pretty ! I'd go and bring a candle, only I'm expecting Tom White every minute. I wish Amy would come ! " "If she don't come in time, you can leave it with me, and 1 will give it to her," said Marchmont. " She's up-stairs, I suspect ; I'll take it up there," said Oliver, who had no mind to lose the pleasure of his joke. "You see, I'm going home with Tom White to-night, for all his people are away, and to-morrow we're going fish- ing, so I sha'n't see Amy again till to- morrow evening. Hullo ! here's Tom now." A bullet-head appeared framed in the open window, as he spoke, and a boy's voice said : "Is that you, Oliver? Come along! The fellows will be round by eight, sharp, and we are not near ready ! " " You had better give me the picture," said Marchmont, in a low voice. Oliver hesitated an instant ; then, " Be sure and tell Amy that it's the like- ness of Hugh's sweetheart," he said, and darted eagerly away. It was not Marchmont's habit to in- dulge in soliloquy, but, after standing for a minute motionless where Oliver left him, he littered a subdued laugh, and spoke aloud : " Hugh's sweetheart ! Eather 5 better than that, my friend," he said. "By Jove! this is an absolute stroke of luck!" At that moment a step sounded on the staircase, and he plunged' the miniature hastily into one of the outside pockets of his coat. It was not Amy who was descending, however unless Amy knew how to swear. " What the deuce is the reason that there is no light anywhere ? " demanded an irritable voice. " Clara, is there to be no supper to-night ? " " Eeady now, sir! " responded a voice from the farther extremity of the house, followed by an immediate clatter of dishes. With a sigh, Marchmont resigned him- self to the prospect of not seeing Amy again. He was so far. gone in what he did not hesitate to term "idiocy," that he felt this to be a deprivation not easily borne. There was no alternative, how- ever. Mr. Reynolds had gone into the dining-room ; in another minute he might emerge with a lamp, and retreat be cut off. Marchmont returned* hastily to the place where he had been sitting when Oli- ver entered, felt about in the dark for his hat by no means an easy task, for he came in contact with various objects, which caused him to utter some forci- ble ejaculations placed that article on his head as soon as discovered, and took his departure. "You must have found fishing more than usually entertaining this afternoon, Brian," said Edward Lathrop, with a laugh, as they sat at dinner half an hour later the Lathrops and Waldrons had introduced the fashion of late dining at Edgerton. "Pray, was your luck any better ? When are we to have the pleas- ure of eating some fish of your catch- ing?" " I think I have remarked before," re- plied Marchmont, with unruffled calm- 66 AFTER MANY DAYS. ness, " that catching fish is the least agree- able feature of fishing." " It is very fortunate that you think so," remarked Mr. Lathrop, senior, " since the fishes are plainly in no danger from you, my dear boy. If your fishing is con- ducted in the neighborhood 'of Cedar- wood, that might, perhaps, account for the fact. Ha! ha! ha!" " Oh, no, indeed, papa; you are very much mistaken," said Miss Florence. "At least, if Cedarwood is a distraction, it is a very unconscious one. Beatrix was here this afternoon, and she ex- pressed a great deal of surprise at Brian's fancy ; she had never imagined him addicted to pastoral amusements, she said." " I suppose it would be useless to ex- pect a woman to understand the pleas- ure of sport in any form," said Edward Lathrop. "I don't at all object to fish- ing myself, and I think I'll go with you to-morrow, Brian, and' see if the fish about here have forgotten how to bite." " You can't go to-morrow," said Miss Anna Lathrop, "for we are all going to Cedarwood to a croquet-party." "Is it to-mofrow that you are due at Cedarwood?" said Mrs. Lathrop, ook- ing up in explanation of which it may be added that a croquet-club existed in Edgerton, which met weekly at the house of some one of the members. " Yes, to-morrow," said Florence. " I am always glad when the turn of Cedar- wood comes; everything is so pleasant there. It will be delightful to feel, some day, that one has a cousinly right in such a charming place," she added, with a laugh, and a mischievous glance at Brian. " It is never wise to count chickens before they are hatched," said Mr. La- throp, with a smile which seemed to imply that he thought there was little danger of the chickens in question not being satis- factorily hatched. ' " It is not in good taste to make such remarks, Florence," said Mrs. Lathrop, with a very unusual sharpness of tone. There was a little stir of surprise among the company. The girls looked at their mother, and then at their cousin ; but the countenance of the latter was im- perturbable. " Cedarwood is certainly a charming place," he said. "I shall not much mind sacrificing myself to croquet though generally I consider it the greatest bore of modern social life if the sacrifice is to take place there." Notwithstanding this nonchalance, he had a very decided foreboding of what was to come; and he was not in the least surprised when, after dinner, his aunt summoned him into the back draw- ing-room, where she sat alone, in a large chair near the open window, through which the air of the soft May night came laden with delicious sweetness. The front drawing-room was brilliant- ly lighted, but this room was left in par- tial obscurity, and, when Marchmont en- tered, he could only perceive the outlines of Mrs. Lathrop's figure and the fan she was slowly waving back and forth. "You will find a chair here just in front of me, Brian," she said. "Sit down ; I have something to say to you." "I am all attention," answered Brian, quietly, as he sat down. He knew as well what Mrs. Lathrop meant to say as she knew herself, and lie awaited the disclosure with a certain sense of amusement, in which irritation mingled but did not predominate. Mrs. Lathrop on her part was glad of the semi-darkness, for she felt a sense of awkwardness altogether new to her. She, who managed all the social affairs of Edgerton, who never hesitated to advise the irresolute and admonish those who strayed from the path of right-doing, was oddly conscious of having on hand at the present moment a culprit beyond the pale of her authority one who would prob- ably neglect her advice and scorn her ad- monitions. She hardly acknowledged this con- "AN ABSOLUTE STROKE OF LUCK." 67 sciousness to herself, and she certainly did not mean to betray any sign of it in her manner, but instinctively she mounted a rather higher horse than usual, when she began : ^ I regret to interfere in what you may probably consider no affair of mine, Brian," she said, in a very stately man- ner ; " but since you are staying in my house and I have always regarded you very much as I do my own sons I feel it my duty to warn you, when I have learned that you are committing a very grave imprudence." Marchmont smiled to himself at this address a scornful, impatient smile, which the darkness fortunately con- cealed. " Confound the woman ! why can't she speak oub plainly? " he thought ; then, with the utmost coolness, he said: " You are very kind, I am sure ; but may I ask, Of what imprudence have I been guilty ? " "It is hardly possible that you do not know to what I allude," said Mrs. Lathrop, with an accession of dignity. "To-day I went to see Mrs. Eipley, an invalid who boards at Mrs. Orenshaw's, and there, to my utter amazement, I heard for the first time of your intimate acquaintance with that badly-reared girl, the daughter of Eunice's music-teach- er." " Poor little Amy ! " said Marchmont, with a cadence of amusement which even caught Mrs. Lathrop's ear. " Is it possi- ble, Aunt Caroline, that you regard my acquaintance with her in the light of a grave imprudence ? " Mrs. Lathrop felt that this was of- fensive levity, and she grew colder and stiffer in consequence. . "I certainly regard it in that light, when I consider the character of the girl, and your object here," she said. " You cannot blind me by any such tone as that, Brian. I have not reached my age with- out acquiring some knowledge of the world. If you came here to marry Be- atrix "Waldron, and if you want to marry her, you had better not spend hours every day in the society of a girl who, young as she is, has already acquired a reputa- tion for being what is called ' fast.' " " My acquaintance with her was en- tirely accidental," said Brian, who felt that he must enter a plea of defense. " I have gone to her father's house simply to hear her sing, for she has a most wonder- ful voice. She seemed to me a mere child not older, I should think, than Eunice." "If she is a mere child, she neither looks nor acts like one," said Mrs. La- thjop. "I don't think that alters the matter at all ; and I warn you that peo- ple are talking of it, and that, if such reports come to Beatrix "Waldron's ears, your chances with her will be ruined." " I must differ with you on that point," said Marchmont, calmly. "Miss Wal- dron has not only heard me speak of my visits to Mr. Keynolds's house, but it was by my advice that she asked Amy to sing at her/ete." Mrs. Lathrop was so much surprised at this, that for a moment she was silent. It did not take her long, however, to rally her forces. "That may be possible," she said, " and yet Beatrix may not know the ex- tent of your intimacy, or the gossip that has risen with regard to it. No doubt you feel that it is altogether your own affair " this was so true, that Marchmont did not contradict her "but, although I have no good opinion of the girl, I shall make it my affair sufficiently to warn her father that he had better look more care- fully after her, if he does not wish her to suffer seriously in her reputation." "Aunt Caroline," said Marchmont, starting with an energy which contrast- ed very strongly with his previous in- difference, "you surely will do no such thing!" " I certainly shall do it, for the sake of Mr. Reynolds, whom I have known as an honest, hard-working man," answered 68 AFTER MANY DATS. Mrs. Lathrop, majestically. Then she rose. "This has been an unpleasant duty, Brian, but I have discharged it as a duty," she said. " My conscience being clear, I shall not trouble you with the subject again. Though I do not think Beatrix and yourself calculated to make each other happy, I will not interfere in any manner with your suit; but if this matter is told to her, as it has been told to me, she is far too proud a woman to forgive it." The clear tones ceased, the speaker swept away with a rustle of silk, and Marchmont found himself alone, with feelings more uncomfortable than he had at all anticipated. It would be difficult to say whether, for a time, anger, disgust, or contempt possessed him most strongly. In these sentiments his aunt, himself, Beatrix, ev- erybody except Amy, shared. It seemed incredible that he should be the subject of petty village gossip should be lectured like a schoolboy, and hampered in the pursuit of any amusement that offered itself to him. "I have half a mind to turn my back on the whole affair ! " he thought, with wrathful scorn. Naturally, however, other counsels prevailed. "It is fate ! " he thought, with that conven- ient optimism which comes so easily to men. " I must stay until the last act is played. How lovely she is ! " He was thinking of Amy's face as she lifted it that afternoon, when he wrung from her a confession of her love. " Many men in my place would play the villain ; indeed, a few would fling all thoughts of the world to the winds! J shall simply linger a little longer, and then go, leaving only a girl's bruised fancy behind. Such things are often good for women who have a public career before them. She will be all the more invincible for being a little hardened." It was natural, no doubt, that of the cost of this hardening Mr. Marchmont did not pause to think epicurean phi- losophers in his position rarely do ; but, as he leaned back in his chair, deaf to the strains of the piano, or the gay voices and laughter which issued from the next room, one hand unconsciously sought his coat-pocket, and the gesture reminded him of the miniature which had so strangely come into his possession a short time before. It was not in his pocket, since he had hastily changed his dress on returning to the house in time for dinner, and he now remembered that he had left the coat which he took off lying across a chair, with the miniature still in its pocket. " How careless 1 " he thought, as he rose at once and went to his chamber not because he feared that anything would befall the picture, or that any one could possibly chance to see it, but because he wished to examine it before putting it away. The coat was lying exactly where he had thrown it, and, taking it up, he ran his hand into the pocket where the min- iature had been placed. It encountered only a handkerchief ! He hurriedly drew this out, and felt again ; there was noth- ing ! He turned the pocket inside out ; still nothing ! Then he plunged his hand in succession into all the pockets, examin- ing each one carefully. The result with each was identical the miniature was not to be found. "When he fully realized this, he stood gazing blankly at the coat, which he held by the collar; then he went over all the pockets again, and felt the lining care- fully around each one ; then he shook the garment violently, and, all measures fail- ing to produce the missing picture, flung it aside and began examining the carpet under and around the chair over which it had been thrown. From this place his search extended throughout the room; but, after all probable and improbable places bad been searched, he was obliged to face the same fact which had brought dismay to Hugh Dinsmore's breast a few hours before. The miniature was gone ! WHERE IS THE MINIATURE?" 69 CHAPTER XIII. " WHERE IS THE MIXIATURE ? " THE Reynolds family, with the excep- tion of Oliver whose absence was hard- ly observed and not at all remarked were assembled at supper, when Hugh Dinsmore suddenly burst in upon them, his face white, his eyes startled, his lips apart. " Mercy, Hugh ! what is the matter ? " cried Amy, who saw him first ; but, for once, Hugh paid no attention to her presence or her words. He did not even seem to hear her ; his eyes sought only one face, and, when they found that, he cried, breathlessly: " Felix, for Heaven's sake, give me that picture ! This is a poor jest ! " "Give you what?" asked Felix, amazed. " I have nothing of yours." "You have!" cried Hugh. "You must have, Felix ! " There was absolute agony in his tone. " This is no time for trifling. I ran every step of the way here as soon as I discovered the picture was gone, and I said to myself, at every step, ' Felix has taken it for a jest.' But it is a cruel jest ! Give it to me." " I don't know what you are talking about," said Felix, bewildered. " I have not any picture of yours! I went to your room a little while ago, but you were not there, so I did not stop a minute ; I ran down-stairs and asked Mrs. Sargent about you, and, when she said she didn't know when you would be back, I came away. How could you think I would touch your things much less carry any- thing off?" Hugh's face seemed to sharpen mo- mently in anxiety. He clutched the back of a chair, and looked at the boy with a gaze of passionate entreaty. " Mrs. Sargent declares that you are the only person who went to my room during my absence," he said. " The pict- ure that I left by the window is gone. Who else could have taken it ? Felix, I can never believe that you meant harm if you will only give it back give it now /" " What is the meaning of this ? " asked Mr. Reynolds, whom astonishment had kept quiet. " What is he talking about, Felix ? " "It seems he suspects me of having taken some picture out of his room," an- swered Felix. " I don't know any more than that. I didn't enter his room ; I only looked in, and I touched noth- ing." Mr. Reynolds turned to Hugh, with the blood mounting in a dark tide to his face. "You hear that! " he said, haughtily. "My son's denial is sufficient though how you could have ventured to suspect him, I do not understand." " How could I help it ? " said Hugh, hoarsely. " The picture is gone the picture that was trusted to me and that means everything for me. No one went to my room during my absence but Felix " " And you dare to think that Felix took your picture ! " cried Amy, with eyes all ablaze. "Hasn't he told you that he did not touch it ? I never heard anything more infamous ! You will say next that he stole it ! " " Hush, Amy ! " said Felix. He alone understood the terrible blankness that came over Hugh's face, and, rising from his seat, he walked round the table and touched the elder boy's hand. "I did not take it," he said, gently. " On my honor, I touched nothing in your room. If you have lost anything valuable, let us go and look for it." " Look for it ! I have looked ! " cried poor Hugh. " It is gone utterly gone ! If you have not got it, Felix, I am ruined ! " The despair of the last words touched even Amy. "What was it, Hugh? Surely not Miss Waldron's miniature? " she said. "Yes; Miss Waldron's miniature!" answered Hugh. 70 AFTER MANY DAYS. Then he told his woful story how he had been called away from his room; how for the first time he had neglected to lock up the miniature, and how it had disap- peared. " God only knows what I am to do ! " he said, twining and untwining his thin, nervous fingers. " I do not know where to turn what to do ! There was no one in my room but Felix " Mr. Reynolds pushed back his chair and rose from the table. "You harp on that," he said, sternly, " as if you doubted Felix's assurance that he did not touch the picture. I am sorry for your misfortune, but you have plain- ly only your own carelessness to blame. The sooner you realize this, the better. Felix, come with me ; I am going to Herr Meerbach's." He walked out of the room, but Felix paused to throw his arms around Hugh's neck. " I am not vexed," he whispered. " I know you don't mean anything. I wish I had taken the picture; then I could give it back to you. I am so sorry so sorry ! " " I am satisfied with your word that you did not take it," said Hugh, huskily. " I never thought you had done so ex- cept as a jest." " Was it your picture, Hugh ? " asked Ernest, curiously, unable to understand such excessive concern with regard to the property of any one else. " Eat you supper, and don't ask ques- tions about what don't concern you ! " said Amy, sharply. " Come into the parlor with me, Hugh." Hugh followed her, and they entered the room where, a short time before, the miniature, which was causing him so much wretchedness, had changed hands. By the very window where Oliver and Marchmont had stood Amy sat down, while Hugh paced back and forth like an unquiet spirit. " What is the good of taking the thing so desperately to heart, Hugh ? " she said, 1 watching him. " I don't believe anybody has stolen the picture. What would any- body want with it? It is valuable to the Waldrons, no doubt; but nobody else would consider it so." " You are mistaken," said Hugh. " It is not only valuable as a work of art, but it is set in very fine pearls. I feel as if I were wasting time in staying here! " he cried out, suddenly; "but what can I do? where can I go? " Amy could give him no advice on this point. She offered vague consolation in the form of a remark that she had no doubt the miniature would " turn up ; " but beyond that she was not able to vent- ure. "I have no hope of such a thing," said Hugh. " It is not lost it has been taken. Who would take it and return it? My only hope was that Felix had done so. But, whoever has taken it, the responsibility and the suspicion fall on me." " I am sorry," said Amy. The words were so gentle, that, in the midst of all his trouble, Hugh's heart gave a throb. Despite his wretchedness, he could not feel that everything was lost when Amy was sorry. " It seemed as if life was beginning for me the kind of life I desire," he said, with something like a sob in his voice. " Now it is all over ! I must go to Mr. Archer and tell him. Oh, what will he and Miss Waldron think of me ? " " Why should you go to Mr. Archer ? " asked Amy. " He is a very disagreeable person isn't he ? " "He has never been disagreeable to me," said Hugh; and then he remem- bered that it was Archer's summons which made him leave the miniature, and what the cause of that summons was. So great had been his distress and anxiety that for a time he had entire- ly forgotten this. Now it came back to him like a dart of pain. He stopped ab- ruptly and looked at the girl, who was sitting by the open casement in the dim "WHERE IS THE MINIATURE?" 71 light. Should he tell her? would there be any good in telling her what he had heard?" "Amy," he said, after a minute, " the last time that I saw you I made you an- gry. I shall be sorry to make you angry again, but I cannot help it. I must warn you once more that Marchmont is acting toward you like a scoundrel ! " " What do you know of him ? What do you mean by saying such a thing to me?" asked Amy, with quick defiance. " One would think you had some right to interfere with my affairs ; but you have not the least ! " " Only the right of loving you a great deal better than he does," said Hugh. "I would sooner die than harm you; but he is harming you more than you know. You are quite young, but have you no pride of a woman," he said, pausing be- fore her, " that you let a man make love to you, and win your heart, when he has no idea of marrying you ? " Something in the grave, half-sorrow- ful words thrilled Amy. She was not so much a child but that she had a little of that "pride of a woman" of which Hugh spoke, and it now brought the blood to her cheeks in a tide. " You don't know what you are talk- ing about," she said, haughtily, "and you are meddling in what does not concern you. If Mr. Marchmont and I under- stand each other, that is enough." "I doubt very much if you under- stand him" said Hugh. " He is amusing himself with you, my poor Amy; and, when he is tired, he will leave you, with- out one thought of your distress." "I am not afraid of it," said Amy. " I know that you think me a fool ; but a woman even one so young as I am can tell when a man really loves her." "Then, if he really loves you," said Hugh, " what part is he playing with an- other woman? He certainly is trying to marry Miss Waldron." "I don't believe it! " she flashed out. "I don't believe anything you tell me of him ! You have never liked him you were jealous of him from the first." "Yes, I have been jealous of him," the quiet tones replied tones that she could hardly recognize as Hugh's; "but I am not jealous any longer. I have heard Amy, do you know what I have heard this evening? " " How should 1 know ? " asked Amy ; but she shrank a little as she spoke. Conscience makes cowards of us all-. She remembered how often she had met Marchmont lately, and she doubted not that some rumor of those meetings had come to Hugh's ears. As for Hugh, the words which he would fain have uttered seemed to choke him. He felt that he literally could not repeat Archer's account.. Instead of do- ing so, he held out his hand, abruptly. "Good-by," he said. "I can do no good here. You will not heed me ; you do not believe me. If I serve you, it must be in another way." " There is no way in which you can serve me," answered Amy, proudly. Then she softened a little. " Good-by ; and oh, I hope you will find the picture ! " she said. " Would to God I had never seen it! " Hugh answered, in a tone of despair. From the Eeynolds house he went straight to the hotel where Archer lodged, and fortunately found the latter, who heard of the loss of the miniature with great surprise and concern. For a moment only for a moment he looked suspiciously at Hugh; but it was impossible to doubt the genuine dis- tress and anxiety which the boy was en- during; and the young lawyer was too shrewd a judge of human nature to mis- take reality for a counterfeit. "I am truly sorry that the loss was owing to my summons," he said; "but this gives mo an additional reason for making every possible effort to recover the picture. Whom do you suspect of the .theft ? Are there any dishonest ser- vants in your boarding-house ? " AFTER MANY DAYS. " There is only one servant," answered Hugh, " and she was occupied at the time, for the family were at supper. Mrs. Sar- gent is positive that nobody in the house went to my room while I was out." "Nobody in the house! Did some- body out of the house go to it, then? " " Felix Reynolds went to it," answered Hugh, who knew that Mrs. Sargent would tell this if he failed to do so. " I have been to him, but he says that he did not touch the picture that he did not even enter the room when he found I was not there." " What he says is of small importance," returned Mr. Archer. " If he was the only person who went to your room dur- ing your absence, he must have taken the picture." "I am sure he did not! " said Hugh, eagerly. "You don't know Felix you don't know how little he would be likely to do such a thing! I thought, at first, that he might have taken it for a jest, but I soon saw he had not. He was amazed when I spoke of it." "I don't think that your opinion is greatly to be relied upon with regard to any of the Reynolds family," said Archer, dryly. " Come ! I'll go to your boarding- house at once, and see what sort of a de- tective I shall make." To the boarding-house he accordingly went, but there was nothing to be elicit- ed beyond what Hugh had stated. Another search demonstrated afresh the fact that the miniature was gone; while Mrs. Sargent professed her readi- ness to take "her Bible oath" that no one had been in Hugh's room during his absence except Felix Reynolds. Every member of the household proved an alibi, and Archer was justified by the facts of the case, when he said to Hugh : " I have perfect faith in your honesty, but you must understand this : you can- not shield young Reynolds without incur- ring suspicion yourself. Unless you have disposed of the picture, he must have taken it ; there is no third alternative." With these words he went away, and left poor Hugh steeped in double wretch- edness. So his unhappy fate was to in- volve Felix as well as himself! Although the mystery attending the disappearance of the picture grew deep- er, he could not believe that Felix had taken it. On the many miserable thoughts which haunted him, on the fears that beset him fears of the disgrace which seemed ready to fall on his head it is not worth while to dwell. Mrs. Sargent's sleep was sadly broken during the long hours of the night by the steady tread overhead, that never ceased until morning broke in the east. Long, golden sunshine streaming on green, close -shorn turf, croquet -hoops set, croquet-balls rolling, brightly-dressed groups of girls and sombrely - dressed groups of young men scattered here and there, gay voices sounding, gay laughter ringing such was the scene which the lawn of Cedarwood presented at four o'clock on the afternoon when the cro- quet-club met there. For those watching the game or rest- ing from it, chairs and rugs were placed near; but the young hostess was neither among the players nor spectators. When the question was asked, "Where is Miss Waldron ? " some one answered, with a laugh, " Sitting under the cedars with Mr. Marchmont." Yet this fact by no means implied a withdrawal from the scene of gayety, for, although croquet was the ostensible ob- ject of the gathering, it by no means monopolized the attention of the com- pany. Ladies and their cavaliers strolled back and forth across the lawn, passed through the portico and hall to the dining-room, where a collation was spread, and flitted in and out of the wide-open drawing-room windows. The appearance of the entire scene was festive in the extreme. Miss Waldron, who was seated under "WHERE IS THE MINIATURE?" 