p Plji ii 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD 
 
 A NOVEL, 
 
 BY 
 
 CAROLINE LEE HENTZ. 
 
 A // 
 
 TENTH THOUSAND. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN P. JEWETT AND COMPANY. 
 
 CLEVELAND, OHIO: 
 
 JEWETT, PROCTOR AND WORTIIINGTOX. 
 
 NEW YORK : SHELDON, BLA.KEMAN AND COMPANY. 
 
 1856. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 
 CAROLINE LEE HENTZ, 
 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 ALLEN AND FARNIIAM. STEREOTYFERS AND PRINTERS. 
 
M ^ i s J 
 
 ERSEST UN WOOD. 
 
^ v 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WITH an incident of my childhood I will commence the 
 record of my life. It stands out in bold prominence, rugged 
 and bleak, through the haze of memory. 
 
 I was only twelve years old. He might have spoken less 
 harshly. He might have remembered and pitied my youth and 
 sensitiveness, that tall, powerful, hitherto kind man, my pre 
 ceptor, and, as I believed, iny friend. Listen to what he did say, 
 in the presence of the whole school of boys, as well as girls, 
 assembled on that day to hear the weekly exercises read, writ 
 ten on subjects which the master had given us the previous 
 week. 
 
 One by one, we were called up to the platform, where he sat 
 enthroned in all the majesty of the Olympian king-god. One 
 by one, the manuscripts were read by their youthful authors, 
 the criticisms uttered, which marked them with honor or 
 shame, gliding figures passed each other, going and return 
 ing, while a hasty exchange of glances, betrayed the flash of 
 triumph, or the gloom of disappointment. 
 
 " Gubriella Lynn ! " The name sounded like thunder in my 
 ears. I rose, trembling, blushing, feeling as if every pair of 
 eyes in the hall were burning like red hot balls on my face. I 
 tried to move, but my feet were glued to the floor. 
 
 1* (5) 
 
$ ; : ftll $- E S T L I N W O O D . 
 
 " Gabriella Lynn ! " 
 
 The tone was louder, more commanding, and I dared not 
 resist the mandate. The greater fear conquered the less. With 
 a desperate effort I walked, or rather rushed, up the steps, the 
 paper fluttering in my hand, as if blown upon by a strong wind. 
 
 " A little less haste would be more decorous, Miss." 
 
 The shadow of a pair of beetling brows rolled darkly over 
 me. Had I stood beneath an overhanging cliff, with the ocean 
 waves dashing at my feet, I could not have i elt more awe or 
 dread. A mist settled on my eyes. 
 
 "Read," cried the master, waving his ferula with a com 
 manding gesture, "our time is precious." 
 
 I opened my lips, but no sound issued from my paralyzed 
 tongue. With a feeling of horror, which the intensely diffident 
 can understand, and only they, I turned and was about to fly 
 back to my seat, when a large, strong hand pressed its weight 
 upon my shoulder, and arrested my flight. 
 
 " Stay where you are," exclaimed Mr. Regulus. " Have I 
 not lectured you a hundred times on this preposterous shame- 
 facedness of yours ? Am I a Draco, with laws written in blood, 
 a tyrant, scourging with an iron rod, that you thus shrink and 
 tremble before me ? Read, or suffer the penalty due to disobe 
 dience and waywardness." 
 
 Thus threatened, I commenced in a husky, faltering voice, 
 the reading of lines which, till that moment, I had believed 
 glowing with the inspiration of genius. Now, how flat and 
 commonplace they seemed ! It was the first time I had ever 
 ventured to reveal to others the talent hidden with all a miser s 
 vigilance in my bosom casket. I had lisped in rhyme, I had 
 improvised in rhyme, I had dreamed in poetry, when the 
 moon and stars were looking down- on me with benignant lus 
 tre ; I had tlwugld poetry at the sunset hour, amid twilight 
 shadows and midnight darkness. I had scribbled it at early 
 morn in my own little room, at noonday recess at my solitary 
 desk ; but no human being, save my mother, knew of the young 
 dream-girl s poetic raptures. 
 
 One of those irresistible promptings of the spirit which all 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 7 
 
 have felt, and to which many have yielded, induced me at this 
 era to break loose from my shell and come forth, as I imagined, 
 a beautiful and brilliant butterfly, soaring up above the gaze of 
 my astonished and admiring companions. Yes ; with all my 
 diffidence I anticipated a scene of triumph, a dramatic scene, 
 which would terminate perhaps in a crown of laurel, or a pub 
 lic ovation. 
 
 Lowly self-estimation is by no means a constant accompani 
 ment of diffidence. The consciousness of possessing great 
 powers and deep sensibility often creates bashfulness. It is 
 their veil and guard while maturing and strengthening. It is 
 the flower-sheath, that folds the corolla, till prepared to encoun 
 ter the sun s burning rays. 
 
 " Read ! " 
 
 I did read, one stanza. I could not go on though the 
 scaffold were the doom of my silence. 
 
 " What foolery is this ! Give it to me." 
 
 The paper was pulled from my clinging fingers. Clearing 
 his throat with a loud and prolonged hem, then giving a 
 flourish of his ruler on the desk, he read, in a tone of withering 
 derision, the warm breathings of a child s heart and soul, strug 
 gling after immortality, the spirit and trembling utterance of 
 long cherished, long imprisoned yearnings. 
 
 Now, when after years of reflection I look back on that 
 never-to-be-forgotten moment, I can form a true estimate of the 
 poem subjected to that fiery ordeal, I wonder the paper did not 
 scorch and shrivel up like a burning scroll. It did not deserve 
 ridicule. The thoughts were fresh and glowing, the measure 
 correct, the versification melodious. It was the genuine off 
 spring of a young imagination, urged by the " strong necessity " 
 of giving utterance to its bright idealities, the sighings of a heart 
 looking beyond its lowly and lonely destiny. Ah ! Mr. Regu- 
 lus, you were cruel then. 
 
 Methinks I see him, hear him now, weighing in the iron 
 scales of criticism every springing, winged idea, cutting and 
 slashing the words till it seemed to me they dropped blood, 
 
8 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 then glancing from me to the living rows of benches with such 
 a cold, sarcastic smile. 
 
 " What a barbarous, unfeeling monster ! " perhaps I hear 
 some one exclaim. 
 
 No, he was not. lie could be very kind and indulgent. He 
 had been kind and generous to me. He gave me my tuition, 
 and had taken unwearied pains with my lessons. He could for 
 give great offences, but had no toleration for little follies. He 
 really thought it a sinful waste of time to write poetry in 
 school. He had given me a subject for composition, a useful, 
 practical one, but not at all to my taste, and I had ventured to 
 disregard it. I had jumped over the rock, and climbed up to 
 the flowers that grew above it. He was a thorough mathemati 
 cian, a celebrated grammarian, a renowned geographer and lin 
 guist, but I then thought he had no more ear for poetry or 
 music, no more eye for painting, the painting of God, or 
 man, than the stalled ox, or the Greenland seal. I did him 
 injustice, and he was unjust to me. I had not intended to slight 
 or scorn the selection he had made, but I could not write upon 
 it, I could not help my thoughts flowing into rhyme. 
 
 Can the stream help gliding and rippling through its flowery 
 margins? Can the bird help singing and warbling upward into 
 the deep blue sky, sending down a silver shower of melody as 
 it flies? 
 
 Perhaps some may think I am swelling small things into 
 great; but incidents and actions are to be judged by their re 
 sults, by their influence in the formation of character, and the 
 hues they reflect on futurity. Had I received encouragement 
 instead of rebuke, praise instead of ridicule, had he taken 
 me by the hand and spoken some such kindly words as these : 
 
 " This is very well for a little girl like you. Lift up that 
 
 downcast face, nor blush and tremble, as if detected in a guilty 
 
 / act. You must not spend too much time in the reveries of 
 
 \ imagination, for this is a working-day Avoiid, my child. Even 
 
 the birds have to build their nests, and the coral insect is a 
 
 mighty laborer. The gift, of song is sweet, and may be made 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 9 
 
 an instrument of the Creator s glory. The first notes of the 
 lark are feeble, compared to his heaven-high strains. The 
 fainter dawn precedes the risen day." 
 
 Oh ! had he addressed me in indulgent words as these, who 
 knows but that, like burning Sappho, I might have sang as well 
 as loved ? ^YliQ knows but that the golden gates of the Eden 
 of immortality might have opened to admit the wandering Peri 
 to her long-lost home ? I might have been the priestess of a 
 shrine of Delphic celebrity, and the world have offered burning 
 incense at my altar. I might have w r on the laurel crown, and 
 found, perchance, thorns hidden under its triumphant leaves. 
 I might, but it matters not. The divine spark is undying, 
 and though circumstances may smother the flame it enkindles, 
 it glows in the bosom with unquenchable fire. 
 
 I remember very well what the master said, instead of the 
 imagined words I have written. 
 
 "Poetry, is it? or something you meant to be called by 
 that name? Nonsense, child folly moon-beam hallucina 
 tion ! Child ! do you know that this is an unpardonable 
 waste of time ? Do you remember that opportunities of im 
 provement are given you to enable you hereafter to secure an 
 honorable independence ? This accounts for your reveries over 
 the blackboard, your indifference to mathematics, that grand 
 and glorious science ! Poetry ! ha, ha ! I began to think you 
 did not understand the use of capitals, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Did you ever imagine how a tender loaf of bread must feel 
 when cut into slices by the sharpened knife ? How the young 
 bark feels when the iron wedge is driven through it with cleav 
 ing force? I think I can, by the experience of that hour. I 
 srood with quivering lip, burning cheek, and panting breast, 
 my eyes riveted on the paper which he flourished in his left 
 hand, pointing at it with the forefinger of his right. 
 
 " lie shall not go on," said I to myself, exasperation giv 
 ing me boldness, " he shall not read what I have written of 
 my mother. I will die sooner. He may insult my poverty, 
 but hers shall be sacred, and her sorrows too." 
 
 I sprang forward, forgetting every thing in the fear of hear- 
 
10 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 ing her name associated with derision, and attempted to get pos 
 session of the manuscript. A fly might as well attempt to wring 
 the trunk of the elephant. 
 
 " Really, little poetess, you are getting bold. I should like to 
 see you try that again. You had better keep quiet." 
 
 A resolute glance of the keen, black eye, resolute, yet twink 
 ling with secret merriment, and he was about to commence 
 another stanza. 
 
 I jumped up with the leap of the panther. I could not loosen 
 his strong grasp, but I tore the paper from round his fingers, 
 ran down the steps through the rows of desks and benches, 
 without looking to the right or left, and flew without bonnet or 
 covering out into the broad sunlight and open air. 
 
 " Come back, this moment ! " 
 
 The thundering voice of the master rolled after me, like a 
 heavy stone, threatening to crush me as it rolled. I bounded 
 on before it with constantly accelerating speed. 
 
 "Go back, never ! " 
 
 I said this to myself. I repeated it aloud to the breeze that 
 came coolly and soothingly through the green boughs, to fan 
 the burning cheeks of the fugitive. At length the dread of 
 pursuit subsiding, I slackened my steps, and cast a furtive 
 glance behind me. The cupola of the academy gleamed white 
 through the oak trees that surrounded it, and above them the 
 glittering vane, fashioned in the form of a giant pen, seemed 
 writing on the azure page of heaven. 
 
 My home, the little cottage in the woods, was one mile dis 
 tant. There was a by-path, a foot-path, as it was culled, which 
 cut the woods in a diagonal line, and which had been trodden 
 hard and smooth by the feet of the children. Even at mid-day 
 there was twilight in that solitary path, and when the shadows 
 deepened and lengthened on the plain, they concentrated into 
 gloominess there. The moment I turned into that path, I was 
 supreme. It was mine. The public road, the thoroughfare 
 leading through the heart of the town, belonged to the world. 
 I was obliged to walk there like other people, with mincing 
 steps, and bonnet tied primly under the chin, according to the 
 
E K N E S T L I X W O O D . 11 
 
 rule and plummet line of school-girl propriety. But in my 
 own little by-path, I could do just as I pleased. I could run 
 with my bonnet swinging in my hand, and my hair floating like 
 the wild vine of the woods. I could throw myself down on the 
 grass at the foot of the great trees, and looking up into the 
 deep, distant sky, indulge my own wondrous imaginings. 
 
 I did so now. I cast myself panting on the turf, and turning 
 my face downward instead of upward, clasped my hands over it, 
 and the hot tears gushed in scalding streams through my fingers, 
 till the pillow of earth was all wet as with a shower. 
 
 Oh, they did me good, those fast-gushing tears ! There was 
 comfort, there was luxury in them. Bless God for tears ! How 
 they cool the dry and sultry heart! How they refresh the 
 fainting virtues ! How they revive the dying affections ! 
 
 The image of my pale sweet, gentle mother rose softly 
 through the falling drops. A rainbow seemed to crown her 
 with its sevenfold beams. 
 
 Dear mother ! would she will me to go back where the 
 giant pen dipped its glittering nib into the deep blue ether ? 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " GET up, Gabriella, you must not lie here on the damp 
 ground. Get up, it is almost night. What will your mother 
 say ? what will she think has become of you ? " 
 
 I started up, bewildered and alarmed, passing my hands 
 dreamily over my swollen eyelids. Heavy shadows hung over 
 the woods. Night was indeed approaching. I had fallen into 
 a deep sleep, and knew it not. 
 
 It was Richard Clyde who awakened me. His schoolmaster 
 called him Dick, but I thought it sounded vulgar, and he was 
 always Richard to me. A boy of fifteen, the hardest student 
 in the academy, and, next to my mother and Peggy, the best 
 friend I had in the world. I had no brother, and many a time 
 had he acted a brother s part, when I had needed a manly 
 champion. Yet my mother had enjoined on me such strict re 
 serve in my intercourse w^ith the boy pupils, and my disposition 
 was so shy, our acquaintance had never approached familiarity. 
 
 " I did not mean to shake you so hard," said he, stepping 
 back a few paces as he spoke, " but I never knew any one sleep 
 so like a log before. I feared for a moment that you were 
 dead." 
 
 " It would not be much matter if I were," I answered, hardly 
 knowing what I said, for a dull weight pressed on my brain, 
 and despondency had succeeded excitement. 
 
 " Oh, Gabriella ! is it not wicked to say that ? " 
 
 " If you had been treated as badly as I have, you would feel 
 like saying it too." 
 
 " Yes ! " he exclaimed, energetically, " you have been treated 
 badly, shamefully, and I told the master so to his face." 
 
 (12) 
 
E K N E S T L I N W O O D . 18 
 
 " You ! You did not, Richard. You only thought so. You 
 would not have told him so for all the world." 
 
 " But I did, though ! As soon as you ran out of school, it 
 seemed as if he made but one step to the door, and his face 
 looked as black as night. I thought if he overtook you, he 
 might, I did not know what he would do, he was so angry. 
 I sut near the door, and I jumped right up and faced him on 
 the threshold. Don t, sir, don t ! I cried ; she is a little girl, 
 and you a great strong man." 
 
 " What is that to you, sirrah ? he exclaimed, and the forked 
 lightning ran out of his eye right down my backbone. It aches 
 yet, Gabriella. 
 
 " It is a great deal, Sir, I answered, as bold as a lion. You 
 have treated her cruelly enough already. It would be cowardly 
 to pursue her." 
 
 " Oh, Richard ! how dared you say that ? Did he not strike 
 you?" 
 
 " He lifted his hand ; but instead of flinching, I made myself 
 as tall as I could, and looked at him right steadfastly. You 
 do not know how pale he looked, when I stopped him on the 
 threshold. His very lips turned white I declare there is 
 something grand in a great passion. It makes one look some 
 how so different from common folks. "Well, now, as soon as he 
 raised his hand to strike me, a red flush shot into his face, like 
 the blaze of an inward fire. It was shame, anger made him 
 white but shame turned him as red as blood. His arm drop 
 ped down to his side, then he laid his hand on the top of his 
 head, Stay after school, said he, * I must talk with you. " 
 
 " And did you ? " I asked, hanging with breathless interest 
 on his words." 
 
 " Yes ; I have just left him." 
 
 " He has not expelled you, Richard ? " 
 
 " No ; but he says I must ask his pardon before the whole 
 school to-morrow. It amounts to the same thing. I will never 
 do it." 
 
 " I am so sorry this has happened," said I. " Oh ! that I had 
 
 2 
 
14 EKNEST LIN WOOD 
 
 never written that foolish, foolish poetry. It has done so much 
 mischief." 
 
 "You are not to blame, Gabriella. He had no business to 
 laugh at it; it was beautiful all the boys say so. I have 
 no doubt you will be a great poetess one of these days. He 
 ought to have been proud of it, instead of making fun of you. 
 It was so mean." 
 
 " But you must go back to school, Richard. You are the 
 best scholar. The master is proud of you, and will not give 
 you up. I w r ould not have it said that /was the cause of your 
 leaving, for twice your weight in solid gold." 
 
 " Would you not despise me if I asked pardon, when I have 
 done no wrong ; to appear ashamed of what I glory in ; to act 
 the part of a coward, after publicly proclaiming him to be 
 one?" 
 
 " It is hard," said I, " but " 
 
 We were walking homeward all the while we were talking, 
 and at every step my spirits sank lower and lower. How differ 
 ent every thing seemed now, from what it did an hour ago. 
 True, I had been treated with harshness, but I had no right to 
 rebel as I had done. Had I kissed the rod, it would have lost 
 its sting, had I borne the smart with patience and gentle 
 ness, my companions would have sympathized with and pitied 
 me ; it would not have been known beyond the walls of the 
 academy. But now, it would be blazoned through the whole 
 town. The expulsion of so distinguished a scholar as Richard 
 Clyde would be the nine days gossip, the village wonder. And 
 I should be pointed out as the presumptuous child, whose dis 
 appointed vanity, irascibility, and passion had created rebellion 
 and strife in a hitherto peaceful seminary. I, the recipient of 
 the master s favors, an ingrate and a wretch ! My mother would 
 know this my gentle, pale-faced mother. 
 
 Our little cottage was now visible, with its low walls of gray 
 ish white, and vine-encircled windows. 
 
 " Richard," said I, walking as slowly as possible, though it 
 was growing darker every moment, " I feel very unhappy. I 
 
ERXEST LIN WOOD. 15 
 
 will go and see the master in the morning and ask him to punish 
 me ibr both. I will humble myself for your sake, for you have 
 been my champion, and I never will forget it as long as I live. 
 I was wrong to rush out of school as I did, wrong to tear 
 the paper from his hands, and I am willing to tell him so 
 now. It shall all be right yet, Richard, indeed it shall." 
 
 " You shall not humble yourself for me, Gubriella ; I like a 
 girl of spirit. 
 
 We had now reached the little gate that opened into our own 
 green yard. I could see my mother looking from the window for 
 her truant child. My heart began to palpitate, for no Catholic ever 
 made more faithful confessions to~Hls absolving priest, than I to 
 my only parent. Were I capable of concealing any thing from 
 her, I should have thought myself false and deceitful. With feel- 
 ings of love and reverence kindred to those with which I re 
 garded my Heavenly Father, I looked up to her, the incarnate 
 angel of my life. ^ This expression has been so often used it 
 does not seem to mean much ; but when I say it, I mean all the 
 filial heart is capable of feeling. I was poor in fortune, but 
 in her goodness rich. I was a lonely child, but sad and pen 
 sive as she was, she was a fountain of social joy to me. Then, 
 she was so beautiful so very, very lovely! 
 
 I caught the light of her pensive smile through the dimness 
 of the hour. She was so accustomed to my roaming in the 
 woods, she had suffered no alarm. 
 
 If my mother thinks it right, you will not object to my 
 going to see Mr. llegulus," said I, as Richard lifted the gate- 
 latch for me to enter. 
 
 " For yourself, no ; but not for me. I can take care of myself, 
 Gabriella." 
 
 He spoke proudly. He did not quite come up to my childish 
 idea of a boy hero, but I admired his self-reliance and bravery. 
 I did not want him to despise me or my lack of spirit. I began 
 to waver in my good resolution. 
 
 My mother called me, in that soft, gentle tone, so full of 
 music and of love. 
 
 In ten minutes I had told her all. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 IF I thought any language of mine could do justice to her 
 character, I would try to describe my mother. Were I to q)ek 
 of her, my voice "\vould choke at the mention of her name. 
 As I write, a mist gathers over my eyes. Grief for the lo~s of 
 such a being is immortal, as the love of which it is born. 
 
 I have said that we were poor, but ours was. not abject 
 poverty, hereditary poverty, though /had never known afflu 
 ence, or even that sufficiency which casts out the fear of want. 
 I knew that my mother was the child of wealth, and that she 
 had been nurtured in elegance and splendor. I inherited from 
 her the most fastidious tastes, without the means of gratifying 
 them. I felt that I had a right to be wealthy, and that misfor 
 tune alone had made my mother poor, had made her an alien 
 from her kindred and the scenes of her nativity. I felt a 
 strange pride in this conviction. Indeed there was a singular 
 union of pride and diilidence in my character, that kept me 
 aloof from my young companions, and closed up the avenues to 
 the social joys of childhood. 
 
 My mother thought a school life would counteract the influ 
 ence of her own solitary habits and example. She did not 
 wish me to be a hermit child, and for this reason accepted the 
 offer Mr. Eegulus made through the minister to become a 
 pupil in the academy. She might have sent me to the free 
 schools in the neighborhood, but she did not wish me to form 
 associations incompatible with the refinement she had so care- 
 full v cultivated in me. She might have continued to teach me 
 at home, for she was mistress of every accomplishment, but she 
 thought the discipline of an institution like this would give tone 
 (16) 
 
E R N E S T LI X \V O O D . 17 
 
 and firmness to my poetic and dreaming mind. She wanted me 
 to become practical, she wanted to see the bark growing and 
 hardening over the exposed and delicate fibres. She anticipated 
 for me the cold winds and beating rains of an adverse destiny. 
 I knew she did, though she had never told me so in words. I 
 read it in the anxious, wistful, prophetic expression of her soft, 
 deep black eyes, whenever they rested on me. Those beautiful, 
 mysterious eyes ! 
 
 There was a mystery about her that gave power to her ex 
 cellence and beauty. Through the twilight shades of her sor 
 rowful loneliness, I could trace only the dim outline of her past 
 life. I was fatherless, and annihilation, as well as death, 
 seemed the doom of him who had given me being. I was for 
 bidden to mention his name. Xo similitude of his features, no 
 token of his existence, cherished by love and hallowed by rev 
 erence, invested him with the immortality of memory. It was 
 as if he had never been. 
 
 Thus mantled in mystery, his image assumed a sublimity and 
 grandeur in my imagination, dark and oppressive as night. I 
 would sit and ponder over his mystic attributes, till he seemed 
 like those gods of mythology, who, veiling their divinity in 
 clouds, came down and wooed the daughters of men. A being 
 so lovely and good as my mother would never have loved a 
 common mortal. Perhaps he was some royal exile, who had 
 found her in his wanderings a beauteous flower, but dared not 
 transplant her to the garden of kings. 
 
 My mother little thought, when I sat in my simple calico 
 dress, my school-book open on rny knees, conning my daily les 
 sons, or seeming so to do, what wild, absurd ideas were revelling 
 in my brain. She little thought how high the " aspiring blood " 
 of mine mounted in that lowly, woodland cottage. 
 
 I told her the history of my humiliation, passion, and flight. 
 of Richard Clyde s brave defence and undaunted resolution, 
 of my sorrow on his account, of my shame and indignation 
 on my own. 
 
 " My poor Gabriella ! " 
 
 " You are not angry with me, my mother ? " 
 2* 
 
18 ERNE ST L IN WO OD . 
 
 "Angry! No, my child, it was a hard trial, very hard 
 for one so young. I did not think Mr. llegulus capable of so 
 much unkindness. He has cancelled this day a debt of grati 
 tude." 
 
 " My poor Gabriella," she again repeated, laying her delicate 
 hand gently on my head. " I fear you have a great deal to 
 contend with in this rough world. The flowers of poesy are 
 sweet, but poverty is a barren soil, my child. The dew that 
 moistens it, is tears." 
 
 I felt a tear on my hand as she spoke. Child as I was, I 
 thought that tear more holy and precious than the dew of 
 heaven. Flowers nurtured by such moisture must be sweet. 
 
 " I will never write any more," I exclaimed, with desperate 
 resolution. " I will never more expose myself to ridicule and 
 contempt." 
 
 " Write as you have hitherto done, for my gratification and 
 your own. Your simple strains have beguiled my lonely hours. 
 But had I known your purpose, I would have warned you of 
 the consequences. The child who attempts to soar above its 
 companions is sure to be dragged down by the hand of envy. 
 Your teacher saw in your effusion an unpardonable effort to rise 
 above himself, to diverge from the beaten track. You may 
 have indulged too much in the dreams of imagination. You 
 may have neglected your duties as a pupil. Lay your hand on 
 your heart and ask it to reply." 
 
 She spoke so calmly, so soothingly, so rationally, the fever 
 of imagination subsided. I saw the triumph of reason and 
 principle in her own self-control, for, when I was describing 
 the scene, her mild eye flashed, and her pale check colored with 
 an unwonted depth of hue. She had to struggle with her own 
 emotions, that she might subdue mine. 
 
 " May I ask him to pardon Richard Clyde, mother ? " 
 
 "The act would become your gratitude, but- 1 fear it would 
 avail nolhing. If he has required submission of him, he will 
 hardly accept yours as a substitute." 
 
 " Must I ask him to forgive me ? Must I return ? " 
 
 I hung breathlessly on her reply. 
 
ERNEST L I X W O O D . 19 
 
 " Wait till morning, my daughter. We shall both feel differ 
 ently then. I would not have you yield to the dictates of pas 
 sion, neither would I have you forfeit your self-respect. I must 
 not rashly counsel." 
 
 I would not let her go back at all," exclaimed a firm, de 
 cided voice. " They ain t fit to hold the water to wash her 
 hands." 
 
 " Peggy," said my mother, rebukingly, " you forget yourself." 
 
 " I always try to do that," she replied, while she placed on 
 the table my customary supper of bread and milk. 
 
 "Yes, indeed you do," answered my mother, gratefully, 
 " kind and faithful friend. But humility become th my child 
 better than pride." 
 
 Peggy looked hard at my mother, with a mixture of rever 
 ence, pity, and admiration in her clear, honest eye, then taking 
 a coarse towel, she rubbed a large silver spoon, till it shone 
 brighter and brighter, and laid it by the side of my bowl. She 
 had first spread a white napkin under it, to give my simple re 
 past an appearance of neatness and gentility. The bowl itself 
 was white, with a wreath of roses round the rim, both inside 
 and out. Those rosy garlands had been for years the delight 
 of my eyes. I always hailed the appearance of the glowing 
 leaves, when the milky fluid sunk below them, with a fresh ap 
 preciation of their beauty. They gave an added relish to the 
 Arcadian meal. They fed my love of the beautiful and the 
 pure. That large, bright silver spoon, I was never w r eary of 
 admiring that also. It was massive it was grand and 
 whispered a tale of former grandeur. Indeed, though the fur 
 niture of our cottage was of the simplest, plainest kind, there 
 were many things indicative of an earlier state of luxury and 
 elegance. My mother always used a golden thimble, she 
 had a toilet case inlaid with pearl, and many little articles ap 
 propriate only to wealth, and which wealth only purchases. 
 These were never displayed, but I had seen them, and made 
 them the corner-stones of many an airy castle. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AND whc was Peggy ? 
 
 She was one of the best and noblest women God ever raade. 
 She was a treasury of heaven s own influences. 
 
 And yet she wore the form of a servant, and like her divine 
 Master, there was " no beauty " in her that one should desire to 
 look upon her. 
 
 She had followed my mother through good report and ill re 
 port. She had clung to her in her fallen fortunes as something 
 sacred, almost divine. As the Hebrew to the ark of the cove 
 nant, as the Greek to his country s palladium, as the chil 
 dren of Freedom to the star-spangled banner, so she clung in 
 adversity to her whom in prosperity she almost worshipped. I 
 learned in after years, all that we owed this humble, self-sacri 
 ficing, devoted friend. I did not know it then at least not all 
 not half. I knew that she labored most abundantly for us, 
 that she ministered to my mother with as much deference as 
 if she were an empress, anticipating her slightest wants and 
 wishes, deprecating her gratitude, and seeming ashamed of her 
 own goodness and industry. I knew that her plain sewing, 
 assisted by my mother s elegant needle-work, furnished us the 
 means of support ; but I had always known it so, and it seemed 
 all natural and right. Peggy was strong and robust. The bur 
 den of toil rested lightly on her sturdy shoulders. It seemed to 
 me that she was born with us and for us, that she belonged 
 to us as rightfully as the air we breathed, and the light thai- 
 illumined us. It never entered my mind that we could live 
 without Peggy, or that Peggy could live without us. 
 
 My mother s health was very delicate. She could not sow 
 long without pressing her hand on her aching side, and then 
 Peggy would draw her work gently from her with her large, 
 (20) 
 
ERNEST LIN WO CD. 21 
 
 kind hand, make her lie down and rest, or walk out in the fresh 
 air, till the waxen hue was enlivened on her pallid cheek. 
 She would urge her to go into the garden and gather flowers 
 for Gabriella, " because the poor child loved so to see them in 
 the room." We had a sweet little garden, where Peggy delved 
 at early sunrise and evening twilight. Without ever seeming 
 hurried or overtasked, she accomplished every thing. We had 
 the earliest vegetables, and the latest. We had fruit, we had 
 flowers, all the result of Peggy s untiring, providing hand. 
 The surplus vegetables and fruit she carried to the village mar 
 ket, and though they brought but a trifle in a country town, 
 where every thing was so abundant, yet Peggy said, " we must 
 not despise the day of small gains." She took the lead in all 
 business matters in-doors and out-doors. She never asked my 
 mother if she had better do this and that; she went right 
 ahead, doing what she thought right and best, in every thing 
 pertaining to the drudgery of life. 
 
 When I was a little child, I used to ask her many a question 
 about the mystery of my life. I asked her about my father, of 
 my kindred, and the place of my birth. 
 
 Miss Gabriella," she would answer, " you must n t ask ques 
 tions. Your mother does not wish it. She has forbidden me 
 to say one word of all you want to know. When you are old 
 enough you shall learn every thing. Be quiet be patient. It 
 is best that you should be. But of one thing rest assured, if 
 ever there was a saint in this world, your mother is one." 
 
 I never doubted this. I should have doubted as soon the 
 saintline.-s of those who wear the golden girdles of Paradise. 
 I am glad of this. I have sometimes doubted the love and 
 mercy of my Heavenly Father, but never the purity and excel 
 lence or my mother. Ah, yes ! once when sorely tempted. 
 
 We retired very early in our secluded, quiet home. We had 
 no evening visitors to charm away the sober hours, and time 
 marked by the sands of the hour-glass always seems to glide 
 more slowly. That solemn-looking hour-glass ! How I used 
 to gaze on each dropping particle, watching the upward segment 
 gradually becoming more and more transparent, and the lower 
 
22 E R N E S T L I JS T W O O D . 
 
 as gradually darkening. It was one of Peggy s inherited treas 
 ures, and she reverenced it next to her Bible. The glass had 
 been broken and mended with putty, which formed a dark, 
 diagonal line across the venerable crystal. This antique chro 
 nometer occupied the central place on the mantel-piece, its glid 
 ing sands, though voiceless, for ever whispering of ebbing time 
 and everlasting peace. " Passing away, passing away," seemed 
 continually issuing from each meeting cone. I have no doubt 
 the contemplation of this ancient, solemn instrument, which old 
 Father Time is always represented as grasping in one unclench 
 ing hand, while he brandishes in the other the merciless scythe, 
 had a lasting influence on my character. 
 
 That night, it w r as long before I fell asleep. I lay awake 
 thinking of the morning s dawn. The starlight abroad, that 
 came in through the upper part of the windows, glimmered on 
 the dark frame and glassy surface of the old timepiece, which 
 stood out in bold relief from the whitewashed wall behind it. 
 Before I knew it, I was composing a poern on that old hour 
 glass. It was a hoary pilgrim, travelling on a lone and sea-beat 
 shore, towards a dim and distant goal, and the print of his foot 
 steps on the wave-washed sands, guided others in the same 
 lengthening journey. The scene was before me. I saw the 
 ancient traveller, his white locks streaming in the ocean blast; 
 I heard the deep murmur of the restless tide ; I saw the foot 
 steps ; and they looked like sinking graves ; when all at once, 
 in the midst of my solemn inspiration, a stern mocking face 
 came between me and the starlight night, the jeering voice of 
 my master was in my ears, a dishonored fragment was flutter 
 ing in my hand. The vision fled ; I turned my head on my 
 pillow and wept. 
 
 You may say such thoughts and visions were strangely pre 
 cocious in a child of twelve years old. I suppose they were ; 
 but I never remember being a .child. My sad, gentle mother, 
 the sober, earnest, practical Peggy, were the companions of my 
 infancy, instead of children of my own age. The sunlight of 
 my young life was not reflected from the golden locks of child 
 hood, its radiant smile and unclouded eye. I was defrauded 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 23 
 
 of the sweetest boon of that early season, a confidence that this 
 world is the happiest, fairest, best of worlds, the residence of 
 joy, beauty, and goodness. 
 
 A thoughtful child ! I do not like to hear it. What has a 
 little child to do with thought? That sad, though glorious re 
 version of our riper and darker years ? 
 
 Ah me ! I never recollect the time that my spirit was not 
 travelling to grasp some grown idea, to fathom the mystery of 
 my being, to roll away the shadows that surrounded me, grop 
 ing for light, toiling, then dreaming, .not resting. It was no 
 wonder I was weary before my journey was well begun. 
 
 " AYhat a remarkable countenance Gabriella has ! " I then 
 often heard it remarked. " Her features are childish, but her 
 eyes have such a peculiar depth of expression, so wild, and 
 yet so wise." 
 
 I wish I had a picture of myself taken at this period of my 
 life. I have no doubt I looked older then than I do now. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 I KNEW the path which led from the boarding-place of Mr. 
 Regulus crossed the one which I daily traversed. I met him 
 exactly at the point of intersection, under the shadow of a 
 great, old oak. The dew of the morning glittered on the shaded 
 grass. The clear light blue of the morning sky smiled through 
 upward quivering leaves. Every thing looked bright and buoy 
 ant, and as I walked on, girded with a resolute purpose, my 
 spirit caught something of the animation and inspiration of the 
 scene. 
 
 The master saw me as I approached, and I expected to see a 
 frown darken his brow. I felt brave, however, for I was about 
 to plead for another, not myself. He did not frown, neither did 
 he smile. lie seemed willing to meet me, he even slackened 
 his pace till I came up. I felt a sultry glow on my cheek when 
 I faced him, and my breath came quick and short. I was not 
 so very brave after all. 
 
 " Master Regulus," said I, " do not expel Richard Clyde, 
 do not disgrace him, because he thought I was not kindly dealt 
 with. I am sorry I ran from school as I did, I am sorry I 
 wrote the poem, I hardly knew what I was doing when I 
 snatched the paper from your hands. I suppose Richard 
 hardly knew what he was doing when he stopped you at the 
 door." 
 
 I did not look up while I was speaking, for had I met an 
 angry glance I should have rebelled. 
 
 " I am glad I have met you, Gabriella," said he, in a tone so 
 gentle, I lifted my eyes in amazement. His beamed with unu 
 sual kindness beneath his shading brows. Gone was the mock- 
 (24) 
 
K It N E 6 T L I N W O O I) . 25 
 
 ing gleam, gone the deriding smile. He looked serious, 
 earnest, almost sad, but not severe. Looking at his watch, and 
 then at the golden vane, as if that too were a chronometer, he 
 turned towards the old oak, and throwing himself carelessly on 
 a seat formed of a broken branch, partially severed from the 
 trunk, motioned me to sit down on the grass beside him. Quick 
 as lightning I obeyed him, untying my bonnet and pushing it 
 back from my head. I could scarcely believe the evidence of 
 my senses. There reclined the formidable master, like a great, 
 overgrown boy, his attitude alone banishing all restraint and 
 fear, and I, perched on a mossy rock, that looked as if placed 
 there on purpose for me to sit down upon, all my wounded and 
 exasperated feelings completely drowned in a sudden overflow 
 of pleasant emotions. I had expected scolding, rebuke, de 
 nial, I had armed myself for a struggle of power, I had 
 resolved to hazard Ji martyr s doom. 
 
 Oh, the magic of kindness on a child s heart! a lonely, sen 
 sitive, proud, yearning heart like mine ! T is the witch-hazel 
 wand that shows where the deep fountain is secretly welling. 
 I was ashamed of the tears that would gather into my eyes. 
 I shook my hair forward to cover them, and played with the 
 green leaves within my reach. 
 
 The awful space between me and this tall, stern, learned 
 man seemed annihilated. I had never seen him before, divested 
 of the insignia of authority, beyond the walls of the academy. 
 I had always been compelled to look up to him before ; now 
 we were on a level, on the green sward of the wild-wood. 
 God above, nature around, no human faces near, no fear of 
 man to check the promptings of ingenuous feeling. Softly the 
 folded flower petals of the heart began to unfurl. The morning 
 breeze caught their fragrance and bore it up to heaven. 
 
 "You thought me harsh and unkind, Gabriella," said the 
 master in a low, subdued voice, " and I fear I was so yester 
 day. I intended to do you good. I began sportively, but when 
 I saw you getting excited and angry, I became angry and 
 excited too. My temper, which is by no means gentle, had 
 been previously much chafed, and, as is too often the case, the 
 
 3 
 
26 E T< X E 3 T L I N W O O D . 
 
 irritation, caused by the offences of many, burst forth on one, 
 perhaps the most innocent of all. Little girl, you have been 
 studying the history of France ; do you remember its Louises ? 
 Louis the Fourteenth was a profligate, unprincipled, selfish 
 king. Louis the Fifteenth, another God-defying, self-adoring 
 sensualist. Louis the Sixteenth one of the most amiable, just, 
 Christian monarchs the world ever saw. Yet the accumulated 
 wrongs under which the nation had been groaning during the 
 reign of his predecessors, were to be avenged in his person, 
 innocent, heroic sufferer that he was. This is a most interest 
 ing historic fact, and bears out wonderfully the truth of God s 
 words. But I did not mean to give a lecture on history. It is 
 out of place here. I meant to do you good yesterday, and 
 discourage you from becoming an idle rhymer a vain 
 dreamer. You are not getting angry I hope, little girl, for I 
 am kind now." 
 
 " No, sir, no, indeed, sir," I answered, with my face all in a 
 glow. 
 
 " Your mother, I am told, wishes you to be educated for a 
 teacher, a profession which requires as much training as the 
 Spartan youth endured, when fitted to be the warriors of the 
 land. Why, you should be preparing yourself a coat of mail, 
 instead of embroidering a silken suit. How do you expect to 
 get through the world, child, and it is a hard world to the poor, 
 a cold world to the friendless, how do you expect to get along 
 through the briars and thorns, over the rocks and the hills with 
 nothing but a blush on your cheek, a tear in your eye, and a 
 sentimental song on your lips ? Independence is the reward 
 of the working mind, the thinking brain, and the earnest 
 heart." 
 
 He grew really eloquent as he went on. He raised his head 
 to an erect position, and ran his fingers through his bushy locks. 
 I cannot remember all he said, but every word he uttered had 
 meaning in it. I appreciated for the first time the difficulties 
 and trials of a teacher s vocation. I had thought before, that 
 it was the pupil only who bore the burden of endurance. It 
 had never entered my mind that the crown of authority covered 
 
ERNESTLINWOOD. 27 
 
 the thorns of care, that the wide sweep of command wearied 
 more than the restraint of subjection. I was flattered by the 
 manner in which he addressed me, the interest he expressed in 
 my future prospects. I found myself talking freely to him of 
 myself, of rny hopes and my fears. I forgot the tyrant of 
 yesterday in the friend of to-day. I remember one thing he 
 said, which is worth recording. 
 
 " It is very unfortunate when a child, in consequence of a 
 facility of making rhyme, is led to believe herself a poetess, 
 or, in other words, a prodigy. She is praised and flattered by 
 injudicious friends, till she becomes inflated by vanity aad 
 exalted by pride. She wanders idly, without aim or goal, in 
 the flowery paths of poesy, forgetful of the great highway of 
 knowledge, not made alone for the chariot wheels of kings, but 
 the feet of the humblest wayfarer." 
 
 When he began to address me, he remembered that I was a 
 child, but before he finished the sentence he forgot my age, and 
 his thoughts and language swelled and rose to the comprehension 
 of manhood. But I understood him. Perhaps there was 
 something in my fixed and fascinated glance that made him 
 conscious of my full appreciation. 
 
 " I have no friends to praise and flatter me," I simply 
 answered. " I have loved to sing in rhyme as the little birds^} 
 sing, because God gave me the power." 
 
 He looked pleased. He even laid his hand on my head and 
 smiled. Not the cold smile of yesterday, but quite a genial 
 smile. I could hardly believe it the same face, it softened and 
 transformed it so. I involuntarily drew nearer to him, drawn 
 by that powerful magnetism, which every human heart feels 
 more or less. 
 
 The great brazen tongue of the town clock rang discordantly 
 on the sweet stillness of the morning hour. The master rose 
 and motioned me to follow him. 
 
 " Richard Clyde is forgiven. Tell him so. Let the past be 
 forgotten, or remembered only to make us wiser and better." 
 
 We entered the academy together, to the astonishment of 
 
28 ERNESTL1NWOOD. 
 
 the pupils, who were gathered in little clusters, probably dis 
 cussing the events of yesterday. 
 
 Richard Clyde was not there, but he came the next day, and 
 the scene in which we were both such conspicuous actors was 
 soon forgotten. It had, however, an abiding influence on me. 
 A new motive for exertion was born within me, affection for 
 my master, and the consequence was, ambition to excel, 
 that I might be rewarded by his approbation. 
 
 Did he ever again treat me with harshness arid severity ? 
 No, never. I have often wondered why he manifested such 
 unusual and wanton disregard of my feelings then, that one, 
 only time. It is no matter now. It is a single blot on a fair 
 page. 
 
 Manjs_aj3tran.gelj: inconsistent being. His soul is the battle 
 ground of the warring angels of .good and evil. As one or the 
 other triumphs, he exhibits the passions of a demon or the 
 attributes of a God. 
 
 Could we see this hidden war field, would it not be grand ? 
 What were the plains of Marathon, the pass of Thermopylae, 
 or Cannae paved with golden rings, compared to it ? 
 
 Let us for a moment imagine the scene. Not the moment 
 of struggle, but the pause that succeeds. The angels of good 
 have triumphed, and though the plumage of their Avings may 
 droop, they are white and dazzling so as no " fuller of earth 
 could whiten them." The moonlight of peace rests upon the 
 battle field, where evil passions lie wounded and trampled under 
 feet. Strains of victorious music float in the air ; but it comes 
 from those who have triumphed in the conflict and entered into 
 rest, those who behold the conflict from afar. It is so still, 
 that one can almost hear the trees of Paradise rustle in the 
 ambrosial gales of heaven. 
 
 Is this poetry ? Is it sacrilege ? If so, forgive me, thou great 
 Inspirer of thoug it, "my spirit would fain not wander from 
 thee." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE life of a school-girl presents but few salient points to 
 arrest the interest. It is true, every day had its history, and 
 every rising and setting sun found something added to the 
 volume of my life. But there seerns so little to describe ! I 
 could go on for ever, giving utterance to thoughts that used to 
 crowd in my young brain, thoughts that would startle as well as 
 amuse, but I fear they might become monotonous to the 
 reader. 
 
 I had become a hard student. My mother wished me to fit 
 myself for a teacher. It was enough. 
 
 It was not, however, without man^_struggles. I had ac 
 quired this submission to her wishes. Must! forever be a 
 slave to hours ? Must I weave for others the chain whose daily 
 restraint chafed and galled my free, impatient spirit ? Must I 
 bear the awful burden of authority, that unlovely appendage to 
 youth ? Must I voluntarily assume duties to which the task of 
 the criminal that tramps, tramps day after day the revolving 
 tread-mill, seems light ; for that is mere physical labor and mo 
 notony, not the wear and tear of mind, heart, and soul ? 
 
 " What else can you do, my child ? " asked my mother. 
 
 " I could sew." 
 
 My mother smiled and shook her head. 
 
 " Your skill does not lie in handicraft," she said, " that 
 would never do." 
 
 " I could toil as a servant. I would far rather do it." 
 
 I had worked myself up to a belief in my own sincerity when 
 I said this, but had any tongue but mine suggested the idea, 
 how would my aspiring blood have burned with indignation. 
 
 " It is the most honorable path to independence a friendless 
 
 3 * (29) 
 
30 E tt N E S T LIN W O O I) . 
 
 young girl can choose, almost the only one," said ray mother, 
 suppressing a deep sigh. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! I am not friendless. How can I be, with you 
 and Peggy ? " 
 
 " But we are not immortal, my child. Every day loosens 
 my frail hold of earthly things, and even Peggy s strong arm 
 will in time grow weak. Your young strength will then be her 
 stay and support." 
 
 "Oh, mother! as if -I could live when you are taken from 
 me ! What do I live for, but you ? What have I on earth 
 but thee ? Other children have father and mother, and brothers 
 and sisters, and friends. If one is taken from them, they have 
 others left to love and care for them, but I have nobody in the 
 wide world but you. I could not, would not live without you." 
 
 I spoke with passionate earnestness. Life without my 
 mother ! The very thought was death ! I looked in her pale, 
 beautiful face. It was more than pale, it was wan it was 
 sickly. There was a purplish shadow under her soft, dark eyes, 
 which I had not observed before, and her figure looked thin and 
 drooping. I gazed into the sad, loving depths of her eyes, till 
 mine were blinded with tears, when throwing my arms across 
 her lap, I laid my face upon them, and wept and sobbed as if 
 the doom of the motherless were already mine. 
 
 " Grief does not kill, my Gabriella," she said, tenderly 
 caressing me. " It is astonishing how much the human heart 
 can bear without breaking. Sorrow may dry up, drop by drop, 
 the fountain of life, but it is generally the work of years. The 
 heart lives, though every source of joy be dead, lives with 
 out one wellspring of happiness to quench its burning thirst, 
 lives in the midst of desolation, darkness, and despair. 01), 
 my Gabriella," she continued, with a burst of feeling that swept 
 over her with irresistible power, and bowed her as before a 
 stormy gust, " would to God that we might die together, that 
 the same almighty mandate would free us both from this 
 prison-house of sorrow and of sin. . I have prayed for resigna 
 tion, I have prayed for faith ; but, O my God ! I am rebel 
 lious, I am weak, I have suffered and struggled so long." 
 
E R X E S T I. I N W O O D . 31 
 
 She spoke in a tone of physical as well as mental agony. I 
 was looking up in her face, and it seemed as if a dark shadow 
 rolled over it. I sprang to my feet and screamed. Peggy, who 
 was already on the threshold, caught her as she fell forward, 
 and laid her on the bed as if she were a little child. She was 
 in a fainting fit. I had seen her before in these deathlike 
 swoons, but never had I watched with such shuddering dread to 
 see the dawn of awakening life break upon her face. I stood 
 at her pillow scarcely less pale and cold than herself. 
 
 " This is all your doings, Miss Gabriella," muttered 
 Peggy, while busily engaged in the task of restoration. " If 
 you don t want to kill your mother, you must keep out of 
 your tantrums. What s the use of going on so, I wonder, 
 and what s the use of my watching her as carefully as if she 
 was made of gla-s, when you come like a young hurricane and 
 break her into atoms. There, go away and keep quiet. Let 
 her be till she gets over this turn. I know exactly what s best 
 for her." 
 
 She spoke with authority, and I obeyed as if the voice of a 
 superior were addressing me. I obeyed, but not till I had 
 seen the hue of returning life steal over the marble pallor of 
 her cheek. I wandered into the garden, but the narrow paths, 
 the precise formed beds, the homely aspect of vegetable nature, 
 filled me with a strange loathing. I felt suffocated, oppressed, 
 I jumped over the railing and plunged into the woods, the 
 wild, ample woods, my home, my wealth, my God- 
 granted inheritance. I sat down under the oaks, and fixed my 
 eyes upwards on the mighty dome that seemed resting on the 
 strong forest trees. I heard nothing but the soft rustling of 
 the leaves, I saw nothing but the lonely magnificence of 
 nature. 
 
 Here I became calm. It seemed a matter of perfect indiffer 
 ence to me then what I did, or what became of me, whether 
 I was henceforth to be a teacher, a seamstress, or a servant. 
 Every consideration was swallowed in one, every fear lost in 
 one absorbing dread. I had but one prayer, " Let my mother 
 live, or let me die with her ! " 
 
32 E K NEST L 1 N W O O D , 
 
 Poverty offered no privation, toil no weariness, suffering no 
 pang, compared to the one great evil which my imagination 
 grasped with firm and desperate clench. 
 
 Three years had passed since I had lain a weeping child 
 under the shadow of the oaks, smarting from the lash of de 
 rision, burning with shame, shrinking with humiliation. I was 
 now fifteen years old, at that age when youth turns trembling 
 from the dizzy verge of childhood to a mother s guardian 
 arms, a mother s sheltering heart. How weak, how puerile 
 now seemed the emotions, which three years ago had worn such 
 a majestic semblance. 
 
 I was but a foolish child then, what was I now ? A 
 child still, but somewhat wiser, not more worldly wise. I 
 knew no more of the world, of what is called the world, than I 
 did of those golden cities seen through the cloud-vistas of sun 
 set. It seemed as grand, as remote, and as inaccessible. 
 
 At this moment I turned my gaze towards the distant cloud- 
 turrets gleaming above, walls on which chariots and horsemen 
 of fire seemed passing and repassing, and I was conscious of but 
 one deep, earnest thought, " my mother ! " 
 
 One prayer, sole and agonizing, trembled on my lips : 
 
 " Take her not from me, O my God ! I will drink the cup 
 / lof poverty and humiliation to the dregs if thou wilt, without a 
 .murmur, but spare, O spare my mother ! " 
 
 God did spare her for a little while. The dark hands on the 
 dial-plate of destiny once moved back at the mighty breath of 
 prayer. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " GABRIELLA, is it you ? How glad I am to see you ! " 
 That clear, distinct, ringing voice ! I knew it well, though 
 a year had passed since I had heard its sound. The three 
 years which made me, as I said before, a wiser child, had ma 
 tured my champion, the boy of fifteen, into a youth of eighteen, 
 a collegian of great promise and signal endowments. I felt 
 very sorry when he left the academy, for he had been my 
 steadfast friend and defender, and a great assistant in my 
 scholar ic tasks. But after he entered a college, I felt as if 
 there were a great gulf between us, never more to be passed 
 over. I had very superb ideas of collegians. I had seen 
 them during their holidays, which they frequently came into 
 the country to spend, dashing through the streets like the wild 
 huntsmen, on horses that struck fire as they flew along. I had 
 seen them lounging in the streets, with long, wild hair, and 
 corsair visages and Byronian collars, and imagined them a 
 most formidable race of beings. I did not know that these 
 were the scape-goats of their class, suspended for rebellion, or 
 expelled for greater offences, that having lost their character 
 as students, they were resolved to distinguish themselves as 
 dandies, the lowest ambition a son of Adam s race can feel. It 
 rs true, I did not dream that Richard Clyde could be trans 
 formed into their image, but I thought some marvellous change 
 must take place, which would henceforth render him as much a 
 stranger to me as though we had never met. 
 
 Now, when I heard the clear, glad accents of his voice, so 
 natural, so unchanged, I looked up with a glance of delighted 
 recognition into the young student s manly face. My first sen 
 
 (33) 
 
34 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 sation was pleasure, the pleasure which congenial youth in 
 spires, my next shame, for the homeliness of my occupation, 
 I was standing by a beautiful bubbling spring, at the foot of a 
 little hill near my mother s cottage. The welling spring, the 
 rock over which it gushed, the trees which bent their branches 
 over the fountain to guard it from the sunbeams, the sweet mu 
 sic of the falling waters, all these were romantic and pictu 
 resque. I might imagine myself" a nymph, a naiad, or a grace. 
 Or, had I carried a pitcher in my hand, I might have though! 
 myself another Rebecca, and poised on my shoulder the no! 
 ungraceful burden. But I was dipping water from the spring, 
 in a tin pail, of a broad, clumsy, unclassic form, too heavy 
 for the shoulder, and extremely difficult to carry in the 
 hand, in consequence of the small, wiry handle. In my confu 
 sion I dropped the pail, which went gaily floating to the opposite 
 side of the spring, entirely out of my reach. The strong, bub 
 bling current bore it upward, and it danced and sparkled and 
 turned its sides of mimic silver, first one way and then the other, 
 as if rejoicing in its liberty. 
 
 Richard laughed, his old merry laugh, and jumping on the 
 rock over which the waters were leaping, caught the pail, and 
 waved it as a trophy over his head. Then stooping down he 
 filled it to the brim, gave one spring to the spot where I stood, 
 whirled the bucket upside down and set it down on the grass 
 without spilling a drop. 
 
 " That is too large and heavy for you to carry, Gabriclla," 
 said he. " Look at the palm of your hand, there is quite a red 
 groove there made by that iron handle." 
 
 " Never mind," I answered, twisting my handkerchief care 
 lessly round the tingling palm, " I must get used to it. Peggy 
 is sick and there is no one to carry water now but myself. 
 When she is well, she will never let me do any thing of the 
 kind." 
 
 " You should not," said he, decidedly. " You are not strong 
 enough, you must get another servant. I will inquire in the 
 village myself this morning, and send you one." 
 
 " O no, my mother would never consent to a stranger coming 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 35 
 
 into the family. Besides, no one could take Peggy s place. 
 She is less a servant than a friend." 
 
 I turned away to hide the tears that I could not keep back. 
 Peggy s illness, though not of an alarming character, showed that 
 even her iron constitution was not exempt from the ills which 
 flesh is heir to, that the strong pillar on which we leaned so 
 trustingly could vibrate and shake, and what would become of 
 us if it were prostrated to the earth ; the lonely column of 
 fidelity and truth, to which we clung so adhesively ; the sheet 
 anchor which had kept us from sinking beneath the waves of 
 adversity ? I had scarcely realized Peggy s mortality before, 
 she seemed so strong, so energetic, so untiring. I would as 
 soon have thought of the sun s being weary in its mighty task 
 as of Peggy s strong arm waxing w r eak. I felt very sad, and 
 the meeting with Richard Clyde, which had excited a momen 
 tary joy, now deepened my sadness. He looked so bright, so 
 prosperous, so full of hope and life. He was no longer the 
 school-boy whom I could meet on equal terms, but the student 
 entered on a public career of honor and distinction, the son of 
 ambition, whose gaze was already fixed on the distant hill-tops 
 of fame. There was nothing in his countenance or manner 
 that gave this impression, but my own morbid sensitiveness. 
 The dawning feelings of womanhood made me blush for the 
 plainness and childishness of my dress, and then I was ashamed 
 of my shame, and blushed the more deeply. 
 
 " I am glad to see you again," I said, stooping to raise my 
 brimming pail, "I suppose I must not call you Richard 
 now 7 ." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I hope and trust none of my old friends will 
 begin to Mr. Clyde me for a long time to come, and least, I 
 mean most of all, you, Gabriella. We were always such ex 
 ceedingly good friends, you know. But don t be in such a 
 hurry, I have a thousand questions to ask, a thousand things 
 to tell." 
 
 " I should love to hear them all, Richard, but I cannot keep 
 my mother waiting." 
 
 Before I could get hold of the handle of the pail, he had 
 
Ot> ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 seized it and was swinging it along with as much ease as if he 
 had a bunch of roses in his hand. We ascended the little hill 
 together, he talking all the time, in a spirited, joyous manner, 
 laughing at his awkwardness as he stumbled against a rolling 
 stone, wishing he was a school-boy again in the old academy, 
 whose golden vane was once an object of such awe and admo 
 nition in his eyes. 
 
 " By the way, Gabriella," he asked, changing from subject 
 to subject with marvellous rapidity, " do you ever write poetry 
 now ? " 
 
 " I have given that up, as one of the follies of my childhood, 
 one of the dreams of my youth." 
 
 " Really, you must be a very venerable person, you talk 
 of the youthful follies you have discarded, the dreams from 
 which you have awakened, as if you were a real centenarian. 
 I wonder if there are not some incipient wrinkles on your 
 face." 
 
 He looked at me earnestly, saucily ; and I involuntarily put 
 up my hands, as if to hide the traces of care his imagination 
 was drawing. 
 
 " I really do feel old sometimes," said I, smiling at the mock 
 scrutiny of his gaze, " and it is well I do. You know I am 
 going to be a teacher, and youth will be my greatest objection." 
 
 " No, no, I do not want you to be a teacher. You were 
 not born for one. You will not be happy as one, you are 
 too impulsive, too sensitive, too poetic in your temperament. 
 You are the last person in the world who ought to think of such 
 a vocation." 
 
 " Would you advise me, then, to be a hewer of wood and a 
 drawer of water, in preference ? " 
 
 " I would advise you to continue your studies, to read, write 
 poetry, ramble about the woods and commune with nature, as 
 you so love to do, and not think of assuming the duties of a 
 woman, while you are yet nothing but a child. Oh ! it is the 
 most melancholy thing in the world to me, to see a person try 
 ing to get beyond their years. You must not do it, Gabriella. 
 I wish I could make you stop thinking for one year. I dp not 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 37 
 
 like to see a cheek as young as yours pale with overmuch 
 thought. Do you know you are getting very like your mother ? " 
 
 " My mother ! " I exclaimed, with a glow of pleasure at the 
 fancied resemblance, " why, she is the most beautiful person I 
 have yet seen, there is, there can be no likeness." 
 
 " But there is, though. You speak as if you thought your 
 self quite ugly. I wonder if you do. Ugly and old. Strange 
 self-estimation for a pretty girl of fifteen ! " 
 
 " I suppose you learn to flatter in college," said I, " but I do 
 not care about being flattered, I assure you." 
 
 u You are very much mistaken if you think I am trying to 
 flatter you. I may do so a year or two hence if I chance to 
 meet you in company, but here, in this rural solitude, with the 
 very element of truth in my hand, I could not deceive, if I 
 were the most accomplished courtier in the world." 
 
 We had reached the top of the green acclivity which we 
 had been ascending, I fear with somewhat tardy steps. AVe 
 could see the road through an opening in the trees, a road 
 little travelled, but leading to the central street of the town. 
 The unusual sound of carriage wheels made me turn my head in 
 that direction, and a simultaneous exclamation of Richard s 
 fixed my attention. 
 
 A very elegant carriage, drawn by a pair of large shining 
 bay horses was rolling along with aristocratic slowness. The 
 silver-plated harness glittered so in the sun, it at first dazzled 
 my eyes, so that I could discern nothing distinctly. Then I 
 saw the figures of two ladies seated on the back seat in light, 
 airy dresses, and of two gentlemen on horseback, riding be 
 hind. I had but a glimpse of all this, for the carriage rolled 
 on. The riders disappeared ; but, as a flash of lightning reveals 
 to us glimpses of the cloud cities of heaven which we remem 
 ber long after the electric gates are closed, so the vision 
 remained on my memory, and had I never again beheld the 
 youthful form nearest to us, I should remember it still. It 
 was that of a young girl, with very fair flaxen hair, curling in 
 profuse ringlets on each side of her face, which was exquisite 
 ly fair, and lighted up with a soft rosiness like the dawning of 
 
 4 
 
38 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 morning. A blue scarf, of the color of her eyes, floated over 
 her shoulders and fluttered from the window of the carriage. 
 As I gazed on this bright apparition, Richard, to my astonish 
 ment, lifted his hat from his brow and bowed low to the smiling 
 stranger, who returned the salutation with graceful ease. The 
 lady on the opposite side was hidden by the fair-haired girl, and 
 both were soon hidden by the thick branches that curtained the 
 road. 
 
 " TheJLinwQods ! " said Richard, glancing merrily at the tin 
 pail, which shone so conspicuously bright in the sunshine. 
 " You must have heard of them ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Not heard of the new-comers ! Hav n t you heard that 
 Mrs. Linwood has purchased the famous old Grandison Place, 
 that has stood so long in solitary grandeur, had it fitted up in 
 modern style, and taken possession of it for a country residence ? 
 Is it possible that you are such a little nun, that you have 
 heard nothing of this ? " 
 
 " I go nowhere ; no one comes to see us ; I might as well 
 be a nun." 
 
 "But at school?" 
 
 " I have not been since last autumn. But that fair, beautiful 
 young lady, is she a daughter of Mrs. Linwood ? " 
 
 " She is, Edith Linwood. Rather a romantic name, is 
 it not ? Do you think her beautiful ? " 
 
 " The loveliest creature I ever looked upon. I should be 
 quite, miserable if I thought I never should look upon her 
 again. And you know her, she bowed to you. How sorry 
 I am she should see you performing such an humble office for a 
 little rustic like me ! " 
 
 " She will think none the worse of me for it. If she did, I 
 should despise her. But she is no heartless belle, Edith Lin 
 wood is not. She is an angel of goodness and sweetness, if all 
 they say of her be true. I do not know her very well. She 
 has a brother with whom I am slightly acquainted, and through 
 him I have been introduced into the family. Mrs. Linwood is 
 a noble, excellent woman, I wish you knew her. I wish you 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 39 
 
 knew Edith, I wish you knew them all. They would appre- 
 ciate you. I am sure they would." 
 
 " / know them ! " I exclaimed, glancing at our lowly cottage, 
 my simple dress, and contrasting them mentally with the lordly 
 dwelling and costly apparel of these favorites of nature and of 
 fortune. " They appreciate me ! " 
 
 " I suppose you think Edith Linwood the most enviable of 
 human beings. Rich, lovely, with the power of gratifying every 
 wish, and of dispensing every good, she would gladly ex 
 change this moment with you, and dip water from yon bubbling 
 spring." 
 
 " Impossible ! " I cried. " How can she help being happy ? " 
 
 " She does seem happy, but she is lame, and her health is 
 very delicate. She cannot walk one step without crutches, on 
 which she swings herself along very lightly and gracefully, it is 
 true ; but think you not she would not give all her wealth to 
 be able to walk with your bounding steps, and have your elastic 
 frame ? " 
 
 " Crutches ! " said I, sorrowfully, " why she looked as if she 
 might have wings on her shoulders. It is sad." 
 
 " She is not an object of pity. You will not think she is 
 when you know her. I only wanted to convince you, that you 
 might be an object of envy to one who seems so enviable to 
 you." 
 
 I would gladly have lingered where I was, within the sound 
 of Richard Clyde s frank and cheerful voice, but I thought of 
 poor Peggy thirsting for a cooling draught, and my conscience 
 smote me for being a laggard in my duty. It is true, the scene, 
 which may seem long in description, passed in a very brief 
 space of time, and though Richard said a good many things, he 
 talked very fast, without seeming hurried either. 
 
 " I shall see you again at the spring," said he, as he turned 
 from the gate. " You must consider me as the Aquarius of 
 your domestic Zodiac. I should like to be my father s camel- 
 driver, if that were Jacob s well." 
 
 I could not help smiling at his gay nonsense, his presence 
 had been so brightening, so comforting. I had gone down to 
 
40 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 the spring sad and desponding. I returned with a countenance 
 so lighted up, a color so heightened, that my mother looked at 
 me with surprise. 
 
 As soon as I had ministered to Peggy, who seemed mortified 
 and ashamed because of her sickness, and distressed beyond 
 measure at being waited upon. I told my mother of my inter 
 view with Richard, of his kindness in carrying the water, the 
 vision of the splendid carriage, of its beautiful occupants, the 
 fitting up of the old Grandison Place, and all that Richard had 
 related to me. 
 
 She listened with a troubled countenance. " Surely, young 
 Clyde will not be so inconsiderate, so ofRcious, as to induce 
 those ladies to visit us ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, mother. He is not officious. He knows you 
 would not like to see them. He would not think of such a 
 thing." 
 
 " No, no," I repeated to myself, as I exerted myself bravely 
 in my new offices, as nurse and housekeeper, " there is no dan 
 ger of that fair creature seeking out this little obscure spot. 
 She will probably ask Richard Clyde who the little country 
 girl was, whose water-pail he was so gallantly carrying, and I 
 know he will speak kindly of me, though he will laugh at being 
 caught in such an awkward predicament. Perhaps to amuse 
 her, he will tell her of my flight from the academy and the 
 scenes which resulted, and she will ask him to show her the 
 poem, rendered so immortal. Then merrily will her silver 
 laughter ring through the lofty hall. I have wandered all over 
 Grandison Place when it was a deserted mansion. No one saw 
 me, for it is far back from the street, all embosomed in shade, 
 and it reminded me of sonic old castle with its turreted roof 
 and winding galleries. I wonder how it looks now." I was 
 falling into one of my old-fashioned dreams, when a moan from 
 Peggy wakened me, and I sprang to her bedside with re 
 newed alarm. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 YES, Peggy was very sick ; but she would not acknowledge 
 it. It was nothing but a violent headache, a sudden cold ; 
 she would be up and doing in the morning. The doctor! 
 No, indeed, she would have nothing to do with doctors. She 
 had never taken a dose of medicine in her life, and never would, 
 of her own freewill. Sage tea was worth all the pills and 
 nostrums in the world. On the faith of her repeated assertions, 
 that she felt a great deal better and would be quite well in the 
 morning, we slept, my mother and myself, leaving the lamp 
 dimly burning by the solemn hour-glass. 
 
 About midnight we were awakened by the wild ravings of 
 delirious agony, those sounds so fearful in themselves, so 
 awful in the silence and darkness of night, so indescribably 
 awful in the solitude of our lonely dwelling. 
 
 Peggy had struggled with disease like " the strong man pre 
 pared to run a race," but it had now seized her with giant 
 grasp, and she lay helpless and writhing, with the fiery fluid 
 burning in her veins, sending dark, red flashes to her cheeks 
 and brow. Her eyes had a fierce, lurid glare, and she tossed 
 her head from side to side on the pillow with the wild restless 
 ness of an imprisoned animal. 
 
 " Good God ! " cried my mother, looking as white as the 
 sheets, and trembling all over as in an ague-fit. " What shall 
 we do ? She will die unless a doctor can see her. Oh, my 
 child, what can we do ? It is dreadful to be alone in the woods, 
 when sickness and death are in the house." 
 
 " / will go for the doctor, mother, if you are not afraid to stay 
 4* (41) 
 
42 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 alone with Peggy," cried I, in hurried accents, wrapping a 
 shawl round me as I spoke. 
 
 My mother wrung her hands. 
 
 " Oh ! this is terrible," she exclaimed. " How dim and dark 
 it looks abroad. I cannot let you go alone, at midnight. It 
 cannot I>e less than a mile to Dr. Harlowe s. No, no ; I can 
 not let you go." 
 
 " And Peggy must die, then. SJie must die who has served 
 us so faithfully, and lived alone for us ! Oh, mother, let rne go 
 I will fly on the wings of the wind. You will hardly miss me 
 before I return. I am not afraid of the darkness. I am not 
 afraid of the lonely woods. I only fear leaving you alone with 
 her." 
 
 " Go," said my mother, in a faint voice. " God will protect 
 you. I feel that He will, my good, brave Gabriella." 
 
 I kissed her whitp ;heek with passionate tenderness, cast a 
 glance of anguish on Peggy s fearfully altered face, then ran 
 out into the chill, dark midnight. At first I could scarcely dis 
 cern the sandy path I had so often trodden, for no moon lighted 
 up the gloom of the hour, and even the stars glimmered faintly 
 through a grey and cloudy atmosphere. As I hurried along, 
 the wind came sighing through the trees with such inexpressible 
 sadness, it seemed whispering mournfully of the dark secrets of 
 nature. Then it deepened into a dull, roaring sound, like the 
 murmurs of the ocean tide ; but even as I went on the melan 
 choly wind pursued me like an invisible spirit, winding around 
 me its chill, embracing arms. 
 