73 the large cedars, gazed at it with absent thoughts. " Yes," she said, in reply to a remark from her companion, "I am thoroughly out of sorts. I have been greatly shocked and distressed to-day, and all this Jars upon my mood. Do you not think " she put up her fan just here, as if to shade her eyes " that there is something dread- ful, something that one cannot easily re- cover from, in finding treachery where one expected fidelity? " "It might be dreadful, perhaps," said Marchmont, who knew, or thought he knew, to what she alluded, "if one did not find it to be the case so often. After all, the best rule in life is that of trusting nobody. This may sound cynical, but, unhappily, cynicism is often only another name for worldly wisdom." " And you think it -wise to trust no- body ? " she said, regarding him keenly. " How about yourself ? Do you not trust anybody ? do you not wish any one to trust you?" He started. " I was not speaking of myself," he said ; " I did not imagine that you would suppose so. I thought you were alluding to some dishonesty on the part of one whom you had trusted." "I do not think I said so," she re- plied, "but you are right. Do you re- member the miniature of which I spoke to you once or twice, and which I gave young Dinsmore to copy? You warned mo against the risk of doing so, and it is a pity that I did not act on your advice, for it is lost." " Lost ! " repeated Marchmont. He was expecting this, and had pre- pared all his well-trained forces of self- control, but nevertheless he was conscious of changing color, and he could utter nothing besides that word. " Yes, lost ! " said Miss Waldron, af- ter a moment's pause. " The boy came here this morning, in deep distress, to tell me that it was taken from his room while he was absent for a short time yesterday evening. I say taken, because that was his story, but how much of it to believe I do not know. He looks so honest, that I am loath to suspect him of having stolen it myself, but I cannot close my eyes to the suspicious aspect of the affair." "I told you it would be," said March- mont, who had by this time regained his composure. "I felt that it was a great risk to intrust anything so valuable to an utterly irresponsible person." " And you think I am right in svispect- ing him? I can hardly bear to think so." "I don't see how you can avoid doing so. It is at least certain that he has been guilty of gross carelessness, if not of dis- honesty. But the presumption is strong with regard to the last." " I cannot give you any idea of how much it worries me," she said, still keep- ing her fan over her eyes. " I have not told papa yet, because I dislike to an- noy him. If the mystery could only be cleared up, I should be so much re- lieved ! " "What mystery is there?" asked Marchmont, with an uneasiness which was not outwardly manifest. " You surely don't apply that term to the sim- ple fact that the miniature has been lost?" " The fact does not seem to be simple," she answered. "Mr. Archer was here this morning, and, like myself, he is at a loss what to believe." "I wonder that you attach the least importance to Archer's opinion," said Marchmont, scornfully. " It was he who recommended the boy, who has proved so unworthy of your trust." " It was at my request that he took the trouble to find out the boy's charac- ter not to give him one," she replied, with a certain stateliness. " If there has been a mistake in the matter, it is mine, not his. But I want your opinion on the question which puzzles us both. You must understand that Mr. Archer sent for Hugh about dusk yesterday evening, and that while the boy was gone only one 74 AFTER MANY DAYS. person went to his room. That person was one of the young Reynoldses." " What! " said Marchmont. Surprise and dismay overmastered him, and he could not restrain the expression of both. " Great Heaven 1 " he thought, " can it be possible that, after all, the little wretch has betrayed me ? " "The one named Felix," said Miss Waldron, calmly. " Hugh is positive that he did not touch the picture; but, as Mr. Archer remarks, the matter lies be- tween the two. If no one else entered the room, one or the other must be guilty." Was it only Marchmont's fancy, or did she slightly emphasize that " if " ? It was the first intimation he had had of Felix's connection with the matter, and it startled him. Clearly there was nothing to be done but to throw the weight of his opin- ion against Hugh. "I have no idea that young Reynolds did take the picture," he said, "and Dins- more's bringing in his name looks suspi- cious. If one person went to his room, why should not another havedone so some confederate, perhaps, who was to steal the picture ? The fact of his going away and leaving the picture exposed, with the door open, looks ^ery much like this!" " Do you think so ? Then you believe that he is accountable for its loss ? " Marchmont would willingly have avoided a direct answer to this question, but there was no alternative ; and after all, in a certain sense, Hugh, and Hugh alone, was accountable for the loss of the picture. " Yes I believe so," he an- swered; "I can see nothing else to be- lieve." Silence followed this reply. Laughter and challenging words, together with the clink of mallets and balls, came ringing from the croquet-ground, while through the open drawing-room windows floated the music of the piano and a high, clear voice singing a popular song. " Fanny Stewart sings very well," said Miss Waldron, presently, " but there is no voice in Edgerton that can compare with that of your soprano, Mr. March- mont." " You mean Amy Reynolds," said Marchmont, as indifferently as possible. " She certainly has a very fine voice." Then he added, though he scarcely knew why, " Have you seen her lately ? " "I went to see her yesterday after- noon, in order to make some arrangement about her appearance at the/ete, but I did not find her at home," answered Miss Waldron. " The little girl whom I saw her younger sister, I believe said she had gone to walk. Perhaps you chanced to meet her ? " " I ? " lifting his eyebrows carelessly. " Certainly not. Why should you im- agine such a thing? " She did not answer, but rose from her seat, looking very handsome, with her rich draperies sweeping round her ; while, under the straw hat which she wore, her cheeks had a crimson flush, her eyes a starry gleam. " I must not detain you here, listening to my annoyances," she said. "Are you fond of croquet? Let us go over to the ground." " What have I done, that you should forsake the beautiful shade of these ce- dars for that chattering mob yonder?" asked Marchmont, with the impatience which is often the best compliment that can be paid a woman. " Pray don't go unless you are tired of me." " One grows tired of sitting still," she said, lightly. " I am naturally restless. If you object to croquet, let us go to the fernery." "The fernery, by all means! " he an- swered, sauntering along by her side over the soft green turf, on which the sunshine lay like a mantle of gold. Everything was so gay and bright around them, and the whole scene so significant of luxury, pleasure, and that holiday side of life which makes up ex- istence for the children of prosperity, that any disturbing thought of annoy- MRS. LATHROP FULFILLS A DUTY. 75 ance or pain seemed like an intrusion on the harmony of the surroundings. Marchmont felt this, and, being preemi- nently epicurean, he found no difficulty in banishing all such reflections from his mind. The attraction which Beatrix had for him was altogether different from Amy's seduisante beauty, so the two did not conflict ; and no woman could have desired more devotion of look and tone than was displayed in his manner. When they entered the fernery he felt that Fate was propitious to him. Here he had made his declaration, and here all the associations were in his favor. He was by no means an impatient suitor, and entertained no doubt as to what Miss Waldron's final answer would be ; but he was not averse to exchanging suspense for comfortable certainty as soon as possible. " Do you remember the last time we were here together ? " he asked, sinking his voice to that key of perilous softness which is so often affected by men of his stamp, as they slowly walked between the graceful, broad-leafed plants. " I remember that I tried to interest you in the different varieties of ferns, and failed utterly if that is what you mean," said Miss Waldron. " That is not exactly what I meant," he answered, with a slight laugh. "I am afraid I shall repeat myself, if I say that my want of interest was easily account- ed for by preoccupation ; but it is true, nevertheless." "Preoccupation in me understood, I presume?" she said, coolly, and if her lip curled, he did not observe it. "Preoccupation in you certainly xm- derstood 1 " he answered. " Could it be otherwise, when I was here with you? " "That is a question which modesty forbids me to answer," she said; "but, since you recall the occasion so well, I sup- pose you also remember that I gave you a fern one of these " she paused before a plant bearing fairy -like fronds. "I wonder if you have it yet ? " If Marchmont had answered truly, he would have said that he had never thought of the fern after it had been given to him, and had not the faintest idea of its fate ; but he was the last man in the world to tell an awkward or uncomplimentary truth simply because it was the truth. Therefore he answered, promptly : " Of course I have it yet. Do you think I could have failed to value and preserve it ? " " I don't know," she said. " M.en do not usually value trifling souvenirs of the kind. Women not men preserve faded flowers and leaves as if they were priceless treasures poor fools that they are ! " she added, in a tone of half -sad contempt. " Then we are all fools together," said Marchmont, smiling, "for men are guilty of such folly as often as women. Do you remember the reason that Owen Meredith, gives for something of the kind ? ' Between two leaves of Petrarch There's a purple rose-leaf pressed, More sVeet than common roses, For it once lay on her breast.' The fern of which you speak never had that happiness, but still it was your gift, and, as such, a treasure to me." "Yonder come Florence and Mr. Glenn," said Beatrix, turning abruptly away. CHAPTER XIV. MRS. LATHROP FULFILLS A DUTY. THE fate of the missing miniature re- mained enveloped in mystery, for Oliver Reynolds, who alone could have thrown a partial light on the matter, had been frightened into holding his tongue. Before Oliver started with Tom Whito on the day's fishing, Marchmont had seen him, and told him that the picture was lost. He also informed him that he had found it to be of great value, and that, i 76 AFTER MANY DAYS. he did not wish to be apprehended as a thief, he had hetter not drop the least hint of having seen or touched it. " No one can possibly suspect you, as matters stand," Marchmont said, impres- sively ; " but if you open your lips on the subject, you are lost. Don't mention it to anybody, and / shall not betray you." After mature deliberation, Oliver de- cided on this course, and it resulted ad- mirably. Being of a weak, cowardly na- ture, he was filled with consternation, and, having pledged himself to silence, faith- fully kept his pledge. If his conscience troubled him at all, no one observed the signs thereof ; but, in truth, no one had either the time or the inclination to observe Oliver. It was known to Amy and her father, though not mentioned to. the younger chil- dren, that Felix was involved in the sus- picion which had fallen upon Hugh. This alone was trouble enough ; but a worse sorrow was in store, and suddenly burst on Mr. Eeynolds without warning. lie was at the Lathrop house, giving a music-lesson to Eunice, when, just be- fore the hour had expired, Mrs. Lathrop entered the room and sent her daughter away. * m "If you will excuse my disturbing your lesson, Mr. Reynolds," she said, "I should like to speak to you for a few minutes." When Eunice had departed, Mr. Rey- nolds, who was peculiarly intolerant of parental interference, and whose temper gust now was far from sunny, buttoned his coat, took his roll of music, and, without sitting down, looked at the lady in a very aggressive fashion. Mrs. La- throp was not to be daunted, however, so she cleared her throat, and began : " I have a very unpleasant duty to perform, Mr. Reynolds," she said ; " but it is not my habit to shirk a duty, how- ever unpleasant it may be." Mr. Reynolds muttered something in- audible and not complimentary. He had no doubt this majestic beginning prefaced fault-finding with Eunice's progress, and he was ready to resent anything of the kind. " I have always entertained a very friendly feeling toward you," Mrs. La- throp proceeded, with stately condescen- sion, " and I am truly sorry for a wid- ower with children especially if those children are girls. A man is so incapable of managing one might almost say, of understanding girls." At this point Mr. Reynolds could only stare which he did with telling effect from under his shaggy eyebrows. It oc- curred to him to wonder what possible connection there was between his wid- owed state and Eunice's music; but he was accustomed to Mrs. Lathrop's disser- tations, yet felt irritably averse to listen to one just now. "If there is anything in your daugh- ter's progress you don't like " he began, abruptly, but Mrs. Lathrop interrupted him suavely. " There is nothing," she said " noth- ing whatever. I am perfectly satisfied with her advancement. Ah ! my dear Mr. Reynolds, it is not my daughter of whom I wish to speak, but your daughter." " My daughter ! " repeated Mr. Rey- nolds. No suspicion of the truth came to him. He was aware that Amy's wonder- ful voice began to be talked of, and he expected some advice or congratulation on that score. "Yes, your daughter," replied Mrs. Lathrop, impressively. She folded her hands in her lap, and her cap-strings quivered with the energy of her interest. "I am very sorry to shock or pain you," she went on ; " but I feel that I should neglect a duty, if I did not warn you that this imprudent girl is being talked of in a way that will do her very serious injury." "Madam!" said Mr. Reynolds, with lightning darting from his eyes, " I do not understand you ! " " I am told," said Mrs. Lathrop, now embarked on her subject, " that my neph- MRS. LATHROP FULFILLS A DUTY. 77 ew, Brian Marchmont, is in the habit of seeing your daughter every day, of spend- ing hours in her society, and of taking long walks alone with her. You can judge for yourself whether such conduct is proper in a girl of her age and posi- tion. I confess that I was shocked when I first heard the gossip which has arisen on the subject." " Gossip about Amy! " said Mr. Rey- nolds, with a gasp. He was too honestly dismayed to be indignant. There was something pathetic in the anxious look that came to his worn face. "God forgive me!" he said, half under his breath. " I ought to have watched over her more carefully ; I ought to have remembered that she has no mother. What do people say ?" he went on, sharply, turning to Mrs. Lathrop. " Let me hear the worst." "I do not think they say anything at present worse than the truth that Brian is amusing himself with her," that lady replied. " Girls' hearts, fortunate- ly, are not easily broken ; but worse may come if the matter is not stopped. I have spoken to Brian, but, of course, without effect. It rests with you to control your daughter." Mr. Eeynolds muttered something in- coherent, seized his hat, and, before Mrs. Lathrop could offer any further advice, unceremoniously left the room. Not a single recollection of pupils or appointments occurred to him as he swiftly walked along the streets toward his own house. He could think of noth- ing but the news which had been told ; he could do nothing but execrate his own carelessness, which had suffered Amy to become the subject of amusement for a man like Brian Marchmont. His hand involuntarily clinched itself, and his brows knit closer together. Two of his pupils who met him shrank affrighted. " How angry Mr. Eeynolds looks ! " they whispered, as he passed. "Some- body must have been doing a lesson very badly." As he approached his house he heard the pure, silvery tones of Amy's voice, together with the chords of the piano ; and when he entered the parlor he found Marchmont playing the accompaniment, while she stood by him singing one of the songs selected for the Cedarwood fete. At her father's unexpected entrance she stopped abruptly not so much be- cause he entered, as because she caught at once the expression of his face, and it made her heart sink instantly. Though by no means a tyrant in his family, all the members of it knew that Mr. Reynolds was not to be trifled with ; and when his wrath was roused, they shrank before him as his pupils did. Amy saw the signs of storm very plainly, so her voice ceased as suddenly as if a hand had been laid on her throat ; and when Marchmont turned in surprise, he also beheld the fierce countenance of monsieur le pere. His prophetic soul warned him of a scene at once, and he rose quickly from the piano-stool ; but there was no awk- ward consciousness of detection and guilt in his manner. "Good-morning, Mr. Reynolds," he said, easily. "I hope you do not object to an amateur substitute. I have been playing Miss Amy's accompaniment, and venturing to offer her a little instruc- tion." "I object exceedingly to your pres- ence, sir ! " replied Mr. Reynolds, sternly. "I am quite able to give my daughter all the instruction she needs, and I have come to tell her that I forbid her to receive your visits or hold any further communi- cation with you. I have just heard of your constant presence in my house," he went on, in a voice that trembled with anger, " and of the gossip to which it has given rise. You must have known this very well, and yet you have continued to take advantage of this child's youth and 78 AFTER MANY DAYS. ignorance. You are no gentleman, and I am glad to find you here, in order that I may tell you to leave the house and never enter it again." " Your excitement is your excuse for this insult," said Marchmont, calmly. Since his aunt's threat he had been prepared for something of this kind, so he was not astonished, much less discom- posed. He extended his hand for his hat, which was on the top of the piano, and walked up to Amy, who looked as if the entire fabric of existence was tumbling about her ears. "I am sorry that my presence shouM have caused you this annoyance," he said ; "but I must thank you for the many pleasant hours I have enjoyed in your so- ciety. Good-by." She could not utter a single word, but looked at him with eyes full of such pas- sionate appeal, that it was only by a strong effort he maintained his compos- ure of manner. To do so was a neces- sity, however, with the gaze of Mr. Eey- nolds upon him; he therefore turned quickly, and, without another word, passed from the house. As the ring of his step bounded on the sidewalk below the window, and Amy realized that he was absolutely gone, a low cry broke from her lips. "O papa! papa! how could you?" she said, bursting into tears of grief and rage. Mr. Eeynolds walked across the room and seized her arm not harshly, but with a pressure that compelled atten- tion and checked summarily the angry sobs. "Listen to me!" he said. "I am willing to overlook a good deal of folly in a girl of your age, left without a mother and with little care ; but you are old enough to comprehend, when I tell you that you are standing on the brink of disgrace. If you meet that man again, either in this house or out of it, you will do so at your peril, for I forbid you to see or speak to him. Now, go to your room, and do not leave it again until I send for you." Thoroughly awed by his tone and manner, Amy obeyed. Sobbing under her breath, she slowly wended her way up-stairs and entered her chamber, clos- ing the door behind her. Notwithstand- ing its being closed, she heard her father call Clara and speak to her in an ener- getic manner. "He's telling her to watch me like like a dragon, I know ! " Amy said to herself as she lay prone on the bed in utter wretchedness. This was the last drop in her full cup of anguish. To have seen Marchmont or- dered from the house ; to be forbidden to meet him ; to be confined to her room, and to have Clara placed as sentinel over her Amy felt that human misery could go no further. In truth, the girl was miserable with that intense wretchedness of youth which never looks beyond the moment. She suffered, as she enjoyed, with her whole soul ; and just now her suffering was of the keenest nature. It was not without its ray of hope, for she had a comfortable assurance that Marchmont would find some way to set everything right; neither was she in- different to the romantic side of the dis- tress; but these sources of consolation were at least vague, while her grievances were real. Their reality increased very much in the course of the next few days. March- mont, who felt that he had carried -his flirtation as far as was prudent for him- self accepted the situation, and left Amy severely and sadly alone. It cost him something to do this, but his aunt's warn- ing had opened his eyes to the danger of his position, and he felt that he dared not trifle further with the serious interests at stake. He gave a sigh to the piquant little beauty, who, he had not the least doubt, was weeping out her eyes for him ; but, on the whole, he was obliged to Mr. MRS. LATHROP FULFILLS A DUTY. 79 Keynolds for exiling him so summarily from his paradise of roses, and giving him so good an excuse for absenting himself altogether from the shabby little house in E Street. As day followed day without any word or token from him, the world for Amy seemed to come to an end. She had no idea how completely his presence filled her life until he had vanished from it, leaving so terrible a blank behind. She pined until she was sick; she wept and watched until she was almost blind ; and her fate was like that of Mari- ana in the moated grange. " He must have forgotten me ! " she would sob to herself. "If he wanted to see me, he could find some way to do so! " Altogether a cloud rested over the Eeynolds household during these days. Felix's departure for Germany was de- layed, partly on account of Mr. Trafford's temporary absence from Edgerton, and partly because of the suspicion concerning the miniature, which hung over him as well as Hugh. This mystery remained as deep as ever, and baffled every one engaged in its elucidation. Marchmont alone was easy in mind. He did not doubt but that he had dropped the picture on the street, and whoever picked it up, recog- nizing the value of the setting, had qui- etly retained it. The fact that he was accountable for its disappearance did not trouble him at all. Whether it remained lost, or whether it were found, it could not be traced to him of that he felt sure, and therefore he made himself thorough- ly easy. This ease was not emulated by the rightful owners of the picture. General Waldron, outraged at the loss of such a valuable family relic, was decidedly of opinion that Hugh should be threatened with legal prosecution if it was not pro- duced; but to this his daughter would not agree. " It was my fault, papa," she said, " and I cannot consent that he should bear the penalty. I may have been wrong to put the miniature in his hands, but I do not I cannot believe that he has taken it." Her unsupported opinion might not have had much weight with her father, but Archer strongly indorsed it. "That boy has no more taken the picture than I have," he said. "One has only to look at him to see that he has wasted away to a shadow through sheer anxiety since its loss." "Somebody must have taken it," said General Waldron, positively.' " There is no doubt of that," Archer quietly replied. " Somebody certainly must have taken it." He did not say so to any one save Beatrix, but his own impression was that Felix Keynolds had taken it. He con- fessed, however, that there was very little " showing of a case " against him, and that to have him arrested on a charge of theft would be an extreme step not war- ranted by the evidence. Around Hugh troubles thickened at this time. To the Lathrops the fact of his guilt seemed so clear that Mr. Lathrop dismissed him from his employ. Worse even than this, Mr. Reynolds resented so bitterly the shadow which had partly fallen on Felix, that Hugh found himself unwelcome in the house which always before had been like home to him. That the poor boy grew wan and hollow-eyed under the burden of these accumulated misfortunes was not remark- able, and Mrs. Sargent expressed her firm belief that he would die before long if matters did not mend. "He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep, ho does nothing but pine and mope," she said. " There's a deal of sickness in Edg- erton now, and he's just in the state to go off sudden like." While affairs were in this unsatisfac- tory state, many preparations for the long-talkecUof Cedarwood fete were in 80 AFTER MANY DATS. progress. General "Waldron, who took more interest in the matter than bis daughter, personally superintended all the arrangements. The grounds were to be illuminated ; the large drawing-room, which was to serve first as a concert- room and then as a hallroom, was beau- tifully decorated, and it was generally understood in Edgerton that " no expense was to be spared " to make the entertain- ment a brilliant success. As time went on, Amy looked forward to this occasion with almost feverish anx- iety, realizing as she did that it was her only chance of seeing Marchmont. Since the morning when her father had ordered him to leave the house she had not exchanged a word with him, and she was not so much a child but that she felt keenly that this was his fault. There could be no doubt that she was tasting the fruit of the tree of knowl- edge, and finding it very bitter. She was wounded not only in her heart, but in her pride, by his utter neglect. " A word from him would make every- thing right," she thought, "and he will not speak it." The inference to be drawn from this was plain even to her, aad what with tearful days and sleepless nights, signs of suffering began to appear on the fair young face, which had never marred its Hebe joyousness before. As Mrs. Sargent shook her head over Hugh, so Clara shook Tier head over Amy. "Things are pretty bad with Miss Amy, when she don't care nothing 'bout her dress for that big party she's goin' to ! " this close observer said to Felix. "I've fluted it beautiful, but she hasn't even looked at it." This, if Clara had known it, was sig- nificant not only of Amy's grief but of Amy's age. Older women may be heart- broken, but they do not neglect their toilets. Sixteen foolish in this as in every- thing else throws all thought of adorn- ment to the winds, and feels, like Thekla " I have lived and loved, but that was to-day ; Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow." On the day of the fete Amy was seat- ed in the garden, engaged in fringing a rose-colored sash that looked as little as possible like grave-clothes. She was silent, for of late she never sang except when she practised, but, be- ing plunged in thought, she heard no sound of approaching steps, nor was con- scious of any presence near, until a fa- miliar voice said : " Good-morning, my dear. I am glad to see you again." She glanced up with a start, and saw Mr. Trafford standing before her, with a look of unmistakable pleasure on his face as he held out his hand. " I hope you have missed me a little," he said, with a smile, after she had ut- tered the usual commonplace greetings. "I have been gone let me see eight days, I believe. What have you been do- ing with yourself during all that time ? " "Nothing in particular," she fal- tered, remembering with how much of sadness those eight days had been fraught. Mr. Trafford's keen glance rested on her face, and noted every line of the change there. " I am afraid it has been something very much in particular," he said. " Have you been unwell ? " " Certainly not," she answered, im- patiently. " I am always well." u Have you been unhappy, then ? " "Why do you ask me such a ques- tion?" she demanded, flushing. "Do I look wretched ? I am sorry if I do, for I suppose I have no more cause to be so than many other people." " Eight days ago you had, so far as I knew, no cause to be so," said Mr. Traf- ford, gravely. " What has wrought such a change? Come, my dear girl I am your sincere friend, and I do not ask from idle curiosity tell me ? " Poor Amy hesitated, and the great tears welled up into her eyes. "I I would not mind telling you if there were any good in it," she said ; " but there A TRIUMPHANT DEBUT. 81 isn't. You couldn't help me not at all. We have been very much worried about Felix," she went on, eagerly, anxious to lead her companion's attention away from her own trouble. " It seems too infamous that suspicion should fall on him about that miniature." " On Felix ! " said Mr. Trafford, look- ing amazed. "What are you talking about?" " I forgot that it happened after you went away," she said, " so I suppose you have not heard of it." Then she told him the story of the disappearance of the miniature, and Fe- lix's connection therewith. He listened attentively, and seemed struck by the fact that, up to the present time, no clew had been discovered. " Are you quite sure they have not found out anything? " he asked, more than once. " I am perfectly sure," Amy answered. " That odious Mr. Archer has been to see Felix, and insinuated some things, for which, if I were a man," she cried, with flashing eyes, " I would shoot him ! " " And how does Felix take it? " asked Mr. Trafford. "Felix is dreadfully distressed," she replied, " and he will not hear of going away much as he wishes to start for Germany until the thing is cleared up. I am afraid he will be ill from excite- ment and worry." " His mind must be relieved at once," said Mr. Trafford. "If I had suspected this, I would have come back sooner." Amy opened her eyes. " You talk as if you had the minia- ture in your pocket," she said. " I don't think anything will relieve Felix's mind except some certainty about it." " Then we must obtain the certainty," said Mr. Trafford, with the air of a man to whom everything was possible. " How about poor Dinsmore ? The affair must fall heavily on him." "No doubt it does," responded Amy, indifferently. "I have not thought of him much, and papa does not like to hear 6 his name mentioned. The picture was in his possession, and his carelessness was the cause of its loss. Of course, there- fore, he must expect to be held account- able; but Felix " "Yes, it is hard," said Mr. Trafford, absently. Presently, with a change of subject so abrupt that it fairly startled her, he said : " Oliver and Ernest are at school are they not ? " "Yes," she answered; "they are al- ways at school this time of day. Why do you ask ? " for Oliver and Ernest were by no means favorites of this eccentric gentleman. " I want to see one of them," he an- swered. " Send Oliver over to me when he comes home. Do you know where 1 am likely to find Hugh Dinsmore ? " "At his boarding-house, I suppose," Amy answered, more and more surprised. "He is not likely to be anywhere else, for I have heard that Mr. Lathrop has discharged him. "Humph! " said Mr. Trafford, with a significance which she only partly under- stood. He drew his brows together, and muttered one or two forcible words un- der his mustache ; then he held out his hand again. "Keep up your heart, my dear," he said, " and don't sadden your pretty face for the sake of a man who is a contemptible sneak. Good-morning ! " CHAPTER XV. A TRIUMPHANT IT was impossible for Amy not to feel as if some great delight was in store for her, when she put the last touches to her toilet on the evening of iheftte to which she had so long and so earnestly looked forward. Her dress was of simple white muslin, and flowers were her only orna- ments; but the freshness of her beauty needed no further adornment, and even the dim little glass into which she gazed AFTER MANY DAYS. gave back a reflection that might have satisfied the most exacting woman. The girl looked at it with passionate eagerness. "Was she beautiful? "Would he think her so ? These were the ques- tions she was asking herself, while excite- ment filled her veins like electricity. She v/as fairly quivering with it as her slen- der fingers placed the rose-red roses in her hair. Ever afterward the fragrance of these particular roses was hateful to her ever afterward it brought back that evening when she stood hoping, long- ing, fearing, while crowning herself with them. The last touch had been given, the last flower placed in position, and she was gazing at herself, wishing her father was ready to go, when she heard the sound of quick steps in the hall below, and the eager tones of an excited voice. " Who can that be ? " she said. " Ma- riette, run down and see ! " Mariette, who had been serving as a willing candle-holder, ran at once, and in a minute came flying back. " It's Hugh," she cried ; " and he says the picture's found!" "Found! where?" asked Amy, in amazement. But Mariette had not waited for any details ; she only knew that Hugh was in the parlor with Felix, and that he said the picture was found. Full of eagerness, Amy ran down- stairs. She had no desire to see Hugh, but the suspense of ungratified curiosity was something which, in her present mood, she was altogether unable to en- dure. "When she entered the dusky par- lor for it was only lighted by a single candle on the high mantel-piece Hugh, who was talking to Felix, stared at the white-robed, festive figure as if it were a vision. ""What is this about the picture?" Amy cried, before he could speak. " Who found it ? where was it found ? " " That is a secret just now," Hugh answered; "I am bound by a promise not to tell anything about it to-night. But I felt that I must come and let Felix know that it is safe in Miss Waldron's hands, and that both he and I are free from blame." " But how did it get into Miss Wal- dron's hands?" asked Amy, impatiently. " What does that matter ? " said Felix, who was seated as usual on the piano- stool. " It is found that is enough and I shall start for Germany to-morrow." " And I shall go with yon ! " said Hugh, with his eyes shining like stars. " That is glorious news, isn't it ? Gener- al Waldron has offered to send me abroad to study art." "O Hugh!" exclaimed Amy, clasp- ing her hands. " Are you in earnest ? " " Yes, I am in earnest," answered Hugh. " It seems like a dream, but it is a fact. Are you glad, Amy? " he asked, a little wistfully. "I am glad for yon," Amy answered. " But," she added, with a sudden remem- brance of all that he had been to her as a constant companion, a loyal champion, and a devoted subject, " I am sorry for myself." " What is the use of being sorry, when you'll go away yourself before long to learn how to sing? " demanded Felix. " When you are a great singer, and Hugh's a great painter, and I'm a great musician, how glorious it will be I " " Tremendously glorious ! " exclaimed Hugh ; " but just now I had rather hear that Amy is sorry, than to anticipate that splendid time." "But it will be splendid ! " said Felix, on whose pale, thin cheeks a feverish flush was glowing. "Some day Amy and I will give concerts together. Amy, come here and sing your songs for Hugh." He turned quickly to the keyboard, and struck the chords of accompaniment as he spoke, while Amy, not at all unwill- ing, advanced to his side. As she poured forth, in her pure, fresh voice, the songs she was to sing at Cedar- wood a few hours hence, and Felix's flex- A TRIUMPHANT D^BUT. 83 ile fingers swept the keys, Hugh took in the scene with a sort of lingering inten- sity, feeling that it would long dwell in his memory. The piano, littered with sheet-music, the dim, shadowy room, the fragile, slender hoy-musician, and the beautiful young songstress who stood hy his side the picture, in all its details, struck his artistic fancy, while, with a pang, he felt that he was standing on the threshold of a change that would make this shabby old parlor, and all that it con- tained, part of an irrevocable past. " I suppose you feel that you are on the eve of your first triumph, Amy," he said, when the songs were ended, and he had expressed his admiration very sin- cere admiration, though tinctured with sadness. " I hope so," answered Amy; "but I feel a little nervous. When I am on the eve of a real triumph, I may remember this, and think how absurd it was to be excited by a private concert." "Little things seem great to begin- ners," said Hugh. " And is Felix to play your accompaniments ? " " Yes, but that is nothing I mean, he would not go only for that. He is to play a sonata of Mozart's, which nobody will understand." " I will make them understand it," said Felix. "Listen, Hugh! " Then he began to play ; but it is to be feared that the great waves of harmony rolled past Hugh without obtaining due appreciation, for Amy crossed the room to his side, and laid her hand on his arm. " Tell me, Hugh," she whispered, coaxingly, "where was the miniature found?" " I can't tell," answered Hugh, smil- ing. " You must wait a little while. Perhaps " and here his voice grew more grave "you will not be pleased when you hear everything connected with it." " Why should I not be pleased ? " she asked. " What have I to do with it ? " " You ? nothing. But don't question me, for I do not want to tell you anything. Amy " a pause " do you think you will remember me after I am gone ? " " Of course I shall remember you ! " replied Amy, in a matter-of-fact tone. " How could I possibly forget you, when we have been such good comrades for so long?" she asked, with a smile brimful of beguiling coquetry. Hugh expressed his feelings by some- thing closely resembling a groan. " It hasn't been much comradeship with me," he said. " You know I love you better than my life, Amy; and if you would give a little hope before I go away if you would only say that some day you may think well enough of me to marry me " " That is nonsense, Hugh ! " inter- rupted Amy, with asperity. " A boy like you talking of marrying ! I never heard anything so absurd. I have told you be- fore that I like you as a friend " very decidedly " but I shall never like you in any other way never ! " " You can't be sure of that you are too young," said Hugh, making a despair- ing appeal against this crushing decision. " I am just as sure as if I were fifty," answered Amy, positively. " I am fond of you in a certain way, but it is not that way." She shuddered as she spoke, for some- thing almost like repugnance came over her as she compared the figure before her with the lover for whom her heart was sick. Youth is very cruel, especially when it suffers ; therefore she felt none of the compassion which an older woman might have entertained for the boy whose hopes she was ruthlessly treading under foot, and who, during many years, had garnered all his store of affection in her. After her last words he was silent for a few minutes, and it chanced that just then Felix was playing an exquisite pia- nissimo passage, " Soft as the memory of buried love," and sad as its lament. Hugh hardly heard it, yet it entered into his thoughts and seemed like a requiem to 84 AFTER MAXY DAYS. him. When he spoke, it was to say, slowly : " If you are so certain, I won't trouble you any more. I never thought you could like me very much now, but I thought, perhaps, you could give a sort of promise when I went away, and, in case I accom- plish all I hope to do, I could claim it. should work harder for fame if I saw you at the end ; but there is no good in talk- ing if it is not to be. I am only sorry, oh, very sorry, that you are throwing away what is true for what is false. Somehow I have an instinct, Amy, that when you make your choice now you will make it for good." " I hope I shall ! " said Amy, with an indignant quiver in her voice. Just here, Mr. Keynolds was heard on the staircase saying : " Amy, are you ready ? " " Yes, papa, as soon as I get my cloak and gloves," answered Amy, darting away. " Felix, my boy, are you sure you feel well enough to go? " the musician asked, entering the room. Then, to his surprise, he saw Hugh, and stopped with an abrupt "Humph!" "Good-evening, Mr. Eeynolds," the latter said, a little coldly, for he felt keen- ly the injustice to which he had been sub- jected. " I have only come to tell Felix that the miniature which was so mysteri- ously lost has been found." " What ! found ! " exclaimed Mr. Rey- nolds, quickly. " "Where ? by whom ? " "I am not allowed to tell that to- night. Mr. Trafford will explain the whole affair to you to-morrow." "Mr. Trafford! What has Mr. Traf- ford to do with it ?" " He will answer that Limself," replied Hugh, quietly. He rose as he spoke, said good-even- ing, and went away. "Papa, may I start to-morrow?" asked Felix, pleadingly. "Mr. Trafford has corns, and the picture is found. There is nothing now to keep me." " Only that you are to unwell to trav- el," said Mr. Eeynolds, gravely. "Let me feel your pulse. My boy, you have a fever now. Is it merely from excitement, or are you ill ? " " Only excitement, I suppose," Felix answered, eagerly. "Don't make me stay at home, papa ! I want to go." When Felix said "I want to" do a thing, the matter was settled with Mr. Keynolds. Though cold, and often severe, to his other children, he idolized this boy, and indulged him beyond the ordinary meas- ure of parental indulgence. The fact was easily accounted for on the score of his delicate health, and gentle, rarely-gifted nature. He had never been like other boys, and his father had always felt that an organization so sensitively balanced demanded the most tender care, and might at any time slip away out of the region of material things into those purely spiritual. The grounds and windows of Cedar- wood were blazing with a multitude of lights, and the company were arriving in constant detachments, when Mr. Eeynolds and his children drove up to the door Mrs. Crenshaw having kindly lent them an old-fashioned one-horse "rockaway," in which she occasionally made short journeys at a funeral pace. Amy, who had often laughed at this sober conveyance, might at another time have felt aggrieved at the necessity of using it ; but now she was too preoccupied, too eagerly anxious to reach Cedarwood, to care by what means she was conveyed there. When she first caught sight of the house which looked like a fairy-palace gleaming against the steel-blue sky she uttered a cry of delight. Surely Happi- ness must dwell in such scenes as those ! At this moment a Chrysostom could not have persuaded her to the contrary. As they entered the house and passed along the hall, she caught a glimpse of a A TRIUMPHANT DEBUT. 85 crimson-carpeted stage, framed in a flow- ery arch at the farther end of the large drawing-room. The beauty of the dec- oration on all sides fairly dazzled her, utterly unaccustomed as she was to such scenes. Many debutantes in her position would have been awed, but Amy was only ex- cited. The love of the world, the pas- sionate desire for the things of the world, which had been always inherent in her, seemed to gain fresh vigor at this first contact with the object of her dreams. "Some day I shall be rich, too! " she whispered to Felix. And he answered : " You will be a great artist that will be better." Amy did not reply, but, if she had done so, it would not have been to agree with him. Perhaps there was not the material qf the real artist in her at least it is certain that now, as ever, she thought more of the rewards of art than of its exercise. If she had been satisfied with her ap- pearance when it was reflected by the dim little mirror in her own chamber, she was more than satisfied she was delighted when she saw herself in the great cheval-glass of the dressing-room into which she was shown. " I am lovely ! " she thought, with a thrill of pride. " No one here to-night will be lovelier, and surely he will think so." Of the "he" who filled so large a place in her thoughts she saw nothing in the interval of time which elapsed before the entertainment began. At the end of the drawing-room a smaller apartment served as a green-room for the performers, and here she was con- ducted. It was filled by the gay young ladies and gentlemen of "The Cecilia," all of whom knew her slightly, and spoke with the sort of good-humored condescen- sion to which she was accustomed, and which she always resented. To-night, however, she felt it less than usual, her mind being occupied with other consid- erations. She paid little attention to the concert until it was her turn to appear. But when Felix and herself were summoned to the crimson-covered stage lined with flowers, where a grand piano stood, she felt for the first time as if her heart rose into her throat. It was purely the effect of ner- vous excitement, and vanished when she found herself before the audience. A sense of power came to her then, and she stood by the instrument perfectly com- posed and graceful, while Felix played a short prelude. There was a stir of inter- est among the company below a general lifting of eye-glasses. " What a lovely girl ! Who is she ? " many asked. " Is it possible that is Amy Reynolds?" said others. "By Jove! she's a regular beauty ! " the younger men remarked. But these comments ceased when she began to sing, and her voice rose so pure, so fresh, so powerful in its untried sweet- ness, that even those who knew least of music were amazed and enthralled. Such singing had seldom, if ever before, been heard in Edgerton, for Amy, as she had said of herself on the day when March- mont heard her first, was "inspired." Even her father was astonished by the silvery clearness, the liquid richness, of her notes. "It is marvelous marvelous!" he said to himself. " There is a fortune in her voice." She was applauded rapturously, and as she was turning to leave the stage, flushed and trembling with the delightful certainty of triumph for she could hear the exclamations of admiration passing from lip to lip among the audience a bouquet suddenly fell at her feet. As Felix stooped for it, she sent one swift glance in the direction whence it came, and met Marchmont's eyes. The gaze lasted only an instant, but in that instant she read enough to set her heart beating. What telegraph is there 86 AFTER MANY DAYS. like the human glance ? What assurances can be given of love or hate, what pas- sionate protestations silently made in less than a heart-beat of time! So it was now, as, grasping her flowers nervously, she hurried away, thinking joyously, "He is true ! he is true ! He loves me yet ! " The members of " The Cecilia " crowd- ed round her, and overwhelmed her with congratulations. "What a beautiful, beautiful voice you have 1 " one after another cried. " Why did you never let us hear it before ? You sang divinely ! You will be a great prima-donna some day ! " " I am positively ashamed to sing after you ! " said the star soprano. Compliments were very pleasant to Amy, but her bouquet was best of all. She retired to a corner and buried her face in its sweetness while the concert went on. Every flower seemed to say that before the evening was over the hap- piness for which she longed would be hers. Felix's sonata was a great success, for though there were only a few persons in the audience capable of appreciating the wonderful technique and masterly com- mand of the instrument which the boy- musician possessed, these led the applause in which the others willingly joined. Amy's second song was even more warmly received than the first. It was a sparkling operatic melody, which showed not only her voice, but her dra- matic ability to great advantage. She was encored so persistently that Mr. Reynolds consented to her returning, so Felix led her back, and she sang " Within a Mile of Edinboro' Town " with charm- ing piquancy. " What a trump-card you have found, Beatrix ! " cried a vivacious young lady rushing across the room to where Miss Waldron sat. "Who could have im- agined that little Amy Reynolds, whom we have seen grow up before our eyes, would prove such a marvel ? I vow she sings as well as Nillson ! " " She will sing as well as Nillson some day, I have no doubt," replied Miss Wal- dron. " She has a wonderful voice." " And how did you find her out ? Did Mr. Reynolds tell you about her ? " "No," answered Beatrix; "I am in- debted to Mr. Marchmont for a knowl- edge of her ability, and, therefore, you are indebted to him for the pleasure you have enjoyed since I had great trouble in persuading Mr. Reynolds to let her ap- pear." "Indeed ! " said the young lady, turn- ing to Marchmont, who, looking thor- oughly at ease with himself and the world in general, was sitting by the young heiress's side. "And pray, Mr. March- mont, if I maybe allowed to ask, how did you find her out? " " I have a divining-rod for discovering hidden genius," replied Marchmont, calm- ly. " She will do my intuition credit, I think. What is this we are to have now ? a glee? It closes the concert, I be- lieve." " Yes, it closes the concert," said Miss Waldron. "You can fill up your ball- book as fast as you please, Emma." "It is very nearly filled," said Emma. " Only one or two dances are yet un- claimed." She looked at Marchmont as she spoke, but he did not offer to claim one, and, since the glee began, she was obliged to return to her seat. Then he turned to Miss Waldron and said : "I hope you will give me the first dance, and any other you can spare." "I hardly think I shall dance more than once or twice," she answered, care- lessly ; " and it has been a matter of tra- dition, ever since I was eighteen, that I should open my birth-night ball with one of our old friends. I have not decided who it shall be, but you know you do not belong to that class." "Unfortunately, no; but the oldest friends are not always the best. Will you not break through the tradition to- night for me?" A TEIUMPHANT D^IBUT. 87 The last words were very low, the handsome eyes very soft, but she turned her own away. "It is impossible," she said, coldly. " People would imagine a great deal which would have no foundation. I will put you down for a quadrille later in the evening, if I should dance again, which is rather unlikely." "I shall be grateful for anything you choose to give me," he answered, a little coldly, in turn. It did not need this rebuff to show him that he was out of favor to-night ; he had been aware of it ever since he first approached Miss Waldron. During the past few days she had fenced off all lov- er-like advances, and kept him very clev- erly at a distance ; but he had esteemed such conduct to be merely coquetry, and had given it little thought. Now, how- ever, he was sure that some serious in- fluence was at work, and he felt some- what uneasy as well as considerably of- fended. Under the influence of the last feeling, he left his chair and quitted the drawing- room before the glee was ended. Pass- ing along the hall, he approached the door of the apartment behind the stage. As he did so, the person of whom he was in search came rushing out so eager- ly that she almost ran into his arms. "What is the matter?" he asked, as she caught herself just in time to avoid a collision. " Has anything happened? " " O Mr. Marchmont ! " she exclaimed. Then she went on quickly : " Yes, some- thing has happened. Felix has nearly fainted, and I want water for him." " Go back, and I will bring it to you," said Marchmont. The water was easily procured, and wine also. Followed by a servant carry- ing both, Marchmont went to the room, where he found Amy and Felix alone, the members of "The Cecilia" having taken leave some time before in antici- pation of dancing. Looking very wan, Felix was reclin- ing on the end of a sofa, while Amy fanned him. He glanced up with a smile when Marchmont approached, drank the water, but declined the wine. "I did not faint," he said. "I was only tired, and Amy was frightened. I suppose I am not well. I am a little feverish, and my throat is sore ; but I will ask papa to take me home, and I shall be all right when I get to bed." " I am afraid you have over- exerted yourself," said Marchmont, taking one of the small, burning hands. I suppose I have," the boy answered, languidly. The glee ended at this moment, and the performers, together with Mr. Key- nolds, entered the room. As soon as the latter caught a glimpse of Felix's face, he hurried forward, too anxious to notice Marchmont's presence. " I was afraid it would be too much for you," he said, after the matter had been explained. " You must go home at once. Amy, get your wraps. I will go and see about the carriage." Amy's countenance fell so abjectly at this, that Felix interposed. "Please don't make Amy go, papa, because / am obliged to do so," he said. "It will be too hard! Let her stay and see the dancing." " She can't stay by herself," said Mr. Reynolds, impatiently ; " and there is no- body with whom I can leave her." Marchmont had fallen back, since he knew that to intrude himself on Mr. Rey- nolds's attention would seal Amy's fate, as far as immediate departure was con- cerned ; but some one unexpectedly en- tered, and heard Mr. Keynolds's last words. " What is that ? " said a genial voice. " Do you want some one to look after this brilliant young debutante? Can I fill the position ? It is true I am not ex- actly a chaperon, but I will see that no harm befalls her, and I'll take her safely home, if that will do." " Oh, thank you, Mr. Trafford! " said AFTER MANY DAYS. Amy, gratefully. " I am sure papa will trust me with you." " Of course," said papa, to whom at this moment she was of the least possi- ble importance, " if Mr. Trafford will be kind enough to look after you, I shall be obliged to him. Felix, my boy, I'll see about the carriage, and then we'll go." CHAPTER XVI. "l HAVE LIVED AXD LOVED." " PEAY don't give yourself any trouble about taking care of me, Mr. Trafford," said Amy, with an earnestness which it is to be hoped was disinterested. " I know you want to play whist or something of the sort, so if you will leave me in the ballroom, I shall amuse myself very well looking on at the dancing." "You expect to do something more than look on, I am sure," said Mr. Traf- ford, smiling. " I am afraid not," she answered, with a slight sigh. This conversation occurred after Mr. Reynolds and Felix had taken their de- parture ; and Mr. Trafford, with his young charge, turned to ward the ballroom, where the opening quadrille was being formed. " Oh, how delightful ! " exclaimed Amy, with an ecstasy which amused her companion, when the whole bright scene burst on her a scene so common, yet to her so novel, and so entirely the realiza- tion of many dreams. "Delightful, eh!" said the middle- aged man. " "Well, it does not strike me altogether in that light. Dancing must be rather warm work to-night, I think nevertheless, my dear, I am sorry for your sake that my dancing days are over." "Oh," said Amy, disparagingly, "I should not think it would suit you at all. One needs to be young and active to enjoy dancing. I hope somebody will ask me ! " she went on, most sincerely. " I never had a chance before to dance in a real ballroom, and what charming music ! " " Of course somebody must ask you," said Mr. Trafford, looking round as if to see whom he could collar and compel to this act of social civility. Fate at this moment interposed kindly in Amy's behalf, and spared him the necessity of any such stringent measure. Two sets had been formed on the floor, and one more couple was needed to fill out the second. It was imperatively necessary that this deficiency should be supplied, and an unemployed young gentleman near by was called upon to get a partner and come to the rescue. He glanced round vaguely in search of that article, and saw the nymph-like girl by Mr. Trafford's side. Being a Ce- cilian, he knew who she was, and felt no hesitation in addressing her; so, saying quickly, " Miss Amy do you dance ? May I have the pleasure? " Amy found her- self placed in position ; the next moment the music began, the bows were made, and she was absolutely dancing at a " real ball." For a little while the exhilaration con- sequent upon this fact, and the attention she felt it necessary to bestow on the faces and toilets round, made her forget to wonder where Marchmont was; but this preoccupation did not last very long, and in the first interval she glanced round the room for him. So far as she could ascertain, he was not to be seen, either among the dancers or the spectators. Miss Waldron she soon singled out. The young heiress was dancing in the next set, and looking magnificently hand- some in amber silk, with diamonds flash- ing on her neck and arms and in her dark hair. Amy sighed as she looked at the queenly figure a sigh which did not pro- ceed from envy so much as from a sad realization that this woman was her rival. She seemed to feel her own insignificance as she had never felt it before, under the HAVE LIVED AND LOVED." 89 shadow of the prosperity which was em- bodied in everything around her. A vague sense of the wildness of her folly came to her. How could she dream that a man of the world like Marchmont would turn away from all that Beatrix Waldron offered, for her sake ? The quadrille over, her partner de- posited her in a chair, bowed, and went away, feeling no obligation to bestow any further civility upon a person of such small importance. So the girl sat alone, and looked with dreamy eyes at the figures revolving be- fore her like colors in a kaleidoscope. As the hum of voices and laughter fell on her ear, a consciousness of isolation began to oppress her. Mr. Trafford had van- ished, and there was still no sign of Marchmont, while no one else noticed her presence in the least. " I had better have gone home with papa and Felix," she thought, a little ruefully. But these melancholy sensations were scattered like mists by the sun when the musicians began to play the delicious melody of a Strauss waltz, and a well- known voice said in her ear : Cherie, will you dance ? " " Oh, you have come at last ! " she said, turning, with delight involuntarily expressed by eye, lip, and cheek. " I thought I should not see you again and yet I don't know why I should have been surprised at that" she added, quickly, re- membering his neglect during the past few days. " You know perfectly well why yon would have had reason to be surprised at that," Marchmont answered, with a smile. "I have a great deal to say to you, and I shall make an opportunity to say it pres- ently; but let us have our waltz first. Aliens!" It was like a dream to Amy when, a minute later, they were floating over the polished floor to strains that might have made a statue dance. The golden minutes of life are very fleet, but she grasped a few of them while the blissful dance lasted. Marchrnont's choice of a partner ex- cited a little surprise and comment among his friends and acquaintances. That one so fastidious and supercilious should, out of a whole " rose-bud garden of girls," se- lect Amy Reynolds, appeared remarkable to those who knew nothing of what had gone before ; but to those who read his conduct by the light of past events the simple act seemed very much one of de- fiance. So it appeared to Mrs. Lathrop, who lowered her eye-glass with an air that ex- pressed distinctly, " After this, we may expect anything! " Florence paused to whisper : " I am afraid Brian and Beatrix have had some disagreement, mamma. Do you notice how they avoid each other? " " It is fortunately a matter of no im- portance to -MS," said Mrs. Lathrop, with dignity. " Your cousin must attend to his own affairs." The cousin thus severely abjured was attending to his own affairs with great satisfaction to himself and Amy. He had acted on an impulse which was something very rare with him in asking her to dance ; but he could not regret it as he clasped the lissome form close to him in the circling whirl of the waltz. Episodes of flirtation were so common in his life, that it amazed him to feel how loyal his fancy was to Amy. " There is a piquant charm about her," he thought, " which no doubt accounts for it." Whatever accounted for it, the fact remained that this girl, in her poverty and insignificance, possessed an attraction for him which older, fairer, richer women had failed to exert. They waltzed, with one or two short pauses for rest, until the music ceased. Then Marchmont said, abruptly : " Let us find some cooler place ; the heat and glare here are intolerable." If he had proposed to find a furnace, 90 AFTER MANY DAYS. Amy would hardly have dissented, so de- lightful was the mere consciousness of being with him again ; but she had cer- tainly no objection to being led from the ballroom to the delightful coolness and semi-darkness of the outer world. As they passed through one of tha open windows they saw that many others, like themselves, had sought the grounds. By the light of the lamps gleaming in every direction figures in groups and pairs were to be seen sauntering to and fro, now visible, then passing into sudden eclipse with a pretty, shifting effect. Marchmont muttered a malediction on the illumination. " What an absurd idea to light up trees and shrubs ! " he said. " I wonder if no spot has escaped the old general's rage for decoration ? " "The cedars are not lighted," said Amy. " Can we not sit under them ? " " We can, and we will," he answered, leading her toward them. It was by Miss Waldron's special re- quest that the cedars had been spared the " rage for decoration," and it chanced that she was sitting under them, talking earnestly to Archer, when Marchmont and Amy approached. There were two rustic seats each capable of holding two persons placed so that the triple trunk of the group of cedars separated them, while the low- drooping boughs overshadowed both. Miss Waldron and her companion were seated on the bench farthest from the house, and a pause had occurred in their conversation, when they were both star- tled by hearing Amy's bell-like tones ex- claim : " How pleasant this is ! We can see everything without being seen, the shade is so deep here." " Yes, blessed be the hand that planted these patriarchs, and still more blessed the one which refrained from hanging their boughs with lamps ! " Marchmont an- swered. " And now, Amy, oy darling, I have you for a little while all to myself." "Oh, how cruel you have been!" cried Amy, with a quiver suggestive of tears in her voice. " How could you stay away as you have done, and and let me break my heart, without saying a word ? " "Have you broken your heart?" he asked, in a caressing tone. " You don't look like it, my pretty one. I thought to-night, when you appeared, that I had never known how lovely you are, and that is saying a great deal, since I knew very well. But to stay away was a mat- ter of necessity, ma lelle. Could I go to your house, after your father had re- quested me to leave it? Plainly, there was nothing to do but to bide my time and see what I have gained by doing so ! " " And do you think it a reward ? " asked Amy, wistfully. " Are you really glad to be with me again ? " " Keally glad ? I wish I could tell you how glad I am! for, in truth, I think you have bewitched me, you small witch ! Why else should I feel, like a lovesick boy, that my only pleasure here to-night is in your society ? " "Do you feel so?" asked Amy, still wistfully. " But is it true, as I have been told," she went on, faltering and hesitat- ing, " that that you are trying to marry Miss Waldron? I cannot believe it," she cried, clasping her hands. " I only ask because I hear it so often." There was a moment's pause a pause which seemed long not only to Amy, but to the two spellbound listeners on the other side of the tree. Archer was in a horrible state of doubt. Should he take Beatrix away from what he felt was coming, or should he let her remain and hear with her own ears the evidence of her suitor's treachery ? Beatrix, on her part, felt as if some overwhelming force was laid upon her, compelling her to await Marchmont's re- ply. By a strong effort she might have spoken, perhaps, but she was utterly un- able to move. Presently Marchmont spoke slowly and gravely : " I am not sorry you have I HAVE LIVED AND LOVED.' 91 asked that question," he said. " I think it is hest to tell you the truth frankly, and I am sure you will be reasonable with re- gard to it. I am, comparatively speaking, a poor man, my pretty Amy that is, I am too poor for my position and the ob- jects I have set before myself in life. To achieve these objects one of which is political distinction I must have money ; and not only money, but certain other worldly advantages. These advantages I can best secure by a marriage with Miss "Waldron. Such a marriage will be purely of convenience, and will not alter the fact that I love you." " Come away ! " said Archer, in a low, stern voice, and involuntarily he laid his hand as he spoke on Beatrix's wrist. " This is no place for you come away ! " " One moment ! " she answered in a whisper. " "Wait one moment ! " If she wished to wait for Amy's an- swer, it came quickly enough. That sen- sation which the French call a serrement du caur held the girl for a moment in its strong grasp, but only for a moment. Despite her folly and credulity, she was not weak, and the strength of her nature asserted itself now. She drew herself resolutely out of the clasp of Marchmont's arms, which had encircled her, and looked at him in the dim light, with her fair, young face set in harder lines than it had ever worn before. " So Hugh was right! " she said; and how changed her voice sounded 1 " I have been a fool, and you have been only tri- fling with me ! You sought me out, you professed to love me, you have made me the object of gossip and slander ; and now you tell me that you are going to marry another woman, and that I have only served to amuse you 1 Perhaps I ought to have known that a man like you would not think of me in any other way ; but I have been a fool. I am a fool no longer, however ! " she cried out, with a sudden burst of passion. " Don't touch me, Mr. Marchmont; I am done with you for- ever ! " "I did not expect this, Amy," said Marchmont, beginning to think he had made a great mistake in his explanation. " I thought that, young as you are, you had more reason than most women, and that you loved me well enough to be un- selfish and understand my position." "I understand it perfectly," replied Amy, with quivering lips ; " you need not explain it any more. I have served your convenience in one way ; Miss Wal- dron is to serve it in another. I am poor and obscure now," she went on, with a dramatic intensity all the more effective for being the natural impulse and inspi- ration of the passion that possessed her ; " but I feel, I Icnow, that I shall not always be so! and if ever it is in my power to return this upon you, Brian Marchmont, I will do so mercilessly ! " u Amy," said Marchmont, coldly, " this folly is absurd and disgusting. 