 I seemed the only living thing in the cold, illimitable night. 
 A thick horror brooded over me. The sky was a mighty pall, 
 sweeping down with heavy cloud-fringes, the earth a wide 
 grave. I did not fear, that is, I feared not man, or beast, or 
 ghost, but an unspeakable awe and dread was upon me. I 
 dreaded the great God, whose presence filled with insupportable 
 grandeur the lonely night. My heart was hard as granite. I 
 could not have prayed, had I known that Peggy s life would be 
 given in answer to my prayer. I could not say, " Our Father, 
 who art in heaven," as I had so often done at my mother s knee, 
 
ERNEST LIN W 00 1>. 43 
 
 in the sweet, childlike spirit of filial love and submission. __My 
 JT ;] 1 1 H * r ^Jai^^iadJuddgii^ an d behind the thick clouds of dark- 
 ne>- I saw a stern, vindictive Being, to whom the smoke of 
 human suffering was more acceptable than frankincense and 
 myrrh. 
 
 I compared myself wandering alone in darkness and sorrow, 
 on such an awful errand, to the fair, smiling being cradled in 
 wealth, then doubtless sleeping in her bed of down, watched by 
 attending menials. _Oh [ rebel ._Jliat_IjyjHLS^jdid I -not need the 
 chastening discipline, never exerted but in wisdom and in love? 
 
 Before I knew it, I was at Dr. Harlowe s door. All was 
 dark and still. The house was of brick, and it loomed up 
 gloriously as I approached. It seemed to frown repulsively 
 with its beetling eaves, as I lifted the knocker and let it fall with 
 startling force. In a moment I heard footsteps moving and saw 
 a light glimmering through the blinds. He was at home, then, 
 I had accomplished my mission. It was no matter if I died, 
 since Peggy might be saved. I really thought I was going to 
 die, I felt so dull and faint and breathless. I sunk down on the 
 stone steps, just as the door was opened by Dr. Harlowe him 
 self, whom I had seen, but never addressed before. Placing 
 his left hand above his eyes, he looked out, in search of the mes 
 senger who had roused him from his slumber. I tried to rise, 
 but was too much exhausted. I could scarcely make my 
 errand understood. I had run a mile without stopping, and 
 now I had stopped, my limbs seemed turned into lead and my 
 head to ice. 
 
 " My poor child ! " said the doctor, in the kindest manner 
 imaginable. " You should not have come yourself at this hour. 
 It was hardly safe. Why, you have run yourself completely 
 out of breath. Come in, while they are putting my horse in 
 the buggy. I must give you some medicine before we start." 
 
 He stooped down and almost lifted me from the step where 
 I was seated, and led me into what appeared to me quite a 
 sumptuous apartment, being handsomely carpeted and having 
 Ions crimson curtains to the windows. He made me sit down 
 
44 E R NEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 on a sofa, while he went to a closet, and pouring out a generous 
 glass of wine, insisted upon my drinking it. I obeyed him 
 mechanically, for life seemed glowing in the ruddy fluid. It 
 was. It came back in warmth to my chilled and sinking heart. 
 I felt it stealing like a gentle fire through my whole system, 
 burning gently, steadily on my cheek, and kindling into light 
 my heavy and tear-dimmed eyes. It was the first glass I had 
 ever tasted, and it ran like electricity through my veins. Had 
 the doctor been aware of my previous abstinence, he might not 
 have thought it safe to have offered me the brimming glass. 
 Had I reflected one moment I should have swallowed it less 
 eagerly ; but I seemed sinking, sinking into annihilation, when 
 its reviving warmth restored me. I felt as if I had wings, and 
 could fly over the dreary space my weary feet had so lately 
 overcome. 
 
 " You feel better, my dear," said the doctor, with a benevo 
 lent smile, as he watched the effect of his prescription. " You 
 must not make so dangerous an experiment again as running 
 such a distance at this time of night. Peggy s life is very 
 precious, I dare say, and so is yours. Are you ready to 
 ride ? My buggy is not very large, but I think it will accom 
 modate us both. We will see." 
 
 Though it was the first time I had ever spoken with Dr. 
 Harlowe, I felt as much confidence in his kindness and benevo 
 lence as if I had known him for years. There was something 
 so frank and genial about him, he seemed, like the wine I had 
 been quaffing, warming to the heart. There w r as barely room 
 for me, slender as I was, for the carriage was constructed for 
 the accommodation of the doctor alone ; but I did not feel 
 embarrassed, or as if I were intruding. He drove very rapidly, 
 conversing the whole time in a pleasant, cheering voice. 
 
 " Peggy must be a very valuable person," he said, " for you 
 to venture out so bravely in her cause. We must cure her, by 
 all means." 
 
 I expatiated on her virtues with all the eloquence of gratitude. 
 Something must have emboldened my shy tongue, some- 
 
ER NEST L IX WOOD. 45 
 
 thing more than the hope, born of the doctor s heart-reviving 
 word-;. 
 
 lie is conic 1 he is come," I exclaimed, springing from the 
 buggy to the threshold, with the quickness of lightning. 
 
 Oh ! how dim and sickly and sad every thing appeared in 
 that little chamber ! I turned and looked at the doctor, won 
 dering if he had ever entered one so sad before. Peggy lay in 
 an uneasy slumber, her arms thrown above her head, in a wild, 
 uncomfortable attitude. My mother sat leaning against the 
 head of the bed, pale and statue-like, with her hand, white as 
 marble, partly hidden in her dark and loosely braided hair. 
 The doctor glanced at the bed, then at my mother, and his 
 glance riveted on her. Surprise warmed into admiration, 
 admiration stood checked by reverence. He advanced a few 
 steps into the room, and made her as lowly a bow as if she 
 were an empress. She rose without speaking and motioned 
 me to hand him a chair; but waiving the offered civility, he 
 went up to the side of the bed and laid his fingers quietly on the 
 pulse of his patient. He stood gravely counting the ticking of 
 life s great chronometer, while my mother leaned forward with 
 pale, parted lips, and I gazed upon him as if the issues of life 
 and death were in his hands. 
 
 " I wish I had been called sooner," said he, with a slight 
 contraction of the brows, " but we will do all we can to relieve 
 her." 
 
 lie called for a basin and linen bandage, and taking a lancet 
 from his pocket, held up the sharp, gleaming point to the light. 
 I .shuddered, I had never seen any one bled, and it seemed to 
 me an awful operation. 
 
 ( You will hold the basin," said he, directing me with his 
 calm, benignant eye. " lLau_are ji brave.. girl, you will not 
 shrink, as some foolish persons do, at the sight of blood. This 
 side, if you please, my dear." 
 
 Ashamed to forfeit the. confidence he had in my bravery, or 
 rather moral courage, I grasped the basin with both hands, and 
 held it firm, though my lips quivered and my cheek blanched. 
 
 Peggy, awakened by the pressure of the bandage, began to 
 
46 ERNESTLINWOOD. 
 
 rave and struggle, and I feared it would be impossible to subdue 
 her into sufficient quietness ; but delirious as she was, there 
 was something in the calm, authoritative tones of Dr. Harlowe s 
 voice, that seemed irresistible. She became still, and lay with 
 her half-closed eyes fixed magnetically on his face. As the 
 dark-red blood spouted into the basin, I started, and would 
 have recoiled had not a strong controlling influence been ex 
 erted over me. The gates of life were opened. How easy 
 for life itself to pass away in that deep crimson tide ! 
 
 " This is the poetry of our profession," said the doctor, bind 
 ing up the wound with all a woman s gentleness. 
 
 Poor Peggy, who could ever associate the idea of poetry with 
 her ! I could not help smiling as I looked at her sturdy arm, 
 through whose opaque surface the blue wandering of the veins 
 was vainly sought. 
 
 " And now," said he, after giving her a comforting draught, 
 " she will sleep, and you must sleep, madam," turning respect 
 fully to my mother ; " you have not strength enough to resist 
 fatigue, your daughter will have two to nurse instead of one, 
 if you do not follow my advice." 
 
 " I cannot sleep," replied my mother. 
 
 " But you can rest, madam ; it is your duty. What did I 
 come here for, but to relieve your cares ? Go with your 
 mother, my dear, and after a while you may come back and 
 help me." 
 
 " You are very kind, sir," she answered. With a graceful 
 bend of the head she passed from the room, while his eyes fol 
 lowed her with an expression of intense interest. 
 
 It is no wonder. Even I, accustomed as I was to watch her 
 every motion, was struck by the exceeding grace of her manner. 
 She did not ask the doctor what he thought of Peggy, though 
 I saw the words trembling on her lips. She dared not do it. 
 
 From that night the seclusion of our cottage home was broken 
 up. Disease had entered and swept clown the barriers of cir 
 cumstance curiosity had so long respected. We felt the draw 
 ings of that golden chain of sympathy which binds together the 
 great family of mankind. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 47 
 
 Peggy s disease was a fever, of a peculiar and malignant 
 character. It was the first case which occurred ; but it spread 
 through the town, so that scarcely a family was exempt from 
 its ravages. Several died after a few days sickness, and it was 
 said purplish spots appeared after death, making ghostly con 
 trast with its livid pallor. The alarm and terror of the com 
 munity rendered it difficult to obtain nurses for the sick; but, 
 thanks to the benevolent exertions of Dr. Harlowe, we were 
 never left alone. 
 
 Richard Clyde, too, came every day, and sometimes two or 
 three times a day to the spring, to know what he could do for 
 us. No brother could be kinder. Ah ! how brightly, how 
 vividly deeds of kindness stand out on the dark background of 
 sickness and sorrow ! I never, never can forget that era of 
 my existence, when the destroying angel seemed winnowing 
 the valley with Irs terrible wings, when human life was 
 blown away as chaff before a strong wind. Strange ! the sky 
 was as blue and benignant, the air as soft and serene, as if 
 health and joy were revelling in the green-wood shade. The 
 gentle rustling of the foliage, the sweet, glad warbling of the 
 birds, the silver sparkling of the streamlets, and the calm, 
 deep flowing of the distant river, all seemed in strange discord 
 ance with the throes of agony, the wail of sorrow, and the 
 knell of death. 
 
 It was the first time I had ever been brought face to face 
 with sickness and pain. The constitutional fainting fits of my 
 mother were indicative of weakness, and caused momentary ter 
 ror ; but how different to this mysterious, terrible malady, this 
 direct visitation from the Almighty ! Here we could trace no 
 second causes, no imprudence in diet, no exposure to the night 
 air, no predisposing influences. It came sudden and powerful 
 as the bolt of heaven. It came in sunshine and beauty, without 
 herald and warning, whispering in deep, thrilling accents : " Be 
 still, and know that I am God." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I DO not wish to dwell too long on this sad page of my young 
 life, but sad as it is, it is followed by another so dark, I know 
 not whether my trembling hand should attempt to unfold it. 
 Indeed, I fear I have commenced a task I had better have left 
 alone. I know, however, I have scenes to relate full of the 
 wildest romance, and that though what I have written may be 
 childish and commonplace, I have that to relate which will in 
 terest, if the development of life s deepest passions have power 
 to do so. 
 
 The history of a human heart! a _true_ history of that 
 mystery of mysteries! a description of that city of our God, 
 more magnificent than the streets of the New Jerusalem! This 
 is what I have commenced to write. I will go on. 
 
 For nine days Peggy wrestled with the destroying angel. 
 During that time, nineteen funerals had darkened the winding 
 avenue which led to the graveyard, and she who was first at 
 tacked lingered last. It was astonishing how my mother sus 
 tained herself during these days and nights of intense anxiety. 
 She seemed unconscious of fatigue, passive, enduring as the 
 marble statue she resembled. She ate nothing, she did not 
 sleep. I know not what supported her. Dr. Harlowe brought 
 her some of that generous wine which had infused such life 
 into my young veins, and forced her to swallow it, but it never 
 brought any color to her hueless cheeks. 
 
 On the morning of the ninth day, Peggy sunk into a death 
 like stupor. Her mind had wandered during all her sickness, 
 though most of the time she lay in a deep lethargy, from which 
 nothing could rouse her 
 
 (48) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 49 
 
 " Go down to the spring and breathe the fresh air," said the 
 doctor ; " there should be perfect quiet here, a few hours will 
 decide her fate." 
 
 I went down to the spring, where the twilight shades were 
 gathering. The air came with balmy freshness to my anxious, 
 feverish brow. I scooped up the cold water in the hollow of 
 my hand and bathed my face. I shook my hair over niy 
 shoulders, and dashed the water over every disordered tress. 
 I began to breathe more freely. The burning weight, the 
 oppression, the suffocation were passing away, but a dreary 
 sense of misery, of coming desolation remained. I sat down 
 on the long grass, and leaning my head on my clasped hands, 
 watched the drops as they fell from my dropping hair on the 
 mossy rock below. 
 
 " Is it not too damp for you here ? " 
 
 I knew Richard Clyde was by me, I heard his light foot 
 steps on the sward, but I did not look up. 
 
 " It is not as damp as the grave will be," I answered. 
 
 " Do n t talk so, Gabriella, do n t. I cannot bear to hear you. 
 This will be all over soon, and it will be to you like a dark and 
 troubled dream." 
 
 " Yes ; I know it will be all over soon. We shall all lie in 
 the churchyard together, Peggy, my mother, and I, and you 
 will plant a white rose over my mother s grave, will you not ? 
 Not over mine. No flowers have bloomed for me in life, it 
 would be nothing to place them over my sleeping dust." 
 
 " Gabriella ! You are excited, you are ill. Give me your 
 hand. I know you have a feverish pulse." 
 
 I laid my hand on his, with an involuntary motion. Though 
 it was moist with the drops that had been oozing over it, it had 
 a burning heat. He startled at its touch. 
 
 " You are ill, you are feverish ! " he cried. " The close 
 air of that little room has been killing you. I knew it would. 
 You should have gone to Mrs. Linwood s, you and your mother, 
 when she sent for you. Peggy would have been abundantly 
 cared for." 
 
 " What, leave her here to die ! her, sc good, so faithful, and 
 5 
 
50 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 affectionate, who would have died a thousand times over for us ! 
 Oh Richard, how can you speak of such a thing ! Peggy is 
 dying now, I know that she is. I never looked on death, but 
 I saw its shadow on her livid face. Why did Dr. Harlowe 
 send me away ? I am not afraid to see her die. Hark ! my 
 mother calls me." 
 
 I started up, but my head was dizzy, and I should have 
 fallen had not Richard put his arm around me. 
 
 " Poor girl," said he, " I wish I had a sister to be with and 
 comfort you. These are dark hours for us all, for we feel the 
 pressure of God Almighty s hand. I do not wonder that you 
 are crushed. You, so young and tender. But hear up, 
 Gabriella. The dayspring will yet dawn, and the shadows fly 
 away." 
 
 So he kept talking, soothingly, kindly, keeping me out in the 
 balminess and freshness of the evening, while the fever atmos 
 phere burned within. I knew not how long I sat. I knew not 
 when I returned to the house. I have forgotten that. But I 
 remember standing that night over a still, immovable form, on 
 whose pale, peaceful brow, those purplish spots, of which I had 
 heard in awful whispers, were distinctly visible. The tossing 
 arms were crossed reposingly over the pulseless bosom, the 
 restless limbs were rigid as stone. I remember seeing my 
 mother, whom they tried to lead into another chamber, my 
 mother, usually so calm and placid, throw herself wildly on that 
 humble, fever-blasted form, and cling to it in an agony of despair. 
 It was only by the exertion of main force that she was separated 
 from it and carried to her own apartment. There she fell into 
 one of those deadly fainting fits, from which the faithful, affec 
 tionate Peggy had so often brought her back to life. 
 
 Never shall I forget that awful night. The cold presence of 
 mortality in its most appalling form, the shadow of my mother s 
 doom that was rolling heavily down upon me with prophetic 
 darkness, the dismal preparations, the hurrying steps echoing so 
 drearily through the midnight gloom ;jthe_cold burden of life, 
 the mystery of death, the omnipotence of God, the unfathom- 
 ableness of Eternity, all pressed upon me with such a 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 51 
 
 crushing weight, my spirit gasped and fainted beneath the 
 burden. 
 
 One moment it seemed that worlds would not tempt me to 
 look again on that shrouded form, so majestic in its dread im 
 mobility, its cold, icy calmness, then drawn by an awful fas 
 cination, I would gaze and gaze as if my straining eyes could 
 penetrate the depths of that abyss, which no sounding line has 
 ever reached. 
 
 I saw her laid in her lowly grave. My mother, too, was 
 there. Dr. Harlowe did every thing but command her to re 
 main at home, but she would not stay behind. 
 
 " I would follow her to her last home," said she, " if I had to 
 walk barefoot over a path of thorns." 
 
 Only one sun rose on her unburied form, its setting rays 
 fell on a mound of freshly heaved sods, where a little while 
 before was a mournful cavity. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood sent her beautiful carriage to take us to the 
 churchyard. Slowly it rolled along behind the shadow of the 
 dark, flapping pall. Very few T beside ourselves were present, 
 so great a panic pervaded the community ; and very humble 
 was the position Peggy occupied in the world. People won 
 dered at the greatness of our grief, for she was only a servant. 
 They did not know all that she was to us, how could they ? 
 Even I dreamed not then of the magnitude of our obligations. 
 
 I never shall forget the countenance of my mother as she 
 sat leaning from the carriage windows, for she was too feeble to 
 stand during the burial, while I stood with Dr. Harlowe at the 
 head of the grave. The sun was just sinking behind the blue 
 undulation of the distant hills, and a mellow, golden lustre 
 calmly settled on the level plain around us. It lighted up her 
 pallid features with a kind of unearthly glow, similar to that 
 which rested on the marble monuments gleaming through the 
 weeping willows. Every thing looked as serene and lovely, 
 as green and rejoicing, as if there were no such things as sick 
 ness and death in the world. 
 
 My mother s eyes wandered slowly over the whole inclo- 
 sure, shut in by the plain white railing, edged with black, 
 
52 E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 
 
 gleamed on every gray stone, white slab, and green hillock, 
 rested a moment on me, then turned towards heaven, with such 
 an expression ! 
 
 " Not yet, my mother, oh, not yet ! " I cried aloud in an 
 agony that could not be repressed, clinging to Dr. Harlowe s 
 arm as if every earthly stay and friend were sliding from my 
 grasp. I knew the meaning of that mute, expressive glance. 
 She was measuring her own grave by the side of Peggy s clay 
 cold bed, she was commending her desolate orphan to the 
 Father of the fatherless, the God of the widow. She knew 
 she would soon be there, and I knew it too. And after the first 
 sharp pang, after the arrow of conviction fastened in my 
 heart, I pressed it there with a kind of stern, vindictive joy, 
 triumphing in my capacity of suffering. I wonder if any one 
 ever felt as I did, Ijwpnder if.any worm of the dust ever 
 writhed so impotently under the foot of .Almighty God"! ~ 
 
 kind and compassionate Father ! Now I know thou art 
 kind even in thy chastisements, merciful even in thy judgments, 
 by the bitter chalice I have drained, by all the waves and bil 
 lows that have gone over me, by anguish, humiliation, repent 
 ance, and prayer. Forgive, forgive! for I knew not what I 
 was doing ! 
 
 From that night my mother never left her bed. The fever 
 spared her, but she wilted like the grass beneath the scythe of 
 the mower. Gone was the unnatural excitement which had 
 sustained her the last nine days; severed the silver cord so 
 long dimmed by secret tears. 
 
 Thank heaven ! I was not doomed to see her tortured by 
 pain, or raving in delirious agony, to see those exquisite feat 
 ures distorted by frenzy, or to hear that low, sweet voice 
 untuned, the key-note of reason lost. 
 
 Thank heaven ! even death laid its hand gently on one so 
 gentle and so lovely. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 I SAID, death laid its hand gently on one so gentle and so 
 lovely. Week after week she lingered, almost imperceptibly 
 fading, passing away like a soft rolling cloud that melts into the 
 sky. The pestilence had stayed its ravages. The terror, the 
 thick gloom had passed by. 
 
 If I looked abroad at sunset, I could see the windows of the 
 village mansions, crimsoned and glowing with the last flames of 
 day ; but no light was reflected on our darkened home. It was 
 all in shadow. And at night, when the windows of Grandison 
 Place were all illuminated, glittering off by itself like a great 
 lantern, the traveller could scarcely have caught the glimmering 
 ray of the little lamp dimly burning in our curtained room. 
 
 Do you think I was resigned ? That because I was dumb, I 
 lay like a lamb before the stroke of the shearer ? I will tell you 
 how resigned, how submissive I was. I have read of the 
 tortures of the Inquisition. I have read of one who was 
 chained on his back to the dungeon floor, without the power to 
 move one muscle, hand and foot, body and limb bound. As 
 he lay thus prone, looking up, ever upwards, he saw a 
 circular knife, slowly descending, swinging like a pendulum, 
 swinging nearer and nearer; and he knew that every breath he 
 drew it came nearer and nearer, and that he must feel anon the 
 cold, sharp edge. Yet he lay still, immovable, frozen, waiting, 
 with his glazed eyes fixed on the terrible weapon. Such was 
 my resignation my submission. 
 
 Friends gathered around the desolate ; but they could not 
 avert the descending stroke. Mrs. Linwood came, with her an 
 gelic looking daughter, and their presence lighted up, momenta- 
 
 5 * (53) 
 
54 ERNEST LIN W OOD. 
 
 rily, our saddened dwelling, as if they had been messengers from 
 heaven, they were so kind, so sympathizing, so unobtrusive. 
 When Edith first crossed our threshold, she did indeed look 
 like one of those ministering spirits, sent to watch over those 
 who shall be heirs of salvation. She seemed to float forward, 
 light and airy as the down wafted by the summer gale. Hei 
 crutches, the ends of which were wrapped with something soft 
 and velvety, so as to muffle their sound, rather added than 
 detracted from the interest and grace of her appearance, so 
 gracefully they sustained her fair, white-robed form, just lifting 
 it above the earth. 
 
 A little while before, I should have shrunk with nervous 
 diffidence from the approach of guests like these. I should 
 .have contrasted painfully the splendor of their position with the 
 lowliness of our own, but nov/, what were wealth or rank or 
 earthly distinctions to me ? 
 
 I was sitting by my mother s bed, fanning her slumbers, as 
 they entered. Mrs. Linwood walked noiselessly forward, took 
 the fan gently from my hand, and motioned me to resign my 
 seat to her. I did so mechanically, for it seemed she had a 
 right to be there. Then Edith took me by the hand and looked 
 in my face with an expression of such sweet, unaffected sym 
 pathy, I turned aside to hide the quick-gushing tears. Not a 
 word was uttered, yet I knew they came to soothe and comfort. 
 
 When my mother opened her eyes and saw the face of a 
 stranger bending over her, she started and trembled ; but there 
 was something in the mild, Christian countenance of Mrs. Lin- 
 wood that disarmed her fears, and inspired confidence. The 
 pride which had hitherto repelled the advances of friendship, 
 was all chastened and subdued. Death, the great leveller, had 
 entered the house, and the mountains of human distinction 
 flowed down at his presence. 
 
 " I am come to nurse you," said Mrs. Linwood, taking my 
 mother s pale, emaciated hand and pressing it in both her own. 
 " Do not look upon me as a stranger, but as a friend a sister. 
 You will let me stay, will you not ? " 
 
 She seemed soliciting a favor, not conferring one. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 55 
 
 " Thank you, bless you !" answered my mother, her large 
 dark eyes fixed with thrilling intensity on her face. Then she 
 added, in a lower voice, glancing towards me, " she will not be 
 left friendless, then. You will remember her when I am gone." 
 
 " Kindly, tenderly, even with a mother s care," replied Mrs. 
 Linwood, tears suffusing her mild eyes, and testifying the sin 
 cerity of her words. 
 
 My mother laid Mrs. Linwood*s hand on her heart, whose 
 languid beating scarcely stirred the linen that covered it ; then 
 looking up to heaven, her lips moved in silent prayer. A 
 smile, faint but beautiful, passed over her features, and left its 
 sweetness on her face. From that hour to the death-hour Mrs. 
 Linwood did minister to her, as a loving sister would have done. 
 Edith often accompanied her mother and tried to comfort me, 
 but I was then inaccessible to comfort, as I was deaf to hope. 
 When she stayed away, I missed the soft floating of her airy 
 figure, the pitying glance of her heavenly blue eye ; but when 
 she came, I said to myself, 
 
 " Her mother is not dying. How can she sympathize with 
 me ? She is the favorite of Him who is crushing me beneath 
 the iron hand of His wrath." 
 
 Thus impious were my thoughts, but no one read them on 
 my pate, drooping brow. Mrs. Linwood praised my filial 
 devotion, my fortitude and heroism. Dr. Harlowe had told her 
 how I had braved the terrors of midnight solitude through the 
 lonely woods, to bring him to a servant s bedside. Richard 
 Clyde had interested her in my behalf. She told me I had 
 many friends for one so young and so retiring. Oh ! she little 
 knew how coldly fell the words of praise on the dull ear of de 
 spair. I smiled at the thought of needing kindness and protec 
 tion when she was gone. As if it were possible for me to sur 
 vive my mother ! 
 
 Had she not herself told me that grief did not kill ? But I 
 believed her not. 
 
 Do you ask if I felt no curiosity then, about the mystery of 
 my parentage ? I had been looking forward to the time when 
 I should be deemed old enough to know my mother s history, 
 
56 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 of which my imagination had woven such a web of mystery 
 and romance, when I should hear something of that father, 
 whose memory was curtained by such an impenetrable veil. 
 But now it mattered not. Had I known that the blood of kings 
 was in my veins, it would not have wakened one throb of am 
 bition, kindled one ray of joy. I cared not for my lineage or 
 kindred. I would not have disturbed the serenity that seemed 
 settling on my mother s departing spirit, by one question rela 
 tive to her past life, for the wealth of the Indies. 
 
 She gave to Mrs. Linwood a manuscript which she had writ 
 ten while I was at school, and which was to have been com 
 mitted to Peggy s care ; for surely Peggy, the strong, the 
 robust, unwearied Peggy, would survive her, the frail, delicate, 
 and stricken one ! 
 
 She told me this the night before she died, when at her own 
 request I was left alone with her. I knew it was for the last 
 time, but I had been looking forward steadily to this hour, 
 looking as I said before, as the iron-bound prisoner to the re 
 volving knife, and like him I was outwardly calm. I knelt 
 beside her and looked on her shadowy form, her white, transpar 
 ent skin, her dark, still lustrous, though sunken eyes, till it 
 seemed that her spirit, almost disembodied, mingled mysteri 
 ously with mine, in earnest of a divine communion. 
 
 " I thank God, my Gabriella," she said, laying her hand bless- 
 ingly on my bowed head, " that you submit to His holy will, in 
 a spirit of childlike submission. I thank Him for raising up 
 such a friend as Mrs. Linwood, when friend, and comforter 
 seemed taken from us. Love her, confide in her, be grateful 
 to her, my child. Be grateful to God for sending her to soothe 
 my dying hours with promises of protection and love for you, 
 my darling, my child, my poor orphan Gabriella." 
 
 " Oh mother," I cried, " I do not submit, I cannot, I can 
 not ! Dreadful thoughts are in my heart oh, my mother, God 
 is very terrible. Leave me not alone to meet his awful judg- 
 ments.,_.Put your arms round me, my motHer, and let me lie 
 close to your bosom, I will not hurt you, I will lie so gently 
 there. Death cannot separate us, when we cling so close to- 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 57 
 
 getlier. Leave me not alone in the world, so cold, so dark, so 
 dreary, oh, leave me not alone !" Thus I clung to her, in the 
 abandonment of despair, while words rushed unbidden from my 
 lips. 
 
 " Oh, my Gabriella, my child, my_j)oor_smilten lamb ! " sh 
 cried, and I felt her heart fluttering against mine like a dying 
 bird. " Sorrow has bereft you of reason, you know not what 
 you say. Gabrjella, it is an awful thing to resist the Almighty 
 God. Submission is the heritage of dust and ashes.-, /have 
 been proud and rebellious, smarting under a sense of unmerited 
 chastisement and wrong. Because man was false, I thought 
 God unjust, but now, on this dying bed, the illusion of pas 
 sion is dispelled, and I see Him as He is, longsuffering, com- / 
 passionate, and indulgent, in all his loving-kindness and tender 
 mercy, strong to deliver and mighty to save. I feel that I have 
 needecT aTT The^discTplme^or sorrow through which I have 
 passed, to bring my proud and troubled soul, a sin-sick, life- 
 weary wanderer, to my Father s footstool. What matters now, 
 my Gabriella, that I have trod a thorny path, if it lead to 
 heaven at last ? How short the journey, how long the rest ! 
 Oh, beloved child, bow to the hand that smites thee, for the 
 stubborn will must be broken. Wait not, like me, till it be 
 ground into dust." 
 
 She paused breathless and exhausted, but I answered not. 
 Low sobs came gaspingly from my bosom, on which a mountain 
 of ice seemed freezing. 
 
 " If we could die together," she continued, with increasing 
 solemnity, " if I could bear you in these feeble arms to the 
 mercy-seat of God, and know you were safe from temptation, 
 and sorrow, and sin, the bitterness of death would be passed. 
 It is a fearful thing to live, my child, far more fearful than to 
 die, but life is the trial of faith, and death the victory." 
 
 " And now," she added, " before my spirit wings its upward 
 flight, receive my dying injunction. If you live to years of 
 womanhood, and your heart awakens to love, as, alas, for 
 woman s destiny it will, then read my life and sad experi 
 ence, and be warned by my example. Mrs. Linwood is in- 
 
58 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 trusted with the manuscript, blotted with your mother s tears. 
 Oh, Gabriella, by all your love and reverence for the memory 
 of the dead, by the scarlet dye that can be made white as 
 wool, by your own hope in a Saviour s mercy, forgive the 
 living, if living he indeed be ! " 
 
 Her eyes closed as she uttered these words, and a purplish 
 gloom gathered beneath her eyes. The doctor came in and 
 administered ether, which partially revived her. I have never 
 been able to inhale it since, without feeling sick and faint, and 
 recalling the deadly odor of that chamber of mourning. 
 
 About daybreak, I heard Dr. Harlowe say in the lowest 
 whisper to Mrs. Linwood that she could not live more than one 
 hour. He turned the hour-glass as he spoke. She had col 
 lected all the energies of life in that parting interview, noth 
 ing remained but a faint, fluttering, quick-drawn breath. 
 
 I sat looking at the hour-glass, counting every gliding sand, 
 till each little, almost invisible particle, instead of dropping into 
 the crystal receptacle, seemed to foil on my naked heart like 
 the mountain rock. O my God ! there are only two or three 
 sands left, and my mother s life hangs on the last sinking grain. 
 Some one rises with noiseless steps to turn the glass. 
 
 With a shriek that might have arrested the departing spirit, 
 I sprang forward and fell senseless on the floor. 
 
 I remember nothing that passed during the day. I was told 
 afterwards, that when I recovered from the fainting fit, the 
 doctor, apprehensive of spasms, gave me a powerful anodyne 
 to quiet my tortured nerves. When I became conscious of 
 what was passing around me, the moon was shining on the bed 
 where I lay, and the shadow of the softly rustling leaves quiv 
 ering on the counterpane. I was alone, but I heard low, mur 
 muring voices in the next room, and there was a light there 
 more dim and earthly than the pale splendor that enveloped 
 me. I leaned forward on my elbow and looked beyond the 
 open door. The plain white curtains of the bed were looped 
 up on each side, and the festoons swayed heavily in the night 
 air, which made the flame of the lamp dim and wavering. A 
 form reclined on the bed, but the face was cdl covered, though it 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 59 
 
 iras a midsummer s night. As I looked, I remembered all, and 
 I rose and glided through the moonlight to the spot where my 
 mother slept. Sustained by unnatural excitement, I seemed 
 borne on air, and as much separated from the body as the spirit 
 so lately divorced from that unbreathing clay ; it was the effect 
 of the opiate I had taken, but the pale watchers in the death- 
 chamber shuddered at my unearthly appearance. 
 
 " Let there be no light here but light from heaven," said 
 I, extinguishing the fitful lamp-flame ; and the room was imme 
 diately illuminated with a white, ghostly lustre. Then kneeling 
 by the bed, I folded back the linen sheet, gazed with folded 
 hands, and dry, dilated eyes on the mystery of death. The 
 moon, " that sun of the sleepless," that star of the mourner, 
 shone full on her brow, and I smiled to see how divinely fair, 
 how placid, how angelic she looked. Her dark, shining hair, 
 the long dark lashes that pencilled her white cheek, alone 
 prevented her from seeming a statue of the purest marble, 
 fashioned after some Grecian model. Beauty and youth had 
 come back to her reposing features, and peace and rapture too. 
 A smile, such as no living lips ever wore, lingered round her 
 mouth and softened its mute expression. She was happy. 
 God had given his beloved rest. She was happy. It was not 
 death on which I was gazing; it was life, the dawn of 
 immortal, of eternal life. Angels were watching around her. 
 I did not see them, but I felt the shadow of their snow-white 
 wings. I felt them fanning my brow and softly lifting the locks 
 that fell darkly against the sheet, so chilly white. Others might 
 havelTiought it the wind sighing through the leafy lattice-work ; 
 but the presence of angels was real to. me, and who can say 
 they were not hovering there ? 
 
 That scene is past, but its remembrance is undying. The 
 little cottage is inhabited by strangers. The grass grows rank 
 near the brink of the fountain, and the mossy stone once mois 
 tened by my tears has rolled down and choked its gushing. My 
 mother sleeps by the side of the faithful Peggy, beneath a 
 willow that weeps over a broken shaft, fitting monument for 
 a broken heart. 
 
60 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 not dwell on the desolation of orphanage. It cannot 
 be described. My Maker only knows the bitterness of my 
 grief for days, weeks, even months. But time gradually 
 warms the cold clay over the grave of love ; then the grass 
 springs up, and the flowers bloom, and the waste places of life 
 become beautiful with hope, and the wilderness blossoms like 
 the rose. 
 
 But oh, my mother ! my gentle, longsuffering mother ! thou 
 hast never been forgotten. By day and by night, in sunshine 
 and shadow, in joy and in sorrow, thou art with me, a holy 
 spirit, a hallowed memory, a chastening influence, that passeth 
 not away. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHAT a change, from the little gray cottage in the woods to 
 the pillared waljs of Grandison Place. 
 
 This ancestral looking mansion was situated on the brow of 
 a long, winding hill, which commanded a view of the loveliest 
 valley in the world. A bold, sweeping outline of distant hills, 
 here and there swelling into mountains, and crowned with 
 a deeper, mistier blue, divided the rich green of the earth from, 
 the azure of the heavens. Far as the eye could reach, it 
 beheld the wildest luxuriance ~oT~riatiire refined and subdued by 
 the hand of cultivation and taste. Man had reverenced the 
 grandeur of the Creator, and made the ploughshare turn aside 
 from the noble shade-tree, and left the streams rejoicing in their 
 margins of verdure ; and far off, far away beneath the shadow 
 of the misty blue hills, of a paler, more leaden hue, the 
 waters of the great sea seemed ready to roll down on the vale, 
 that lay smiling before it. 
 
 Built of native granite, with high massive walls and low 
 turreted roof, Grandison Place rose above the surrounding 
 buildings in castellated majesty. It stood in the centre of a 
 spacious lawn, zoned by a girdle of oaks, beneath whose dense 
 shade the dew sparkled even at noonday. Within this zone 
 was a hedge of cedar, so smooth, with twigs so thickly interwo 
 ven, that the gossamer thought it a framework, on which to 
 stretch its transparent web in the morning sun. Near the house 
 the lawn was margined with beds of the rarest and most beauti 
 ful flowers, queen roses, and all the fragrant populace of the floral 
 world. But the grandest and most beautiful feature of all was 
 a magnificent elm-tree, standing right in the centre of the green 
 
 6 (61) 
 
62 EKNESTLINWOOD. 
 
 inclosure, towering upward, sweeping downward, spreading on 
 either side its lordly branches, 4i from storms a shelter and from 
 heat a shade." 
 
 I never saw so noble a tree. I loved it, I reverenced it. 
 I associated with it the idea of strength and protection. Had I 
 seen the woodman s axe touch its bark, I should have felt as if 
 blood would stream from its venerable trunk. A circular 
 bench with a back formed of boughs woven in checker-work 
 surrounded it, and at twilight the soft sofas in the drawing-room 
 were left vacant for this rustic seat. 
 
 Edith loved it, and when she sat there with her crutches 
 leaning against the rough back, whose gray tint subdued the 
 bright lustre of her golden hair, I would throw myself on the 
 grass at her feet and gaze upon her, as the embodiment of 
 human loveliness. 
 
 One would suppose that I felt awkward and strange in the 
 midst of such unaccustomed magnificence ; but it was not so. 
 It seemed natural and right for me to be there. I trod the soft, 
 rich, velvety carpeting with a step as unembarrassed as when I 
 traversed the grassy lawn. I was as much at home among the 
 splendors of art as the beauties of nature, both seemed my 
 birthright. 
 
 I felt the deepest, most unbounded gratitude for my benefac 
 tress ; but there was nothing abject in it. I knew that giving 
 did not impoverish her ; that the food I ate was not as much to 
 her as the crumbs that fell from my mother s table ; that the 
 room I occupied was but one in a suite of elegant apartments ; 
 yet this did not diminish my sense of obligation. It lightened 
 it, however, of its oppressive weight. 
 
 My room was next to Edith s. The only difference in the 
 furniture was in the color of the hangings. The curtains and 
 bed drapery of mine were pink, hers blue. Both opened into 
 an upper piazza, whose lofty pillars were wreathed with flower 
 ing vines, and crowned with Corinthian capitals. Surely my 
 love for the beautiful ought to have been satisfied ; and so it 
 was, but it was long, long before my heart opened to receive 
 its influence. The clods that covered my mother s ashes laid 
 too heavily upon it. 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 63 
 
 Mrs. Linwood had a great deal of company from the city, 
 which was bat a short journey from Grandison Place. As they 
 were mostly transient guests, I saw but little of them. My 
 extreme youth, and deep mourning dress, were sufficient rea 
 sons for withdrawing from the family circle when strangers en 
 larged it. Edith was three years older than myself, and was 
 of course expected to assist her mother in the honors of hospi 
 tality. She loved society, moreover, and entered into its inno 
 cent pleasures with the delight of a young, genial nature. It 
 was difficult to think of her as a young lady, she was so ex 
 tremely juvenile in her appearance; and her lameness, by giving 
 her an air of childish dependence, added to the illusion caused by 
 her fair, clustering ringlets and infantine rosiness of complexion. 
 She wanted to bring me forward ; she coaxed, caressed, and 
 playfully threatened, nor desisted till her mother said, with 
 grave tenderness 
 
 * The heart cannot be forced, Edith ; Gabriella is but a child, 
 and should be allowed the freedom of a child. The restraints 
 of social life, once assumed, are not easily thrown aside. Let 
 her do just as she pleases." 
 
 And so I did ; and it pleased me to wander about the lawn ; 
 to sit and read under the great elm-tree ; to make garlands of 
 myrtle and sweet running vine flowers for Edith s beautiful 
 hair ; to walk the piazza, when moonlight silvered the columns 
 and covered with white glory the granite walls, while the foun 
 tain of poetry down in the depths of my soul welled and trem 
 bled in the heavenly lustre. 
 
 It pleased me to sit in the library, or rather to stand and 
 move about there, for at that time I did not like to sit anywhere 
 but on the grass or the oaken bench. The old poets were 
 there in rich binding, all the classics, and the choicest speci 
 mens of modern literature. There were light, airy, movable, 
 steps, so as to reach to the topmost shelves, and there I loved to 
 poise myself, like a bird on the spray, peeping into this book 
 and that, gathering here and there a golden grain or sweet 
 scented flower for the garner of thought, or the bower of imag 
 ination. 
 
64 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 There were statues in niches made to receive them, the 
 gods and goddesses of Greece and Rome, in theip cold, severe 
 beauty, all passionless and pure, in spite of the glowing my 
 thology that called them into existence. There were paintings, 
 too, that became a part of rny being, I took them in with such 
 intense, gazing eyes. Indeed, the house was lined with them. 
 I could not walk through a room without stopping to admire 
 some work of genius, some masterpiece of art. 
 
 I overheard Dr. Harlowe say to Mrs. Linwood, that it was a 
 pity I were not at school, I was so very young. As if I were 
 not at school all th<5 time ! As if those grand old books were 
 not teachers ; those breathing statues, those gorgeous paintings 
 were not teachers ; as if the noble edifice itself, with its 
 magnificent surroundings, the billowy heave of the distant 
 mountains, the glimpses of the sublime sea, the fair expanse of 
 the beautiful valley, were not teachers ! 
 
 Oh ! they little knew what lessons I was learning. They 
 little knew how the soul of the silent orphan girl was growing 
 within her, how her imagination, like flowers, was nourished in 
 stillness and secrecy by the air and the sunshine, the dew and 
 the shower. 
 
 I had other teachers, too, in the lonely churchyard ; very 
 solemn they were, and gentle too, and I loved their voiceless 
 instructions better than the sounding eloquence of words. 
 
 Mr. Regulus thought with Dr. Harlowe, that it was a pity I 
 was not at school. He called to see Mrs. Linwood and asked 
 her to use her influence to induce me to return as a pupil to the 
 academy. She left it to my decision, but I shrunk from the 
 thought of contact with the rude village children. I felt as if 
 I had learned all Mr. Regulus could teach me. I was under 
 greater masters now. Yet I was grateful for the interest he 
 manifested in me. I had no vindictive remembrance of the 
 poem he had so ruthlessly murdered. Innumerable acts of 
 after kindness had obliterated the impression, or rather covered 
 it with a growth of pleasant memories. 
 
 " Have you given up entirely the idea of being a teacher 
 yourself?" he asked, in a low voice, "or has the kindness of 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. G5 
 
 riends rendered it superfluous ? I do not ask from curiosity, 
 ut a deep interest in your future welfare." 
 
 This was a startling question. I bad not thought of the sub 
 ject since I had entered my new home. Why should I think 
 >f the drudgery of life, pillowed on the downy couch of luxury 
 md ease ? I was forgetting that I was but the recipient of 
 another s bounty, a guest, but not a child of the household. 
 
 Low as was his voice, I knew Mrs. Linwood heard and un 
 derstood him, for her eyes rested on me with a peculiar expres 
 sion of anxiety and interest. She did not speak, and I knew 
 not what to utter. A burning glow rose to my cheeks, and my 
 heart fluttered with painful apprehension. It was all a dream, 
 then. That home of affluence was not mine, it was only the 
 asylum of my first days of orphanage. The maternal tender 
 ness of Mrs. Linwood was nothing more than compassion and 
 Christian charity, and the sisterly affection of the lovely Edith 
 but the overflowing of the milk of human kindness. These were 
 my first, flashing thoughts ; then the inherent pride of my na 
 ture rose to sustain me. I would never be a willing burden to 
 any one. I would toil day and night, sooner than eat the bread 
 of dependence. It would have been far better to have left me in 
 the humble cottage where they found me, to commence my life 
 of drudgery at once, than to have given me a taste of luxury and 
 affluence, to heighten, by force of contrast, privation and labor. 
 
 u I will commence teaching immediately," I answered, trying 
 in vain to speak with firmness, " if you think I am not too 
 young, and a situation can be obtained ; " " that is," I added, I 
 fear a little proudly, " if Mrs. Linwood approve." 
 
 " It must not be thought of at present" she answered, speak 
 ing to Mr. Regains. " Gabriella is too young yet to assume 
 the burden of authority. Her physical powers are still unde 
 veloped. Besides, we shall pass the winter in the metropolis. 
 Next summer we will talk about it." 
 
 " They speak of adding a primary department to the acade 
 my," said my former master, " which will be under female su 
 perintendence. If this is done, and she would accept the situa 
 tion, I think I have influence enough to secure it for her." 
 
 6* 
 
66 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " We will see to that hereafter," said Mrs. Linwood ; " but 
 of one thing I am assured, if Gabriella ever wishes to assume 
 duties so honorable and so feminine, she would think it a privi 
 lege to be under your especial guardianship, and within reach 
 of your experience and counsel." 
 
 I tried to speak, and utter an assent to this wise and decided 
 remark, but I could not. I felt the tears gushing into my eyes, 
 and hastily rising, I left the room. I did not go out on the 
 lawn, for I saw Edith s white robes under the trees, and I knew 
 the guests of the city were with her. I ran up stairs to my own 
 apartment, or that which was called mine, and, sitting down in 
 an embrasure of the window, drew aside the rosy damask antf 
 gazed around me. 
 
 Do not judge me too harshly. I was ungrateful ; I knew 1 
 was. My heart rose against Mrs. Linwood for her cold de 
 cision. I forgot, for the moment, her holy ministrations to my 
 dying mother, her care and protection of me, when left desolate 
 and alone. I forgot that I had no claims on her beyond what 
 her compassion granted. I realized all at once that I was poor 
 and dependent, though basking in the sunshine of wealth. 
 
 In justice to myself I must say, that the bitterest tears I then 
 shed were caused by disappointment in Mrs. Linwood s exalted 
 character. I had imagined her "bounty as boundless as the 
 sea, her love as deep." Now the noble proportion of her vir 
 tues seemed dwarfed, their luxuriance stinted, and withering 
 too. 
 
 While I was thus cheating my benefactress of her fair per 
 fections, she came in with her usual quiet and stilly step, and 
 sat down beside me. The consciousness of what was passing 
 in my mind, made the guilty blood rush warm to my face. 
 
 " You have been weeping, Gabriella," she said, in gentle ac 
 cents ; " your feelings are wounded, you think me cold, perhaps 
 unkind." 
 
 " Qh, madam, what have I said ? " 
 
 " Nothing, my dear child, and yet I have read every thing. 
 Your ingenuous countenance expressed on my entrance as 
 plain as words could utter, * Hate me, for I am an ingrate. " 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 67 
 
 " You do, indeed, read very closely." 
 
 " Could you look as closely into my heart, Gabriella, were my 
 face as transparent as yours, you would understand at once my 
 apparent coldness as anxiety for your highest good. Did I 
 consult my own pleasure, without regard to that discipline by 
 which the elements of character are wrought into beauty and 
 fitness, I should cherish no wish but to see you ever near me as 
 now, indulging the sweet dreams of youth, only the more fas 
 cinating for being shadowed with melancholy. I would save 
 you, if possible, from becoming the victim of a diseased imag 
 ination, or too morbid a sensibility." 
 
 I looked up, impressed with her calm, earnest tones, and as I 
 listened, conscience upbraided me with injustice and ingrati 
 tude. 
 
 " There is a period in every young girl s life, my dear Gabri 
 ella, when she is in danger of becoming a vain and idle 
 dreamer, when the amusements of childhood have ceased to 
 interest, and the shadow of woman s destiny involves the pleas 
 ures of youth. The mind is occupied with vague imaginings, 
 the heart with restless cravings for unknown blessings. With 
 your vivid imagination and deep sensibility, your love of reverie 
 and abstraction, there is great danger of your yielding uncon 
 sciously to habits the more fatal in their influence, because ap 
 parently as innocent as they are insidious and pernicious. A 
 life of active industry and usefulness is the only safeguard from 
 temptation and sin." 
 
 Oh, how every true word she uttered ennobled her in my 
 estimation, while it humbled myself. Idler that I was in my 
 Father s vineyard, I was holding out my hands for the cluster 
 ing grapes, whose purple juice is for him who treadeth the 
 wine-press. 
 
 "Were my own Edith physically strong," she added, "I 
 would ask no nobler vocation for her than the one suggested to 
 you this day. I should rejoice to see her passing through a 
 discipline so chastening and exalting. I should rejoice to see 
 her exercising the faculties which God has given her for the 
 benefit of her kind. The possession of wealth does not exempt 
 
68 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 one from the active duties of life, from self-sacrifice, industry, 
 and patient continuance in well-doing. The little I have done 
 for you, all that I can do, is but a drop from the fountain, and 
 were it ten times more would never be missed. It is not that I 
 would give less, but I would require more. While I live, this 
 shall ever be your home, where you shall feel a mother s care, 
 protection, and tenderness ; but I want you to form habits of 
 self-reliance, independence, and usefulness, which will remain 
 your friends, though other friends should be taken from you." 
 
 Dear, excellent Mrs. Linwood ! how my proud, rebellious 
 heart melted before her! What resolutions I formed to be 
 always governed by her influence, and guided by her counsels ! 
 How vividly her image rises before me, as she then looked, in 
 her customary dress of pale, silver gray, her plain yet graceful 
 lace cap, simply parted hair, and calm, benevolent countenance. 
 
 She was the most unpretending of human beings. She moved 
 about the house with a step as stilly as the falling dews. In 
 deed, such was her walk through life. She seemed born to 
 teach mankind unostentatious charity. Yet, under this mild, 
 calm exterior, she had a strong, controlling will, which all 
 around her felt and acknowledged. From the moment she 
 drew the fan from my hand, at my mother s bedside, to the 
 hour I left her dwelling, she acted upon me with a force power 
 ful as the sun, and as benignant too. 
 
 ..4ii 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IF I do not pass more rapidly over these early scenes, I shall 
 never finish my book. 
 
 Book! am I writing a book ? No, indeed! This is only 
 a record of my heart s life, written at random and carelessly 
 thrown aside, sheet after sheet, sibylline leaves from the great 
 book of fate. The wind may blow them away, a spark con 
 sume them. I may myself commit them to the flames. I am 
 tempted to do so at this moment. 
 
 I once thought it a glorious thing to be an author, to touch 
 the electric wire of sentiment, and know that thousands would 
 thrill at the shock, to speak, and believe that unborn millions 
 would hear the music of those echoing words, to possess the 
 wand of the enchanter, the ring of the genii, the magic key to 
 the temple of temples, the pass-word to the universe of mind. 
 I once had such visions as these, but they are passed. 
 
 To touch the electric wire, and feel the bolt scathing one s 
 own brain, to speak, to hear the dreary echo of one s voice 
 return through the desert waste, to enter the temple and find 
 nothing but ruins and desolation, to lay a sacrifice on the 
 altar,.. and see no fire from heaven descend in token of accept 
 ance, to stand the priestess of a lonely shrine, uttering ora 
 cles to the unheeding wind, is not such too often the doom of 
 those who have looked to fame as their heritage, believing 
 genius their dower ? 
 
 Heaven save me from such a destiny. Better the daily task, 
 the measured duty, the chained-down spirit, the girdled heart. 
 
 A year after Mrs. Linwood pointed out to me the path of 
 duty, I began to walk in it. I have passed the winter in the 
 
 (69) 
 
70 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 city, but it was one of deep seclusion to me. I welcomed with 
 rapture our return to the country, and had so far awakened 
 from dream-life, as to prepare myself with steadiness of pur 
 pose for the realities of my destiny. 
 
 Edith rebelled against her mother s decision. There was 
 no need of such a thing. I was too young, too delicate, too 
 sensitive for so rough a task. There was a plenty of robust 
 country girls to assist Mr. Regulus, if he wanted them to, with 
 out depriving her of her companion and sister. She appealed 
 to Dr. Harlowe, in her sweet, bewitching way, which always 
 seemed irresistible ; but he only gave her a genial smile, called 
 me " a brave little girl," and bade me " God speed." " I wish 
 Richard Clyde were here," said she, in her own artless, half- 
 childish manner, " I am sure he would be on my side. I wish 
 brother Ernest would come home, he would decide the question. 
 Oh, Gabriella, if you only knew brother Ernest ! " 
 
 If I have not mentioned this brother Ernest before, it is not 
 because I had not heard his name repeated a thousand times. 
 He was the only son and brother of the family, who, having 
 graduated with the first honors at the college of his native 
 State, was completing his education in Germany, at the cele 
 brated University of Gottingen. There was a picture of him 
 in the library, taken just before he left the country, on which 
 I had gazed, till it was to me a living being. It was a dark, 
 fascinating face, a face half of sunshine and half shadow, a 
 face of mysterious meanings ; as different from Edith s as 
 night from morning. It reminded me of the head of Byron, 
 but it expressed deeper sensibility, and the features were even 
 more symmetrically handsome. 
 
 Edith, who was as frank and artless as a child, was always 
 talking of her brother, of his brilliant talents, his genius, and 
 peculiarities. She showed me his letters, which were written 
 with extraordinary beauty and power, though the sentiments 
 Avere somewhat obscured by a transcendental mistiness belong 
 ing to the atmosphere he breathed. 
 
 " Ernest never was like anybody else," said Edith ; " he is 
 the most singular, but the most fascinating of human beings. Oh, 
 
E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 71 
 
 Gabriella, I long to have him come back, that you may know 
 and admire him." 
 
 Though I knew by ten thousand signs that this absent son was 
 the first object of Mrs. Linwood s thoughts, she seldom talked 
 of him to me. She often, when Edith was indulging in her 
 enthusiastic descriptions of him, endeavored to change the 
 conversation and turn my thoughts in other channels. 
 
 But why do I speak of Ernest Lin wood here ? It is prema 
 ture. I was about to describe a little part of my experience 
 as a village teacher. 
 
 Edith had a beautiful little pony, gentle as a lamb, yet very 
 spirited withal, (for lame though she was, she was a graceful and 
 fearless equestrian,) which it was arranged that I should ride 
 every morning, escorted by a servant, who carried the pony back 
 for Edith s use. Dr. Harlowe, who resided near the academy, said 
 I was always to dine at his house, and walk home in the even 
 ing. They must not make too much of a fine lady of me. I 
 must exercise, if I would gather the roses of health. Surely 
 no young girl could begin the ordeal of duty under kinder, 
 more favoring auspices. 
 
 After the first dreaded morning when Mr. Regulus, tall, 
 stately, and imposing, ushered me into the apartment where I 
 was to preside with delegated authority, led me up a low 
 flight of steps and waved his hand towards a high magisterial 
 arm-chair which was to be my future throne, I felt a degree 
 of self-confidence that surprised and encouraged me. Every 
 thing was so novel, so fresh, it imparted an elasticity to my 
 spirits I had not felt in Mrs. Linwood s luxurious home. Then 
 there was something self-sustaining, inspiring in the conscious 
 ness of intellectual exertion and moral courage, in the thought 
 that I was doing some little good in the world, that I was secur 
 ing the approbation of Mrs. Linwood and of the excellent Dr. 
 Harlowe. The children, who had most of them been my fellow 
 pupils, looked upon Gabriella Lynn, the protegee of the rich 
 Mrs. Linwood, as a different being from Gabriella Lynn of the 
 little gray cottage in the woods. I have no doubt they thought 
 it very grand to ride on that beautiful pony, with its saddle-cloth 
 
72 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 of blue and silver, and glittering martingale, escorted by a ser 
 vant too ! Had they been disposed to rebel at my authority, 
 they would not have dared to do so, for Mr. Regulus, jealous 
 for my new dignity, watched over it with an eagle eye. 
 
 Where were the chains, whose prophetic clanking had chilled 
 my misgiving heart ? They were transformed to flowery gar 
 lands, of daily renewing fragrance and bloom. My desk was 
 literally covered with blossoms while their season lasted, and 
 little fairy fingers were always twining with wreaths the dark hair 
 they loved to arrange according to their own juvenile fancies. 
 
 My noon hours at Dr. Ilarlowe s, were pleasant episodes in 
 my daily life. Mrs. Harlowe was an excellent woman. She 
 was called by the villagers " a most superior woman," and 
 so she was, if admirable housekeeping and devotion to her 
 husband s interests entitled her to the praise. She was always 
 busy ; but the doctor, though he .had a wide sweep of practice 
 in the surrounding country, always seemed at leisure. There 
 was something so cheerful, so encouraging about him, despond 
 ency fled from his presence and gave place to hope. 
 
 I love to recall this era of my life. If I have known deeper 
 happiness, more exalted raptures, they were dearly purchased 
 by the sacrifice of the peace, the salubrity of mind I then 
 enjoyed. I had a little room of my own there, where I was as 
 much at home as I was at Mrs. Linwood s. There was a 
 place for my bonnet and parasol, a shelf for my books, a low 
 rocking-chair placed at the pleasantest window for me ; and, 
 knowing Mrs. Harlowe s methodical habits, I was always care 
 ful to leave every thing, as I found it, in Quaker-like order. 
 This was the smallest return I could make for her hospitality, 
 and she appreciated it far beyond its merits. The good doctor, 
 with all his virtues, tried the patience of his wife sometimes 
 beyond its limits, by his excessive carelessness. He would 
 forget to hang his hat in the hall, and toss it on the bright, pol 
 ished mahogany table. He would forget to use the scraper by 
 the steps, or the mat by the door, and leave tracks on the 
 clean floor or nice carpet. These little things really worried 
 her j I could see they did. She never said any thing ; but she 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 73 
 
 would get up, take up the hat, brush the table with her hand 
 kerchief, and hang the hat in its right place, or send the house- 
 girl with the broom after his disfiguring tracks. 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear," he would say with imperturbable 
 good-nature, "really, I am too forgetful. I must have a 
 self-regulating machine attached to my movements, a porta 
 ble duster and hat-catcher. But, the blessed freedom of home. 
 It constitutes half its joy. Dear me ! I would not exchange 
 the privilege of doing as I please for the emperorship of the 
 celestial realms." 
 
 But, pleasant as were my noon rests, my homeward walks 
 were pleasanter still. The dream-girl, after being awake for 
 long hours to the practical duties of life, loved to ramble alone, 
 till she felt herself involved in the soft haziness of thought, 
 which was to the soul what the blue mistiness was to the distant 
 hills. I could wander then alone to the churchyard, and yield 
 myself unmolested to the sacred influences of memory. Do you 
 remember my asking Richard Clyde to plant a white rose by 
 my mother s grave ? He had done so, soon after her burial, 
 and now, when rather more than a year had passed, it was put 
 ting forth fair buds and blossoms, and breathing of renovation 
 over the ruins of life. I never saw this rose-tree without 
 blessing the hand which planted it ; and I loved to sit on the 
 waving grass and listen to the soft summer wind stealing 
 through it, rustling among the dry blades and whispering witji 
 the green ones. 
 
 There was one sentence that fell from my mother s dying 
 lips which ever came to me in the sighs of the gale, fraught with 
 mournful mystery. " Because man was false, I dared to think 
 God was unjust." And had she not adjured me by every 
 precious and every solemn consideration, " to forgive the living, 
 if living he indeed was ? " 
 
 I knew these words referred to my father ; and what a his 
 tory of wrong and sorrow was left for my imagination to fill 
 up ! Living ! my father living ! Oh ! there is no grave so 
 deep as that dug by the hand of neglect or desertion ! He had 
 been dead to my mother, he had been dead to me. I shud- 
 
 7 
 
74 E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 
 
 dered at the thought of breathing the same vital element. He 
 who had broken a mother s heart must be a fiend, worthy of 
 eternal abhorrence. 
 
 " If you live to years of womanhood," said my expiring 
 mother, " and your heart awakens to love, as alas for woman s 
 destiny it will, then read my life s sad experience, and be 
 warned by my example." 
 
 Sad prophetess ! Death has consecrated thy prediction, but 
 it is yet unfulfilled. When will womanhood commence, on 
 whose horizon the morning star of love is to rise in clouded 
 lustre ? 
 
 Surely I am invested with a woman s dignity, in that great 
 arm-chair, behind the green-covered desk. I feel very much 
 like a blown rose, surrounded by the rose-bud garland of child 
 hood. Yet Dr. Harlowe calls me "little girl," and Mr. Regu- 
 lus " my child," when the pupils are riot by ; then it is " Miss 
 Gabriella." They forget that I am sixteen, and that I have 
 grown taller and more womanly in the last year ; but the awak 
 ening heart has not yet throbbed at its dawning destiny, the 
 daystar of love has not risen on its slumbers. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " I WISH you had a vacation too," said Richard Clyde, as we 
 ascended together the winding hill. 
 
 "Then we should not have these pleasant walks," I an 
 swered. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Why, I should not be returning from school at this hour 
 every day, and you would not happen to overtake me as you do 
 now." 
 
 " How do you know it is accident, Gabriella ? How do you 
 know but I wander about the woods, a restless ghost, till glad 
 ringing voices chiming together, announce that you are free, 
 and that I am at liberty to play guardian and knight, as I did 
 three or four years ago ? " 
 
 " Because you would not waste your time so foolishly, and 
 because I do not need a guardian now. I am in authority, you 
 know, and no one molests or makes me afraid." 
 
 " Nevertheless, you need a guardian more than ever, and I 
 shall remain true to my boyish allegiance." 
 
 Richard always had a gay, dashing way of talking, and his 
 residence in college had certainly not subdued the gay spirit of 
 chivalry that sparkled in his eye. He had grown much taller 
 since I had seen him last, his face was more intellectual and 
 altogether improved, and his dress was elegantly, though not 
 foppishly, fashionable. He was an exceedingly agreeable com 
 panion. Even when I was most shy and sensitive, I felt at 
 ease with him. When I say that I looked upon him something 
 as an elder brother, I mean what I express, not the sickly 
 affectation with which young girls sometimes strive to hide a 
 deeper feeling, I remembered his steady school-boy friend 
 ship, his sympathy in the dark days of anguish and despair, and 
 
76 ERNEST LIN WO OD . 
 
 more than all, the rose, the sacred rose he had planted at my 
 mother s grave. 
 
 I thanked him for this, with a choking voice and a moistened 
 eye. 
 
 " Do not thank me," said he ; " I had a mother once, she, 
 too, is gone. The world may contain for us many friends, but 
 never but one mother, Gabriella. I was only ten years old 
 when mine was taken from me, but her influence is around me 
 still, a safeguard and a blessing." 
 
 Words so full of feeling and reverence were more impressive 
 falling from lips usually sparkling with gaiety and wit. We 
 walked in silence up the gradual ascent, till we came to a fine 
 old elm, branching out by the way-side, and we paused to rest 
 under its boughs. As we did so, we turned towards the valley 
 we were leaving behind, and beheld it stretching, a magnificent 
 panorama, to the east and the west, the north and the south, 
 wearing every shade of green, from the deep, rich hue of the 
 stately corn to the brighter emerald of the oat fields, and the 
 dazzling verdure of the pasture-land ; and over all this glowing 
 landscape the golden glory of approaching sunset hung like a 
 royal canopy, whose purple fringes rested on the distant moun 
 tain^. 
 
 r How beautiful ! " I exclaimed with enthusiasm. 
 
 f How beautiful ! " he echoed with equal fervor. 
 
 " You are but mocking my w r ords, Richard, you are not 
 looking at the enchanting prospect." 
 
 " Yes, I am, a very enchanting one." 
 
 " How foolish ! " I cried, for I could not but understand the 
 emphasis of his smiling glance. 
 
 " Why am I more foolish in admiring one beautiful prospect 
 than you another, Gabriella ? You solicited my admiration for 
 one charming view, while my eyes were riveted on another. If 
 we are both sincere, we are equally wise." 
 
 " But it seems so unnecessary to take the pains to compli 
 ment me, w r hen you know me so well, and when I know myself 
 so well too." 
 
 " I doubt your self-knowledge very much. I do not believe, 
 
ERNESTLINWOOD. 77 
 
 in the first place, that you are aware how wonderfully you are 
 improved. You do not look the same girl you did a year ago. 
 You have grown taller, fairer, brighter, Gabriella. I did not 
 expect to see this, when I heard you had shut yourself up in 
 the academy again, under the shadow of old llegulus s beetling 
 brows." 
 
 " I am sure he is not old, Richard ; he is in the very prime 
 of manhood." 
 
 " Well, Professor Regulus, then. We boys have a habit of 
 speaking of our teachers in this way. I know it is a bad one, 
 but we all fall into it. All our college professors have a meta 
 phorical name, with the venerable epithet attached to it, which 
 you condemn. 
 
 I do not like it at all ; it sounds so disrespectful, and, par 
 don me for saying it, even coarse." 
 
 " You have a great respect for Mr. Regulus." 
 
 " I have ; he is one of my best friends." 
 
 " I dare say he is ; I should like to be in his place. You 
 have another great friend, old Dr. Harlowe." 
 
 "There, again. Why, Dr. Harlowe is almost young, at 
 least very far from being old. He is one of the finest looking 
 men I ever saw, and one of the best. You college students 
 must be a very presuming set of young men." 
 
 I spoke gravely, for I was really vexed that any one whom I 
 esteemed as much as I did Richard, should adopt the vulgarisms 
 he once despised. 
 
 " We are a barbarous, rude set," he answered with redeem 
 ing frankness. " We show exactly what a savage man is and 
 would ever be, without the refining influence of women. If it 
 were not for our vacations, we would soon get beyond the reach 
 of civilization. Be not angry with my roughness, most gentle 
 Gabriella. Pass over it your smoothing touch, and it shall 
 have the polish of marble, without its coldness." 
 
 We had resumed our walk, and the granite walls of Grandi- 
 son Place began to loom up above the surrounding shade. 
 
 " That is a noble mansion," said he. " How admirably such a 
 residence must harmonize with your high, romantic thoughts ! 
 
 7* 
 
78 E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 
 
 But there is one thing that impresses me with wonder, that 
 Mrs. Lin wood, so rich, so liberal too, with only one daughter, 
 should allow you, her adopted child, to devote your young hours 
 to the drudgery of teaching. It seems so unnecessary, so in 
 consistent with her usual munificence of action." 
 
 The glow of wounded pride warmed my cheek. I had be 
 come happy in my vocation, but I could not bear to hear it 
 depreciated, nor the motives of my benefactress misunderstood 
 and misrepresented. * 
 
 " Mrs. Linwood is as wise as she is kind," I answered, hastily. 
 " It is my happiness and good she consults, not her own pleasure. 
 Giving does not impoverish either her ample purse or her 
 generous heart. She knows my nature, knows that I could 
 not bear the stagnation of a life of luxurious ease." 
 
 " Edith can, why not you ? " 
 
 " We are so different. She was born for the position she 
 occupies. She is one of the lilies of the valley, that toil not, 
 neither do they spin, yet they fulfil a lovely mission. Do not 
 try to make me discontented with a lot, so full of blessings, 
 Richard. Surely no orphan girl was ever more tenderly cher 
 ished, more abundantly cared for." 
 
 " Discontented ! " he exclaimed, " heaven forbid ! I must be 
 a wretched blunderer. I am saying something wrong all the 
 time, with a heart full of most excellent intentions. Discon 
 tented ! no, indeed ; I have only the unfortunate habit of speak 
 ing before I think. I shall grow wiser as I grow older, I 
 trust." 
 
 He reached up to a branch that bent over the way-side, and 
 breaking it off, began to strip it of its green leaves and scatter 
 them in the path. 
 
 " You do not think me angry, Richard ? " I asked, catching 
 some of the leaves, before they fell to the ground. " I once felt 
 all that you express ; and I was doubly wrong ; I was guilty of 
 ingratitude, you only of thoughtlessness." 
 
 " When does Mrs. Linwood expect her son ? " he asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Next summer, I believe ; I do not exactly know." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 79 
 
 " He will take strong hold of your poetic imagination. 
 There is something l grand, gloomy, and peculiar about him ; 
 a mystery of reserve, which oft amounts to haughtiness. I am 
 but very little acquainted with him, and probably never shall be. 
 Should we chance to meet in society, we would be two parallel 
 lines, never uniting, however near we might approach. Be 
 sides, he is a number of years older than myself." 
 
 " I suppose you call him old Mr. Linwood," said I, laughing. 
 -We had now entered the gate, and met Mrs. Linwood and 
 Edith walking in the avenue, if Edith could be said to walk, 
 borne on as she was by her softly falling crutches. She looked 
 so exceedingly lovely, I wondered that Richard did not burst 
 forth in expressions of irrepressible admiration. I was never 
 weary of gazing on her beauty. Even after an absence of a 
 few hours, it dawned upon me with new lustre, like that of the 
 rising day. I wondered that any one ever looked at any one 
 else in her presence. As for myself, I felt annihilated by her 
 dazzling fairness, as the little star is absorbed by the resplen 
 dent moon. 
 