1 had no idea you were so weak and ignorant. If you knew anything of the world, you would know that I cannot possibly act otherwise." "I know something of the world," said a sudden voice, the tones of which were cold as ice and keen as steel, " and I am not aware that a man of the world is necessarily debarred from being a man of honor." Marchmont sprang to his feet, for once in his life thoroughly dismayed and discomposed. Before him stood a stately figure, on which a stream of light from, the windows of the ballroom fell, show- ing the clear-cut, scornful face turned full upon him. " Beatrix ! " he gasped. "Miss "Waldron, if you please," Be- atrix answered, in the same calm, cold tones. "I have never given you the right to call me anything else, and you may be assured that I never shall do so. When you did me the honor of offering yourself to me some weeks ago, I believe I told you that I wished to be certain respect- ing the man I married. That question is settled with regard to you, Mr. March- AFTER MANY DAYS. mont ; I have tested you thoroughly, and I have found you devoid of honor, devoid of truth, devoid even of that principle which men call common honesty." Marchmont threw his shoulders and his head haughtily back. "With all his faults he was no coward, and, recognizing the fact that his cause was hopelessly lost with Beatrix "Waldron, he was ready to make a retreat in good order. " It is very well known," he said, " that women have an impunity in offer- ing insults which is not allowed to men ; but I hardly fancied Miss "Waldron would avail herself of it, or that she would feel no hesitation in acknowledging herself an eavesdropper." " I have no. apology to make for being here," said Miss "Waldron, while Archer stepped quickly forward from the shade where he had lingered and placed himself by her side. " I am glad, indeed, that I was here when you came ; what I have overheard has given me no new infor- mation with regard to you, but it has made me think better of this poor girl. You have spoken in a manner that does you credit," she said, turning to Amy. " In order to make you further understand what this man is, let me te 1 ! you that one word from him would have removed all suspicion from Hugh Dinsmore with re- gard to the loss of the miniature, which has caused so much trouble. Not content with not speaking this word, he has de- liberately tried to throw suspicion on the boy whom he knew to be innocent. You wonder, perhaps, how I gained this knowledge? " she said, addressing March- mont, whom amazement rendered speech- less. " You thought yourself alone in Mr. Reynolds' s parlor when you took the miniature from Oliver; but Mr. Trafford was there before you went in. He heard everything ; and, when you dropped the picture in searching for your hat, he took it and kept it, wishing to see if you would be honorable enough to avow your share in the matter. Eeturning to Edgerton after an absence of eight days, he found that you had not spoken, and so he brought the picture to me." As her clear, incisive tones ceased, silence fell. Never in all his life had Brian Marchmont occupied such a posi- tion before one so hopeless of explana- tion, so unutterably humiliating. The blood surged in his veins like fire, while mortification and rage fairly choked him. He would fain have spoken, but for the first and last time in his life the very power of language seemed stricken from him, and it was Miss Waldron's voice which broke the silence again. " I could go into further details, but it is not worth while. I have said enough to show that I understand everything: how you have amused yourself with this child, while trying to marry me, ' purely for convenience,' and how false you have been even to that conventional honor which worldly men respect. Our ac- quaintance ends here and now. Amy, come with me." As she extended her hand and laid it on the girl's arm, drawing her gently but firmly away, Marchmont spoke hoarsely : " I decline to be put on my defense, or to answer the charges you have brought against me, in the presence of others ; but, if I may speak to you alone " She turned on him with a flash of pas- sion. " I will never willingly speak to you again, as long as we both live! " she said. " Understand that ! I am done with you, and I thank God that I never not for one moment loved you. Come, Amy." In her preoccupation she forgot Arch- er, and, since she said nothing to him, he hesitated to accompany her when she turned, and, taking Amy with her, swept away a more queenly woman than ever, in the majesty of her pride and indigna- tion a woman whom any man might have hated to lose. Though she forgot him, Archer was about to follow her, when Marchmont feeling, with a sense of relief, that here at least was some one whom he could at- 'I HAVE LIVED AND LOVED.' 93 tack moved forward a step and con- fronted him. " Miss Waldron is a woman," he said, " and, as I remarked, has therefore a cer- tain impunity in offering insult, but you are a man, and I wish to know by what right you have ventured to spy upon my conduct, to interfere with my affairs, and to play the eavesdropper to-night ? " " You can gain nothing by quarreling with me, Mr. Marchmont," replied Arch- er, with contemptuous coolness. " You must be aware that I have not spied upon your conduct, interfered with your affairs, or intentionally played the part of an eavesdropper to-night." "You are a liar!" said Marchmont, and lifted his hand. The other caught it in a grasp like iron. "That is enough," he said. "It is very natural that you should not know what you are doing now ; but if when you are sane to-morrow you still desire to hold me accountable for the part I have taken in Miss Waldron's affairs, you know where I am to be found. Good- evening." He loosed his grasp on Marchmont's arm as he spoke, and, turning on his heel, walked deliberately away. The other might not have allowed this but for the fact that he could not have detained him without creating a scene which is something that, even in mortal extremity, no well-bred man desires to do. The grounds were still full of people, though the music of a quadrille was peal- ing out from the ballroom. On a warm May night, coolness, fragrance, and unlim- ited opportunities for flirtation, seemed to the youthful mind even more desirable than dancing. Nevertheless, there were plenty of dancers "dancing in tune " when Archer, who had little fancy for ballrooms, ap- proached the house. Some rather trite reflections occurred to him, as they would have been apt to occur to any one, on the different phases of human life which often come so sharp- ly in contact the bright and dark, the tragedy and comedy, the earnestness and frivolity, discordant elements that elbow each other constantly. He felt profoundly grateful that Bea- trix "Waldron was saved from the marriage which had threatened her happiness ; but he wondered, with something of a pang, how much truth there was in those last words she had uttered those words which declared that she had never for a moment loved Marchmont. Pride would have nerved her to say that, he thought ; but was it, could it be, strictly true? He might have believed it if he could have seen Beatrix, and realized that her composure was no mere mask, but an in- herent fact. When she first discovered Marchmont's perfidy, she had been moved by it, as few women under the circum- stances could have failed to be moved but that time was past. What she had heard to-night had been but a confirma- tion of what she had heard before, and therefore its effect had been transitory. It was of Amy she thought now, and she led the girl straight to her own apart- ment. " You can be quiet here and recover yourself," she said, not ungently; "but believe me the best means of recovery will be to remember that the man with whom you have fancied yourself in love is not worth a thought much less a tear. Mr. Trafford will tell you hereafter the whole story of the miniature. I tell you that Brian Marchmont has acted in the most dishonorable manner, both to you and to me. He has made love to you be- cause you amused him; he has tried to marry me because I am rich. Let us put him out of our lives to-night, and never * think of him again." Amy looked up with something in her glance which the other did not exactly understand. Her face was perfectly calm, though white as marble, but her eyes were 94 AFTER MANY DAYS. dilated and full of an expression difficult to analyze, impossible to describe. "That may be easy to you," she an- swered, quietly, "because you said, out yonder, that you never loved him. I did. And one can't forget love in a minute can one ? I hate him oh, yes, I hate him far more than you can, for he has not made a plaything of your heart. I will never forgive him never as long as I live and, if I ever have the power, I will pay my debt to him ; but, all the same, I am obliged to suffer now, for I loved Mm!" " Contempt is better and safer than hatred, my dear," said Miss Waldron. Again the strange, brilliant eyes un- dimmed by a tear looked up at her. "Contempt will do for you," she said, " but / must hate because I have loved." The elder woman was silent in fact, she felt suddenly and oddly startled. Amy's manner was so unlike that of an ordinary girl of her age, her words were so different from those which might nat- urally have been expected from her lips, that Beatrix felt like one out of her reck- oning. She had looked for tears, prob- ably for indignation, perhaps but this calm assertion of love and hate altogether puzzled her. After a minute's pause, she said : " I must go down. Do you care to come with me, or will you stay here? " " I will stay here, thank you," Amy answered, with the same immobile quiet. " Will you please tell Mr. Traf- ford to send for me when he wants to go ? " Promising to do this, Miss Waldron went away, leaving the pretty, graceful figure alone in the luxuriously-fitted room. Even after the last echo of her foot- step ceased Amy sat motionless, listening to the gay strains of music floating up from below, looking through the wide- open casement out on the brilliant grounds and up at the blue, starry sky, thinking thinking still thinking, of the sudden blow that had darkened all things for her. CHAPTER XVII. "THE LIGHT IN THE DTTST LIES DEAD." ME. TEAFFOED, who had heard from Miss Waldron an account of what had occurred, was, like the latter, struck by the change in Amy when she came at his summons to go home. There were no signs of tears on the pale, fair young face ; there was no trace of agitation in the strangely composed, almost apathetic manner. "I am quite ready to go," she said, indifferently, when he made a remark about taking her away so early. She did not even glance toward the ballroom, which had seemed to her a palace of delight so short a time before. She took his arm as if she had been three- score, and walked out of the festive house without a glance behind. As they drove away, she turned and said, with the same odd quiet : " Will you tell me all about the min- iature that was lost ? I should like to hear the whole story. Papa will be sorry to know that Oliver was concerned in it." "Oliver's share in the matter was very slight," said Mr. Trafford. "Do you really want to hear the story ? Well," he added, partly to himself, "perhaps this is as good a time as any other. You must know, then, that, on the evening when the miniature was lost, I received a telegram summoning me away on busi- ness, and I decided to leave Edgerton that night. I had some final arrange- ments to make with your father about Felix, and, being uncertain as to how long I might be detained, I walked over to his house in order to make them. Every one seamed out. The door stood open, but no one answered my summons ; so I en- THE LIGHT IN THE DUST LIES DEAD. 95 tered the parlor, thinking that I would wait until some one appeared. I had heen there only a short time when I heard your voice at the door. Marchmont was with you " "Yes, I know," she interrupted. " Never mind that." "But it is on that that the story hinges," said Mr. Trafford. "I did not listen to your conversation. On the con- trary, I retired to a corner and lay down on a sofa, to wait until the coast was clear. Presently you ran into the house and went up-stairs. A minute later Marchmont followed, stood in the hall for an instant looking round, and then entered the parlor. I lay quite still, so that he did not perceive me ; and, after wandering about a little, he sat down directly in front of the recess where I was. He had not been there more than a minute, when Oliver rushed into the parlor, calling for you. Marchmont an- swered that you were not there, and asked what he wanted. lie replied that he had been to Dinsmore's room, and had found a picture which he had brought to show you ' as a good joke.' Marchmont went to the window, looked at it, and then told Oliver to leave it with him. The boy at first refused to do this, but, when one of his associates called him, he hur- riedly gave it up, bidding the other ' show it to Amy, for Hugh's sweetheart,' and went away. Left alone, as he fancied, Marchmont laughed, and uttered a few words, of which I only remember the expression, ' An absolute stroke of lucTc." 1 Then he slipped the miniature into his pocket, and came back to the place where he had been sitting." Here Amy interposed. "I do not understand," she said, " what you mean to imply. You surely cannot mean that a man like like Mr. Marchmont meant to Tceep the picture ? " "Not for its value," answered Mr. Trafford ; " but, for the purpose of annoy- ing Hugh Dinsmore, he certainly meant to keep it." "But why should he have wished to annoy Hugh ? " "I am surprised that you need to ask that question ! " answered Mr. Trafford, a little dryly. " You are not aware, then, that Dinsmore charged Marchmont some time before with trifling with you, and making you the subject of injurious gos- sip, and by way of reward was knocked down and left senseless in the highway, where Archer found him some time later ? " Amy's small hands clasped together with painful force, but her voice was still firm and even when she answered, "No, I did not know it." " She has wonderful self-control for a woman and so young a woman ! " Mi'. Trafford thought. " It is true, neverthe- less," he said, aloud; "therefore the in- ference is, that Marchmont's chief motive for acting as he has done was a desire to injure Dinsmore. In fact, there is no other motive which possibly explains his conduct. "When he came back to the place where he had been sitting, it was to look for his hat ; in doing this the min- iature dropped from his pocket unob- served, and after he left the room I picked it up. A glance showed me its value, and, wondering a little how the matter would end if the picture mysteriously disappeared, I put it in my pocket and walked off. Two hours later I left Edg- erton. "When I returned and heard of the loss of the miniature, I sent for Oliver, as you know, and asked the meaning of his silence. He confessed that he had been intimidated by Marchmont, and had held his tongue from fear of the conse- quences. Reassured on this point, he was willing enough to speak ; so I brought him and the picture to Miss "Waldron, who sent at once for Dinsmore. Silence followed his last words. "What Amy thought of the story, he did not know she uttered not a word ; and a minute later the carriage drew up at Mr. Eeynolds's door. Mr. Trafford dismissed it after he had assisted her to alight, and there was some- 96 AFTER MANY DAYS. thing very kindly in his manner as he led her up the steps and opened the door. In the passage a lamp was burning. He paused a moment to take the cold little hand in his, to look with pity into the white young face that in an hour had been robbed of its brightness and bloom. " Good-night, my dear," he said, gen- tly. " I am sorry that your triumph should have been overshadowed like this. I would have had it otherwise, if I could." "My triumph," repeated Amy, in the tone of one who vaguely recalls something forgotten. " Oh ! that does not matter ! Good-night, and thank you for taking care of me." Neither face nor voice changed in its apathetic calm, while her hand slipped out of his like a bit of ice. He was obliged to go away, in order that she might fasten the door after him, but he did so with a sense of discomfort. " Something out of the ordinary way, there ! " he thought, as he found himself on the street, proceeding toward Mrs. Crenshaw's. "If she were not so young, I should understand it better. Despite her youth, I fear the blow has struck very deep. Poor, pretty little Amy! it is hardly fair to blame her for being a fool, since we are all fools, more or less, at times in our lives ! " Amy having, meanwhile, barred the door, took the lamp and slowly went up- stairs. Her quietude was no mere mask lent by pride and courage ; she felt like" one who had been stunned, and in whom sensation for a time was dead. "When she entered her chamber, not even the recollection of the excitement, the hope, the longing, with which she went forth from it, had power to move her. She laid aside the dress which she had put on with so much innocent vanity, and took the withered roses from her hair all with the same apathy. In truth, she felt like one in a dream. Those vivid, terrible minutes under the cedars alone seemed real, and she did not lose the memory of them for an instant. After she had extinguished the light and crept to bed, her mind continued to go over the same thing with that madden- ing persistence which makes one some- times appreciate what the agony of mental derangement must be. Every look, every word, every accent, was recalled again and again. Even her short snatches of sleep brought no relief, for memory was then, if possible, more vivid. In these brief, troubled dreams, she lived over the whole episode once more. At daylight she was roused from this broken, unrefreshing sleep by a knock at her door. " Who is .there ? " she asked, starting up. " What is the matter? " "It is I, Amy," her father replied. "Felix is ill, and I want you to go to him as quickly as possible. I am going for the doctor." "I will be there in a minute," she an- swered, springing out of bed. Her head ached from excitement and loss of sleep, while her hands trembled so that she could scarcely dress ; but she managed to slip on something in the way of attire, and went to Felix's room. A glance at the boy's face was suffi- cient to tell her that he was very ill. His fever, which had been high all night, had abated somewhat and left a wan pallor behind ; the thin face looked thinner than ever, the great eyes were surrounded by dark-blue circles, and the lips were pale and dry. " I am sorry papa called you," he said. " There was no need, and you must be tired. I hope you had a pleasant time." "I am not tired. I had rather be doing something," she answered, evading a reply to his question. Then she laid her hand on his forehead, saying, "Does your head ache ? " " Yes ; but it is my throat that trou- bles me," he answered. "I did not tell papa, but, day before yesterday, I went to see Harry Wilson, who has diphtheria. If I have that, Amy, please don't come round me, for you may take it." " It would not matter in the least if I 'THE LIGHT IN THE DUST LIES DEAD.' 97 did," said Amy, who at this time would not have shrunk from the plague. " I am not afraid." "When the doctor came, the first thing he did was to feel Felix's pulse, the sec- ond to look at his throat. He had no sooner glanced into the latter, than the gravity that settled over his countenance showed his opinion of the case. He asked a few questions, then walked to the win- dow and took out his prescription-hook. Mr. Reynolds followed, and laid a ner- vous grasp on his arm. "Is it anything serious?" he asked, in a husky voice. " The hoy is often un- well; he is very nervous and delicate. I have not thought much of this illness." " It is very serious, I fear," replied the doctor, gravely. " Your son has the most malignant form of diphtheria. I will do my best, but I cannot conceal from you the fact that his situation is critical. The disease is very contagious, and I advise you to send the other children out of the house at once." "My God! " said Mr. Reynolds, turn- ing ghastly pale. The last words fell on his ear unheed- ed. What were the other children to him? He did not even give them a thought in comparison with Felix Felix, his idol, his hope, his pride ! " Call in other advice ! " he said. " Do anything do everything ! You may take all that I am worth, if you will make Felix well ! " "I shall do my best," the doctor said, again, looking with compassion at the speaker. And so it happened that a trouble of the most real description laid its grasp on Amy, shaking her out of the self-absorp- tion which would otherwise have over- come her. In the terrible hours of watching and anxiety which followed by Felix's bedside, she did not forget her own pain, nor lose the heavy, aching sense of the blow that had fallen upon her ; but she had no time to dwell upon it. Even in ordinary cases 7 there is nothing which makes such a con- stant demand upon the attention as the duties of a sick-room, and here the fight between life and death was short and sharp. Very short, certainly; for, when the second morning dawned, the doctor plain- ly said, " No hope," and it was evident to the almost frantic father that Felix was sinking fast. Others came and went, but he did not stir from the bedside, and his face seemed to grow momently more and more hag- gard as he sat watching the dying boy, as if counting every painful, fluttering breath.. "I shall not go to Germany after all, papa," Felix whispered once. And Mr. Reynolds answered, passion- ately : " You will you must ! God will not be so cruel as to take you from me." Alas! such protests avail little when the unalterable decree has gone forth. Not to Germany, indeed, but to a far more distant country was the young trav- eler bound ; and, before the sun sank, his painful passage thither was over, and only the fair, cold shell of mortality was left behind. Those who saw Mr. Reynolds's grief were not likely ever to forget it. It is seldom that human sorrow is so intense, so passionate, so bitter. Usually the poig- nancy of the sharpest grief is in a measure tempered by that sense of the irrevocable to which humanity is forced to submit, and against which rebellion is so absolutely hopeless. But in this instance there was not the faintest semblance of resignation. One or two people, who ventured to speak of such a thing to Mr. Reynolds, were instantly silenced by the fierce impatience with which he turned upon them. He had always possessed the high-strung, irritable temperament which is peculiar to musicians, and now grief and despair seemed to possess him like a consuming fire. He would not quit Felix's body by 98 AFTER MANY DAYS. day or night; and, since no one dare ap- proach him, the question of the funeral became a serious difficulty. The difficulty, however, was at last overcome by Mr. Trafford. He alone had courage to interfere to say what must be done, and to make the necessary ar- rangements for laying away that placid figure which was, and yet was not, Felix. Mr. Keynolds submitted, and after this especially after the funeral a change came over him. His passionate despair gave place to a melancholy from which nothing had power to rouse him. He made no effort to resume the labor of his life; he took no interest in anything. His other children were objects of indif- ference to him. With Felix all the pur- poses of his life seemed to end. This did not last very long. Medical science sternly refuses to recognize such a disease as " heart-break ; " so the doc- tors found some other cause to account for the fact that Mr. Keynolds's life sud- denly snapped short, like a worn string. It was Hugh Dinsmore who entered the parlor, a few days after Felix's funeral, and found the musician sitting silent and motionless at the piano, with his face bowed upon the keyboard. Hugh hesi- tated for a moment, and then addressed him. There was no answer. He spoke again. Still no reply. Then he advanced, and, with a strange sense of awe and foreboding, touched the still figure re- coiling instantly with an involuntary cry. There could be no doubt of the Pres- ence which had entered before him. Sit- ting alone, with the instrument which was so closely associated with his dead boy, the heart-broken father had silently passed away forever. At the time this occurred, Amy was lying dangerously ill with diphtheria which disease, as the doctor had antici- pated, she had taken from Felix. She was stricken down with it the day after the funeral, but her father had not paid the least attention to the fact. In vain .Clara tried to awaken his anxiety, think- ing that any distraction of mind would be an advantage to him. If he heard, he did not heed her. What was Amy's life or death to him after Felix was gone? Poor Amy also came very near going to join " the vast majority beyond." On the border-land of life and death she hov- ered for days ; and only the superb vital- ity of youth, the rallying-power of a strong constitution, saved her from sink- ing as Felix had sunk. It was at this critical period that her father's death occurred. Every effort was made by Clara and the doctor, aided by Mr. Trafford, to keep the sad event from her knowledge, and they partially suc- ceeded. The worst was over, and she had slowly and languidly entered upon the road to health before she heard of this later bereavement. The intelligence came to her accidentally, as such intelli- gence often does. Mariette of whom Mrs. Crenshaw had taken charge during all this time of trouble and grief was the bearer of the sorrowful news. When the child was admitted for the first time to see her sister, Clara forgot to warn her not to mention her father's death, and so it happened that she made some allusion to "poor papa," which told Amy the truth a truth, it may be added, which she partly suspected from her father's absence, and from the manner in which her questions regarding him were evaded. Nevertheless, when she heard that her fears had not outrun reality, her heart seemed to stand still, and a sense of deadly faintness rushed over her. But she did not faint ; she controlled herself by a strong effort, and beckoned the child nearer to her. " Tell me the truth, Mariette exactly the truth," she said. " Is papa dead ? " Mariette's great blue eyes opened wide and filled with tears. "O Amy," she cried, in an awed tone, " didn't yon know that? Papa's been dead a week !" " Dead ! " repeated Amy, as if she could hardly grasp the terrible fact. Then she threw up her arms with a cry of an- THE LIGHT IN THE DUST LIES DEAD.' 99 gnish. "My God! I am indeed deso- late ! " she said, and burst into passionate weeping. The immediate effect of this shock was prostration, but the remote effect \vas to hasten the girl's recovery. Pre- vious to this she had not seemed to care whether she lived or died, and her listless indifference had greatly retarded her con- valescence. Now she became feverishly anxious to regain her health. " Make me well pray, make me well at once ! " she said, imploringly, to the doctor. "A little while ago I wanted to die, but now I know that I cannot afford to do so. I must get well, to work for Mariette and the boys. They have no- body to depend on but me." " You must be patient," answered the doctor ; and, despite the callousness which was the result of his profession, he looked with a sense of compassion at the childish girl, who even in the depth of her deso- lation did not stand alone, but was bur- dened by others weaker than herself. "You have been very ill; you cannot recover in a day. Don't let your rnind be troubled. Leave the question of what you must do when you get well to your friends. You are too young to decide." "I have no friends," she answered. "There is nobody to decide but myself, and I have determined what I will do." "You have at least one very kind friend," said the doctor. " That is Mr. Trafford." " I had forgotten him," she said, quiet- ly. "Yes, he is kind, but it is only the kindness of a stranger. He has nothing to do with my life." Despite her anxiety, her recovery was slow; and during those long hours she lay for the most part with idle hands, gazing out of the open window at the green boughs forming a network against the blue sky boughs in which the un- numbered sweet-voiced birds of the South sang constantly. " How beautiful! " she exclaimed, one day, when a mocking-bird had been pour- ing forth a tide of melody. " I wonder if I can sing as well as that? I think I can. The doctor says I must not strain my throat ; but it is quite well now, and there is no reason why I should not sing." " Mrs. Crenshaw says she don't expect you'll ever be able to sing any more, Amy," said Mariette, who was in the room. Amy started as if she had been struck. The idea of any injury to her voice had not occurred to her, and the suggestion was like a dart of fire. Her hand instinctively went to her throat. "What if it should be so ? Was there any limit to the cruelty of Fate ? Might not this power her last plank in the midst of shipwreck be taken from her, as everything else had been ? This thought was so appalling that she was literally unable to utter a word. Every hope and ambition for the future centred in her voice. If that was lost, or injured, what weapon was left her with which to fight the world ? "0 Heaven! if my voice is lost, let me die ! " she exclaimed, in the agony of her fear; but, fortunately for us, such prayers as these are seldom granted. The next day, unable to endure the torture any longer, she waited until Clara had put the room in order, placed her in a large chair before the window, where of late she had been able to sit, and had finally gone away ; then she clasped her white, thin hands tightly together, like one in the act of prayer, and opened her lips to sing. At first she failed to make a sound, but saying to herself, " I am ner- vous ; that is what is the matter ! " she made another effort. The notes which she strove to utter came then, but so harsh, so flat, so utterly unlike what they had ever been before, that she paused in dismay ; and at this moment the door opened, and Clara ush- ered the doctor in. He was a little startled to see his pa- tient rise from her chair and advance toward him, looking more like a spirit 100 AFTER MANY DAYS. than a woman in her loose white drapery, with her great eyes shining out of her hollow face, and one hand grasping her throat. " Tell me ! " she cried out passionately. " Has it gone forever ? have I lost my voice ? " The doctor changed color, and glanced sternly at Clara. "I thought I told you not to let her sing! " he said. " I didn't know " Clara began, in self-defense, when Amy interrupted : "How could she prevent my singing, if I chose to do so ? and I did choose to test my voice. I can do nothing with it now but will it recover its power? Don't trifle with me ! " she cried, as she saw hesitation on his face. " I want the truth, and I I am strong enough to bear it." "I am not sure of that," said the doctor, gravely. " This excitement is too much for you, I am sure. Sit down. Let me feel your pulse." Amy sank again into her chair, because she was unable to stand, but she drew her wrist impatiently away from him. " I care for nothing but my voice," she said. " Nothing else matters. Tell me the truth about that ! " " My poor child, I fear that your voice will never again be what it has been," he answered, with sincere compassion in his tones. "I would have spared you the knowledge of this until you were stronger, but since you insist " He stopped, for her face was growing whiter under his gaze, her eyes dilating with an expression which he never forgot. " Do you mean," she said, " that I can never sing in public ? " " It is not likely that you will ever be able to do so," he replied, feeling that he had no right to withhold the truth from one who so earnestly desired to know it. "The organs of your throat are, I fear, hopelessly injured." She looked at him for one moment with a wild appeal in her eyes against certainty. Then her head sank back, her lids fell. Unconsciousness followed this last, crushing blow. CHAPTER XVIII. " I WILL HOLD YOTJR HAND BUT AS LONG AS ALL MAY." WHEN Brian Marchmont left the grounds of Cedarwood on the night of the fete, he was tingling in every nerve with that sense of defeat and mortifica- tion which of all sensations is the most intolerable to a man of his stamp. Added to this, he was so bitterly wroth with the folly which had placed him in such a position, that for the first time in his life he turned savagely upon himself. "I deserve it all," he thought, "for the absolute insanity of which I have been guilty ! If I were twenty, the thing would bear a different aspect, but at my age, with my knowledge of the world, my clearly-defined objects in life, to peril and lose so much for the sake of an insignifi- cant girl, there is no excuse for me none ! By Heaven I I could almost sentence my- self to a strait-waistcoat, when I think of the madness with which I have walked into the net spread by that fellow Archer. I know that he has been spying upon me from the first. I now feel sure that Amy was right, that evening on the creek, when she said the man on the opposite bank was he. Then, that infernal minia- ture how can I possibly put the facts he has distorted in their true light ? It may be impossible to do so ; but, at least, he shall pay dearly for his interference." Nor was this any vaporing threat, any idle menace born of anger. Sybarite and epicurean though Marchmont was, these qualities lay merely on the surface, while underneath was a nature possessing strong passions, and capable of resolute and de- termined action when those passions were roused. The next morning he amazed Edward "I WILL HOLD YOUR HAND BUT AS LONG AS ALL MAY." 101 Lathrop by requesting him to bear a challenge to Archer. That young gen- tleman took the cigar he was smoking from his lips, and stared at his cousin as if he thought sudden lunacy had over- taken him. "Archer!" he repeated. "Why, there isn't a more inoffensive fellow than Archer in existence ! You are surely not in earnest, Brian? " " Am I likely to jest on such a sub- ject? " asked Marchmont, with stern im- patience. " Inoffensive ! A snake may be inoffensive till it turns and strikes one ; but no wise man will spare it after that." " At least," said the other, more grave- ly, "you cannot expect me to act for you unless you give me some idea of the cause of the difficulty." " That is easily given," answered Marchmont. " The fellow has made him- self a spy upon my conduct for some time past has interfered in the most insolent manner in my affairs and has finally been successful in producing an estrange- ment between Miss Waldron and myself." " Indeed ! " said Lathrop. He began to comprehend the gravity of the situa- tion, and his own countenance reflected it. " I should not have suspected Archer of such a thing," he said. "I thought him a man of honor. Are you sure there is no mistake ? " " There is no possible room for mis- take," replied Marchmont. " The object he has in view is to marry Miss Waldron ; I knew that the first time I ever saw him, but it is an object he shall not achieve. Unfortunately, it is out of my power to fight with such weapons as he has used, but pistols are no bad substi- tute." " By Jove! " said Lathrop, lifting his hand and pulling his mustache. The tone in which Marchmont uttered the last words, and the flash like blue steel from his eyes which accompanied them, made it unmistakably plain that affairs were very serious indeed. No man entertained a more rooted aversion to unpleasant things than Lathrop, and up to this point in his career he had man- aged to keep clear of them ; but he felt that he could not refuse to stand by his cousin, however disagreeable the conse- quences might be. u I am sorry, very sorry, for this," he said, presently ; " but, of course, I will go to Archer if you insist upon it. Per- haps he may be able to make some ex- planation, to offer some apology " "There is no possibility of such a thing," Marchmont interrupted. " I don't think he is likely to refuse to fight. If he does, I shall know how to deal with him. Last night he said that, if I desired to hold him to account, I knew where he was to be found." "If he said that, he is not likely to refuse to fight. But it is a most unfor- tunate affair, and will cause an immense amount of talk," said Lathrop, who now devoutly wished that Marchmont was some other man's cousin and guest. Notwithstanding his reluctance, he bore the challenge to Archer, who re- ceived it without surprise. "Mr. Marchmont would be wiser if he accepted the consequences of his con- duct without calling attention to it," he said, quietly ; " but that is altogether his own affair. If he chooses to hold me accountable for the part I have played, I am willing to afford him satisfaction." "I know only what my cousin has told me of the matter," said Lathrop, who began to feel more and more that he was engaged in a very unpleasant thing ; " but from my personal regard for your character, Mr. Archer, I hoped that some amicable settlement might be made." " I regret that no proposal of the kind can come from me," said Archer. " Mr. Marchmont asserts that I have interfered in his private affairs in an unjustifiable manner. I acknowledge the fact of in- terference, but hold that every man is justified in endeavoring to unmask a scoun- drel. I have, however, no intention of shirking the consequences of my acts. If 102 AFTER MANY DAYS. Mr. Marchmont wishes to fight, I am ready to meet him when and wherever he likes." "You are a very impracticable and belligerent pair! " said Lathrop, in a tone of disgusted annoyance. " I have always believed that, if the principals were reason- able, such affairs as this could be arranged without difficulty ; but, when the princi- pals are not reasonable, there is evidently nothing to be done but to load the pistols. Of course, you will refer me to some friend, Mr. Archer? " "I have not thought of it," replied Archer; "but I will endeavor to find some one to fill the position, and send him to you in the course of a few hours." In the course of a few hours Mr. Arch- er's friend waited upon Mr. Lathrop, and all details of the affair were settled. . The meeting was arranged to take place the next morning, at a secluded place about a mile beyond the outskirts of Edgerton, and both parties agreed to keep the matter as quiet as possible. For once this was done. No hint or rumor that a duel was impending electri- fied Edgerton as the day wore on that day which Amy spent in watching by Felix's bedside; which Miss Waldron spent in her chamber at Cedarwood, with what her maid reported to be a " splitting headache ; " which Marchmont spent in the Lathrop smoking-room, with a French novel for a companion ; and which Arch- er, with a distinct knowledge of the dan- ger before him, spent in his usual tread- mill of business. \ As evening began to close he threw aside the pen with which he had been oc- cupied all day, and, leaning back in his chair, looked out of the window at which he sat. Although his office was in the midst of buildings, it chanced that this window commanded a glimpse of the sky a glimpse that was often like a vesper to him at the end of a weary day. Just now the sky was flushed with the divinest beauties of sunset. Heaven it- self seemed opening where the splendor burned in masses of saffron and rose, of violet and vivid gold. Green boughs, drooping with heavy foliage, interlaced across it, but the glory shone through, and fell on the worn face of the young man, whose quiet, rather sombre eyes were turned toward it. Was he thinking whether he should ever look on it again ? If so, he gave no sign of such a thought ; but, hearing a clock in the neighborhood strike seven, he rose, put away his papers, locked his safe, and went out. The evening was rarely beautiful one of those lovely, fragrant evenings of May, when the earth is so fair that day seems loath to leave it ; and, as Archer felt tho delicious sweetness and softness of tho air on his face, almost unconsciously he turned his steps in the direction of Cedar- wood. "I shall not go in," he thought in apology for this act of weakness. "I shall only look at the place, and if possi- ble catch a glimpse of her for the last time, perhaps." So, leaving the dusty streets behind, he took his way over the dewy, sweet- smelling fields which spread out like green velvet in the twilight, facing the pomp of sunset now burning faint and fainter in the far west, while a golden planet shone in the softly-tinted sky above. When he reached the small gate giv- ing admittance to Cedarwood, he paused, and, resting one arm on it, stood for sev- eral minutes motionless. Koses were clustering above and around him, exhal- ing their sweet incense on the air; a mocking-bird was singing in an oak-tree near by, as if it would fain ravish the world with melody ; but he needed neither perfume nor full-throated song. His eyes swept over the lawn to where the house stood, with lights gleaming here and there from its wide-open doors and windows. Surely her figure would pass across one of these windows surely his passion- ate desire to obtain a glimpse only a "I WILL HOLD YOUR HAND BUT AS LONG AS ALL MAY." 103 glimpse of her, would be gratified! This desire seemed to grow in strength from his very nearness ; so that he was forced to constrain himself to resist the impulse to go forward at all cost and see her, look into her eyes, touch her hand once more for the last time, perhaps. He had bared his head to the soft breeze blowing out of the 1 golden west ; and as he stood framed by the roses, with his yearning gaze bent on the house, the manly figure, the strong, earnest face, made a picture worth noting worth ad T miring, indeed. Beatrix "Waldron thought so, as, in the course of an idle stroll around the lawn, she suddenly came in sight of the wicket-gate and paused, surprised by the appearance of Archer. At first she thought that he was simply on his way to the house ; but when she saw the im- mobility of his attitude, and observed the intent, unchanging gaze, surprise merged into curiosity. She lingered in the shade, watching him, for some time ; but he did not move, and she was obliged at last to come forward. " Good-evening, Mr. Archer," she said, and the unexpected sound of the full, rich voice made him start. "May I ask what there is in the appearance of Cedarwood whicli seems to fascinate and yet repel you? I have been watching you for several minutes, and you have not stirred an inch, or taken your eyes once from the house." " Is it possible you have been watch- ing me? "asked Archer, coloring. " It is a little odd that I should not have felt it ; there is usually so much magnetism in the gaze." "You were so absorbed in thought, that even magnetism was unable to affect you. I should not think you would be a good subject for mesmerism." "I am very sure I should not," he an- swered, looking at her with a sense of pleasure, the expression of which he vain- ly strove to repress from his tone and glance. Was it because he thought that he might never see her ace again, that it appeared to him so fair just now? "Blessed be God who has made beautiful women," say the Arabs, and he could have echoed the benediction, as Beatrix stood in the lovely half-light of the gloam- ing, her graceful figure outlined by the dusky shade from which she had emerged, her stately head bare, her face more cameo-like than ever in its paleness that soft brunette paleness which contrasts so effectively with dark eyes and hair, " Have you come to inquire how we have survived the affair of last night?" she asked. " I have had a severe head- ache all day ; but after dinner I came out to see if the fresh air would not help me, and it has done so. I don't want to be ungrateful to papa, but I hardly think I shall ever consent to give another ball." " I should not imagine that there was any pleasure in it," he said, not thinking at all of what he was saying only think- ing of her, and of the difficulty of tearing himself away, now that he had obtained even more than the glimpse he had de- sired. Feeling the abstraction of his manner, she glanced at him in some surprise. "Are you not coming in? " she asked. "Papa is always glad to see you, and I though I am very stupid I can at least give you a cup of coffee." "You are very kind," he said, hesita- tingly ; " but I did not mean to come in. I was sure you would not feel like being annoyed by visitors to-night." "Not by ordinary visitors," she an- swered, with her peculiar frankness ; "but I consider you very much as ami de la maison. Come and be bored," she said, with a smile. "I cannot allow you to stand and look over the gate and then go away." The invitation of her voice and man- ner was more than Archer could resist. "For the last time, perhaps," he said to himself again, and opened the gate. They slowly strolled across the lawn, the incense of flowers and the sweet notes 104 AFTER MANY DAYS. of birds making the twilight delicious, and entered the drawing-rooin through one of the windows. Here they found General Waldron, walking up and down with his hands be- hind his back. " Good-evening, Archer," he said, brightening visibly. "I am glad to see you. Beatrix, I have been waiting for you to come in and give me a cup of coffee." "Mr. Archer detained me, papa," said Beatrix. "I found him leaning over the gate, and it was some time before I could prevail upon him to advance any farther. But, considering the dew unwholesome, I thought it best to bring him in for a cup of coffee." "Let us have it at once," said the general, ringing the bell. The coffee was brought, and, having made Archer confess that he had not been to supper, Miss "Waldron ordered some for him. The general joined in doing justice to this repast, while Beatrix sat by in a low easy-chair with her coffee-cup in her hand an indolent, graceful figure, with one slender, arched foot uncovered by the flowing sweep of her drapery, and the light catching the whitenese of her throat, the glimmer of gold around her wrists, and a fragrant yellow rose drooping among the dark braids of her hair. As was natural under the circum- stances, they talked of the entertainment of the evening before, of the toilets and the flirtations, of the concert and its sucess. "Edgerton will some day be very proud of the fact that Amy Reynolds made her debut here," said Miss "Waldron. "She has a magnificent voice," said Archer. " I had heard a good many ru- mors about it, but I paid little attention to them, knowing how prone to exagger- ation the popular judgment is." " I suppose her father intends her for the stage," said the general. " Yes," answered Beatrix. Then she added, with a sigh, " Poor little Amy! " "Is there any need to pity her?" asked the general, with some surprise. "A petted, popular prima-donna is one of the most enviable people in the world as the world goes." " I am not sure of that," said Beatrix; "but I was not thinking of her public career when I spoke. I am sorry for her for other reasons." " She does not look as if she was an object for compassion in any way," said General Waldron, recalling the Psyche- like figure, the radiant, triumph-flushed face of the night before. Beatrix glanced at Archer, and, as their eyes met, the expression of his brought a flush to her cheek. It was an earnest, interrogative expression, which she imagined that she understood, and which she resented a little. "How dare he imagine that I have suffered by the treachery of that man? " she thought ; and, rising, she moved away to where the piano stood open, with its ivory keyboard gleaming in the subdued- lamplight. "Shall I sing for you, papa?" she said ; and, without waiting for an answer, she sat down and began one of the bal- lads that the general loved. "When it ended she found that Archer had crossed the floor and was standing by her. " You misunderstood me," he said, in a low voice. "I saw that in your face. I was thinking something very different from what you suppose. I was wonder- ing since you are generous enough to be sorry for that foolish girl whether you would be sorry for some one else under other circumstances." " You talk in enigmas," she said, look- ing at her hands, which were modulating a succession of soft chords. " "Whether I was sorry or not, would depend upon how much sympathy or compassion ' some one else ' deserved. I am sorry for that poor girl, foolish as she has been. I am sure she is suffering and one can suffer very keenly at sixteen." "Very superficially, as a rule; but "I WILL HOLD YOUR HAND BUT AS LONG AS ALL MAY." 105 that does not matter. An aching finger is bad, if one has never known anything worse." " And an aching heart is never matter for a sneer," said she, glancing up at him. " Heaven forbid that I should sneer at it ! " he said, with an earnestness which impressed her. " You surely did not think that I meant to do so ? I only thank God that it is not your heart which is aching," he went on, quickly. " I was afraid very much afraid that you might care for that man enough to suffer from the knowledge of his treachery." "Fortunately, my heart is not easily touched," she said, still playing softly. " I have been provoked with my insensi- bility once or twice ; bat I suppose it is for the best : ' Some there are that shadows kiss, Some have but a shadow's bliss,' and are content. I could not be. I can live without gold, but I cannot I will not accept tinsel for it." " Yet there is gold in the world," he said, half unconsciously, and in a voice so full of passion that Beatrix suddenly started, and, instead of a chord, struck a jarring discord from the keys on which her fingers rested. At that instant Florence Lathrop's warning which for a time she had for- gotten recurred to her with startling force. Was it true that this man felt toward her as a lover ? Had she uncon- sciously made discord indeed in the fair, well-ordered purpose of his life ? "Perhaps so," she answered, so ab- sently and constrainedly that Archer knew he had betrayed himself, and then she glided into the delicate melody of one of the " Songs without Words." He stood motionless while she played it, and when it was finished he said, with his usual manner : "Although this is very pleasant, I must not forget that you are, of necessity, tired. Let me thank you for a delightful evening, and say good-night." Contrary to custom, he extended his hand extended it so gravely and quietly, that Beatrix could not hesitate to place hers in it. For an instant only for an instant he held it in a close, warm grasp, looking the while into her eyes with an expres- sion she afterward remembered and com- prehended. Then, again saying "Good- night," he turned, crossed the room, spoke to the general, and went away. The next morning, when Miss Wai- dron came down to breakfast, she was surprised to find her father's place vacant and her father gone. She glanced with astonishment at his coffee-cup only half emptied, at the paper thrown aside un- read, and then rang the bell sharply. " Where is your master, Price? " she said to the servant who answered it, and who had a startled look on his face. " Master's gone into town, Miss Bea- trix," answered Price, solemnly, and then paused as if uncertain whether or not to say more. " Gone into town ! " repeated Beatrix. "Why, he has not taken his breakfast! " "No, m'm; he was only just begin- ning it," assented Price, gravely. " What called him away ? " she asked. Price's face grew more solemn, but it was a solemnity mixed with pleasure that pleasure which all people of his class feel in being the first to tell a piece of sensational news. " Master was just beginnin' his break- fast," he said, " when he heard of a duel that's been fought in Edgerton. Bob, what brought the mail, told him; and when he heard that Mr. Archer was dead, or dying, he went right off." Beatrix's eyes opened wide on the speaker, but, with an effort to compose herself, she said, quietly : " Who fought the duel and what had Mr. Archer to do with it? There is some absurd mistake " " Oh, no, m'm, there isn't ! " inter- posed Price, eagerly. " Mr. Archer fought 106 AFTER MANY DAYS. the duel him and Mr. Marchraont, at daylight this morning and Bob saw them bringing in Mr. Archer in a carriage. He wasn't quite dead then, but they said he couldn't live." Beatrix sank into the chair by which she was standing, her face growing white as the morning-dress she wore. In the terrible shock of the moment her heart almost ceased to beat. With a sudden flash of intuition she understood every- thing. It was for hia interests in her affairs that Marchmont had held Archer to account, and that the latter paid so dearly ! As the thought occurred to her, a great sense of passionate indignation overmastered every other consideration. "The wretch!" she said, between her clinched teeth. " How dare he take such a revenge as this?" Then she looked up at Price, pale as marble. " Take a horse and go into Edg- erton at once ! " she said. " Find your master, and ask him to send me word ex- actly how Mr. Archer is. Don't waste a minute ; go and return as quickly as pos- sible." When the servant was gone she turned away from the breakfast-table with that terrible sickness of the heart which un- nerves the whole body and sends a sen- sation of deadly faintness to the very tips of the fingers. The morning was exuber- antly bright and glorious one of those mornings of mingled spring and summer when Nature seems rendering joyous thanks to her Creator in every gleam of sunshine, every matin song of her feathered choir. But to Beatrix there was something ghastly in all this bright- ness. With earth BO fair aronnd and heaven so pure above, the life of a brave and honorable man had been put in deadly peril cut short, perhaps because he had tried to save her from deception and mis- ery. She wandered restlessly into the draw- ing-room ; but, when her eyes fell on the spot where he had bidden her farewell the night before, a great throb of pain seized her heart; she suddenly remem- bered the wistful, intent gaze with which he had been regarding the house when she found him at the gate. "This was what it meant ! " she cried. " And I how cold, how constrained, how unsym- pathetic I was ! " There was deep wretchedness in such thoughts, but she could not banish them. She left the drawing-room and walked restlessly up and down the portico, until at last after what seemed an intermi- nable length of time Price appeared in sight galloping down the road. How long he took to reach the gates ! how long to canter up the avenue to where she stood on the steps, shivering in the warm sunshine ! Her fingers were cold as ice, and trem- bling so that she could scarcely control them, when she took the note he brought and tore it open. This was what the gen- eral wrote : " Archer is desperately wounded, and the doctors seem to entertain very little hope of his recovery. He is shot through the lung, and it is surprising that he was not killed outright. Marchmont is un- hurt. Both have observed great reticence with regard to the cause of the affair." The paper dropped from her hand, and she stood gazing at the wide, beautiful prospect before her. Desperately wound- ed! and that for no fault of his own, but because another man chose to be treacherous and dishonorable ! " He was mad to meet him ! " she murmured, half aloud. " But, if he dies, I think I could find strength to kill March- mont myself! " CHAPTER XIX. "THE THOBXS i BEAP ABE OF THE TBEE I PLANTED." In all her after-life Beatrix Waldron never forgot that day so joyous in its beauty, so full of the soft whispering of THE THORNS I REAP ARE OF THE TREE I PLANTED." 107 leaves, the songs of birds, the multitudi- nous sweet sounds of summer when she was alone at Oedarwood with the thought that Archer was dying. The great empty house seemed to her strangely hushed and silent, and even the golden glory of the sunshine in her imagi- nation was full of pathos. During the long, bright hours of the morning she wan- dered aimlessly to and fro, hoping con- stantly that her father would return ; but when the time for luncheon came there was still no sign of him. Luncheon at least the pretense of it being over, the afternoon waned in mellow loveliness, but still the general did not come. As hour after hour passed, Beatrix's impatience and anxiety grew al- most uncontrollable. Once she ordered the carriage, but countermanded the or- der before the horses had been harnessed. She longed to drive into Edgerton and learn exactly how matters stood; but a fear lest her name might be more closely associated with the affair than she knew deterred her from doing so. If it should be on every one's lip as she had known other women's names in connection with duels she felt that she could not bear to appear and run the gantlet of observa- tion which is leveled upon the heroine of such tragedies. Neither did she like to send another message to her father. That shadow of propriety that question, " What will be thought of it ? "which stands by women in all hours and at all times of their lives, made her hesitate even in this. " After all, why should I be in so much haste? " she said to herself. " If the news is bad, 1 shall hear it soon enough. If it is good but, alas ! I fear there is little hope of that." As this thought formed in her mind, the sound of wheels and horses' feet ad- vancing up the avenue made her start. She moved hastily to the window, but, in- stead of the barouche which had been sent for her father, it was the Lathrop carriage which drew up before the door. Surprise was her predominant sensa- tion on recognizing the equipage a sur- prise which was not lessened by the fact that Mrs. Lathrop's portly figure de- scended from it. At sight of this figure a swift wave of color rose into Miss Wal- dron's pale cheeks. "Has he ventured to send her here ? " she thought, as she turned from the window and walked across the room. According to the usual dilatory habits of servants, several min- utes elapsed before the visitor's name was brought up, and these minutes Beatrix spent at her mirror, knowing that she could not afford to appear in any discon- solate guise before the keen eyes which awaited her below. She was quieter, cooler, rather more stately than usual, when she entered the drawing-room ; this was the only change that Mrs. Lathrop perceived. That lady, however, was herself very much shaken out of her wonted repose, and therefore not altogether possessed of her usual cool judgment. Greetings having been ex- changed, she plunged at once into the sub- ject which occupied her thoughts. "My dear," she said, when they had seated themselves, "I have come to see you chiefly to express my deep regret for this most unfortunate affair." " I suppose," said Beatrix, coldly, " that you allude to the duel between Mr. Marchmont and Mr. Archer. But why should you come to me to express your regret with regard to it ? " " There are several reasons why I have felt impelled to do so," replied Mrs. La- throp, with her most imposing air. " In the first place, I must tell you that I have never in my life been so mortified and grieved by any one connected with me as by my nephew, Brian Marchmont. As far as I can learn, there is no excuse for his conduct, and I am deeply provoked with Edward for acting as his second in this duel." " There is certainly no excuse for his conduct," said Beatrix. "You are quite right with regard to that." 108 AFTER MANY DAYS. "It is probable that you may imag- ine," proceeded Mrs. Lathrop, " that I have been anxious for the success of his suit with you. Such a conclusion would be a natural but a very mistaken one. I have never, my dear, never thought that such a marriage would be for your hap- piness ; and I frankly told Brian so when I remonstrated with him, several weeks ago, on his flirtation with that girl Amy Keynolds." " If you had spoken to me on the sub- ject," said Beatrix, in the same cold, even voice, "I might have set your mind at rest by assuring you that I had not the least intention of marrying Mr. March- mont. I am sorry that I ever took his suit into consideration ; but I knew little of him at the time, and it seemed only just to know more before deciding finally." " It almost appears as if madness pos- sessed him," said Mrs. Lathrop. "To bring rejection on himself, as I said to- day, and then to resent it by taking an- other man's life." "Is Mr. Archer dead?" asked Bea- trix, quickly. Despite her self-control, she could not repress the sudden quiver that ran over her frame, the sudden pallor that came to her face, and Mrs. Lathrop noted both. " He was not dead when I left Edger- ton," she replied, "but I believe the doc- tors give little hope of his recovery. May I ask, my dear as your sincere friend, and with a view to contradicting authori- tatively the many wild rumors that are afloat exactly what the ground of quar- rel was ? I have heard but I can hard- ly believe it that Mr. Archer was your suitor." "He was not," said Beatrix. "He was only my friend, and as my friend he tried to serve me. Of the exact ground of quarrel I am ignorant. Though Mr. Archer was here last night," she went on, with her voice slightly faltering, "he said nothing of the affair, and hence I know no more concerning it than you do." " Indeed ! " said Mrs. Lathrop. This astute woman, who had come to Cedarwood resolved to learn all that was possible, did not suffer that sign of falter- ing to escape her, and, regarding Miss Wal- dron closely, she went on : " So Mr. Archer was here last night ! He must possess remarkable self-control, if he did not betray any sense of the danger he was about to incur. Neither Brian nor Edward joined our family circle yesterday evening." " Mr. Archer was altogether as usual," answered Beatrix, briefly ; but as she spoke she remembered vividly that fare- well glance which she now so well under- stood. "With regard to the cause of the duel," said Mrs. Lathrop, after a mo- ment's pause, " it is the general impres- sion that Brian challenged Mr. Archer because he had produced an estrangement between him that is, Brian and your- self." "He did nothing of the kind," said Beatrix. "The idea rests on an entire misconception. There is no 'estrange- ment ' between your nephew and myself, Mrs. Lathrop. I simply discovered partly through Mr. Archer, partly through others, but chiefly through circumstances that, while professing to be my suitor, Mr. Marchmont was making love to an- other woman. That, in itself, apart from his other dishonorable conduct, was enough to make me decline any further acquaintance with him." " I told him how it would be," said Mrs. Lathrop, shaking her head. "I warned him of such a result as soon as I heard of that affair with Amy Keynolds." "I would rather not speak of the matter," said Beatrix, drawing her brows together. " It all seems of small account just now of horribly small account, to cost a gallant and honorable life." "Nevertheless, we have to think of what will be said," answered the veteran woman of the world, laying her hand impressively on her companion's arm. ; THE THORNS I REAP ARE OF THE TREE I PLANTED.' 