 Strange, all beautiful as she was she did not attract, as one 
 would suppose, the admiration of the other sex. Perhaps there 
 was something cold and shadowy in the ethereality of her love 
 liness, a want of sympathy with man s more earthly, passionate 
 nature. It is very certain, the beauty which woman most ad 
 mires often falls coldly on the gaze of man. Edith had the face 
 of an angel ; but hers was not the darkening eye and chang 
 ing cheek that " pale passion loves." Did the sons of God 
 come down to earth, as they did in olden time, to woo the 
 daughters of men, they might have sought her as their bride. 
 She was not cold, however ; she was not passionless. She had 
 a woman s heart, formed to enshrine an idol of clay, believing it 
 imperishable as its own love. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood gave Richard a cordial greeting. I had an 
 unaccountable fear that she would not be pleased that he es 
 corted me home so frequently, though this was the first time he 
 had accompanied me to the lawn. She urged him to remain 
 and pass the evening, or rather asked him, for he required no 
 
80 E 11 N E S T L I N W O O D . 
 
 urging. I am sure it must have been a happy one to him. 
 Edith played upon her harp, which had been newly strung. 
 She seemed the very personiiication of one of Ossian s blue-eyed 
 maids, with her white, rising hands, and long, floating locks. 
 
 I was passionately fond of music, and had my talent been ear 
 ly cultivated I would doubtless hr*ve excelled. I cared not much 
 about the piano, but there was inspiration in the very sight of 
 a harp. In imagination I was Corinna, improvising the impas 
 sioned strains of Italy, or a Sappho, breathing out my soul, like 
 the dying swan, in strains of thrilling melody. Edith was a St. 
 Cecilia. Had my hand swept the chords, the hearts of mortals 
 would have vibrated at the touch ; she touched the divine string, 
 and " called angels down." 
 
 When I retired that night and saw the reflection of myself 
 full length, in the large pier-glass, between the rosy folds of the 
 sweeping damask, I could not help recalling what Richard Clyde 
 had said of my personal improvement. Was he sincere, when 
 with apparent enthusiasm he had applied to me the epithet, 
 beautiful ? No, he could not be ; and yet his eyes had empha 
 sized the language of his lips. 
 
 I was not vain. Few young girls ever thought less of their 
 personal appearance. I lived so much in the world within, that 
 I gave but little heed to the fashion of my outward form. It 
 seemed so poor an expression of the glowing heart, the heaven- 
 born soul. 
 
 For the first time I looked upon myself with reference to 
 the eyes of others, and I tried to imagine the youthful figure 
 on which I gazed as belonging to another, and not myself. 
 Were the outlines softened by the dark-flowing sable, classic 
 and graceful? Was there beauty in the oval cheek, now 
 wearing the warm bloom of the brunette, or the dark, long- 
 lashed eye, which drooped with the burden of imuttered 
 thoughts ? 
 
 As I asked myself these questions, I smiled at my folly ; 
 and as the image smiled back upon the original, there was such 
 a light, such a glow, such a living soul passed before me, 
 that for one moment a triumphant consciousness swelled my 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 81 
 
 bosom, a new revelation beamed on my understanding, the 
 consciousness of woman s hitherto unknown power, the revel 
 ation of woman s destiny. 
 
 And connected with this, there came the remembrance of 
 that haunting face in the library, which I had only seen on 
 canvas, but which was to me a breathing reality, that face 
 which, even on the cold, silent wall, had no repose ; but dark, 
 restless, and impassioned, was either a history of past disappoint 
 ment, or a prophecy of future suffering. 
 
 The moment of triumph was brief. A pale shadow seemed 
 to flit behind me and dim the bright image reflected in the 
 mirror. It wore the sad, yet lovely lineaments of my departed 
 mother. 
 
 O how vain were youth and beauty, if thus they faded and 
 vanished away ! How mournful was love thus wedded to sor 
 row ! how mysterious the nature in which they were united ! 
 
 A shower of tears washed away the vain emotions I blushed 
 to have felt. But I could not be as though I had never known 
 them. I could not recall the guileless simplicity of childhood, 
 its sweet unconsciousness and contentment, in the present joy. 
 
 O foolish, foolish Gabriella ! Art thou no longer a child ? 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MR. Regains still called me " child." We had quite a scene 
 in the academy one day after the school was dismissed, and I 
 was preparing as usual to return home. 
 
 " Will you give me a few moments conversation, Miss 
 Gabriella ? " said he, clearing his throat with one of those hems 
 which once sounded so awful. He looked awkward and dis 
 concerted, while my face flushed with trepidation. Had I been 
 guilty of any omitted duty or committed offence? Had I 
 suffered an error on the blackboard to pass unnoticed, or 
 allowed a mistake in grammar to be unconnected ? What had 
 I done ? 
 
 I stood nervously pulling the fingers of my gloves, waiting 
 for him to commence the conversation he had sought. Another 
 hem ! then he moved the inkstand about a foot further from 
 him, for he was standing close to his desk, as if to gather round 
 him every imposing circumstance, then he took up the ruler and 
 measured it with his eye, run his finger along the edge, as if it 
 were of razor sharpness. 
 
 "Is he going to punish me?" thought I. "It looks omi 
 nous." 
 
 I would not assist him by one word ; but maintaining a pro 
 voking silence, took up a pair of compasses and made a circle 
 on the green cloth that covered the desk. 
 
 " Miss Gabriella," at length he said, " you must forgive me 
 for taking the liberty of an old friend. Nothing but the most 
 disinterested regard for your your reputation could induce 
 me to mention a subject so so very very peculiar." 
 (82) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 83 
 
 " Good heavens ! " I exclaimed, " my reputation, Mr. Regu- 
 lus ? " 
 
 I felt the blood bubbling like boiling water, up into my 
 cheek. 
 
 " I do not wish to alarm or distress you," he continued, be 
 coming more self-possessed, as my agitation increased. " You 
 know a young girl, left without her natural guardians, especial 
 ly if she is so unfortunate as to be endowed with those charms 
 which too often attract the shafts of envy and stir up the 
 venom of malice," 
 
 " Mr. Regulus ! " I interrupted, burning with impatience and 
 indignation, " tell me what you mean. Has any one dared to 
 slander me, and for what ? " 
 
 " No one would dare to breathe aught of evil against you in 
 my presence," said he, with great dignity ; " but the covert 
 whisper may pass from lip to lip, and the meaning glance flash 
 from eye to eye, when your friend and protector is not 
 near to shield you from aspersion, and vindicate your fame." 
 
 " Stop," I exclaimed ; " you terrify you destroy me ! " 
 
 The room spun round like a top. Every thing looked misty 
 and black. I caught hold of Mr. Regulus s arm to keep me 
 from falling. Foes in ambush, glittering tomahawks, deadly 
 acalping-knives, were less terrible than my dark imaginings. 
 
 " Bless me," cried my master, seating me in his great arm- 
 jhair and fanning me with an atlas which he caught from his 
 -Jesk, " I did not mean to frighten you, my child. I wanted to 
 advise, to counsel you, to prevent misconstruction and unkind 
 remark. My motives are pure, indeed they are ; you believe 
 they are, do you not ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do," I answered, passing my hand over my 
 eyes, to clear away the dark specks that still floated over them ; 
 " but if you have any regard for my feelings, speak at once, 
 plainly and openly. I will be grateful for any advice prompted 
 by kindness, and expressed without mystery." 
 
 " I only thought," said he, becoming again visibly embar 
 rassed, " that I would suggest the propriety of your not per 
 Clyde to accompany you home so often. The 
 
84 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 extraordinary interest he took in you as a boy, renders his 
 present attentions more liable to remark. A young girl in 
 your situation, my child, cannot be too particular, too much on 
 her guard. College boys are wild fellows. They are not safe 
 companions for innocence and simplicity like yours." 
 
 " And is this all ? " I asked, drawing a long breath, and feel 
 ing as if Mont Blanc had rolled from my breast. 
 
 It is." 
 
 " And you have heard no invidious remarks ? " 
 
 " Not yet, Gabriella, but " 
 
 " My dear master," said I, rising with a joyous spring from 
 my chair. " I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your 
 anxious care of my good name. But I am sure Mrs. Linwood 
 would not have sanctioned an impropriety. I have always felt 
 towards llichard as I imagine I would towards a brother, were 
 I so blest as to have one. He has made my lonely walks very 
 pleasant by his lively and intelligent conversation. Still, I do 
 not care to have him accompany me so often. I would rather 
 that he would not. I will tell him so. I dare say you are 
 right, Mr. Regulus ; I know you are. I know so little of the 
 world, I may offend its rules without being aware of it." 
 
 I felt so unspeakably relieved, so happy that the mountain 
 of slander which my imagination had piled up was reduced to 
 an antici2)ated molehill, that my spirits rebounded even to 
 gaiety. I laughed at the sight of my torn glove, for I had actu 
 ally pulled off the fingers by my nervous twitches. 
 
 " I thought you were going to apply the spatula. I feared 
 you thought me guilty of writing another poem, Mr. Regulus ; 
 what else could make you look so formidable ? " 
 
 "Ah! Gabriella, let bygones be bygones. I was very 
 harsh, very disagreeable then. I wonder you have ever for 
 given me ; I have never forgiven myself. I know not how it 
 is, but it seems to me that a softening change has come over me. 
 I feel more tenderly towards the young beings committed to my 
 care, more indulgence for the weaknesses and errors of my kind. 
 I did not mind, then, trampling on a flower, if it sprung up in 
 my path ; now I would stoop down and inhale its fragrance, 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 85 
 
 and bless my Maker for shedding beauty and sweetness to 
 gladden my way. The perception of the beautiful grows and 
 strengthens in me. The love of nature, a new-born flower, 
 blooms in my heart, and diffuses a sweet balminess unknown 
 before. Even poetry, my child do not laugh at me has 
 begun to unfold its mystic beauties to my imagination. I was 
 reading the other evening that charming paraphrase of the 
 nineteenth Psalm : The spacious firmament on high, and I 
 was exceedingly struck with its melodious rhythm ; and when 
 I looked up afterwards to the starry heavens, to the moon walk 
 ing in her brightness, to the blue and boundless ether, they 
 seemed to bend over me in love, to come nearer than they had 
 ever done before. I could hear the whisper of that divine 
 voice, which is heard in the rustling of the forest trees, the 
 gurgling of the winding stream, and the rush of the mountain 
 cataract ; and every day," he added, with solemnity, " I love 
 man more, because God has made him my brother." 
 
 He paused, and his countenance glowed with the fervor of his 
 feelings. With an involuntary expression of reverence and ten 
 derness, I held out my hand and exclaimed, 
 
 " My dear master " 
 
 " You forgive me, then," taking my hand in both his, and 
 burying it in his large palms ; " you do not think me officious 
 and overbearing ? " 
 
 " O no, sir, I have nothing to forgive, but much to be grate 
 ful for ; thank you, I must go, for I have a long walk to take 
 alone" 
 
 With an emphasis on the last word I bade him adieu, ran 
 down the steps, and went on musing so deeply on my singular 
 interview with Mr. Regulus, that I attempted to walk through 
 a tree by the way-side. A merry laugh rang close to my ear, 
 and Richard Clyde sprang over the fence right before me. 
 
 " It should have opened and imprisoned you, as a truant 
 dryad," said he. " Of what are you thinking, Gabriella, that 
 you forget the impenetrability of matter, the opacity of bark, 
 and the incapability of flesh and blood to cleave asunder the 
 
 8 
 
86 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 ligneous fibres which oppose it, as the sonorous Johnson would 
 have observed on a similar occasion." 
 
 "I was thinking of you, Richard," I answered with resolute 
 frankness. 
 
 " Of me ! " he exclaimed, while his eyes sparkled with ani 
 mated pleasure. " Oh, walk through all the trees of Grandison 
 Place, if you will honor me with one passing thought." 
 
 " You know you have always been like a brother to me, 
 Richard." 
 
 " I do n t know exactly how a brother feels. You have taken 
 my fraternal regard for granted, but I am sure I have never 
 professed any." 
 
 " Pardon me, if I have believed actions more expressive 
 than words. I shall never commit a similar error." 
 
 "With deeply wounded and indignant feelings, I walked rap 
 idly on, without deigning to look at one so heartless and capri 
 cious. Mr. Regulus was right. He was not a proper com 
 panion. I would never allow him to walk with me again. 
 
 " Are you not familiar enough with my light, mocking way, 
 Gabriella ? " he cried, keeping pace with my accelerated steps. 
 " Do not you know me well enough to understand when I am 
 serious and when jesting? I have never professed fraternal 
 regard, because I know a brother cannot feel half the the 
 interest for you that I do. I thought you knew it, I dare 
 not say more, I cannot say less." 
 
 " No, no, do not say any more," said I, shrinking with inde 
 finable dread ; " I do not want any professions. I meant not to 
 call them forth. If I alluded to you as a brother, it was be 
 cause I wished to speak to you with the frankness of a sister. 
 It is better that you should not walk with me from school, 
 it is not proper, people will make remarks." 
 
 " "Well, let them make them, who cares ? " 
 
 " I care, a great deal. I will not be the subject of village 
 gossip." 
 
 "Who put this idea in your head, Gabriella? I know it did 
 not originate there. You are too artless, too unsuspicious. 
 
E R N K S T LI N W O O D . 87 
 
 Oh ! I know," lie added, with a heightened color and a raised 
 tone, " you have been kept after school ; you have had a lecture 
 on propriety ; you cannot deny it." 
 
 " I neither deny nor affirm any thing. It makes no differ 
 ence who suggested it. My own judgment tells me it is right." 
 
 " The old fellow is jealous," said he with a laugh of derision, 
 "but he cannot control my movements. The road is wide 
 enough for us both, and the world is wider still." 
 
 " Plow can you say any thing so absurd and ridiculous ? " I 
 exclaimed ; and vexed as I was, I could not help laughing at his 
 preposterous suggestion. 
 
 " Because I know it is the truth. But I really thought you 
 above the fear of village gossip, Gabriella. Why, it is more 
 idle than the passing wind, lighter than the down of the gossa 
 mer. I thought you had a noble independence of character, 
 incapable of being moved by a whiff of breath, a puff of 
 empty air." 
 
 " I trust I have sufficient independence to do what is right, 
 and sufficient prudence to avoid, if possible, the imputation of 
 wrong," I replied, with grave earnestness. 
 
 "Oh! upright judge! oh! excellent young sage!" ex 
 claimed Richard, with mock reverence. " Wisdom becometh 
 thee so well, I shall be tempted to quarrel hereafter with thy 
 smiles. But seriously, Gabriella, I crave permission to walk 
 courteously home with you this evening, for it is the last of my 
 vacation. To-morrow I leave you, and it will be months before 
 we meet again." 
 
 " I might have spared you and myself this foolish scene, 
 then," said I, deeply mortified at its result. " I have incurred 
 your ridicule, perhaps your contempt, in vain. We might have 
 parted friends, at least." 
 
 " No, by heavens ! Gabriella, not friends ; we must be some 
 thing more, or less than friends. I did not think to say this 
 now, but I can hold it back no longer. And why should I? 
 4 All my faults perchance thou knowest. As was the boy, as 
 is the youth, so most likely will be the man. No ! if you 
 
88 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 love me, Gabriella, if I may look forward to the day when I 
 shall be to you friend, brother, guardian, lover, all in one, 
 I shall have such a motive for excellence, such a spring to am 
 bition, that I will show the world the pattern of a man, such as 
 they never saw before." 
 
 " I wish you had not said this," I answered, averting from 
 his bright and earnest eye my confused and troubled glance. 
 " We should be so much happier as friends. We are so young, 
 too. It will be time enough years hence to talk of such 
 things." 
 
 " Too young to love ! We are in the very spring-time of 
 our life, the season of blossoms and fragrance, music and 
 love, oh, daughter of poetry ! is it you who utter such a 
 thought ? Would you wait for the sultry summer, the dry 
 autumn, to cultivate the morning flower of Paradise ? " 
 
 " I did not dream you had so much hidden romance," said I, 
 smiling at his metaphorical language, and endeavoring to turn 
 the conversation in a new channel. " I thought you mocked at 
 sentiment and poetic raptures." 
 
 " Love works miracles, Gabriella. You do not answer. 
 You evade the subject on which all my life s future depends. 
 Is there no chord in your heart that vibrates in harmony with 
 mine ? Are there no memories associated with the oak trees 
 of the wood, the mossy stone at the fountain, the sacred rose of 
 the grave, propitious to my early and ever-growing love ? " 
 
 He spoke with a depth of feeling of which I had never 
 thought him possessed. Sincerity and truth dignified every 
 look and tone. Yes ! there were undying memories, now 
 wakened in all their strength, of the youthful champion of my 
 injured rights, the sympathizing companion of my darkest hours ; 
 the friend, who stood by me when other friends were unknown. 
 There was many a responsive chord that thrilled at his voice, 
 and there was another note, a sweet triumphant note never 
 struck before. The new-born consciousness of woman s power, 
 the joy of being beloved, the regal sense of newly acquired 
 dominion swelled in my bosom and flashed from my eye. But 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 89 
 
 the master-chord was silent. I knew, I felt even then, that 
 there was a golden string, clown in the very depths of my 
 heart, too deep for his hand to touch. 
 
 I felt grieved and glad. Grieved that I could not give a full 
 response to his generous offering, glad that I had capacities 
 of loving, he, with all his excellences, could never fill. I tried 
 to tell him what I felt, to express friendship, gratitude, and 
 esteem ; but he would not hear me, he would not let me go 
 on. 
 
 " No, no ; say nothing now," said he impetuously. " I have 
 been premature. You do not know your own heart. You do 
 lore., jne, -~- you will love me. You must not, you shall not 
 deny me the privilege of hope. I will maintain the vantage 
 ground on which I stand, first friend, first lover, and even 
 Ernest Linwood cannot drive me from it." 
 
 " Ernest Linwood ! " I exclaimed, startled and indignant. 
 11 You know he can never be any thing to me. You know my 
 immeasurable obligations to his mother. His name shall be 
 sacred from levity." 
 
 " It is. He is the last person whom I would lightly name. 
 He has brilliant talents and a splendid position ; but woe to the 
 woman who places her happiness in his keeping. He confides 
 in no one, so the world describes him, is jealous and sus 
 picious even in friendship ; what would he be in love ? " 
 
 " I know not. I care not, only for his mother s and 
 Edith s sake. Again I say, he is nothing to me. Richard, you 
 trouble me very much by your strange way of talking. You 
 have no idea how you have made my head ache. Please speak 
 of common subjects, for I would not meet Mrs. Linwood so 
 troubled, so agitated, for any consideration. See how beautiful 
 the sunlight falls on the lawn ! Plow graceful that white cloud 
 floats down the golden west ! As Wilson says : 
 
 Even in its very motion there is rest. " 
 
 " Yes ! the sunlight is very beautiful, and the cloud is very 
 graceful, and you are beautiful and graceful in your dawning 
 coquetry, the more so because you know it not. Well obedi- 
 
 8* 
 
90 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 ence to-day, reward to-morrow, Gabriella. That was one of 
 my old copies at the academy." 
 
 " I remember another, which was a favorite of Mr. Regu- 
 lus 
 
 To-morrow never yet 
 On any human being rose and set. " 
 
 A few more light repartees, and we were at Mrs. Linwood s 
 gate. 
 
 " You will not come in ? " said I, half asserting, half interro 
 gating. 
 
 " To be sure I will. Edith promised me some of her angelic 
 harp music. I come like Saul to have the evil spirit of discon 
 tent subdued by its divine influence." 
 
 Richard was a favorite of Mrs. Linwood. Whether it was 
 that by a woman s intuition she discovered the state of feeling 
 existing between us, or whether it was his approaching depart 
 ure, she was especially kind to him this evening ; she expressed 
 a more than usual interest in his future prospects. 
 
 " This is your last year in college," I heard her say to him. 
 " In a few months you will feel the dignity and responsibility 
 of manhood. You w r ill come out from the seclusion of college 
 life into the wide, wide world, and of its myriad paths, so intri 
 cate, yet so trodden, you must choose one. You are looking 
 forward now, eagerly, impatiently, but then you will pause and 
 tremble. I pity the young man when he first girds himself for 
 the real duties of life. The change from thought to action, from 
 dreams to realities, from hope to fruition or disappointment, is 
 so sudden, so great, he requires the wisdom which is only 
 bought by experience, the strength gained only by exercise. 
 But it is well," she added, with great expression, "it is well as 
 it is. If youth could command the experience of age, it would 
 lose the enthusiasm and zeal necessary for the conception of 
 great designs ; it would lose the brightness, the energy of hope, 
 and nothing would be attempted, because every thing would be 
 thought in vain. I did not mean to give you an essay," she 
 said, smiling at her own earnestness, " but a young friend 
 on the threshold of manhood is deeply interesting to me. I 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 91 
 
 feel constrained to give him my best counsels, my fervent 
 prayers." 
 
 " Thank you, dear Madam, a thousand times," he answered, 
 his countenance lighted up with grateful pleasure ; " you do not 
 know what inspiration there is in the conviction that we are 
 cared for by the pure and the good. Selfish as we are, there 
 are few of us who strive to excel for ourselves alone. We must 
 feel that there are some hearts, who bear us in remembrance, 
 who will exult in our successes, and be made happier by our 
 virtues." 
 
 He forgot himself, and though he addressed Mrs. Linwood, 
 his eye sought mine, while uttering the closing words. I was 
 foolish enough to blush at his glance, and still more at the 
 placid, intelligent smile of Mrs. Linwood. It seemed to say, 
 
 " I understand it all ; it is all right, just as it should be. 
 There is no danger of Richard s being forgotten." 
 
 I was provoked by Tier smile, his glance, and my own foolish 
 blush. As for him, he really did seem inspired. He talked of 
 the profession he had chosen as the noblest and the best, a pro 
 fession which had commanded the most exalted talents and 
 most magnificent geniuses in the world. He was not holy 
 enough for the ministry ; he had too great reverence and regard 
 for human life to be a physician ; but he believed nature had 
 created him for a lawyer, for that much abused, yet glorious 
 being, an honest lawyer. 
 
 I suppose I must have been nervous, in consequence of the 
 exciting scenes through which I had passed, but there was 
 something in his florid eloquence, animated gestures, and evi 
 dent desire to make a grand impression, that strangely affected 
 my risibles ; I had always thought him so natural before. I 
 tried to keep from laughing ; I compressed my lips, and turn 
 ing my head, looked steadily from the window, but a sudden 
 stammering, then a pause, showed that my unconquerable rude 
 ness was observed. I was sobered at once, but dared not look 
 round, lest I should meet Mrs. Linwood s reproving glance. 
 He soon after asked Edith for a parting song, and while listen 
 ing to her sweet voice, as it mingled with the breezy strains of 
 
92 E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 
 
 the harp, my excited spirit recovered its equilibrium. I thought, 
 with regret and pain, of the levity, so unwonted in me, which 
 had wounded a heart so frank and true, and found as much 
 difficulty in keeping back my tears, as a moment before I had 
 done my laughter. 
 
 As soon as Edith had finished her song, he rose to take leave. 
 He came to me last, to the little recess in the window where I 
 stood, and extended his hand as he had done to Mrs. Linwood 
 and Edith. He looked hurt rather than angry, disappointed 
 rather than sad. 
 
 " Forgive me," said I, in a low voice ; " I value your friend 
 ship too much to lose it without an effort." 
 
 The tears were in my eyes; I could not help it. I was 
 sorry, for they expressed far more than I meant to convey. I 
 knew it at once by the altered, beaming expression of his coun 
 tenance. 
 
 " Give me smiles or tears, dear Gabriella," he answered, in 
 the same undertone ; " only do not forget me, only think of me 
 as I wish to be remembered." 
 
 He pressed my hand warmly, energetically, while uttering 
 these words ; then, without giving me time to reply, bowed 
 again to Mrs. Linwood and left the room. 
 
 "A very fine, promising young man," said Mrs. Linwood, 
 with emphasis. 
 
 " A most intelligent, agreeable companion," added the gentle 
 Edith, looking smilingly at me, as if expecting me to say some 
 thing. 
 
 " Very," responded I, in a constrained manner. 
 
 " Is that all ? " she asked, laying her soft, white hand on my 
 shoulders, and looking archly in my face ; " is that all, Gabri 
 ella?" 
 
 " Indeed, you are mistaken," said I, hastily ; " he is nothing 
 more, and yet I am wrong to say that, he has been, he 
 is like a brother to me, Edith, and never will be any thing more." 
 
 " Oh, these brother friends ! " she exclaimed, with a burst of 
 musical laughter, " how very near they seem ! But wait, Ga 
 briella, till you see my brother, he is one to boast of." 
 
EKNESTLINWOOD. 93 
 
 " Edith ! " said her mother. Edith turned her blue eyes 
 from me to her mother, with a look of innocent surprise. The 
 tone seemed intended to check her, yet what had she said ? 
 
 " You should not raise expectations in Gabriella which will 
 not be realized," observed Mrs. Linwood, in that quiet tone of 
 hers which had so much power. " Ernest, however dear he may 
 be to us as a son and brother, has peculiar traits which some 
 times repel the admiration of strangers. His impenetrable 
 reserve chills the warmth of enthusiasm, while the fitfulness 
 of his morals produces constant inquietude. He was born un 
 der a clouded star, and the horoscope of his destiny is darkened 
 by its influence." 
 
 " I love him better for his lights and shadows," said Edith, 
 " he keeps one always thinking of him." 
 
 When would this shadowy, flashing being appear, " who 
 kept one always thinking of him ? " 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 As I had made an engagement with Mr. Regulus for one 
 year, I remained with Dr. Harlowe s family during the winter 
 months, while Mrs. Linwood and Edith returned to the city. 
 
 The only novelty of that wintry season was the first corre 
 spondence of my life. Could any thing prove more strikingly 
 my isolated position in the world than this single fact? It was 
 quite an era in my existence when I received Mrs. Linwood s 
 and Edith s first letters ; and when I answered them, it seemed 
 to me my heart was flowing out in a gushing stream of expres 
 sion, that had long sought vent. I knew they must have 
 smiled at my exuberance of language, for the young enthusiast 
 always luxuriates under epistolary influences. I had another 
 correspondent, a very unexpected one, Richard Clyde, who, 
 sanctioned by Mrs. Linwood, begged permission to write to me 
 as a friend. How could I refuse, when Mrs. Linwood said it 
 would be a source of intellectual improvement as well as pleas 
 ure ? These letters occupied much of my leisure time, and 
 were escape-pipes to an imagination of the high-pressure kind. 
 My old love of rhyming, too, rose from the ashes of former 
 humiliation, and JLjmYe many a garland of poe^y, though no 
 one but myself inhaled their fragrance or admired their bloom. 
 
 "As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean, 
 Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can sec, " 
 
 So in the solitude of my chamber, in the loneliness of my 
 heart, in the breathing stillness of the night, blossomed the 
 moon-born flowers of poesy, to beautify and gladden my youth. 
 Thus glided away the last tranquil season of my life. As 
 (9-i) 
 
ERNESTLINWOOD. 95 
 
 was one day, so was the next. Mrs. Harlowe s clock-work 
 virtues, which never run down, the doctor s agreeable careless 
 ness and imperturbable good-humor, the exceeding kindness 
 of Mr. Regulus, who grew so gentle, that he almost seemed 
 melancholy, all continued the same. In reading, writing, 
 thinking, feeling, hoping, reaching forward to an uncertain fu 
 ture, the season of fireside enjoyments and comforts passed, 
 spring, summer. Mrs. Linwood and Edith returned, and 
 I was once more installed in that charming apartment, amid 
 whose rosy decorations " I seemed," as Edith said, " a fairy 
 queen." I walked once more in the moon-lighted colonnade, 
 in the shadow of the granite walls, and felt that I was born to 
 be there. 
 
 One evening as I returned home, I saw Edith coming through 
 the lawn to meet me, so rapidly that she seemed borne on 
 wings, her white drapery fell in such full folds over her 
 crutches it entirely concealed them, and they made no sound on 
 the soft, thick grass. Her face was perfectly radiant. 
 
 "Oh, Gabriella," she exclaimed, "he is coming, brother is 
 coming home, he will be here in less than a week, oh ! I 
 am so happy ! " 
 
 And the sweet, affectionate creature leaned her head on my 
 shoulder, and actually sobbed in the fulness of her joy. My 
 own heart palpitated with strange emotions, with mingled curi 
 osity, eagerness, and dread. 
 
 " Dear Edith," I cried, putting my arms around her, and kiss- 
 *ng her fair, infantine cheek, " I rejoice with you, I could 
 envy you if I dared. What a blessing it must be to have a 
 brother capable of inspiring so much love ! * 
 
 " He shall be your brother too, Gabriella ! For, are you 
 not my sister ? and of course he must be your brother. Come, 
 let us sit down under the dear old elm and talk about him, for 
 my heart is so full that I can speak and think of nothing else." 
 
 " And now," added she, as we sat under the kingly canopy 
 of verdure, on a carpet of living velvet, " let me tell you 
 why I love Ernest so very, very dearly. My father died when 
 I was a little child, a little feeble child, a cripple as well as an 
 
96 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 invalid. Ernest is four years older than myself, and though 
 when I was a little child he was but a very young boy, he al 
 ways seemed a protector and guardian to me. He never cared 
 about play like other children, loving his book better than any 
 thing else, but willing to leave even that to amuse and gratify 
 me. Oh ! I used to suffer so much, so dreadfully, I could 
 not lie down, I could not sit up without pain, no medicine 
 would give me any relief. Hour after hour would Ernest hold 
 me in his arms, and carry me about in the open air, never own 
 ing he was weary while he could give me one moment s ease. 
 No one thought I would live beyond childhood, and I have no 
 doubt many believed that death would be a blessing to the poor, 
 crippled child. They did not know how dear life was to me in 
 spite of all my sufferings ; for had I always been well, I never 
 should have known those tender, cherishing cares which have 
 filled my heart with so much love. It is so sweet to be petted 
 and caressed as I have been ! " 
 
 " It did not need sickness and suffering to make you beloved, 
 Edith," I cried, twisting my fingers in her soft, golden curls. 
 " Who could help loving you and wishing to caress you ? " 
 
 " Yes it did, Gabriella ; my Heavenly Father knew that it 
 did, or He would never have laid upon me His chastening hand. 
 Sickness and pain have been my only chastisements, and they 
 are all past. I am not very strong, but I am well ; and though 
 a cripple, my wooden feet serve me wonderfully well. I am so 
 used to them now, they seem a part of myself." 
 
 "I can never think of you as walking," I said, taking one of 
 the crutches that leaned against the tree. The part which 
 fitted under the arm was covered with a cushion of blue velvet, 
 and the rosewood staff was mounted with silver. " You man 
 age these so gracefully, one scarcely misses your feet." 
 
 " But Ernest, dear Ernest," interrupted she, " let us talk of 
 him. You must not be influenced too much by my mother s 
 words. She adores him, but her standard of perfection is so ex 
 alted few can attain it. The very excess of her love makes her 
 alive to his defects. She knows your vivid imagination, and 
 fears my lavish praises will lead you to expect a being of super- 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 97 
 
 human excellence. Oh, another thing I wanted to tell you. 
 ~The~ uncle, for whom he was named, has died and left him a 
 splendid fortune, which he did not need very much, you know. 
 Had it not been for this circumstance, he would not have come 
 back till autumn ; and now he will be here in a week, in 
 less than a week. Oh, Gabriella, Grandison Place must shine 
 for its master s welcome." 
 
 Another splendid fortune added to his own ! Further and 
 further still, seemed he removed from me. But what difference 
 did it make ? Why did I think of him in reference to myself? 
 How dared I do it, foolish and presumptuous girl ! Then, he 
 was seven years older than myself. How mature ! He would 
 probably look upon me as a little girl ; and if he granted me the 
 honors of womanhood, the student of Gottingen, the heir of 
 two great fortunes would scarcely notice the village teacher, 
 save as the orphan protegee of his mother. 
 
 I did not indulge these thoughts. I repelled them, for they 
 were selfish and uncomfortable. If every one recorded their 
 thoughts as I do, would they not, like me, pray for the blotting 
 angel s tears ? 
 
 In one week ! How soon ! 
 
 Mrs. Linwood, quiet and serene as she was, participated in 
 Edith s joyful excitement. She departed from her usual reli 
 ance on the subject, and checked not Edith s glowing warmth. 
 
 In a family so wealthy, a dwelling so abounding in all the 
 elegancies and luxuries of life, the coming of a prince would 
 not have occasioned any necessary disturbance. The chamber 
 of the son and brother had been long prepared, but now the 
 fastidious eye of affection discovered many deficiencies. The 
 pictures must be changed in position ; some wanted more, some 
 less light ; the curtains were too heavy, the flower vases too 
 gorgeous. 
 
 " Does he mind these things much ? " I ventured to ask. 
 
 "JHe likes to see every thing round him elegant and classic," 
 replied Edith ; " he has the most fastidious taste in the world. 
 I am so glad, Gabriella, that you are pretty, that you are really 
 classically beautiful, for he will think so much more of you for 
 
 9 
 
98 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 being so. He ought not, perhaps ; but one cannot help having 
 a fine taste. He cannot abide any thing coarse or unrefined." 
 
 " He will not think of me at all, I am sure he will not," I 
 answered, while a vivid blush of pleasure at her sweet flattery 
 stole over my cheek. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IT was my office to gather and arrange the flowers, to adorn 
 the mansion, in consequence of Edith s lameness. This I did 
 every morning while they were sparkling with dew and the 
 fragrance of night still imprisoned in their folded petals. I 
 delighted in the task ; but now I could not help feeling unusual 
 solicitude about my floral mission. I rose earlier than usual, 
 and made fearful havoc in the garden and the green-house. 
 My apron dripped with blossoms every step I took, and the 
 carpet was literally strewed with flowers. The fairest and 
 sweetest were selected for the room not yet occupied ; and though 
 one day after another passed away and he came not, the scent 
 of the blossoms lingered in the apartment, and diffusing in it 
 an atmosphere of home love, prepared it for the wanderer s 
 return. 
 
 Every afternoon the carriage was sent to the depot, which 
 was several miles from Grandison Place, to meet the traveller, 
 and again and again it returned empty. 
 
 " Let us go ourselves," said Mrs. Linwood, beginning to be 
 restless and anxious. And they went she and Edith. Though 
 it was Saturday and I was free, I did not accompany them, for 
 I felt that a stranger to him should not " intermeddle with their 
 
 joy." 
 
 Partaking of the restlessness of baffled expectation, I could 
 not fix my mind on any occupation. I seated myself in the 
 window recess and began to read, but my eyes were constantly 
 wandering to the road, watching for the dust cloud that would 
 roll before the advancing carriage. Dissatisfied with myself, I 
 strolled out on the lawn, and seating myself on the rustic 
 
 (99) 
 
100 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 bench with my back to the gate, resolutely fastened my eyes to 
 the pages I had been vainly fluttering. 
 
 Shall I tell how foolish I had been ? Though I said to my 
 self a hundred times, " he will not look at me, or notice me at 
 all," I had taken unusual pains with my dress, which though 
 still characterized with the simplicity of mourning, was relieved 
 of its severity of outline. A fall of lace softened the bands of 
 the neck and arms, which were embellished by a necklace and 
 bracelets, which I valued more than any earthly possession 
 They were the gift of Mrs. Linwood, who, having won from 
 the grave a portion of my mother s beautiful dark hair, had it 
 wrought with exquisite skill, and set in massy gold, as memo 
 rials of love stronger than death. Thus doubly precious, I 
 cherished them as holy amulets, made sacred by the living as 
 well as the dead. Edith had woven in my hair some scarlet 
 geraniums, my favorite flower. Though not very elaborately 
 adorned, I had an impression I was looking my best, and I 
 could not help thinking while I sat half veiled by foliage, half 
 gilded by lijht, how romantic it would be, if a magnificent 
 stranger should suddenly approach and as suddenly draw back, 
 on seeing my dark, waving hair, instead of the golden locks of 
 Edith. I became so absorbed in painting this little scene, 
 which enlarged and glowed under the pencil of imagination, 
 that I did not hear the opening of the gate or footsteps crossing 
 the lawn. I thought a shadow passed over the sunshine. The 
 figure of a stranger stood between me and the glowing west. 
 I started up with an irrepressible exclamation. I knew, at the 
 n&rst glance, that it was Ernest Linwood, the living embodiment 
 of that haunting image, so long drawn on my youthful fancy. 
 I should have known him in the farthest isles of the ocean, 
 from the painting in the library, the descriptions of Edith, and 
 /the sketches of my own imagination. His complexion had the 
 qpale, transparent darkness of eastern climes, and his eye a 
 kind of shadowy splendor, impossible to describe, but which 
 reminded me at once of his mother s similitude of the " clouded 
 star." He was not above the common height of man, yet he 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 101 
 
 gave me an impression of power and dignity, such as mere 
 physical force could never inspire. 
 
 " Is this Grandison Place ? my home ? " he asked, lifting 
 his hat with gentlemanly grace from his brows. His voice, too, 
 had that cultivated, well-modulated tone, which always marks 
 the gentleman. 
 
 " It is, sir," I answered, trying to speak without embarrass 
 ment. " Mr. Linwood, I presume." 
 
 I thought I had made a mistake in his name, it sounded so 
 strange. I had never heard him called any thing but Ernest 
 Linwood, and Mr. Linwood had such a stiff, formal sound, I was 
 quite disgusted with it. 
 
 He again bowed, and looked impatiently towards the house. 
 
 " I saw a young female and thought it might be my sister, or 
 I should not have intruded. Shall I find her, shall I find my 
 mother within ? " 
 
 " They have gone to meet you, they have been looking 
 for you these many days ; I know not how you have missed 
 them." 
 
 " By coming another road. I jumped from the carriage and 
 walked on, too impatient to wait its slow motions in ascending 
 the hill. And they have gone to meet me. They really wish 
 to see me back again ! " 
 
 He spoke with deep feeling. The home thoughts and affec 
 tions of years thrilled from his tone. This seemed one of those 
 self-evident truths, that required no confirmation, and I made 
 no answer. I wondered if I ought to ask him to walk in, 
 him, the master and the heir ; whether I should ask him to take 
 a seat on the oaken settee, where he could watch the carriage, 
 ascending the winding hill. 
 
 " Do not let me disturb you," he said, looking at me with a 
 questioning, penetrating glance, then added, " am I guilty of 
 the rudeness of not recognizing a former acquaintance, who has 
 passed from childhood to youth, during my years of absence ? " 
 
 " No, sir," I answered, again wondering if politeness required 
 me to introduce myself. " I am a stranger to you, though for 
 
 9* 
 
102 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 two years your mother s home has been mine. My name is 
 Lynn, -r- Gabriella Lynn." 
 
 I was vexed with myself for this awkward introduction. I 
 did not know what I ought to say, and painful blushes dyed my 
 cheeks. I would not have mentioned my name at all, only, if 
 his mother and sister delayed their coming, he might feel awk 
 ward himself, from not knowing what to call me. 
 
 " My mother s protegee ! " said he, his countenance lighten 
 ing as he spoke. " Edith has mentioned you in her letters ; but 
 I expected to see a little girl, not the young lady, whom I find 
 presiding genius here." 
 
 My self-respect was gratified that he did not look upon me as a 
 child, and there was something so graceful and unostentatious in 
 his air and manner, my self-possession came back without an 
 effort to recall it. 
 
 " Will you walk in ? " I asked, now convinced it was right. 
 
 " Thank you ; I am so weary of the confinement of the car 
 riage, I like the freedom of the open air. _ I like this rich, vel 
 vet grass. How beautiful, how magnificent ! " he exclaimed, 
 his eye taking in the wide sweep of landscape, here and there 
 darkened with shade, and at intervals literally blazing with 
 the crimson sunlight, then sweeping on over the swelling 
 mountains, so grand in their purple drapery and" golden crowns. 
 "How exquisitely beautiful ! My mother could not have 
 selected a lovelier spot, and these old granite walls ! how 
 antique, how classic they are ! " 
 
 He turned and examined them, with a pleased yet criticizing 
 eye. He walked up and down the velvet lawn with a firm, yet 
 restless step, stopping occasionally to measure with his glance 
 the towering oaks and the gigantic elm. I began to be uneasy 
 at the protracted absence of Mrs. Linwood, and kept my eyes 
 fixed upon the road, whose dark, rich, slatish-colored surface, 
 seen winding through green margins, resembled a stream of 
 deep water, it was so smooth and uniform. I knew how full 
 must be the heart of the traveller. I did not wish to interrupt 
 his meditations even by a look. 
 
 We saw it coming, the family carriage. I saw his pale 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 103 
 
 cheek flush at my joyous exclamation. He moved rapidly to 
 wards the gate, while I ran into the house, up stairs and into 
 my own room, that I might not intrude on moments too sacred 
 for curiosity. 
 
 In a little while, I could hear the sound of their mingling 
 voices coming up the long flight of marble steps, across the 
 wide piazza, and then they came soft and muffled from the 
 drawing-room below. At first, forgetful of self, I sympathized 
 in their joy. I rejoiced for my benefactress, I rejoiced for the 
 tender and affectionate Edith. But after sitting there a long 
 time alone, and of course forgotten in the rapture of this family 
 reunion, thoughts of self began to steal over and chill the ardor 
 of my sympathetic emotions. I could not help feeling myself 
 a mote in the dazzling sunshine of their happiness. I could 
 not help experiencing, in all its bitterness, the isolation of my 
 own destiny. I remembered the lamentation of the aged and 
 solitary Indian, " that not a drop of his blood flowed in the veins 
 of a living being." So it was with me. To my knowledge, I 
 had not a living relative. Friends were kind, some were 
 more than kind ; but oh ! there are capacities for love friends 
 can never fill. There are niches in the temple of the heart made 
 for household gods, and if they are left vacant, no other images, 
 though of the splendor of the Grecian statuary, can remove its 
 desolation. Deep calleth unto deep, and when no answer cometh, 
 the waves beat against the lonely strand and murmur them 
 selves away. 
 
 I tried to check all selfish, repining feelings. I tried to keep 
 from envying Edith, but I could not. 
 
 " O that I, too, had a brother ! " 
 
 Was the cry of my craving heart, and it would not be stilled. 
 I wiped away tear after tear, resolving each should be the last, 
 but the fountain was full, and every heaving sigh made it over 
 flow. 
 
 At length I heard the sound of Edith s crutches on the stairs, 
 faint and muffled, but I knew it from all other sounds. She 
 could mount and descend the stairs as lightly as a bird, in spite 
 of her infirmity. 
 
104 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " All ! truant ! " she cried, as she opened the door, " you 
 need not think to hide yourself here all night ; we want you to 
 come and help us to be happy, for I am so happy I know not 
 what to do." 
 
 Her eyes sparkled most brilliantly through those drops of 
 joy, as different to the tears I had been shedding as the morn 
 ing dew is to December s wintry rain. 
 
 " But what are you doing, Gabriella ? " she added, sitting 
 down beside me and drawing my hand from my eyes. " In 
 tears ! I have been almost crying my eyes out ; but you do 
 not look happy. I thought you loved me so well, you would 
 feel happy because I am so. Do you not ? " 
 
 " You will hate me for my selfishness, dear Edith. I did 
 think of you for a long time, and rejoice in your happiness. 
 Then I began to think how lonely and unconnected I am, and I 
 have been wicked enough to envy your treasures of affection 
 for ever denied to me. I felt as if there was no one to love me 
 in the wide world. But you have remembered me, Edith, even 
 in the depth of your joy, ingrate that I am. Forgive me," 
 said I, passing my arms round her beautiful white neck. " I 
 will try to be good after this." 
 
 She kissed me, and told me to bathe my eyes and come right 
 down, her mother said I must. Ernest had inquired what had 
 become of me, and he would think it strange if I hid myself in 
 this way. 
 
 "And you have seen him, Gabriella," she cried, and her 
 tongue ran glibly while I plunged my face in a basin of cold 
 water, ashamed of the traces of selfish sorrow. " You have seen 
 my own dear brother Ernest. And only think of your getting 
 the first glimpse of him! What did you think of him ? What 
 do you think of him now ? Is he not handsome ? Is there not 
 something very striking, very attractive about him ? Is he not 
 different from any one you ever saw before ? " 
 
 " There is something very striking in his appearance," I 
 answered, smiling at the number and rapidity of her questions ; 
 "but I was so disconcerted, so foolish, I hardly dared to look 
 him in the face. Has he changed since you saw him last ? " 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 105 
 
 " Not much, rather paler, I think ; but perhaps it is only 
 fatigue, or the languor following intense excitement. I feel 
 myself as if all ray strength were gone. I cannot describe my 
 sensations when I saw him standing in the open gateway. I 
 let mamma get out first. I thought it was her right to receive 
 the first embrace of welcome ; but when he turned to me, I 
 threw myself on his neck, discarding my crutches, and clung to 
 him, just as I used to do when a little, helpless, suffering child. 
 And would you believe it, Gabriella ? he actually shed tears. 
 I did not expect so much sensibility. I feared the world had 
 hardened him, but it has not. Make haste and come down 
 with me. I long to look at him again. Here, let me put back 
 this scarlet geranium. You do not know how pretty it looks. 
 Brother said no I will not tell you what he said. Yes, I 
 will. He said he had no idea the charming young girl, with 
 such a classic face and aristocratic bearing, was mother s little 
 protegee." 
 
 " You asked him, Edith, I know you did." 
 
 " Supposing I did, there was no harm in it. Come, I 
 want you to see mamma; she looks so young and handsome. 
 Joy is such a beautifier." 
 
 " I think it is," said I, as I gazed at her star-bright eyes and 
 blush-rose cheeks. We entered the drawing-room together, 
 where Ernest was seated on the sofa by his mother, with her 
 hand clasped in his. Edith was right, she did look younger 
 and handsomer than I had ever seen her. She was usually 
 pale and her face was calm. Now a breeze had stirred the 
 waters, and the sunshine quivered on the rippling surface. 
 
 They rose as we entered, and came forward to meet us. My 
 old trepidation returned. Would Mrs. Linwood introduce me, 
 and if she did, in what manner ? Would there be any thing in 
 her air or countenance to imply that I was a dependent on her 
 bounty, rather than an adopted daughter of the household? 
 Hush, these proud whispers. Listen, how kindly she speaks. 
 
 " My dear Gabriella, this is my son, Ernest. You know it 
 already, and he knows that you are the child of my adoption. 
 Nevertheless, I must introduce you to each other." 
 
106 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Surprised and touched by the maternal kindness of her man* 
 ner, (I ought not to have been surprised, for she was always 
 kind,, I looked up, and I know that gratitude and sensibility 
 passed from my heart to my eyes. 
 
 " I must claim the privilege of an adopted brother," said he, 
 extending his hand, and I thought he smiled. Perhaps I was 
 mistaken. His countenance had a way of suddenly lighting 
 up, which I learned to compare to sunshine breaking through 
 clouds. The hand in which he took mine was so white, so deli 
 cately moulded, it looked as if it might have belonged to a 
 woman, but he was a student, the heir of wealth, not the son 
 of labor, the inheritor of the primeval curse. It is a trifle to 
 mention, the hand of an intellectual man, but I had been 
 so accustomed to the large, muscular fingers of Mr. Regulus, 
 which seemed formed to wield the weapon of authority, that I 
 could not but notice the contrast. 
 
 How pleasantly, how delightfully the evening passed away ! 
 I sat in my favorite recess, half shaded by the light drapery 
 of the window ; while Ernest took a seat at his mother s side, 
 and Edith occupied a low ottoman at his feet. One arm was 
 thrown across his lap, and her eyes were lifted to his face with 
 an expression of the most idolizing affection. And all the 
 while he was talking, his hand passed caressingly over her fair 
 flaxen hair, or lingered amidst its glistering ringlets. It was a 
 beautiful picture of sisterly and fraternal love, the fairest I 
 had ever seen. The fairest ! it was the first, the only one. I 
 had never realized before the exceeding beauty and holiness of 
 this tender tic. As I looked upon Edith in her graceful, en 
 dearing attitude, so expressive of dependence and love, many 
 a sentence descriptive of a brother s tenderness floated up to 
 the surface of memory. I remembered part of a beautiful 
 hymn, 
 
 " Fair mansions in my Father s house 
 
 For all his children wait ; 
 
 And I, } our elder brother go, 
 
 To open wide the gate." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 107 
 
 The Saviour of mankind called himself our brother, 
 stamping with the seal of divinity the dear relationship. 
 
 I had imagined I felt for Richard Clyde a sister s regard. 
 No, no ! Cold were my sentiments to those that beamed in 
 Edith s upturned eyes. 
 
 Ernest described his travels, his life abroad, and dwelt on 
 the peculiarities of German character, its high, imaginative 
 traits, its mysticism and superstition, till his tongue warmed 
 into enthusiasm, and one of his hearers at least felt the 
 inspiration of his eloquence. His mother had said he was 
 reserved ! I began to think I did not know the right meaning 
 of the word. If he paused and seemed about to relapse into 
 silence, Edith would draw a long breath, as if she had just been 
 inhaling some exhilarating gas, and exclaim, 
 
 " Oh ! do go on, brother ; it is so long since we have heard 
 you talk ; it is such a luxury to hear a person talk, who really 
 says something." 
 
 " I never care about talking, unless I do have something to 
 say" he answered, " but I think I have monopolized attention 
 long enough. As a guest, I have a right to be entertained. 
 Have you forgotten my love for music, Edith ? " 
 
 " O no ! I remember all your favorite airs, and have played 
 them a thousand times at least. Do you wish to hear me now ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I do ; I have heard nothing so sweet as your 
 voice, dear Edith, since I heard your last parting song." 
 
 He rose and moved the harp forward, and seated her at the 
 instrument. 
 
 " Does not Miss Lynn play ? " he asked, running his fingers 
 carelessly over the glittering strings. 
 
 " Who is Miss Lynn ? " repeated Edith, with a look of inquiry. 
 
 I laughed at her surprise and my own. It was the first time 
 I had ever heard myself called so, and I looked round involun 
 tarily to see who and where " Miss Lynn " was. 
 
 " Oh, Gabriella ! " cried Edith, " I did not know whom you 
 meant. I assure you, brother, there is no Miss Lynn here ; it 
 is Gabriella our Gabriella that is her name ; you must not 
 call her by any other." 
 
108 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " I shall be happy to avail myself of the privilege of uttering 
 so charming a name. Does Miss Gabriella play ? " 
 
 " No, no, that is not right yet, Ernest ; you must drop the 
 Miss. Do not answer him, Gabriella, till he knows his lesson 
 better." 
 
 " Does Gabriella play ? " 
 
 The name came gravely and melodiously from his tongue. 
 The distance between us seemed wonderfully diminished by the 
 mere breathing my Christian name. 
 
 " I do not," I answered, " but my love of music amounts to a 
 passion. I am never so happy as when listening to Edith s 
 voice and harp." 
 
 " She has never, taken lessons," said Edith ; " if she had, she 
 would have made a splendid musician, I am confident she would. 
 Dear mother, when we go to the city next winter, Gabriella 
 must go with us, and she must have music-masters, and we will 
 play and sing together. She has taught in that old academy 
 long enough, I am sure she has." 
 
 " I think Gabriella has been taking some very important les 
 sons herself, while teaching in the old academy, which chances 
 to be quite new, at least her part of it," answered Mrs. Lin- 
 wood ; " but I have no intention of suffering her to remain there 
 too long ; she has borne the discipline admirably." 
 
 As I turned a grateful glance to Mrs. Linwood, my heart 
 throbbing with delight at the prospect of emancipation, I met 
 the eyes, the earnest, perusing eyes of her son. I drew back 
 further into the shadow of the curtain, but the risen moon was 
 shining upon my face, and silvering the lace drapery that floated 
 round me. Edith whispered something to her brother, glancing 
 towards me her smiling eyes, then sweeping her fingers lightly 
 over the harp-strings, began one of the songs that Ernest loved. 
 
 Sweetly as she always sang, I had never heard her sing so 
 sweetly before. It seemed indeed " Joy s ecstatic trial," so airily 
 her fingers sparkled over the chords, so clearly and cheerily 
 she warbled each animated note. 
 
 " I know you love sad songs best, Ernest, but I cannot sing 
 them to-night," she said, pushing the instrument from her. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 109 
 
 " There is a little German air, which I think I may recol 
 lect," said he, drawing the harp towards him. 
 
 " You, Ernest ! " cried Edith and his mother in the same 
 breath, " you play on the harp ! " 
 
 He smiled at their astonishment. 
 
 " I took lessons while in Germany. A fellow-student taught 
 me, a glorious musician, and a native of the land of music, 
 Italy. There, the very atmosphere breathes of harmony." 
 
 The very first note he called forth, I felt a master s touch 
 was on the chords, and leaning forward I held my breath to 
 listen. The strains rose rich and murmuring like an ocean 
 breeze, then died away soft as wave falls on wave in the moon 
 light night. He sang a simple, pathetic air, with such deep 
 feeling, such tender, passionate emotion, that tears involuntarily 
 moistened my eyes. All the slumbering music of my being 
 .responded. It was thus / could sing, / could play, I 
 knew I could. And when he rose and resumed his seat by his 
 mother, I could scarcely restrain myself from touching the 
 same chords, the chords still quivering from his magic hand. 
 
 " O brother ! " exclaimed Edith, " what a charming sur 
 prise ! I never heard any thing so thrillingly sweet ! You do 
 not know how happy you have made me. One more, only 
 one more, Ernest." 
 
 " You forget your brother is from a long and weary journey, 
 Edith, and we have many an evening before us, I trust, of do 
 mestic joy like this," said Mrs. Linwood, ringing for the night- 
 lamps. " To-morrow is the hallowed rest-day of the Lord, 
 and our hearts, so long restless from expectation, will feel the 
 grateful calm of assured happiness. One who returns after a 
 long journey to the bosom of home, in health and safety, has 
 peculiar calls for gratitude and praise. He should bless the 
 God of the traveller for having given his angels charge con 
 cerning him, and shielding him from unknown dangers. You 
 feel all this, my son." 
 
 She looked at him with an anxious, questioning glance. She 
 feared that the mysticism of Germany might have obscured 
 the brightness of his Christian faith. 
 
 10 
 
110 ERNEST LINAVOOD. 
 
 " I am grateful, my mother," he answered with deep serious 
 ness, " grateful to God for the blessings of this hour. This has 
 been one of the happiest evenings of my life. Surely it is 
 worth years of absence to be welcomed to such a home, and by 
 such pure, loving hearts, hearts in which I can trust without 
 hypocrisy and without guile." 
 
 " Believe all hearts true, my son, till you prove them false." 
 
 " Faith is a gift of heaven, not an act of human will," he 
 replied. Then I remembered what Richard Clyde had said 
 of him, and I thought of it again when alone in my chamber. 
 
 Edith peeped in through the door that divided our rooms. 
 
 " Have we not had a charming evening ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, very" I answered. 
 
 " How fond you are of that little adverb very" she ex 
 claimed with a laugh ; " you make it sound so expressively. 
 Well, is not Ernest very interesting ? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " The most interesting person you ever saw ? " 
 
 " You question me too closely. Edith. It will not do for me 
 to speak as extravagantly as you do. I am not his sister, and 
 the praise that falls so sweetly from your tongue, would sound 
 bold and inappropriate from mine. I never knew before how 
 strong a sister s love could be, Edith. Surely you can never 
 feel a stronger passion." 
 
 " Never," she cried earnestly, and coming in, she sat down 
 on the side of the bed and unbound the ribbon from her slender 
 waist. " The misfortune that has set me apart from my youth 
 ful companions will prevent me from indulging in the dreams 
 of love. I know my mother does not wish me to marry, and I 
 have never thought of the possibility of leaving her. I would 
 not dare to give this frail frame and too tenderly indulged heart 
 into the keeping of one who could never, never bestow the 
 love, the boundless love, which has surrounded me from infancy, 
 like the firmament of heaven. I have been sought in marriage 
 more than once, it might be for reputed wealth or for imagined 
 charms ; but when I compared my would-be lovers to Ernest, 
 they faded into such utter insignificance, I could scarcely par- 
 
ERNEST LI X WOOD. Ill 
 
 don their presumption. I do not think he has ever loved him 
 self. I do not think he has ever seen one worthy of his love. 
 I believe it would kill me, Gabriella, to know that he loved 
 another better than myself." 
 
 For the first time I thought Edith selfish, and that she carried 
 the romance of sisterly affection too far. 
 
 " You wish him, then, to be an old bachelor ! " said I, smiling. 
 
 " Oh ! do n t apply to him such a horrid name. I did not 
 think of that. Good night, darling. Mamma would scold me, if 
 she knew I was up talking nonsense, instead of being in bed and 
 asleep, like a good, obedient child." She kissed me and retired; 
 but it was long before I fell asleep. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE next morning, as I was coming up the steps with my 
 white muslin apron full of gathered flowers, I met Ernest Lin- 
 wood. I was always an early riser. Dear, faithful Peggy 
 had taught me this rural habit, and I have reason to bless her 
 for it. 
 
 " I see where you get your roses," said he ; I knew he did 
 not mean the roses in my apron, and those to which he alluded 
 grew brighter as he spoke. 
 
 " Am I indebted to you for the beautiful flowers in my own 
 apartment ? " he asked, as he turned back and entered the house 
 with me, " or was it Edith s sisterly hand placed them there ? " 
 
 " Are you pleased with them ? " I said, with a childish de 
 light. It seemed to me a great thing that he had noticed them 
 at all. " As Edith is lame, she indulges me in carrying out her 
 own sweet tastes. I assure you I esteem it an inestimable priv 
 ilege." 
 
 " You love flowers, then ? " 
 
 " O yes, passionately. I have almost an idolatrous love for 
 them." 
 
 " And does it not make you sad to see them wither away, in 
 spite of your passionate love ? " 
 
 " Yes, but others bloom in their stead. T is but a change 
 from blossom to blossom." 
 
 " You deceive yourself," he said, and there was something 
 chilling in his tone, " it is not love you feel for them, for that is 
 unchangeable, and admits but one object." 
 
 " I was not speaking of human love," I answered, busily 
 arranging the flowers in their vases, in which I had already 
 
 (112) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 113 
 
 placed some icy cold water. He walked up and down the room, 
 stopping occasionally to observe the process, and making some 
 passing remark. I was astonished at finding myself so much at 
 ease. I suppose the awe he inspired, like the fear of ghosts, 
 subsided at the dawning of morning. There was something so 
 exhilarating in the pure fresh air, in the dewy brightness of the 
 hour, in the exercise of roaming through a wilderness of sweets, 
 that my spirits were too elastic to be held down. He seemed 
 to take an interest in watching me, and even altered the posi 
 tion of some white roses, which he said wanted a shading of 
 green. 
 
 " And what are these beautiful clusters laid aside for ?" he 
 asked, taking up some which I had deposited on the table. 
 
 " I thought," I answered, after a slight hesitation, " that 
 Edith would like them for your room." 
 
 " Then it is only to please Edith you place. them there, not 
 to please yourself? " 
 
 " I should not dare to do it to please myself," I hastily re 
 plied. 
 
 I thought I must have said something wrong, for he turned 
 away with a peculiar smile. I colored with vexation, and was 
 glad that Edith came in to divert his attention from me. 
 
 Nothing could be more gentle and affectionate than his greet 
 ing. He went up and kissed her, as if she were a little child, 
 put his arm round her, and taking one of her crutches, made her 
 lean on him for support. I understood something of the secret 
 of her idolatry. 
 
 Where was the impenetrable reserve of which his mother 
 had spoken ? 
 
 I had not yet seen him in society. AS he talked with Edith, 
 his head slightly bent and his profile turned towards me, I could 
 look at him unobserved, and I was struck even more than the 
 evening before with the transparent paleness of his complexion. 
 Dark, delicate, and smooth, as alabaster, it gave an air of ex 
 treme refinement and sensibility to his face, without detracting 
 from its manliness or intellectual power. It was a face to 
 peruse, to study, to think of, it was a baffling, haunting face. 
 
 10* 
 
114 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 Hieroglyphics of thought were there, too mysterious for the 
 common eye to interpret. It was a dark lantern, flashing light 
 before it, itself all in shadow. 
 
 "It is a shame that you must leave us, Gabriella," said 
 Edith, when after breakfast her pony was brought to the door. 
 " Ernest," added she, turning to him, " I am so glad you are 
 come. You must persuade mamma to lay her commands on 
 Gabriella, and not permit her to make such a slave of herself. 
 I feel guilty to be at home doing nothing and she toiling six 
 long hours." 
 
 " It is Gabriella s own choice," cried Mrs. Linwood, a slight 
 flush crossing her cheek. " Is it not, my child ? " 
 
 " Your wisdom guided my choice, dear madam," I answered, 
 " and I thank you for it." 
 
 " It would seem more natural to think of Miss of Gabriel- 
 la as a pupil, than a teacher," observed Ernest, " if youth 
 is the criterion by which we judge." 
 
 " I am seventeen in my eighteenth year," said I eagerly, 
 urged by an unaccountable desire that he should not think me 
 too young. 
 
 " A very grave and reverend age ! " said he sarcastically. 
 
 I thought Mrs. Linwood looked unusually serious, and fearing 
 I had said something wrong, I hastened to depart. Dearly as I 
 loved my benefactress, it was not " that perfect love which 
 casteth out fear." As her benevolence was warm, her justice 
 was inflexible. Hers was the kind hand, but the firm nerves 
 that could sustain a friend, while the knife of the surgeon 
 entered the quivering flesh. She shrunk not from inflicting 
 pain, if it was for another s good ; but if she wounded with 
 one hand, she strewed balm with the other. Her influence was 
 strong, controlling, almost irresistible. Like the sunshine that 
 forced the wind-blown traveller to throw aside his cloak, the 
 warmth of her kindness penetrated, but it also compelled. 
 
 I had a growing conviction that though she called me her 
 adopted child, she did not wish me to presume upon her kind 
 ness so far as to look upon her son in the familiar light of a 
 brother. There was no fear of my transgressing her wishes in 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 115 
 
 this respect. I had already lost my dread, my awe was 
 melting away, but I could no more approach him with famil 
 iarity than if fourfold bars of gold surrounded him. I had 
 another conviction, that she encouraged and wished me to 
 return the attachment of Richard Clyde. Her urgent advice 
 ha*! induced me to accept the proffered correspondence with 
 him, a compliance which I afterwards bitterly regretted. He 
 professed to write only as a friend, according to the bond, but 
 amid the evergreen wreath of friendship, he concealed the 
 glowing flowers of love. He was to return home in a few 
 weeks. The commencement was approaching, which was to 
 liberate him from scholastic fetters and crown him with the 
 honors of manhood. 
 
 AVhy," thought I, " should Richard make me dread his 
 return, when I would gladly welcome him with joy ? Why in 
 wishing to be more than a friend, does he make me desire that 
 he should be less ? And now Ernest Linwood is come back, 
 of whom he so strangely warned me, methinks I dread him 
 more than ever." 
 
 Mrs. Linwood would attend the commencement. I had 
 heard her tell Richard so. I had heard her repeat her inten 
 tion since her son s return. He, of course, would feel interested 
 in meeting his old class mates and friends. They would all feel 
 interested in seeing and hearing how Richard Clyde sustained 
 his proud distinction. 
 
 " Gabriella, especially," said Edith with a smile, which, 
 sweet as it was, I thought extremely silly. I blushed with 
 vexation, when Ernest, lifting his grave eyes from his book, 
 asked who was Richard Clyde. 
 
 " You have seen him when he was quite a youth," answered 
 his mother, " but have probably forgotten him. He is a young 
 man of great promise, and has been awarded the first honors 
 of his class. I feel a deep interest in him for his own sake, 
 and moreover I am indebted to him for my introduction to our 
 own Gabriella." 
 
 " Indeed ! " repeated her son, and glancing towards me, hia 
 countenance lighted up with a sudden look of intelligence. 
 
116 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Why need Mrs. Linwood have said that ? Why need she 
 have associated him so intimately and significantly with me ? 
 And why could I not keep down the rising crimson, which 
 might be attributed to another source than embarrassment ? I 
 opened my lips to deny any interest in Richard beyond that of 
 friendly acquaintanceship ; but Mrs. Linwood s mild, serene,*yet 
 resolute eyes, beat mine down and choked my eager utterance. 
 
 Pier eyes said as clearly as words could say, " what matters 
 it to my son, how little or how great an interest you feel in 
 Richard Clyde or any other person ? " 
 
 " You must accompany us, Gabriella," she said, with great 
 kindness. " You have never witnessed this gathering of the 
 literati of our State, and I know of no one who would enjoy i* 
 more. It will be quite an intellectual banquet." 
 
 " I thank you, but I cannot accept the invitation," I an 
 swered, suppressing a sigh, not of disappointment at the neces 
 sity of refusal, but of mortification at the inference that would 
 probably be drawn from this conversation. " My vacation 
 does not begin till afterwards." 
 
 " I think I can intercede with Mr. Regulus to release you," 
 said Mrs. Linwood. 
 
 " Thank you, I do not wish to go, indeed I would much 
 rather not, unless," I added, fearful I had spoken too energeti 
 cally, " you have an urgent desire that I should." 
 
 " I wish very much to make you happy, and I think you 
 would enjoy far more than you now anticipate. But there is 
 time enough to decide. There will be a fortnight hence." 
 
 " But the dresses, mamma," cried Edith ; " you know she 
 will need new dresses if she goes, and they will require some 
 time to prepare." 
 
 " As Gabriella will not come out, as it is called, till next 
 winter/ replied Mrs. Linwood, " it is not a matter of so much 
 consequence as you imagine. Simplicity is much more charm 
 ing than ornament in the dress of a very young girl." 
 
 u I agree with you, mother," observed Ernest, without lifting 
 his eyes from his book, " especially where artificial ornaments 
 are superfluous." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 117 
 
 " I did not think you were listening to our remarks about 
 dress," said Edith. " This is something quite new, brother." 
 
 "I am not listening, and yet I hear. So be very careful 
 not to betray yourself in my presence. But perhaps I had 
 better retire to the library, then you can discuss with more 
 freedom the mysteries of the toilet and the fascinations of 
 dress." 
 
 " No, no. We have nothing to say that you may not 
 hear ; " but he rose and withdrew. Did he mean to imply that 
 " artificial ornaments would be superfluous " to me ? No, it 
 was only a general remark, and it would be vanity of vanities 
 to apply it to myself. 
 
 " I want you to do one thing to gratify me, dear Gabriella," 
 continued Edith. " Please lay aside your mourning and 
 assume a more cheerful garb. You have worn it two long 
 years. Only think how long ! It will be so refreshing to see 
 you in white or delicate colors." 
 
 I looked down at my mourning garments, and all the sorrow 
 typified by their dark hue rolled back upon my heart. The 
 awful scenes they commemorated, the throes of agony which 
 rent away life from the strong, the slow wasting of the feeble, 
 the solemnity of death, the gloom of the grave, the anguish of 
 bereavement, the abandonment of desolation that followed, 
 all came back. I lived them all over in one passing moment. 
 
 " I never, never wish to lay aside the badges of mourning," 
 I exclaimed ; and, covering my face with my handkerchief, tears 
 gushed unrestrainedly. " I shall never cease to mourn for my 
 mother." 
 
 " I did not mean to grieve you, Gabriella," cried Edith, put 
 ting her arms round me with sympathizing tenderness. " I 
 thought time had softened your anguish, and that you could 
 bear to speak of it now." 
 
 " And so she ought," said Mrs. Linwood, in a tone of mild 
 rebuke. " Time is God s ministering angel, commissioned to 
 bind up the wounds of sorrow and to heal the bleeding heart. 
 The same natural law which bids flowers to spring up and 
 udorn the grave-sod causes the blossoms of hope to bloom again 
 
118 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 in the bosom of bereavement. Memory should be immortal, 
 but mourning should last but a season." 
 
 " I meant that I never should forget her," I cried, my tears 
 flowing gently under her subduing accents. " Dear Mrs. Lin- 
 wood, you have made it impossible for me always to mourn. 
 Yet there are times, when her remembrance comes over me 
 with such a power that I am borne down by it to the level of 
 my first deep anguish. These are not frequent now. I some 
 times fear there is danger of my being too happy after sustain 
 ing such a loss." 
 
 " Beware, my dear child, of cherishing the morbid sensibility 
 which believes happiness inconsistent with the remembrance of 
 departed friends. Life to your mother, since your recollection of 
 her, was a sad boon. As she possessed the faith, and died the 
 death of the Christian, you are authorized to believe that she 
 now possesses an exceeding and eternal weight of glory. Can 
 you take in the grandeur of the idea, a weight of glory ? 
 Contrast it with the burden of care under which you saw her 
 crushed, and you will then be willing to exchange mourning for 
 the oil of joy, and the spirit of heaviness for the garment of 
 praise." 
 
 " I am willing, dear Mrs. Linwood, my kindest friend, my 
 second mother. I will in all things be guided by your counsel 
 and moulded by your will. No, oh no, I would not for worlds 
 rob my mother of the glorious inheritance purchased by a Sav 
 iour s blood. But tell me one thing, must we all pass through 
 tribulation before entering the kingdom of heaven ? Must we 
 all travel with bleeding feet the thorny path of suffering, before 
 being admitted into the presence of God ? " 
 
 " The Bible must answer you, my child. Do you remember, 
 in the apocalyptic vision, when it was asked, * What are these, 
 which are arrayed in white robes ? and whence come they ? 
 It was answered, These are they which came out of great 
 tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white 
 in the blood of the Lamb. " 
 
 " Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 119 
 
 dty and niglit in his temple ; and he that sitteth on the throne 
 shall dwell among them." 
 
 I remembered them well. 
 
 " Go on," I said, " that is not all." 
 
 " They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither 
 shall the sun light on them, nor any heat." 
 
 She paused, and her voice became tremulous from deep 
 emotion. 
 
 " One verse more," I cried, " only one." 
 
 " For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed 
 them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and 
 God shall wipe all tears from their eyes." 
 
 There was silence for a few moments. All words seemed 
 vain and sacrilegious after this sublimest language of reve 
 lation. 
 
 At length I said, 
 
 " Let me wear white, the livery of my mother, in heaven. 
 T is a sin to mourn for her whose tears the hand of God has 
 wiped away." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ONE week, and another week passed by, and every evening 
 was as charming as the first of the return of Ernest Lin- 
 wood. In that fortnight were compressed the social and intel 
 lectual joys of a lifetime. Music, reading, and conversation 
 filled the measure of the evening hours. Such music, such 
 reading, and such conversation as I never heard before. I had 
 been accustomed to read aloud a great deal to my own dear 
 mother, to Mrs. Linwood, and to my young pupils also, and I 
 had reason to think I could read remarkably well ; but I could 
 not read like Ernest, I never heard any one that could. lie 
 infused his own soul into the soul of the author, and brought 
 out his deepest meanings. When he read poetry I sat like one 
 entranced, bound by the double spell of genius and music. 
 Mrs. Linwood could sew ; Edith could sew or net, but I could 
 do " nothing but listen. I could feel the blood tingling to my 
 finger ends, the veins throbbing in my temples, and the color 
 coming and going in my cheek. 
 
 " You love poetry," said he once, pausing, and arresting my 
 fascinated glance. 
 
 " Love it," I exclaimed, sighing in the fulness of delight, ki it 
 is the passion of my soul." 
 
 " You have three passions, music, flowers, and poetry," said 
 he, with a smile that seemed to mock the extravagance of my 
 language, " which is the regal one, the passion of passions ? " 
 
 " I can hardly imagine the existence of one without the 
 other," I answered, " their harmony is so entire ; flowers are 
 silent poetry, and poetry is written music." 
 
 " And music ? " he asked. 
 
 (120) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 121 
 
 " Is_ the breath of heaven, the language of angels. As the 
 voice of Echo lingered in the woods, where she loved to wander, 
 when her beauteous frame had vanished, so music remains to 
 show the angel nature we have lost." 
 
 I blushed at having said so much, but the triune passion 
 warmed my soul. 
 
 " Gabriella is a poetess herself," said Edith, " and may well 
 speak of the magic of numbers. She has a portfolio, filled with 
 papers written, like Ezekiel s scroll, within and without. I wish 
 you would let me get it, Gabriella, do." 
 
 " Impossible ! " I answered, " I never wrote but one poem for 
 exhibition, and the experience of that hour was sufficient for a 
 lifetime." 
 
 " You were but a child then, Gabriella. Mr. Regulus would 
 give it a very different reception now, I know he would," said 
 Edith. 
 
 " If it is a child s story, will you not relate it ? " asked Ernest ; 
 " you have excited my curiosity." 
 
 " Curiosity, brother, I thought you possessed none." 
 
 " Interest is a better word. If I understand aright, the bud 
 dings of Gabriella s genius met w r ith an untimely blight." 
 
 I know not how it was, but I felt in an exceedingly ingenuous 
 mood, and I related this episode in my childish history without 
 reserve. I touched lightly on the championship of Richard 
 Clyde, but I was obliged to introduce it. I had forgotten that 
 he was associated with the narration, or I should have been 
 silent. 
 
 " This youthful knight, and the hero of commencement day 
 are one, then," observed Ernest. " He is a fortunate youth, with 
 the myrtle and the laurel both entwining his brows ; you must 
 be proud of your champion." 
 
 " I am grateful to him," I replied, resolved to make a bold 
 effort to remove the impression I knew he had received. Mrs. 
 Linwood was not present, or I could not have spoken as I did. 
 " He defended me because he thought I was oppressed ; he be 
 friended me because my friends were few. He has the gener 
 ous spirit of chivalry which cannot see wrong without seeking 
 
 11 
 
122 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 to redress it, or suffering without wishing to relieve it. I am 
 under unspeakable obligations to him, for he it was who spoke 
 kindly of the obseure little girl to your mother and sister, and 
 obtained for me the priceless blessing of their love." 
 
 " I dare say they feel very grateful to him, likewise," said he, 
 in a tone of genuine feeling. " I acknowledge my share of the 
 obligation. But is he so disinterested as to claim no recom 
 pense, or does he find that chivalry, like goodness, is its own ex 
 ceeding great reward ? " 
 
 " I thought I regarded him as a brother, till now Edith has 
 convinced me I am mistaken." 
 
 " How so ? " he asked, with so peculiar an expression, I for 
 got what I was going to say. 
 
 " How so ? " he repeated, while Edith leaned towards him 
 and laid her hand on his. 
 
 " By showing me how strong and fervent a sister s love can 
 be." 
 
 His eyes flashed ; they looked like fountains of light, full to 
 overflowing. His arm involuntarily encircled Edith, and a 
 smile, beautiful as a woman s, curled his lips. 
 
 " How he does love her ! " thought I; " strong indeed must 
 be the counter charm, that can rival hers." 
 
 I had never seen his spirits so light as they were the remain 
 der of the evening. They rose even to gaiety ; and again I 
 wondered what had become of the reserve and moodiness whose 
 dark shadow had preceded his approach. 
 
 " We are so happy now," said Edith, when we were alone, 
 " I dread the interruption of company. Ernest does not care 
 for it, and if it be of an uncongenial kind, he wraps himself in 
 a mantle of reserve, that neither sun nor wind can unfold. 
 After commencement, our house will be overflowing with city 
 friends. They will return with us, and we shall not probably 
 be alone again for the whole summer." 
 
 She sighed at the anticipation, and I echoed the sound. I 
 was somebody now ; but what a nobody I should dwindle into, 
 in comparison with the daughters of wealth and fashion who 
 would gather at Grandison Place ! 
 
ERNEST LI X WOOD. 123 
 
 " Ernest must like you very much, Gabriella, or he would 
 not show the interest he does in all that concerns you. You do 
 not know what a compliment he pays you, because you have not 
 seen him in company with other young girls. I have some 
 times felt quite distressed at his indifference when they have 
 been my guests. He has such a contempt for affectation and 
 display, that he cannot entirely conceal it. He is not apt to 
 express his opinion of any one, but there are indirect ways of 
 discovering it. I found him this morning in the library, stand 
 ing before that beautiful picture of the Italian flower girl, which 
 you admire so much. He was so absorbed, that he did not per 
 ceive my entrance, till I stole behind him and laid my hand on 
 his shoulder. Do you not see a likeness ? he asked. To 
 whom? To Gabriella. To Gabriella! I repeated. 
 Yes, it is like her, but I never observed it before. A very 
 striking resemblance, he said, only she has more mind in 
 her face. " 
 
 " That enchanting picture like me ! " I exclaimed, " impossi 
 ble ! There is, there can be no likeness. It is nothing but 
 association. He knows I am the flower-girl of the house, and 
 that is the reason he thought of me." 
 
 I tried to speak with indifference, but my voice trembled 
 with delight. 
 
 The next morning, when I came in from the garden, all laden 
 with flowers, an irresistible impulse drew me to the library. It 
 was very early. The hush of repose still lingered over the 
 household, and that particular apartment, in which the silent 
 eloquence of books, paintings, and statues hung like a solemn 
 spell, seemed in such deep quietude, I started at the light echo 
 of my own footsteps. 
 
 I stole with guilty consciousness towards the picture, in whose 
 lineaments the fastidious eye of Ernest Linwood had traced a 
 similitude to mine. They were all engraven on my memory, 
 but now they possessed a new fascination ; and I stood before it, 
 gazing into the soft, dark depths of the eyes, in which innocent 
 mildness and bashful tenderness were mingled like the dare- 
 obscure of an Italian moonlight ; gazing on the dawning smile 
 
124 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 that seemed to play over the beautiful and glowing lips, and the 
 bright, rich, dark hair, so carelessly, gracefully arranged you 
 could almost see the balmy breezes of her native clime rustling 
 amid the silken tresses ; on the charming contour of the head 
 and neck, slightly turned as if about to look back and give a 
 parting glance at the garden she had reluctantly quitted. 
 
 As I thus stood, with my hands loaded with blossoms, a 
 flower basket suspended from my arm, and a straw hat such as 
 shepherdesses wear, on my head, my garden costume, in 
 voluntarily imitating the attitude of the lovely flower girl, the 
 door, which had been left ajar, silently opened, and Ernest Lin- 
 wood entered. 
 
 Had I been detected in the act of stealing or counterfeiting 
 money, I could not have felt more intense shame. He knew 
 what brought me there. I saw it in his penetrating eye, his 
 half-suppressed smile ; and, ready to sink with mortification, I 
 covered my face with the roses I held in my hands. 
 
 " Do you admire the picture ? " he asked, advancing to where 
 I stood ; " do you perceive the resemblance ? " 
 
 I shook my head without answering ; I was too much discon 
 certed to speak. What would he think of my despicable van 
 ity, my more than childish foolishness ? 
 
 " I am glad to see we have congenial tastes," he said, with a 
 smile in his voice. " I came on purpose to gaze on that charm 
 ing representation of youth and innocence, without dreaming 
 that its original was by it." 
 
 " Original ! " I repeated. " Surely you do mock me, t is 
 but a fancy sketch, and in nought but youth and flowers re 
 sembles me." 
 
 " We cannot see ourselves, and it is well we cannot. The 
 image reflected from the mirror is but a cold, faint shadow of 
 the living, breathing soul. But why this deep confusion, that 
 averted face and downcast eye ? Have I offended by my intru 
 sion? Do you wish me to withdraw, and yield to you the 
 privilege of solitary admiration ? " 
 
 " It is I who am the intruder," I answered, looking wistfully 
 towards the door, through which I was tempted to rush at 
 
ERNEST L I X W O O D . 125 
 
 once. " I thought you had not risen, I thought, I 
 came " 
 
 " And why did you come at this hour, Gabriella ? and what 
 has caused such excessive embarrassment? Will you not be 
 ingenuous enough to tell me ? " 
 
 " I will," answered I, calmed by the gentle composure of his 
 manner, " if you will assert that you do not know already." 
 
 " I do not know, but I can imagine. Edith has betrayed my 
 admiration of that picture. You came to justify my taste, and 
 to establish beyond a doubt the truth of the likeness." 
 
 " Xo, indeed ! I did not ; I cannot explain the impulse which 
 led me hither. I only wish I had resisted it as I ought." 
 
 I suppose I must have looked quite miserable, from the 
 efforts he made to restore my self-complacency. He took the 
 basket from my arm and placed it on the table, moved a chair 
 forward for me, and another for himself, as if preparing for a 
 morning tete a tete. 
 
 " What would Mrs. Linwood say, if she saw me here at this 
 early hour alone with her son ? " thought I, obeying his motion, 
 and tossing my hat on the light stairs that were winding up be 
 hind me. I did not fell the possibility of declining the inter 
 view, for there was a power about him which overmastered 
 without their knowing it the will of others. 
 
 "If you knew how much more pleasing is the innocent 
 shame and artless sensibility you manifest, than the ease and 
 assurance of the practised worldling, you would not blush for 
 the impuse which drew you hither. To the sated taste and 
 weary eye, simplicity and truth are refreshing as the spring 
 time of nature after its dreary winter. The cheek that blushes, 
 the eye that moistens, and the heart that palpitates, are sureties 
 of indwelling purity and candor. What a pity that they are as 
 evanescent as the bloom of these flowers and the fragrance 
 they exhale ! You have never been in what is called the great 
 world?" 
 
 " Xcver. I passed one winter in Boston ; but I was in deep 
 mourning and did not go into society. Besides, your mother 
 thought me too young. It was more than a year ago." 
 11* 
 
126 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " You will be considered old enough this winter. Do you 
 not look forward with eager anticipations and bright hopes to 
 the realization of youth s golden dreams ? " 
 
 " I as often look forward with dread as hope. I am told they 
 who see much of the world, lose their faith in human virtue, 
 their belief in sincerity, their implicit trust in what seems good 
 and fair. All the pleasures of the world would not be an 
 equivalent for the loss of these." 
 
 " And do you possess all these now ? " 
 
 " I think I do. I am sure I ought. I have never yet been 
 deceived. I should doubt that the setting sun would rise again, 
 as soon as the truth of those who have professed to love me. 
 Your mother, Edith and " 
 
 " Richard Clyde," he added, with a smile, and that truth- 
 searching glance which often brought unbidden words to my 
 lips. 
 
 " Yes ; I have perfect reliance in his friendship." 
 
 " And in his love," he added ; " why not finish the sen 
 tence ? " 
 
 " Because I have no right to betray his confidence, even 
 supposing your assertion to be true. I have spoken of the only 
 feeling, whose existence I am willing to admit, and even that 
 was drawn from me. What if / turn inquisitor ? " said I, 
 suddenly emboldened to look in his face. " Have you, Avho 
 have seen so much more of life, experienced the chilling influ 
 ences which you deprecate for me ? " 
 
 "I am naturally suspicious and distrustful," he answered. 
 " Have you never been told so ? " 
 
 " If I have, it required your own assertion to make me 
 believe it." 
 
 " Do you not see the shadow on my brow ? It has been 
 there since my cradle hours. It was born with me, and is a 
 part of myself, just as much as the shadow I cast upon the 
 sunshine. I can no more remove it than I could the thunder 
 cloud from Jehovah s arch." 
 
 I trembled at the strength of his language, and it seemed as 
 if the shadow were stealing over my own soul. His employ- 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 127 
 
 ment was prophetic. He was pulling the rose-leaves from my 
 basket, and scattering them unconsciously on the floor. 
 
 See what I have done," said he, looking down on the 
 wreck. 
 
 " So the roses of confidence are scattered and destroyed by 
 the cruel hand of mistrust," cried I, stooping to gather the 
 fallen petals. 
 
 " Let them be," said he, sadly, " you cannot restore them." 
 
 " I know it ; but I can remove the ruins." 
 
 I was quite distressed at the turn the conversation had taken. 
 I could not bear to think that one to whom the Creator a had 
 been so bountiful of his gifts, should appreciate so little the 
 blessings given. He, to talk of shadows, in the blazing noon 
 day of fortune ; to pant with thirst, when wave swelling after 
 wave of pure crystal water wooed with refreshing coolness 
 his meeting lips. 
 
 Oh^ starver in the midst of God s plenty ! think of the wretched 
 sons of famine, and be wise. 
 
 " You must have a strange power over me," said he, rising 
 and walking to one of the alcoves, in which the books were 
 arranged. " Seldom indeed do I allude to my own individuality. 
 Forget it. I have been very happy lately. My soul, like a 
 high mountain, lifts itself into the sunshine, leaving the vapors 
 and clouds rolling below. 0^ have been breathing an atmosphere 
 pure and fresh as the world s first morning, redolent with the 
 fragrance of Eden s virgin blossoms." 
 
 He paused a moment, then approaching his own portrait, 
 glanced from it to the flower girl, and back again from the 
 flower girl to his own image. 
 
 " Clouds and sunshine," he exclaimed, " flowers and thorns ; 
 such is the union nature loves. And is it not well ? Clouds 
 temper the dazzle of the sunbeams, thorns protect the tender 
 flowers. Have you read many of these books ? " he asked, 
 with a sudden transition. 
 
 " A great many," I answered, unspeakably relieved to hear 
 him resume his natural tone and manner; "too many for my 
 mind s good." 
 
128 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " How so ? These are all select works, golden sheaves 
 of knowledge, gathered from the chaff and bound by the reap 
 ing hand." 
 
 " I mean that I cannot read with moderation. My rapid 
 eye takes in more than my judgment can criticize or my 
 memory retain. That is one reason why I like to hear another 
 read. Sound does not travel with the rapidity of light, and 
 then the echo lingers in the ear." 
 
 " Yes. It is charming when the eye of one and the ear of 
 another dwell in sympathy on the same inspiring sentiments ; 
 when the reader, glowing with enthusiasm, turns from the page 
 before him to a living page, printed by the hand of God, in 
 fair, divine characters. It is like looking from the shining 
 heavens to a clear, crystallized stream, and seeing its glories 
 reflected there, and our own image likewise, tremulously bright." 
 
 " Oh ! " thought I, " how many times have I thus listened ; 
 but has he ever thus read ? " 
 
 I wish I could recollect all the conversation of the morning, 
 it was so rich and varied. I sat, unconscious of the fading 
 flowers and the passing moments ; unconscious of the faint 
 vibration of that deep, under chord, which breathes in low, pas 
 sionate strains, life s tender and pathetic mirror. 
 
 " I am glad you like this room," he continued. " Here you 
 can sit, queen of the past, surrounded by beings more glorious 
 than those that walk the earth or dwell in air or sea. You 
 travel not, yet the wonders of earth s various climes are around 
 and about you. Buried cities are exhumed at your bidding, 
 and their dim palaces glitter once more with burning gold. 
 And here, above all the Eleusinian mysteries of the human 
 heart are laid bare, without the necessity of revealing your own. 
 But I am detaining you too long. Your languid blossoms 
 reproach me. When you come here again, do not forget that 
 we have here thought and felt in unison*" 
 
 Just as he was leaving the library, Mrs. Lin wood entered. 
 She started on seeing him, and her eye rested on me with an 
 anxious, troubled look. 
 
 " You are become an early riser, my son," she said. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 129 
 
 " You encourage so excellent a habit, do you not, my 
 mother ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; but it seems to me a walk in the fresh morning 
 air would be more health-giving than a seat within walls, damp 
 with the, mould of antiquity." 
 
 " We have brought the dewy morning within doors," said he ; 
 while I, gathering flowers, basket, and hat, waited for Mrs. Lin- 
 wood to move, that I might leave the room. She stood between 
 me and the threshold, and for the first time I noticed in her 
 face a resemblance to her son. It might be because a slight 
 cloud rested on her brow. 
 
 " You will not have time to arrange your flowers this morn 
 ing," she gravely observed to me. " It is almost the breakfast 
 hour, and you are still in your garden costume." 
 
 My eyes bowed beneath her mildly rebuking glance, and the 
 fear of her displeasure chilled the warm rapture which had left 
 its glow upon my cheek. 
 
 " Let me assist you," he cried, in an animated tone. " It 
 was I who encroached on your time, and must bear the blame, 
 if blame indeed there be. There is a homely proverb, that 
 1 many hands make light work. Come, let us prove its truth." 
 
 I thought Mrs. Linwood sighed, as he followed me into the 
 drawing-room, and with quick, graceful fingers, made ample 
 amends for the negligence he had caused. His light, careless 
 manner restored me to ease, and at breakfast Mrs. Limvood s 
 countenance wore its usual expression of calm benevolence. 
 
 Had I done wrong ? I had sought no clandestine interview. 
 Why should I ? It was foolish to wish to look at the beautiful 
 flower girl ; but it was a natural, innocent wish, born of some 
 thing purer and better than vanity and self-love. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 I LINGERED after school was dismissed, to ask permission 
 of Mr. Regulus to attend the commencement. It was Mrs. 
 Lin wood s wish, and of course a law to me. 
 
 " Will you release me one week before the session closes ? " 
 I asked, " Mrs. Linwood does not wish to leave me behind, but 
 I do not care much to go." 
 
 " Of course I will release you, my child, but it will seem as 
 if the flower season were past when you are gone. I wonder 
 now, how I ever taught without your assistance. I wonder 
 what I shall do when you leave me ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Linwood wished me to say to you," said I, quite 
 touched by his kind, affectionate manner, " that she does not 
 wish me to renew our engagement. She will take me to town 
 next winter, satisfied for the present with the discipline I have 
 experienced under your guardian care." 
 
 " So soon ! " he exclaimed, " I was not prepared for this." 
 
 " So soon, Mr. Regulus ? I have been with you one long 
 year." 
 
 " It may have seemed long to you, but it has been short as a 
 dream to me. A very pleasant time has it been, too pleasant 
 to last." 
 
 He took up his dark, formidable ferula, and leaned his fore 
 head thoughtfully upon it. 
 
 " And it has been pleasant to me, Mr. Regulus. I dreaded 
 it very much at first, but every step I have taken in the path 
 of instruction has been made smooth and green beneath my feet. 
 No dull, lagging hour has dragged me backward in my daily 
 duties. The dear children have been good and affectionate, 
 
 (130) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 131 
 
 and you, my dear master, have crowned me with lovingkind- 
 ness irom day to day. How shall I convince you of my grati 
 tude, and what return can I make for your even parental care ? " 
 
 I spoke earnestly, for my heart was in my words. His unva 
 rying gentleness and tenderness to me, (since that one fiery 
 shower that converted for a time the Castalian fountain into a 
 Dead Sea,) had won my sincere and deep regard. He had 
 seemed lately rather more reserved than usual, and I valued 
 still more his undisguised expressions of interest and affection. 
 
 " You owe me nothing," said he, and I could not help notic 
 ing an unwonted trepidation in his manner, and on one sallow 
 cheek a deep flush was spreading. " Long years of kindness, 
 tenfold to mine, could not atone for the harshness and injustice 
 of which I was once guilty. You will go into the world and 
 blush like Waller s rose, to be so admired. You will be sur 
 rounded by new friends, new lovers, and look back to these 
 walls as to a prison-house, and to me, as the grim jailer of your 
 youth." 
 
 " No indeed, Mr. Regulus ; you wrong yourself and me. 
 Memory will hang many a sweet garland on these classic walls, 
 and will turn gratefully to you, as the benefactor of my child 
 hood, the mentor of my growing years." 
 
 My voice choked. A strange dread took possession of me, 
 he looked so agitated, so little like himself. His hand trembled 
 so that it dropped the ruler, that powerful hand, in whose strong 
 grasp I had seen the pale delinquent writhe in terror. I hardly 
 know what I dreaded, but the air seemed thick and oppressive, 
 and I longed to escape into the open sunshine. 
 
 " Gabriella, my child," said he, " wait one moment. I did 
 not think it would require so much courage to confess so much 
 weakness. I have been indulging in dreams so w r ild, yet so 
 sweet, that I fear to breathe them, knowing that I must wake to 
 the cold realities of life. I know not how it is, but you have 
 twined yourself about my heart so gradually, so gently, but so 
 strongly, that I cannot separate you from it. A young and 
 fragrant vine, you have covered it with beauty and freshness. 
 You have diffused within it an atmosphere of spring. You 
 
132 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 thought the cold mathematician, the stern philosopher could not 
 feel, but I tell thee, child, we are the very ones that can and do 
 feel. There is as much difference between our love and the 
 boyish passion which passes for love, as there is between the 
 flash of the glowworm and the welding heat that fuses bars of 
 steel. Oh ! Gabriella, do not laugh at this confession, or deem 
 it lightly made. I hope nothing, I ask nothing ; and yet if 
 you could, if you would trust your orphan youth to my 
 keeping, I would guard it as the most sacred trust God ever 
 gave to man." 
 
 He paused from intense emotion, and wiped the drops of 
 perspiration from his forehead, while I stood ready to sink with 
 shame and sorrow. No glow of triumph, no elation of grate- 
 ful vanity warmed my heart, or exalted my pride. I felt hum 
 bled, depressed. Where I had been accustomed to look up 
 with respect, I could not bear to look down in pity, it was so 
 strange, so unexpected. I was stunned, bewildered. The 
 mountain had lost its crown, it had fallen in an avalanche at 
 my feet. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Regulus ! " said I, when I at last liberated my im 
 prisoned voice, " you honor me too much. I never dreamed of 
 such a, such a distinction. I am not worthy of it, indeed 
 I am not. It makes me very unhappy to think of your cher 
 ishing such feelings for me, who have looked up to you so long 
 with so much veneration and respect. I will always esteem 
 and revere you, dear Mr. Regulus, always think of you with 
 gratitude and affection ; but do not, I entreat you, ever allude 
 again to any other sentiment. You do not know how very mis 
 erable it makes me." 
 
 I tried to express myself in the gentlest manner possible, but 
 the poor man had lost all command of his feelings. He had 
 confined them in his breast so long, that the moment he re 
 leased them, they swelled and rose like the genius liberated 
 from the chest of the fisherman, and refused to return to the 
 prison-house they had quitted. His brows contracted, his lips 
 quivered, and turning aside with a spasmodic gesture, he cov 
 ered his face with his handkerchief. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 133 
 
 I could not bear this, it quite broke my heart. I felt as 
 remorseful as if every tear he was hiding was a drop of blood. 
 Walking hastily to him, and laying my hand on his arm, I ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " Do n t, my dear master ! " and burst into tears myself. 
 
 How foolish we must have appeared to a bystander, who 
 knew the cause of our tears, one weeping that he loved too 
 well, the other that she could not love in return. How ridicu 
 lous to an uninterested person would that tall, awkward, 
 grave man seem, in love with a young girl so much his junior, 
 so childlike and so unconscious of the influence she had ac 
 quired. 
 
 " How foolish this is ! " cried he, as if participating in these 
 sentiments. Then removing the handkerchief from his face, he 
 ran his fingers vigorously through his hair, till it stood up 
 frantically round his brow, drew the sleeves of his coat strenu 
 ously over his wrists, and straightening himself to his tall 
 height, seemed resolved to be a man once more. I smiled after 
 wards, when I recollected his figure; but I did not then, 
 thank heaven, I did not smile then, I would not have don^e it 
 for the crown the Bourbons lost." 
 
 Anxious to close a scene so painful, I approached the door, 
 though with a lingering, hesitating step. I wanted to say 
 something, but knew not what to utter. 
 
 " You will let me be your friend still," said he, taking my 
 hand in both his. " You will not think worse of me, for a 
 weakness which has so much to excuse it. And, Gabriella, my 
 dear child, should the time ever come, when you need a friend 
 and counsellor, should the sky so bright now be darkened with 
 clouds, remember there is one who would willingly die to save 
 you from sorrow or evil. Will you remember this ? " 
 
 " Oh, M-. Regulus, how could I forget it ? " 
 
 " There are those younger and more attractive," he continued, 
 " who may profess more, and yet feel less. I would not, however, 
 be unjust. God save me from the meanness of envy, the baseness 
 of jealousy. I fear I did not do justice to young Clyde, when I 
 warned you of his attentions. I believe he is a highly honor- 
 
 12 
 
134 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 able young man. Ernest Linwood," he paused, and his 
 shaded eyes sought mine, with a glance of penetrating power, - 
 "is, I am told, a man of rare and fascinating qualities. He is 
 rich beyond his need, and will occupy a splendid position in 
 the social world. His mother will probably have very exalted 
 views with regard to the connections he may form. Forgive 
 me if I am trespassing on forbidden ground. I did not mean, 
 I have no right," 
 
 He stopped, for my confusion was contagious. My face crim 
 soned, even my fingers were suffused with the rosy hue of 
 shame. Nor was it shame alone. Indignation mingled with it 
 its deeper dye. 
 
 " If you suppose, Mr, Regulus," said I, in a wounded and 
 excited tone, " that 1 have any aspirations, that would conflict 
 with Mrs. Linwood s ambitious views, you wrong me very 
 much. Oh ! if I thought that he, that she, that you, or any 
 body in the world could believe such a thing " 
 
 I could not utter another word. I remembered Mrs. Lin- 
 wood s countenance when she entered the library. I remem 
 bered many things, which might corroborate my fears. 
 
 " You are as guileless as the unweaned lamb, Gabriella, and 
 long, long may you remain so," he answered, with a gentleness 
 that disarmed my anger. " Mine was an unprompted sugges 
 tion, about as wise, I perceive, as my remarks usually are. I 
 am a sad blunderer. May heaven pardon the pain I have 
 caused, for the sake of my pure intentions. I do not believe it 
 possible for a designing thought to enter your mind, or a feeling 
 to find admittance into your heart, that angels might not cherish. 
 But you are so young and inexperienced, so unsuspecting and 
 confiding ; but no matter, God bless you, and keep you for 
 ever under his most holy guardianship ! " 
 
 Wringing my hand so hard that it achecj long afterwards, he 
 turned away, and descended the steps more rapidly than he had 
 ever done before. In his excitement he forgot his hat, and was 
 pursuing his way bareheaded, through the sunny atmosphere. 
 
 " He must not go through town in that way, for the boys to 
 laugh at him," thought I, catching up his hat and running to 
 the door. 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 135 
 
 " Mr. Regulus ! " I cried, waving it above my head, to attract 
 his attention. 
 
 He started, turned, saw the hat, run his fingers through his 
 long hair, smiled, and came back. I met him more than half 
 way. 
 
 " I did not know that I had left my head, as well as my heart 
 behind," said he, with a sickly effort to be facetious ; " thank 
 you, God bless you once again." 
 
 With another iron pressure of my aching hand, he dashed his 
 hat on his lion-like head and left me. 
 
 I walked home as one in a dream, wondering if this in 
 terview were real or ideal ; wondering if the juice of the 
 milk-white flower, " made purple by love s wand," had been 
 squeezed by fairy fingers into the eyes of my preceptor, in his 
 slumbering hours, to cause this strange passion ; wondering why 
 the spirit of love, like the summer wind, stealing softly through 
 the whispering boughs, breathes where it listeth, and we cannot 
 tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth ; and wondering 
 most of all if but I cannot describe the thoughts that drifted 
 through my mind, vague and changing as the clouds that went 
 hurrying after each other over the deep blue ether. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT day ! a day of feverish anxiety and ex 
 citement to the young student, who is to step forth before the 
 public eye, a candidate for the laurels of fame ; a day of wea 
 riness and stiffness to the dignified professors, obliged to sit hour 
 after hour, listening to the florid eloquence whose luxuriance 
 they have in vain attempted to prune, or trying to listen while 
 the spirit yawns and stretches itself to its drowsy length ; a 
 day of intense interest to the young maiden, who sees among 
 the youthful band of aspirants one who is the " bright particular 
 star" round which her pure and trembling hopes revolve. 
 
 It was a day of excitement to me, for every thing was novel, 
 and therefore interesting. It was the first time I had ever been 
 in a dense crowd, and I felt the electric fluid, always collected 
 where the great heart of humanity is throbbing, thrilling in my 
 veins, and ready to flash at the master-stroke of eloquence. I 
 was dazzled by the brilliant display of beauty and fashion that 
 lighted up the classic walls as with living sunbeams. Such 
 clusters of mimic blossoms and flowing ringlets wreathed to 
 gether round fair, blooming faces ; such a cloud of soft, airy 
 drapery floating over lithe figures, swaying forward like light 
 boughs agitated by the wind ; such a fluttering of snowy 
 fans, making the cool, pleasant sound of rain drops pattering 
 among April leaves ; such bright eager eyes, turned at every 
 sounding step towards the open door, I had never looked 
 upon the like before. I sat in a dream of delight, without 
 thinking that it might be thought vulgar to appear delighted, 
 and still more to express undisguised admiration. 
 
 I dared not look to the platform, where the faculty and stu- 
 
 (136) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 137 
 
 dents were arranged in imposing ranks, for there was one pair 
 of familiar, sparkling eyes, that were sure to beat mine back 
 with their steadfast gaze. I did not like this persevering scru 
 tiny, for I was sure it would attract the attention of others, and 
 then draw it on myself. He had grown taller, Richard Clyde 
 had, since I had seen him, his countenance was more manly, 
 his manner more polished. He had been with us the evening 
 before, but the room was crowded with company, and I was 
 careful not to give him a moment s opportunity of speaking to 
 me alone. But I read too well in his sincere and earnest eyes, 
 that time had wrought no change in the fervor of his feelings, 
 or the constancy of his attachment. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood, though surrounded by friends of the most 
 distinguished character, honored him. by signal marks of atten 
 tion. I was proud of him as a friend. Why did he wish to be 
 more? 
 
 " What a fine young man Clyde is ! " I heard some one re 
 mark who sat behind us. " It is said he is the most promising 
 student in the university." 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. " I have heard that several wealthy 
 gentlemen in Boston are going to send him to Europe to com 
 plete his education, as his own income will not allow him to 
 incur the expense." 
 
 " That is a great compliment," observed the first voice, " and 
 I have no doubt he deserves it. They say, too, that he is be 
 trothed to a young girl in the country, very pretty, but in most 
 indigent circumstances, an early attachment, children s ro 
 mance." 
 
 Was it possible that village gossip had reached these venera 
 ble walls ? But hark to the other voice. 
 
 " I have heard so, but they say she has been adopted by a 
 rich lady, whose name I have forgotten. Her own mother was 
 of very mysterious and disreputable character, I am told, 
 whom no one visited or respected. Quite an outcast." 
 
 I started as if an arrow had passed through my ears, or 
 rather entered them, for it seemed quivering there. Never 
 before had I heard one sullying word breathed on the spotless 
 
 12* 
 
138 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 snow of my mother s character. Is it strange that the cold, 
 venomous tongue of slander, hissing at my very back, should 
 make me shudder and recoil as if a serpent were there ? 
 
 A hand touched my shoulder, lightly, gently, but I knew 
 its touch, though never felt but once before. I looked up in 
 voluntarily, and met the eyes of Ernest Linwood, who was 
 standing close to the seat I occupied. I did not know he was 
 there. He had wedged the crowd silently, gradually, till he 
 reached the spot he had quitted soon after our entrance, to 
 greet his former class mates. I knew by his countenance that 
 he had heard all, and a sick, deadly feeling came over me. He, 
 to hear my mother s name made a byword and reproach, my 
 self alluded to as the indigent daughter of an outcast, he, 
 who seemed already lifted as high above me on the eagle wings 
 of fortune, as the eyry of the king-bird is above the nest of 
 the swallow, it was more than I could bear. 
 
 I said I knew by his countenance that he had heard all. I 
 never saw such an expression as his face wore, such burning 
 indignation, such withering scorn. I trembled to think of the 
 central fires from which such flames darted. As he caught my 
 glance, an instantaneous change came over it. Compassion 
 softened every lineament. Still his eye of power held me 
 down. It said, " be quiet, be calm, I am near, be not afraid." 
 
 " I wish I could get you a glass of water," said he, in a low 
 voice, for I suppose I looked deadly pale ; " but it would be im 
 possible I fear in this crowd, the aisles are impenetrable." 
 
 " Thank you," I answered, " there is no need, but if I 
 could only leave." 
 
 I looked despairingly at the masses of living beings on every 
 side, crowding the pews, filling the aisles, standing on the win 
 dow-sills, on the tops of the pews, leaning from the gallery, 
 and felt that I was a prisoner. The sultry air of August, 
 confined in the chapel walls, and deprived of its vital principle 
 by so many heaving lungs, weighed oppressively on mine. I 
 could feel behind me the breathing of the lips of slander, and 
 it literally seemed to scorch me. Ernest took my fan from 
 my hand and fanned me without intermission, or I think I 
 must have fainted. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 139 
 
 As I sat with downcast eyes, whose drooping lashes were 
 heavy with unshed tears, I saw a glass of water held before 
 me by an unsteady hand. I looked up and saw Richard Clyde, 
 his student s robe of flowing black silk gathered up by his left 
 arm, who had literally forced his way through a triple row of 
 men. We were very near the platform, there being but one 
 row of pews between. 
 
 I drank the water eagerly, gratefully. Even before those 
 blistering words were uttered, I had felt as if a glass of cold 
 water would be worth all the gems of the East ; now it was life 
 itself. / 
 
 " Are you ill, Gabriella ? " whispered Mrs. Linwood, who 
 with Edith sat directly in front, and whose eyes had watched 
 anxiously the motions of Richard. " Ah ! I see this heat is 
 killing you." 
 
 " That is she, I do believe," hissed the serpent tongue be 
 hind me. 
 
 " Hush, she may hear you." 
 
 All was again still around me, the stillness of the multitudi 
 nous sea, for every wave of life heaved restlessly, producing a 
 kind of murmur, like that of rustling leaves in an autumnal 
 forest. Then a sound loud as the thunders of the roaring ocean 
 came rushing on the air. It was the burst of acclamation which 
 greeted Richard Clyde, first in honor though last in time. I 
 bent my ear to listen, but the words blent confusedly together, 
 forming one wave of utterance, that rolled on without leaving 
 one idea behind. I knew he was eloquent, from the enthusias 
 tic applause which occasionally interrupted him, but I had 
 lost the power of perception ; and had Demosthenes risen from 
 his grave, it would scarcely have excited in me any emotion. 
 
 Was this my introduction to that world, that great world, 
 of which I had heard and thought and dreamed so much ? How 
 soon had my garlands faded, my fine gold become dim ! 
 Could they not have spared me one day, me, who had never in 
 jured them ? And yet they might aim their barbed darts at me. 
 I would not care for that, oh, no, it was not that. It was the 
 blow that attacked an angel mother s fame. O my mother ! 
 
140 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 could they not spare thee even in thy grave, where the wicked 
 are said to cease from troubling and the weary are at rest ? 
 Could they not let thee sleep in peace, thou tempest-tost and 
 weary hearted, even in the dark and narrow house, sacred from 
 the footstep of the living ? 
 
 Another thundering burst of applause called my spirit from 
 the grass-grown sod, made damp and green by the willow s shade, 
 to the crowded church and the bustle and confusion of life. 
 Then followed the presentation of the parchment rolls and the 
 ceremonies usual at the winding up of this time-honored day. 
 It all seeme$l like unmeaning mummery to me. The majestic 
 president, with his little flat black cap, set like a tile on the top 
 of his head, was a man of pasteboard and springs, and even the 
 beautiful figures that lighted up the walls had lost their coloring 
 and life. There was, indeed, a wondrous change, independent 
 of that within my own soul. The excessive heat had wilted 
 these flowers of loveliness and faded their bright hues. Their 
 uncurled ringlets hung dangling down their cheeks, whose roses 
 were heightened to an unbecoming crimson, or withered to a 
 sickly pallor ; their gossamer drapery, deprived of its delicate 
 stiffening, flapped like the loose sails of a vessel wet by the 
 spray. Here and there was a blooming maiden, still as fair 
 and cool as if sprinkled with dew, round whom the atmosphere 
 seemed refreshed as by the sparkling of a jet d eau. These, 
 like myself, were novices, who had brought with them the dewy 
 innocence of life s morning hours ; but they had not, like me, 
 heard the hissing of the adder among their roses. 
 
 "JBe calm, be courageous," said Ernest, in a scarcely 
 audible tone, as bending down he gave the fan into my hand ; 
 11 the arrow rebounds from an impenetrable surface." 
 
 As we turned to leave the church, I felt my hand drawn 
 round the arm of Richard Clyde. How he had cleft the living 
 mass so quickly I could not tell ; but he had made his way 
 where an arrow could hardly penetrate. I looked round for 
 Edith, but Ernest watched over her, like an earthly provi 
 dence. My backward glance to her prevented my seeing the 
 faces of those who were seated behind me. But what mattered 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 141 
 
 it ? They were strangers, and heaven grant that they would 
 ever remain so. 
 
 " Are you entirely recovered ? " asked Richard, in an anxious 
 tone. " I never saw any one s countenance change so instan 
 taneously as yours. You were as white as your cambric 
 handkerchief. You are not accustomed to such stifling crowds, 
 where we seem plunged in an exhausted receiver." 
 
 " I never wish to be in such another," I answered, with em 
 phasis. " I never care to leave home again." 
 
 " I am sorry your first impressions should have been so 
 disagreeable, but I hope you have been interested in some 
 small degree. You do not know what inspiration there was in 
 your presence. At first, I thought I would rather be shot from 
 the cannon s mouth than speak in your hearing ; but after the 
 first shock, you were like a fountain of living waters playing on 
 my soul." 
 
 Poor Richard ! how could I tell him that I had not heard 
 understandingly one sentence that he uttered ? or how could 
 I explain the cause of my mental distraction ? He had cast 
 his pearls to the wind ; his diamonds to the sand. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood was a guest of the president, who was an 
 intimate and valued friend. I would have given worlds for a 
 little solitary nook, where I could hide myself from every eye ; 
 for a seat beneath the wild oaks that girdled the cottage of my 
 childhood ; but the house was thronged with the literati of the 
 State, and wherever I turned I met the gaze of strangers. If 
 I could have seen Mrs. Linwood alone, or Edith alone, and told 
 them how wantonly, how cruelly my feelings had been wounded, 
 it would have relieved the fulness, the oppression of my heart. 
 But that was impossible. Mrs. Linwood s commanding social 
 position, her uncommon and varied powers of conversation, 
 the excellence and dignity of her character, made her the 
 cynosure of the literary circle. Edith, too, from her exquisite 
 loveliness, the sweetness of her disposition, and her personal 
 misfortune, which endeared her to her friends by the tenderness 
 and sympathy it excited, was a universal favorite ; and all these 
 attractive qualities in both were gilded and enhanced by the 
 
142 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 wealth which enabled them to impart, even more than they 
 received. They were at home here, they were in the midst 
 of friends, whose society was congenial to their tastes, and I 
 resolved, whatever I might suffer, not to mar their enjoyment 
 by my selfish griefs. Ernest had heard all, perhaps he be 
 lieved all. He did not know my mother. He had never seen 
 that face of heavenly purity and holy sorrow. Why should he 
 not believe ? 
 
 One thing I could do. I could excuse myself from dinner, 
 and thus secure an hour s quietude. I gave no false plea, when 
 I urged a violent headache as the reason for my seclusion. My 
 temples ached and throbbed as if trying to burst from a metal 
 lic band, and the sun rays, though sifted through curtains of 
 folding lace, fell like needle points on my shrinking eyes. 
 
 " Poor Gabriella ! " said Edith, laying her cool soft hand on 
 my hot brow, " I did not think you were such a tender, green 
 house plant. I cannot bear to leave you here, when you could 
 enjoy such an intellectual banquet below. Let me stay with 
 you. I fear you are really very ill. How unfortunate ! " 
 
 " No, no, dear Edith ; you must not think of such a thing. 
 Just close those blinds, and give me that fan, and I shall be 
 very comfortable here. If possible let no one come in. If I 
 could sleep, this paroxysm will pass over." 
 
 " There, sleep if you can, dear Gabriella, and be bright for 
 the evening party. You knew the dresses mamma gave us for 
 the occasion, both alike. I could not think of wearing mine, 
 unless you were with me, and you look so charmingly in 
 white ! " 
 
 Edith had such a sweet, coaxing way with her, she magnet 
 ized pain and subdued self-distrust. The mere touch of her 
 gentle hand had allayed the fever of my brain, and one glance 
 of her loving blue eye tempered the anguish of my spirit. She 
 lingered, unwilling to leave me, drew the blinds together, 
 making a soft twilight amid the glare of day, saturated my hand 
 kerchief with cologne and laid it on my temples, and placing a 
 beautiful bouquet of flowers, an offering to herself, on my pil 
 low, kissed me, and left me. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 143 
 
 I watched the sound of her retreating footsteps, or rather of 
 her crutches, till they were no longer heard ; then burying my 
 face in my pillow, the sultry anguish of my heart was drenched 
 in tears. Oh ! what a relieving shower ! It was the thunder- 
 shower of the tropics, not the slow, drizzling rain of colder climes. 
 I wept till the pillow was as wet as the turf on which the heavens 
 have been weeping. I clasped it to my bosom as a shield 
 against invisible foes, but there was no sympathy in its downy 
 softness. I sighed for a pillow beneath whose gentle Leavings 
 the heart of human kindness beats, I yearned to lay my head 
 on a mother s breast. Yea, cold and breathless as it was now, 
 beneath the clods of the valley, it would still be a sacred resting- 
 place to me. The long pressure of the grave-sods could not 
 crush out the impression of that love, stronger than death, 
 deeper than the grave. 
 
 Had the time arrived when I might claim the manuscript, 
 left as a hallowed legacy to the orphan, who had no other inheri 
 tance ? Had I awakened to the knowledge of woman s destiny 
 to love and suffer ? Dare I ask myself this question ? Through 
 the morning twilight of my heart, was not a star trembling, 
 whose silver rays would never be quenched, save in the night 
 shades of death ? Was it not time to listen to the warning voice, 
 whose accents, echoing from the tomb, must have the power and 
 grandeur of prophecy ? Yes ! I would ask Mrs. Linwood for 
 my mother s history, as soon as we returned to Grandison 
 Place ; and if I found the shadow of disgrace rested on the mem 
 ory of her I so loved and worshipped, I would fly to the utter 
 most parts of the earth, to avoid that searching eye, which, next 
 to the glance of Omnipotence, I would shun in guilt and shame. 
 
 " They say ! " Who are they ? who are the cowled monks, 
 the hooded friars who glide with shrouded faces in the proces 
 sion of life, muttering in an unknown tongue words of mysteri 
 ous import ? Who are they ? the midnight assassins of reputa 
 tion, who lurk in the by-lanes of society, with dagger tongues 
 sharpened by invention and envenomed by malice, to draw the 
 blood of innocence, and, hyena-like, banquet on the dead ? Who 
 are they ? They are a multitude no man can number, black- 
 
144 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 stoled familiars of the inquisition of slander, searching for vic 
 tims in every city, town, and village, wherever the heart of 
 humanity throbs, or the ashes of mortality find rest. 
 
 Oh, coward, coward world skulkers ! Give me the bold 
 brigand, who thunders along the highways with flashing weapon 
 that cuts the sunbeams as well as the shades. Give me the 
 pirate, who unfurls the black flag, emblem of his terrible trade, 
 and shows the plank which your doomed feet must tread ; but 
 save me from the they-sayers of society, whose knives are hid 
 den in a velvet sheath, whose bridge of death, is woven of flow 
 ers ; and who spread, with invisible poison, even the spotless 
 whiteness of the winding-sheet. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " GABRIELLA, awake ! " 
 
 " Mother, is the day dawning ? " 
 
 " My child, the sun is near his setting ; you have slumbered 
 long." 
 
 I dreamed it was my mother s voice that awakened me, 
 then it seemed the voice of Richard Clyde, and I was lying 
 under the great shadow of the oak, where he had found me 
 years before half drowned in tears. 
 
 " Gabriella, my dear, it is time to dress for the evening." 
 
 This time I recognized the accents of Mrs. Lin wood, and I 
 rose at once to a sitting position, wondering if it were the rising 
 or the declining day that shone around me. Sleep had left its 
 down on my harassed spirits, and its balm on my aching head. 
 I felt languid, but tranquil ; and when Mrs. Linwood affection 
 ately but decidedly urged upon me the necessity of rising and pre 
 paring to descend to the drawing-room, I submissively obeyed. 
 She must have seen that I had been in tears, but she made no 
 allusion to them. Pier manner was unusually kind and tender ; 
 but there was an expression in her serene but commanding 
 eye, that bade me rise superior to the weakness that had sub 
 dued me. Had her son spoken of the cause of my emotion ? 
 
 A few moments after, Edith entered, and her mother rejoined 
 her friends below. 
 
 Edith held in her hand a fresh bouquet of the most exqui 
 site green-house plants, among which the scarlet geranium ex 
 hibited its glowing blossoms. She held it towards me, turned 
 it like a prism in various directions to catch the changing rays, 
 while its odoriferous breath perfumed the whole apartment. 
 
 13 (1451 
 
146 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " I am glad you have another, Edith," I said, looking at the 
 wilted flowers on my pillow. " These have fulfilled their mis 
 sion most sweetly. I have no doubt they inspired soothing 
 dreams, though I cannot remember them distinctly." 
 
 * Oil ! these are yours" she answered, " sent by a friend who 
 was quite distressed at your absence from the dinner-table. 
 Cannot you guess the donor ? " 
 
 " It will not require much acuteness," replied I, taking the 
 flowers, and though I could not help admiring their beauty, 
 and feeling grateful for the attention, a shade of regret clouded 
 their welcome ; " I have so few friends it is easy to conjecture 
 who thus administers to my gratification." 
 
 " Well, who is it ? You do not hazard the utterance of the 
 name." 
 
 " No one but Richard Clyde would think of giving me a 
 token like this. They are very, very sweet, and yet I wish he 
 had not sent them." 
 
 " Ungrateful Gabriella ! No one but Richard ! A host of 
 common beings melted into one, could not make the equal of 
 the friend who made me the bearer of this charming offering. 
 Is the gift of Ernest greeted with such indifference ? " 
 
 " Ernest ! " I repeated, and the blood bounded in my veins 
 like a stream leaping over a mountain rock. " Is he indeed so 
 kind?" 
 
 I bent my head over the beautiful messengers, to hide the joy 
 too deep for words, the gratitude too intense for the gift. As I 
 thus looked down into the heart of the flowers, I caught a 
 glimpse of something white folded among the green leaves. 
 Edith s back was turned as she smoothed the folds of an India 
 muslin dress that lay upon the bed. I drew out the paper with 
 a tremulous hand, and read these few pencilled words : 
 
 " Sweet flower girl of the north ! be not cast down. The 
 most noxious wind changes not the purity of marble ; neither 
 can an idle breath shake the confidence born of unsullied inno 
 cence." 
 
 These words pencilled by his own hand, were addressed to 
 me. They were embalmed in fragrance and imbedded in 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 147 
 
 bloom, and henceforth they were engraven on tablets on which 
 the hand of man had never before traced a character, which 
 the whole world might not peruse. 
 
 Oh, what magic there was in those little words ! Slander had 
 lost its sting, and malice its venom, at least for the present hour. 
 I put the talisman in my bosom and the flowers in water, for 
 they might fade. 
 
 There was no one in the room but Edith and myself. She 
 sat on the side of the bed, a cloud of white fleecy drapery 
 floating over her lap ; a golden arrow, the very last in the 
 day, God s quiver darted through the half-open blinds into 
 the clusters of her fair ringlets. She was the most unaffected 
 of human beings, and yet her every attitude was the perfection 
 of grace, as if she sat as a model to the sculptor. I thought 
 there was a shade of sadness on her brow. Perhaps she had 
 seen me conceal the note, and imagined something clandestine 
 and mysterious between me and her brother, that brother 
 whose exclusive devotion had constituted the chief happiness 
 of her life. Though it was a simple note, and the words were 
 few, intended only to comfort and sustain, they were of such 
 priceless value to me, I could not bear that even Edith s eye 
 should become familiar with its contents. But her love and 
 confidence were too dear to be sacrificed to a refinement of ro 
 mance. 
 
 " Dear Edith," said I, putting the note in her hand, and an 
 arm round her neck, " it was a gift of consolation you brought 
 me ; " and then I told her all that I had overheard, and of the 
 exceeding bitterness of my anguish. 
 
 "I know it, mamma and I both know it, brother told 
 us. I did not speak of it, for you looked as if you had forgot 
 ten it after I came in, and I did not wish you to recall it. You 
 must forget it, indeed you must. Such cruel insinuations can 
 never alienate from you the friends who love you. They rather 
 bind you closer to our hearts. Come, we have no time to lose. 
 You know we must assist each other." 
 
 I insisted on being her handmaid first, and lingered over her 
 toilet till she literally escaped from my hands and drew behind 
 
148 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 the lace curtains like a star behind a cloud. Our dresses were 
 alike, as the generous Edith had willed. They were of the 
 most exquisite India muslin, simply but elegantly decorated 
 with the finest of lace. I had never before been arrayed for an 
 evening party, and as the gauzy fulness of drapery fell so 
 softly and redundantly over the form I had been accustomed to 
 see in the sad-colored robes of mourning, I hardly recognized 
 my own lineaments. There was something so light, so ethereal 
 and graceful in the dress, my spirit caught its airiness and 
 seemed borne upwards as on wings of clown. I Avas about to 
 clasp on my precious necklace and bracelets of hair, when ob 
 serving Edith s beautiful pearl ornaments, corresponding so 
 well with the delicacy and whiteness of her apparel, I laid them 
 aside, resolving to wear no added decoration but the flowers, 
 consecrated as the gift of Ernest. 
 
 " Come here, Gabriella, let me arrange that fall of lace 
 behind," said Edith, extending a beautiful arm, on which the 
 pearl-drops lay like dew on a lily. Both arms passed round 
 my neck, and I found it encircled like her own with pearls. 
 Then turning me round, she clasped first one arm, and then the 
 other with fairy links of pearl, and then she flung a roseate of 
 these ocean flowers round my head, smiling all the time and 
 uttering exclamations of delighted admiration. 
 
 " Now do n t cry, Gabriella dear. You look so cool so 
 fair so like a snowdrop glittering with dew. And do n t put 
 your arms round my neck, beautiful as they are, quite so close. 
 You will spoil my lace, darling. You must just wear arid keep 
 the pearls for the love of me. Mamma sanctions the gift, so 
 you need have no scruples about accepting them. Remember, 
 now, we must have no more diamonds, not one, though of the 
 purest water and sparkling in heaven s own setting." 
 
 What could I say, in answer to such abounding kindness ? 
 In spite of her prohibition the diamonds would mingle with the 
 pearls ; but the sunbeams shone on them both. 
 
 What a day had this been to me ! It seemed as if I had 
 lived years in the short space of a few hours. I had never 
 felt so utterly miserable, not even over my mother s new made 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 149 
 
 grave. I had never felt so supremely happy, so buoyant 
 with hope and joy. The flowers of Ernest, the pearls of 
 Edith, came to me with a message as gladdening as that which 
 waked the silver harpstrings of the morning stars. I did not, 
 I dared not misunderstand the meaning of the first. They were 
 sent as balm to a wounded spirit ; as breathers of hope to the 
 ear of despair ; but it was his hand that administered the balm ; 
 his spirit that inspired the strain. 
 
 " How radiant you look, Gabriella ! " exclaimed Edith, her 
 sweet blue eyes resting on me with affectionate delight. " I 
 am so glad to see you come out of the cloud. Now you justify 
 our pride as well as our affection." 
 
 " But I but all of us look so earthly at your side, Edith " 
 
 " Hush ! flatterer and yet, who would not prefer the beau 
 ty of earth, to the cold idealism of spirit loveliness ? I have 
 never sought the admiration of men. If I look lovely in the 
 eyes of Ernest, it is all I desire. Perhaps all would not believe 
 me ; but you will. I yield you the empire of every heart but 
 his. There, I would not willingly occupy the second place. 
 A strange kind of jealousy, Gabriella ; but I am just so weak." 
 
 She smiled, nay even laughed, called herself very weak, 
 very foolish, but said she could not help it. She believed she 
 was the most selfish of human beings, and feared that this was 
 the right hand to be cut off, the right eye to be plucked out. 
 I was pained to hear her talk in this way ; for I thought if any 
 one ever gained the heart of Ernest, it would be dearly pur 
 chased by the sacrifice of Edith s friendship. But it was only 
 a jesting way of expressing her exceeding love, after all. She 
 was not selfish ; she was all that was disinterested and kind. 
 
 I followed her down stairs into a blaze of light, that at 
 first dazzled and bewildered me. The chandeliers with their 
 myriad pendants of glittering crystal emitted thousands of 
 brilliant coruscations, like wintry boughs loaded with icicles 
 and sparkling in a noonday sun. While through the open 
 windows, the departing twilight mingled its soft duskiness with 
 the splendors of the mimic day. 
 
 Ernest Linwood and Richard Clyde were standing near the 
 13* 
 
150 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 entrance of the door to greet us. The former immediately 
 advanced and gave me his arm, and Richard walked by the 
 side of Edith. I heard him sigh as they fell behind us, and my 
 heart echoed the sound. Yet how could lie sigh with Edith at 
 his side ? As I walked through the illuminated drawing-room, 
 escorted by one on whom the eyes of the fashionable world 
 were eagerly bent, I could not help being conscious of the 
 glances that darted on me from every direction. Ernest Lin- 
 wood was the loadstar of the scene, and whoever he distin 
 guished by his attention must be conspicuous by association. I 
 felt this, but no embarrassment agitated my step or dyed my 
 cheek with blushes. The deep waters were stirred, stirred to 
 their inmost depths, but the surface was calm and unruffled. 
 Mrs. Linwood was at the head of the room, the centre of an intel 
 lectual circle. She was dressed, as usual, in silver gray ; but the 
 texture of her dress was the richest satin, shaded by blonde. 
 The effect was that of a cloud with a silver lining, and surely 
 it was a fitting attire for one who knew how to give brightness 
 to the darkest shadows of life. 
 
 As we approached her, her countenance lighted up with 
 pride and pleasure. I saw she was gratified by my appear 
 ance ; that she was not ashamed of her protegee. Yet as we 
 came nearer, I observed an expression of the most tender 
 anxiety, approaching to sadness, come over her brow. How 
 proud she was of her son ! She looked upon him with a glance 
 that would have been idolatry, had not God said, " Thou shalt 
 not make unto thyself idols, for I am a jealous God." 
 
 She took my hand, and I saw her eye follow the soft tracery 
 of pearl-flowers that enwreathed neck, arms, and brow. She 
 knew who had thus adorned me, and her approving smile sanc 
 tioned the gifts. 
 
 " I rejoice to see you look so well, my dear child," she said, 
 " I feared you might lose the enjoyment of the evening ; but I 
 see no one who has a brighter prospect before them now." 
 
 She introduced me to the friends who surrounded her, and 
 wished to give me a seat near her ; but Ernest resisted the 
 movement, and with a smiling bow passed on. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 151 
 
 " I am not disposed to release you quite so soon," said he, 
 passing out into the piazza. " I see very plainly that if I relin 
 quish my position it will not be easy to secure it again. I am 
 delighted. I am charmed, Gabriella, to see that you have the 
 firmness to resist, as well as the sensibility to feel. I am 
 delighted, too, to see you in the only livery youth and innocence 
 should wear in a festal scene like this. I abhor the gaudy tin- 
 selry which loads the devotees of fashion, indicative of false 
 tastes and false principles ; but white and pearls remind me of 
 every thing pure and holy in nature. In the Bible we read of 
 the white robes of angels and saints. Who ever dreamed of 
 clothing them, in imagination, in dark or party-colored gar 
 ments ? In mythology, the graces, the nymphs, and the muses 
 are represented in snowy garments. In spotless white the 
 bride is led to the marriage shrine, and in white she is pre 
 pared for the last sublime espousals. Do you know," added 
 he, suddenly changing the theme, as if conscious he was 
 touching upon something too solemn, " why I selected the scarlet 
 geranium for one of the blossoms of your bouquet ? The first 
 time I saw you, it glowed in the darkness of your hair like 
 coral in the ocean s heart." 
 
 While he was speaking he broke a sprig from the bouquet 
 and placed it in a wave of my hair, behind the band of pearls. 
 
 " Earth and ocean bring you their tribute," said he, and 
 " heaven too," he added ; for as we passed by the pillars, a moon 
 beam glided in and laid its silver touch on my brow. 
 
 It is Edith s hand that thus adorned me," I answered, un 
 willing he should believe I had been consulting my own ambi 
 tious taste. " Had I been left to myself, I should have sought 
 no ornament but these beautiful flowers, doubly precious for the 
 feelings of kindness and compassion that consecrated their mis 
 sion." 
 
 " Compassion, Gabriella ! I should as soon think of compas 
 sionating the star that shines brightest in the van of night. 
 Compassion looks down ; kindness implies an equal ground ; 
 admiration looks up with the gaze of the astronomer and the 
 worship of the devotee." 
 
152 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " You forget I am but a simple, village rustic. Such exag 
 gerated compliments would suit better the brilliant dames of the 
 city. I would rather a thousand times you would say, Gabri- 
 ella, I do feel kindly towards you, than utter any thing so formal, 
 and apparently so insincere." 
 
 I was really hurt. I thought he was mocking my credulity, 
 or measuring the height and depth of my girlish vanity. I did 
 not want to be compared to a star, a lone and distant star, nor 
 to think of him as an astronomer gazing up at me with tele 
 scopic eye. My heart was overflowing with gentle, natural 
 thoughts. I wanted human sympathy, not cold and glittering 
 compliments. 
 
 " And do you expect to hear the language of nature here, 
 with the buzz of empty tongues and the echo of unmeaning 
 laughs in the ear ; where, if a word of sentiment were over 
 heard, it would be bandied from lip to lip with hollow mockery ? 
 Come with me into the garden, where the flowers blush in their 
 folded leaves, beneath the lovelight of yon gentle moon, where 
 the stilly dews whisper sweet thoughts to the listening heart, 
 and I will tell you what I have learned in Grandison Place, 
 under the elm tree s shade, by the flower girl in the library, 
 and from a thousand sources of which you have never dreamed." 
 
 He took the hand which rested lightly on his arm, and draw 
 ing it closer to his side led the way to the steps of the piazza. 
 I had dreamed of a moment like this in the golden reveries of 
 romance, and imagined it a foretaste of heaven, but now I trem 
 bled -and hesitated like the fearful fluttering spirit before the 
 opening gates of paradise. I dared not yield to the almost irre 
 sistible temptation. No figures were gliding along the solitary 
 paths, no steps were brushing away the dew-stars that had 
 fallen from the sky. We should be alone in the moonlight soli 
 tude ; but the thoughts of Mrs. Linwood and of Edith would 
 find us out. 
 
 " No, no ! " I cried, shrinking from the gentle force that 
 urged me forward ; " do not ask me now. It would be better 
 to remain where we are. Do you not think so ? " 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it," he said, and his voice had an 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 153 
 
 altered tone, like that of a sweet instrument suddenly untuned ; 
 " but there is only one now, for those who fear to trust me, 
 Gabriella." 
 
 " To trust you, oh you cannot, do not misunderstand me 
 thus ! " 
 
 " Why else do you shrink, as if I were leading you to a path 
 of thorns instead of one margined with flowers ? " 
 
 " I fear the observations of the world, since the bitter lesson 
 of the morning." 
 
 " Your fear ! You attach more value to the passing remarks 
 of strangers, than the feelings of one who was beginning to 
 believe he had found one pure votary of nature and of truth. 
 It is well. I have monopolized your attention too long." 
 
 Calmly and coldly he spoke, and the warm light of his eye 
 went out like lightning, leaving the cloud gloom behind it. I 
 was about to ask him to lead me back to his mother, in a tone 
 as cold and altered as his own, when I saw her approaching us 
 with a lady whom I had observed at the chapel ; for her large, 
 black eyes seemed magnetizing me, whenever I met their gaze. 
 She was tall, beyond the usual height of her sex, finely 
 formed, firm and compact as a marble pillar. A brow of bold 
 expansion, features of the Roman contour, clearly cut and 
 delicately marked ; an expression of recklessness, independence, 
 and self-reliance "were the most striking characteristics of the 
 young lady, whom Mrs. Linwood introduced as Miss Melville, 
 the daughter of an early friend of hers. 
 
 " Miss Margaret Melville," she repeated, looking at her son, 
 who stood, leaning with an air of stately indifference against a 
 pillar of the piazza. I had withdrawn my hand from his arm, 
 and felt as if the breadth of the frozen ocean was between us. 
 
 " Does Mr. Ernest Linwood forget his old friend so easily ? " 
 she asked, in a clear, ringing voice, extending a fair ungloved 
 hand. " Do you not remember Madge Wildfire, or Meg the 
 Dauntless, as the students used to call me ? Or have I become 
 so civilized and polished that you do not recognize me ? " 
 
 " I did not indeed," said he, receiving the offered hand with 
 more grace than eagerness, " but it is not so much the fault of 
 
154 ERNEST LINTVOOD. 
 
 my memory, as the marvellous change in yourself. I must not 
 say improvement, as that would imply that there was a time 
 when you were susceptible of it." 
 
 " You may say just what you please, for I like frankness 
 and straightforwardness as well as I ever did ; better, a 
 great deal better, for I know its value more. And you, Ernest, 
 I cannot call you any thing else, you are another and yet the 
 same. The same stately, statue-like being I used to try in 
 vain to teaze and torment. It seems so long since we have met 
 I expected to have seen you quite bent and hoary with age. 
 Do tell me something of your transatlantic experience." 
 
 While she was speaking in that peculiar tone of voice which 
 reminded one of a distant clarion, Richard Clyde came to me 
 on the other side, and seeing that she wished to engage the 
 conversation of Ernest, which she probably thought I had 
 engrossed too long, I took the offered arm of Richard and 
 returned to the drawing-room. Seeing a table covered with 
 engravings, I directed our steps there, that subjects of conver 
 sation might be suggested independent of ourselves. 
 
 " How exquisite these are ! " I exclaimed, taking up the first 
 within my reach and expatiating on its beauties, without really 
 comprehending one with my preoccupied and distant thoughts. 
 " These Italian landscapes are always charming." 
 
 " I believe that is a picture of the Boston Common," said he, 
 smiling at my mistake ; "but surely no Italian landscape can 
 boast of such magnificent trees and such breadth of verdure. 
 It is a whole casket of emeralds set in the granite heart of a 
 great city. And see in the centre that pure, sparkling dia 
 mond, sending out such rays of coolness and delight, I won 
 der you did not recognize it." 
 
 " I have seen it only in winter, when the trees exhibited 
 their wintry dreariness, and little boys were skating on the dia 
 mond surface of that frozen water. It looked very different 
 then." 
 
 "Mr. Linwood could explain these engravings," said he, 
 drawing forward some which indeed represented Italian ruins, 
 grand and ivy mantled, where the owl might well assert her 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 155 
 
 solitary domain. " He has two great advantages, an eye en 
 lightened by travel, and a taste fastidious by nature." 
 
 " I do not admire fastidiousness," I answered ; " I do not like 
 to have defects pointed out to me, which my own ignorance does 
 not discover. There is more pleasure in imagining beauties 
 than in finding out faults." 
 
 " "Will you think it a presuming question, a too inquisitive 
 one," he said, holding up an engraving between himself and the 
 light, " if I ask your candid opinion of Mr. Linwood ? Is the 
 world right in the character it has given ? Has he all the pecu 
 liarities and fascinations it ascribes to him ?" 
 
 He spoke in a careless manner, or rather tried to do so, but 
 his eye burned with intense emotion. Had he asked me this 
 question a short time previous, conscious blushes would have 
 dyed my cheeks, for a "murderous guilt shows not itself more 
 soon," than the feelings I attempt to conceal ; but my sensibility 
 had been wounded, my pride roused, and my heart chilled. I 
 had discovered within myself a spirit which, like the ocean 
 bark, rises with the rising wave. 
 
 " If Mr. Linwood had faults," I answered, and I could not 
 help smiling at the attempted composure and real perturbation 
 of his manner, "I would not speak of them. Peculiarities 
 he may have, for they are inseparable from genius, fascina 
 tions " here their remembrance was too strong for my as 
 sumed indifference, and my sacred love of truth compelled me 
 to utter, " fascinations he certainly possesses." 
 
 u In what do they consist ? " he asked. " Beyond an extremely 
 gentlemanly exterior, I do not perceive any peculiar claims to 
 admiration." 
 