109 " Candidly, my dear, it would be better for you to give me exactly the version of the affair you would like circulated. We cannot keep people from talking, so the best thing to do is to give them, if possi- ble, the truth to talk about." But Beatrix, who felt that she had borne as much as she possibly could, made a gesture of impatience. " Let them talk as they please," she said ; " I feel absolutely indifferent to any- thing they can say. Pray do not trouble me any further with the subject, Mrs. Lathrop. It is at once painful and dis- agreeable." Mrs. Lathrop, whose curiosity and "managing " proclivities had seldom been so baffled, would have liked to press the matter further, but there was something in Miss Waldron's face and manner which made this impossible; so, after a little constrained and desultory conversation, she rose and took leave. As her carriage was driving out of the grounds, the general's long-expected barouche entered the gates, and Beatrix had the trial of standing at the drawing- room window for fully ten minutes, watching the two equipages standing abreast while their occupants talked. Few things are more trying to nerves and temper than such waiting for news as this, while the bearer of it is within sight ; and Beatrix could have condemned Mrs. Lathrop to silence for a year before that lady finally drove off. "When the general reached the portico, he found his daughter waiting for him, with an appealing look of anxiety in her eyes. Her first words were a question. " How is he, papa ? " she asked. "No better," answered her father, who was deliberately alighting ; " but, I am glad to say, no worse. The doctors don't give much hope, but it is my opin- ion he may get well. He has a good constitution to fall back upon, and I have known men more seriously wounded to recover." "Oh, thank you, papa; it is pleasant to hear something encouraging at last! "Why didn't you come back sooner? I have been so lonely and wretched all day!" " "Well, I did not like to leave the poor fellow. He has few friends, you know, and this morning the doctors thought he might die at any time. He was a fool to meet that puppy Marchmont ; but, after all," said the gentleman of the old regime, " it is a good thing to err on the side of courage." "He was worse than foolish he was wrong, to meet him ! " said Beatrix. "Eh? was he?" said her father. " From what I hear, I imagine that you know more of it than any one else ; and I shall be glad if you will tell me all that you know, after a while." After a while, therefore, Beatrix com- plied with this request, and for the first time the general heard of the dishonor- able conduct of the man who had aspired to be his son-in-law. His wrath was deep and loud. " The scoundrel ! " he said, twisting his white mustache vehemently. "He has not the faintest claim to be esteemed a gentleman ! No schoolboy of average honor would have held his tongue about the miniature and allowed that poor boy to suffer. As for his conduct to you, it is difficult to characterize that as it de- serves ! " " Fortunately I cared nothing for him," said Beatrix, " so it did not matter. But it is cowardly to strike at me through my friends." " It is more than cowardly it is in- famous ! " said the general, " and if Arch- er dies, I shall feel inclined to try my hand at shooting. By Jove! I don't wonder he could not refuse the challenge. I should like a crack at the fellow my- self." " The result has not been very satis- factory, so far as Mr. Archer is con- cerned," said Beatrix. The next day the news from Archer no AFTER MANY DAYS. was very much of the same character, al- though the doctors expressed a little more hope. It was in the course of this day that Miss Waldron was shocked to hear of the sudden death of Felix Reynolds, and she drove at once into Edgerton to offer her sympathy and condolence. At the house of the musician she saw only Mr. Trafford, and heard from him of Amy's illness and Mr. Reynolds's despair. "How often a narrow step alone di- vides brightest pleasure from deepest pain ! " she said. " Do you remember the joy and pride of Mr. Reynolds's face when Felix was playing on the night of the fete ? And poor Amy ! her triumph was turned to bitterness even before this came. I am so very sorry for her ! If I can do anything, Mr. Trafford, pray let me know anything, I mean, in the way of assistance." "You are very kind, my dear young lady," said Mr. Trafford, "and I will cer- tainly call upon you if there is any need to do so. I sincerely hope that Mr. Archer may recover," he went on, look- ing at her with a certain friendly keen- ness, "and I believe he will. I saw him this morning, and I do not think he has any appearance of a man who means to die." "I hope not, 1 ' said Beatrix. Then, with a few more expressions of kindly interest, she went away. As she was entering the carriage, Hugh Dinsmore approached the house, and, when she beckoned him to her side, she was struck by the haggard paleness of his face. "I know this is a grief to you," she said, gently. "Felix was to have been your traveling companion was he not ? " Hugh's eyes filled with tears. " Felix has been my companion always," he said, " and it added to my happiness, in the thought of going abroad, that I was to be with him that we could go together and become artists, as we had so often dreamed of doing. Now " " It is very sad," said Miss Waldron, as his voice faltered and ceased; "but remember that the friends whom death takes we possess in a measure still ; at least, nothing can dim or mar their mem- ory. Those whom life takes from us, on the contrary, we lose utterly. If Felix had lived, you might have lost him, some day, in a wo~se manner than this. Try and let that thought comfort you. Will you come out to Cedarwood as soon as possible ? " she added. " Papa wishes to make some arrangements about your jour- ney." " There would be no good in my com- ing just now," said Hugh, looking at her with his limpid eyes. " I cannot go away I cannot decide anything while Amy is ill. I must know that she is well ; I must see her again before I can leave Edger- ton." " That is natural," said Miss Waldron, reading the whole story at once. " Come when you like, then ; papa is in no haste. Good-morning ! " As she drove away, her meditations were by no means of a cheerful order. " What a curious tangle life is ! " she thought. "Here this poor boy has set his heart on a girl who cares nothing for him who, in turn, has given Tier heart to a man who merely regarded her as a subject for idle amusement. Is it always so, I wonder? Are women's eyes always blinded by tinsel to the value of gold ? Ah, not always not always! I take no credit to myself for not loving that man. I am simply older, wiser, colder, than the child who gave him all that she had to give of passion and fancy ; but I have been as blind as she to the merit of an- other." It has been said before, that want of courage was not one of Marchmont's faults, and therefore it was not strange that he remained in Edgerton for several days after the duel. Public sentiment indignantly condemned his course, but for that very reason he defied public sen- ; THE THORNS I REAP ARE OF THE TREE I PLANTED.' Ill timent by his presence. His friends and relations were exceedingly anxious for his departure, but lie was in no haste to gratify them. The place had become hateful to him, but he would not give people the least ground for saying that he was afraid to remain ; so, for once, he compelled himself to endure an absolutely disagreeable thing. During these days he heard of Felix's death, but the event made no impression on him; graver matters of concern had thrust Amy from his mind, and, if he thought of her at all, it was with a sense of impatient anger. He had thrown away solid advantages and involved himself in any amount of unpleasantness on her account, and she had ventured to turn upon him with un- grateful reproaches ! His idle fancy for her had died on that night, in the grounds of Cedarwood, when, instead of the pret- ty, piquant toy he had believed her to be, she faced him with the indignation of an outraged woman ; from that moment her influence, such as it was, sank down and died, and her quondam lover only thought of her to execrate his folly. At last the day came when Archer was, by medical authority, pronounced out of danger, and Marchmont felt that no man could venture to cast a reproach up- on him if he left Edgerton. He prepared to do so with a great sense of relief. It was impossible for him to disguise from himself the fact that he had made a complete fiasco of the business which had drawn him here ; and if a fiasco is an es- tablished fact, it is at least pleasant to leave the scene of it behind. He left this scene on an afternoon of golden beauty, when through the droop- ing boughs of the trees the sun's rays shot in long lances of gold, and the air seemed dissolving in amber mist an afternoon like many of those when he had loitered with Amy among the spring woods where summer's richer robes now hung. The Lathrops obeyed very heartily the hos- pitable injunction to " speed the parting guest ; " and it was the same sense of duty which had influenced Edward in the mat- ter of the duel, which induced him to ac- company his cousin to the railroad-station and see him off. On their way thither they passed the church which the Lathrops attended, and where Marchmont had once or twice, in a fit of ennui, accompanied them. The door stood open, a few people were lin- gering round it, and the bell in the tower above was tolling slowly, solemnly, on the still air. Who has not sometimes been struck with the painful incongruity of such a knell with the soft loveliness of a day which alone seems fitted for life and happiness ? Even Marchmont felt it now. " It is hard lines on some poor creat- ure to be put under the ground to-day," he said. ""Who is to be buried, Ned? " "Haven't you heard?" answered La- throp, regarding him with an odd look. " Mr. Reynolds is dead." Despite himself, Marchmont felt that he started and changed color. In truth, he was for a moment deeply shocked. " Good Heaven I " he said. "Do you mean the music-teacher Amy's father ? " " The same," his cousin answered. "Why, what has killed him? " " The visitation of God as coroners' juries say I suppose. Some people think that he died of grief from the death of his son." " It is a great misfortune for his fam- ily, is it not?" said Marchmont, after a pause. "Have they anything to depend upon ? " " I don't know about their affairs, but I should not imagine they had. ^ Amy will probably make a fortune some day, if she lives." " If she lives ! " repeated Marchmont. "Is she ill?" " What ! you don't know that ? " asked Lathrop, in surprise. "She is danger- ously ill, I believe, with diphtheria the same disease of which Felix died." " I had not heard it," said Marchmont, 112 AFTER MANY DATS. slowly. Then, after a moment's silence, he added, " I am very sorry." "It certainly.is a pity," said the other, a little dryly " or will be a pity if she dies poor girl ! " Marchmont did not answer this re- mark ; perhaps he could not. Steeped in selfishness and worldlinesa as he was, a thrill of shame went through him shame for leaving, at such a time as this, without even a word of sympathy, without even learning whether she lived or died, the girl he had professed to love. For one minute with the deep stroke of the bell falling measuredly on his ear, and reminding him of her desolate posi- tion he felt an inclination to return ; but this did not last long. " What good could I possibly accom- plish? " he asked himself. "It would be absurd and inconvenient in every way for me to do such a thing." " We are barely in time to catch your train, Brian," said Lathrop, as they came in sight of the station. " Yonder it stands." "I should not like to miss it," eaid Marchmont. N"or did he. By the time he reached the platform of the station a revulsion of feeling had come, and he was more anx- ious than ever to leave. " Our pleasant vices are made whips with which to scourge us," and some such whip the thought of Amy Reynolds had become to him. He was glad to shake hands quick- ly with Lathrop, to spring into the mov- ing train, and to feel that its motion bore him swiftly away from past follies and fu- ture annoyances. CHAPTER XX. EXETJXT OMNES. AFTER the last heavy blow that struck Amy to the earth, the doctor went in grave anxiety to Mr. Trafford. "I am very uneasy about that poor girl," he said. "She has learned that her voice is ruined, and her despair is terrible not noisy, you understand, but worse than that. When I vras obliged to tell her the truth yesterday, she fainted, and since then she has hardly uttered a word. She simply lies and stares blankly out of the window, with an expression of face that might move a stone to pity. In all my life I never felt more sorry for any one. Her relations and friends if she has any certainly ought to be in- formed of her condition." "She has no relations, and, to my knowledge, but one friend," replied Mr. Trafford, quietly. "That friend will en- deavor to do the best he can for her, doctor, you may be sure." "That friend is yourself, of course," said the doctor. "You are an extraordi- nary man, Mr. Trafford." " If you mean with regard to my con- duct in this matter, I should be sorry to agree with you. It is surely not extraor- dinary to feel compassion for the deso- late and helpless." "You ought to know the world as well as I," said the doctor, dryly, "there- fore you ought to know that it is extraor- dinary for a man to feel such compas- sion, and more extraordinary still for him to act upon it in any practical manner. But then, you are no.t bound by the ties that bind most men," he added, reflec- tively. " I am glad to say that I am not," an- swered Mr. Trafford, " if such ties would serve me, as I have seen them serve other men, as an excuse and cloak for selfish' ness. I am much obliged for your infor- mation," he went on, "and I will see Miss Reynolds as soon as possible. When do you think I can do so ? " "The sooner the better, I should say, if yon have any comfort to offer her." " Very well," said Mr. Trafford, med- itatively. While this conversation was in prog- ress, some one else had forestalled the deliberation of the elder man with the EXEUNT OMNES. 113 impetuosity of youth, and insisted upon seeing Amy without delay. This was Hugh Dinsmore, who had haunted the house like a restless spirit during Amy's illness, but who could not have won permission from Clara to see her now, if the faithful guardian had not thought that his presence might rouse the girl a little from that apathy of de- spair which alarmed her as it alarmed the doctor. "And she has heard that her voice is lost?" cried Hugh. "Clara, I must I must see her ! She will die if some one does not try to help her I " " 'Deed, it looks like it ! " said Clara, in a melancholy tone. " I reckon you might see her ; it couldn't do no harm, and it might do some good. She's dresssed, but she don't seem to care about leavin' her room ; so I'll take you up there." Hugh was accordingly taken up and introduced into the small, plain, spotless chamber, which, like every other corner of the house, he had known well during his years of intimacy with the Reynolds children. His old playmate, so altered in appear- ance that he would scarcely have known her, sat by the window which overlooked the garden, gazing with blank, sombre eyes at the network of boughs across the soft blue sky. " Here's Mr. Hugh Dinsmore, Miss Amy," said Clara, opening the door. " He's been makin' such a fuss to see you, that I thought I'd bring him up." " Come in, Hugh," said Amy, turning her face, without the least variation of expression. " It is kind of you to want to see me, and you are almost the only person whom I would not dislike to see. That is a poor welcome," she added, with the saddest possible smile ; " but you will take it for what it is worth will you not?" "0 Amy my poor Amy!" cried Hugh, appalled by the change in her by the quiet of the white, thin face, by the sombre darkness of the sunken eyes, by 8 the entire aspect of hopeless despair. With a passionate grasp he held the frail hands which she yielded passively to him, and gazed at her with a sorrow and sym- pathy too deep for words. Amy looked at him also, but it was with a far-off, absent gaze, as if she were thinking of something far beyond the act- ual moment. " How long it seems since last we met, Hugh ! " she said. " Do you remember ? It was the night of the concert ; you and I and Felix were in the parlor, and I sang for you." "I have seen you since then," said Hugh. " Once, in Felix's room " " I did not see you then," she said ; " but I remember that night as if I saw a picture across a great gulf: you and I and Felix, and papa coming in, and how I sang, and how excited I was, and how pretty I looked and now! Can you count up all that I have lost since then, Hugh?" "Don't talk of it," said Hugh, in a choked voice. " It is it is too much for you." " Why should I not talk of it, when I think of it all the time ! " she said, look- ing at him with the same unchanging face. "You need not be afraid that I shall give way and cry. I do not think I shall ever shed a tear again. So much has gone, that I hardly feel as if anything was left. Papa and Felix, and my voice and my heart, and my power to be sorry, it seems all that, Hugh, and more be- sides. I wonder why I got well. I thought it was to take care of Mariette and the boys. But what can I do for them, now that my voice is gone ? We are only helpless children together, with not one friend on earth." "O Amy, have you forgotten me?" cried poor Hugh. He knelt before her, and, still holding her hands fast in his own, looked appealingly at the wan young face, now bereft of all beauty save the beauty of outline. "Ever since we were little children I have been like one of 114 AFTER MANY DAYS. your brothers," lie said. "Let me be your brother now. I will help you, I will work for you, I will do everything in the world I can, if you will only let me serve you and you will, Amy will you not?" " It is impossible, Hugh ! " said Amy, quietly ; " you know it is impossible. I have no claim upon you none in the world unless you consider it a claim to have treated you unkindly, to have re- fused to listen to your advice, and to have suffered at last for my obstinacy and heedlessness, as you told me that I would suffer." "You have the claim of our old friendship and affection," said Hugh. " I have not forgotten that the only home- life I have ever known has been in this house. Amy, I am strong, and I can work hard for you, if you will only con- sider me as a brother." "You are very kind, Hugh," said Amy, touched by his pleading, but still more by his delicacy in not mentioning his love; "but I am older than you in feeling, and I know that such a thing is quite impossible. Besides, you forget that you have your own life to consider that you are going abroad to study art." "I have decided not to go," said Hugh. " I have been offered a clerkship here, and I will take it gladly, if you say so." "And give up the career on which your heart is set ? " asked Amy, looking at him in surprise. " I would rather be of use to you than become the greatest artist in the world," he answered, simply. "Are you in earnest?" she said, roused to interest. " Would you give up the object of your life, now that it is with- in your grasp, and remain here, bound to a toil you detest all for my sake ? Hugh, do you mean it?" " I mean it with all my heart ! " he replied; "and I will work as I have never worked before in all my life, Amy, if you will let me take charge of you." Amy was silent for a moment. Her eyes left the eager face before her, and gazed out of the open window at the far blue sky with a strange, reflective expres- sion. " You would do all this for me ? " she said, at last, slowly; "and I what have I done for you? What sacrifice have I ever made? Hugh, I feel this moment, as I have never before felt, how shameful my conduct has been. But you are so kind, so patient, you will forgive me will you not ? I cannot accept your sac- rifice I could not be so selfish, even if other reasons did not make it impossible. You must go away and be an artist. How we three talked and dreamed of being ar- tists together some day do you remem- ber? Now, Felix is dead, and my voice is dead with him, and you are the only one left to fulfill our dreams. You must do it; and if we should never see each other again, you must think 'that poor Amy, though foolish and vain, was very young ; and when sorrow and desolation came, she found that she had one faithful, unselfish friend, and she never, never for- got him ! ' " "And you won't let me help you? " cried Hugh, despairingly. " O Amy, you must you must ! You don't know you don't understand what a terrible thing the world is to a girl like you. It would have been hard enough to con- quer even with all the sweetness of your voice; \>\iinow " "I know it all," she said, as he paused. "I think of it until my brain seems reeling. O Hugh, if I had my voice, I should fear nothing ! Was it not pruel to take my voice from me all that I had left?" "Hush, dear!" said Hugh. "You forget Who took it." " I suppose you mean that God took it," she said, " and perhaps he did ; but do you know who was the human cause of its loss?" "You contracted the disease which ruined it in nursing Felix," said Hugh, uncertain as to what she meant. EXEUNT OMNES. 115 "And Felix took it from a schoolfel- low whom he would never have gone to see if he had sailed for Europe when papa intended that he should. He did not sail because Brian Marchmont threw on him, as well as on you, suspicion with regard to that miniature. And so it is to Brian Marchmont that I owe everything." "I would not think of it if I were you," said Hugh, rendered vaguely un- easy by her manner. " I hope I shall always think of it," she said. " I trust that I shall never forget my debt until I can pay it." Before Hugh could answer, the door opened, and Clara looked in. "Mr. Trafford's down-stairs, and is very anxious to see you, Miss Amy," she said. " Shall I bring him up? " " Yes," answered Amy, with the same quiet apathy that she had shown with regard to Hugh. " Mr. Trafford has been so kind, that I cannot refnse to see him," she added, as Clara went away. " He has done a great deal for us." " He has the power," said Hugh, for the first time feeling a jealous envy of Mr. Trafford. " I am as grateful to you for having the will," she said, looking at him with her steady, sad eyes eyes out of which the sunny joyousness of youth had died forever. As Mr. Trafford came up-stairs he met Hugh going down, and paused for a moment to speak to the young man. " I suppose you will soon be turning your face toward the Old World," he said, after they had exchanged greetings. " It is by no means certain that I shall go at all," Hugh answered, rather brusque- ly, and passed on. Even to Hugh's generous nature it was hard to look at the elder man and think how much he was able to do for Amy, while he himself could do nothing. Mr. Trafford, who had not seen Amy since her illness, was, like Hugh, shocked by her 'wasted appearance. Sickness, grief, and wearing anxiety, can in a short time work a great change ; and they had done their utmost here. As Mr. Trafford entered the room, Amy rose to meet him, and held out her hand with an air of gravity which seemed to place her far above the level of the pretty girl he had noticed and admired a short time before. " How good you have been to us ! " she said, lifting her dark, circled eyes to his. "I cannot thank you now, Mr. Trafford ; but some day, perhaps " "Never mind about that, my dear," he interrupted. "You have nothing nothing at all for which to thank me. I have been heartily glad to be of service, but I have done very little. I have now come to discuss how I can best serve you further," he went on, plunging hastily into his subject. " Let us sit down. My poor child, this will never do ! You are a shadow an absolute ghost ! " " Am I ? " said Amy, indifferently. "Yes, I suppose so; but it does not mat- ter." "Excuse me," said Mr. Trafford, "but I disagree with you there. It does mat- ter very much; and I see that the doctor was right you need change of air and scene at once." She looked a little surprised. " I did not think the doctor was so foolish as to say such a thing of me," she answered. "Did he tell you the awful news that my voice my one possession, my last hope is gone? " " He told me," replied Mr. Trafford, compassionately. "I was grieved, but not surprised. The disease which you have had generally injures the voice, and therefore I feared this from the~ first. Since it has destroyed your cherished life-plan, have you made any other? " " How could I ? " she asked, drearily. "It was only yesterday I discovered the loss of my voice. Since then I have done nothing but wonder why I did not die I, instead of Felix! But I am alive, and I must find some way to make bread for myself and the children who will be de- 116 AFTER MANY DAYS. pendent on me. Can you tell me, Mr. Trafford you who know the world what I can do ? I am so young, and, alas, so ignorant 1 I could sing that was all. What can I do, now that my voice is Mr. Trafford rose abruptly and walked across the room and back. His eyes were suspiciously moist, and he blew his nose with an emphasis which made Amy start. When he returned to her side and sat down again, he took one of the small, frail hands, as Hugh had done a short time before. " My dear," he said, kindly and grave- ly, " I feel for you more than words can express, and this sympathy must be my excuse for what I am about to propose. You ask if I can suggest anything for you to do you, so young, so delicate, so un- fitted to cope with the world! I answer, that I have been considering the matter ever since your father's death, and I have decided that there is but one thing for you to do if you can ; that is, to marry me." "Mr. Trafford!" gasped Amy. She could say nothing more, but her face ex- pressed extreme amazement. She had felt as if nothing on earth could startle her benumbed sensations; but this gave her a shock of surprise which thrilled her like a charge from a galvanic battery. She gazed at the speak- er with eyes expanded and lips apart, as if doubting the evidence of her senses. "I thought I should startle you," he said, " but there was no way to avoid it. Now, listen to me before you answer. I am a rich man, and have not a relative in the world who has any claim upon my fortune. Under these circumstances, I feel at liberty to leave it as I please, and for some time past I have decided to leave it to you. I can hardly tell what influenced me to this determination, ex- cept that I liked you one can't analyze liking, you know ; and when I heard you wishing for wealth, I felt inclined to transform myself into a sort of fairy god- father. If I had chosen to announce that I meant to make you sole heiress of a fortune larger than General Waldron's, you might have married the man with whom you fancied yourself in love a little while ago; but I think you have sense enough to be glad that I spared you such a fate. Had your father lived, I should never have asked you to become the wife of an old fellow like me ; but I now see no other means of giving you the home and the protector you need. If you con- sent to marry me, I will do everything in my power to make you happy ; and I will care for Mariette and the boys as if they were my own children. I have turned the matter over in my mind, and I can see no other plan which is not open to grave objections. However, if you can think of any other, I will give it careful consideration." He paused, as if waiting for her an- swer ; but Amy could not answer. The world seemed spinning round with her, and the pleasant face she knew so well, with its iron-gray hair and kindly eyes, seemed gazing at her out of a mist. " Take tune," he said, seeing her agi- tation. " I am in no haste. If you can- not answer me now, I will wait until to-morrow. Think of the matter in all its bearings, and give me your decision then." "Stop!" said Amy, as he rose, and she laid her hand nervously on his arm. " You have forgotten you cannot mean such a thing as this, if you remember my wretched folly " " I remember all that," he interrupt- ed; "but your folly was only folly nothing worse. Answer me this : if Brian Marchmont entered that door now, how would you feel toward him ? " "I should feel that I hated him with all my strength ! " she answered, with a sudden light of passion flashing into her eyes. "He'is not worth bestowing hate up- on," said Mr. Trafford, gravely. "Sim- ply put him out of your mind and your heart that will do." EXEUNT OMNES. 117 " He has left me no heart," she said. " That is the worst of it. I cannot even grieve as I should for papa and Felix I feel so dead. Nothing moves me. I am very grateful to you, Mr. Trafford, but I do not feel your kindness as I ought. I only know you must be very sorry for me, to make such a proposal as you have." " My dear little girl," he said, gently, " I am very sorry for you ; but all the sorrow in the world would not induce me to make such an offer, if I were not sincerely attached to you. I am too old for lovers' rhapsodies, but it is my heart which I offer you as well as my hand." She looked up at him, with unutter- able astonishment on her face. "Your heart to me!" she said. " Why, you have only known me as an ignorant, foolish, selfish child ! " " But I think there are capabilities of other things in you," he answered. "At least, such as you are I like you, and, if you can marry me, I will endeavor to make you happy. Don't answer now, however. I will be back to-morrow." With a warm clasp of her hand, he went away, and a minute later she heard his voice, speaking to Mariette in the passage below. The sound brought back to her memo- ry all his kindness during the period of sorrow through which they had passed, and, sinking back into her chair, she cov- ered her face with her hands and tried to think. It did not take long for her to decide that she would accept Mr. Trafford's pro- posal. There was every motive to induce her to do so, and no reason for refusal. If he had asked her for love, she would have turned away from him ; but he had not done so, and she felt an instinctive sense that she could trust him not to de- mand more than she could give. She had been scorched by the fire of passion until she shrank from the mere thought of it ; and there was an attraction in the very calmness of the man who offered her position and wealth, recognizing the great gulf of years between them. Only those who have stood, like Amy, desolate and helpless, bereft of every- thing, can appreciate what this offered protection was to her ; and when her decision was finally taken, she drew a deep breath of relief to think that all anxiety was over anxiety for herself, and for those even more helpless than herself. Yet it was with a great sense of sad- ness and pain that she bade farewell to all the past to the careless Bohemian life to the glorious hopes of winning fame and fortune to the days made golden by the light of youth's romance ! All were utterly dead, and the fruit of the last had turned to bitter ashes on her lips; but she could not think of them without that pang which irrevocable parting never fails to bring. The first person who heard of her resolution was Hugh. In the evening he came again, bearing a message from Miss Waldron, who wished to see Amy, and desired to offer any assistance in her power. "No doubt she means to be kind," Amy answered, quietly, " but I need no assistance. Since I saw you this morn- ing, Hugh, life has changed for me ; my future is assured, and all care about it is 6ver." A vivid flush mounted to Hugh's face. "You have taken from Mr. Trafford, then, assistance which you would not take from me ! " he said. " Amy, is that kind?" "If I had taken the assistance you mean from Mr. Trafford, I might answer that he is able to render it, and you are not," said Amy. " But I mean more than that, when I say that my future is as- sured ; I mean, Hugh, that I am going to marry him." "You mean Amy, are you mad?" asked Hugh, hoarsely. " Marry ! marry a man older than your own father! " " It does not matter to me how old AFTER MANY DAYS. he is," said Amy, indifferently. " He is kind, he is generous, he is rich, he is willing to take care of me, and Mariette and the hoys. Consider what I am think how few men would make such a proposal and then say whether or not I should he mad indeed to refuse it." " Great Heaven ! " said Hugh, aghast. " And it has come to this you will sell yourself! O Amy, for God's sake, stop! Don't do this thing! It will be worse than poverty and toil it will kill your heart" "You are talking folly, Hugh," inter- posed Amy. " I have no heart to kill. Since you are my only friend, I will tell you why I have decided on this ; but you must not think that I can be shaken in my purpose." " I don't need that you should tell me I know everything," said Hugh, " and I see no excuse in any of it. I have been true to you through a great deal, Amy ; hut this is worse a thousand times worse than all that has gone before. If you can make this mercenary marriage you, so young, selling yourself so utterly for money I shall feel that I have wasted all the love that I have given to you, and I will never again think of yon willingly as long as I live 1 " He stood before her, white with pas- sion and indignation, and Amy looked up at him with a sadness which he remem- bered long afterward. " Good-by, then, Hugh," she answered. "I have said good-by to all the rest ; you are the last link with the past, and it seems that I must leave you, too. I hope you will forget me I am not worth re- membering though I think you are un- just to me now. So it ends all we hoped and dreamed. Good-by ! " "Amy," cried Hugh, with one last, wild appeal, " come to me ! I am young and strong, and I will work for you ? Is love nothing? I love you as nobody else ever has loved or ever will love you, I am sure ! " " If you were as rich as Mr. Trafford, Hugh, and said tJiat, it would be enough to make me answer No," replied Amy. " You love me so much, that you would want me to love you in return ; and that I can never do. I have no love for any- body, and so I am glad to marry a man who does not ask, who will not expect it." "And you are determined you will marry him ? " " I am determined I shall marry him." "Then God help me! it is good-by forever! If 1 can avoid it, Amy, I will never see your face again." He vanished from her side like a flash, as if afraid to trust himself a moment lon- ger, and the door closed sharply. Sitting in the dusky twilight, with summer fra- grance heavy on the air, and the soft lus- tre of the "tender star of love" shining from the delicate sky, Amy knew that she had, indeed, said farewell to all the past. A week or two later as soon as the doctor declared that Amy was able to travel her marriage to Mr. Trafford took place. They were married early one morning, in the shabby little parlor which she was never to enter again, and the news fell on Edgerton like a clap of thun- der. There had been some talk of a charitable subscription for " that poor Mr. Keynolds's family," and the well-meaning ladies who were engaged in this Mrs. Lathrop at the helm felt as if the whole fabric of social order was insecure, when they heard that the musician's penniless daughter had become the wife of the wealthy Mr. Trafford. "Gone to Europe!" people said to one another in amazement. " Taken the little girl with them, and that deaf ser- vant sent the boys away to school have you ever heard anything like it ? " Public curiosity was eager to learn how such an unexpected conclusion to the story of which Amy was the heroine had been reached ; but the only person who EXEUNT OMNES. 