 Hurt as I had been by Ernest s altered manner, I was dis 
 posed to do justice to his merits, and the more Richard seemed 
 desirous to depreciate him, the more I was willing to exalt him. 
 If he was capable of the meanness of envy, I was resolved to 
 punish him. I did him injustice. He was not envious, but 
 jealous ; and it is impossible for jealousy and justice ever to go 
 hand in hand. 
 
 " In what do they consist ? " I repeated. At that moment I 
 
156 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 saw him through the window, standing just where I had left 
 him, leaning with folded arms against the pillar, with the moon 
 light shining gloriously on his brow. Miss Melville stood near 
 him, talking with great animation, emphasizing her words with 
 quick, decided gesticulation, while he seemed a passive listener. 
 I had seen handsomer gentlemen, perhaps, but never one 
 so perfectly elegant and refined in appearance. The pale 
 transparency of his complexion had the purity and delicacy of 
 alabaster without its whiteness, seen by that clear, silvery 
 light. 
 
 " In what do they consist ? In powers of conversation as 
 rich as they are varied, in versatility of talents, in rare culti 
 vation of mind and polish of manner. Let me see. I must 
 give you a complete inventory of his accomplishments. He 
 reads most charmingly, plays superbly, and sings divinely. 
 Would you know his virtues ? He is a most devoted son, a 
 paragon of brothers, and a miracle of a host." 
 
 I believe there is a dash of coquetry in every woman s na 
 ture. There must have been in mine, or I could not have gone 
 on, watching the red thermometer in Richard s cheek, rising 
 higher and higher, though what I said was truth, unembellished 
 by imagination. It was what they wlio run might read. I 
 did not speak of those more subtle traits which, were invisible 
 to the common eye, those characters which, like invisible writ 
 ing, are brought out by a warm and glowing element. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you speak so openly in his praise," said 
 Richard, with a brightening countenance ; " even if I deserved 
 such a tribute, I should not wish to know that you had paid it 
 to me. I would prize more one silent glance, one conscious 
 blush, than the most labored eulogium the most eloquent lips 
 could utter." 
 
 " But I do praise you very much," I answered ; " ask Mrs. 
 Linwood, and Edith, and Mr. Regulus. Ask Mr. Lin wood 
 himself." 
 
 " Never speak of me to him, Gabriella. Let my feelings be 
 sacred, if they are lonely. You know your power ; use it 
 gently, exert it kindly." 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 157 
 
 The smile of assumed gaiety faded from my lips, as his 
 grave, earnest, sincere accents went down into my soul. Could 
 I trifle even for a moment with an affection so true and con 
 stant ? 
 
 Oh, wayward and unappreciating heart ! Why could I not 
 return this love, which might have made me so happy ? Why 
 was there no spirit-echo to his voice ; no quickened pulsations 
 at the sound of his coming footsteps ? 
 
 " This is no place, Richard, to talk of ourselves, or I would 
 try to convince you that I am incapable of speaking lightly of 
 your feelings, or betraying them to a human being, even to 
 Mrs. Lin wood ; but let us speak of something else now. Do 
 you not feel very happy that you are free, no more a slave 
 to hours or rules ; free to come and go, when and where you 
 please, with the whole earth to roam in, 
 
 " Heart within and God overhead ? " 
 
 " No ! I am sad. After being at anchor so long, to be sud 
 denly set drifting, to be the sport of the winds of destiny, the 
 cable chain of habit and association broken, one feels dizzy 
 and bewildered. I never knew till now how strong the class 
 mate bond of union is, how sacred the brotherhood, how bind 
 ing the tie. We, who have been treading the same path for 
 four long years, must now diverge, east, west, north, and south, 
 the great cardinal points of life. In all human probability we 
 shah 1 never all meet again, till the mysterious problem of our 
 destiny is solved." 
 
 He paused, impressed by the solemnity of this idea, then 
 added, in his natural, animated manner, 
 
 " There is one hope, Gabriella, to which I have looked for 
 ward as the sheet-anchor of my soul ; if that fails me, I do not 
 care what becomes of me. Sometimes it has burned so bright 
 ly, it has been my morning and evening star, my rising, but unset- 
 ting sun. To-night the star is dim. Clouds of doubt and appre 
 hension gather over it. Gabriella, I cannot live in this sus 
 pense, and yet I could not bear the confirmation of my fears. 
 Better to doubt than to despair." 
 
 14 
 
158 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 " Richard, why will you persist in talking of what cannot be 
 explained here ? Shall we not nieet hereafter, and have abun 
 dant opportunities for conversation, free and uninterrupted ? 
 Look around, and see how differently other people are convers 
 ing. How lightly and carelessly their words come and go, 
 mingled with merry laughter ! Edith is at the piano. Let us 
 go where we can listen, we cannot do it here." 
 
 " I am very selfish ! " said he, yielding to my suggestion. 
 " I have promised my classmates to introduce them to you. I 
 see some of them bending reproachful glances this way. I must 
 redeem my character, so as not to incur disgrace in the parting 
 hour." 
 
 Then followed introductions pressing on each other, till I was 
 weary of hearing my own name, Miss Lynn. I never did like 
 to be called Miss. Still it was an unspeakable relief to me, to be 
 released from the necessity of repressing the feelings of others, 
 and guarding my own. It was a relief to hear those unmean 
 ing sayings which are the current coin of society, and to utter 
 without effort the first light thought that came floating on the 
 surface. The rest of the evening I was surrounded by strangers, 
 and the most exacting vanity might have been satisfied with 
 the incense I received. I knew that the protection of Mrs. 
 Lin wood gave a prestige to me that would not otherwise have 
 been mine, but I could not help perceiving that Edith, the 
 heiress, all lovely as she was, was not half as much courted 
 and admired as the daughter of the outcast. I was too young, 
 too much of a novice, not to be pleased with the attention I at 
 tracted ; but when the heart is awakened, vanity has but little 
 power. It is a cold, vapory conceit, that vanishes before the 
 inner warmth and light, which, like the sun in the firmament, 
 " shineth brighter and brighter to the perfect day." 
 
 After Edith retired from the instrument there was a buzz, 
 and a sensation, and Miss Melville, or Meg the Dauntless, as I 
 could not help mentally calling her, was escorted to the piano 
 by Ernest. What a contrast she presented to the soft, retiring, 
 ethereal Edith, whose every motion suggested the idea of mu 
 sic ! Though her arm was linked in that of Ernest, she walked 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 159 
 
 independently of him, dashing through the company with a 
 brave, military air, and taking a seat as if a flourish of trum 
 pets had heralded her approach. At first I was startled by the 
 loud crash of the keys, as she threw her hands upon them with 
 all her force, laughing at the wild dissonance of the sound ; but 
 as she continued, harmony, if not sweetness, rose out of the 
 chaos. She evidently understood the science of music, and en 
 joyed it too. She did not sing, and while she was playing the 
 most brilliant polkas, waltzes, and variations with the most won 
 derful execution, she talked and laughed with those around the 
 instrument, or looked round the apartment, and nodded to this 
 one and that, her great black eyes flashing like chain lightning. 
 Her playing seemed to have a magical effect. No one could 
 keep their feet still. Even the dignified president patted his, 
 marking the measure of her prancing fingers. I could have 
 danced wildly myself, for I never heard any thing so inspiring 
 to the animal spirits as those wizard strains. Every counte 
 nance was lighted with animation, save one, and that was 
 Ernest s. He stood immovable, pale, cold, and self-involved, 
 like a being from another sphere. I remembered how differ 
 ently he looked when he wooed me to the garden s moonlight 
 walks, and how the warm and gentle thoughts that then beamed 
 in his eyes seemed frozen and dead, and I wondered if they were 
 extinguished forever. 
 
 " How stupid ! " exclaimed Miss Melville, suddenly stopping, 
 and turning round on the pivot of the music stool till she com 
 manded a full view of the drawing-room. "I thought you 
 would all be dancing by this time. There is no use in playing 
 to such inanimate mortals. And you," said she, suddenly turn 
 ing to Ernest, " you remind me of the prince, the enchanted 
 prince in the Arabian Nights, only he was half marble, you 
 are a whole statue. You do not like music. I pity you." 
 
 " I have my own peculiar tastes," he answered quietly ; 
 " some nerves are more delicately strung than others." 
 
 " Do you imply that my playing is too loud for delicate 
 nerves ? Why, that is nothing to what I can do. That is my com 
 pany music. When I am at home I give full scope to my powers." 
 
160 ERNESTLINTVOOD. 
 
 " We are perfectly satisfied with the specimen we have heard," 
 said he, smiling ; how could he help it ? and every one laughed, 
 none more heartily than the gay musician herself. I never 
 heard such a laugh before, so merry, so contagious ; such a 
 rich, round, ringing laugh ; dying away one moment, then burst 
 ing out again in such a chorus ! 
 
 All at once she fixed her eyes on me, and starting up, came 
 directly to me, planting her tall, finely formed, firm-set figure in 
 the midst of the group around me. 
 
 " Come, you must play and sing too. I have no doubt your 
 style will suit Mr. Linwood s delicate nerves." 
 
 " I never play," I answered. 
 
 "Nor sing?" 
 
 " Only at home." 
 
 " You have a face of music, I am sure." 
 
 " Thank you. I have a heart to appreciate it ; that is a great 
 gift." 
 
 " But why do n t you sing and play ? How do you expect to 
 pass current in society, without being able to hang on the in 
 strument as I do, or creep over it with mouselike fingers as 
 most young ladies do ? I suppose you are very learned very 
 accomplished ? How many languages do you speak ? " 
 
 " Only two at present," I answered, excessively amused by 
 her eccentricity, and falling into her vein with a facility that 
 quite surprised myself. " I generally find the English tongue 
 sufficient to express my ideas." 
 
 " I suppose one of the two is German. You will be consid 
 ered a mere nobody here, if you do not understand German. 
 It is the fashion ; the paroxysm ; German literature, German 
 taste, and German transcendentalism ; I have tried them all, 
 but they will not do for me. I must have sunshine and open 
 air. I must see where I am going, and understand what I am 
 doing. 1 abhor mysticism, as I do deceit. Are you frank, Miss 
 Gabriella? You have such a pretty name, I shall take the 
 liberty of using it. Lynn is too short ; it sounds like an abbre 
 viation of Linwood." 
 
 " If you mean by frankness, a disposition to tell all I think 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 161 
 
 and feel, I am not frank," I answered, without noticing her last 
 remark, which created a smile in others. 
 
 " You do not like to hear people express all their thoughts, 
 good, bad, or indifferent ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do not. I like to have them winnowed before 
 they are uttered." 
 
 " Then you will not like me, and I am sorry for it. I have 
 taken an amazing fancy to you. Never mind ; I shall take you 
 by storm when we get to Grandison Place. Do you know I 
 am going home with you ? Are you not delighted ? " 
 
 She burst into one of her great, rich laughs, at the sight of 
 my dismayed countenance. I really felt annihilated at the 
 thought. There was something so overpowering, so redundant 
 about her, I expected to be weighed down, overshadowed. 
 She going to Grandison Place ! Alas, what a transformation 
 there would be ! Adieu to the quiet walks, the evening read 
 ing?, the morning flower gatherings ; adieu to sentiment and 
 tranquillity, to poetry and romance. Why had Mrs. Linwood 
 invited so strange a guest ? Perhaps she was self-invited. 
 
 " I tell you what I am going for," she said, bending her face 
 to mine and speaking in a whisper that sounded like a whistle 
 in my ear ; " I am going to animate that man of stone. Why 
 have not you done it, juxtaposited as you are ? You do not 
 make use of the fire-arms with which nature has supplied you. 
 If I had such a pair of eyes, I would slay like David my tens 
 of thousands every day." 
 
 " The difficulty would be in finding victims," I answered. 
 " The inhabitants of the town where I reside do not number 
 more than two or three thousand." 
 
 " Oh ! I would make it populous. I would draw worship 
 pers from the four points of the earth, and yet it would be 
 a greater triumph to subdue one proud, hitherto impregnable 
 heart." 
 
 Her eyes flashed like gunpowder as she uttered this, sotto 
 voce it is true, but still loud enough to be heard half across the 
 room. 
 
 " Goodby," she suddenly exclaimed, " they are beckoning 
 14* 
 
162 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 me ; I must go ; try to like me, precious creature ; I shall be 
 quite miserable if you do not." 
 
 Then passing her arm round me, an arm firm, polished, and 
 white as ivory, she gave me a loud, emphatic kiss, laughed, and 
 left me almost as much confused as if one of the other sex had 
 taken the same liberty. 
 
 " Is she," thought I, " a young man in disguise ? " 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 WHAT am I writing ? 
 
 Sometimes I throw down the pen, saying to myself, " it is all 
 folly, all verbiage. There is a history within worth perus 
 ing, but I cannot bring it forth to light. I turn over page after 
 page with the fingers of thought. I see characters glowing or 
 darkened with passion, lines alternately bright and shadowy, 
 distinct and obscure, and it seems an easy thing to make a 
 transcript of these for the outward world." 
 
 Easy ! it requires the recording angel s pen to register the 
 history of the human heart. " The thoughts that breathe, the 
 thoughts that burn," how can they be expressed ? The mere 
 act of clothing them in words makes them grow cold and 
 dull. The molten gold, the fused iron hardens and chills in the 
 forming mould. 
 
 Easy ! " Oh yes," the critic says, " it is an easy thing to 
 write ; only follow nature, and you cannot err." But nature is 
 as broad as the universe, as high as the heavens, and as deep 
 as the seas. It is but a small portion we can condense even on 
 hundreds of pages of foolscap paper. If that portion be of 
 love, the cold philosopher turns away in disdain and talks of 
 romantic maids and moonstruck boys, as if the subject were fit 
 alone for them. And yet love is the great motive principle of 
 nature, the burning sun of the social system. Blot it out, and 
 every other feeling and passion would sink in the darkness of 
 eternal night. Byron s awful dream would be realized, 
 darkness would indeed be the universe. They who praise a 
 writer for omitting love from the page which purports to be a 
 record of life, would praise God for creating a world, over 
 
 (163) 
 
164 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 whose sunless realms no warmth or light was diffused, (if such 
 a creation were possible,) a world without flowers or music, 
 without hope or joy. 
 
 But as the sun is only an emanation from the first great 
 fountain of light and glory, so love is but an effluence from the 
 eternal source of love divine. 
 
 " Bright effluence of bright essence increate." And woe to 
 her, who, forgetting this heavenly union, bathes her heart in the 
 earthly stream, without seeking the living spring whence it 
 flows ; who worships the fire-ray that falls upon the altar, with 
 out giving glory to him from whom it descended. The stream 
 will become a stagnant pool, exhaling pestilence and death ; 
 the fire-ray will kindle a devouring flame, destroying the altar, 
 with the gift and the heart a burning bush, that will blaze for 
 ever without consuming. 
 
 Whither am I wandering ? 
 
 Imagine me now, in a very different scene to the president s 
 illuminated drawing-room. Instead of the wild buzzing of 
 mingling voices, I hear the mournful sighing of the breeze 
 through the weeping grave trees ; and ever and anon there 
 comes a soft, stealing sound through the long, swaying grass, 
 like the tread of invisible feet. I am alone with my mother s 
 spirit. The manuscript, that is to reveal the mystery of my 
 parentage, is in my hand. The hour is come, when without 
 violating the commands of the dead, I may claim it as my own, 
 and remove the hermetic seal which death has stamped. Where 
 else could I read it ? My own room, once so serenely quiet, 
 was no longer a sanctuary, for Margaret Melville dashed 
 through the house, swinging open the doors as abruptly as a 
 March wind, and her laugh filled every nook and corner of 
 the capacious mansion. How could I unseal the sacred history 
 of my mother s sorrows within the sound of that loud, echoing 
 ha, ha? 
 
 I could not ; so I stole away to a spot, where sacred silence 
 has set up its everlasting throne. The sun had not yet gone 
 down, but the shadows of the willows lengthened on the grass. 
 I sat at the foot of the grave leaning against a marble slab, and 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 165 
 
 unsealed, with cold and trembling Lands, my mother s heart, for 
 so that manuscript seemed to me. 
 
 At first I could not see the lines, for my tears rained down so 
 fast they threatened to obliterate the delicate characters ; but 
 after repeated efforts I acquired composure enough to read the 
 following brief and thrilling history. It was the opening of the 
 sixth seal of my life. The stars of hope fell, as a fig-tree 
 casteth her untimely figs when she is shaken by a mighty wind, 
 and the heaven of my happiness departed as a scroll when it is 
 rolled together, and the mountains and islands of human trust 
 were moved out of their places. 
 
 MY MOTHER S HISTORY. 
 
 " Gabriella, before your eyes shall rest on these pages, mine 
 will be closed in the slumbers of death. Let not your heart be 
 troubled, my only beloved, at the record of wrongs which no 
 longer corrode ; of sorrows which are all past away. * In my 
 Father s house are many mansions, and one of them is prepared 
 for me. It is my Saviour s promise, and I believe it as firmly 
 as if I saw the golden streets of the New Jerusalem, where 
 that heavenly mansion is built. 
 
 " Weep not, then, my child, my orphan darling, over a past 
 which cannot be recalled; let not its shadow rest too darkly 
 upon you, if there is joy in the present, be grateful ; if there 
 is hope in the future, rejoice. 
 
 " You have often asked me to tell you where I lived when I 
 was a little child ; whether my home was a gray cottage like 
 ours, in the woods ; and whether I had a mother whom I loved 
 as dearly as you loved me. I have told you that my first feeble 
 life-wail mingled with her dying groan, and you wondered how 
 one could live without a mother s love. 
 
 " I was born in that rugged fortress, whose embattled walls are 
 washed by the majestic Bay of Chesapeake. My father held 
 a captain s commission in the army, and was stationed for many 
 years at this magnificent, insulated bulwark. My father, at the 
 
166 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 time of my mother s death, was a young and gallant officer, and 
 I was his only child. It is not strange that he should marry 
 again ; for the grief of man seldom survives the allotted period 
 of mourning, and it was natural that he should select a gay and 
 brilliant woman, for the second choice is generally a striking 
 contrast to the first. My mother, I am told, was one of those 
 gentle, dove-like, pensive beings, who nestled in her husband s 
 heart, and knew no world beyond. My step-mother loved the 
 world and its pleasures better than husband, children, and home. 
 She had children of her own, who were more the objects of her 
 pride than her love. Every day, they were dressed for exhibi 
 tion, petted and caressed, and then sent back to the nursery, 
 where they could not interfere with the pleasures of their fash 
 ionable mamma. Could I expect those tender cares which the 
 yearning heart of childhood craves, as its daily sustenance ? 
 She was not harsh or despotic, but careless and indifferent. 
 She did not care for me ; and provided I kept out of her way, 
 she was willing I should amuse myself in the best manner I 
 pleased. My father was kind and caressing, when he had 
 leisure to indulge his parental sensibilities ; but he could not 
 sympathize in my childish joys and sorrows, for I dared not 
 confide them to him. He was a man, and, moreover, there was 
 something in the gilded pomp of his martial dress, that inspired 
 too much awe for childish familiarity. I used to gaze at him, 
 when he appeared on military parade, as if he were one of the 
 demigods of the ancient world. He had an erect and warlike 
 
 O 
 
 bearing, a proud, firm step, and his gold epaulette with its glit 
 tering tassels flashing in the sunbeams, his crimson sash con 
 trasting so splendidly with the military blue, his shining sword 
 and waving plume, all impressed me with a grandeur that 
 was overpowering. It dazzled my eye, but did not warm my 
 young heart. 
 
 " As I grew older, I exhibited a remarkable love of reading, 
 and as no one took the trouble to direct my tastes, I seized 
 every book which came within my reach and devoured it, with 
 the avidity of a hungry and unoccupied mind. My father was 
 a gentleman of pure and elegant taste, and had he dreamed that 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 167 
 
 I was exposed, without guardianship, to dangerous influences, he 
 would have shielded and warned me. But he believed the care 
 of children under twelve years of age devolved on their mother, 
 and he was always engrossed with the duties of a profession 
 which he passionately loved, or the society of his brother officers, 
 usually so fascinating and convivial. 
 
 " I used to take my book, which was generally some wild, 
 impassioned romance, and wandering to the ramparts, seat my 
 self by the shining pyramids of cannon-balls ; and while the 
 blue waves of the Chesapeake rolled in murmuring music by, 
 or, lashed by the ocean wind, heaved in foaming billows, roaring 
 against the walls, I yielded myself to the wizard spell of genius 
 and passion. The officers as they passed would try to break 
 the enchantment by gay and sportive words, but all in vain. 
 I have sat there, drenched by the salt sea-spray, and knew it 
 not. I was called the little bookworm, the prodigy, the dream- 
 girl, a name you have inherited, my darling Gabriella ; and my 
 father seemed proud of the reputation I had established. But 
 while my imagination was preter naturally developed, my heart 
 was slumbering, and my soul unconscious of life s great aim. 
 
 " Thus unguarded by precept, unguided by example, I was 
 sent from home to a boarding-school, where I acquired the usual 
 education and accomplishments obtained at fashionable female 
 seminaries. During my absence from home, my two step-sisters, 
 who were thought too young to accompany me, and my infant 
 step-brother, died in the space of one week, smitten by that 
 destroying angel of childhood, the scarlet fever. 
 
 " I had been at school two years when I made my first visit 
 home. My step-mother was then in the weeds of mourning, 
 and of course excluded herself in a measure from gay society ; 
 but I marvelled that sorrow had not impaired the bloom of her 
 cheek, or quenched the sparkle of her cold, bright eye. Pier 
 heart was not buried in the grave of her children, it belonged 
 to the world, to which she panted to return. 
 
 " But my father mourned. There was a shadow on his man 
 ly brow, which I had never seen before. I was, now, his only 
 child, the representative of his once beloved Rosalie, and the 
 
168 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 pure, fond love of his early years revived again in me. I look 
 back upon those two months, when I basked in the sunshine 
 of parental tenderness for the first, the only time, as a portion 
 of my life most dear and holy. I sighed when I thought of 
 the years when we had been comparatively so far apart, and 
 my heart grew to his with tender adhesiveness and growing 
 love. The affections, which my worldly step-mother had chilled 
 and repressed, and which the death of his other children had 
 blighted, were now all mine, renovated and warmed. 
 
 " Oh, Gabriella ! very precious is a father s love. It is an 
 emblem of the love of God for the dependent beings he has 
 created ; so kind, so protecting, so strong, and yet so tender ! 
 Would to God, my poor, defrauded child, you could have 
 known what this God-resembling love is, but your orphanage 
 has been the most sad, the most dreary, the most unhallowed. 
 Almighty Father of the universe, have mercy on my child ! 
 Protect and bless her when this wasting, broken heart no longer 
 beats ; when the frail shield of a mother s love is taken from 
 her, and she is left alone alone alone. Oh! my God, 
 have pity have pity ! Forsake her not ! " 
 
 The paper was blistered with the tears of the writer. I 
 dropped it on the grave, unable to go on. I cast myself on the 
 grass-covered mould, and pressed it to my bosom, as if there 
 was vitality in the cold clods. 
 
 " Oh, my mother ! " I exclaimed, and strange and dreary 
 sounded my voice in that breathing stillness. " Has God heard 
 thy prayers ? Will he hear the cries of the fatherless ? Will 
 he have pity on my forsaken youth ? " 
 
 I would have given worlds to have realized that this mighty 
 God was near ; that he indeed cared with a father s love for the 
 orphan mourner, committed in faith to his all-embracing arms. 
 But I still worshipped him as far-off, enthroned on high, in the 
 heaven of heavens, which cannot contain the full glory of his 
 presence. I saw him on the burning mountain, in the midst of 
 thunder and lightning and smoke, a God of consuming fire, 
 before whose breatli earthly joys and hopes withered and dried, 
 like blossoms cast into the furnace. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 169 
 
 But did not God once hide his face of love from his own 
 begotten Son ? And shall not the eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani 
 of the forsaken heart sometimes ascend amid the woes and 
 trials and wrongs of life, from the great mountain of human 
 misery, the smoking Sinai, whose clouded summit quakes with 
 the footsteps of Deity ? 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 I AGAIN resumed the manuscript, trembling for the revela 
 tions which it might make. 
 
 " Never again," wrote my mother, " did I behold my noble, 
 gallant father. His death was sudden, as if shot down in the 
 battle field, without one warning weakness or pain. In the 
 green summer of his days he fell, and long did my heart vibrate 
 from the shock. How desolate to me was the home to which I 
 returned ! The household fire was indeed extinguished. The 
 household god laid low. I saw at one glance that in my breast 
 alone his memory was enshrined ; that there alone was sacred 
 incense burning. Mrs. Lynn, (I will speak of her by her name 
 hereafter,) though only one year had passed since his death, 
 was assuming those light, coquettish airs which accord as little- 
 with the robes of widowhood as the hues of the rainbow or the 
 garlands of spring. 
 
 " I saw with exquisite pain and shame, that she looked upon 
 me as a rival of her maturer charms, and gladly yielded to my 
 wish for retirement. She always spoke of me as the child, 
 the little bookworm, impressing upon the minds of all the 
 idea of my extreme juvenility. I was young; but I had 
 arrived to years of womanhood, and my stature equalled hers. 
 
 " I will pass on to the scene which decided my destiny. I do 
 not wish to swell the volume of my life. Let it be brief as it 
 is sad. 
 
 " Very near the fortress is another rocky bulwark, rising out 
 of the waves in stern and rugged majesty, known by the pecu 
 liar name of the Rip-Raps. It is the work of man, who paved 
 the ocean bed with rocks, and conceived the design of a lofty 
 (170) 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 171 
 
 castle, from whose battlements the star-spangled banner should 
 wave, and whose massy turrets should perpetuate the honors 
 of Carolina s most gifted son. The design was grand, but has 
 never been completed. It has, however, finished apartments, 
 which form a kind of summer hotel, where many statesmen often 
 resort, that they may lay down, for a while, the burden of care, 
 and breathe an atmosphere pure from political corruption, and 
 cool from party zeal and strife. 
 
 " At the time of which I speak the chief magistrate of the 
 nation sought refuge there for a short while, from the oppressive 
 responsibilities of his exalted station, and regardless of his wish 
 for retirement, or rather irresistibly impelled to pay honors to 
 one whose brows were wreathed with the soldier s laurel as well 
 as the statesman s crown, every one sought his rocky and 
 wave- washed retreat. 
 
 " Mrs. Lynn joined a party of ladies, who, escorted by officers, 
 went over in barges to be introduced to the gallant veteran. 
 The martial spirit of my father throbbed high in my bosom, and 
 I longed to behold one, whom he would have deli 
 honor. Mrs. Lynn did not urge me, but there were o_t 
 supplied her deficiency, and convinced me I was not considered 
 an intruder. Among the gentlemen who composed our party 
 was a stranger, by the name of St. James, to whom Mrs. Lynn 
 paid the most exclusive attention. She was still in the bloom 
 of womanhood, and though far from being beautiful, was showy 
 and attractive. All the embellishments of dress were called 
 into requisition to enhance the charms of nature, and to produce 
 the illusion of youth. She always sought the admiration of 
 strangers, and Mr. St. James was sufficiently distinguished in 
 appearance to render him worthy of her fascinations. I merely 
 noticed that he had a fine person, a graceful air, and a musical 
 voice ; then casting my eyes on the sea-green waters, over which 
 our light barge was bounding, I did not lift them again till we 
 were near the dark gray rocks of the Rip-Raps, and I beheld 
 on the brink of the stone steps we were to ascend, a tall and 
 stately form, whose foam-white locks were rustling in the breeze 
 of ocean. There he stood, like the statue of liberty, throned 
 
172 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 on a granite cliff, with waves rolling below and sunbeams rest 
 ing on his brow. 
 
 " As we stepped from the barge and ascended the rugged steps, 
 the chieftain bent his warlike figure and drew us to the platform 
 with all the grace and gallantry of youth. As I was the young 
 est of the party, he received me with the most endearing famil 
 iarity. I almost thought he was going to kiss me, so close he 
 brought his bronzed cheek to mine. 
 
 " God bless you, my child ! said he, taking both hands in 
 his and looking earnestly in my face. I knew your father well. 
 He was a gallant officer, a noble, honest man. Peace to his 
 ashes ! The soldier fills an honored grave. 
 
 " This tribute to my father s memory filled my eyes with tears, 
 while my cheek glowed with gratified pride. I was proud that 
 I was a soldier s daughter, proud to hear his praise from the 
 lips of valor and of rank. 
 
 " I had brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers as a girlish 
 offering to the veteran. I had been thinking of something 
 pretty and poetical to say when I presented it, but the words 
 died o% my lips, and I extended it in silence with the trembling 
 hand of diffidence. 
 
 " Now, said he, with a benignant smile, turning the flowers 
 round and round, as if admiring them all, ; I am the envy of 
 every young man present. They would all exchange the lau 
 rels of the soldier for the blossoms gathered by the hand of 
 beauty. 
 
 " Let me have the privilege of holding them for you, sir, 
 while we remain, said Mr. St. James, with a courtly grace 
 consistent with the name he bore, and they were submitted with 
 equal courtesy to his keeping. 
 
 " These are trifles to relate, my Gabriella, but they had an in 
 fluence on my life and yours. They laid the foundation of a 
 dislike and jealousy in the mind of my step-mother, that em 
 bittered all our future intercourse. The child was dis tin- 
 guished, not only by the hero who was the lion of the scene, but 
 by the stranger she was resolved to charm, and her usually bright 
 countenance was clouded with malice and discontent. Forget- 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 173 
 
 ful of politeness, she hurried away those who came in the same 
 barge with herself, anxious to see me immured once more in the 
 walls of the Fort. 
 
 " After our distinguished host had bidden farewell to his elder 
 guests, whom he accompanied to the steps, he turned to me with 
 a look so benign and affectionate I never shall forget it. and 
 stooping, kissed my forehead. 
 
 " * As your father s friend, and your country s father, dear 
 child, permit me he said, then giving my hand to St. James, 
 who was waiting to assist me into the barge, bowed a dignified 
 adieu. 
 
 " You do indeed make us envy you, sir/ cried St. James, as 
 he stood with uncovered head in the centre of the boat, while it 
 glided from the walls, and holding up the bouquet which he had 
 had the boldness to retain. 
 
 " The statesman smiled and shook his snow-crowned head, and 
 there he stood, long after we receded from the rocks, his tall, 
 erect figure defined on the dark blue sky. 
 
 " I never saw that noble form again. The brave old soldier 
 died a soldier of the Cross, and fills a Christian s grave. He- 
 sleeps in death, embosomed in the quiet shades he loved best 
 in life. 
 
 And Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, 
 To deck the turf that wraps his clay. 
 
 " I did not think of paying this tribute to his memory ; but 
 that scene was so indelibly stamped on my mind, I could not 
 help delineating it. It was then and there I first beheld your 
 father. 
 
 " The barge was rowed by eight soldiers, dressed in uniform, 
 and their oars all dipped and flashed with simultaneous motion. 
 Nothing could be more harmoniously beautiful; but the rest 
 less spirit of Mrs. Lynn suggested a change. 
 
 " Raise the sail, she exclaimed, this is too monotonous. I 
 prefer it a thousand times to rowing. 
 
 " I beg, I entreat, madam/ cried I, unable to repress my ap 
 prehensions, do not have it done now. I am very foolish, 
 but I cannot help it, indeed I cannot/ 
 
 15* 
 
174 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " I was not accustomed to the water as she was, having been 
 absent so long ; and even when a child, I had an unconquerable 
 dread of sailing. She knew this, and it prompted her sugges 
 tion. 
 
 " Affectation of fear may be pardoned in a child, Rosalie, 
 said she, with a sarcastic smile, but it is nevertheless very un 
 becoming. 
 
 " Do not indulge one apprehension, exclaimed St. James, 
 stepping over one of the seats and sitting down at my side. I 
 am one of the best sailors in the world. Non timid Ccesarem 
 vehis. Give the sails to the winds, boys. I will make them my 
 vassals. 
 
 " His eyes beamed with conscious power, as the white sheet 
 unrolled and swelled gracefully in the breeze. It was strange, 
 all my fears were gone, and I felt as serene a confidence as if 
 his vaunting words were true. The strong will, the magic 
 smile were acting on me like a spell, and I yielded unresist 
 ingly to their influence. 
 
 " Mrs. Lynn would gladly have revoked her commands, 
 since they had called forth such an expression of interest for 
 me ; but the boat swept on with triumphant speed, and even I 
 participated in the exhilaration of its motion. Just before we 
 reached the shore, Mrs. Lynn bent forward and took the flowers 
 from the hand of St. James before he was aware of her de 
 sign. 
 
 " Is that mignonette which is so oppressively fragrant ? 
 she asked, lifting the bouquet to her nose. She was seated near 
 the side of the barge, and her head was gracefully inclined. 
 Whether from accident or design, I think it was the latter, the 
 flowers dropped into the river. 
 
 " In the flashing of an eye- glance, St. James leaped over the 
 boat side, seized the flowers, held them up in triumph over his 
 head, and swam to the shore. He stood there with dripping 
 garments and smiling lips as we landed, while the paleness of 
 terror still blanched my face, and its agitation palpitated in my 
 heart. 
 
 " I must deny myself the pleasure of escorting you to the 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 175 
 
 threshold, said he, glancing at me, while he shook the brine- 
 drops from his arms. His head had not been submerged. He 
 had held that royally abo\p the waves. But/ added he, with 
 graceful gallantry, I have rescued a trophy which I had 
 silently vowed to guard with my life; a treasure doubly 
 consecrated by the touch of valor and the hand of beauty. 
 
 " < Well, exclaimed Mrs. Lynn, as soon as we were at home, 
 tossing her bonnet disdainfully on the sofa, if I ever was 
 disgusted with boldness and affectation I have been to-day. 
 But one thing let me tell you, Miss Rosalie, if you cannot learn 
 more propriety of manners, if you make such sickening efforts 
 to attract the attention of strangers, I will never allow you to 
 go in public, at least in company with me. 
 
 " I was perfectly thunderstruck. She had never given such 
 an exhibition of temper before. I had always thought her 
 cold and selfish, but she seemed to have a careless good-nature, 
 which did not prepare me for this ebullition of passion. I did 
 not reflect that this was the first time I had clashed with her 
 interests, that inordinate vanity is the parent of envy, hatred, 
 and all uncharitableness. 
 
 " I did not attempt to reply, but hastily turned to leave the 
 room. She had been my father s wife, and the sacredness of 
 his name shielded her from disrespect. 
 
 " Stop, Miss, she cried, * and hear what I have to say. If 
 Mr. St. James calls this evening, you are not to make your ap 
 pearance. He was only making sport of your childishness 
 to-day, and cares no more for you than the sands of the sea 
 shore. He is no company for you, I assure you. He is a gen 
 tleman of the world, and has no taste for the bread and butter 
 misses just let loose from a boarding-school. Do you hear 
 me? 
 
 " I do, madam. 
 
 " Do you mean to obey ? 
 
 " I do, madam. 
 
 "I will not.attempt to describe my feelings that night as I 
 sat alone in my room, and heard the voice of St. James ming 
 ling with my step-mother s, which was modulated to its sweet- 
 
176 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 est, most seductive tone. The desolateness of my future life 
 spread out before me. A home without love ! Oh, what dreari 
 ness ! Oh, what iciness ! Had my father lived, how different 
 it would have been. I thought of the happy vacation, when 
 he opened his warm heart and took me in, and then I wept to 
 think how cold the world seemed since he had left it. 
 
 " It was a midsummer s night, and all the windows were open 
 to admit the sea-born breeze. They were open, but bars of 
 gauze wire were put up at the windows and doors to exclude 
 the mosquitos. A very small balcony opened out of my 
 room, where I usually sat listening to the inspiring strains of the 
 band, that, marching on the ramparts, sent their rich, thrilling 
 notes in rolling echoes over the moonlight waves. 
 
 " It was playing now, that martial band, and the bay was one 
 sheet of burning silver. I had never seen it look so resplen- 
 dently beautiful, and I could not help thinking that beneath that 
 gently rippling glory, there was peace for the sad and perse 
 cuted heart. As I sat there leaning on the railing, gazing into 
 the shining depths of ocean, St. James passed. It was very 
 early in the evening. Why had he left so soon ? He started, 
 paused, turned, and approached the balcony. 
 
 " Why are you so cruel as to refuse to see me, after showing 
 such knightly devotion to your cause? he asked, leaning on 
 the side of the balcony and looking earnestly in my face, on 
 which the tear-drops were still glittering. 
 
 " I have not refused, I answered hastily, l but do not wait 
 to talk with me now. Mrs. Lynn would be much displeased ; 
 she would consider it very improper. I pray you not to think 
 me rude, but indeed I must retire. 
 
 " I rose in an agony of terror, lest my step-mother should hear 
 his voice, and wreak her wrath on me. 
 
 " * Fear not/ he cried, catching my hand and detaining me. 
 * She is engaged with company, who will not hasten away as I 
 have done. I will not stay long, nor utter one syllable that is 
 not in harmony with the holy tranquillity of the, hour. I am a 
 stranger in name, but is there not something that tells you I 
 was born to be your friend ? I know there is, I see it in 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 177 
 
 your ingenuous, confiding eye. Only answer me one question, 
 Was it your own will, or the will of another that governed 
 your actions to-night ? 
 
 " k The will of another, I answered. Let that be a suffi 
 cient reason for urging your departure. If I am forbidden to 
 see you in the parlor, I shall certainly be upbraided for speak 
 ing with you here. 
 
 " It was very imprudent in me to speak so freely of my step 
 mother s conduct. Ko questions of his should have drawn 
 from me such an assertion. But I was so young and inexpe 
 rienced, and I had been goaded almost to madness by her 
 stinging rebukes. It was natural that I should wish to vindi 
 cate myself from the charge of rudeness her misrepresentations 
 would bring against me. 
 
 < ; 1 1 find you in sadness and tears, said he, in a low, gentle 
 tone ; so low it scarcely rose above the murmuring waves. 
 They should not be the companions of beauty and youth. 
 Let me be your friend, let me teach you how to banish 
 them. 
 
 " No, no, I cried, frightened at my own boldness in continu 
 ing the conversation so long. You are not my friend, or you 
 would not expose me to censure. Indeed you are not. 
 
 " I am gone ; but tell me one thing, you are not a pris 
 oner ? 
 
 " no ; heaven forbid. 
 
 " You walk on the ramparts. 
 
 " l Sometimes. 
 
 " Adieu, we shall meet again. 
 
 " He was gone, and sweetly lingered in my ear the echo of his 
 gently persuasive voice. He had vanished like the bark that 
 had just glided along the waters, and like that had left a wake 
 of brightness behind. 
 
 "I could not sleep. Excitement kept me wakeful and restless. 
 I heard the measured tread of the sentinel walking his 
 lonely round, and it did not sound louder than the beating of 
 my own heart. Hark ! a soft, breezy sound steals up just be 
 neath my window. It is the vibration of the guitar, a deep- 
 
178 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 toned, melodious voice accompanies it. It is the voice of St. 
 James. He sings, and the strains fall upon the stilly night, soft 
 as the silver dew. 
 
 " Gabriella, I told you with my dying lips never to unseal this 
 manuscript till you were awakened to woman s destiny, love. 
 If you do not sympathize with my emotions, lay it down, my 
 child, the hour is not yet come. If you have never heard a 
 voice, whose faintest tones sink into the lowest depths of your 
 soul, if you have never met a glance, whose lightning rays 
 penetrate to the innermost recesses of the heart, reseal these 
 pages. The feelings with which you cannot sympathize will 
 seem weakness and folly, and a daughter must not scorn a 
 mother s bosom record. 
 
 " Remember how lonely, how unfriended I was. The only eye 
 that had beamed on me with love was closed in death, the only 
 living person on whom I had any claims was cruel and unkind. 
 Blame me not that I listened to a stranger s accents, that I re 
 ceived his image into my heart, that I enthroned it there, and 
 paid homage to the kingly guest. 
 
 " It is in vain to linger thus. I met him again and again. I 
 learned to measure time and space by one line where he was, 
 and where he was not. I learned to bear harshness, jeering, 
 and wrong, because a door of escape was opened, and the roses 
 of paradise seemed blushing beyond. I suffered him to be my 
 friend lover husband." 
 
 I dropped the manuscript that I might clasp my hands in an 
 ecstasy of gratitude 
 
 " My God, I thank thee ! " I exclaimed, sinking on my 
 knees, and repeating the emphatic words : "friend lover 
 husband" " God of my mother, forgive my dark misgivings." 
 
 Now I could look up. Now I could hold the paper with a 
 firm hand. There was nothing in store that I could not bear to 
 hear, no misfortune I had not courage to meet. Alas ! alas ! 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " YES," continued my mother ; " we were married within 
 heaven dedicated walls by a man of God, and the blessing of 
 the holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity was pronounced upon 
 our union. Remember this, my dearly beloved child, remember 
 that in the bosom of the church, surrounded by all the solemni 
 ties of religion, with the golden ring, the uttered vow, and on 
 bended knee, I was wedded to Henry Gabriel St. James. 
 
 " My step-mother refused to be present. She had sufficient 
 regard to the world s opinion to plead indisposition as an excuse; 
 but it was a false one. She never forgave me for winning the 
 love of the man whom she had herself resolved to charm, and 
 from the hour of our introduction to the day of my marriage, 
 my life was clouded by the gloom of her ill temper. 
 
 " We immediately departed for New York, where St. James 
 resided, and our bridal home was adorned with all the elegancies 
 which classic taste could select, and prodigal love lavish upon its 
 idol. I was happy then, beyond the dream of imagination. St. 
 James was the fondest, the kindest, the tenderest my God ! 
 must I add the falsest of human beings ? I did not love him 
 then I worshipped, I adored him. I have told you that my 
 childish imagination was fed by wild, impassioned romances, 
 and I had made to myself an ideal image, round which, like the 
 maid of France, I hung the garlands of fancy, and knelt before 
 its shrine. 
 
 " Whatever has been my after fate, I have known the felicity 
 of loving in all its length and breadth and strength. And he, 
 too, loved me passionately, devotedly. Strong indeed must 
 have been the love that triumphed over principle, honor, and 
 
 (179) 
 
180 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 truth, that broke the most sacred of human ties, and dared the 
 vengeance of retributive Heaven. 
 
 " St. James was an artist. He was not dependent entirely 
 on his genius for his subsistence, though his fortune was not 
 large enough to enable him to live in splendid indolence. He 
 had been in Europe for the last few years, wandering amid the 
 ruins of Italy, studying the grand old masters, summering in 
 the valleys of Switzerland, beneath the shadow of its mountain 
 heights, and polishing his bold, masterly sketches among the 
 elegant artists of Paris. 
 
 " With what rapture I listened to his glowing descriptions of 
 foreign lands, and what beautiful castles we built where WG 
 were to dwell together in the golden clime of Italy or the- 
 sunny bowers of France ! 
 
 " At length, my Gabriella, you were given to my arms, and 
 the deep, pure fountain of a mother s love welled in my youth 
 ful bosom. But my life was wellnigh a sacrifice to yours. 
 For weeks it hung trembling on a thread slender and weak as 
 the gossamer s web. St. James watched over me, as none but 
 guardian angels could watch, and I had another faithful and 
 devoted nurse, our good and matchless Peggy. To her unsleep 
 ing vigilance, her strong heart and untiring arm, I owe in a 
 great measure the restoration of my health, or rather the 
 preservation of my life; my health was never entirely ren 
 ovated. 
 
 " AVhen you were about five or six months old, St. James 
 came to me with a troubled countenance. He was summoned 
 away, very unexpectedly. He would probably be obliged to go 
 as far as Texas before his return ; he might be absent a month. 
 Business of a perplexing nature, which it was impossible to ex 
 plain then, called him from me, but he would shorten as much 
 as possible the days of absence which would be dreary and 
 joyless to him. I was overwhelmed with grief at the thought 
 of his leaving me ; my nerves were still weak, and I wept in 
 all the abandonment of sorrow. I feared for him the dangers 
 that beset the path of the traveller sickness, death ; but I 
 feared not for his honor or truth. I relied upon his integrity, 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 181 
 
 as I did upon the promises of the Holy Scriptures. I did not 
 urge him to explain the motives of his departure, satisfied that 
 they were just and honorable. 
 
 " Oh ! little did I think, when he clasped me in a parting 
 embrace when he committed us both so tenderly and solemnly 
 to the guardianship of our Heavenly Father, little did I think 
 I should so soon seek to rend him from my heart as a vile, 
 accursed monster ; that I should shrink from the memory of his 
 embraces as from the coils of the serpent, the fangs of the wolf. 
 God in his mercy veils the future, or who could bear the bur 
 den of coming woe ! 
 
 " A few days after his departure, as I was seated in the 
 nursery, watching your innocent witcheries as you lay cradled 
 in the lap of Peggy, I was told a lady wished to see me. It 
 was too early an hour for fashionable calls, and I went into 
 the parlor expecting to meet one of those ministering spirits, 
 who go about on errands of mercy, seeking the aid of the rich 
 for the wants of the poor. 
 
 " A lady was standing with her back to the door, seemingly 
 occupied in gazing at a picture over the mantel-piece, an ex 
 quisite painting of St. James. Her figure was slight and grace 
 ful, and she struck me at once as having a foreign air. She 
 turned round at my entrance, exhibiting a pale and agitated 
 countenance ; a countenance which though not beautiful, was 
 painfully interesting. She had a soft olive complexion, and a 
 full melancholy black eye, surcharged with tears. 
 
 " I motioned her to a seat, for I could not speak. Her agi 
 tation was contagious, and I waited in silent trepidation to learn 
 the mystery of her emotion. 
 
 Forgive me this intrusion, said she, in hesitating accents ; 
 * you look so young, so innocent, so lovely, my heart misgives 
 me. I cannot, I dare not. 
 
 " She spoke in French, a language of which I was mistress, 
 and I recognized at once the land of her birth. She paused, as 
 if unable to proceed, w r hile I sat, pale and cold as marble, won 
 dering what -awful revelation she would, but dared not make. 
 
 16 
 
182 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Had she come to tell me of my husband s death, was my iirst 
 agonized thought, and I faintly articulated, 
 " < My husband ! 
 
 " ; Your husband ! Poor, deluded young creature. Alas ! 
 alas ! I can forgive him for deserting me, but not for deceiving 
 and destroying you. 
 
 " I started to my feet with a galvanic spring. My veins 
 tingled as if fire were running through them, and my hair rose, 
 startling with electric horror. I grasped her arm with a force 
 she might have felt through covering steel, and looking her 
 steadfastly in the face, exclaimed, 
 
 " He is my husband ; mine in the face of God and man. He 
 is my husband, and the father of my child. I will proclaim it 
 in the face of earth and heaven. I will proclaim it till my dying 
 day. How dare you come to me with slanders so vile, false, 
 unprincipled woman ? 
 
 " She recoiled a few steps from me, and held up her depre 
 cating hands. 
 
 " Have pity upon me, for I am very wretched, she cried ; 
 1 were it not for my child I would die in silence and despair, 
 rather than rouse you from your fatal dream, but I cannot see 
 him robbed of his rights. I cannot see another usurping the 
 name and place he was born to fill. Madam, continued she, 
 discarding her supplicating tone, and speaking with dignity and 
 force, I am no false, unprincipled woman, inventing tales which 
 I cannot corroborate. I am a wife, as pure in heart, as upright 
 in purpose as you can be, a mother as tender. Forsaken by 
 him whom in spite of my wrongs I still too fondly love, I have 
 left my native land, crossed the ocean s breadth, come a stran 
 ger to a strange country, that I might appeal to you for redress, 
 and tell you that if you still persist in calling him your own, it 
 will be in defiance of the Jaws of man and the canons of the 
 living God. 
 
 " As she thus went on, her passions became roused, and 
 flashed and darkened in her face with alternations so quick 
 they mocked the sight. She spoke with the rapid tongue and 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 183 
 
 impressive gesticulation of her country, and God s truth was 
 stamped on every word. I felt it, I knew it. She was no 
 base, lying impostor. She was a wronged and suffering wo 
 man ; and he, the idol of my soul, the friend, lover, hus 
 band of my youth, no, no ! he could not be a villain ! She 
 was mad, ha, ha, she was mad ! Bursting into a wild, 
 hysteric laugh, I sunk back on the sofa, repeating, 
 
 " Poor thing, she is mad ! I wonder I did not know it 
 sooner. 
 
 " No, madam, I am not mad, she cried, in calmer tones ; * I 
 sometimes wish I were. I am in the full possession of my 
 reason, as I can abundantly prove. But little more than three\ 
 years since, I was married to Gabriel Henry St. James, in 
 Paris, my native city, and here is the certificate which proves 
 the truth of my assertion. 
 
 " Taking a paper from her pocket-book, she held it towards 
 me, so that I could read the writing, still retaining it in her own 
 hand. I did not blame her, oh, no ! I should have done the 
 same. I saw, what seemed blazing in fire, the names of Henry 
 Gabriel St. James and Therese Josephine La Fontaine united 
 in marriage by the usual formula of the church. 
 
 " I did not attempt to snatch it from her, or to destroy the 
 fatal paper. I gazed upon it till the characters swelled out like 
 black chords, and writhed in snaky convolutions. 
 
 " Do you recognize this ? she asked, taking from her bosom 
 a gold case, and touching a spring. It flew open and revealed 
 the handsome features of St. James, beaming with the same ex 
 pression as when I first beheld him, an expression I remem 
 bered but too well. She turned it in the case, and I saw writ 
 ten on the back in gold letters, For my beloved wife, Therese 
 Josephine. 
 
 " It was enough. The certificate might be a forgery, her 
 tale a lie ; but this all but breathing picture, these indubitable 
 words, were proofs of blasting power. Cold, icy shiverings ran 
 through my frame, a cold, benumbing weight pressed clown 
 my heart, a black abyss opened before me, the earth 
 heaved and gave way beneath me. With a shriek that seemed 
 
184 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 to breathe out my life, I fell forward at the feet of her whom I 
 had so guiltlessly wronged." 
 
 Thus far had I read, with clenching teeth and rigid limbs, 
 and brow on which chill, deadly drops were slowly gathering, 
 when my mother s shriek seemed suddenly to ring in my ears, 
 the knell of a broken heart, a ruined frame, and I sprang up 
 and looked wildly round me. Where was I ? Who was I ? 
 
 Were the heavens turned to brass and the sun to blood, or 
 was yon saffron belt the gold of declining day, yon crimson 
 globe, the sun rolling through a hazy, sultry atmosphere ? What 
 meant that long green mound stretching at my side, that broken 
 shaft, twined with the cypress vine ? I clasped both hands- over 
 my temples, as these questions drifted through my mind, then 
 bending my knees, I sunk lower and lower, till my head rested 
 on the grave. I was conscious of but one wish to stay there 
 and die. The bolt of indelible disgrace quivered in my heart ; 
 why should I wish to live ? 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 I DID not become insensible, but I was dead to surrounding^ 
 objects, dead to the present, dead to the future. The past, the 
 terrible, the inexorable past, was upon me, trampling me, grind 
 ing me with iron heel, into the dust of the grave. I could not 
 move, for its nightmare weight crushed me. I could not see, 
 for its blackness shrouded me ; nor hear, for its shrieks deaf 
 ened me. Had I remained long in that awful condition, I 
 should have become a maniac. 
 
 " Gabriella ! " said a voice, which at any other moment would 
 have wakened a thrill of rapture, " Gabriella, speak, look up. 
 Why do you do this ? Why will you not speak ? Do you not 
 hear me ? " 
 
 I did try to speak, but my tongue seemed frozen. I did try 
 to lift my head, but in vain. 
 
 Ernest Linwood, for it was he, knelt down by me, and put 
 ting his arms round me, raised me from the ground, without 
 any volition of my own. I know not what state I was in. I 
 was perfectly conscious ; but had no more power over the 
 movement of a muscle than if I were dead. My eyes were closed, 
 and my head drooped on his breast, as he raised me, bowed 
 by its own weight. I was in a kind of conscious catalepsy. 
 He was alarmed, terrified. As he afterwar4s told me, he really 
 believed me dead, and clasping me to him with an energy of 
 which he was not aware, adjured me in the most tender and 
 passionate manner to speak and tell him that I lived. 
 
 " Gabriella, my flower-girl, my darling ! " he cried, pressing 
 my cheek with those pure, despairing kisses with which love 
 hallows death. Had I indeed passed the boundaries of life, for 
 
 16* 
 
186 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 my spirit alone was conscious of caresses, whose remembrance 
 thrilled through my being. 
 
 The reaction was instantaneous. The chilled blood grew 
 warm and rushed through every vein with wild rapidity. 
 Then I became physically conscious, and glowing with con 
 fusion I raised myself from my reclining position, and 
 attempted to look up into the face of Ernest. But I could 
 not do it. Contending emotions deprived me of the power of 
 self-command. 
 
 " This is madness, Gabriella ! This is suicide ! " he exclaimed, 
 lifting me from the grave, and still supporting me with his arm. 
 " Why do you come here to nurse a grief so far beyond the 
 limits of reason and religion ? Why do you give your friends 
 such exquisite pain, yourself such unnecessary misery ? " 
 
 " Do not reproach me/ I cried. " You know not w^hat cause 
 I have for anguish and despair." 
 
 " Despair, Gabriella ! You cannot know the meaning of that 
 word. Despair belongs to guilt, and even that is not hopeless. 
 And why do you come to this lone place of graves to weep, as 
 if human sympathy were denied to your sorrows ? Is not my 
 mother kind, is not Edith tender and affectionate ? Am not 
 I worthy to be trusted, as a friend, a protector, a redresser ; 
 and if need be, an avenger of wrongs ? " 
 
 " My own wrongs I might reveal ; but those of the dead are 
 sacred," I answered, stooping down and gathering up the manu 
 script, which was half concealed in the long, damp grass. 
 " But do not think me ungrateful. What I owe to your mother 
 and Edith words can never tell. In every prayer I breathe to 
 heaven I shall call down blessings on their head. And you 
 too, you have been more than kind. I never can forget it." 
 
 " If it be not too presumptuous, I will unite your name with 
 theirs, and pray that God may bless you, now and ever more." 
 
 " This will never do," said he, drawing me forcibly from the 
 mournful place. " You must confide in my mother, Gabriella. 
 A dark secret is a plague spot in the heart. Confide in my 
 mother. It is due to her maternal love and guardianship. 
 And beware of believing that any thing independent of yourself 
 
E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 187 
 
 can alienate her affections. Can you walk ? If it were not 
 for leaving you alone, I would go and return with the carriage." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I am quite well and strong again." 
 
 " Then lean on me, Gabriella. Shrink not from an arm 
 which would gladly protect you from every danger and every 
 wrong. Let us hasten, lest I utter words which I would not 
 for worlds associate with a scene so cold and sad. Not where 
 the shadow of death falls no not here." 
 
 He hurried me through the gate, and then paused. 
 
 " Rest here a moment," said he, " and recover your com 
 posure. We may meet with those who would wonder to see 
 you thus, with your hair wildly flowing, your scarf loose and 
 disordered." 
 
 " Thank you," I exclaimed, my thoughts coming to the sur 
 face, and resting there with shame. I had forgotten that my 
 bonnet was in my hand, that my comb had fallen, leaving my 
 hair loose and dishevelled. Gathering up its length, and twist 
 ing it in thick folds around my head, I confined it with my bon 
 net, and smoothing my thin scarf, I took his arm in silence, and 
 walked on through the purple gloom of twilight that deepened 
 before us. Slight shivers ran through my frame. The damp 
 ness of the grave-yard clung to me, and the night dews were 
 beginning to fall. 
 
 " Are you cold, Gabriella ? " he asked, folding my light man 
 tle more closely round me. " You are not sufficiently protected 
 from the dewy air. You are weary and chill. You do not 
 lean on me. You do not confide in me." 
 
 " In whom should I confide, then ? Without father, brother, 
 or protector, in whom should I confide, if ungrateful and un- 
 trusting I turn from you ? " 
 
 As I said this, I suffered my arm to rest more firmly on his, 
 for my steps were indeed weary, and we were now ascending 
 the hill. My heart was deeply touched by his kindness, and 
 the involuntary ejaculations he uttered, the involuntary caresses 
 he bestowed, when he believed me perfectly unconscious, were 
 treasured sacredly there. We were now by the large elm-tree 
 that shaded the way-side, beneath whose boughs I had so often 
 
188 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 paused to gaze on the valley below. Without speaking, he led 
 me to this resting-place, and we both looked back, as wayfar 
 ers are wont to do when they stop in an ascending path. 
 
 Calmly the shadows rested on the landscape, softly yet 
 darkly they rolled down the slope of the neighboring hills and 
 the distant mountains. In thin curlings, the gray smoke floated 
 upwards and lay slumberously among the fleecy clouds. Here 
 and there a mansion, lifted above the rest, shed from its glow 
 ing windows the reflection of departing day. Bright on the 
 dusky gold of the west the evening-star shone and throbbedj 
 like a pure love-thought in the heart of night ; and, dimly glim 
 mering above the horizon, the giant pen seemed writing the Menb 
 Tekel of my clouded destiny on the palace walls of heaven. 
 
 As we thus stood, lifted above the valley, involved in shadows, 
 silent and alone, I could hear the beating of my heart, louder 
 and louder in the breathing stillness. 
 
 " Gabriella ! " said Ernest, in a low voice, and that master- 
 chord which no hand but his had touched, thrilled at the sound. 
 " If the spot on which we stand were a desert island, and the 
 valley stretching around us the wide waste of ocean, and we 
 the only beings in the solitude of nature, with your hand thus 
 clasped in mine, and my heart thus throbbing near, with a love 
 so strong, so deep, it would be to you in place of the whole 
 world beside, tell me, could you be happy ? " 
 
 " I could," was the low, irresistible answer ; and my soul, like 
 an illuminated temple, flashed with inward light. I covered 
 my eyes to keep in the dazzling rays. I forgot the sad history 
 of wrongs and disgrace which I had just been perusing ; I 
 forgot that such words had breathed into my mother s ear, and 
 that she believed them. I only remembered that Ernest Lin- 
 wood loved me, and that love surrounded me with a luminous 
 atmosphere, in which joy and hope fluttered their heavenly- 
 wings. 
 
 How slight a thing will change the current of thought ! I 
 caught a glimpse of the granite walls of Grandison Place, and 
 darkened by the shades, they seemed to frown upon me with 
 their high turret and lofty colonnade, so ancestral and imposing. 
 
EBNEST LIN WOOD. 189 
 
 Then I remembered Mrs. Linwood and Edith, then I re 
 membered my mother, my father, and all the light went out in 
 my heart. 
 
 " I had forgotten, oh, how much I had forgotten," I cried, 
 endeavoring to release myself from the arm that only tightened 
 its hold. " Your mother never would forgive my presumption 
 if she thought, if she knew." 
 
 " My mother loves you ; but even if she did not, I am free to 
 act, free to choose, as every man should be. I love and revere 
 my mother, but there is a passion stronger than filial love and 
 reverence, which goes on conquering and to conquer. She will 
 not, she cannot oppose me." 
 
 " But Edith, dear Edith, who loves you so devotedly ! She 
 will hate me if I dare to supplant her." 
 
 " A sister never can be supplanted, and least of all such a 
 sister as Edith, Gabriella. If you do not feel that love so ex 
 pands, so enlarges the heart, that it makes room for all the 
 angels in heaven, you could not share my island home." 
 
 " If you knew all, if I could tell you all/ I cried, and 
 again I felt the barbed anguish that prostrated me at the 
 grave, " and you shall know, your generous love demands 
 this confidence. When your mother has read the history of 
 my parentage, I will place it in your hands ; though my mother s 
 character is as exalted and spotless as your own, there is a cloud 
 over my name that will for ever rest upon it. Knowing that, 
 you cannot, you will not wish to unite your noble, brilliant des 
 tiny with mine. This hour will be remembered as a dream, a 
 bright, but fleeting dream." 
 
 " What do I care for the past ? " he exclaimed, detaining me as 
 I endeavored to move on. " Talk not of a clouded name. Will 
 not mine absorb it? What shaft of malice can pierce you, 
 with my arm as a defence, and my bosom as a shield ? Gabri 
 ella, it is you that I love, not the dead and buried past. You 
 are the representative of all present joy and hope. I ask for noth 
 ing but your love, your exclusive, boundless love, a love 
 that will be ready to sacrifice every thing but innocence and 
 integrity for me, that will cling to me in woe as in weal, in 
 
190 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 shame as in honor, in death as in life. Such is the love I give, 
 and such I ask in return. Is it mine ? Tell me not of oppos 
 ing barriers ; only tell me what your heart this moment dictates; 
 forgetful of the past, regardless of the future? Is this love 
 mine ? " 
 
 " It is," I answered, looking np through fast-falling tears. 
 " Why will you Avring this confession from me, when you only 
 know it too well ? " 
 
 " One question more, Gabriella, for your truth-telling lips to 
 answer. Is this love only given in return ? Did it not spring 
 spontaneously forth from the warmth and purity of your own 
 heart, without waiting the avowal of mine ? Gratitude is not 
 love. It is stone, not bread, to a spirit as exacting as mine." 
 
 Again the truth was forced from me by his unconquerable 
 will, a will that opened the secret valves of thought, and rolled 
 away the rock from the fountain of feeling. Even then I felt 
 the despotism as well as the strength of his love. 
 
 I cannot, I dare not, repeat all that he uttered. It would be 
 deemed too extravagant, too high-wrought. And so it was. 
 Let woman tremble rather than exult, when she is the object of 
 a passion so intense. The devotion of her whole being cannot 
 satisfy its inordinate demands. Though the flame of the sacri 
 fice ascend to heaven, it still cries, " Bring gifts to the altar, 
 bring the wine of the banquet, the incense of the temple, 
 the fuel of the hearth-stone. Bring all, and still I crave. 
 Give all, I ask for more." 
 
 Not then was this warning suggested. To be wildly, pas 
 sionately loved, was my heart s secret prayer. Life itself would 
 be a willing sacrifice to this devotion. Suspicion that stood 
 sentinel at the door of Faith, Distrust that threw its shadow 
 over the sunshine of truth, and Jealousy, doubting, yet adoring 
 still, would be welcomed as household guests, if the attendants 
 of this impassioned love. Such was the dream of my girl 
 hood. 
 
 When we entered the lawn, lights began to glimmer in the 
 house. I trembled at the idea of meeting Mrs. Linwood, or 
 the Amazonian Meg. There was a side door through which I 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 191 
 
 might pass unobserved, and by this ingress I sought my cham 
 ber and locked the door. A lamp was burning on the table. 
 Had I lingered abroad so late ? Had the absence of Ernest 
 been observed ? 
 
 I sat down on the side of the bed, threw off my bonnet and 
 scarf, shook my hair over my shoulders, and pushed it back, 
 with both hands from my throbbing temples. I wanted room. 
 Such crowding thoughts, such overflowing emotions, could not 
 be compressed in those four walls. I rose and walked the 
 room back and forth, without fear of being overheard, on the 
 soft carpet of velvet roses. What revelations had been made 
 known to me since I had quitted that room ! How low I had 
 been degraded, how royally exalted ! A child unentitled to 
 her father s name ! a maiden, endowed with a princely heart ! 
 I walked as one in a dream, doubting my own identity. But 
 one master thought governed every other. 
 
 " He loves me ! " I repeated to myself. " Ernest Linwood 
 loves me ! Whatever be the future, that present bliss is mine. 
 I have tasted woman s highest, holiest joy, the joy of loving 
 and being beloved. Sorrow and trial may be mine ; but this 
 remembrance will remain, a blessed light through the darkness 
 of time, a star on eternity s ocean. " 
 
 As I passed and repassed the double mirror, my reflected 
 figure seemed an apparition gliding by my side. I paused and 
 stood before one of them, and I thought of the time when, first 
 awakened to the consciousness of personal influence, I gazed on 
 my own image. Some writer has said, " that every woman is 
 beautiful when she loves." There certainly is a light, coming 
 up from the enkindled heart, bright as the solar ray, yet pure 
 and soft as moonlight, which throws an illusion over the plain 
 est features and makes them for the moment charming. I saw 
 the flower-girl of the library in the mirror, and then I knew 
 that the artist had intended her as the idealization of Love s 
 image. 
 
 And then I remembered the morning when we sat together 
 in the library, and he took the roses from my basket and scat 
 tered the leaves at my feet. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A THUNDERING rap at the door startled my meditations. I 
 knew there was but one pair of knuckles in the house capable 
 of beating such a tattoo, and I recoiled from admitting such a 
 boisterous guest. 
 
 " Gabriella, Gabriella ! " rung a voice through the passage. 
 " Are you asleep ? Are you dead ? Open the door, pray, or 
 I shall kill myself squeezing in through the key-hole." 
 
 With a deep sigh of vexation, I opened the door, and she 
 sprang in with the momentum of a ball hurled by a bat. 
 
 " My dear creature ! " she exclaimed, catching me round tlio 
 waist and turning me to the light, " what have you been doing ? 
 where have you been staying ? Ill ! tired ! it is all a sham. 
 He need not try to impose on me such a story as that. I never 
 saw you look so brilliantly well. Your cheeks and lips are 
 red like the damask rose, and your eyes, I never saw such 
 eyes before. Come here and look in the glass. Ill ! ha, ha ! " 
 
 " I have been ill," I answered, shrinking from her reckless 
 hand, " and I was very tired ; I feel better now." 
 
 " Yes, I should think you did. You rested long enough by 
 the way, Heaven knows ; we saw you climbing the hill at 
 sunset, and the lamps were lighted before you came in. I was 
 going after you, but Mrs. Linwood Avould not let me. Ah ! 
 you have animated the statue, thou modern Pygmaliona. You 
 have turned back into flesh this enchanted man of stone. Tell 
 it in Gath, publish it in Askelon ; but the daughters of fashion 
 will mourn, the tribes of the neglected will envy." 
 
 " I cannot match you in brilliant speeches, Miss Melville." 
 
 " Call me Miss Melville again, if you dare. Call me Madge, 
 
 (192) 
 
ERNESTLINWOOD. 193 
 
 or Meg ; but as sure as you mount the stilts of ceremony, I will 
 whisk you off at the risk of breaking your neck. Hark ! there 
 is the supper bell. Come, just as you are. You never looked 
 so charming. That wild flow of the hair is perfectly bewitch 
 ing. I do n t wonder Mr. Invincible has grounded his weapons, 
 not I. If I were a young man, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " I sometimes fear you are," I cried. At this remark she burst 
 into such a wild fit of laughter, I thought she never would 
 cease. It drowned the ringing of the bell, and still kept gush 
 ing over afresh. 
 
 " Ask Mrs. Linwood to excuse me from supper," said I ; " I 
 do not wish any, indeed I do not." 
 
 " Well, I am not one of the air plants ; I must have something 
 more substantial than sentiment, or I should pine with green 
 and yellow hunger, not melancholy. I never cried but once, 
 that I recollect, and that was when a favorite black cat of mine 
 was killed, maliciously, villanously killed, by an old maid, 
 just because she devoured her favorite Canary. No, with the 
 daughter of Jephthah, I exclaimed, 
 
 * Let my memory still be thy pride, 
 And forget not I smiled as I died. 
 
 Shutting, or rather slamming the door, she bounded down the 
 stairs with the steps of the chamois. 
 
 I had not finished my mother s history, but I had passed the 
 breakers. There could be nothing beyond so fearful and wreck 
 ing. The remainder was brief, and written at times with a 
 weak and failing hand. 
 
 - 
 
 " How long I remained in that deadly swoon," continued the 
 manuscript, " I know not. When I recovered, I was lying on 
 my bed, with Peggy standing on one side and a physician on 
 the other. As soon as I looked up, Peggy burst into tears. 
 " Thank God ! she sobbed, I thought she was dead. 
 " l Hush ! said the doctor ; < let her be kept perfectly quiet. 
 Give her this composing draught, and let no one be admitted to 
 her chamber, not even her child. 
 