119 could have gratified it kept silence in the most provoking manner, and only smiled when the matter was canvassed before her. This person was Miss Waldron, who, it may be added, came in for no little share of the gossip herself. As soon as Archer was sufficiently recovered from the effect of his wound to be moved, the general had insisted upon taking him to Cedarwood for country air and quiet; and, as people sagely remarked, it was easy to tell what that meant. It meant a season of such rare pleasure and repose in the young man's life, that he would have liked to shower down benedictions on Marchmont's head for having shot him. As the long golden days of June passed over the earth, it was nothing less than a delight to lie on the warm, dry grass, flecked by waving shadows and flickering sunlight, with Beatrix's darkly handsome face bending over her work near by, or her stately figure moving here and there, framed by the gracious beauty of the summer landscape. It was such a day of " blissful June" as this when Amy's marriage took place ; and Miss Waldron, who was the only in- vited guest present at the ceremony, hav- ing returned to Cedarwood, described the event to Archer. " Nothing could have been simpler," she said; "and Amy poor child! looked pretty, though pale as alabaster. I have never seen any one more composed in manner than she was." " "Was it the ' stony calm ' one reads about in novels of brides who give their hands where their hearts are not ? " asked Archer. " Very far from it. There was noth- ing stony in her manner nothing in the least suggestive of an effort only this grave, quiet composure. I hope she will be happy, and I hope she will make Mr. Trafford happy, for I like him very much." "Doubtful on both sides," said Arch- er. "I can see no foundation for happi- ness in such a marriage." "I can," said Beatrix. "I am sure Mr. Trafford will be kind in the extreme, and I think Amy has gained sense enough to appreciate his kindness and generosity as it deserves." " And you think a girl of her age will be satisfied with a mild mixture of respect and gratitude for love ? or that a man of Mr. Trafford's age will not be jealous as a tiger of a young wife ? " " Amy has changed you don't know how much she has changed ; and I hard- ly think Mr. Trafford is the kind of man to be jealous as a tiger under any circum- stances." "You must be aware that youth is very elastic," said Archer, who never failed to maintain his opinion to the last extremity. " Grief and disappointment have no doubt changed the girl, and made her seem subdued, but the effect will soon pass. If there is not the making of a life- long coquette in her, I am greatly mis- taken ; and there is nothing enviable in the position of a middle-aged man married to a young, flirting woman." " You are evidently determined to take a dark view of the matter," said Bea- trix, smiling. "But I have great hope that the marriage will prove happy all the happier, perhaps, for the calmness of sentiment on both sides." " You think calmness of sentiment de- sirable, then? " said Archer, with a quick, searching glance at her face. A slight increase of color came to that face, but she was too entirely mistress of hersilf to betray discomposure in any other way. " Surely it is a good thing," she an- swered. " Surely, when we see the trouble that passion brings the fever- ishness, the uncertainty one may be par- doned for thinking calmness of sentiment very desirable." " Yet," said Archer, "it was only yes- terday that I found a book of poems on your table, with this passage marked : 120 AFTER MANY DAYS. ' He who for love has undergone The worst that can befall, Is happier, thousand-fold, than one "Who never loved at all ; A grace within his soul has reigned Which nothing else can bring Thank God for all that I have gained By that high offering 1 '" 44 1 suppose I marked the passage be- cause the idea is prettily expressed," said Beatrix, with another blush brighter than the other. " You seem to have remem- bered the lines very well." "I have a good memory," he an- swered, quietly. Then silence fell. They were sitting on the lawn, and the sweet sights and sounds of summer were all around them. A great pride-of-china tree dropped the perfumed petals of its purple blossoms on Beatrix's head ; shadow and sunshine in- terlaced over her white dress ; bees were drowsily humming on the scented air ; light breezes came and stirred the foliage with a soft rustle. " How delightful this is ! " said Arch- er, presently. " But I fear it is very de- moralizing. After having lived in fairy- land for a while, I shall find it hard to go back to the treadmill of daily life and labor. Yet it must be done and that soon," he added, as if to himself. "What is the need for haste? " asked Beatrix. "You have improved very much since you have been here, but you are by no -means well yet." "I am afraid I shall not recover my health here," he answered. " There are too many temptations to remain ill. I have decided to follow my doctor's ad- vice, and go to the sea-side for a while." Beatrix dropped her needlework with which she was occupied into the lap, and looked at him with her steady, dark eyes. "You have decided since when?" she asked. " This is certainly very sud- den." He moved a little uneasily. "I have decided, Miss Waldron; is j not that enough?" he said. "I always arrive at my decisions without much de- liberation. You must not think that I fail to be grateful for all your kindness, and" " I beg that you will not talk of grati- tude, Mr. Archer," said Beatrix, stiffly. " You force me to remind you that but for my unfortunate affairs you would not have incurred the wound which incapaci- tates you. If you wish to go, go by all means, but pray do not feel that any ex- cuse is necessary for doing so." She took up her work again, and, as her needle began to fly swiftly back and forth, Archer raised himself from his re- cumbent position on the grass. "I see that you misunderstand me," he said ; " and yet I think you ought to know better I think you ought to feel that, however ungracious my going may seem, it is a matter of simple neces- sity."' On Beatrix's cheek a flush began to burn, but she did not lift her eyes, and her needle flew swifter than before, as she said, "I cannot perceive the neces- sity." " But it does exist 1 " said Archer, with vehemence. " It is presumption, no doubt, in me to love you, Miss Waldron," he went on, without giving himself time to think, " but since I do love you with all my heart, and since I have not the faintest hope of ever winning you, it is worse than folly in me to stay here and purchase brief pleasure by long and bitter pain. Pardon me for having made this declaration," he added, after a short pause which no sound from Beatrix broke, " but I was compelled to make you understand why I must go. Now you see it, of course, as I do ; and I shall leave without delay." He rose as he spoke, and was in the act of walking away, when Beatrix's voice arrested him a voice tremulous, though clear and sweet : "Stop a moment, Mr. Archer," she said. "When a man makes a declara- EXEUNT OMNES. 121 tion to a woman, such as you have made, he generally waits for an answer does he not ? " Archer turned quickly. "I did not think there was any answer possible that I would care to hear," he replied. "I am not mad, Miss Waldron. I know my position in life ; I know that I have none of the advantages which the man who hopes to marry you must possess. I am poor; I am struggling; I am not fitted by nature to win a woman's heart. I can only love you," he said, with passion- ate bitterness, " and what is that? " She rose, and stood before him, proud and stately, yet with a sweetness on her lips and in her eyes which no one had ever seen there before. "If you are not mad, you are blind," she said, in a low tone of voice. " Why can you not see? Must I answer your question? Must I tell you what your love is to me? " He looked at her as if he could not trust his eyes, as if he could not believe his ears. He was so shaken, so amazed, at this unexpected reply, that emotion held him literally motionless for a min- ute. Then he said like one who speaks with an effort : "Yes tell me what it is to you." She was the more self-possessed of the two, because she understood all that he felt, and the revelation of it was no surprise to her. She held out her hand quietly, but he never forgot the tone of her voice, when she answered with the word, "Everything." PART II. CHAPTER I. AFTER TEH TEAKS. THE London season was opening brill- iantly, and the foggy island began to wear its loveliest attire of green, when, in a small but very charming house, over- looking one of the most fashionable streets of Mayfair, an American lady, who was something of a celebrity, took up her residence. The name of this celebrity was Mrs. Trafford, a beautiful and wealthy young widow, who in Paris, in Nice, in Flor- ence, in Homburg, and in half a dozen otber places, was well known, and whose dresses, jewels, horses, dinners, and flir- tations, were topics of gossip, and the latter, perhaps, of a little scandal, wher- ever she went. But Mrs. Traffbrd was able to set such scandal very much at defiance. The worst of gossips could not allege anything like impropriety against her; and her attrac- tions were so many, her wealth apparent- ly so great, that the minor transgressions of such a fascinating person were not held of much account. Exactly who or what she was, no- body was able .to say with any degree of certainty, for she was not partial to her countrymen and countrywomen, and rarely associated with them a fact from which unpleasant things had more than once been argued concerning her. When a report of these things reached Mrs. Trafford's ears, she only laughed a silvery, mocking laugh well known to all her associates and went her way with a supreme indifference which served to secure her position better than any self-assertion could have done. Apart from her wealth, the causes which gave her admittance into many usually exclu- sive circles were not hard to trace. She possessed beauty so extraordinary, that painters and sculptors raved over the faultless outlines of her face and figure, the exquisite tints of her complexion and hair, while her grace, her wit, her sawir-. faire, were hardly less remarkable. It became the fashion to know her the fashion to praise her daring yet graceful charm of manner and speech. Of course, no woman so endowed could lack suitors, and, equally of course, there were many people to call her a heartless coquette, and say that she lived only for homage and admiration. Num- berless were the stories told of the fate of her cavaliers of her graciousness so long as they amused her, of her fickle caprices when they ceased to do so. It was at least certain that she evinced no sign of an intention to resign her free- dom for any one of them. When she first appeared in society she had propitiated Mrs. Grundy by keep- ing a chaperon an elderly widow, w r ho filled a seat in her carriage, or sat in her drawing-room and played propriety to perfection; but after a few years this lady disappeared, and her place was filled by a very different companion, a young girl, the sister of the fair widow, who added another attraction to Mrs. Traf- ford's already attractive house. AFTER TEN YEARS. 123 It would have been difficult to find a fresher, lovelier face than this girl pos- sessed a face which would have made her a formidable rival to most women, but which, by the side of the elder wom- an's regal beauty, was like a white rose- bud near a "queen-rose" glowing with color, full of fragrance. Such a comparison would have oc- curred to almost any one who saw the two as they sat together in Mrs. Traf- ford's boudoir-like drawing-room, a few days after their arrival in London. " I think we are fairly settled at last," said the young widow, gazing meditative- ly out of the window at the green tops of the trees in the opposite park. "Do you know, Mariette, I am growing to be a little -just a little tired of wandering? We have lived in so many places, that I begin to feel as if I would like a settled home." From the luxurious chair in which she was lounging, Mariette looked at her sis- ter with a glance of surprise. She was purely blond, with limpid eyes of tur- quoise blue, and hair like woven sunshine a mass of golden softness coifed with negligent grace above the broad, white brow, and framing it with delicate baby- rings, lovely enough for a seraph. Her complexion was "milk and roses" incar- nate all creamy softness and delicate bloom ; while her pretty, tremulous lips parted over small, pearly teeth. " I hope you won't think of making London that home, Amy ! " she said, with the least possible shrug of her dainty shoulders. " I like it less than any place I have ever seen. How gloomy and triste it is, compared with Paris ! " "Wait a little," said Mrs. Trafford, with a smile. "That is one's first im- pression, but it wears away after a while. I have been thinking for some time that, though Continental cities are well enough in their way, London, perhaps, might be best for our headquarters. But there is no need to settle anything, since we are fortunately free as air," she added, as the expression of Mariette's face grew slight- ly dismayed. " Wo will try one season, and then, if we don't like it, nothing is easier than to take flight." " I am sure I shall not like it," said Mariette, with slight petulance, " and I think it very odd of you to entertain such an idea, for you have often said that you disliked all English-speaking countries I mean, all countries where English is spoken." " That was because I disliked the idea of any association of the past," her sister replied. "Bnt there is really no more danger of such a thing in London than in Paris or Rome. Moreover, I have learned to consider the feeling very foolish. No shadow could rise out of the past which would have power to vex or disturb me now." "I should think not, indeed!" said Mariette, nestling deeper into her silken chair, with a comfortable sense of perfect security. To her the past of which her companion spoke was no more than a vague dream. Luxurious ease, encom- passing beauty, absolute freedom from care these things had made her life since early childhood ; and hence her nymph-like face was joyous as Psyche's, her lovely eyes undimmed by the faintest shade of that trouble which is the doom of humanity. Mrs. Trafford's face was different. Despite its wonderful beauty, its soft yet brilliant charm, no close observer could fail to be aware that this woman had suf- fered as well as enjoyed. In the depths of her changeful eyes the possibility of shadow lurked, and her rich, sweet voice had accents which were never learned in sunshine. After Mariette's last words, silence fell a silence which Mrs. Trafford had apparently little inclination to break. She lay back in the soft depths of her chair, a picture of marvelous grace in her exquisite toilet, gently waving a fan back and forth with one snowy, delicate hand a hand fit for princes to kiss, and which 124 AFTER MAXY DAYS. no one could fancy had ever dusted and swept and darned in those long-past days to which she had alluded. " Amy," said Mariette suddenly, " don't be vexed if I ask you a question . hut do you think you will ever marry again ? " " That depends altogether upon circum- stances," replied Mrs. Trafford, without the least trace of vexation. " If I could see clearly that I should gain anything by marrying, I might do so ; but I have never seen that clearly yet. In such a step I should have little to gain and much to lose. My position is now as well as- sured as I could desire, and I like the freedom of my present existence so well, that I do not think any life which could be offered me in exchange would gain by comparison with it. I am not injured because women who are envious call me an adventuress, nor because men whom I have rejected Bay that I have no heart. As far as they are concerned they are right ; I have no heart not the least. I like to be amused and admired, but such but such a thing as sentiment does not exist for me. If I ever marry it will be for solid advantages advantages which I do not need yet," she added, "with a glance at her reflection in a mirror opposite. Mariette rose and kissed her lightly. " I am so glad you have told me this ! " she said. " I have been wondering a lit- tle if our coming to England did not mean something of the kind, and selfishly, no doubt I did not like it. We are so charmingly situated as we are, that I could not welcome a possible brother-in- law very cordially." "And why should you fear such a thing especially now ? " asked Mrs. Traf- ford. " Oh, I don't know ; except that it is easy to see how much in love both Mr. Grantham and Colonel Danesford are " " Choose your terms better, petite,' 11 interposed her sister, with a curling lip. " Boys fall in love, not men of the world like those of whom you speak. Mr. Grantham is a diplomatist of considerable ambition and small fortune, who thinks that my fortune also my personal gifts of beauty, cleverness, and social power might serve his ends very well. No doubt he is right. No doubt I should make an admirable trump-card for a man in his position; but I cannot say that my pulses stir at the idea of becoming the wife of a secretary of legation who is fiftieth cousin to half a dozen peers and peeresses." "I certainly do not think it would be a brilliant match for you,' 1 ' 1 said Mari- ette. " It would not be a brilliant match at all. I should give much and receive lit- tle. Even without birth, I have a right to look much higher. Indeed, better men have offered themselves to me before this." "Ah, I know that! "cried Mariette, with a gay, sweet laugh. " You do not talk much of such things, but I see I guess a great deal." " More than exists, perhaps," said her sister. "Now, Colonel Danesford be- longs to another class. He is wealthy, he is the heir to a baronetcy, and he is a brave soldier. I like and respect him, and I think it a pity that he has suffered himself to become seriously attached to me. But one must take things as one finds them. He is an agreeable cavalier, and On parle du soleil, et en void les rayons ! " she added, with a laugh, as the drawing-room door suddenly opened and a servant announced " Colonel Danesford." There entered a tall, soldierly -looking man, of six or seven and thirty, very much sunburned, decidedly handsome, with a firmness of tread and a decision of bearing very significant of his rank in life. Aa he advanced, there were a sup- pressed eagerness in his manner and a glow in his dark eyes which betrayed his feeling for the fair woman who rose to meet him graciously. " So you have come to welcome us to AFTER TEN YEARS. 125 London, Colonel Danesford ! " she said, holding out her hand. " I was sure you would come as soon as you knew that we were here. Mariette and I were speak- ing of you a moment ago." "I have been out of town until to- day, so it chances that I have only just now heard of your presence in London," he answered. " Of course I lost no time in coming to place myself at your feet, as our friends in Italy say. This is a most unexpected pleasure one of which I had no idea when we parted in Borne." Then he turned to Mariette, and, the commonplaces of greeting having been exchanged, the three fell at once into the easy talk of old acquaintances.' "We have been in London exactly five days," Mrs. Trafford said, in answer to a question ; " but we are so practised in the art of establishing ourselves in new quarters or, rather, we have a major- domo who is so accomplished in the art of establishing us that we feel as if we had been settled for months. What do you think of our situation ? " "It is excellent," he said, glancing around, " and I see that you have made everything redolent of your presence. I could fancy myself back in your salon in Rome." "Only that is no Koman sky," said she, pointing through the window. "No more than Hyde Park is the Corso," said Mariette. "I fancy, from the tone of that re- mark, that yon do not like Hyde Park, Miss Reynolds," said Colonel Danesford. "Have you been on the Row? Can we not have a repetition of some of our de- lightful Roman rides ? " "Not readily, for we were always a partie carree in Rome," replied Mariette ; "and where shall I find, in your great London, such charming cavalieri as were at my service there ? " "Five days more will answer that question, I am sure," said Colonel Danes- ford, good-humoredly. " We may not be able to furnish such picturesque cavaliers as your attendants in Rome ; but, though Englishmen lack grace, they do not lack appreciation." He glanced at Mrs. Trafford as he uttered these words, and smiling, she said: "You must excuse Mariette. Just before we left Rome we were both capti- vated by a young Spaniard who was of the bluest blood, handsome as a dream, and chivalrous as a crusader. He de- scribed his old castle in the Pyrenees so eloquently, that we were half inclined to go to Spain but, instead, we have come to London." " And I think I may venture to say that you have not made a bad choice. Have you been out much? Do your friends know that you are in town? " " We have not been out a great deal, but our friends have already begun to gather round us, and, after to-day, we shall scarcely have an evening disengaged. We have decided, therefore, to spend this evening in a way we both like we are going to hear Nilsson in ' Faust,' taking the opera en connoisseur from the begin- ning. If you have no other engagement, can you not join us! " If Colonel Danesford had any other engagement, he did not give it a thought. "I shall be most happy to do so," he answered. "Then you will dine with us will you not? We dine earlier than usual, of course. In fact, I ordered dinner for six o'clock." Never did soldier yield a more ready assent to the voice of the charmer ; and when, at six o'clock, they sat down, in a small but beautifully-appointed dining- room, to the most elegant of dinners, he felt himself a man to be envied. The air of wealth and taste which pervaded everything, the profusion of flowers, the admirable attendance, the two fair women in their rich toilets, all combined to fill him with a sense of har- mony and pleasure. He began to think that this was better than Rome. His 126 AFTER MANY DAYS. foot was not only on his native heath which is always assuring to a man who has position aud ancestry behind him, and whose name means something more than the names of Smith, Jones, and Robinson but there were as yet fewer rivals in his path than there had been in the Eter- nal City ; and, though he knew that they would appear later, he also knew that he possessed the advantage of priority in the field. "Priority and some favor," he said to himself although common report had long since told him that there were few things so absolutely uncertain as Mrs. Trafford's favor. After dinner, while Mariette retired to put a few finishing touches to her toilet, he found himself alone with the young widow, and he at once took ad- vantage of the opportunity. " My sister desires very much to meet you," he said, standing before her while she drew on a pair of long, primrose- tinted gloves. " She will be in town next week. I think I hope you will like each other." '"You are very kind," she replied, glancing up with easy indifference. "I shall be glad to meet your sister ; I think I have heard of her as a very charming woman." "I will not venture to say what she has heard of you," he answered. " But it is enough to make her very anxious to know you." " If you have made any report, and if she has taken it att, pied de la lettre, I fear she will be sadly disappointed," said Mrs. Trafford, coolly buttoning her gloves. 4 'I know that you are loyal and lauda- tory in the extreme with regard to your friends." "It would be impossible for laudation to exaggerate what you are," he said, in a low tone. "Surely you must know that." "I have a very good fund of vanity," she said, laughing, " but I hardly think it tells me anything so flattering. The car- riage at the door, Johnson ? " as a servant appeared. " Let Miss Reynolds know." The last bars of the overture were being played when the two ladies and their attendant entered Mrs. Trafford's box. Many glances were leveled upon them at once, and Colonel Danesford was not insensible to the distinction of appearing as sole cavalier of the famous beauty, who was looking even more beautiful than usual in a toilet of rich green silk, with quantities of costly white lace and emeralds at her throat and in her ears. Seating herself in the front of the box, she lifted her glass and swept the house in the few minutes which elapsed before the curtain rose. "I recognize a great many familiar faces," she said, dropping it and turning to Colonel Danesford. " What a very small world this is which we inhabit, after all ! Does it not strike you so ? If one were to attempt to escape from the orbit of one's acquaintance, it would hardly be possible to do so." " Not for you, certainly," he answered, smiling ; " at least, not in Europe. Per- haps in Australia or America you might appear without finding some one whom you knew ; but I should think it doubt- ful." Her face changed a little when he mentioned America. " I have no disposition to make the experiment," she said. " I like to live in the heart of civilization, not on its out- skirts. In Europe tie higher classes are so thoroughly cosmopolitan and so very migratory, that, after a while, one will find little difference between society in St. Petersburg and London, or Paris and Vienna." The curtain rose as she spoke, and she turned her attention to the stage ; for everybody who knew Mrs. Trafford at all knew that she was so far unfashion- able that she never went to an opera but as a genuine and devoted lover of music. This evening, however, she found it AFTER TEN YEARS. 127 impossible to preserve her usual atten- tion, for before the end of the first act her box was filled. The first person who appeared was Mr. Grantham, a blond young diplomate, who was by no means pleased to find his most formidable rival in possession of the field. Following him came a Frenchman of rank, who desired to renew his ac- quaintance with " la lelle madame." Then appeared another Englishman, and then an attache of the Italian embassy. Altogether, it was very evident that Mrs. Trafford's popularity was not likely to wane in London. In a box just opposite her own, a party, consisting of two ladies and a gen- tleman, were meanwhile discussing her eagerly. The younger of the ladies was a rather pretty, brown-haired girl, very elaborately dressed, who scarcely paid any attention to the great prima-donna, so absorbed was she in watching Mrs. Trafford. " She is by far the most beautiful woman I have seen since I came abroad I am not sure that she is not the most beautiful woman I ever saw ! " she said, enthusiastically. "If I were a man, I should fall down and worship her." " That is going a little too far, Nelly," said the other lady; "but I should like to know who she is." " She is a countess, no doubt," replied Nelly. " Very likely she is a duchess, or perhaps she is a foreign princess. She is not dressed like an Englishwoman." " Why not a royal princess ? " suggest- ed the gentleman, with a laugh. " I am afraid you will let your imagination soar so high, Nelly, that it will have a grievous fall when you discover who your beauty is." "I wish there was some one to tell us ! " said Nelly, impatiently. " How unpleasant it is to be a stranger in a strange place, when one wants to know anything! "Walter, don't you think you might step into the next box and in- quire?" " I am not ambitious of being regard- ed as an escaped lunatic," replied Walter, calmly. " Suppose you stop talking for a little while, and listen to the ' King of Thule.' " " A king there was in Thule, Kept troth unto the grave," the silvery voice of Marguerite was sing- ing, whgn the box-door opened and two men walked in. One was English, unmistakably tall, well-developed figure, florid face, mutton- chop whiskers; the other was slender, dark-eyed, and handsome, a man on whom the stamp of ~blase was plainly set, and who looked every day of his thirty-five years. " Mr. Marchmont, what a pleasant surprise ! " cried Nelly Paget. " You said you could not possibly come, so I had no hope of seeing you." " I found the attraction beyond my powers of resistance," answered the last- described gentleman, advancing, "so I have not only come myself, but I have brought Bowling with me." " I am delighted to see Mr. Bowling," said Miss Paget, frankly. "You re- marked, the other day, that you knew everybody in London at least by sight," she added, turning to Mr. Bowling. " You are just in time, therefore, to tell me the name of the most, beautiful wom- an I have ever seen. She is in the box opposite." " Since I was sufficiently ill-advised to make such a boast, it is as likely as not that you have pitched upon some one I do not know," replied Mr. Bowling, tak- ing from her hand the glass she offered. " Where is this beauty to be seen? " "In the box opposite immediately across the house. As if you could mis- take ! " " Tastes differ, you know," said Mr. Bowling, calmly. " Just opposite By Jove ! you are right. That woman is a beauty and a famous one ! I have never seen her in London before, but she is 128 AFTER MAXY DAYS. well known on the Continent. That is Mrs. Trafford." "Mr*. Trafford ! " echoed Nelly, crest- fallen. " Not a princess not even a count- ess, then?" " Not unless princesses and countess- es are made by right divine. In that case she might be one. She's regal isn't she ? And, since you admire her so much, you may be glad to hear that you can claim her as a countrywoman." " A countrywoman of mine ? " said Nelly, incredulously. " So I have heard ; but I don't think anybody knows much of her antecedents. She is a widow young, rich, beautiful, clever. That is enough." "I am sure it ought to be. What more would any one have? Did you speak to me, Mr. Marchmont ? " "I merely asked Bowling for the glass, that I might look more closely at this wonderful beauty. Thanks ! " as Bowling handed it to him. Then he lifted and brought it to bear on the woman opposite. CHAPTER II. A SHADOW OF THE PAST. " You seem overwhelmed, Mr. March- mont," said Miss Paget. "I am sure I don't wonder. Isn't she divine ? " " She certainly is beautiful," answered MarChmont, slowly lowering the glass, which for several minutes he had kept leveled on Mrs. Trafford. " Her name is familiar to me," he went on, after a pause, " and I thought at first she might be an old acquaintance of mine ; but, after look- ing at her, I do not feel as if such a thing were at all probable." "I should not think there was any room for doubt," said Bowling. " It would hardly be possible to mistake such a face as that for any other." " The question is, whether some other has not developed into this," said March- mont, lifting the glass to his eyes again. The more he gazed, the more bewil- dered and incredulous he felt. "Was it within the range of possibility that "little Amy Reynolds" had been transformed into this ? Such a change seemed to him absolutely incredible. He sent his mem- ory back over the decade of years past, and tried to summon up a picture of the girl with whom he had idly trifled when younger and more disposed for trifling than at present. But he could not re- call anything tangible, try as he would. The recollection of that youthful episode had been so persistently banished, and so entirely swept away by other impressions, that, beyond a vague idea of a sparkling, Hebe face, the personality of Amy Rey- nolds had wholly faded from his mind. " It is impossible ! " he finally decided. " It is a mere coincident of name." Then he said aloud to Bowling: " There is another very pretty woman in the same box a pure blonde. "Who is she ? " "I don't know her at all," Bowling answered. " It's a new face. Very love- ly don't you think so, Miss Paget ? " " I dare say I should think so, if the other peerless creature was not in view," Miss Paget replied. "It is seldom that one woman ac- knowledges another woman's beauty so frankly," said Marchmont, turning to the girl with a smile. " I was never envious of beauties perhaps I made up my mind early to the fact that I had no beauty myself but even if I were inclined that way, I should consider that woman far beyond the pale of jealousy," she answered. "No beauty yourself! " he repeated. " ' wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us ! ' You might change your mind on that point, and not malign your fairy god- mother so much." "Oh, I have estimated myself very exactly," she said. "I know so well A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 129 what I am especially in the matter of looks that not even your flattery, Mr. Marchmont, can turn my head." " I know that you are a very remark- able young lady in more ways than one," said Marchmont, in a low tone. It was a tone which thrilled Nelly Paget's heart, and deepened the color on her cheeks. Despite her better judgment for she was a girl of strong common- sense her fancy was very much taken captive by this handsome, llase man of the world, and she was almost ready to resign herself and her fortune into his hands. That she was the possessor of a for- tune, followed as a matter of course, since she was honored by Mr. March- mont's attentions ; for we find that dis- tinguished gentleman as we left him a fortune-hunter. It must not be supposed, however, that in this interval of time he had not achieved partial success in his quest. "Within twelve months after the "Waldron fiasco, he married an heiress of uncertain wealth and more uncertain temper, whose friends settled her fortune upon her so tightly that during her life it was more of an exasperation than an assistance to her husband, and at her death she lived six years and died childless it returned to her family. Thus, as he felt, providentially re- lieved, Mr. Marchmont, who had mean- while made some reputation in public life, decided to be more cautious in his next matrimonial venture. His ambition was as great as ever, though he had by no means sustained his early promise ; and his private affairs were very much involved, so that a short cut to wealth by the road of marriage commended itself as strongly to him now as it had done ten years before. Having gone abroad ostensibly for his health, but really to escape the mor- titication of a political defeat he met an old friend in the person of Walter Paget, who was traveling in Europe, accompa- nied by his wife and sister. 9 At first Mr. Marchmont scarcely no- ticed the latter, but he was presently struck by her vivacity and shrewdness, and, being aware that she was by no means an inconsiderable heiress, as heir- esses go, the idea of marrying her began to occur to him. It was an idea which received added force from certain pecuniary embarrass- ments which were thickening round him, and from the consideration that, though Nelly Paget was not one of the women who prove invaluable allies in such a fight as that which he was waging, she would at least assist him to the best of her abil- ity, and certainly never hinder him as his first wife had done. In consequence of this opinion, de- liberately formed and deliberately acted upon, he attached himself to the Paget party that is, he discovered that his route generally lay in the same direc- tion as theirs; and when they decided to leave the Continent for England, he saw no reason why he should not accom- pany them. He did accompany them, and they had been in London three or four days when this rencontre at the opera occurred. The last act was in progress before Mrs. Trafford, who was accustomed to serving as a target for stares, observed the unusual attention which the occu- pants of the opposite box were paying her. It was Mariette who brought the fact to her notice. " I do not think that, in all my expe- rience of staring, I have ever seen people stare as those over yonder are doing ! " she remarked to Colonel Danesford, who was forced to content himself with lean- ing over her chair, while Mr. Grantham and the Italian attache monopolized as much attention as Mrs. Trafford chose to give them. "Have you observed how constantly their glasses are leveled at our box?" "Yes, I have observed it," he an- swered. " They are excusable in a meas- ure, since this is one of the first appear- 130 AFTER MANY DAYS. ances in public of Mrs. Trafford and your- self; but they should not forget good- breeding." "Perhaps they do not possess any," said the young lady, as she raised her own glass and turned it upon the box in question, taking a quick but keen survey of each face. " Yet they look as if they ought to possess some," she said, " and I have a vague idea that I have seen the face of one of them before that dark, handsome man in front." "He maybe some cursory acquaint- ance whom you have met and forgotten." "Perhaps so, but Amy's memory is better than mine ; in fact, it is so good that she never forgets a face. I will ask her if she knows him." She bent forward and asked the ques- tion, and Mrs. Trafford for the first time sent a swift glance across the glittering house. Her eye fell at once on the box which Mariette indicated, and saw but one face in it the face of Brian March- niont. On her part recognition was instan- taneous. This was not singular, since there had not only been no such change in his appearance as in "hers, but the im- pression which he had made upon her life, and consequently upon her memory, was far deeper than any she had made upon him. It was the first time in all these years that she had seen any face belonging to the dead life of her youth ; and now, to see that face, above all others, brought such a rush of old recollections over her, that for a moment only a moment the whole brilliant scene wavered before her eyes, and she seemed to hear the orches- tra and the voices on the stage as from an immense distance. But, by a strong effort, she recalled herself, and, though unable to prevent a variation of color, she answered Mariette's question composedly enough. " No," she said, "he is not an acquaintance of mine." Despite her admirable self-control, something in the tone of these words struck the well-trained ear of the man by her side. " Not an acquaintance ! " Mr. Grantham thought. " But that is not saying he has not been an acquaintance. "Women like madame do not change color for a trifle." Though she did not look again tow- ard the box where Marchmont sat, there was no doubt that Mrs. Trafford was very glad when the opera ended. The mere consciousness of being in the same assem- bly with her old lover gave her a sense of oppression akin to pain. The mem- ories that she had for years thrust away came back to her with such vividness, that she felt half inclined to question whether all that had passed intermediate- ly was not a dream. Wealth, triumph, homage, luxury all seemed just now less real than the recollections which she hated, yet could not banish. These recollections, however, cast no shade over her beautiful face, when, af- ter the opera, she entertained Grantham, Danesford, and a few other privileged visitors, at the most recherche of suppers. She was, on the contrary, even more brilliant, more audacious, more charm- ing than. usual; and Danesford, at least, fell more deeply and hopelessly in love than ever. But when all was over, the last guest gone, Mariette bidden good-night, and silk and lace and jewels laid aside, Mrs. Trafford, in a role de chambre hardly less becoming than the toilet she had taken off, sat in a deep chair before her mir- ror, and, while her maid combed out the abundant masses of her hair, allowed her- self for the first time to consider the meeting of the evening and all that might result from it. "It is strange," she thought, "that my strong instinct against what Mari- ette calls ' English - speaking countries ' sh&uld be justified by my meeting, be- fore I have been in London a week, the first person associated with the past whom I have met all these years. I am not a fatalist, but it seems to me almost more than strange ! If that man enters A SHADOW OF THE PAST. 131 my life again, it must be for a purpose it must be that I may deal back to him what he dealt to me long ago. But I have no desire for anything of the kind. I would rather forget that he exists. To see him, to speak to him, to recall the hateful memory of that time, would be unspeakably painful to me. I am almost coward enough to think of leaving Lon- don. But that would not do, for it would look as if I shrank from meeting him; and I have no reason to do that. I scarcely think he will venture to seek me out. If he does, the consequences must be on his own head. That will do, Celine," she said to her maid. " Put up my hair, and let me go to bed ; I am tired." If Marchmont had been puzzled in the opera-house to decide whether Mrs. Traf- f ord could be Amy Keynolds, he was still more puzzled, still more uncertain, after- ward. He decided again and again that such a thing was impossible, only to find his mind going back over the same ground and debating the same question. Directly or indirectly, he had never heard of Amy after he received the news of her marriage to Mr. Trafford. Now and then he had given her a stray thought, and wondered a little what had become of her, but no rumor concerning her had reached his ears; and it seemed, there- fore, too wild an idea for probability that the music-teacher's penniless daughter should have bloomed into a social celeb- rity in the first capitals of Europe. Nevertheless, he could "not banish from his mind the perfect face, the daz- zling presence, the high-bred grace of the woman whom he had seen at the opera. Before parting with Bowling, he ex- tracted from that gentleman all the infor- mation of which he was possessed con- cerning her ; and this information, meagre as it was, filled 'him with a vague sense of aspiration. "What a prize was here for a man who should be bold enough to grasp it! Following this thought came another, "Why should not I be the man?" Diffidence of their power to please any and every woman is not. a failing of men in general, nor was it a failing of Marchmont in particular ; yet he was able to appreciate the presumption involved in this idea. He remembered the appear- ance of the men whom he had seen sur- rounding Mrs. Trafford, and he knew that to rival such men successfully would be no trifling task. Nor was it a task to which he serious- ly thought of setting himself. He only thought that, if circumstances should throw him in the path of the fair widow, he would feel inclined to put forth all his energy to stake everything on the chance of winning her. "Unless I am mistaken," he said to himself, " she is mistress of a fascination which would soon make a man forget everything but herself. ' I should like to come in contact with such a woman ! I have never yet met one capable of inspir- ing that species of worship which borders on infatuation, and it would be something to feel, if only for the sake of a new sen- sation." " Did you dream of my beauty of the opera last night, Mr. Marchmont ? " was Nelly Paget's first question when they met at breakfast the next morning. "/ did. I dreamed that she turned out to be the princess I thought her first, and that she came and took me to drive in a green-and-gold chariot." " I did not dream of her, but of the person who I fancied she might be," Marchmont answered. " I mean " as Miss Paget lifted her eyebrows interroga- tively " that I dreamed of a girl I knew long ago who became Mrs. Trafford, and who, therefore, I fancied last night this Mrs. Trafford might be." "But, as Mr. Bowling said," observed Mrs. Paget, "how could you possibly be in doubt? One sees such a face so sel- dom" 132 AFTER MANY DAYS. "I was in doubt because the girl whom I knew married very young, and a deluge has passed over my memory of her face^'^he answered, carelessly. "I only know that she was very pre.tty, and gave promise of greater beauty." "I suppose you were in love with her," said Walter Paget, breaking an egg with the serious air which the operation demanded. "Hardly that," Marchmont replied. " But we amused ourselves with tolerable satisfaction to each other for a short time. I have not heard of her, however, in quite ten years. She may be dead, or widowed, for aught I know." "What was her name?" asked Miss Paget, with interest. " Perhaps your ' early love with her primrose face ' had she a primrose face ? and Mrs. Traffbrd may be the same. If so, how delightful ! On the score of your old flirtation you can claim acquaintance, and introduce me. By-the-by, did you flirt with her, or did she flirt with you ? " " Nelly ! " ejaculated Mrs. Paget. " There is no harm in the question," said Nelly, calmly. "In flirting, as in everything else, one party is generally active and the other passive; in other words, one is the flirter and the other the flirtee. Which were you in this case, Mr. Marchmont ? " Marchmont was far past the age of blushing from a sense of guilt or any other reason but he anathematized Miss Paget in his mind, while he answered, as composedly as possible : "Of course I was the flirtee. From my trusting nature I could never possibly be anything else." " How odd that truthfulness of nature is one of the last traits with which I should have thought of crediting you ! " said Miss Paget, amid a general laugh; " but, of course, you know yourself best. You have not yet told me, however, the name of the girl who flirted with you ? " " I did not exactly make the statement so broad as that," said Marchmont, anath- ematizing this very inquisitive young lady more and more. "Her name was Reynolds Amy Reynolds." "Amy Reynolds? " repeated Miss Pa- get. "The name has a gentle, guileless sound perhaps because it resembles Amy Robsart. Notwithstanding your truthful- ness of nature, Mr. Marchmont, I am afraid you were not the flirtee in that affair." " To a judgment pronounced on such accurate grounds I cannot possibly de- mur," said Marchmont, smiling. " Intuition is sometimes a short road to the truth," said she, looking at him with eyes full of a laughing challenge to contradict her. But Mr. Paget interposed here with some plan for the day's amusement, and the conversation, to Marchmont's relief, took another turn. A day or two passed without the Pa- get party seeing or hearing anything more of Mrs. Traffbrd. Their next glimpse of her was obtained in the Park, where they were sitting one afternoon, when a quiet but handsomely-appointed park-phaeton drew up near the railing immediately in frent of their chairs. " Oh, look there she is ! " Nelly ex- claimed, eagerly. : "Now you can see, Mary " this to her sister - in - law " whether she is not as lovely by daylight as by artificial light." "My dear Nelly, if you don't take care she will hear you ? " Mrs. Paget ex- postulated. " You know I only said that it was difficult to tell anything about a woman's real beauty, when you have only seen her at night across an opera- house." " Well, now you can tell how real her beauty is ! " said Nelly, triumphantly. " She looks even more handsome than she did the other night." This was a slight exaggeration, per- haps ; but Mrs. Traffbrd certainly looked very handsome, in a carriage-costume of pearl-gray silk, her fair face framed by AT LAST! one of the most graceful hats ever fash- ioned in Paris, from which a soft, curling plume drooped on the rich masses of her chestnut hair. Mariette's costume, though less rich, was not less elegant, and its spring-like tints suited her delicate loveliness, which suggested all things fresh and dainty. It would have been difficult to find two more beautiful faces in all that stream of equipages, and the loungers of the Kow manifested their appreciation by stares and comments uttered to each other. Among these loungers were several of Mrs. Trafford's acquaintances, who soon gathered round her carriage; and it chanced that one of them, in a tone loud enough to be heard by Nelly Paget, spoke to or of " Miss Reynolds." The girl started and turned to March- mont, who was standing near, but who, in talking to a friend whom he had en- countered, had not observed the dra wing- up of Mrs. Trafford's equipage. " Mr. Marchmont," she said, quickly, "did you hear that? One of those gen- tlemen called the young lady with Mrs. Trafford ' Miss Reynolds ! ' " " Are you sure ? " said Marchmont, turning eagerly. "How do you know that he was alluding " Then he stopped, for he suddenly caught sight of the carriage and its occu- pants of Mariette's exquisite face under the shade of her rose-lined parasol, and of Mrs. Traflford, leaning back " With that regal, indolent air she had, So confident of her charm." " There was no room for mistake," said Miss Paget; "I heard it distinctly, and the young lady turned in response. No doubt she is Mrs. Trafford's sister I think I see some resemblance hetween the two and no doubt, also, Mrs. Traf- ford is your early love. Do, Mr. March- mont, go and claim her acquaintance, and say that you have a friend you would like to present." She looked up in his face, half laugh- ing, half in earnest wholly persuasive ; hut Marchmont felt more singularly moved by this discovery than he could have imagined possible. There was something so strange in finding, thus elevated above him, the girl he had patronized and trifled with, that for once his ease and readiness in any emergency failed. "I cannot venture to claim Mrs. Traf- ford's acquaintance on a mere supposi- tion," he said ; " but I will go nearer to the carriage and see if she recognizes mo at all." He advanced to the rails as he spoke, and finding a vacant place near Mrs. Traf- ford's horses, he took his position there, and calmly fastened his eyes on the lady's face. "We all know the magnetism of an in- tent gaze, and it was not long before Mrs. Trafford glanced toward him and their eyes met. There was no wavering of the color in her cheek, no drooping of the fringed lids. Her brilliant, dauntless eyes looked at him for an instant as they might have looked at any other indifferent face ; then turned carelessly back to the man with whom she was talking. There was no room for doubt ; if this was Amy Reynolds, she did not remem- ber, or did not choose to recognize, him. Either idea was so mortifying to his vanity that he turned and moved abrupt- ly away. CHAPTER III. AT LAST! AMONG the throng in the Park that afternoon waa a man who stood in the rear of the chairs, leaning against a tree while he regarded with an air of calm attention the moving stream of equipages, with their fair occupants, and the gor- geous young men walking up and down the Row, or lounging in knots near the rails. The sylvan distances of the Park spread 134 AFTER MANY DAYS. around, the emerald foliage and grass making a beautiful setting for the brilliant picture ; the level sun-rays caught the Serpentine, as it gleamed under the fine old trees that fringed it ; and the air of the late afternoon was delightfully sweet and balmy. The man who observed all this with quiet, meditative eyes was not more than twenty-eight or thirty a man with noth- ing strikingly unconventional in his ap- pearance, no unmistakable outward sign of Bohemianism about him yet who mani- festly belonged to another world than this which was on dress-parade before him. Though not a man of fashion, he was plainly a gentleman, and his face pos- sessed an attraction apart from its good looks though good looks were not lack- ing to it. Men and women, and even children, were always attracted by the frankness of his gaze and the genial sweet- ness of the smile which often curved his heavily-bearded lip. His features were more strongly than regularly cut, but were not altogether deficient in grace, and his brown, curling hair was pushed carelessly back from a broad open fore- head. " What, Dinsmore ! is tms you ? " said a young man, suddenly passing before him. "I wasn't aware that you had be- come an lidbitue of the Eow ! How goes it with the ' Duchess May ? ' " " Not very well," answered Dinsmore, with a laugh, while a stout, florid matron in brown silk turned and put up her eye- glass to look at him, plainly esteeming the acquaintance of a duchess worth scru- tinizing. "You know, perhaps, that it was not finished in time for the exhibi- tion. The fact is, I cannot satisfy myself with regard to the face of the duchess. I have painted in at least a dozen faces, and painted them out again." "That's deucedly unpleasant," said the other, in a sympathizing tone. " Per- haps you will find a face here that will serve as an inspiration," he added, nod- ding toward the drive. " I was thinking the same thing my- self," said Dinsmore. "But, although I have seen a score or two of lovely and high-bred faces, I fear I have not seen the Duchess May, nor any suggestion of her." "Yonder is a duke's daughter, and one of the beauties of the season ; will not she serve as an inspiration ? " Dinsmore glanced at the noble lady in question, with that quick, comprehensive artist-glance which takes in at once out- line, coloring, and expression, and shook his head. " Handsome and commonplace," was his uncompromising verdict. " Had she been the Duchess May, her 'Rhyme' would never have been written, for she would have married Leigh of Leigh in the most decorous manner from the be- ginning." " Well, here comes another beauty and belle, par excellence, whose 'little hand holds muckle gold.' Will she do ? " "For the girl of the period yes," answered Dinsmore, looking at the bloom- ing heiress indicated. " For the embodi- ment of the beautiful and the heroic, which I need no." " Then yonder comes the woman you need Lady Wriottan. No woman in London more admired ; and with reason. She looks like the daughter of a Norman knight." "And would look so under any cir- cumstances," said Dinsmore, calmly. " A finely-chiseled face, but as cold as it is haughty. Some cold faces have possi- bilities of passion in them; that face has none." "By Jove, you are hard to please! " said the other, who, it may be explained, was a painter also, but with more social pretensions than his friend. " I suppose, by-the-by, you have seen Millais's portrait of Lady Wriottan ? What do you think of it ? " And they plunged into profes- sional talk. It was in the midst of this that Dins- more chanced to glance up a minute later, AT LAST! 135 and the same instant he caught his com- panion's arm in a vise-like grasp. " Look yonder, Keade ! " he said. " Who is that lady in the carriage which has just drawn up by the rail ? " Eeade stared round in not unnatural bewilderment. " I see a great many carriages and a great many ladies," he said. " Which do you mean ? " "Look a little to the right there, Justin front of that plane-tree," answered Dinsmore, hoarsely "a chestnut-haired woman in a gray-silk dress and gray hat. Who is she ? " " Oh ! I see whom you mean, now, and I don't wonder at your excitement though you might remember that my arm is not made of India-rubber. That is a very famous beauty, my dear fellow, and she is known as Mrs. Trafford. Will she do for the Duchess May ? " Dinsmore did not seem to hear the question, and Eeade was amazed to per- ceive that the color had faded altogether out of his face as he gazed at Mrs. Traf- ford like one entranced. Finally he drew a deep breath, and said aloud, yet evidently to himself, " At last!" " At last ! " repeated the other, too full of curiosity to be able to restrain the question which rose to his lips. " Is it possible you know Mrs. Trafford? " Dinsmore started at this, and seemed to recollect himself. " No," he answered. "I have never in my life spoken to Mrs. Trafford." " But you've seen her before? " "Yes, I have se,en her before," he replied; and, unconsciously to himself, there was the echo of a pang in his voice. " Hers is a face one could not easily forget," said Eeade. " I saw her in Paris two years ago, and I knew her at once when I saw her just now. There's a fas- cination a sort of personal magnetism about her that even more than her beauty serves to impress her on the memory. I can credit that she is a veritable Circe." "Is that her reputation?" Dinsmore asked, still gazing with intent, wistful eyes at the fair face so unconscious of his scrutiny. " If you know anything of her, I'm surprised you don't know that!" the other replied. ' I saw pale kings and princes, too Pale warriors, death-pale were they all ; They cried, " La belle Dame sans nierci Hath thee in thrall." ' And that is pretty much what her cap- tives cry, I believe." The careless, laughing tone in which these words were uttered seemed to jar on Dinsmore. He drew his brows slight- ly together and turned. "Poor Amy! "he said to himself; but Eeade did not catch the words. Then he added, aloud : " I believe I must go now ; you've become such a man of fashion that I suppose you have cut painting for the present. But, of course, I'll be glad to see you whenever you choose to look in at the studio. Good-day ! " He nodded and walked away in the opposite direction from Mrs. Traff ord's carriage, and Eeade stared after him for a second. " By Jove, I believe the fel- low has known her, and has been badly hit, too ! " he muttered. " Who would have thought it?" He strolled on leisurely, and, a minute later, was accosted by a man whom he knew tolerably well the same Mr. Bowl- ing who was Marchmont's acquaintance. " Well met, Eeade ! " the latter said. " You are the very man I've been wishing to see. Don't you want to be presented to a pretty, piquant American girl ? She is anxious to visit some artists' studios, and, since I don't know much about such matters, I want you to take her in charge." "Thanks for your kind intention," answered Eeade. "If she is sola, I have no strong objection to 'taking her in charge ; ' but if she is one of a squad, P beg to decline the honor." 136 AFTER MANY DAYS. "She is one of a party of three or four, all pleasant, well - bred people. Come, don't be churlish! Do you see that brown-haired, well-dressed girl sit- ting yonder no, more to the right? That is Miss Paget. I'll take you and present you at once." There was something in the appear- ance of the brown-haired girl in question which prevented any further demur on Keade's part, and so it chanced that Nel- ly Paget glanced up as the young men were approaching, and, recognizing Bowl- ing, smiled cordially. "You find us quite forsaken, Mr. Bowling," she said, putting out a small, gray-gloved hand as he paused. "Wal- ter and Mr. Marchmont have both van- ished, and left Mary and myself alone. I am glad you have appeared. I had ever so many questions to ask you about the notabilities and celebrities, until the ap- pearance of Mrs. Trafford put them all out of my head! Have you seen her? Isn't she looking superbly handsome ? " "There can't be two opinions on that score," Bowling answered, smiling at the girl's enthusiasm. "I have brought the artist-friend of whom I spoke yesterday, to present to Mrs. Paget and yourself," he went on. " Will you allow me ? " Then the introduction took place in due form, and Eeade was pleased with the fresh, frank young face lifted toward him. There was never any difficulty in talking to Nelly Paget, for she was clever and always self-possessed; therefore they were soon comparing notes on the brill- iant scene before them. " Yes, I have tried the Drive and the Row," she said, in answer to a question of his, " but I think it is more amusing to sit here and enjoy the show as a show. I find the driving tedious, and, as for the riding, I do not like the gaits of your English horses." " Nor our English mode of riding, jperhaps?" " I did not care to say that, but I con- fess I thought it. To the eye of one not accustomed to it, the English manner of riding is not graceful." " I have heard that charge made be- fore. In fact, it has only been a few minutes since I parted with one of your countrymen who does not hesitate to de- clare that the English mode of riding is only remarkable for awkwardness." " One of my countrymen ! Will you excuse me if I ask who it was? One meets a great many friends unexpected- ly-" " I am afraid you will not discover a friend in Dinsmore, though he is a capital fellow. I have heard him say that he has been in Europe ten years, and he lives the life of a recluse paints hard all the time, and is steadily advancing in ability and success." " He is an artist, then like yourself? " The young man laughed. "He is an artist, but not at all like myself. I am a trifler and idler ; he is a devoted worker, and in ten years more he will be at the top of the ladder of fame. Of that I'm confident." " You are a very good friend to speak of him so warmly," said the girl. "But will you excuse me if I say that I think it is very odd for you to talk of yourself as ' a trifler and idler ? ' " "It is generally well to speak the truth, is it not?" " But I meant that it is odd it should le the truth. How can a man with such a talent neglect it? how can he have such a profession and fail to feel enthusi- asm for it ? " " Why are original sin and idleness and general depravity in the world, Miss Pa- get ? " asked he, smiling. " It is a shame for a man to shrink from the drudgery of his profession; but some of us do, nevertheless. I am glad, however, that the guild of artists has found favor in your eyes." " I am very fond of artists," she said, frankly. "They are generally original, unconventional, and strikingly unlike the men one meets in ordinary society." AT LAST! 137 "May I venture to bow? I flatter myself that I am all those things."