 17 
 
194 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " Child ! it all came back to me. Where was she, that dread 
 ful woman? Starting up in bed, I looked wildly round the 
 room for the haunting phantom, she was not a reality, I 
 must have had a terrible dream. 
 
 " Yes ! said the doctor, answering the expression of my 
 countenance, you have had a shocking nightmare. Drink 
 this, and you will awake refreshed. 
 
 "Yielding passively, I drank the colorless fluid he offered me, 
 and sinking back on iny pillow passed into a deep and tranquil 
 sleep. When I awoke, the silence and darkness of night 
 brooded around me. My mind now was clear as crystal, and 
 every image appeared with startling distinctness. I lay still 
 and calm, revolving what course to pursue ; and as I lay and 
 revolved, doubts of the truth of her story grew stronger and 
 stronger. All my husband s love and tenderness rose in re 
 membrance, vindicating his aspersed honor. She had forged 
 the tale, she had stolen the picture, she was an impostor 
 and a wretch. 
 
 "At morning light, I awakened Peggy, and demanded of her 
 what had occurred during my insensible state, and what had be 
 come of the strange woman. Peggy said that the piercing 
 shrieks of the stranger brought her to the parlor, where I lay 
 like a corpse on the carpet, and she kneeling over me, ringing 
 her hands, and uttering unintelligible words. 
 
 " You have killed her, cried Peggy, pushing back the 
 stranger, and taking me in her strong arms. 
 
 ii(> Je le sais, man Dieu, je le sais, exclaimed she, lifting 
 her clasped hands to heaven. Peggy did not understand 
 French, but she repeated the words awkwardly enough, yet I 
 could interpret them. 
 
 " As they found it impossible to recall me to life, a physician 
 was summoned, and as soon as he came the stranger disap 
 peared. 
 
 " * Do n t think of her any more, said Peggy ; do n t, Mrs. 
 St. James, I do n t believe a word of her story, she s 
 crazy, she s a lunatic, you may be sure she is, she looked 
 stark mad. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 195 
 
 " I tried to believe this assertion, but something told me she 
 was no maniac. I tried to believe her an impostor, I as 
 serted she \vas, but if* so, she transcended all the actresses in 
 the world. I could not eat, I could not bear you, my darling 
 Gabriella, to be brought into my presence. Your innocent 
 smiles were daggers to my heart. 
 
 " But she came again, Theresa, the avenger, she came fol 
 lowed by a woman, leading by the hand a beautiful boy. 
 
 " Here was proof that needed no confirmation. Every in 
 fantine feature bore the similitude of St. James. The eyes, the 
 smile, his miniature self was there. I no longer doubted, no 
 longer hesitated. 
 
 <k Leave me, I cried, and despair lent me calmness. I 
 resign all claims to the name, the fortune, and the affections of 
 him who has so cruelly wronged us. Not for worlds would I 
 remain even one day longer in the home he has desecrated by 
 his crimes. Respect my sorrows, and leave me. You may 
 return to-morrow. 
 
 " Oh, juste del! she exclaimed. Je suis tres malheureuse. 
 
 " Snatching her child in her arms, and raising it as high as 
 her strength could lift it, she called upon God to witness that it 
 was only for his sake she had asserted her legal rights ; that, 
 having lost the heart of her husband, all she wished was to die. 
 Then, sinking on her knees before me, she entreated me to 
 forgive her the wretchedness she had caused. 
 
 " /forgive you ? I cried. Alas! it is I should supplicate 
 your forgiveness. I do ask it in the humility of a broken 
 heart. But go go if you would not see me die/ 
 
 " Terrified at my ghastly countenance, Peggy commanded 
 the nurse to take the child from the room. Theresa followed 
 with lingering steps, casting back upon me a glance of pity 
 and remorse. I never saw her again. 
 
 " And now, Peggy, said I, * you are the only friend I have 
 in the wide world. Yet I must leave you. With my child 
 in my arms, I am going forth, like Hagar, into the wilderness 
 of life. I have money enough to save me from immediate 
 want. Heaven will guard the future. 
 
19G ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " And where will you go ? asked Peggy, passing the back 
 of her hand over her eyes. 
 
 " Alas, I know not. I have no one to counsel me, no one to 
 whom I can turn for assistance or go for shelter. Even my 
 Heavenly Father hideth his face from me/ 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. St. James! 
 
 " Call me not by that accursed name. Call me Rosalie. 
 It was a dying mother s gift, and they cannot rob me of that. 
 
 " * Miss Rosalie, I will never quit you. There is nobody in 
 the world I love half as well, and if you will let me stay with 
 you, I will wait on you, and take care of the baby all the days 
 of my life. 
 
 " Then she told me how she came from New England to live 
 with a brother, who had since died of consumption, and how 
 she was going back, because she did not like to live in a great 
 city, when the doctor got her to come to nurse me in sickness, 
 and how she had learned to love me so well she could not bear 
 the thoughts of going away from me. She told me, too, how 
 quiet and happy people could live in that part of the country ; 
 how they could get along upon almost nothing at all, and be 
 just as private as they pleased, and nobody would pester them 
 or make them afraid. 
 
 " She knew exactly how she came to the city, and we could 
 go the same way, only we would wind about a little and not go 
 to the place where she used to live, so that folks need ask no 
 questions or know any thing about us. 
 
 " With a childlike dependence, as implicit as your own, and 
 as instinctive, I threw myself on Peggy s strong heart and 
 great common sense. With equal judgment and energy, she 
 arranged every thing for our departure. \ She had the resolu 
 tion and fortitude of a man, with the tenderness and fidelity of 
 a- woman. I submitted myself entirely to her guidance, saying, 
 * It was well. But when I was alone, I clasped you in agony 
 to my bosom, and prostrating myself before the footstool of 
 Jehovah, I prayed for a bolt to strike us, mother and child 
 together, that we might be spared the bitter cup of humiliation 
 and woe. One moment I dared to think of mingling our life 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 197 
 
 blood together in the grave of the suicide; the next, with 
 streaming eyes, I implored forgiveness for the impious thought. 
 
 " It is needless to dwell minutely on the circumstances of our 
 departure. We left that beautiful mansion, once the abode of 
 Icve and happiness, now a dungeon house of despair; we 
 came to this lone, obscure spot, where I resumed my fathers 
 name, and gave it to you. At first, curiosity sought out the 
 melancholy stranger, but Peggy s incommunicativeness and 
 sound judgment baffled its scrutiny. In a little while, we were 
 suffered to remain in the seclusion we desired. Here you have 
 passed from infancy to childhood, from childhood to adolescence, 
 unconscious that a cloud deeper than poverty and obscurity 
 rests upon your youth. I could not bear that my innocent child 
 should blush for a father s villany. I could not bear that her 
 liolv confidence in human goodness and truth should be shat 
 tered and destroyed. But the day of revelation must come. 
 From the grave, whither I am hastening, my voice shall speak ; 
 for the time may come, when a knowledge of your parentage 
 will be indispensable, and concealment be considered a crime. 
 
 " Should you hereafter win the love of an honorable and no 
 ble heart, (for such are sometimes found,) every honorable and 
 noble feeling will prompt you to candor and truth, with regard 
 to your personal relations. I need not tell you this. 
 
 " And now, my darling child, I leave you one solemn dying 
 charge. Should it ever be your lot to meet that guilty, erring 
 father, whose care you have never known, whose name you 
 have never borne, let no vindictive memories rise against him. 
 
 Tell him, I forgave him, as I hope to be forgiven by my 
 Heavenly Father, for all my sins and transgressions, and my ; 
 idolatrous love of him. Tell him, that now, as life is ebbing 
 slowly away like the sands of the hour-glass, and I can calmly 
 look back upon the past, I bless him for being the means of 
 leading my wandering footsteps to the green fields and still 
 pastures of the great Shepherd of Israel. Had he never pre 
 pared for me the bitter cup of sorrow, I had not perchance 
 tasted the purple juice which my Saviour trod the wine-press 
 of God s wrath to obtain. Had not lover and friend been 
 
 17* 
 
198 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 taken from me, I might not have turned to the Friend of sin 
 ners ; the Divine Love of mankind. Tell him then, oh Gabri- 
 ella ! that I not only forgave, but blessed him with the heart of a 
 woman and the spirit of a Christian. 
 
 " I had a dream, a strange, wild dream last night, which I am 
 constrained to relate. I am not superstitious, but its echo lin 
 gers in my soul. 
 
 " I dreamed that your father was exposed to some mysterious 
 danger, that you alone could avert. That I saw him plunging 
 down into an awful abyss, lower and lower ; and that he called 
 on you, Gabriella, to save him, in a voice that might have rent 
 the heavens ; and then they seemed to open, and you ap 
 peared distant as a star, yet distinct and fair as an angel, slowly 
 descending right over the yawning chasm. You stretched out 
 your arms towards him, and drew him upward as if by an in 
 visible chain. As he rose, the dark abyss was transformed to 
 beds of roses, whose fragrance was so intensely sweet it waked 
 me. It was but a dream, my Gabriella, but it may be that 
 God destined you to fulfil a glorious mission: to lead your 
 erring father back to the God he has forsaken. It may be, that 
 through you, an innocent and injured child, the heart sundered 
 on earth may be reunited in heaven. 
 
 "One more charge, my best beloved. In whatever situation 
 of life you may be placed, remember our boundless obligations 
 to the faithful Peggy, and never, never, be separated from her. 
 Repay to her as far as possible the long, long debt of love and 
 devotion due from us both. She has literally forsaken all to 
 follow me and mine ; and if there is a crown laid up in heaven 
 for the true, self-sacrificing heart, that crown will one day be 
 hers. 
 
 " The pen falls from my hand. Farewell trembles on my 
 lips. Oh! at this moment I feel the triumph of faith, the 
 glory of religion. 
 
 " Other refuge have I none ; 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee ; 
 Leave, oh, leave me not alone, 
 Still support and comfort me. 
 
f 
 
 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 199 
 
 " Not me alone, O compassionate and blessed Saviour ! but 
 the dear, the precious, the only one I leave behind. To thine 
 exceeding love, to the care of a mighty God, the blessed influ 
 ences of the Holy Spirit, I now commit her. * Whom have I 
 in heaven but thee, and there is naught on earth which I de 
 sire beside thee. " 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 EDITH came in, as usual, before she retired for the night, and 
 expressed affectionate concern for my indisposition ; but there 
 was an air of constraint, which I could not help perceiving. 
 My eyes fell before hers, with conscious guilt. For had I not 
 robbed her of that first place in her brother s heart, which she 
 had so long claimed as her inalienable right ? 
 
 I had one duty to perform, and I resolved to do it before I 
 laid my head on the pillow. With the manuscript in my hand, 
 I sought the chamber of Mrs. Linwood. She sat before a 
 small table, her head resting thoughtfully on her hand, with an 
 open Bible before her. She looked up at my entrance, with a 
 countenance of gentle seriousness, and extended her hand affec 
 tionately. 
 
 Walking hastily towards her, I knelt at her feet, and laying 
 the manuscript in her lap, burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Linwood," I cried, " will your love and kindness 
 survive the knowledge of all these pageswvvill reveal ? Will a 
 mother s virtues cancel the record of a father s guilt ? Can 
 you cherish and protect me still ? " 
 
 She bent over me and took me in her arms, while tears trem 
 bled in her eyes. 
 
 " I know all, my dear child," she said ; " there is nothing new 
 to be revealed. Your mother gave me, on her death-bed, a 
 brief history of her life, and it only increased your claims on 
 my maternal care. Do you think it possible, Gabriella, that I 
 could be so unjust and unkind, as to visit the sins of a father 
 on the head of an innocent and unoffending child ? No ; be 
 lieve me, nothing but your own conduct could ever alienate my 
 affections or confidence." 
 (200) 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 201 
 
 " Teach me to deserve it, dear Mrs. Linwood, teach me 
 how to prove my love, my gratitude, and veneration." 
 
 " By confiding in me as a mother, trusting me as a friend, 
 and seeking me as a guide and counsellor in this most dangerous 
 season of youth and temptation, you are very dear to me, Ga- 
 briella. Next to my own son and daughter, I love you, nor do 
 I consider their happiness a more sacred deposit than yours." 
 
 "Oh! Mrs. Linwood," I exclaimed, covering my burning 
 face with my hands, and again bowing it on her lap "Ask me 
 any thing, and nothing shall be held back I cannot I 
 dare not perhaps I ought not " 
 
 " Tell me that my son loves you ? " 
 
 I started and trembled ; but as soon as the words passed her 
 lips I gathered courage to meet whatever she might say. 
 
 " If it be indeed so," I answered, " should not the revelation 
 come from him, rather than me ? " 
 
 " There needs no formal declaration. I have seen it, known 
 it, even before yourselves were conscious of its existence this 
 all engrossing passion. Before my son s return I foresaw it, 
 with the prescience of maternal love. I knew your young, 
 imaginative heart would find its ideal in him, and that his fas 
 tidious taste and sensitive, reserved nature would be charmed 
 by your simplicity, freshness, and genius. I knew it, and yet I 
 could not warn you. For when did youth ever believe the 
 cautions of age, or passion listen to the voice of truth ? " 
 
 " Warn me, madam ? Oh, you mean him, not me. I never 
 had the presumption to think myself his equal ; never sought, 
 never aspired to his love. You believe me, Mrs. Linwood 
 tell me, you believe me in this ? " 
 
 " I do, Gabriella. Your heart opened as involuntarily and 
 as inevitably to receive him, as the flower unfolds itself to the 
 noonday sun. It is your destiny ; but would to God I could 
 oppose it, that I could substitute for you a happier, if less bril 
 liant lot." 
 
 " A happier lot than to be the wife of Ernest ? Oh ! Mrs. 
 Linwood, Heaven offers nothing to the eye of faith more bliss 
 ful, more divine." 
 
202 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " Alas ! my child, such is always the dream of love like 
 yours, and from such dreams there must be a day of awakening. 
 God never intended their realization in this world. You look 
 up to me with wondering and reproachful glance. You have 
 feared me, Gabriella, feared that I would oppose my son s 
 choice, if it rested on one so lowly as you believe yourself. 
 You are mistaken I have no right to dictate to him. He is 
 more than of age, has an independent fortune and an independ 
 ent will. The husband lifts his wife to his own position in so 
 ciety, and his name annihilates hers. The knowledge of youi 
 father s character gives me pain, and the possibility of his ever 
 claiming you as his child is a source of deep inquietude, but 
 it is chiefly for you I tremble, for you I suffer, my beloved 
 Gabriella." 
 
 I looked up in consternation and alarm. What invisible 
 sword hung trembling over the future ? 
 
 " Ernest," she began, then stopping, she raised me from my 
 kneeling attitude, led me to a sofa, and made me seat myself at 
 her side. " Ernest," she continued, holding my hand tenderly 
 in hers, " has many noble and attractive qualities. He is just, 
 generous, and honorable ; he is upright, honest, and true ; the 
 shadow of deceit never passed over his soul, the stain of a 
 mean action never rested on his conduct. But," and her 
 hand involuntarily tightened around mine, " he has qualities 
 fatal to the peace of those who love him, fatal to his own hap 
 piness ; suspicion haunts him like a dark shadow, jealousy, 
 like a serpent, lies coiled in his heart." 
 
 " He has told me all this," I cried, with a sigh of relief, 
 " but I fear not, my confidence shall be so entire, there shall 
 be no room for suspicion, my love so perfect it shall cast out 
 jealousy." 
 
 " So I once thought and reasoned in all the glow of youthful 
 enthusiasm, but experience came with its icy touch, and enthu 
 siasm, hope, joy, and love itself faded and died. The dark pas 
 sions of Ernest are hereditary, they belong to the blood that 
 flows in his veins, - they are part and lot of his existence, 
 they are the phantoms that haunted his father s path, and cast 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 203 
 
 their chill shadows over the brief years of my married life. 
 The remembrance of what I have suffered myself, makes me 
 tremble for her who places her happiness in my son s keeping. 
 A woman cannot be happy unless she is trusted." 
 
 " Not if she is beloved ! " I exclaimed. " It seems to me 
 that love should cover every fault, and jealousy be pardoned 
 without an effort, since it is a proof of the strength and fervor 
 of one s affection. Let me be loved, I ask no more." 
 
 " You love my son, Gabriella ? " 
 
 " Love him ! " I repeated, " oh that you could look into 
 my heart ! " 
 
 Blushing at the fervor of my manner, I turned my crimson 
 face from her gaze. Then I remembered that he knew not yet 
 what might place an insurmountable barrier between us, and I 
 entreated Mrs. Linwood to tell him what I wanted courage to 
 relate. 
 
 " I will, my child, but it \vill make no difference with him. 
 His high, chivalrous sense of honor will make the circum 
 stances of your birth but a new claim on his protection, and 
 his purposes are as immovable as his passions are strong. But 
 let us talk no more to-night. It is late, and you need rest. 
 We will renew the subject when you are more composed I 
 might say both. I could not give you a greater proof of 
 my interest in your happiness, than the allusion* I have 
 made to my past life. Never before have I lifted the cur 
 tain from errors which death has sanctified. Let the confi 
 dence be sacred. Ernest and Edith must never know that 
 a shadow rested on their father s virtues. Nothing but the 
 hope of saving you from the sufferings which once were mine, 
 could have induced me to rend the veil from the temple of my 
 heart." 
 
 " How solemn, how chilling are your words," said I, feeling 
 very faint and sad. " I wish I had not heard them. Do joy 
 and sorrow always thus go hand in hand? In the last few 
 hours I have known the two great extremes of life. I have 
 been plunged into the depths of despair and raised to the sum 
 mit of hope. I am dizzy and weak by the sudden transition. 
 
204 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 I will retire, dear madam, for my head feels strangely bewil 
 dered." 
 
 Mrs. Linwood embraced me with unusual tenderness, kissed 
 me on both cheeks, and accompanied me to the door with a 
 fervent " God bless you ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 As soon as I reached my chamber, I threw myself on my 
 bed, which seemed to roll beneath me with a billowy motion. 
 Never had I felt so strangely, so wildly. Confused images 
 crowded through my brain. I moved on an undulating surface. 
 Now, it was the swelling and sinking of the blue gray waves of 
 ocean, then, the heaving green of the churchyard, billows of 
 death, over which the wind blew damp and chill. I had left 
 the lamp unextinguished, where its light reflected the rosy red 
 of the curtains, and that became a fiery meteor shooting through 
 crimson clouds, and leaving a lurid track behind it. 
 
 I sat up in bed ; frightened at the wild confusion of my brain, 
 I passed my hands over my eyes to remove the illusion, but in 
 vain. The massy wardrobe changed to the rocky walls of the 
 Hip Raps, and above it I saw the tall form of the white-locked 
 chief. The carpet, with its clusters of mimic flowers, on a pale 
 gray ground, was a waste of waters, covered with roses, among 
 which St. James was swimming and trying to grasp them. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " I cried, clasping my burning hands. 
 " Am I asleep, and are these images but the visions of a fever 
 ish imagination ? " 
 
 " You dream, my love," answered the low, deep voice of Er 
 nest ; " but my mother is coming to awaken you with a cold 
 and icy hand. I have scattered roses over you while you slept, 
 but her blighting touch has withered them." 
 
 Thus vision after vision succeeded each other, hurrying along 
 like clouds in a tempestuous sky. I suppose I must have slept 
 at last, but the morning found me in a state of utter exhaustion. 
 
 18 (205) 
 
206 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Nervous excitement, sitting so long on the damp grass, and lin 
 gering out in the dewy evening air, brought on an illness which 
 confined me to my bed many days. Dr. ITarlowe threatened to 
 put me in a strait-jacket and send me to a lunatic asylum, if 
 I did not behave better in future. 
 
 " I must take you home with me," he said ; u our quiet, hum 
 drum mode of life is better for you, after all. Your little rock 
 ing chair stands exactly where you used to sit in it. I do not 
 like to see any one else occupy it. I get in disgrace with my 
 wife every day, now you are not by me to hang up my hat and 
 remind me by a glance to shake the dust from my feet. Such 
 a quick pulse as this will never do, my child." 
 
 For a week I was kept in a darkened room, and perfect quie 
 tude was commanded. The doctor came every day, and some 
 times several times a day, with his smiling, sunny counte 
 nance, and anxious, affectionate heart. Mrs. Linwood and 
 Edith stole gently in and out, with steps soft as falling snow- 
 flakes, and Margaret Melville was not permitted to enter at all. 
 Every morning fresh flowers were laid upon my pillow, which I 
 knew were gathered by the hand of Ernest, and they whispered 
 to me of such s\veet things my languid senses ached to hear 
 them. 
 
 One day, while in this passive, languishing, dreamy condi 
 tion, having fallen into tranquil slumbers, I was left a few 
 moments alone. I was awakened by a stronger touch than that 
 of Edith s fairy hand. 
 
 " Why, how do you do, darling ? Plow do you do ? " cried a 
 hearty, gay voice, that echoed like a bugle in the stillness of the 
 room. " The doctor said you were getting well, and I deter 
 mined I would not be kept out any longer. What in the world 
 do they banish me for ? I am the best nurse in the universe, 
 strong as a lion, and wakeful as an owl. What do they shut 
 you up in this dark room for ? just to give you the blues ! 
 It is all nonsense. I am going to put back these curtains, and 
 let in some light, you will become etiolated. I want to see 
 how you look." 
 
 Dashing at the curtains, she tossed two of them back as high 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 207 
 
 as she could throw them, letting in a flood of sunshine to my 
 weak and dazzled eyes. 
 
 "Don t! don t!" I entreated, getting dreadfully nervous 
 and agitated ; " I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot." 
 
 " Yes you can; you will be better in a moment, it is only 
 coming out of darkness into marvellous light, a sudden change, 
 that is all. You do look white, white, delicate, and sweet as 
 a water-lily. I have a great mind to invite Ernest up to see 
 you, you look so interesting. He has been like a distracted 
 man, a wandering Jew, an unlaid ghost, ever since you have 
 been ill. And poor Richard Clyde comes every night to in 
 quire after you, with such a woebegone countenance. And 
 that great, ugly, magnificent creature of a teacher, he has been 
 too, you certainly are a consequential little lady." 
 
 Thus she rattled on, without dreaming of the martyrdom she 
 was inflicting on my weakened nerves. 
 
 " I have no doubt you mean to be kind," said I, ready to 
 cry from weakness and irritation ; " but if you will only drop 
 the curtains and leave me, I will be so very grateful." 
 
 " There the curtains are down. I am not going to speak 
 another word I am a perfect lamb I will bathe your head 
 with cologne, and put you to sleep nicely." 
 
 Stepping across the room, as she thought, very softly, but 
 making more noise than Edith would in a week, she seized a 
 bottle of cologne, and coming close to the bedside, bent over 
 me, so that her great, black eyes almost touched mine. Had 
 they been a pair of pistols, I could not have recoiled with greater 
 terror. 
 
 " Do n t ! " again I murmured, " I am very weak." 
 
 " Hush ! I am going to put you to sleep." 
 
 Pouring the cologne in her hand, till it dripped all over the 
 counterpane and pillow, she deluged my hair, and patted my 
 forehead as she would a colt s that she wanted to stand still. 
 In mute despair I submitted to her tender mercies, certain I 
 should die, if some one did not come to my relief, when the 
 door softly opened, and Mrs. Linwood entered. 
 
 " Heaven be praised," thought I, I had not strength to say 
 
208 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 it. Tears of weariness and vexation were mingling with the 
 drops with which she had saturated my hair. 
 
 " Margaret," said Mrs. Lin wood, in a tone of serious dis 
 pleasure, " what have you been doing ? I left her in a sweet 
 sleep, and now I find her wan, tearful, and agitated. You will 
 worry her into a relapse." 
 
 " All she needs now is cheerful company, I am sure," she 
 answered demurely; "you all make her so tender and baby- 
 like, she never will have any strength again. I ve been as 
 soft as a cooing dove. Dr. Harlowe would have been delighted 
 with me." 
 
 " You must go, Margaret, indeed you must. Ton may think 
 yourself a dove, but others have a different opinion." 
 
 " Going, going, gone ! " she cried, giving me a vehement kiss 
 and vanishing. 
 
 The consequence of this energetic visit was a relapse ; and 
 Dr. Harlowe was as angry as his nature admitted when he 
 learned the cause. 
 
 " That wild-cat must not remain here," said he, shaking his 
 head. " She will kill my gentle patient. Where did you find 
 her, Mrs. Lin wood? From what menagerie has .she broken 
 loose ? " 
 
 " She is the daughter of an early and very dear friend of 
 mine," replied Mrs. Linwood, smiling ; " a very original and 
 independent young lady, I grant she is." 
 
 " What in the world did you bring her here for ? " asked the 
 doctor bluntly ; " I intend to chain her, while my child is sick." 
 
 " She wished to make a visit in the country, and I thought 
 her wild good-humor would be a counterpoise to the poetry 
 and romance of Grandison Place." 
 
 " You have other more attractive and tractable guests. You 
 will not object to my depriving you for a short time of her. 
 May I invite her home with me ? " 
 
 " Certainly, but she will not accept the invitation. She is 
 not acquainted with Mrs. Harlowe." 
 
 " That makes no difference, she will go with me, I am 
 positive." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 209 
 
 They conversed in a low tone in one of the window recesses, 
 but I heard what they said ; and when Mrs. Linwood afterwards 
 told me that Meg the Dauntless had gone off with the doctor 
 in high glee, I was inexpressibly relieved, for I had conceived 
 an unconquerable terror of her. There was other company in 
 the house, as Edith had prophesied, but in a mansion so large 
 and so admirably arranged, an invalid might be kept perfectly 
 quiet without interfering with the social enjoyment of others. 
 
 I was slowly but surely recovering. At night Edith had 
 her harp placed in the upper piazza, and sang and played some 
 of her sweetest and most soothing strains. Another voice, too, 
 mingled at times with the breeze-like swelling of the thrilling 
 chords, and a hand whose master-touch my spirit recognized, 
 swept the trembling strings. 
 
 How lon- it seemed since I had stood with him tinder the 
 
 O 
 
 shade of the broad elm-tree ! With what fluctuating emotions 
 I looked forward to meeting him again ! 
 
 At length the doctor pronounced me able to go down stairs. 
 
 " I am going to keep the wild-cat till you are a little strong 
 er," he said. " She has made herself acquainted with the whole 
 neighborhood, and keeps us in a state of perpetual mirth and 
 excitement. What do you think she has done ? She has 
 actually made Mr. Regulus escort her on horseback into the 
 country, and says she is resolved to captivate him." 
 
 I could not help laughing at the idea of my tall, awkward 
 master, a knight-errant to this queen of the amazons. 
 
 " How would you like to be supplanted by her ? " he mis 
 chievously asked. 
 
 " As an assistant teacher ? " 
 
 " As an assistant for life. Poor Regulus ! he was quite sick 
 during your absence ; and when I accused him of being in love, 
 the simple-hearted creature confessed the fact and owned the 
 soft impeachment. I really feel very sorry for him. He has 
 a stupendous heart, and a magnificent brain. You ought to 
 have treated him better. He would be to you a tower of 
 strength in the day of trouble. Little girl, you ought to be 
 proud of such a conquest." 
 
 18* 
 
210 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " It filled me with sorrow and shame," I answered, " and had 
 he not himself betrayed the secret, it never would have been 
 known. It seemed too deep a humiliation for one whom I so 
 much respected and revered, to bow a supplicant to me. You 
 do not know how unhappy it made me." 
 
 " You must get hardened to these things, Gabriella. As you 
 seem to be quite a dangerous young lady, destined to do great 
 havoc in the world, it will not do to be too sensitive on the 
 subject. But remember, you must not dispose of your heart 
 without consulting me. And at any rate, wait three years longer 
 for your judgment to mature." 
 
 The conscious color rose to my cheek. He took my hand, 
 and placed his fingers on my throbbing pulse. 
 
 " Too quick, too quick," said he, looking gravely in my face. 
 " This will never do. When I bring the wild-cat back, I mean 
 to carry you off. It will do you good to stay a while with my 
 good, methodical, unromantic wife. I can take you round to 
 visit my patients with me. I have a new buggy, larger than 
 the one in which we had such a famous ride together." 
 
 The associations connected with that ride were so sad, I 
 wished he had not mentioned it ; yet the conversation had done 
 me good. It kept me from dwelling too exclusively on one 
 engrossing subject. 
 
 " Now give me your arm," said the doctor, " and let me have 
 the privilege of escorting you down stairs." 
 
 As we descended, he put his arm round me, for I was weaker 
 than he thought I was, and my knees bent under me. 
 
 " We doctors ought not to have jealous wives, my dear, ought 
 we ? My dear, good woman has not one particle of jealousy 
 in her composition. She never looks after my heart ; but keeps 
 a wonderfully sharp eye on my head and feet. A very sensi 
 ble person, Mrs. Harlowe is." 
 
 There was intentional kindness in this apparent levity. He 
 saw I was agitated, and wished to divert my thoughts. Per 
 haps he read more deeply than I imagined, for those who seem 
 to glance lightly on the surface of feeling only, often penetrate 
 to its depths. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 211 
 
 The drawing-room was divided by folding doors, which were 
 seldom closed, and in the four corners of each division were 
 crimson lounges, of luxurious and graceful form. Company 
 generally gathered in the front part, but the backroom was 
 equally pleasant, as it opened into the flower-garden through a 
 balcony shaded by vines. 
 
 " Come in here, and rest awhile," said the doctor, leading me 
 into the back parlor; "it will be a pleasant surprise to Mrs. 
 Linwood. I did not tell her I was going to bring you down." 
 
 As we entered, I saw Ernest Linwood half reclining on a 
 lounge with a book in his hand, which hung listlessly at his side. 
 As he looked up, his pale face lighted suddenly and brilliantly 
 as burning gas. He rose, threw down his book, came hastily 
 forward, took my hand, and drawing it from the doctor s arm, 
 twined it round his own." 
 
 How well you look ! " he exclaimed. " Dr. Harlowe, we 
 owe you ten thousand thanks." 
 
 " This is a strange way of showing it," said the doctor, look 
 ing round him with a comical expression, " to deprive me of my 
 companion, and leave me as lonely as Simon Stylites on the top 
 of his pillar." 
 
 Mrs. Linwood and Edith, who had seen our entrance, came 
 forward and congratulated me on my convalescence. It was the 
 first time I had ever been ill, and the pleasure of being released 
 from durance was like that of a weary child let loose from 
 school. I was grateful and happy. The assurance I received 
 from the first glance of Ernest, that what his mother had prom 
 ised to reveal had made no change in his feelings ; that the 
 love, which I had almost begun to think an illusion of my own 
 brain, was a real existing passion, filled me with unspeakable 
 joy. The warnings of Mrs. Linwood had no power to weaken 
 my faith and hope. Had she not told me that her love had 
 died ? I felt that mine was immortal. 
 
 The impression made by my mother s sad history was still 
 too fresh and deep, and too much of the languor of indisposition 
 still clung to me to admit of my being gay ; but it was pleasant 
 to hear the cheerful laugh and lively conversation, showing that 
 
212 EKNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 the tide of social life ran clear and high. Several new guests 
 had arrived, whom I had not seen before, to whom I was intro 
 duced ; but as Dr. Harlowe commanded me to be a good girl 
 and remain quietly in a corner, a passing introduction limited 
 the intercourse of the evening. 
 
 Just as the doctor was taking leave, a loud, merry ha, ha ! 
 came leaping up the steps, followed by the amazonian form of 
 Madge Wildfire, leaning on the arm of Mr. Regulus. 
 
 " Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! " exclaimed Er 
 nest. 
 
 " Shade of Esculapius ! " cried the doctor, recoiling from the 
 threshold. 
 
 " Glad to see me ? I know you are. Taken you all by 
 storm. Found this gentleman wandering like a troubled spirit 
 by the way-side, and pressed him into service. I shall make a 
 gallant knight of him yet. My dear soul ! " she cried, spying 
 me out and rushing towards me, " I am so glad to see you here, 
 escaped from the ruthless hands of the doctor. I never saw 
 such a despot in my life, except one ; " here she looked laugh 
 ingly and defiantly at Ernest, " he would out-Nero Nero him 
 self, if he had the opportunity." 
 
 " If I were the autocrat of Russia I would certainly exercise 
 the right of banishment," he answered quietly. 
 
 During this sportive encounter, Mr. Regulus came up to 
 greet me. I had not seen him since our memorable interview 
 in the academy, and his sallow face glowed with embarrassment. 
 I rose to meet him, anxious to show him every mark of respect 
 and esteem. I asked him to take a seat on the sofa by me, 
 and ventured to congratulate him on the exceedingly entertain 
 ing acquaintance he had made. 
 
 " A very extraordinary young lady," he cried, " amazingly 
 merry, and somewhat bold. I had not the most remote idea of 
 coming here, when I left home ; but suddenly I found her arm 
 linked in mine, and was told that I must escort her nolens 
 volens" 
 
 " Indeed ! I thought you came to inquire after my health, 
 and was feeling so grateful ! " 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 213 
 
 " I did not know I should have the pleasure of seeing you, and 
 I did not hope you would welcome me with so much cordiali 
 ty. I have made many inquiries after you ; indeed, I have 
 scarcely thought of any thing else since you were ill. You look 
 pale, Gabriella. Are you sure you are quite well, my child ? " 
 
 The old endearing epithet ! It touched me. 
 
 "I do not feel strong enough to move Mount Atlas, but 
 well enough to enjoy the society of my friends. I never ap 
 preciated it so highly before." 
 
 " You have no idea how I miss you," he said, taking my fan 
 and drawing his thumb over it, as if he were feeling the edge 
 of his ferula. " The season of summer lingers, but the flowers 
 no longer bloom for me. The birds sing, but their notes have 
 lost their melody. My perception of the beautiful has grown 
 dim, but the remembrance of it can never fade. I never knew 
 before what the pleasures of memory truly were." 
 
 " I recollect a copy you once set me, Mr. Regulus, Sweet 
 is the memory of absent friends/ I thought it such a charm 
 ing one ! " 
 
 " Do you remember that ? " he asked, with a delighted coun 
 tenance. 
 
 " Yes ! I rememoer all the copies you ever set me. Teach 
 ers should be very careful what sentiments they write, for they 
 are never forgotten. Don t you recollect how all the pupils 
 once laughed at a mistake in punctuation of mine ? The copy 
 was, Hate not, but pity the wicked, as well as the poor. As 
 the line was not quite filled, you added Gabriella, after making 
 a full period. I forgot the stop and wrote, Hate not, but pity 
 the wicked, as well as the poor Gabriella. The ridicule of the 
 scholars taught me the importance of punctuation. Our mis 
 takes are our best lessons, after all." 
 
 " And do you remember these trifles ? " he repeated. " How 
 strange ! It shows you have the heart of a child still. I love 
 to hear you recall them." 
 
 " I could fill a volume with these reminiscences. I believe I 
 will write one, one of these days, and you shall be the hero." 
 
 A merry altercation at the door attracted our attention. Dr. 
 
214 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Harlowe was endeavoring to persuade Madge to go back with 
 him, but she strenuously refused. 
 
 " I never could stay more than ten days at a time in one 
 place in my life. Besides, I have worn out my welcome, I 
 know I have. Your house is not new. It jars too much when 
 I walk. I saw Mrs. Harlowe looking ruefully at some cracked 
 glass and china, and then at me, as much as to say, It is all 
 your doings, you young romp. " 
 
 " Very likely," cried the doctor, laughing heartily, " but it 
 only makes me more anxious to secure you. You are a safety- 
 valve in the house. All my misdemeanors escape unreproved 
 in the presence of your superior recklessness." 
 
 I never saw any one enjoy a jest more than Dr. Harlowe. 
 He really liked the dashing and untamable Madge. He was 
 fond of young companions ; and though his wife was such a 
 superior woman, and such an incomparable housekeeper, there 
 was nothing very exhilarating about her. 
 
 " I can t go," said Madge ; " I must stay and take care of 
 Gabriella." 
 
 " If you play any of your wild pranks on her again," said the 
 doctor, " it were better for you that you had never been born." 
 
 With this threat he departed ; and it seemed as if a dozen 
 people had been added to the household in the person of the 
 dauntless Meg. I never saw any one with such a flow of ani 
 mal spirits, with so much oxygen in their composition. I should 
 think the vital principle in such a constitution would burn out 
 sooner than in others, like a flame fed by alcohol. She was 
 older than myself, and yet had no more apparent reflection 
 than a child of five years old. It was impossible to make her 
 angry. The gravest rebuke, the most cutting sarcasm, were re 
 ceived with a merry twinkle of the eye or a rich swell of 
 laughter. She was bold, masculine, wild, and free, and I 
 feared her as much as I would the wild-cat, after whom the 
 doctor had christened her, yet there was something about her 
 that I liked. It was probably the interest she professed in me, 
 which must have been genuine. It was impossible for her to 
 affect any thing. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 215 
 
 Who would dream of any one sporting with such a man as 
 Mr. Regulus ? Yet she treated him exactly as if he were a 
 great boy. He had paid us his parting salutations, and was 
 half-way down the steps before she was aware of his intended 
 departure. 
 
 " You are not going so soon, indeed you are not," she ex 
 claimed, running after him, seizing his hat, and setting it jauntily 
 on her own head. Her abundant hair prevented it from falling 
 over her face. " I brought you here to stay all the evening, 
 and stay you must and shall. What do you want to go back to 
 your musty old bachelor s room for, when there is such delight 
 ful company here ? " 
 
 Taking hold of his arm and whirling him briskly round, she 
 led him back into the parlor, laughing and triumphant. 
 
 She looked so saucy, so jaunty, so full of nerve and adven 
 ture, with the large hat pitched on one side of her head, I could 
 not help saying, 
 
 " What a pity she were not a man ! " 
 
 Mr. Regulus did not appear as awkward as might be sup 
 posed. There was a latent spark of fun and frolic in his large 
 brain, to which her wild hand applied the match ; and though I 
 know he felt the disappointment of his affections sorely, deeply, 
 he yielded himself to her assault with tolerable grace and readi 
 ness. 
 
 Supper was always an unceremonious meal, sent round on 
 waiters, from a round table in the back parlor, at which Mrs. 
 Linwood presided. Gentlemen took their cups standing or 
 walking, just as it happened ; and ladies, too, though they were 
 generally seated. Ernest drew a light table to the lounge 
 where I sat ; and sitting by me, said, as I was an invalid, I 
 should be peculiarly favored. 
 
 " Methinks she is not the only favored one," said the sweet 
 voice of Edith, as she floated near. 
 
 " There is room for you, dear Edith," said I, moving closer to 
 the arm of the sofa, and leaving a space for her between us. 
 
 " Room on the sofa, Edith," added he, moving towards me, 
 and making a space for her on his right, " and tenfold room in 
 my heart." 
 
216 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 He took her hand and drew her down to his side. 
 
 " This is as it should be," he said, looking from one to the 
 other with a radiant countenance. " Thus would I ever bind 
 to my heart the two loveliest, dearest, best." 
 
 Edith bent her head, and kissed the hand which held hers. 
 As she looked up I saw that her eyes were glistening. 
 
 " What would mamma say ? " she asked, trying to conceal her 
 emotion. " Surely there can be none dearer and better than 
 she is." 
 
 " Nay, Edith," said he, passing his arm tenderly round her 
 waist ; " you might as well say, if I singled out two bright, es 
 pecial stars from the firmament, that I did not think the moon 
 fair or excellent. The love I bear my mother is so exalted by 
 reverence, it stands apart by itself like the queen of night, 
 serene and holy, moving in a distinct and lofty sphere. There 
 is one glory of the sun, Edith, and another glory of the moon, 
 and one star diifereth from another in glory. Yet they are all 
 glorious in themselves, and all proclaim the goodness and glory 
 of the Creator." 
 
 " I have heard it said," observed Edith, in a low, tremulous 
 tone, " that when love takes possession of the heart, the natural 
 affections have comparatively little strength ; that it is to them as 
 is the ocean to its tributaries. I know nothing of it by experi 
 ence, nor do I wish to, if it has power to diminish the filial and 
 sisterly tenderness which constitutes my chief joy." 
 
 "My dear Edith, it is not so. Every pure and generous af 
 fection expands the heart, and gives it new capacities for loving. 
 Have you not heard of heaven, i the more angels the more 
 room ? So it is with the human heart. It is elastic, and en 
 larges with every lawful claimant to be admitted into its sanc 
 tuary. It is true there is a love which admits of no rivalry ; " 
 here his eye turned involuntarily to me, " which enshrines but 
 one object, which dwells in the inner temple, the angel of 
 angels. But other affections do not become weaker in conse 
 quence of its strength. We may not see the fire-flame burn as 
 brightly when the sun shines upon it, but the flame is burning 
 still." 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 217 
 
 " Gabriella does not speak," said Edith, with an incredulous 
 wave of her golden locks. " Tell me, Gabriella, are his words 
 true ? " 
 
 " I am not a very good metaphysician," I answered, " but I 
 should think the heart very narrow, that could accommodate 
 only those whom Nature placed in it. It seems to me but a 
 refined species of selfishness." 
 
 The color crimsoned on Edith s fair cheek. I had forgotten 
 what she had said to me of her own exclusive affection. I 
 sympathized so entirely in his sentiments, expressed with such 
 beautiful enthusiasm, I forgot every thing else. The moment I 
 had spoken, memory rebuked my transient oblivion. She must 
 believe it an intentional sarcasm. How could I be so careless 
 of the feelings of one so gentle and so kind ? 
 
 "I know /am selfish," she said. " I have told you my weak 
 ness, sin it may be, and I deserve the reproach." 
 
 " You cannot think I meant it as such. You know I could 
 not. I had forgotten what I have heard you previously utter. 
 I was thinking only of the present. Forgive me, Edith, for 
 being so thoughtless and impulsive ; for being so selfish myself." 
 
 " I am wrong," said Edith, ingenuously. " I suppose con 
 science applied the words. Brother, you, who are the cause of 
 the offence, must make my peace." 
 
 " It is already made," answered I, holding out my hand to 
 meet hers ; " if you acquit me of intentional wrong, I ask no 
 more." 
 
 As our hands united before him, he clasped them both in one 
 of his own. 
 
 "A triune band," said he, earnestly, "that never must be 
 broken. Edith, Gabriella, remember this. Love each other 
 now, love each other forever, even as I love ye both." 
 
 I was sensitive and childish from recent indisposition, or I 
 should have had more self-control. I could not prevent the 
 tears from rushing to my eyes and stealing down my cheeks. 
 As we were sitting by ourselves, in a part of the room less 
 brilliantly lighted than the rest, and as we all conversed in a 
 
 19 
 
218 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 low voice, this little scene was not conspicuous, though it might 
 have possibly been observed. 
 
 Those in the front room seemed exceedingly merry. Madge 
 had placed a table before herself and Mr. Regulus, in imitation 
 of Ernest, and had piled his plate with quantities of cake, as 
 high as a pyramid. A gay group surrounded the table, that 
 seemed floating on a tide of laughter; or rather making an 
 eddy, in which their spirits were whirling. 
 
 As soon as supper was over, she told Mr. Regulus to lead 
 her to the piano, as she was literally dying to play. There 
 was no instrument at Dr. Harlowe s but a Jew s-harp, and the 
 tongue of that was broken. As she seated herself at the piano, 
 Mr. Regulus reached forward and took up a violin which was 
 lying upon it. 
 
 " Do you play ? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 " I used to play a good deal when a boy, but that was a long 
 time ago," he answered, drawing the bow across the strings 
 with no unskilful hand. 
 
 " Delightful, charming ! " she exclaimed. " Can you play 
 Come, haste to the wedding ? 
 
 He replied by giving the inspiring air, which she accompa 
 nied in her wild, exciting manner, laughing and shaking her 
 head with irrepressible glee. I was astonished to see my 
 dignified tutor thus lending himself for the amusement of the 
 evening. I should have thought as soon of Jupiter playing a 
 dancing tune, as Mr. Regulus. But he not only played well, 
 he seemed to enjoy it. I was prepared now, to see him on the 
 floor dancing with Madge, though I sincerely hoped he would 
 not permit himself to be exhibited in that manner. Madge 
 was resolved upon this triumph, and called loudly to Edith to 
 come and take her place at the instrument, and play the liveli 
 est waltz in the universe for her and Mr. Regulus. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Melville," said he, laying down his violin 
 and resuming his usual grave and dignified manner, " I am no 
 dancing bear." 
 
 " Come, Mr. Regulus, I have no doubt you dance as charm- 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 219 
 
 ingly as you play. Besides, you would not be so un gallant as 
 to refuse a lady s request." 
 
 " Not a lady-like request," he answered, with a shrewd cast 
 of the eye under his beetling brows. 
 
 This sarcasm was received with acclamation ; but Meg lifted 
 her brow as dauntless as ever and laughed as loudly. 
 
 I began to feel weary of mirth in which I could not sympa 
 thize. Mrs. Linwood came to me, and saying I looked pale 
 and wan, insisted upon my retiring. To this I gladly assented. 
 The little misunderstanding between Edith and myself weighed 
 heavily on my spirits, and I longed to be alone. 
 
 Just as we were crossing the hall of entrance, Richard Clyde 
 came in. He greeted me with so much feeling, such earnest, un 
 affected pleasure, yet a pleasure so chastened by sensibility, 
 I realized, perhaps for the first time, the value of the heart I 
 had rejected. 
 
 " You have been ill, Gabriella," said he, retaining for a mo 
 ment the hand he had taken. " You look pale and languid. 
 You do not know how much your friends have suffered on your 
 account, or how grateful they feel for your convalesence." 
 
 " I did not think I was of so much consequence," I replied. 
 " It is well to be sick now and then, so as to be able to appre 
 ciate the kindness of friends." 
 
 " You must suffer us to go now, Richard," said Mrs. Linwood, 
 moving towards the staircase ; " you will find merry company 
 in the parlor ready to entertain you. As Gabriella is no longer 
 a prisoner, you will have future opportunities of seeing her." 
 
 " I must embrace them soon," said he, sadly. " I expect to 
 leave this place before long, my friends, and my country." 
 
 " You, Richard ? " I exclaimed. Then I remembered the re 
 marks I had heard on commencement day, of his being sent to 
 Europe to complete his education. I regretted to lose the 
 champion of my childhood, the friend of my youth, and my 
 countenance expressed my emotion. 
 
 " I have a great deal to say to yon, Gabriella," said he, in a 
 low tone. " May I see you to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Certainly, that is, I think, I hope so." A glance that 
 
220 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 flashed on me from the doorway arrested my stammering tongue. 
 Ernest was standing there, observing the interview, and the 
 dark passion of which his mother had warned me clouded his 
 brow. Snatching my hand from Richard, I bade him a hasty 
 good-night, and ascended the stairs, with a prophetic heart. 
 
 Yet, while I felt the shadow on his brow stealing darkly over 
 me, I repeated to myself, 
 
 " The keenest pangs the wretched find, 
 
 Are rapture to the dreary void, 
 The leafless desert of the mind, 
 The waste of feelings unemployed/ 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE interview with. Richard Clyde the next day, was a pain 
 fully agitating one. I had no conception till then, how .closely 
 and strongly love and hope had twined their fibres round him ; 
 or how hard would be the task of rending them from him. Why 
 could I not appreciate the value of his frank, noble, and confid 
 ing nature ? It may be because we had been children together, 
 and that familiarity was unfavorable to the growth of love in 
 one of my poetic nature. I must look up. The cloud crowned 
 cliff did not appall my high-reaching eye. 
 
 " I shall not see you again, Gabriella," said he, as he wrung 
 my hand in parting. " I shall not see you again before my de 
 parture, I would not for worlds renew the anguish of this 
 moment. I do not reproach you, you have never deceived 
 me. My own hopes have been building a bridge of flowers over 
 a dark abyss. But, by the Heaven that hears me, Gabriella, 
 the keenest pang I now experience is not for my own loss, it is 
 the dread I feel for you." 
 
 " Not one word more, Richard, if you love me. I have been 
 tender of your feelings, respect mine. There is but one thing 
 on earth I prise more than your friendship. Let me cherish 
 that for the sacred memory of auld lang syne." 
 
 " Farewell, then, Gabriella, best and only beloved ! May the 
 hand wither that ever falls too heavily on that trusting heart, 
 should we never meet again ! " 
 
 He drew me suddenly closely to him, kissed me passionately, 
 and was gone. 
 
 " Had you confided in me fully," said Mrs. Linwood, in 
 speaking to me afterwards of Richard, " I should never have 
 
 (221) 
 
222 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 advised a correspondence which must have strengthened his at 
 tachment. Having the highest opinion of his principles and 
 disposition, and believing you regarded him with modest affec 
 tion, I urged this intercourse as a binding link between you. 
 You must have perceived my wishes on this subject." 
 
 " If I have erred, it was from mistaken delicacy. I thought 
 I had no right to betray an unreturned affection. It was not 
 from a want of confidence in you." 
 
 " If you could have loved Richard, it would have been well 
 for you, my dear Gabriella ; but I know the heart admits of no 
 coercion, and least of all a heart like yours. I no longer warn, 
 for it is in vain ; but I would counsel and instruct. If you do 
 become the wife of my son, you will assume a responsibility 
 as sacred as it is deep. Not alone for your happiness do I 
 tremble, O Gabriella, I fear, I dread, for him." 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Linwood, when I love him so exclusively, so de 
 votedly ; when I feel that I must love him forever " 
 
 " It is the very exclusiveness and strength of your devotion 
 / that I fear. You will love him too well for your own peace, 
 too well for Ms good. Far better is a rational, steadfast attach 
 ment, that neither rises above the worth of the object, nor 
 sinks below it, thanfthe two great extremes, idolatry and indif- 
 , ference. The first is a violation of the commands of God, 
 the last, of the rights of man. Remember, my child, that it is 
 not by the exhibition of idolatrous affection, that a wife secures 
 a husband s happiness. It is by patient continuance in well 
 doing, that she works out the salvation of her wedded peace. 
 Sit down by me, Gabriella ; draw up your work-table ; for one 
 can listen best when their hands are busy. I have a great deal 
 that I wish to say, and I cannot talk as well with your eyes 
 bent so earnestly on me." 
 
 I obeyed her without trepidation. I felt the need of her 
 guiding counsels, and resolved to lay them up in my heart, and 
 make them the rule and guide of my life. 
 
 "When a young girl marries a man whom she has been 
 taught to believe perfection," continued Mrs. Linwood, " and 
 after marriage discovers her golden idol to be an image of wood 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 223 
 
 and clay, she may be permitted to sit down and weep a while 
 over her vanished dreams. But when she knows the imper 
 fections of him she loves ; when she knows they are of a nature 
 to try, as with sevenfold heat, the strength and purity of her 
 affection ; when with this conviction she breathes her wedded 
 vows, she has no right to upbraid him. She has walked with 
 open eyes into the furnace, and she must not shrink from the 
 flames. Ske irrasfc fold over her woman s heart the wings of 
 an angel. She must look up to God, and be silent." 
 
 " When innocent of blame, surely she should defend herself 
 from accusation," cried I. 
 
 " Certainly, in the spirit of gentleness and Christian love. 
 But she must not murmur ; she must not complain. But it is 
 not the accusation that admits of defence, the arrow that flies at 
 noonday, that is most to be feared. It is the cold, inscrutable 
 glance, the chilled and altered manner, the suspicion that walk- 
 eth in darkness, it is these that try the strength of woman s 
 love, and gnaw with slow but certain tooth the cable-chain that 
 holds the anchor of her fidelity. These are the evil spirits 
 which prayer and fasting alone can cast out. They may fly 
 before the uplifted eye and bended knee, but never before the 
 flash of anger or the word of recrimination." 
 
 " What a solemn view you give me of married life ! " I ex 
 claimed, while the work dropped from my hands. " What 
 fearful responsibilities you place before me, I tremble, I 
 dare not meet them." 
 
 " It is not too late, the irrevocable vow is not yet breathed, 
 the path is not yet entered. If the mere description of 
 duties makes you turn pale with dread, what will the reality 
 be ? 1 do not seek to terrify, but to convince. I received you 
 as a precious charge from a dying mother, and I vowed over 
 her grave to love, protect, and cherish you, as my own daugh 
 ter. I saw the peculiar dangers to which you were liable from 
 your ardent genius and exquisite sensibility, and I suffered you 
 to pass through a discipline which my wealth made unneces 
 sary, and which you have nobly borne. I did not wish my son 
 to love you, not because you were the child of obscurity, but 
 
224 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 because I had constituted myself the guardian of your happi 
 ness, and I feared it would be endangered by a union with him. 
 How dear is your happiness to me, how holy I deem the 
 charge I have assumed, you may know by my telling you 
 this. Never mother idolized a son as I do Ernest. He is pre 
 cious as my heart s best blood, he is the one idol that comes 
 between me and my God. My love is more intense for the 
 anxiety I feel on his account. If I could have prevented his 
 loving; but how could I, in the constant presence of an 
 object so formed to inspire all the romance of love ? I knew 
 the serpent slept in the bottom of the fountain, and when the 
 waters were stirred it would wake and uncoil. Gabriella ! " she 
 added, turning towards me, taking both hands in hers, and look 
 ing me in the face with her clear, eloquent, dark gray eyes, 
 " you may be the angel commissioned by Providence to work 
 out the earthly salvation of my son, to walk with him through 
 the fiery furnace, to guard him in the lion s den, which his own, pas 
 sions may create. If .to the love that hopeth all, the faith that 
 believeth all, you add the charity that endureth all, miracles 
 may follow an influence so exalted, and, I say it with reverence, 
 so divine." 
 
 It is impossible to give but a faint idea of the power of Mrs. 
 Linwood s language and manner. There was no vehemence, 
 no gesticulation. Her eye did not flash or sparkle ; it burned 
 with a steady, penetrating light. Her voice did not rise in 
 tone, but it gave utterance to her words in a full, deep stream. 
 of thought, inexhaustible and clear. I have heard it said that 
 she talked " like a book," and so she did, like the book of 
 heavenly wisdom. Her sentiments were " apples of gold in 
 pictures of silver," and worthy to be enshrined in a diamond 
 casket. 
 
 As I listened, I caught a portion of her sublime spirit, and 
 felt equal to the duties which I had a short time before re 
 coiled from contemplating. 
 
 " I am very young and inexperienced," I answered, " and too 
 apt to be governed by the impulses of the present moment. I 
 dare not promise what I may be too weak to perform ; but, 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 225 
 
 dearest madam, all that a feeble girl, strengthened and inspired 
 by love, and leaning humbly on an Almighty arm, can do, I 
 pledge myself to do. In looking forward to the future, I have 
 thought almost exclusively of being ever near the one beloved 
 object, living in the sunshine of his smile, and drinking in the 
 music of his voice. Life seemed an elysian dream, from which 
 care and sorrow must be for ever banished. You have roused 
 me to nobler views, and given existence a nobler aim. I blush 
 for my selfishness. I will henceforth think less of being happy 
 myself, than of making others happy ; less of happiness than 
 duty ; and every sacrifice that principle requires shall be made 
 light, as well as holy, by love." 
 
 " Only cherish such feelings, my child," said Mrs. Linwood, 
 warmly embracing me, " and you will be the daughter of my 
 choice, as well as my adoption. My blessing, and the blessing 
 of approving God, will be yours. The woman, who limits her 
 ambition to the triumphs of beauty and the influence of personal 
 fascination, receives the retribution of her folly and her sin in 
 the coldness and alienation of her husband, and the indifference, 
 if not the contempt of the world. She, whose highest aim is 
 intellectual power, will make her home like the eyrie of the 
 eagle, lofty, but bleak. While she, whose affections alone are 
 the foundation of her happiness, will find that the nest of the 
 dove, though pleasant and downy in the sunshine, will furnish 
 no shelter from the fierce storms and tempestuous winds of 
 life." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Linwood ! Is domestic happiness a houseless 
 wanderer ? Has it no home on earth ? " 
 
 "Yes, my love, in the heart of the woman whose highest 
 aim is the glory of God, whose next, the excellence and hap 
 piness of her husband ; who considers her talents, her affec 
 tions, and her beauty as gifts from the Almighty hand, for whose 
 use she must one day render an account ; whose heart is a 
 censer where holy incense is constantly ascending, perfuming 
 and sanctifying the atmosphere of home. Such is the woman 
 who pleaseth the Lord. Such, I trust, will be my beloved 
 Gabriella." 
 
226 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 By conversations like these, almost daily renewed, did this 
 admirable, high-minded, and God-fearing woman endeavor to 
 prepare me for the exalted position to which love had raised 
 me. This was a happy period of my life. The absence of 
 Richard Clyde, though a source of regret, was a great blessing, 
 as it removed the most prominent object of jealousy from 
 Ernest s path. An occasional cloud, a sudden coldness, and an 
 unaccountable reserve, sometimes reminded me of the danger 
 ous passion whose shadow too often follows the footsteps of 
 love. But in the retirement of rural life, surrounded by the 
 sweet, pure influences of nature, the best elements of character 
 were called into exercise. 
 
 The friends whom Mrs. Linwood gathered around her were 
 not the idle devotees of fashion, the parasites of wealth - y 
 but intelligent, literary people, whose society was a source of 
 improvement as well as pleasure. Sometimes, circumstances of 
 commanding character forced her to receive as guests those 
 whom her judgment would never have selected, as in the case 
 of Madge Wildfire ; but in general it was a distinction to be 
 invited to Grandison Place, whose elegant hospitalities were the 
 boast of the town to which it belonged. 
 
 The only draAvback to my happiness was the pensiveness that 
 hung like a soft cloud over the spirits of Edith. She was still 
 kind and affectionate to me ; but the sweet unreserve of former 
 intercourse was gone. I had come between her and her 
 brother s heart. I was the shadow on her dial of flowers, that 
 made their bloom wither. I never walked with Ernest alone 
 without fearing to give her pain. I never sat with him on the 
 seat beneath the elm, in the starry eventide, or at moonlight s 
 hour, without feeling that she followed us in secret with a sad 
 dened glance. 
 
 At first, whenever he came to me to walk with him, I would 
 say, 
 
 Wait till I go for Edith." 
 
 " Very well," he would answer, " if there is nothing in your 
 heart that pleads for a nearer communion than that which we 
 
ERNEST UN WOOD. 227 
 
 enjoy in the presence of others, a dearer interchange of thought 
 and feeling, let Edith, let the whole world come." 
 
 " It is for her sake, not mine, I speak, I cannot bear the 
 soft reproach of her loving eye ! " 
 
 " A sister s affection must not be too exacting," was the reply. 
 " All that the fondest brother can bestow, I give to Edith ; but 
 there are gifts she may not share, an inner temple she can 
 not enter, reserved alone for you. Come, the flowers are 
 wasting their fragrance, the stars their lustre ! " 
 
 How could I plead for Edith, after being silenced by such 
 arguments ? And how could I tell her that I had interceded 
 for her in vain ? I never imagined before that a sister s love 
 could be jealous ; but the same hereditary passion which was 
 transmitted to his bosom through a father s blood, reigned in 
 hers, though in a gentler form. 
 
 Every one who has studied human nature must have observed 
 predominant family traits, as marked as the attributes of differ 
 ent trees and blossoms, traits which, descending from parent 
 to children, individualize them from the great family of man 
 kind. In some, pride towers and spreads like the great grove 
 tree of India, the branches taking root and forming trunks 
 which put forth a wealth of foliage, rank and unhealthy. In 
 others, obstinacy plants itself like a rock, which the winds and 
 waves of opinion cannot move. In a few, jealousy coils itself 
 with lengthening fold, which, like the serpent that wrapped it 
 self round Laocoon and his sons, makes parents and children its 
 unhappy victims. 
 
 And so it is with the virtues, which, thanks be to God, who 
 setteth the solitary in families, are also hereditary. How often 
 do we hear it said, " She is lovely, charitable, and pious, 
 so was her mother before her ; " " He is an upright and honor 
 able man, he came from a noble stock." " That youth has a 
 sacred love of truth, it is his best inheritance, his father s 
 word was equivalent to his bond." 
 
 If this be true, it shows the duty of parents in an awfully 
 commanding manner. Let them rend out the eye that gives 
 dark and distorted views of God and man. Let them cut off 
 
228 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 the hand that offends and the foot that errs, rather than entail 
 on others evils, which all eternity cannot remedy. Better trans 
 mit to posterity the blinded eye, the maimed and halting foot, 
 that knows the narrow path to eternal life, than the dark pas 
 sions that desolate earth, and unfit the soul for the joys of 
 heaven. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 I HAVE now arrived at a period in my life, at which the nov 
 elist would pause, believing the history of woman ceases to 
 interest as soon as an accepted lover and consenting friends ap 
 pear ready to usher the heroine into the temple of Hymen. But 
 there is a life within life, which is never revealed till it is inter 
 twined with another s. In the depth of the heart there is a lower 
 deep, which is never sounded save by the hand that wears the 
 wedding-ring. There is a talisman in its golden circle, more 
 powerful than those worn by the genii of the East. 
 
 I love to linger among the beautiful shades of Grandison 
 Place, to wander over its velvet lawn, its gravel walks, its, wind 
 ing avenues, to gaze on the lovely valley its height commanded, 
 whether in the intense lights and strong shadows of downward 
 day, or the paler splendor and deeper shadows of moonlit night. 
 I love those girdling mountains, grand winding stairs of heaven, 
 on which my spirit has so often climbed, then stepping to the 
 clouds, looked through their " golden vistas " into the mysteries 
 of the upper world. 
 
 O thou charming home of my youth! what associations 
 cluster round thee ! Thy noble trees rustle their green leaves 
 in the breezes of memory. Thy moonlight walks are trodden 
 by invisible footsteps. Would I had never left thee, Paradise 
 of my heart ! Would I had never tasted the fruit of the tree 
 of knowledge, which, though golden to the eye, turns to ashes 
 on the lips ! 
 
 When Ernest urged me to appoint a period for our marriage, 
 I was startled alarmed. I thought not of hastening to my 
 
 20 (229) 
 
230 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 destiny quite so soon. I was too young. I must wait at least 
 two years before assuming the responsibilities of a wife. 
 
 " Two years ! two centuries ! " he exclaimed. " Why 
 should we wait ? I have wealth, which woos you to enjoy it. 
 I have arrived at the fulness of manhood, and you are in the 
 rosetime of your life. Why should we wait ? For circum 
 stances to divide, for time to chill, or death to destroy ? 
 No, no ; when you gave me your heart, you gave me yourself; 
 and I claim you as my own, without formal scruples or unneces 
 sary delay." 
 
 Mrs. Linwood exerted all her eloquence with her son to in 
 duce him to defer the union at least one year, till I had seen 
 something of the world, till I was better acquainted with my 
 own heart. 
 
 " Yes ! wait till she loses the freshness and simplicity that 
 won me, the sweetness and ingenuousness that enchained 
 me ! " he cried impetuously. " Wait till she has been flattered 
 and spoiled by a vain and deceiving world ; till she learns to 
 prize the admiration of many better than the true love of one ; 
 till she becomes that tinsel thing my soul abhors, a false and 
 worldly woman. No ! give her to me now," he added, clasping 
 me to his heart with irresistible tenderness and passion. " Give 
 her to me now, in the bloom of her innocence, the flower of her 
 youth, and I will enshrine her in my heart as in a crystal vase, 
 which they must break to harm her." 
 
 The strong love and the strong will united were not to be op 
 posed. Mrs. Linwood was forced to yield ; and when once her 
 consent was given, mine was supposed to be* granted. She 
 wished the wedding to be consummated in the city, in a style 
 consistent with his splendid fortune, and then our rank in so 
 ciety ; and therefore proposed the first month in winter, when 
 they usually took possession of their habitation in town. 
 
 He objected to this with all the earnestness of which he was 
 master. It was sacrilege, he said, to call in a gazing world, to 
 make a mockery of the holiest feelings of the heart, and to 
 crush under an icy mountain of ceremony the spontaneous 
 flowers of nature and of love. He detested fashionable crowds 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 231 
 
 on any occasion, and most of all on this. Let it be at Grandi- 
 son Place, the cradle of his love, in the glorious time of the 
 harvest-moon, that mellow, golden season, when the earth 
 wraps herself as the 
 
 " Sacred bride of heaven, 
 Worthy the passion of a God." 
 
 So entirely did I harmonize with him in his preference for 
 Grandison Place, that I was willing the time should be antici 
 pated, for the sake of the retirement and tranquillity secured. 
 
 Madge Wildfire had returned to the city, declaring that 
 lovers were the most selfish and insipid people in the world, 
 that she was tired of flirting with Ursa Major, as she called 
 Mr. Regulus, tired of teazing Dr. Harlowe, tired of the 
 country and of herself. 
 
 The night before she left, she came to me in quite a subdued 
 mood. 
 
 " I am really sorry you are going to be married," she cried. 
 " If I were you, I would not put on chains before I had tasted 
 the sweets of liberty. Only think, you have not come out yet, 
 as the protegee of the rich, the aristocratic Mrs. Lin wood. 
 What a sensation you would make in Boston next winter if you 
 had sense enough to preserve your freedom. Ernest Linwood 
 knows well enough what he is about, when he hastens the 
 wedding so vehemently. He knows, if you once go into the 
 world, you will be surrounded by admirers who may eclipse 
 and supplant him. But I tell thee one thing, my dear creature, 
 you will have no chance to shine as a belle, as the wife of 
 Ernest. If he does not prove a second Bluebeard, my name is 
 not Meg the Dauntless." 
 
 "I detest a married belle," I answered with warmth. " The 
 woman who aims at such a distinction is false, heartless, and 
 unprincipled. I would bless the watching love that shielded 
 me from a name so odious." 
 
 " It is a mighty fine thing to be loved, I suppose," said Meg 
 with a resounding laugh, "but I know nothing about it and 
 never shall. Mamma and Mrs. Linwood are great friends, you 
 
232 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 know, or have been ; and mamma thought it would be won 
 drous fine for young Miss Hopeful to captivate Mr. Splendidus. 
 But he did not take. I did not suit his delicate nerves. Well, 
 I wish you joy, my precious soul. He loves you, there is no 
 doubt of that. He never sees, never looks at any one else. If 
 you speak, he is all ear ; if you move, all eye. I wonder how 
 it will be a year hence, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Her laugh grated on my nerves, but I concealed the irrita 
 tion it caused, for it was useless to be angry with Meg. She 
 must have had a heart, for she was a woman, but the avenue 
 to ffwas impervious. It was still an untravelled wilderness, and 
 bold must be the explorer who dared to penetrate its luxuriant 
 depths. 
 
 Circumstances connected with the property bequeathed by 
 his uncle, made it indispensable that Ernest should be in New 
 York the coming winter ; and he made arrangements to pass 
 our first bridal season in the great empire city. He wrote to a 
 friend resident there, to engage a house and have it furnished 
 for our reception. 
 
 " For never," said he, " will I carry bride of mine, to make 
 her home in a fashionable hotel. I would as soon plunge her 
 in the roaring vortex on Norway s coast." 
 
 " And must we be separated from your mother and Edith ? " 
 I asked, trembling at the thought of being removed from Mrs. 
 Lin wood s maternal counsels and cares ; " will they not share 
 our bridal home ? " 
 
 " I would have the early days of our married life sacred 
 even from their participation," he answered, with that eloquence 
 of the eye which no woman s heart could resist. "I would 
 have my wife learn to rely on me alone for happiness ; to find 
 in my boundless devotion, my unutterable love, an equivalent 
 for all she is called upon to resign. If she cannot consent to 
 this, no spark from heaven has kindled the flame of the altar ; 
 the sacrifice is cold, and unworthy of acceptance." 
 
 " For myself, I ask nothing, wish for nothing but your com 
 panionship," I answered, with the fervor of truth and youth ; 
 " but I was thinking of them, whom I shall rob of a son and 
 brother so inexpressibly dear." 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 233 
 
 " We shall meet next summer in these lovely shades. We 
 shall all be happy together once more. In the mean time, all the 
 elegancies and luxuries that love can imagine and wealth sup 
 ply shall be yours, 
 
 "Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint 
 The home to which, if love fulfils its prayers, 
 This hand would lead thee, listen," 
 
 And taking me by the hand, he led me out into the beautiful 
 avenue in which we had so often wandered, and continued, in the 
 words of that charming play which he had read aloud in the 
 early days of our acquaintance, with a thrilling expression 
 which none but himself could give 
 
 " We 11 have no friends 
 That are not lovers ; no ambition, save 
 To excel them all in love ; we 11 read no books 
 That are not tales of love ; that we may smile 
 To think how poorly eloquence of words 
 Translates the poetry of hearts like ours ! 
 And when night comes, amidst the breathless heavens, 
 We 11 guess what star shall be our home when love 
 Becomes immortal ; while the perfumed light 
 Steals through the mists of alabaster lamps, 
 And every air be heavy with the sighs 
 Of orange groves, and music from sweet lutes, 
 And murmurs of low fountains, that gush forth 
 F the midst of roses ! " 
 
 " Dost thou like the picture ? " 
 
 How could I help answering, in the words of the impassioned 
 Pauline, 
 
 " Was ever young imaginative girl wooed in strains of sweeter 
 romance ? " 
 
 Was there ever a fairer prospect of felicity, if love, pure, 
 intense love, constitutes the happiness of wedded life ? 
 
 I will not swell these pages by describing the village wonder 
 and gossip, when it was known that the orphan girl of the old 
 gray cottage was exalted to so splendid a destiny ; nor the con- 
 20* 
 
234 E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 
 
 gratulations of friends ; the delight and exultation of Dr. Har- 
 lowe, who said he had discovered it all by my pulse long before ; 
 nor the deeply interesting and characteristic scene with Mr. 
 Regulus ; nor the parting interview with Mrs. Linwood and 
 Edith. 
 
 Yes, I will give a brief sketch of the last hour spent with 
 Edith, the night before the wedding. We were to be married 
 in the morning, and immediately commence our bridal journey. 
 
 Edith had never alluded to her own feelings respecting her 
 brother s marriage, since the evening of the only misunderstand 
 ing we ever had in our sisterly intercourse ; and it was a sub 
 ject I could not introduce. The delicate, gauzy reserve in 
 which she enfolded herself was as impenetrable to me as an 
 ancient warrior s armor. 
 
 Now, when the whole household was wrapped in silence, and 
 the lamps extinguished, and I sat in my night robe in the recess 
 of the window, she came and sat down beside me. We could 
 see each other s faces by the silver starlight. It glittered on 
 the tear drops in the eyes of both. I put my arms around her, 
 and, laying my head on her bosom, poured out all the love, 
 gratitude, and affection with which my full heart was burdened. 
 
 " Forgive me, my beloved Gabriella," she cried, " my ap 
 parent coldness and estrangement. On my knees I have asked 
 forgiveness of my heavenly Father. With my arms round 
 your neck, and your heart next mine, I ask forgiveness of you. 
 Try not to think less of me for the indulgence of a too selfish 
 and exacting spirit, but remember me as the poor little cripple, 
 who for years found her brother s arm her strength and her 
 stay, and learned to look up to him as the representative of 
 Providence, as the protecting angel of her life. Only make 
 him happy, my own dear sister, and I will yield him, not to your 
 stronger, but your equal love. His only fault is loving you too 
 well, in depreciating too much his own transcendent powers. 
 You cannot help being happy with him, with a being so noble 
 and refined. If he ever wounds you by suspicion and jealousy, 
 bear all, and forgive all, for the salte of his exceeding love, 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 235 
 
 for my sake, Gabriella, and for the sake of the dear Redeemer 
 who died for love of you." 
 
 Dear, lovely, angelic Edith ! noble, inestimable Mrs. Lin- 
 W ood I dearly beloved home of my orphan years, grave of 
 my mother, farewell ! 
 
 Farewell ! the bride of Ernest must not, cannot weep. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE early portion of my married life was more like a dream 
 of heaven than a reality of earth. All, and more than I had 
 ever imagined of wedded happiness, I realized. The intimate 
 and constant companionship of such a being as Ernest, so intel 
 lectual, so refined, so highly gifted, so loving and impassioned, 
 was a privilege beyond the common destiny of women. A 
 hundred times I said to myself in the exultant consciousness of 
 
 joy 
 
 " How little his mother knows him ! The jealousy of the 
 lover has yielded to the perfect confidence of the husband. 
 Our hearts arc now too closely entwined for the shadow of a 
 cloud to pass between them. He says himself, that it would be 
 impossible ever to doubt a love so pure and so entire as mine." 
 
 Our home was as retired as it was possible to be in the heart 
 of a great metropolis. It was near one of those beautiful 
 parks which in summer give such an aspect of life and purity 
 to surrounding objects, with their grassy lawns, graceful shade 
 trees, and fountains of silvery brightness playing in the sun 
 shine, and diffusing such a cool, delicious atmosphere, in the 
 midst of heat, dust, and confusion. In winter, even, these 
 parks give inexpressible relief to the eye, and freedom to the 
 mind, that shrinks from the compression of high brick walls, 
 and longs for a more expanded view of the heavens than can be 
 obtained through turreted roofs, that seem to meet as they 
 tower. 
 
 It made but little difference to me now, for my heaven was 
 within. The external world, of which I believed myself 
 (236) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 237 
 
 wholly independent, seemed but a shell enclosing the rich 
 ness and fragrance of our love. The luxuries and elegan 
 cies of my own home were prized chiefly as proofs of Ernest s 
 watchful and generous love. 
 
 The friend to whom he had written to prepare a residence, 
 was fortunate in securing one which he believed exactly suited 
 to his fastidious and classic taste. A gentleman of fortune had 
 just completed and furnished an elegant establishment, when un 
 expected circumstances compelled him to leave his country to 
 be absent several years. 
 
 I do not think Ernest would have fitted up our bridal home 
 in so showy and magnificent a style ; but his love for the beautU 
 ful and graceful was gratified, and he was pleased with my 
 enthusiastic admiration and delight. 
 
 I sometimes imagined myself in an enchanted palace, when 
 wandering through the splendid suite of apartments adorned 
 with such oriental luxury. The gentleman whose taste had 
 presided over the building of the mansion, had travelled all 
 over Europe, and passed several years in the East. He had 
 brought home with him the richest and rarest models of Eastern 
 architecture, and fashioned his^own mansion after them. Er 
 nest had not purchased it, for the owner was not willing to sell ; 
 he was anxious, however, to secure occupants who would appre 
 ciate its elegance, and guard it from injury. 
 
 Ah ! little did I think when eating my bread and milk from 
 the china bowl bordered by flowers, when a silver spoon 
 seemed something grand and massy in the midst of general 
 poverty, that I should ever be the mistress of such a magnifi 
 cent mansion. I had thought Grandison Place luxuriously 
 elegant ; but what was it compared to this ? How shall I begin 
 to describe it ? or shall I describe it at all ? I always like 
 myself to know how to localize a friend, to know their sur 
 roundings and realities, and all that fills up the picture of their 
 life. A friend ! Have I made friends of my readers ? I trust 
 there are some who have followed the history of Gabriella 
 Lynn with sufficient interest, to wish to learn something of her 
 experience of the married life. 
 
238 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 Come, then, with me, and I will devote this chapter to a 
 palace, which might indeed fulfil the prayers of the most 
 princely love. 
 
 This beautiful apartment, adorned with paintings and statues 
 of the most exquisite workmanship, is a reception room, from 
 which you enter the parlor and find yourself winding through 
 fluted pillars of ingrained marble, from the centre of which 
 curtains of blue and silver, sweeping back and wreathing the 
 columns, form an arch beneath which queens might be proud to 
 walk. The walls are glittering with silver and blue, and all 
 the decorations of the apartment exhibit the same beautiful 
 union. The ceiling above is painted in fresco, where cherubs, 
 lovely as the dream of love, spread their wings of silvery tinted 
 azure and draw their fairy bows. 
 
 Passing through this glittering colonnade into a kind of airy 
 room, you pause* on the threshold, imagining yourself in a 
 fairy grotto. We will suppose it moonlight ; for it was by moon 
 light I first beheld this enchanting scene. We arrived at night, 
 and Ernest conducted me himself through a home which ap 
 peared to me more like a dream of the imagination than a cre 
 ation of man. I saw that he was surprised ; that he was unpre 
 pared for such elaborate splendor. He had told his friend to 
 spare no expense ; but he was not aware that any one had 
 introduced such Asiatic magnificence into our cities. I believe 
 I will describe my own first impressions, instead of anticipating 
 yours. 
 
 The mellowness of autumn still lingered in the atmosphere, 
 for the season of the harvest-moon is the most beautiful in 
 the world. The glorious orb illumined the fairy grotto with a 
 radiance as intense as the noonday sun s. It clothed the pol 
 ished whiteness of the marble statues with a drapery of silver, 
 sparkled on the fountain s tossing wreaths, converted the spray 
 that rose from the bosom of the marble basin below into a deli 
 cate web of silver lace- work, and its beams, reflected from walls 
 of looking-glass, multiplied, to apparent infinity, fountains, 
 statues, trees, and flowers, till my dazzled eyes could scarcely 
 distinguish the shadow from the substance. The air was per- 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 239 
 
 fumed with the delicious odor of tropic blossoms, and filled with 
 the sweet murmurs of the gushing fountain. 
 
 " Oh ! how beautiful ! how enchanting ! " I exclaimed, in an 
 ecstasy of admiration. " This must be ideal. Reality never 
 presented any thing so brilliant, so exquisite as this. Oh, 
 Ernest, surely this is a place to dream of, not a home to live 
 in?" 
 
 " It does, indeed," he answered, " transcend my expectations ; 
 but if it pleases your eye, Gabriella, it cannot go beyond my 
 wishes." 
 
 " Oh ye?, it delights my eye, but my heart asked nothing but 
 you. I fear you will never know how well I love you, in the 
 midst of such regal splendor. If you ever doubt me, Ernest, 
 take me to that island home you once described, and you will 
 there learn that on you, and you alone, I rely for happiness." 
 
 lie believed me. I knew he did ; for he drew me to his bosom, 
 and amid a thousand endearing protestations, told me he did 
 not believe it possible ever to doubt a love, which irradiated 
 me at that moment, as the moon did the Fairy Grotto. 
 
 lie led me around the marble basin that received the wa 
 ters of the fountain, and which was margined by sea-shells, 
 from which luxuriant flowers were gushing, and explained 
 the beautiful figures standing so white, so "coldly sweet, so 
 deadly fair," in the stilly and solemn moonlight. I knew the 
 history of each statue as he named them, but I questioned him, 
 that I might have the delight of hearing his charming and poetic 
 descriptions. 
 
 " Is this a daughter of Danaus ? " I asked, stopping before a 
 young and exquisitely lovely female, holding up to the fountain 
 an urn, through whose perforated bottom the waters seemed 
 eternally dripping. 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Is it Hypermestra, the only one of all the fifty who had a 
 woman s heart, punished by her father for rescuing her husband 
 from the awful doom which her obedient sisters so cruelly in 
 flicted on theirs." 
 
 " I believe it is one of the savage forty-nine, who were con- 
 
240 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 derailed by the judges of the infernal regions to fill bottomless 
 vessels with water, through the unending days of eternity. She 
 does not look much like a bride of blood, does she, with that 
 face of softly flowing contour, and eye of patient anguish ? I 
 suppose filial obedience was considered a more divine virtue 
 than love, or the artist would not thus have beautified and ideal 
 ized one of the most revolting characters in mythology. I do 
 not like to dwell on this image. It represents woman in too 
 detestable a light. May we not be pardoned for want of implicit 
 faith in her angelic nature, when such examples are recorded of 
 her perfidy and heartlessness ? " 
 
 " But she is a fabulous being, Ernest." 
 
 " Fables have their origin in truth, my Gabriella. Cannot 
 you judge, by the shadow, of the form that casts it ? The my 
 thology of Greece and Rome shows what estimate was placed on 
 human character at the time it was written. The attributes of 
 men and women were ascribed to gods and goddesses, and by 
 their virtues and crimes we may judge of the moral tone of 
 ancient society. Had there been no perfidious wives, the daugh 
 ters of Danaus had never been born of the poet s brain, and 
 embodied by the sculptor s hand. Had woman always been as 
 true as she is fair, Venus had never risen from the foam of im 
 agination, or floated down the tide of time in her dove-drawn 
 car, giving to mankind an image of beauty and frailty that is 
 difficult for him to separate, so closely are they intertwined." 
 
 " Yes," said I, reproachfully, " and had woman never been 
 forsaken and betrayed, we should never have heard of the fair, 
 deserted Ariadne, or the beautiful and avenging Medea. Had 
 man never been false to his vows, we should never have been 
 told of the jealous anger of Juno, or the poisoned garment pre 
 pared by the hapless Dejarnira. Ah ! this is lovely ! " 
 
 " Do you not recognize a similitude to the flower-girl of the 
 library ? This is Flora herself, whose marble hands are drip 
 ping with flowers, and whose lips, white and voiceless as they 
 are, are wearing the sweetness and freshness of eternal youth. 
 Do you not trace a resemblance to yourself in those pure and 
 graceful features, which, even in marble, breathe the eloquence 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 241 
 
 of love ? How charmingly the moonbeams play upon her 
 brow ! how lovingly they linger on her neck of snow ! " 
 
 He paused, while the murmurs of the fountain seemed to 
 swell to supply the music of his voice. Then he passed on to 
 a lovely Bachanter with ivy and vine wreaths on her clustering 
 locks, to a Hebe catching crystal drops instead of nectar in her 
 lifted cup ; and then we turned and looked at all these classic 
 figures reflected in the mural mirrors and at the myriad foun 
 tains tossing their glittering wreaths, and at the myriad basins 
 receiving the cooling showers. 
 
 " I only regret," said Ernest, " that I had not designed all 
 this expressly for your enjoyment ; that the taste of another 
 furnished the banquet at which your senses are now revelling." 
 
 " But I owe it all to you. You might as well sigh to be the 
 sculptor of the statues, the Creator of the flowers. Believe 
 me, I am sufficiently grateful. My heart could not bear a 
 greater burden of gratitude." 
 
 " Gratitude ! " he repeated, " Gabriella, as you value my 
 love, never speak to me of gratitude. It is the last feeling I 
 wish to inspire. It may be felt for a benefactor, a superior, 
 but not a lover and a husband." 
 
 " But when all these characters are combined in one, what 
 language can we use to express the full, abounding heart? 
 Methinks mine cannot contain, even now, the emotions that 
 swell it almost to suffocation. I am not worthy of so much 
 happiness. It is greater than I can bear." 
 
 I leaned my head on his shoulder, and tears and smiles ming 
 ling together relieved the oppression of my grateful, blissful 
 heart. I really felt too happy. The intensity of my joy was 
 painful, from its excess. 
 
 "This is yours," said he, as we afterwards stood in an 
 apartment whose vaulted ceiling, formed of ground crystal and 
 lighted above by gas, resembled the softest lustre of moonlight. 
 The hangings of the beds and windows were of the richest 
 azure-colored satin, fringed with silver, which seemed the livery 
 of the mansion. 
 
 "And this is yours," he added, lifting a damask curtain, 
 21 
 
242 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 which fell over a charming little recess that opened into a 
 beautiful flower bed. " This is a kiosk, where you can sit in 
 the moonlight and make garlands of poetry, which Regulus 
 cannot wither." 
 
 " How came you so familiar with the mysteries of this en 
 chanted palace ? Is it not novel to you, as well as to me ? " 
 
 " Do you not recollect that I left you at the hotel for a short 
 time, after our arrival ? I accompanied my friend hither, and 
 received from him the clue to these magic apartments. This is 
 a bathing-room," said he, opening one, where a marble bath 
 and ewer, and every luxurious appliance reminded one of East 
 ern luxury. Even the air had a soft languor in it, as if per 
 fumed breaths had mingled there. 
 
 " I should like to see the former mistress of this palace," said 
 I, gazing round with a bewildered smile ; " she was probably 
 some magnificent Eastern sultana who reclined under that royal 
 canopy, and received sherbet from the hands of kneeling slaves. 
 She little dreamed of the rustic successor who would tread her 
 marble halls, and revel in the luxuries prepared for her." 
 
 " She was a very elegant and intellectual woman, I am told," 
 replied Ernest, " who accompanied her husband in his travels, 
 and assisted him in every enterprise, by the energy of her mind 
 and the constancy of her heart, and whose exquisite taste di 
 rected the formation of this graceful structure. She painted 
 the frescos on the ceiling of the boudoir, and that richly tinted 
 picture of an Italian sunset is the work of her hand. This 
 house and its decorations are not as costly as many others in 
 this city, but it has such an air of Asiatic magnificence it pro 
 duces an illusion on the eye. I wish, myself, it was not quite so 
 showy, but it makes such a charming contrast to the simplicity 
 and freshness of your character I cannot wish it otherwise." 
 
 " I fear I shall be spoiled. I shall imagine myself one of 
 those dark-eyed houris, who dwell in the bowers of paradise 
 and welcome the souls of the brave." 
 
 " That is no inappropriate comparison," said he ; " but you 
 must not believe me an Eastern satrap, Gabriella, who dares 
 not enter his wife s apartment without seeing the signal of ad- 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 243 
 
 mittance at the door. Here is another room opening into this ; " 
 and pressing a spring, a part of the dividing walls slid back, re 
 vealing an apartment of similar dimensions, and furnished with 
 equal elegance. 
 
 " This," added he, " was arranged by the master of the man 
 sion for his own accommodation. Here is his library, which 
 seems a_mass_ of burnished gold, from the splendid binding of 
 the books. By certain secret springs the light can be so grad 
 uated in this room, that you can vary it from the softest twi 
 light to the full blaze of day." 
 
 " The Arabian Nights dramatized ! " I exclaimed. " I fear 
 we are walking over trap-doors, whose secret mouths are ready 
 to yawn on the unsuspecting victim." 
 
 " Beware then, Gabriella, I may be one of the genii, whose 
 terrible power no mortal can evade, who can read the thoughts 
 of the heart as easily as the printed page. How would you 
 like to be perused so closely ? " 
 
 " Would that you could read every thought of my heart, Er 
 nest, every emotion of my soul, then you would know, what 
 words can never express, the height and depth of my love 
 and devotion I will not say gratitude since you reject and 
 disown it, but that I must ever feel. Can I ever forget the 
 generosity, the magnanimity, which, overlooking the cloud upon 
 my birth, has made me the sharer of your princely destiny, the 
 mistress of a home like this ? " 
 
 " You do not care for it, only as the expression of my affec 
 tion ; I am sure you do not," he repeated, and his dark gray 
 eye seemed to read the inmost depths of thought. 
 
 " Oh, no ! a cottage or a palace would be alike to me, pro 
 vided you are near me. It seems to me now as if I should 
 awake in the morning, and find I had been in a dream. I am 
 not sure that vou have not a magic ring on your finger that 
 produces this illusion." 
 
 But the morning sunbeams flashed on the softly murmuring 
 fountain, on the white polished forms of the Grecian myths, on 
 the trailing luxuriance of the tropic blossoms. They glanced in 
 
244 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 on the glittering drapery that wreathed the marble, columns, and 
 lighted the crystal dome over my head with a mild, subdued 
 radiance. 
 
 A boudoir which I had not seen the evening before elicited 
 my morning admiration, it was furnished with such exquisite 
 elegance, and contained so many specimens of the fine arts. 
 Two rosewood cabinets, inlaid with pearl, were filled with chefs- 
 d ceuvres from the hands of masters, collected in the old world. 
 They were locked ; but through the glass doors I could gaze 
 and admire, and make them all my own. An elegant escritoire 
 was open on the table, the only thing with which I could asso 
 ciate the idea of utility. Yes, there was a harp, that seemed 
 supported by a marble cherub, a most magnificent instru 
 ment. I sighed to think it was useless to me; but Ernest s 
 hand would steal music from its silent strings. 
 
 And now behold me installed as mistress of this lux 
 urious mansion, an utter stranger in the heart of a great 
 metropolis ! 
 
 It was now that I understood the reserve of Ernest s charac 
 ter. It was impossible that we should remain altogether stran 
 gers, living in a style which wealth only could sanction. Mr. 
 Harland, the gentleman with whom Ernest had corresponded, 
 moved in the circles of fashion and distinction, and he introduced 
 his friends and acquaintances, being himself a frequent and 
 agreeable visitor. Ernest received our guest with elegance and 
 politeness, these attributes were inseparable from himself, 
 but there was a coldness and reserve that seemed to forbid all 
 approach to intimacy. Fearful of displeasing him, I repressed 
 the natural frankness and social warmth of my nature, and I 
 am sure our visitors often departed chilled and disappointed. 
 The parlor was lined with mirrors, and I could not turn without 
 seeing myself reflected on every side ; and not only myself, but 
 an eye that watched my every movement, and an car that 
 drank in my every word. How could I feel at ease, or do jus 
 tice to those powers of pleasing with which nature may have 
 gifted me ? 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 245 
 
 Sometimes, though very seldom, Ernest was not present ; and 
 then my spirits rebounded from this unnatural constraint, and 
 I laughed and talked like other people. The youthful bright 
 ness of my feelings flashed forth, and I forgot that a clouded 
 star presided over iny young life. 
 
 21* 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 I WOULD not give the impression that, at this time, I 
 felt hurt at the coldness and reserve of Ernest, as exhibited 
 in society. I was fearful of displeasing him by showing too 
 much pleasure in what did not appear to interest him ; but 
 when the door was closed on the departing guest and he ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " Thank heaven ! we are once more alone ! " 
 
 I could not help echoing the sentiment which brought us so 
 close to each other, and rejoiced with him that formality and 
 restraint no longer interfered with the freedom of love and the 
 joys of home. He never appeared so illumined with intellect, 
 so glowing with feeling, as in moments like these ; and I was 
 flattered that a mind so brilliant, and a heart so warm, reserved 
 their brightness and their warmth for me. If he was happy 
 with me, and me only, how supremely blest should I be, with a 
 companion so intellectual and fascinating ! If Edith were but 
 near, so that I could say to her occasionally, " How happy I 
 am ! " if Mrs. Linwood were witli me to know that nothing had 
 yet arisen to disturb the heaven of our wedded happiness ; if 
 excellent Dr. Harlowe could only call in once in a while, with 
 his pleasant words and genial smiles ; or kindly feeling, awkward 
 Mr. Regulus, I should not have a wish ungratified. 
 
 It is true I sometimes wished I had something to do, but we 
 had supernumerary servants, and if I found any employment it 
 must have been similar to that of Jack the bean-boy, who 
 poured his beans on the floor and then picked them up again. 
 I was fond of sewing. But the wardrobe of a young bride is gen 
 erally too well supplied ; at least mine was, to admit of much 
 
 (246) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 247 
 
 exercise with the needle. I was passionately fond of reading, 
 and of hearing Ernest read ; and many an hour every day was 
 devoted to books. But the mind, like the body, can digest only a 
 certain quantity of food, and is oppressed by an excessive por 
 tion. 
 
 Had Ernest welcomed society, our superb parlor would have 
 been thronged with nightly guests ; but he put up bars of cere 
 mony against such intrusion ; polished silver they were, it is 
 true, but they were felt to be heavy and strong. He never vis 
 ited himself, that is, socially. He paid formal calls, as he would 
 an inevitable tax, rejoicing when the wearisome task was over ; 
 out beyond the limits of ceremony he could not be persuaded 
 to pass. 
 
 Gradually our evening visitors became few, the cold season 
 advanced, the fountain ceased to play in the grotto, and the 
 beautiful flowers were inclosed in the greenhouse. 
 
 Our rooms were warmed by furnaces below, which diffused a 
 summer temperature through the house. In mine, the heat 
 came up through an exquisite Etruscan vase, covered with flow 
 ers, which seemed to emit odor as well as warmth, and threw 
 the illusion of spring over the dullness and gloom of winter. 
 But I missed the glowing hearth of Mrs. Linwood, the bright 
 ness and heartiness of her winter fireside. 
 
 I never shall forget how I started with horror, when I was 
 conscious of a feeling of ennui, even in the presence of Ernest. 
 It was not possible I should be weary of the joys of heaven, if 
 I were capable of sighing in my own Eden bower. I tried to 
 banish the impression ; it WOULD return, and with it self-re 
 proach and shame. 
 
 If Ernest had not been lifted by wealth above the necessity 
 of exertion ; had he been obliged to exercise the talents with 
 which he was so liberally endowed for his own support and the 
 benefit of mankind ; had he some profession which compelled 
 him to mingle in the world, till the too exquisite edge of his 
 sensibilities were blunted by contact with firmer, rougher na 
 tures, what a blessing it would have been ! With what pride 
 would I have seen him go forth to his daily duties, sure that he 
 
248 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 was imparting and receiving good. With what rapture would 
 I have welcomed his returning footstep ! 
 
 Oh ! had he been a poor man, he would have been a great 
 man. He was not obliged to toil, either physically or mentally; 
 and indolence is born of luxury, and morbid sensibility luxuri 
 ates in the lap of indolence. Forms of beauty and grandeur 
 wait in the marble quarry for the hand of genius and skill. 
 Ingots of gold sleep in the mine, till the explorer fathoms its 
 depths and brings to light the hidden treasures. Labor is the 
 slave of the lamp of life, who alone keeps its flame from wax 
 ing dim. When a child, I looked upon poverty as man s greatest 
 curse ; but I now thought differently. To feel that every wish 
 is gratified, every want supplied, is almost as dreary as to in 
 dulge the wish, and experience the want, without the means of 
 satisfying the cravings of one or the urgency of the other. 
 
 Had Ernest been a poor man, he would not have had time 
 to think unceasingly of me. His mind would have been occu 
 pied with sterner thoughts and more exalted cares. But rich 
 as he was, I longed to see him live for something nobler than 
 personal enjoyment, to know that he possessed a higher aim 
 than love for me. I did not feel worthy to fill the capacities of 
 that noble heart. I wanted him to love me less, that I might 
 have something more to desire. 
 
 " Of what are you thinking so deeply, sweet wife ? " he asked, 
 when I had been unconsciously indulging in a long, deep reverie. 
 " What great subject knits so severely that fair young brow?" 
 he repeated, sitting by me, and taking my hand in his. 
 
 I blushed, for my thoughts were making bold excursions. 
 
 " I was thinking," I answered, looking bravely in his face, 
 " what a blessed thing it must be to do good, to have the will as 
 well as the power to bless mankind." 
 
 " Tell me what scheme of benevolence my little philanthro 
 pist is forming. What mighty engine would she set in motion 
 to benefit her species ? " 
 
 " I was thinking how happy a person must feel, who was able 
 to establish an asylum for the blind or the insane, a hospital 
 for the sick, or a home for the orphan. I was thinking how 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 249 
 
 delightful it would be to go out into the byways of poverty, the 
 abodes of sickness and want, and bid their inmates follow me, 
 where comfort and ease and plenty awaited them. I was 
 thinking, if I were a man, how I would love to be called the 
 friend and benefactor of mankind ; but, being a woman, how 
 proud and happy I should be to follow in the footsteps of such 
 a good and glorious being, and hear the blessings bestowed upon 
 his name." 
 
 I spoke with earnestness, and my cheeks glowed with en 
 thusiasm. I felt the clasp of his hand tighten as he drew me 
 closer to his side. 
 
 " You have been thinking," he said, in his peculiarly grave, 
 melodious accents, " that I am leading a self-indulging, too 
 luxurious life ? " 
 
 " Not you not you alone, dearest Ernest ; but both of us," 
 I cried, feeling a righteous boldness, I did not dream that I 
 possessed. " Do not the purple and the fine linen of luxury 
 enervate the limbs which they clothe? Is there no starving 
 Lazarus, who may rebuke us hereafter for the sumptuous fare 
 over which we have revelled ? I know how generous, how 
 compassionate you are ; how ready you are to relieve the 
 sufferings brought before your eye ; but how little we witness 
 here ! how few opportunities we have of doing good ! Ought 
 they not to be sought ? May they not be found everywhere in 
 this great thoroughfare of humanity ? " 
 
 " You shall find my purse as deep as your charities, my love 
 ly monitress," he answered, while his countenance beamed with 
 approbation. "My bounty as boundless as your desires. But, 
 in a great city like this, it is difficult to distinguish between 
 willing degradation and meritorious poverty. You could not go 
 into the squalid dens of want and sin, without soiling the white 
 ness of your spirit, by familiarity with scenes which I would 
 not have you conscious of passing in the world. There are 
 those who go about as missionaries of good among the lowest 
 dregs of the populace, whom you can employ as agents for 
 your bounty. There are benevolent associations, through which 
 your charities can flow in full and refreshing streams. Remem- 
 
250 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 ber, I place no limits to your generosities. As to your magni 
 ficent plans of establishing asylums and public institutions for 
 the lame, the halt, and the blind, perhaps my single means 
 might not be able to accomplish them, delightful as it would 
 be to have an angel following in my footsteps, and binding up 
 the wounds of suffering humanity." 
 
 He smiled with radiant good-humor at my Quixotic schemes. 
 Then he told me, that since he had been in the city he had 
 given thousands to the charitable associations which spread in 
 great lifegiving veins through every part of the metropolis. 
 
 " You think I am living in vain, my Gabriella," he said, 
 rising and walking the length of the splendid apartment and 
 again returning, " because I do not have my allotted daily task 
 to perform ; because I do not go forth, like the lawyer, with a 
 green bag under my arm ; like the minister, with a sermon in 
 my pocket ; or the doctor, with powders and pills. If necessity 
 imposed such tasks on me, I suppose I should perform them 
 with as good a grace as the rest ; but surely it would ill become 
 me to enter the lists with my needier brethren, and take the 
 bread from their desiring lips. Every profession is crowded. 
 Even woman is pressing into the throng, and claiming precedence 
 of man, in the great struggle of life. It seems to me, that it is 
 the duty of those on whom fortune has lavished her gifts, to 
 step aside and give room to others, who are less liberally 
 endowed. We may live in luxury ; but by so doing, our wealth 
 is scattered among the multitude, the useful arts are encouraged, 
 and much is done for the establishment of that golden mean, 
 which reason and philosophy have so long labored to secure." 
 
 As he thus spoke calmly, yet energetically, moving back and 
 forth under the arches of glittering azure, his pale, transparent 
 complexion lighted up glowingly. My eyes followed him with 
 exulting affection. I wondered at the presumption of which I 
 had been guilty. He had been doing good in secret, while I 
 imagined him forgetful of the sacred legacy, left by Christ to 
 the rich. I had wronged him in thought, and I told him so. 
 
 " You asked me of what I was thinking," I said, " and you 
 draw my thoughts from me as by magic. I have not told you 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 251 
 
 all. /do not sigh for other society ; but I fear you will become 
 weary of mine." 
 
 " Do we ev r er weary of moonlight, or the sweet, fresh air of 
 heaven ? No, Gabriella ; remain just as you are, ingenuous, 
 confiding, and true, and I desire no other companionship. You 
 so entirely fill my heart, there is no room for more. You never 
 have had, never will have a rival. You have a power over 
 me, such as woman seldom exercises over man. Love, with 
 most men, is the pastime and gladdener of life ; with me it is 
 life itself. A fearful responsibility is resting on you, my own, 
 dear bride ; but do not tremble. I do not think it is possible 
 for you to deceive me, for you are truth itself. I begin to think 
 you have changed my nature, and inspired me with trust and 
 confidence in all mankind." 
 
 I did not make any professions, any promises, in answer to 
 his avowal ; but if ever a fervent prayer rose from the human 
 heart, it ascended from mine, that I might prove worthy of this 
 trust, that I might preserve it unblemished, with a constant 
 reference to the eye that cannot be deceived, and the judg 
 ment that cannot err. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE _first misfortune of my married life, came in the person 
 of Margaret Melville. She burst into the boudoir one morning 
 like a young tornado, seizing me in her strong arms, and giving 
 me a shower of kisses, before I had time to recover from my 
 astonishment. 
 
 Ernest and myself were seated side by side by the escritoire. 
 He was reading, I was writing to Edith, little dreaming of 
 the interruption at hand. 
 
 "My dear creature," she exclaimed, with one of her inimita 
 ble ringing laughs, " how do you do ? You did n t think of 
 seeing me, I know you did n t. Where did I come from ? I 
 dropped down from the upper regions, you do not believe 
 that. Well, I came with a party of friends, who wanted me 
 to keep them alive. They are stopping at the Astor House. 
 By the way, my trunks are there, you may send for them 
 as soon as you please. (Her trunks ! she had come for a 
 long visit, then !) There is my bonnet, mantilla, and gloves, 
 here / am, body and soul, what a glorious lounge, good 
 old Crossus, what a palace you are in, I never saw any thing 
 so magnificent ! Why, this is worth getting married for ! If I 
 ever marry, it shall be to a rich man, and one who will let me 
 do just as I please, too." 
 
 Ernest in vain endeavored to conceal his vexation at this un 
 expected innovation on the elegant quietude and romantic 
 seclusion of our home. His countenance expressed it but too 
 plainly, and Margaret, careless as she was, must have observed 
 it. It did not appear to disconcert her, however. She had not 
 waited for an invitation, she did not trouble herself about a 
 
 (252) 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 253 
 
 welcome. She had come for her own amusement, and pro 
 vided that was secured, she cared not for our gratification. 
 
 I can hardly explain my own feelings. I always dreaded 
 coming in contact with her rudeness ; there was no sympathy 
 in our natures, and yet I experienced a sensation of relief 
 while listening to her bubbling and effervescent nonsense. My 
 mind had been kept on so high a tone, there was a strain, a 
 tension, of which I was hardly conscious till the bowstring was 
 slackened. Besides, she was associated with the recollections 
 of Grandison Place, she was a young person of my own sex, 
 and she could talk to me of Mrs. Linwood, and Edith, and the 
 friends of my rural life. So I tried to become reconciled to 
 the visitation, and to do the honors of a hostess with as good a 
 grace as possible. 
 
 Ernest took refuge in the library from her wild rattling, and 
 then she poured into my ear the idle gossip she had heard the 
 evening before. 
 
 " It never will do," she cried, catching a pair of scissors from 
 my work-box, and twirling them on the ends of her fingers at 
 the imminent risk of their flying into my eyes, " you must 
 put a stop to this Darby and Joan way of living, you will be 
 the byword of the fashionable world, I heard several gentle 
 men talking about you last night. They said your husband 
 was so exclusive and jealous he would not let the sun look upon 
 you if he could help it, that he had the house lighted through 
 the roof, so that no one could peep at you through the windows. 
 Oh ! I cannot repeat half the ridiculous things they said, but I 
 am sure your ears must have burned from the compliments 
 they paid you, at least those who have had the good-luck to 
 catch a glimpse of your face. They all agreed that Ernest 
 was a frightful ogre, who ought to be put in a boiling cauldrcn, 
 for immuring you so closely, I am going to tell him so." 
 
 "Don t, Margaret, don t! If you have any regard for my 
 feelings, do n t, I entreat you, ever repeat one word of this un 
 meaning gossip to him. He is so peculiarly sensitive, he would 
 shrink still more from social intercourse. What a shame it 13 
 
 22 
 
254 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 to talk of him in this manner. I am sure I have as much lib 
 erty as I wish. He is ready to gratify every desire of my 
 heart. He has made me the happiest of human beings." 
 
 " Oh ! I know all that, of course. Who would not be happy 
 in such a palace as this ? " 
 
 " It is not the splendor with which he has surrounded me," I 
 answered, gravely, " but the love which is my earthly Provi 
 dence, which constitutes my felicity. You may tell these busy 
 idlers, who are so interested in iny domestic happiness, that I 
 thank my husband for excluding me from companions so inferior 
 to himself, so incapable of appreciating the purity and eleva 
 tion of his character." 
 
 " Well, my precious soul, do n t be angry with them. You are 
 a jewel of a wife, and I dare say he is a diamond of a husband ; 
 but you cannot stop peoples tongues. They will talk when 
 folks set themselves up as exclusives. But let me tell you one 
 thing, my pretty creature ! I am not going to be shut up in a 
 cage while I am here, I assure you. I am determined to see all 
 the lions ; go to all fashionable places of amusement, all attrac 
 tive exhibitions, theatres, concerts, panoramas, every thing that 
 promises the least particle of enjoyment. I shall parade Broad 
 way, frequent Stewart s marble palace, and make myself the 
 belle of the city. And you are to go with me, my dear, for 
 am I not your guest, and are you not bound to minister to my 
 gratification ? As for your ogre, he may go or stay, just as he 
 pleases. There will be plenty who will be glad enough to take 
 his place." 
 
 I did not expect that she would have the audacity to say this 
 to Ernest ; but she did. I had never asked him to take me to 
 places of public amusement, because I knew he did not wish it. 
 Sometimes, when I saw in the morning papers that a celebrated 
 actor was to appear in a fine drama, my heart throbbed with 
 momentary desire, and my lips opened to express it. But deli 
 cacy and. pride always restrained its expression. I waited for 
 him to say, 
 
 " Gabriella, would you like to go ? " 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 255 
 
 The morning after her arrival she ransacked the papers, and 
 fastening on the column devoted to amusements, read its con 
 tents aloud, to the evident annoyance of Ernest. 
 
 " ]S"iblo s Garden, the inimitable Ravels La Fete cham- 
 petre, dancing on the tight-rope, etc. Yes, that s it. We 
 will go there to-night, Gabriella. I have been dying to see the 
 Ravels. Cousin Ernest, you did not know that you were my 
 cousin, did you ? but you are. Our mothers have been climb 
 ing the genealogical tree, and discovered our collateral branches. 
 Cousin Ernest, go and get us tickets before the best seats are 
 secured. What an unpromising countenance ! Never mind. 
 Mr. Harland said he would be only too happy to attend Ga 
 briella and myself to any place of amusement or party of pleas 
 ure. You are not obliged to go, unless you choose. Is he, Ga 
 briella ? " 
 
 " I certainly should not think of going without him," I an 
 swered, vexed to discover how much I really wished to go. 
 
 " But you wish to go, you know you do. Poor, dear little 
 soul ! You have never been anywhere, you have seen noth 
 ing, you live as close and demure as a church mouse, 
 while this man-monster, who has nothing in the universe to do, 
 from morning till night, but wait upon you and contribute to 
 your gratification, keeps you at home, like a bird in a cage, 
 just to look at and admire. It is too selfish. If you will 
 not tell him so, / will. He shall hear the truth from some 
 body." 
 
 " Margaret ! " I said, frightened at the pale anger of Ernest s 
 countenance. 
 
 " You dare not look me in the face and say that you do not 
 wish to go, Gabriella ? You know you dare not." 
 
 " I desire nothing contrary to my husband s wishes." 
 
 " You are a little simpleton, then, and I do n t care what 
 people say. It is a sin to encourage him in such selfishness and 
 despotism." 
 
 She laughed, but her lips curled with scorn. 
 
 Ernest took up a pearl paper-cutter from the table, and bent 
 it, till it broke like glass in his fingers. He did not know what 
 
256 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 he was doing. Madge only laughed the louder. She enjoyed 
 his anger and my trepidation. 
 
 " A pretty thing to make a scene of ! " she exclaimed. " Here 
 I come all the way from Boston to make you a visit, expect 
 ing you would do every thing to make me happy, as other folks 
 do, when friends visit them. I propose a quiet, respectable 
 amusement, in my own frank, go-ahead way, and lo ! my 
 lord frowns, and my lady trembles, and both, occupied in watch 
 ing each other s emotions, forget they have a guest to entertain, 
 as well as a friend to gratify." 
 
 " You might wait till I have refused to accompany you, Miss 
 Melville," said Ernest, in a cold, calm voice. " You know mo 
 incapable of such rudeness. But I cannot allow even a lady to 
 make such unpardonable allusions to my domestic feelings and 
 conduct. If a man cannot find a sanctuary from insult in his 
 own home, he may well bar his doors against intrusion, and if 
 he has the spirit of a man, he will." 
 
 " She is only jesting," said I, with a beseeching glance. "You 
 know Madge of old, she never says any thing she really 
 thinks. How can you be excited by any remarks of hers ? " 
 
 " Cousin Ernest," cried Madge, while the laughing devil in her 
 great black eyes tried to shrink into a hiding-place, " have you 
 not manliness to forgive me, when the rash humor which my 
 mother gave me makes me forgetful ? " 
 
 She held out her hand with an ardent desire for reconciliation. 
 She found she had a spirit to contend with, stronger than she 
 imagined ; and for the moment she was subdued. 
 
 " Not your mother, Margaret," replied Ernest, taking the 
 offered hand with a better grace than I anticipated. " She is 
 gentle and womanly, like my own. I know not whence you 
 derived your wickedness." 
 
 " It is all original. I claim the sole credit of it. Father 
 and mother both saints. I am a moral tangent, flying off be 
 tween them. Well, we are friends again ; are we not ? " 
 
 " We are at peace," he answered. " You know the con 
 ditions, now, and I trust will respect them." 
 
 " We are all going to Niblo s," she cried eagerly ; " that is 
 one condition." 
 
EKNEST LINWOOD. 257 
 
 " Certainly," he answered ; and lie could not help smiling at 
 the adroitness with which she changed positions with him. 
 
 " Will you really like to go, Gabriella?" he asked, turning to 
 me ; and his countenance beamed with all its wonted tenderness. 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed I will. I am sure it will be delightful." 
 
 " And have you ever desired to partake of pleasures, without 
 telling me of your wishes ? " 
 
 " I do not know that I can call the transient emotion I have 
 felt, a desire," I answered ; blushing that I had ever cherished 
 thoughts which I was unwilling to disclose. " I believe curi 
 osity is natural to youth and inexperience." 
 
 " Perfect love casteth out fear, Gabriella. You must promise 
 to tell me every wish of your heart ; and be assured, if consist 
 ent with reason, it shall be gratified " 
 
 Delighted at so pleasant a termination to so inauspicious a 
 beginning, I looked forward to the evening s entertainment with 
 bright and elastic spirits. Once, as my eye rested on the frag 
 ments of pearl, I sighed to think how easily the pearls of sen 
 sibility, as well as all the frail and delicate treasures of life, 
 might be crushed by the hand of passion. 
 
 22* 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 I WAS surprised, when I found myself in a lofty dome, bril 
 liantly illuminated by gas, instead of the ample flower-garden 
 my imagination had described. I hardly know what idea I had 
 formed; but I expected to be seated in the open air, in the 
 midst of blossoming plants, and singing birds, and trees, on 
 whose branches variegated lamps were burning. Ernest smiled 
 when I told him of my disappointment. 
 
 " So it is with the illusions of life," said he. " They all pass 
 away. The garden which you passed before the entrance, has 
 given its name to the place; and even that, the encroaching 
 steps of business will trample on." 
 
 Mr. Harland escorted Meg, who was in exuberant spirits, 
 and as usual attracted the public gaze by her dashing and reck 
 less demeanor. Conspicuous, from her superior height, her 
 large, roving black eyes, and her opera cloak of brilliant cherry 
 color, I felt sheltered from observation in her vicinity, and 
 hoped that Ernest would find I could mingle in public scenes 
 without drawing any peculiar attention. Indeed, I was so ab 
 sorbed by the graceful and expressive pantomime, the novelty 
 and variety of the scenic decorations, that I thought not where 
 I was, or who I was. To city dwellers, a description of these 
 would be as unnecessary as uninteresting ; but perhaps some 
 young country girl, as inexperienced as myself in fashionable 
 amusements, may like to follow my glowing impressions. 
 
 One scene I remember, which had on me the effect of en 
 chantment. 
 
 The stage represented one of those rural fetes, where the 
 peasantry of France gather on the village green, to mingle in 
 (258) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 259 
 
 the exhilarating dance. An aged couple came forward, hand in 
 hand, in coarse grey overcoats, wooden sabots, and flapped hats, 
 fastened by gray handkerchiefs under their chins. Two tight 
 ropes were stretched parallel to each other, about eight or ten 
 feet above the stage, and extended over the parquette. A light 
 ladder rested against them, on each side. The aged couple tot 
 tered to the ladder, and attempted to ascend ; but, at the first 
 step, they fell and rolled on the ground. 
 
 " Poor creatures ! " said I, trembling for their safety. " Why 
 will they make such a ridiculous attempt ? Why will not some 
 of the bystanders prevent them, instead of urging them with 
 such exulting shouts?" 
 
 "They deserve to suffer for their folly, answered Ernest, 
 laughing. " Age should not ape the agility of youth. Perhaps 
 they will do better than you anticipate." 
 
 After repeated attempts and failures, they stood, balancing 
 themselves painfully on the ropes, clinging to each other s 
 hands, and apparently trembling with terror. 
 
 < ; They will fall ! " I exclaimed, catching hold of Ernest s 
 arm, and covering my eyes. I cannot bear to look at them. 
 There ! how dreadfully they stagger." 
 
 Again I covered my eyes, resolved to shut out the catastrophe 
 of their broken necks and mangled limbs, when thunders of 
 acclamation shook the house ; and, looking up, I beheld a trans 
 formation that seemed supernatural. The old great-coats, 
 clumsy sabots, and hats, were scattered to the ground ; and two 
 youthful figures, glittering in white and silver, light and grace 
 ful as " feathered Mercuries," stood, hand in hand, poised on 
 one foot, on the tight-drawn ropes. They danced. I never 
 realized before the music of motion. Now, they floated down 
 wards like softly rolling clouds ; tlien vaulted upwards like two 
 white-winged birds, with sunbeams shining on their plumage. 
 A bright, fearless smile illumined their countenances ; their 
 dark, waving locks shone in the dazzling light. 
 
 Ernest seemed to enjoy my rapture. " I take more pleasure," 
 he said, " watching your vivid emotions, than in witnessing this 
 wonderfully graceful exhibition. What a perfect child of nature 
 
260 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 you are, Gabriella. You should thank me for keeping you 
 somewhat aloof from the fascinations of the world. It is only 
 in the shade, that the dew remains on the flower." 
 
 I do not think one glance of mine had wandered from the 
 stage, save to meet the eye of Ernest. We sat in the second 
 row of boxes, about half-way distant from the stage and the cen 
 tre. I knew that every seat was crowded, but I did not observe the 
 occupants. Meg, who cared as much about the audience as the 
 performers, kept her opera-glass busy in gazing on those who 
 were remote, and her own bold, magnificent eyes in examining 
 those in her vicinity. 
 
 " Gabriella ! " she whispered, " do look at that gentleman in 
 the next box, one seat in advance of us. He has been gaz 
 ing at you for an hour steadily. Do you know him ? " 
 
 I shook my head, and made a motion, enjoining silence. I 
 did not think Ernest had heard her, and I did not wish his atten 
 tion directed towards an impertinence of this kind. It would 
 make him angry, and he seemed to have enjoyed the evening. 
 
 " Why do n t you look ? " again whispered Meg. " He may 
 leave the box. He is certainly trying to magnetize you." 
 
 Impelled by growing curiosity, I glanced in the direction she 
 indicated, and met the unreceding gaze of a pair of dark, intense 
 eyes, that seemed to burn in their sockets. Their owner was a 
 gentleman, who appeared about forty years of age, of a very 
 striking figure, and features originally handsome, but wearing the 
 unmistakable stamp of dissipation. I blushed at his bold and 
 steadfast scrutiny, and drew involuntarily nearer to Ernest. 
 Ernest observed his undaunted stare, and his brows contracted 
 over his flashing eyes. The gentleman, perceiving this, turned 
 towards the stage, and seemed absorbed in admiration of the 
 graceful and inimitable Ravels. 
 
 " Scoundrel ! " muttered Ernest, leaning forward so as to in 
 terpose a barrier to his insolence. 
 
 " Did you speak to me, cousin Ernest ? " asked Meg, with 
 affected simplicity. 
 
 He made no reply ; and as the stranger did not turn again, I 
 became so interested in the performance as to forget his bold- 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 261 
 
 ness. During the interlude between the plays, I begged Ernest 
 to get me a glass of water. Meg made the same request of Mr. 
 Harlnnd, and for a short time we were left alone. 
 
 The moment the gentlemen had left the box, the stranger rose 
 and stepped into the box behind him, which brought him on a 
 line with us, and close to me, as I was seated next to the parti 
 tion. I did not look him in the face ; but I could not help being 
 conscious of his movements, and of the probing gaze he again 
 fixed on me. I wished I had not asked for the water. I could 
 have borne the faintness and oppression caused by the odor of 
 the gas better than that dark, unshrinking glance. I dreaded 
 the anger of Ernest on his return. I feared he would openly 
 resent an insolence so publicly and perse veringly displayed. 
 We were side by side, with only the low partition of the boxes 
 between us, so near that I felt his burning breath on my cheek, 
 a breath in which the strong perfume of orris-root could not 
 overcome the fumes of the narcotic weed. I tried to move 
 nearer Meg, but her back was partially turned to me, in the act 
 of conversing with some gentleman who had just entered the 
 box, and she was planted on her seat firm as a marble statue. 
 
 The stranger s hand rested on the partition, and a note fell 
 into my lap. 
 
 " Conceal this from your husband," said a low, quick voice, 
 scarcely above a whisper, " or his life shall be the forfeit as well 
 as mine." 
 
 As he spoke, he lifted his right hand, exhibiting a miniature 
 in its palm, in golden setting. One moment it flashed on my 
 gaze, then vanished, but that glance was enough. I recognized 
 the lovely features of my mother, though blooming with youth, 
 and beaming with hope and joy. 
 
 To snatch up the note and hide it in my bosom, was an act 
 as instinctive as the beating of my heart. It was my father, 
 then, from whose scorching gaze I had been shrinking with 
 such unutterable dread and loathing, the being whom she 
 had once so idolatrously loved, whom in spite of her wrongs 
 she continued to love, the being who had destroyed her 
 peace, broken her heart, and laid her in a premature grave, 
 
2G2 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 the being whom her dying lips commanded me to forgive, whom 
 her prophetic dream warned me to protect from unknown 
 danger. My father ! I had imagined him dead, so many years 
 had elapsed since my mother s flight. I had thought of him as 
 a fabulous being. I dreamed not of encountering him, and if I 
 had, I should have felt secure, for how could he recognize me ? 
 My father! cold and sick I turned away, shivering with in 
 describable apprehension. He had destroyed my mother, 
 he had come to destroy me. That secret note, that note 
 which I was to conceal, or meet so awful a penalty, seemed to 
 scorch the bosom that throbbed wildly against its folds. 
 
 All that I have described occurred in the space of a few 
 moments. Before Ernest returned, the stranger had resumed 
 his seat, (I cannot, oh, I cannot call him father,) and there 
 was no apparent cause for my unconquerable emotion. Meg, 
 who was laughing and talking with her companions, had ob 
 served nothing. The secret was safe, on which I was told two 
 lives depended. Two, I might say three, since one was the 
 life of Ernest. 
 
 I attempted to take the glass of water, but my hand shook so 
 I could not hold it. I dared not look in the face of Ernest, 
 lest he should read in mine all that had occurred. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he asked, anxiously. " Gabriella, 
 has any thing alarmed you during my absence ? " 
 
 " The odor of the gas sickens me," I answered, evading the 
 question ; " if you are willing, I should like to return home." 
 
 " You seem strangely affected in crowds," said he, in an un 
 dertone, and bending on me a keen, searching glance. " I re 
 member on commencement day you were similarly agitated." 
 
 " I do indeed seem destined to suffer on such occasions," I 
 answered, a sharp pang darting through my heart. I read sus 
 picion in his altered countenance. The flower leaves were be 
 ginning to wither. " If Miss Melville is willing, I should like 
 to return." 
 
 " What is that you say about going home ? " cried Meg, turn 
 ing quickly round. " What in the world is this, Gabriella ? 
 You look as if you had seen a ghost ! " 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 263 
 
 " Whatever she has seen, it is probable you have been 
 equally favored, Miss Melville, since you were together," said 
 Ernest, in the same cold undertone. The orchestra was 
 playing a magnificent overture, there was laughter aud merri 
 ment around us, so the conversation in our box was not over 
 heard. 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed Meg. " I have not seen any thing but one 
 sociable looking neighbor. I should not wonder if his eyes had 
 blistered her face, they have been glowing on her so intensely." 
 As she raised her voice, the stranger turned his head, and 
 again I met them, those strange, basilisk eyes. They seemed 
 to drink my heart s blood. It is scarcely metaphorical to say 
 so, for every glance left a cold, deadly feeling behind. 
 
 " Come, Gabriella," said Ernest ; " if Miss Melville wishes it, 
 she can remain with Mr. Haiiand. I will send back the car 
 riage for them." 
 
 " To be sure I wish it," cried Meg. " They say the best part 
 of the amusement is to come. Gabriella has a poor opinion of 
 my nursing, so I will not cast my pearls away. I am glad / 
 have not any nerves, my dear little sensitive plant. It is a 
 terrible thing to be too attractive to venture abroad ! " 
 
 The latter part of the sentence was uttered in a whisper, 
 while suppressed laughter convulsed her frame. 
 
 Ernest did not open his lips as he conducted me from the 
 theatre to the carriage, and not a word was spoken djuring our 
 homeward ride. The rattling of the pavements was a relief to 
 the cold silence. Instead of occupying the same seat with me, 
 Ernest took the one opposite ; and as we passed the street lamps 
 they flashed on his face, and it seemed that of a statue, so cold 
 and impressive it looked. What did he suspect ? What had 
 I done to cause this deep displeasure ? He knew not of the 
 note which I had concealed, of the words which still hissed in 
 my ears. The bold gaze of the stranger would naturally excite 
 his anger against him, but why should it estrange him from me ? 
 I had yet to learn the wiles and the madness of his bosom 
 enemy. 
 
 When I took his hand, as he assisted me from the carriage, 
 
264 EUNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 I started, for it was as chill as ice, and the fingers, usually so 
 pliant and gentle in their fold, were inflexible as marble. I 
 thought I should have fallen to the pavement ; but exerting all 
 the resolution of which I was mistress, I entered the house, and 
 passed under the dim glitter of the silvery drapery into my own 
 apartment. 
 
 I had barely strength to reach the sofa, on which I sunk in 
 a state of utter exhaustion. I feared I was going to faint, and 
 then they would loosen my dress and discover the fatal note. 
 
 " Wine ! " said I to the chambermaid, who was folding my 
 opera cloak, which I had dropped on the floor ; " give me wine. 
 I am faint." 
 
 I remembered the red wine which Dr. Harlowe gave me, after 
 my midnight run through the dark woods, and how it infused 
 new life into my sinking frame. Since then I had been afraid 
 to drink it, for the doctor had laughingly assured me, that it 
 had intoxicated, while it sustained. Now, I wanted strength 
 and courage, and it came to me, after swallowing the glowing 
 draught. I lifted my head, and met the cold glance of Ernest 
 without shivering. I dared to speak and ask him the cause of 
 his anger. 
 
 " The cause ! " repeated he, his eyes kindling with passion. 
 " Who was the bold libertine, before whose unlicensed gaze you 
 blushed and trembled, not with indignation, such as a pure and 
 innocent woman ought to feel ; but with the bashful confusion 
 the veteran roue delights to behold ? Who was this man, whose 
 presence caused you such overpowering emotion, and who ex 
 changed with you glances of such mysterious meaning? Tell 
 me, for I will know." 
 
 Oh that I had dared to answer, " He is my father. Covered 
 with shame and humiliation, I acknowledge my parentage, 
 which makes me so unworthy to bear your unsullied name. 
 My darkened spirit would hide itself behind a cloud, to escape 
 the villain whom nature disowns and reason abhors." But, un 
 knowing the contents of the mysterious note, unknowing the 
 consequences to himself which might result from its disclosure, 
 remembering the injunction of my dying mother, to be to him 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 265 
 
 a guardian angel in the hour of danger, I could not save my 
 self from blame by revealing the truth. I could not stain my 
 lips with a falsehood. 
 
 " I never saw that man before," I replied. " Most husbands 
 would think modest confusion more becoming in a wife, than the 
 indignation which he usually deems it his own prerogative to 
 exhibit. If 1 have been insulted, methinks you should wreak 
 your vengeance on the offender, instead of me, the innocent 
 sufferer. It would be more manly." 
 
 " Would you have had me make the theatre a scene of strife 
 and bloodshed ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " No ! neither would I have you bring warring passions into 
 the peaceful bosom of your own home." 
 
 " Is this you ? " he cried, looking me sternly and sorrow 
 fully in the lace. " Is this the gentle and tender Gabriella, who 
 speaks in such a tone of bitterness and scorn ? " 
 
 " I did not know that I spoke bitterly ! " I exclaimed. " Oh, 
 Ernest, you have roused in me a spirit of resistance I tremble 
 to feel ! You madden me by your reproaches ! You wrong me 
 by your suspicions ! I meant to be gentle and forbearing ; but 
 the worm will writhe under the foot that grinds it into dust. 
 Alas ! how little we know ourselves ! " 
 
 With anguish that cannot be described, I clasped my hands 
 tightly over my heart, that ached with intolerable pangs. I had 
 lost him, lost his love, lost his confidence. Had I seen him 
 in his grave, I could scarcely have felt more utter desolation. 
 
 " I told you what I was," he cried, the pale severity of his 
 countenance changing to the most stormy agitation. " I told you 
 that the cloud which hung over my cradle would follow me to 
 the grave ; that suspicion and jealousy were the twin-born 
 phantoms of my soul. Why, then, rash and blind, have you 
 committed your happiness into my keeping ? You were warned, 
 and yet you hastened to your doom." 
 
 " Because I believed that you loved me ; because I loved 
 and trusted, with a love and faith more deep and strong than 
 woman ever knew." 
 
 " And I have destroyed them. I knew it would be so. 1 
 23 
 
266 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 knew that I would prove a faithless guardian to a charge too 
 dear. Gabriella, I am a wretch, deserving your hatred 
 and indignation. I have insulted your innocence, by suspicions 
 I should blush to admit. Love, too strong for reason, converts 
 me at times into a madman. I do not ask you to forgive me ; 
 but if you could conceive of the agonies I endure, you would 
 pity me, were I your direst foe." 
 
 Remorse, sorrow, tenderness, and love, all swept over his 
 countenance, and gave pathos to his voice. I rose and sprang 
 to his arms, that opened to receive me, and I clung to his neck, 
 and wept upon his bosom, till it seemed that my life would dis 
 solve itself in tears. Oh ! it seemed that I had leaped over a 
 yawning abyss to reach him, that I had found him just as I was 
 losing him for ever. I was once more in the banqueting-house 
 of joy, and " his banner over me was love." 
 
 " Never again, my husband, never close your heart against 
 me. I have no other home, no other refuge, no other world, 
 than your arms." 
 
 " You have forgiven me too soon, my Gabriella. You should 
 impose upon me some penalty equal to the offence, if such in 
 deed there be. Oh ! most willingly would I cut off the hand 
 so tenderly clasped in yours and cast it into the flames, if by 
 so doing I could destroy the fiend who tempts me to suspect 
 fidelity, worthy of eternal trust. You think I give myself up 
 without a struggle to the demon passion, in whose grasp you 
 have seen me writhing ; but you know not, dream not, how 1 
 wrestle with it in secret, and what prayers I send up to God for 
 deliverance. It seems impossible now that I should ever doubt 
 ever wrong you again, and yet I dare not promise. Oh ! I 
 dare not promise ; for when the whirlwind of passion rises, I 
 know not what I do." 
 
 Had I not been conscious that I was concealing something 
 from him, that while he was restoring to me his confidence, I 
 was deceiving him, I should have been perfectly happy in this 
 hour of reconciliation. But as he again and again clasped me 
 to his bosom, and lavished upon me the tenderest caresses, I in 
 voluntarily shrunk from the pressure, lest he should feel the 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 267 
 
 note, which seemed to flutter, so quick and loud my heart beat 
 against it. 
 
 We are neither of us fit for the fashionable world, my 
 Gabriella," said he ; " we have hearts and souls fitted for a 
 purer, holier atmosphere than the one we now breathe. If we 
 had some l bright little isle of our own, where we were safe 
 from jarring contact with ruder natures, remote from the social 
 disturbances which interrupt the harmony of life, where we 
 could live for love and God, then, my Gabriella, I would not 
 envy the angels around the throne. No scene like this to-night 
 would ever mar the heaven of our wedded bliss. " 
 
 Ernest did not know himself. Even in Crusoe s desert isle, 
 if the print of human footsteps were discovered on the sand, 
 and had he flown to the uttermost parts of the earth, the phan 
 tom created by his own diseased imagination would have pur 
 sued him like the giant form that haunted from pole to pole the 
 unhappy Frankenstein. Man cannot escape from his own pas 
 sions ; and in solitude their waves beat against his bosom, like 
 the eternal dashing of the tide, scarcely perceived amidst the 
 active sounds of day, but roaring and thundering in the deep 
 stillness of the midnight hour. 
 
 " We were happy here before Margaret came," I answered ; 
 " happy as it was possible for mortals to be. How strange that 
 she should have come unasked, remain unurged, without dream 
 ing of the possibility of her being otherwise than a welcome 
 guest ! " 
 
 " There should be laws to prevent households from such in 
 trusions," said Ernest, with warmth. " I consider such persons 
 as great offenders against the peace of society as the midnight 
 robber or the lurking assassin. Margaret Melville cares for 
 nothing but her own gratification. A contemptible love of fun 
 and frolic is the ruling passion of her life. How false, how 
 artificial is that system where there is no redress for encroach 
 ments of this kind ! Were I to act honestly and as I ought, I 
 should say to her at once, leave us, your presence is intol 
 erable, there is no more affinity between us than between 
 
268 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 glass and brass. But what would my mother say? What 
 would the world say? What would you say, my own dear 
 wife, who desire her departure even as I do myself? " 
 
 " I should be very much shocked, of course. If she had the 
 least sensitiveness or delicacy of feeling, she would read all this 
 in your countenance and manners. I often fear she will per 
 ceive in mine, the repulsion I cannot help experiencing. For 
 your mother s sake I wish to be kind to Margaret." 
 
 " Do you know, Gabriella, she once wished me to think of 
 her as a wife? That was before her character was formed, 
 however, when its wild, untamable elements revelled in the 
 morning freedom of girlhood, and reason and judgment were 
 not expected to exert their restraining influence. Think of 
 such an union, my flower-girl, my Mimosa. Do I deserve 
 quite so severe a punishment ? " 
 
 " You would have lived in a perpetual fever of jealousy, or a 
 state of open anarchy. There would have been some memora 
 ble scenes in your diary, I am certain." 
 
 " Jealousy ! The idea of being jealous of such a being as 
 Margaret ! The rhinoceran bear might inspire the passion as 
 soon. No, Gabriella, I do not believe I could be jealous of 
 another woman in the world, for I cannot conceive of the possi 
 bility of my ever loving another ; and the intensity of my love 
 creates a trembling fear, that a treasure so inestimable, so un 
 speakably dear, may be snatched from my arms. It is not so 
 much distrust of you, as myself. I fear the casket is not 
 worthy of the jewel it enshrines!" 
 
 " Be just to yourself, Ernest, and then you will be just to all 
 mankind." 
 
 " The truth is, Gabriella, I have no self-esteem. A cele 
 brated German phrenologist examined my head, and pronounced 
 it decidedly deficient in the swelling organ of self-apprecia 
 tion." 
 
 He took my hand and placed it on his head, amid his soft, 
 luxuriant dark hair, and it certainly met no elevation. I was 
 not skilled iii the science of phrenology, and there might be a 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 269 
 
 defect in the formation of his head ; but on his noble brow, it 
 seemed to me that " every God had set its seal," and left the 
 impress of his own divinity. 
 
 We started, for the steps of Madge were heard rushing up 
 the marble stairs, and the sound of her laugh swept before her, 
 and pressed against the door like a strong gale. 
 
 Oh Madge ! that any one should ever have thought of you 
 as the wife of Ernest. 
 
 23* 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 IT was not till the next morning that I dared to read the 
 contents of the note. It was in the magnificent bathing-room, 
 on whose retirement no one ever intruded, that I perused these 
 pencilled lines, evidently written with a hasty and agitated 
 hand. 
 
 " Can it be that I have found a daughter ? Yes ! in those 
 lovely features I trace the living semblance of my beloved 
 Rosalie. Where is she, my child ? Where is your angel 
 mother, whom I have sought sorrowing so many years ? They 
 tell me that you are married, that it is your husband who 
 watches you with such jealous scrutiny. He must not know 
 who I am. I am a reckless, desperate man. It would be dan 
 gerous to us both to meet. Guard my secret as you expect to 
 find your grave peaceful, your eternity free from remorse. 
 When can I see you alone ? Where can I meet you ? I am 
 in danger, distress, ruin and death are hanging over me, 
 I must flee from the city ; but I must see you, my child, my 
 sweet, my darling Gabriella. I must learn the fate of my lost 
 Rosalie. 
 
 " The curtain falls, I dare not write more. Walk in the 
 
 Park to-morrow morning at ten o clock, where I will wait 
 
 your coming. Come alone, I ask only a few moments. A 
 father pleads with his child ! As you hope for an answer to 
 your dying prayers, come, child of my Rosalie, child of my 
 own sad heart." 
 
 Once, twice, thrice I read these lines, the death-war 
 rant of my wedded peace. How could I resist so solemn an 
 appeal, without violating the commands of a dying mother? 
 How could I meet him, without incurring the displeasure of my 
 
 (270) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 271 
 
 husband ? What possibility was there of my leaving home 
 alone, when Ernest scarcely ever left me ; when, after his re 
 turn, if he chanced to go out, he always asked me how I had 
 passed the time of his absence ? How could I preserve out 
 ward composure, with such a secret burning in my heart? A 
 sigh, involuntarily breathed, a tear, forcing its way beneath 
 the quivering lash, would expose me to suspicion and distress. 
 What could I, should I do ? I was alone, now ; and I yielded 
 momentarily to an agony of apprehension, that almost drove 
 me mad. Qn one side, a guilty, ruined parent ; on the other, a 
 jealous husband, whose anger was to me a consuming fire. No, 
 no ; I could never expose myself again to that. I trembled at 
 the recollection of those pale, inflexible features, and that eye 
 of stormy splendor. The lightning bolt was less terrible and 
 scathing. Yet, to turn a deaf ear to a father s prayer ; to dis 
 regard a mother s injunction ; to incur, perhaps, the guilt of 
 parricide; to hazard the judgments of the Almighty; how 
 awful the alternative ! 
 
 I sank down on my knees, and laid my head on the marble 
 slab on which I had been seated. I tried to pray ; but hysteri 
 cal sobs choked my words. 
 
 " Have pity upon me, O my heavenly Father ! " at length I 
 exclaimed, raising my clasped hands to heaven. " Have pity 
 upon me, and direct me in the right path. Give me courage to 
 do right, and leave the result unto Thee. I float on a stormy 
 current, without pilot or helm. I sink beneath the whelming 
 billows. Help, Lord ! or I perish ! " 
 
 Before I rose from my knees, it seemed as if invisible arms 
 surrounded me, bearing me up, above the dark and troubled 
 waters. I felt as if God would open a way for me to walk in ; 
 and I resolved to leave the event in his hands. Had I applied 
 to an earthly counsellor, with wisdom to direct, they might have 
 told me, that one who had been guilty of the crime my father 
 had committed, had forfeited every claim on a daughter s heart. 
 That I had no right to endanger a husband s happiness, or to 
 sacrifice my own peace, in consequence of his rash demand. 
 No instinctive attraction drew me to this mysterious man. In- 
 
272 ERNEST L 1 N W O O D . 
 
 stead of the yearnings of filial affection, I felt for him an uncon 
 querable repugnance. His letter touched me, but his counte 
 nance repelled. His bold, unreceding eye ; not thus should 
 a father gaze upon his child. 
 
 Upon what apparent trifles the events of our life sometimes 
 depend ! At the breakfast table, Madge suddenly asked what 
 day of the month it was. 
 
 Then I remembered that it was the day appointed for a meet 
 ing of the ladies composing a benevolent association, of which 
 I had been lately made a member. After the conversation 
 with Ernest, in which I had expressed such an anxiety to do 
 good, he had supplied me bountifully with means, so that my 
 purse was literally overflowing. I had met the society once, 
 and had gone alone. The hour of the meeting was ten. What 
 a coincidence ! Was Providence opening a way in which my 
 doubting feet should walk ? When I mentioned the day of the 
 month, I added, 
 
 " Our Society for the Relief of Invalid Seamstresses meets 
 this morning. I had forgotten it, till your question reminded 
 me that this was the day." 
 
 " Do not your coffers need replenishing, fair Lady Bounti 
 ful?" asked Ernest. "This is an association founded on 
 principles which I revere. If any class of females merit the 
 sympathy and kind offices of the generous sisterhood, it is that, 
 whose services are so ill repaid, and whose lives must be one 
 long drawn sigh of weariness and anxiety. Give, my Gabriella, 
 to your heart s content ; and if one pale cheek is colored with 
 the glow of hope, one dim eye lighted with joy, something will 
 be added to the sum of human happiness." 
 
 Ernest was unusually kind and tender. He watched me as 
 the fond mother does the child, whom she has perhaps too se 
 verely chided. He seemed to wish to atone for the pain he had 
 given, and to assure me by his manner that his confidence was 
 perfectly restored. 
 
 " I shall avail myself of your absence," said he, "to pay some 
 of my epistolary debts. They have weighed heavy on my con 
 science for some time." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 273 
 
 " And I," said Madge, " have engaged to spend the day with 
 Miss Haven. You can drop me on the way." 
 
 Madge had behaved unusually well during the morning, 
 and did not harass me at the breakfast table, as I feared she 
 would, about the bold stranger at the theatre. Perhaps my 
 pale cheeks spoke too plainly of the sufferings of the evening, 
 and she had a heart after all. 
 
 As I went into my room to prepare for going out, my hands 
 trembled so that I could scarcely fasten the ribbons of my bon 
 net. Every thing seemed to facilitate my filial duty ; but the 
 more easy seemed its accomplishment, the more I shrunk from 
 the thought of deceiving Ernest, in this hour of restored tran 
 quillity and abounding love. I loathed the idea of deceiving any 
 one, but Ernest, my lover, my husband, how could I be 
 guile his new-born confidence ? " 
 
 He came in, and wrapped me up in my ermine-trimmed 
 cloak, warning me of exposing myself to the morning air, which 
 was of wintry bleakness. 
 
 "You must bring back the roses which I have banished from 
 your cheeks," said he, kissing them with a tenderness and gen 
 tleness that made my heart ache with anguish. I did not de 
 serve these caresses ; and if my purpose were discovered, would 
 they not be the last ? 
 
 Shuddering, as I asked myself this question, I turned to 
 wards him, as if to daguerreotype on my heart every lineament 
 of his striking and expressive face. How beautiful was his 
 countenance this moment, softened by tenderness, so delicately 
 pale, yet so lustrous, like the moonlight night ! 
 
 " Oh, Ernest ! " said I, throwing my arms around him, with a 
 burst of irrepressible emotion, " I am not worthy of the love you 
 bear me, but yet I prize it far more than life. If the hour 
 comes when it is withdrawn from me, I pray Heaven it may be 
 my last." 
 
 " It can never be withdrawn, my Gabriella. You may cast 
 it from your bosom, and it may wither, like the flower trampled 
 by the foot of man ; but by my own act it never can be de 
 stroyed. Nor by yours either, my beloved wife. At this 
 
274 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 moment I have a trust in you as entire as in heaven itself. I 
 look back with wonder and remorse on the dark delusions to 
 which I have submitted myself. But the spell is broken ; the 
 demon laid. Sorrow has had its season ; but joy hath come in 
 the morning. Smile, my darling Gabriella, in token of forgive 
 ness and peace." 
 
 I tried to smile, but the tears would gather into my eyes. 
 
 " Foolish girl ! " he cried. A loud laugh rung under the 
 silken arches. Madge stood in the open door, her great black 
 eyes brimming with mirth. 
 
 " When you have finished your parting ceremonies," she ex 
 claimed, " I think we had better start. One would think you 
 were going to Kamschatka or Terra del Fuego, instead of Broad 
 way. Oh dear ! what a ridiculous thing it is to see people in 
 love with each other, after they are married ! Come, Gabriella ; 
 you can carry his miniature with you." 
 
 As the carriage rolled from the gate, I was so agitated at the 
 thought of the approaching interview I could not speak. 
 Madge rattled away, in her usual light manner ; but I did not 
 attempt to answer her. I leaned back in the carriage, revolv 
 ing the best way of accomplishing my design. After leaving 
 Madge, instead of going to the lady s, at whose house the society 
 met, I ordered the coachman to drive to one of the fashionable 
 stores and leave me. 
 
 "Return in an hour," said I, as I left the carriage. "You 
 will find me at Mrs. Brahan s. Drive the horses out to the 
 Battery for exercise, as you usually do." 
 
 As I gave these orders, my heart beat so fast I could hard 
 ly articulate with distinctness. Yet there was nothing in them 
 to excite suspicion. The horses were high-fed and little used, 
 gay and spirited, and when we shopped or made morning calls, 
 the coachman was in the habit of driving them about, to subdue 
 their fiery speed. 
 
 I should make too conspicuous an appearance in the park, in 
 my elegant cloak, trimmed with costly ermine and bonnet 
 shaded with snowy plumes. I would be recognized at once, 
 for the bride of the jealous Ernest was an object of interest 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 275 
 
 and curiosity. To obviate this difficulty, I purchased a large 
 gray shawl, of soft, yielding material, that completely covered 
 my cloak ; a thick, green veil, through which my features could 
 not be discerned, and walked with rapid steps through the hur 
 rying crowd that thronged the side-walks towards the 
 
 Park. 
 
 It was too early an hour for the usual gathering of children 
 and nurses. Indeed, at this cold, wintry season, the warm 
 nursery was a more comfortable and enticing place. 
 
 The park presented a dreary, desolate aspect. No fountain 
 tossed up it s silvery waters, falling in rainbows back to earth. 
 The leafless branches of the trees shone coldly in the thin glaz 
 ing of frostwork and creaked against each other, as the bleak 
 wind whistled through them. Here and there, a ruddy-faced Irish 
 woman, wrapped in a large blanket-shawl, with a coarse straw 
 bonnet blown back from her head, breasted the breeze with a 
 little trotting child, who took half a dozen steps to one of hers, 
 tugging hard at her hand. It was not likely I should meet a 
 fashionable acquaintance at this early hour ; and if I did, I was 
 shrouded from recognition. 
 
 I had scarcely passed the revolving gate, before I saw a gen 
 tleman approaching from the opposite entrance with rapid and 
 decided steps. He was tall and stately, and had that unmis 
 takable air of high-breeding which, being once acquired, can 
 never be entirely lost. As he came nearer, I could distinguish 
 the features of the stranger ; features which, seen by daylight, 
 exhibited still more plainly the stamp of recklessness, dissipa 
 tion, and vice. They had once been handsome, but alas ! 
 alas ! was this the man who had captivated the hearts of two 
 lovely women, and then broken them ? Where was the fascina 
 tion which had enthralled alike the youthful Rosalie and the 
 impassioned Theresa ? Was this, indeed, the once gallant and 
 long beloved St. James ? 
 
 " You have come," he exclaimed, eagerly grasping my hand 
 and pressing it in his. "I bless you, my daughter, and 
 may God forever bless you for listening to a father s prayer ! " 
 
 u I have come," I answered, in low, trembling accents, for in- 
 
276 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 describable agitation almost choked my utterance, " but I can 
 not, dare not linger. It was cruel in you to bind me to 
 secrecy. Had it not been for the mother, whose dying 
 words " 
 
 " And is she dead, the wronged, the angel Rosalie ? 
 How vainly I have sought her, and thee, my cherub little 
 one ! My sufferings have avenged her wrongs." 
 
 He turned away, and covered his face with his handkerchief. 
 I saw his breast heave with suppressed sobs. It is an awful 
 thing to see a strong man weep, especially when the tears are 
 wrung by the agonies of remorse. I felt for him the most in 
 tense pity, the most entire forgiveness, yet I recoiled from 
 his approach, I shrunk from the touch of his dry and nervous 
 hand. I felt polluted, degraded, by the contact. 
 
 "My mother told me, if I ever met you, to give you not only 
 her forgiveness, but her blessing. She blessed you, for the suf 
 ferings that weaned her from earth and chastened her spirit 
 for a holier and happier world. She bade me tell you, that in 
 spite of her wrongs she had never ceased to love you. In obe 
 dience to her dying will, I have shown you a daughter s duty so 
 far as to meet you here, and learn what I can do for one placed 
 in the awful circumstances in which you declare yourself to be. 
 Speak quickly and briefly, for on every passing moment the 
 whole happiness of my life hangs trembling." 
 
 " Only let me see your face for the few moments we are 
 together, that I may carry its remembrance to my grave, 
 that face so like your mother s." 
 
 " What can I do ? " I exclaimed, removing the veil as I 
 spoke, for there was no one near ; and I could not refuse a 
 petition so earnest. " Oh, tell me quickly what I can do. 
 What dreadful doom is impending over you ? " 
 
 "You are beautiful, my child, very, very beautiful," said 
 he ; while his dark, sunken eyes seemed to burn me with the 
 intensity of their gaze. 
 
 " Talk not to me of beauty, at a moment like this ! " I ex 
 claimed, stamping my foot in the agony of my impatience. " I 
 cannot, will not stay, unless to aid you. Your presence is 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 277 
 
 Awful ! for it reminds me of my mother s wrongs, my OWD 
 clouded birth." 
 
 " I deserve this, and far more," he cried, in tones of the most 
 abject humility. " Oh, my child, I am brought very low ; I am 
 a lost and ruined man. Maddened by your mother s desertion, 
 I became reckless, desperate. I fled from the home another 
 had usurped. I became the prey of villains, who robbed me 
 of my fortune at the gaming table. Another, and another step ; 
 lower and lower still I sunk. I cannot tell you the story of 
 my ruin. Enough, I am lost ! The sword of the violated law 
 gleams over my head. Every moment it may fall. I dare not 
 remain another day in this city. I dare not stay in my native 
 land. If I do, yonder dismal Tombs will be my life-long 
 abode." 
 
 " Fly, then, fly this moment," I cried. " What madness ! 
 to linger in the midst of danger and disgrace ! " 
 
 " Alas ! my daughter, I ani penniless. I had laid aside a 
 large sum, sufficient for the emergency ; but a wretch robbed 
 me of all, only two nights since. Humiliating as it is, I must 
 turn beggar to my child. Your husband is a Dives ; I, the 
 Lazarus, who am perishing at his gate." 
 
 Ask him. He is noble and generous. He will fill your 
 purse with gold, and aid you to escape. Go to him at once. 
 You know not his princely heart." 
 
 " Never ! On you alone I depend. I will not ask a favor 
 of man, to save my soul from perdition. Girl ! have you no 
 power over the wealth that must be rusting in your coffers ? 
 Are you not trusted with the key to your household treasures?" 
 
 " Do you think I would take his gold clandestinely ? " I 
 asked, glowing with indignation, and recoiling from the expres 
 sion of his eager, burning eye. We were walking slowly during 
 this exciting conversation ; and, cold as it was, the moisture 
 gathered on my brow. " Here is a purse, given me for a holier 
 purpose. Take it, and let me go." 
 
 "Thank you, bless you, my child! but this will only re 
 lieve present necessity. It will not carry me in safety to dis- 
 
 24 
 
278 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 tant climes. Bless you ! but take it back, take it back. I can 
 only meet my doom ! " 
 
 " I will go to my husband ! " I exclaimed with sudden reso 
 lution ; " I will tell him all, and he, and he alone shall aid you. 
 I will not wrong him by acting without his knowledge. You 
 have no right to endanger my lifelong peace. You have de 
 stroyed my mother; must her child too be sacrificed ? " 
 
 " I see there is but one path of escape," he cried, snatching a 
 pistol from his breast, and turning the muzzle to his heart. 
 " Fool, dolt, idiot that I am ! I dreamed of salvation from a 
 daughter s hand, but I have forfeited a father s name, a father s 
 affection. Gabriella, you might save me, but I blame you not. 
 Do not curse me, though I fill a felon s grave ; better that 
 than the dungeon the scaffold." 
 
 "What would you do?" I whispered hoarsely, seizing his 
 arm with spasmodic grasp. 
 
 " Die, before I am betrayed." 
 
 " I will not betray you ; what sum will suffice for your 
 emergency ? Name it." 
 
 "As many thousands as there are hundreds there," pointing to 
 the purse. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " 
 
 " Gabriella, you must have jewels worth a prince s ransom ; 
 you had diamonds last night on your neck and arms that would 
 redeem your father s life. Each gem is but a drop of water in 
 the deep sea of his riches. His uncle was a modern Croesus, 
 and he, his sole heir." 
 
 " How know you this ? " I asked. 
 
 " Every one knows it. The rich are the cities on the lull- 
 tops, seen afar off. You hesitate, you tremble. Keep your 
 diamonds, but remember they will eat like burning coals into 
 your flesh." 
 
 Fierce and deadly passions gleamed from his eye. He 
 clenched the pistol so tight that his nails turned of a purplish 
 blue. 
 
 No one was near us, to witness a scene so strange and appall 
 ing. The thundering sounds of city life were rolling along the 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 279 
 
 great thoroughfare of the metropolis, now rattling, shrill, and 
 startling, then roaring, swelling, and subsiding again, like the 
 distant surf; but around u?, there was silence and space. In 
 the brief moment that we stood face to face, my mind was at 
 work with preternatural activity. I remembered that I had a 
 set of diamonds, the bridal gift of Mrs. Linwood, a superb 
 and costly set, which I had left a week previous in the hands of 
 the jeweller, that he might remedy a slight defect in the clasps. 
 Those which I wore at the theatre, and which had attracted his 
 insatiate eye, were the gift of Ernest. He had clasped them 
 around my neck and arms, as he was about to lead me to the 
 altar, and hallowed the offering with a bridegroom s kiss. I 
 could have given my heart s blood sooner than the radiant pledge 
 of wedded faith and love. 
 
 I could go to the jewellers, get possession of the diamonds, 
 and thus redeem my guilty parent from impending ruin. Then, 
 the waves of the Atlantic would roll between us, and I would 
 be spared the humiliation and agony of another scene like this. 
 I told him to follow me at a short distance ; that I would get the 
 jewels ; that he could receive them from me in the street in the 
 midst of the jostling crowd without observation. 
 
 " It is the last time," I cried, " the last time I ever act with 
 out my husband s knowledge. I have obeyed my mother, I 
 have fulfilled my duty, at the risk of all my soul holds dear. 
 And now, as you hope to meet hereafter her, who, if angels can 
 sorrow, still mourns over your transgressions, quit the dark 
 path you are now treading, and devote your future life to peni 
 tence and prayer. Oh ! by my mother s wrongs and woes, and 
 by my own, by the mighty power of God and a Saviour s 
 dying love, I entreat you to repent, forsake your sins, and live, 
 live, forever more." 
 
 Tears gushed from my eyes and checked my utterance. Oh ! 
 how sad, how dreadful, to address a father thus. 
 
 " Gabriella ! " he exclaimed, " you are an angel. Pray for me, 
 pray for me, thou pure and holy being, and forgive the sins that 
 you say are not beyond the reach of God s inercy, I dare not, 
 
280 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 not here, yet for one dear embrace, my child, I would wil 
 lingly meet the tortures of the prison-house and the scaffold." 
 
 I recoiled with horror at the suggestion. I would not have 
 had his arms around me for worlds. I could not call him 
 father.. I pitied, wept for him; but I shrunk with loathing 
 from his presence. Dropping my veil over my face, I turned 
 hastily, gained the street, pressed on through the moving mass 
 without looking to the right or left, till I reached the shop where 
 my jewels were deposited, took them without waiting for ex 
 planation or inquiry, hurried back till I met St. James, slipped 
 the casket into his eager hand, and pressed on without uttering 
 a syllable. Never shall I forget the expression of his counte 
 nance as he received the casket. The fierce, wild, exulting 
 flash of his dark sunken eye, whose reddish blackness seemed 
 suddenly to ignite and burn like heated iron. There was 
 something demoniac in its glare, and it haunted me in my 
 dreams long, long afterwards. 
 
 I did not look back, but hurried on, rejoicing that rapidity of 
 motion was too customary in Broadway to attract attention. Be 
 fore I arrived at the place of meeting, I wished to divest myself 
 of the shawl which I had used as a disguise; and it was no 
 difficult matter, where poverty is met in all its forms of wretch 
 edness and woe. 
 
 " Take this, my good woman," said I, throwing the soft gray 
 covering over the shoulders of a thin, shivering, haggard look 
 ing female, on whose face chill penury was written in wither 
 ing lines. You are cold and suffering/ 
 
 " Bless your sweet face. God Almighty bless you ! " was 
 wafted to my ears, in tremulous accents, for I did not stop to 
 meet her look of wonder, gratitude, and ecstasy. I did not de 
 serve her blessing ; but the garment sheltered her meagre frame, 
 and she went on her way rejoicing. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 WHEN I entered Mrs. Bralian s drawing-room, I was in a 
 kind of somnambulism, moving, walking, seeing, yet hardly 
 conscious of what I was doing, or what was passing around me. 
 She was the president of the association, and a very charming 
 woman. 
 
 " We feared we were not going to see you this morning," she 
 said, glancing at a French clock, which showed the lateness of 
 the hour ; " but we esteem it a privilege to have you with us, 
 even for a short time. We know," she added, with a smile, 
 " what a sacrifice we impose on Mr. Linwood, when we deprive 
 him of your society." 
 
 " Yes ! " cried a sprightly young lady, with whom I was 
 slightly acquainted, " we all consider it an event, when we can 
 catch a glimpse of Mrs. Linwood. Her appearance at the thea 
 tre last night created as great a sensation as would a new con 
 stellation in the zodiac." 
 
 These allusions to my husband s exclusive devotion brought 
 the coloV to my cheeks, and the soft, warm air of the room 
 stole soothingly round me. I tried to rouse myself to a con 
 sciousness of the present, and apologized for my delay with 
 more ease and composure than I expected. 
 
 When the treasurer received the usual funds, I was obliged to 
 throw myself on her leniency. 
 
 " I have disposed of my purse since I left home," said I, 
 with a guilty blush, " but I will double my contribution at the 
 next meeting." 
 
 " It is no matter," was the reply. " You have already met 
 your responsibilities, far more than met them, your repu* 
 
 24* (281) 
 
282 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 tation for benevolence is already too well established for us to 
 doubt that your will is equal to your power." 
 
 Whenever I went into society, I realized the distinction of 
 being the wife of the rich and exclusive Ernest Lin wood, the 
 mistress of the oriental palace, as Mrs. B rah an called our dwell 
 ing-place. I always found myself flattered and caressed, and 
 perhaps something was owing to personal attraction. I never 
 presumed on the distinction awarded me ; never made myself or 
 mine the subjects of conversation, or sought to engross the atten 
 tion of others. I had always remembered the obscurity of my 
 early life, the cloud upon my birth, not abjectly, but proudly. I 
 was too proud to arrogate to myself any credit for the adven 
 titious circumstances which had raised me above the level of 
 others, too proud of the love that had given the elevation, 
 to exalt myself as worthy of it. 
 
 " I think you must be the happiest being in the world, Mrs. 
 Linwood," said the sprightly young lady, who had taken a seat 
 by my side, and who had the brightest, most sparkling counte 
 nance I ever saw. " You live in such a beautiful, beautiful 
 place, with such an elegant husband, too ! What a life of en 
 chantment yours must be ! Do you know you are the envy of 
 all the young ladies of the city ? " 
 
 " I hope not," I answered, trying to respond in the same 
 sportive strain ; and every one knows, that when the heart is 
 oppressed by secret anxiety, it is easier to be gay than cheer 
 ful. " I hope not ; as I might be in danger of being exhaled by 
 some subtle perfume. I have heard of the art of poisoning 
 being brought to such perfection, that it can be communicated 
 by a flower or a ring." 
 
 "It must be a very fascinating study," she said, laughingly. 
 " I intend to take lessons, though I think throwing vitriol in the 
 face and marring its beauty, is the most effectual way of remov 
 ing a rival." 
 
 " I thought you were discussing the wants and miseries of the 
 sewing sisterhood," said Mrs. Brahan, coming near us. " What 
 started so horrible a theme ? " 
 
 " Mr, Linwood s perfections," said the young lady, with a gay 
 smile. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 283 
 
 " He has one great fault," observed Mrs. Brahan ; " he keeps 
 you too close a prisoner, my dear. I fear he is very selfish. 
 Tell him so from me ; for he must not expect to monopolize a 
 jewel formed to adorn and beautify the world." 
 
 She spoke sportively, benignantly, without knowing the 
 deep truth of her words. She knew that my husband sought 
 retirement ; that I seldom went abroad without him. But she 
 knew not, dreamed not, of the strength of the master-passion 
 that governed his actions. 
 
 Gradually the company dispersed. As I came so late, I re 
 mained a little behind the rest, attracted by a painting in the 
 back parlor. I suppose I inherited from my father a love of 
 the fine arts ; for I never could pass a statue or a picture with 
 out pausing to gaze upon it. 
 
 This represented a rocky battlement, rising in the midst of 
 the deep blue sea. The silvery glimmer of moonlight shone on 
 the rippling waves ; moonlight breaking through dark clouds, 
 producing the most dazzling contrast of light and shade. A 
 large vessel, in full sail, glided along in the gloom of the shad 
 ows ; a little skiff floated on the white-crested, sparkling, shining 
 tide. The flag of our country waved from the rocky tower. I 
 seemed gazing on a familiar scene. Those wave washed battle 
 ments ; that floating banner ; the figures of soldiers marching 
 on the ramparts, with folded arms and measured tread, all 
 appeared like the embodiment of a dream. 
 
 " What does this represent ? " I asked. 
 
 " Fortress Monroe, on Chesapeake Bay." 
 
 " I thought so. Who was the artist ? " 
 
 " I think his name was St. James. It is on the picture, near 
 the frame. Yes, Henry Gabriel St. James. What a beau 
 tiful name ! Poor fellow ! I believe he had a sad fate ! Mr. 
 Brahan could tell you something of his history. He purchased 
 this house of him seventeen years ago. What is the matter, 
 Mrs. Linwood ? " 
 
 I sank on the nearest seat, incapable of supporting myself. 
 I was in the house where I was born, where my mother 
 passed the brief period of her wedded happiness ; whence she 
 
284 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 was driven, a wronged, despairing woman, with me, an uncon 
 scious infant, in her arms. It was my father s glowing sketch 
 on which I was gazing, that father whom I had so recently 
 met, a criminal, evading the demands of justice ; a man who 
 had lost all his original brightness, a being of sin and misery. 
 
 Mrs. Brahan rang for water ; but I did not faint. 
 
 " I have taken a long walk this morning," I said, " and your 
 rooms are warm. I feel better, now. And this house belonged 
 to the artist ? I feel interested in his story." 
 
 " I wish Mr. Brahan were here ; but I will tell you all I 
 recollect. It was a long time ago ; and what we hear from others 
 of individuals in whom we have no personal interest, is soon 
 forgotten. Do you really feel better ? Well, I believe St. 
 James, the artist, was a highly accomplished, gifted man. He 
 was married to a beautiful young wife, and I think had one 
 child. Of course he was supremely happy. It seems he was 
 called away from home very suddenly, was gone a few months, 
 and when he returned, he found his wife and child fled, and 
 a stranger claiming her name and place. I never heard this 
 mystery explained ; but it is said, she disappeared as suddenly 
 as she came, while he sought by every means to recover his lost 
 treasure, but in vain. His reason at one time forsook him, 
 and his health declined. At length, unable to remain where 
 every thing reminded him of his departed happiness, he resolved 
 to leave the country and go to foreign climes. Mr. Brahan, 
 who wished to purchase at that time, was pleased with the 
 house, bought it, and brought me here, a bride. He has 
 altered and improved it a great deal, but many things remain 
 just as they were. You seem interested. There is something 
 mysterious and romantic connected with it. Oh ! here is Mr. 
 Brahan himself; he can relate it far better than I can." 
 
 After the usual courtesies of meeting, she resumed the sub 
 ject, and told her husband how much interested I was in the 
 history of the unfortunate artist. 
 
 " Ah yes ! " cried he ; " poor fellow ! he was sore beset. 
 Two women claimed him as wives, and he lost both. I never 
 heard a clear account of this part of his life ; for when I knew 
 
E R X E S T L I X W O O D . 285 
 
 him, lie was just emerging from insanity, and it was supposed 
 liis mind was still clouded. He was very reserved on the sub 
 ject of his personal misfortunes. I only know it was the loss 
 of the wife whom he acknowledged that unsettled his reason. 
 He was a magnificent looking fellow, full of genius and feeling. 
 He told me he was going to Italy, and very likely he died of 
 a broken heart, beneath its sunny and genial skies. He was a 
 fine artist. That picture has inspiration in it. Look at the re 
 flection of the moon in the water. How tremulous it is ! You 
 can almost see the silver rippling beneath that gliding boat. He 
 was a man of genius. There is no doubt he was." 
 
 " I should like to show Mrs. Linwood the picture which you 
 found in the closet of his studio," said Mrs. Brahan. " Do you 
 know, I think there is a resemblance to herself? " 
 
 " So there is," exclaimed Mr. Brahan, as if making a sudden 
 discovery. " Her face has haunted me since I first beheld her, 
 and I have just discovered where I have seen its semblance. If 
 you will walk up stairs, I will show it to you." 
 
 Almost mechanically I followed up the winding stairs, so 
 often pressed by the feet now mouldering side by side beneath 
 the dark coffin lid, into the room where my now degraded par 
 ent gave form and coloring to the dreams of imagination, or the 
 shadows of memory. The walls were arching, and lighted from 
 above. Mr Brahan had converted it into a library, and it was 
 literally lined with books on every side but one. Suspended on 
 that, in a massy gilt frame, was a sketch which arrested my gaze, 
 and it had no power to wander. The head alone was finished, 
 but such a head ! I recognized at once my mother s features ; 
 not as I had seen them faded by sorrow, but in the soft radiance 
 of love and happiness. They did not wear the rosy brightness 
 of the miniature I had seen in my father s hand, which was 
 probably taken immediately after her marriage. This picture 
 represented her as my imagination pictured her after my birth, 
 when the tender anxieties of the mother softened and subdued 
 the splendor of her girlish beauty ; those eyes, those unfor- 
 gotten eyes, with their long, curling lashes, and expression of 
 heavenly sweetness, how they seemed to bend on me, the 
 
286 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 child she had so much loved ! I longed to kneel before it, to 
 appeal to it, by every holy and endearing epithet, to reach 
 the cold, unconscious canvas, and cover it with my kisses and my 
 tears. But I could only gaze and gaze, and the strong spell 
 that bound me was mistaken for the ecstasy of admiration, such 
 as genius only can awaken. 
 
 " There is a wonderful resemblance," said Mr. Brahan, 
 breaking the silence. " I shall feel great pride henceforth in 
 saying, I have an admirable likeness of Mrs. Linwood." 
 
 " I ought to feel greatly flattered," I answered with a quick 
 drawn breath ; " it certainly is very lovely." 
 
 " It has the loveliest expression I ever saw in woman s coun 
 tenance," observed Mr. Brahan. " Perhaps, after making such 
 a remark, I ought not to say, that in that chiefly lies its resem 
 blance to yourself, but it is emphatically so." 
 
 " She must be too much accustomed to compliments to mind 
 yours, my dear," said Mrs. Brahan. " I think Mrs. Linwood 
 has the advantage of the picture, for she has the bloom and 
 light of life. No painting can supply these." 
 
 " There is something in the perfect repose of a picture," said 
 I, withdrawing my eyes from my mother s seraphic countenance ; 
 " something in its serene, unchanging beauty, that is a type of 
 immortality, of the divine rest of the soul. Life is restless, 
 and grows tremulous as we gaze." 
 
 " O that that picture were mine ! " I unconsciously uttered, 
 as I turned to take a last look on leaving the apartment. 
 
 " I do not know that it is mine to give," said Mr. Brahan, 
 " as I found it here after purchasing the house. The one below 
 was presented me by St. James himself. If, however, you will 
 allow me to send it to Mr. Linwood, I really think he has the 
 best right to it, on account of its remarkable resemblance to 
 yourself." 
 
 " Oh no, indeed," I exclaimed ; " I did not mean, did not 
 think of such a tiling. It was a childish way of expressing 
 my admiration of the painting. If you will give me the priv 
 ilege of sometimes calling to look at it, I shall be greatly in 
 debted." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 287 
 
 I hurried down stairs, fearful of committing myself in some 
 way, so as to betray the secret of my birth. 
 
 " I wish you would come and see us often, Mrs. Linwood," 
 said Mrs. Brahan, as I bade her adieu. " We are not very 
 fashionable ; but if I read your character aright, you will not 
 dislike us on that account. A young person, who is almost a 
 stranger in a great city like this, sometimes feels the want of an 
 older friend. Let me be that friend." 
 
 " Thank you, dear madam," I answered, returning the cordial 
 pressure of her hand ; " you do not know how deeply I appre 
 ciate your proffered friendship, or how happy I shall be to cul 
 tivate it." 
 
 With many kind and polite expressions, they both accompa 
 nied me to the door, and I left them with the conviction that 
 wedded happiness might be perfect after the experience of 
 seventeen years. 
 
 When alone in the carriage, I tried to compose my agitated 
 and excited mind. So much had been crowded into the space 
 of a few hours, that it seemed as if days must have passed since 
 I left home. I tried to reconcile what I had heard with what 
 I had seen of my father; but I \could not identify the magnifi 
 cent artist, the man of genius and of feeling, with the degener 
 ate being from whom I had recoiled one hour ago. Could a 
 long career of guilt and shame thus deface and obliterate that 
 divine and godlike image, in which man was formed ? He 
 must have loved my mother. Desperation for her loss had 
 plunged him into the wildest excesses of dissipation. From my 
 soul I pitied him. I would never cease to pray for him, never 
 regret what I had done to save him from ruin, even if my own 
 happiness were wrecked by the act. I had tried to do what was 
 right, and God, who seeth the heart, would forgive me, if wrong 
 was the result. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 LETTERS from Mrs. Lin wood and Edith waited me at home, 
 Their perusal gave me an opportunity to collect my thoughts, 
 and an excuse to talk of them, of Grandison Place, rather than 
 of topics connected with the present. Yet all the time I was 
 reading Mrs. Linwood s expression of trusting affection, I said 
 to myself, 
 
 " What would she say, if she knew I had parted with her 
 splendid gift, unknown to my husband, whose happiness she 
 committed so solemnly to my keeping ? " 
 
 I told Ernest of the interesting circumstances connected with 
 Mr. Brahan s house, and of the picture of my mother I so 
 longed that I should see. The wish was gratified sooner than 
 I anticipated ; for that very evening, it was sent to me by Mr. 
 Brahan, with a very elegant note, in which he asked me to take 
 charge of it till the rightful owner appeared to claim it as his 
 own. 
 
 " It is like you, Gabriella," said Ernest, gazing with evident 
 admiration on the beauteous semblance ; " and it is an exquisite 
 painting too. You must cherish this picture as a proof of your 
 mother s beauty and your father s genius." 
 
 I did cherish it, as a household divinity. I almost worship 
 ped it, for though I did not burn before it frankincense and 
 myrrh, I offered to it the daily incense of memory and love. 
 
 As Margaret consented to remain a week with her friend 
 Miss Haven, we were left in quiet possession of our elegant 
 leisure, and Ernest openly rejoiced in her absence. He read 
 aloud to me, played and sung with thrilling melody, and drew 
 out all his powers of fascination for my entertainment. 
 
 (288) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 289 
 
 fear of his discovering my clandestine meeting grew fainter and 
 fainter as day aftor day passed, without a circumstance arising 
 which would lead to detection. 
 
 One evening, Mr. Harland, with several other gentlemen, was 
 with us. Ernest was unusually affable, and of course my 
 spirits rose in proportion. In the course of conversation, Mr. 
 Harland remarked that he had a bet for me to decide. 
 
 " I cannot consent to be an umpire," said I. " I dislike bet 
 ting in ladies, and if gentlemen indulge in it, they must refer to 
 their own sex, not ours." 
 
 " But it has reference to yourself," he cried, " and you alone 
 can decide." 
 
 To me ! " I exclaimed, involuntarily glancing at Ernest. 
 
 " Yes ! A friend of mine insists that he saw you walking in 
 
 the Park, the other morning, with a gentleman, who was 
 
 too tall for Mr. Linwood. That you wore a gray shawl and 
 green veil, but that your air and figure could not possibly be mis 
 taken. I told him, in the first place, that you never dressed in 
 that style ; in the second, that he was too far from you to dis 
 tinguish you from another ; and in the third, that it was impos 
 sible you should be seen walking with any gentleman but your 
 husband, as he never gave them an opportunity. As he offered 
 a high wager, and I accepted it, I feel no small interest in the 
 decision." 
 
 " Tell your friend, Mr. Harland," exclaimed Ernest, rising 
 from his seat, and turning pale as marble, " that I will not 
 permit my wife s name to be bandied from lip to lip in the 
 public street, nor her movements made a subject for low and 
 vulgar betting." 
 
 " Mr. Linwood ! " cried Mr. Harland, rising too, with anger 
 flashing from his eyes, " do you apply those remarks to me ? " 
 
 " I make no application," answered Ernest, with inexpressible 
 haughtiness ; " but I again assert, that the freedom taken with 
 my wife s name is unwarrantable, and shall not be repeated." 
 
 " If Mrs. Linwood considers herself insulted," cried Mr. 
 Harlard, " I am ready to offer her any apology she may desire. 
 Of one thing she may be assured : no disrespect was intended 
 
 25 
 
290 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 by the gentleman to whom I allude, and t?he certainly cannot 
 think that I would forget her claims as a lady, and as the wife 
 of the man whom I had reason to believe my friend." 
 
 He spoke the last sentence with strong emphasis, and the 
 blood mounted high in the pale face of Ernest. I could only 
 bow, as Mr. Harland concluded, in acceptance of the apology, 
 for I saw a thundercloud darkening over me, and knew it would 
 break in terror over my head. 
 
 " I have spoken hastily, Mr. Harland," said Ernest. " If I 
 have said any thing wounding to your feelings, as a gentleman, I 
 recall it. But you may tell your friend, that the next time he 
 asserts that he has seen Mrs. Linwood walking with a stranger, 
 in a public place, when I know she was in company with some 
 of the first ladies of the city for benevolent designs, I shall call 
 him to account for such gross misrepresentations." 
 
 And I heard this in silence, without contradiction. 
 
 Oh ! how must the woman feel who has deceived her hus 
 band for a guilty purpose, when I, whose motives were pure 
 and upright, suffered such unutterable anguish in the prospect 
 of detection ? If I were hardened enough to deny the asser 
 tion, if I could only have laughed and wondered at the prepos 
 terous mistake, if I could have assumed an air of indiffer 
 ence and composure, my secret might have been safe. But I 
 was a novice in deception ; and burning blushes, and pale, cold 
 shadows alternately flitted across my face. 
 
 It was impossible to resume the conversation interrupted by 
 a scene so distressing to some, so disagreeable to all. One by 
 one our guests retired, and I was left alone with Ernest. 
 
 The chandeliers were glittering overhead, the azure cur 
 tains received their light in every sweeping fold, cherubs 
 smiled bewitchingly from the arching ceiling, and roses that 
 looked as if they might have blossomed by "Bendemere s 
 stream," blushed beneath my feet, yet I would gladly have 
 exchanged all this splendor for a spot in the furthest isle of the 
 ocean, a lone and barren spot, where the dark glance which I 
 felt, but did not see, could not penetrate. 
 
 I sat with downcast eyes and wildly throbbing heart, trying 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 291 
 
 to summon resolution to meet the trial I saw there was no 
 means of escaping. If lie questioned, I must answer. I could 
 not, dared not, utter a falsehood, and evasion would be considered 
 equivalent to iU 
 
 He walked back and forth the whole length of the parlor, 
 two or three times, without speaking, then stopped directly in 
 front of me, still silent. Unable to bear the intolerable oppres 
 sion of my feelings, I started up and attempted to leave the 
 room; but he arrested me by the arm, and his waxen fingers 
 seemed hardened to steel. 
 
 " Gabriella ! " 
 
 His voice sounded so distant, so cold ! 
 
 " Ernest ! " 
 
 I raised my eyes, and for a moment we looked each other 
 in the face. There was fascination in his glance, and yet it 
 had the dagger s keenness. 
 
 " What is the meaning of what I have just heard ? "What is 
 the meaning of a report, which I should have regarded as the 
 idle wind, did not your overwhelming confusion establish its 
 truth ? Tell me, for I am not a man to be tampered with, as 
 you will find to your cost." 
 
 " I cannot answer when addressed in such a tone. Oh, I can 
 not." 
 
 " Gabriella ! this is not a moment to trifle. Tell me, without 
 prevarication, were you, or were you not in the Park, walking 
 with a gentleman, on the morning you left for Mrs. Brahan s ? 
 Answer me, yes, or no." 
 
 Had he spoken with gentleness, had he seemed moved to 
 sorrow as well as indignation, I would have thrown myself at 
 his feet, and deprecated his anger ; but my spirit rose in 
 rebellion at the stern despotism of his manner, and nerved it 
 self to resist his coercive will. 
 
 Truly is it said, " We know not what manner of spirit we are 
 of." 
 
 I little thought how high mine could rebound from the 
 strong pressure which, in anticipation, crushed it to the dust. 
 
 I felt firm to endure, strong to resist. 
 
292 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " Ernest ! 1 have done you no wrong," I answered, raising 
 my eyes to his pale, dark countenance. " I have done nothing 
 to merit the displeasure which makes you forget the courtesy 
 of a gentleman, as well as the tenderness of a husband." 
 
 " Then it was a false report," he exclaimed, a ray of light 
 flashing from his clouded eyes, " you could not look me in 
 the face and speak in that tone unless you were innocent ! 
 Why did you not deny it at once ? " 
 
 " Only listen to me, Ernest," I cried ; " only give me a pa 
 tient, gentle hearing, and I will give you a history, which I am 
 certain will convert your indignation into sympathy, and free 
 me from suspicion or blame." 
 
 I armed myself with resolution to tell him all. My father 
 was in all probability far away on the billows of the Atlantic. 
 My disclosures could not affect him now. My promise of 
 secrecy did not extend into the future. I would gladly have 
 withheld from my husband the knowledge of his degradation, 
 for it was humiliating to the child to reveal the. parent s shame. 
 Criminal he knew him to be, with regard to my mother, but 
 Ernest had said, when gazing on her picture, he almost forgave 
 the crime which had so much to extenuate it. The gambler, 
 the profligate, the lost, abandoned being, who had thrown 
 himself so abjectly on my compassion : in these characters, the 
 high-minded Ernest would spurn him with withering indigna 
 tion. Yet as the interview had been observed, and his suspi 
 cions excited, it was my duty to make an unreserved confes 
 sion, and I did. Conscious of the purity of my motives, 
 and assured that he must eventually acquit me of blame, I told 
 him all, from the note he dropped into my lap at the theatre, to 
 the diamond casket given in parting to his desperate hand. I 
 told him all my struggles, my fears, my agonies, dwelling 
 most of all on the agony I suffered in being compelled to de 
 ceive him. 
 
 Silently, immovably he heard me, never interrupting me by 
 question or explanation. He had seated himself on a sofa 
 when I began, motioning me to sit clown by him, but I drew 
 forward a low footstool and sat at his feet, looking up with the 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 293 
 
 earnestness of truth and the confidence of innocence. Oh ! he 
 could not help but acquit me, he could not help but pity me. 
 I had done him injustice in believing it possible for him to con 
 demn me for an act of filial obedience, involving so much self- 
 sacrifice and anguish. He would clasp me to his bosom, he 
 would fold me in his arms, he would call me his " own, dar 
 ling Gabriella." 
 
 A pause, a chilling pause succeeded the deep-drawn breath 
 with which I closed the confession. Cold, bitter cold, fell that 
 silence on my hoping, trembling, yet glowing heart. He was 
 leaning on his elbow, his hand covered his brow. 
 
 " Ernest," at length I said, " you have heard my explanation. 
 Am I, or am I not, acquitted ? " 
 
 He started as if from a trance, clasped his hands tightly to 
 gether, and lifted them above his head, then springing up, 
 he drew back from me, as if I were a viper coiling at his feet. 
 
 " Your father ! " he exclaimed with withering scorn. " Your 
 father ! The tale is marvellously conceived and admirably 
 related. Do you expect me to believe that that bold libertine, 
 who made you the object of his unrepressed admiration, was 
 your father ? Why, that man was not old enough to be your 
 father, and if ever profligacy was written on a human coun 
 tenance, its damning lines were traced on his. Your father ! 
 Away with a subterfuge so vile and flimsy, a falsehood so wan 
 ton and sacrilegious." 
 
 Should I live a thousand years, I never could forget the awful 
 shock of that moment, the whirlwind of passion that raged in 
 my bosom. To be accused of falsehood, and such a falsehood, 
 by Ernest, after my truthful, impassioned revelation ; it was 
 what I could not, would not bear. My heart seemed a boiling 
 cauldron, whence the hot blood rushed in burning streams to 
 face, neck, and hands. My eyes flashed, ipy lips quivered with 
 indignation. 
 
 " Is it I, your wife, whom you accuse of falsehood ? " I ex 
 claimed ; " dare you repeat an accusation so vile ? " 
 
 " Did you not act a falsehood, when you so grossly deceived 
 me, by pretending to go on an errand of benevolence, when 
 
 25* 
 
294 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 in reality you were bound to a disgraceful assignation ? What 
 veteran intriguante ever arranged any thing more coolly, more 
 deliberately ? Even if the story of that man s being your father 
 were not false, what trust could I ever repose in one so skilled 
 in deception, so artful, and so perfidious ? " 
 
 " Ernest, you will rue what you say now, to your dying day ; 
 you will rue it at the judgment bar of heaven ; you are doing 
 me the cruellest wrong man ever inflicted on woman." 
 
 The burning current in my veins was cooling, a chill, be 
 numbing sense of injustice and injury was settling on every feel 
 ing. I looked in his face, and its classic beauty vanished, even 
 its lineaments seemed changed, the illusion of love was passing 
 away ; with indescribable horror I felt this ; it was like the opening 
 of a deep, dark abyss. Take away my love for Ernest, and what 
 would be left of life ? Darkness despair annihilation. I 
 thought not, recked not then of his lost love for me ; I only 
 dreaded ceasing to love him, dreaded that congelation of the 
 heart more terrible than death. 
 
 " Where is the note ? " he asked suddenly. " Show me the 
 warrant for this secret meeting." 
 
 " I destroyed it," 
 
 Again a thunder-gust swept over his countenance. I ought 
 to have kept it, I ought to have anticipated a moment like this, 
 but my judgment was obscure by fear. 
 
 " You destroyed it ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and well might I dread a disclosure which has brought 
 on a scene so humbling to us both. Let it not continue ; you 
 have heard from me nothing but plain and holy truth ; I have 
 nothing to say in my defence. Had I acted differently, you 
 yourself would despise and contemn me." 
 
 " Had you come to me as you ought to have done, asking my 
 counsel and assistance, I would have met the wretch who sought 
 to beguile you ; I would have detected the imposter, if you indeed 
 believed the tale ; I would have saved you from the shame of a 
 public exposure, and myself the misery, the tortures of this 
 hour." 
 
 " Did he not threaten your life and his own ? Did he not 
 
E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 295 
 
 appeal to me in the most solemn and awful manner not to be 
 tray him ? " 
 
 " You might have known the man who urged you to deceive 
 your husband to be a villain." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! I know him to be a villain ; and yet he is my 
 father." 
 
 " He is not your father ! I know he is not. I would swear 
 it before a court of justice. I would swear it before the chan 
 cery of the skies ! " 
 
 " Would to heaven that your words were true. Would to 
 heaven my being were not derived from such a polluted source. 
 But I know too well that he is my father ; and that he has en 
 tailed on me everlasting sorrow. You admit, that if he is an 
 impostor, I was myself deceived. You recall your fearful accu 
 sation." 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed, clasping his hands, and looking 
 wildly upwards, " I know not what to believe. I would give 
 worlds, were they mine, for the sweet confidence forever lost ! 
 The cloud was passing away from my soul. Sunshine, hope, 
 love, joy, were there. I was wrapped in the dreams of Elysium ! 
 Why have you so cruelly awakened me ? If you had deceived 
 me once, why not go on ; deny the accusation ; fool, dupe me, 
 do any thing but convince me that where I have so blindly 
 worshipped, I have been so treacherously betrayed." 
 
 I pitied him, from the bottom of my soul I pitied him, 
 his countenance expressed such exceeding bitter anguish. I 
 saw that passion obscured his reason ; that while under its do 
 minion he was incapable of perceiving the truth. I remem 
 bered the warning accents of his mother : " You have no right 
 to complain." I remembered her Christian injunction, " to en 
 dure all ; " and my own promise, with God s help, to do it. All 
 at once, it seemed as if my guardian angel stood before me, with 
 a countenance of celestial sweetness shaded by sorrow ; and I 
 trembled as I gazed. I had bowed my shoulder to the cross ; 
 but as soon as the burden galled and oppressed me, I had 
 hurled it from me, exclaiming, " it was greater than I could 
 bear." I had deceived, though not betrayed him. I had put 
 
296 EKNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 myself in the power of a villain, and exposed myself to the 
 tongue of slander. I had expected, dreaded his anger ; and 
 was it not partly just ? 
 
 As these thoughts darted through my mind with the swift 
 ness and power of lightning, love returned in all its living 
 warmth, and anguish in proportion to the wound it had received. 
 I was borne down irresistibly by the weight of my emotions. 
 My knees bent under me. I bowed my face on the sofa ; and 
 tears, hot and fast as tropic rain, gushed from my eyes. I wept 
 for him even more than myself, wept for the " dark-spotted 
 flower " twined with the roses of love. 
 
 I heard him walking the room with troubled steps ; and 
 every step sounded as mournful to me as the earth-fall on the 
 coffin-lid. Their echo was scarcely audible on the soft, yielding 
 carpet ; yet they seemed loud and heavy to my excited ear. 
 Then I heard him approach the sofa, and stop, close to the spot 
 where I knelt. My heart almost ceased beating ; when he 
 suddenly knelt at my side, and put his arms around me. 
 
 " Gabriella ! " said he, " if I have done you wrong, may God 
 forgive me ; but I never can forgive myself." 
 
 Accents of love issuing from the grave could hardly have 
 been more thrilling or unexpected. I turned, and leaning my 
 head on his shoulder, I felt myself drawn closer and closer to 
 the heart from which I believed myself for ever estranged. I 
 entreated his forgiveness for having deceived him. I told him, 
 for I believed it then, that the purity of the motive did not jus 
 tify the act ; and I promised in the most solemn manner never 
 again, under any circumstances, to bind myself to do any thing 
 unknown to him, or even to act spontaneously without his 
 knowledge. In the rapture of reconciliation, I was willing to 
 give any pledge as a security for love, without realizing that 
 jealousy was a Shylock, exacting the fulfilment of the bond, 
 the pound of flesh " nearest the heart." Yea, more exacting 
 still, for he paused, when forbidden to spill the red life-drops, 
 and dropped the murderous knife. 
 
 And Ernest, with what deep self-abasement he acknowl 
 edged the errors into which blind passion had led him. With 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 297 
 
 what anguish he reflected on the disgraceful charge he had 
 brought against me. Yea ; even with tears, he owned his injus 
 tice and madness, and begged me to forget and forgive. 
 
 " What have I done ? " he cried, when, after our passionate 
 emotions having subsided, we sat hand in hand, still pale and 
 trembling, but subdued and grateful, like two mariners escaped 
 from wreck, watching the billows roaring back from the shore. 
 " What have I done, that this curse should be entailed upon me ? 
 In these paroxysms of madness, I am no more master of myv 
 self than the maniac who hurls his desperate hand in the face 
 of Omnipotence. Reason has no power, love no influence. 
 Dark clouds rush across my mind, shutting out the light of 
 truth. My heart freezes, as in a wintry storm. O, Gabriella ! 
 you can have no conception of what I suffer, while I writhe in 
 the tempter s grasp. It is said God never allows man to be 
 tempted beyond his powers of resistance. I dare not question 
 the word of the Most High, but in the hour of temptation I 
 feel like an infant contending with the Philistine giant. But, 
 oh ! the joy, the rapture when the paroxysm is past, when 
 light dawns on the darkness, when warmth comes meltingly over 
 the ice and snow, when reason resumes its sway, and love its em 
 pire, oh! my beloved! it is life renewed it is a resur 
 rection from the dead, it is Paradise regained in the heart." 
 
 Those who have floated along on a smooth, tranquil tide, 
 clear of the breakers and whirlpools and rocks, or whose bark 
 has lain on stagnant waters, on which a green and murky shade 
 is beginning to gather, with no breeze to fan them or to curl the 
 dull and lifeless pool, will accuse me of exaggeration, and say 
 such scenes never occurred in the actual experience of wedded 
 life ; that I am writing a romance, instead of a reality. 
 
 I answer them, that I am drawing the sketch as faithfully as 
 the artist, who transfers the living form to the canvas ; that as 
 it is scarcely possible to exaggerate the dying agonies of the 
 malefactor transfixed by the dagger, and writhing in protracted 
 tortures, that the painter may immortalize himself by the death- 
 throes on which he is gazing ; so the agonies of him, 
 " Who doubts, yet dotes, suspects, yet fondly loves," 
 
298 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 cannot be described in colors too deep and strong. Prometheus 
 bound to the rock, with the beak of the vulture in his bleeding 
 breast, suffering daily renewing pangs, his wounds healed only 
 to be torn open afresh, is an emblem of the victim of that 
 vulture passion, which the word of God declares to be cruel and 
 insatiable as the grave. 
 
 No ; my pen is too weak to describe either the terrors of the 
 storm or the halcyon peace, the heavenly joy that succeeded. I 
 yielded to the exquisite bliss of reconciliation, without daring to 
 give one glance to the future. I had chosen my destiny. I had 
 said, " Let me be loved, I ask no more ! " 
 
 I was loved, .even to the madness of idolatry. My prayer 
 was granted. Then let me " lay my hand upon my mouth, and 
 my mouth in the dust." I had rather be the stormy petrel, 
 whose wings dip into ocean s foaming brine, than the swallow 
 nestling under the barn-eaves of the farmer, or in the chimney 
 of the country homestead, 
 
 " Better to stand the lightning s shock, 
 Than moulder piecemeal on the rock." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 IT was fortunate for me that Margaret was absent during 
 this exciting scene. When she returned, she was too much oc 
 cupied with relating the pleasures she had enjoyed to think of 
 what might have occurred in her absence. 
 
 " I am dying with impatience," she cried, " perfectly consuming 
 with curiosity. Here is a letter from my mother, in which she 
 says a gentleman, a particular friend of mine, is coming to the 
 city, and that she has requested him to take charge of me back 
 to Boston. She does not mention his name, and I have not the 
 most remote idea who he is. She says she is very happy 
 that her wild girl should be escorted by a person of so much 
 dignity and worth. Dignity ! I expect he is one of the ex- 
 presidents or wise statesmen, whom Mrs. Linwood has recom 
 mended to my patronage. I have a great admiration for great 
 men, large, tall men, men whose heads you can distinguish in 
 a crowd and see in a distant procession. They look as if 
 they could protect one in the day of trouble." 
 
 " Do you ever think of such a day, Margaret ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I do. I think more than you give me credit for. 
 I can think more in one minute than you slow folks can in a 
 week. Who can this be ? I remember a description I admire 
 very much. It is in some old poem of Scott s, I believe, 
 
 4 Bold, firm, and high, his stature tall/ 
 
 did something, looked like something, I have forgotten what. I 
 know it was something grand, however." 
 
 " You must be thinking of Mr. Regulus," said I, laughing, 
 as memory brought before me some of his inimitable quackeries. 
 " He is the tallest gentleman I have ever seen, and though 
 
 (299) 
 
300 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 not very graceful, has a very imposing figure, especially in a 
 crowd." 
 
 " I think Mr. Regulus one of the finest looking men I ever 
 saw," cried Madge. " He has a head very much like Web 
 ster s, and his eyebrows are exactly like his. If he were in a 
 conspicuous station, every one would be raving about his moun 
 tainous head and cavernous eyes and majestic figure. lie is 
 worth a dozen of some people, who shall be nameless. I have 
 no doubt he will be president of the United States, one of these 
 days." 
 
 " I never heard you make so sensible a remark, Marga 
 ret. I thought you were amusing yourself with my re 
 spected teacher. I am glad you appreciate his uncommon 
 merits." 
 
 Madge laughed very loud, but she actually blushed. The 
 first symptom of womanhood I had ever seen her exhibit ! It 
 was a strange phenomenon, and I marvelled what it could mean. 
 
 To my unutterable astonishment and delight, a few evenings 
 after, my quondam preceptor was ushered into the parlor ; and 
 strangely looked his tall, large figure in the midst of the orien 
 tal lightness and splendor through which it moved. After 
 greeting me with the most heartfelt feeling, and Madge with a 
 half shy, half dignified manner, he gazed around him with the 
 simplicity and wondering admiration of a child. He was prob 
 ably comparing the beautiful drapery, that seemed like the 
 azure robe of night with its stars of glory gleaming through, 
 with the plain green curtains that shaded the windows of the 
 academy, the graceful and luxurious divan with the high-backed 
 chair which was my village throne. 
 
 " Beautiful, charming ! " he exclaimed, rubbing his hands 
 slowly and gently. " You remind me of the queen of a fairy 
 palace. I shall not dare to call you my child or little girl again. 
 Scherezade or Fatima will seem more appropriate." 
 
 " Oh no, Mr. Regulus ! I had rather hear you call me child, 
 than any thing else in the world. It carries me back to the 
 dear old academy, the village green, the elm trees shade, and 
 all the sweet memories of youth." 
 
ERNEST UN WOOD. 301 
 
 " One would think you had a long backward journey to take, 
 from the saddened heights of experience," said Ernest ; and 
 there was that indescribable something in his voice and counte 
 nance, which I had learned too well to interpret, that told me 
 he was not pleased with my remark. He did not want me to 
 have a memory further back than my first meeting with him, 
 a hope with which he was not intertwined. 
 
 " You may call me child, Mr. Regulus, as much as you 
 please," cried Madge, her eyes sparkling with unusual brillian 
 cy. " I wish I were a little school-girl again, privileged to romp 
 as much as I pleased. When I did any thing wrong then, it 
 was always passed over. Oh ! she s but a child, she will 
 get sobered when she is grown. Now if I laugh a little louder 
 and longer than other people, they stare and lift up their eyes, 
 and I have no doubt pray for me as a castaway from grace and 
 favor." 
 
 " Margaret ! " said I, reproachfully. 
 
 " There ! exactly as I described. Every sportive word I 
 utter, it is Margaret, or Madge, or Meg, in such a grave, rebuk 
 ing tone ! " 
 
 " Perhaps it is only when you jest on serious subjects, that 
 you meet a kindly check," observed Mr. Regulus, with grave 
 simplicity ; " there are so many legitimate themes of mirth, so 
 many light frameworks, round which the flowers of wit and 
 fancy can twine, it is better to leave the majestic temple of re 
 ligion, untouched by the hand of levity." 
 
 " I did not intend to speak profanely," said Margaret, hastily, 
 and the color visibly deepened on her cheek ; " neither did I 
 know that you were a religious character, Mr. Regulus. I 
 thought you were a very good sort of man, and all that ; but 
 I did not think you had so much of the minister about you." 
 
 " It is a great pity, Miss Margaret, that interest in religion 
 should be considered a minister s exclusive privilege. But I 
 hope I have not said any thing wounding. It was far from my 
 intention. I am a sad blunderer, however, as Gabriella knows 
 full well." 
 
 I was charmed with my straightforward, simple, and excellent 
 26 
 
302 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 teacher. I had never seen him appear to such advantage. Pie 
 had on an entirely new suit of the finest black broadcloth, that 
 fitted him quite a la mode ; a vest of the most dazzling white 
 ness ; and his thick black hair had evidently been under the 
 smoothing hands of a fashionable barber. His head seemed 
 much reduced in size ; while his massy, intellectual forehead 
 displayed a bolder sweep of outline, relieved of the shadows 
 that obscured its phrenological beauty. 
 
 He had seen Mrs. Linwood and Edith in Boston. They 
 were both well, and looking anxiously forward to the summer 
 reunion at Grandison Place. Dr. Harlowe sent me many char 
 acteristic messages, telling me my little rocking-chair was 
 waiting for me at my favorite window, and that he had not 
 learned to rub his shoes on the mat, or to hang up his hat yet. 
 
 " Does he call me the wild-cat, still ? " asked Madge. 
 
 " I believe so. He told me to say that he had his house re 
 paired, so that you could visit him without endangering Mrs. 
 Harlowe s china." 
 
 " The monster ! Well, he shall give me a new name, when 
 I see him again. But tell me, Mr. Regulus, who is the very 
 dignified and excellent gentleman whom mamma says is coming 
 to escort me home ? I have been expiring with curiosity to 
 know." 
 
 " I do not know of any one answering to that description, 
 Miss Margaret," replied Mr. Regulus, blushing, and passing his 
 hands over his knees. " I saw your mother at Mrs. Linwood s ; 
 and when she learned I was coming to this city, she said she 
 would be very much obliged to me, if I would take charge of 
 you, on my return." 
 
 " Then you did not come on purpose for me, Mr. Regulus," 
 said Madge, with a saucy smile. 
 
 " Oh no, I had business, and a very earnest desire to see 
 my young friend, Gabriel]a. If I can, however, combine the 
 useful with the agreeable, I shall be very well pleased." 
 
 " By the useful, you mean, seeing me safe in my mamma s 
 arms," said Madge, demurely. 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Margaret." 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 803 
 
 Even Ernest laughed at this peculiar compliment ; and 
 Madge bit her lip?, half in vexation, half in merriment. I 
 hardly knew what to think of Margaret. She was certainly 
 the most eccentric being I ever saw. She, who seemed to care 
 for the opinion of no one, reckless, defying, and apparently 
 heartless, showed more deference for Mr. Regulus, more solici 
 tude for his attention, than I had ever seen her manifest for 
 another s. Was it possible that this strange, wild girl, was at 
 tracted by the pure, unvarnished qualities of this " great grown 
 boy," as Dr. Harlowe called him ? It is impossible to account 
 for the fascination which one being exercises over another; 
 and from the days of Desdemona to the present hour, we sel 
 dom hear of an approaching marriage, without hearing at the 
 same time some one exclaim, " that it is strange, most pass 
 ing strange." 
 
 The moment I admitted the possibility of his exercising a 
 secret influence over Madge, I looked upon him with new inter 
 est. He had the intense, deep-set eye, which is said to tame the 
 wild beasts of the forest, and perhaps its glance had subdued 
 the animal nature that triumphed over her more ethereal attri 
 butes. I hoped most devoutly that my supposition might be 
 true ; for genuine affection exalts both the giver and receiver, 
 and opens ten thousand avenues to joy and good. 
 
 " You do not look quite so rosy as you did in the country," 
 said he, looking earnestly at me. " The dissipation of a city 
 life does not agree with our wild-wood flowers. They need a 
 purer atmosphere." 
 
 " Gabriella is taken very good care of," cried Madge, looking 
 significantly at Ernest. " She is not allowed to hurt herself by 
 dissipation, I assure you." 
 
 " Do you imply that she needs a restraining influence to keep 
 her from excess ? " asked Ernest. He spoke lightly, but he 
 never spoke without meaning something. 
 
 " No, indeed. She is the model wife of the nineteenth cen 
 tury. She is * wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best. Solomon 
 must have seen her with prophetic eye, when he wrote the last 
 chapter of Proverbs." 
 
304 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " Mock praise is the severest censure, Margaret," said I. 
 
 " No such thing. I mean every word I say. Show me a 
 young and beautiful wife, almost bride, immuring herself as you 
 do, and never seen in public but clinging to her husband s arm, 
 shrinking from admiration and blushing at a glance, and I will 
 show you another Solomon." 
 
 " Though you may speak in ridicule," said Ernest, with a con 
 tracted brow, " you have awarded her the most glorious meed 
 woman can receive. The fashion that sanctions a wife in 
 receiving the attentions of any gentleman but her husband, is 
 the most corrupt and demoralizing in the world. It makes 
 wedded vows a mockery, and marriage an unholy and heartless 
 rite." 
 
 " Do you expect to revolutionize society ? " she asked. 
 
 " No ; but I expect to keep my wife unspotted from the 
 world." 
 
 " I am glad she has so watchful a guardian," said Mr. Regu- 
 lus, regarding me with his old-fashioned, earnest tenderness. 
 " We hear very flattering accounts," he added, addressing me, 
 " of our young friend, Richard Clyde. He will return next 
 summer, after a year s absence, having acquired as much bene 
 fit as most young men do in two or three." 
 
 I could not help blushing, for I knew the eyes of Ernest 
 were on me. He could never hear the name of Richard with 
 indifference, and the prospect of his return was far from being 
 a source of pleasure to him. Richard was very dear to me as 
 a friend, and I was proud of his growing honors. Yet I dared 
 not manifest the interest I felt. 
 
 Never had I been so supremely happy, as since my reconcil 
 iation with Ernest. I felt that he had something to forgive, 
 much to forgive, and that he was magnanimous to do it, consid 
 ering the weakness with which he struggled. Never had I 
 loved him so entirely, or felt such confidence in my future hap 
 piness. Yet the moment the name of Richard Clyde was 
 mentioned, it sounded like a prophecy of evil. 
 
 Oh that he would transfer to Edith the affections given to 
 me, and then he could bind Ernest to his heart by the sacred 
 bonds of fraternity ! 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE few days which Mr. Regulus passed in the city, were 
 happy ones to me. He had never visited it before ; and Ernest 
 showed him more respect and attention than I had seen him 
 bestow on other men. I had never betrayed the romance of the 
 academy ; and not dreaming that my preceptor had ever been 
 my lover, he tolerated the regard he manifested, believing it 
 partook of the paternal character. Perhaps, had he remained 
 long, he would have considered even this an infringement on 
 his rights ; but, to my unspeakable joy, nothing occurred to 
 cloud our domestic horizon during his sfay. Once or twice 
 when the name of Richard Clyde was mentioned, I saw the 
 shadow of coming events on the brow of Ernest ; but it passed 
 away, and the evil day of his return seemed very far off. 
 
 I could not regret Margaret s departure. There was so en 
 tire a dissimilarity in our characters, and though I have no 
 doubt she cherished for me all the friendship she was capable 
 of feeling, it was of that masculine cast, that I could not help 
 shrinking from its manifestations. Her embraces were so 
 stringent, her kisses so loud and resounding, I could not receive 
 them without embarrassment, though no one but Ernest might 
 be near. 
 
 The evening before she left, she was in an unusually gentle 
 mood. We were alone in my chamber, and she actually sat 
 still several moments without speaking. This was something 
 as ominous as the pause that precedes the earth s spasmodic 
 throes. I have not spoken of Margaret s destructive propensi 
 ties, but they were developed in a most extraordinary manner. 
 
 26* (305) 
 
306 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 She had a habit of seizing hold of every thing she looked at, 
 and if it chanced to be of delicate materials, it often shivered in 
 her grasp. I do not wonder poor Mrs. Harlowe trembled for 
 her glass and china, for scarcely a day passed that her path 
 was not strewed with ruins, whose exquisite fragments betrayed 
 the costly fabric she had destroyed. Now it was a beautiful 
 porcelain vase, which she would have in her hands to examine 
 and admire, then an alabaster statuette or frail crystal orna 
 ment. If I dropped a kid glove, she invariably attempted to 
 put it on, and her hand being much larger than mine, she as 
 invariably tore it in shreds. She would laugh, roll up her eyes, 
 and exclaim, " shocking ! why this could not be worth any 
 thing ! I will let it alone next time." 
 
 I cannot say but that these daily proofs of carelessness and 
 destructiveness were trials of the temper and constant gratings 
 on the nerves. It was difficult to smile with a frowning heart, 
 for such wanton disregard for the property and feelings of oth 
 ers must pain that nice moral sense which is connected with the 
 great law of self-preservation. 
 
 This evening, she seized a beautiful perfume bottle that stood 
 on my toilet, and opening it, spilled it half on her handkerchief, 
 though one drop would fill the whole apartment with richest 
 odor. 
 
 " Do not break that bottle, Margaret ; it is very beautiful, 
 and Ernest gave it me this very morning." 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense, I am the most careful creature in the world. 
 Once in a while, to be sure, but then accidents will happen, 
 you know. O Gabriella I have something to tell you. Mr. 
 Harland wants me to marry him, ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " Well, you seemed pleased, Margaret. He is an accom 
 plished gentleman, and an agreeable one. Do you like him ? " 
 
 " No ! I liked him very well, till he wanted me to like him 
 better, and now I detest him. He is all froth, does not 
 know much more than I do myself. No, no, that will 
 never do." 
 
 " Perhaps you like some one else better ? " said I, thinking if 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 307 
 
 Margaret was ever caught in the matrimonial noose, it must be 
 a lasso, such as are thrown round the neck of the wild horses 
 of the prairies. 
 
 " What makes you say that ? " she asked, quickly, and my 
 beautiful essence bottle was demolished by some sudden jerk 
 which brought it in contact with the marble table. " The brittle 
 thing ! " she exclaimed, tossing the fragments on the carpet, at 
 the risk of cutting our slippers and wounding our feet. "I 
 would not thank Ernest for such baby trifles, I was scarcely 
 touching it. What makes you think I like anybody better ? " 
 
 " I merely asked the question," I answered, closing my work 
 box, and drawing it nearer, so that her depredating fingers could 
 not reach it. She had already destroyed half its contents. 
 
 " I do like somebody a great deal better," she said, tossing her 
 hair over her forehead and veiling her eyes ; " but if you 
 guessed till doomsday, you could not imagine who it is." 
 
 " I pity him, whoever it may be," said I, laughing. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You are no more fit to be a wife, Madge, than a child of five 
 years old. You have no more thought or consideration, fore 
 sight or care." 
 
 " I am two years older than you are, notwithstanding." 
 
 " I fear if you live to be a hundred, you will never have the 
 qualities necessary to secure your own happiness and that of 
 another in the close, knitting bonds of wedded life." 
 
 I spoke more seriously than I intended. I was thinking of 
 Mr. Regulus, and most devoutly hoped for his sake, this wild, 
 nondescript girl would never reach his heart through the medium 
 of his vanity. She certainly paid him the most dangerous kind 
 of flattery, because it was indirect. 
 
 " You do not know what a sensible man might make of me," 
 she said, shaking her head. " I really wish, I do not know, 
 but I sometimes think " 
 
 She stopped and leaned her head on her hand, and her hair 
 fell shadingly over her face. 
 
 " What, Margaret ? I should like exceedingly to know your 
 inmost thoughts and feelings. You seem to think and feel so 
 
308 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 little ; and yet, in every woman s heart there must be a foun 
 tain, or else what a desert waste, what a dreary wilderness 
 it must be." 
 
 She did not speak, but put both hands over her face and bent 
 it downwards, while her shoulders moved up and down with a 
 spasmodic motion. I thought she was shaking with suppressed 
 laughter ; and though I could not imagine what had excited 
 her mirth, I had known her convulsed by a ridiculous thought of 
 her own, in the midst of general seriousness. 
 
 But all at once unmistakable sobs broke forth, and I found 
 she was crying heartily, genuinely, crying without any self- 
 control, with all the abandonment of a child. 
 
 " Margaret ! " I exclaimed, laying my hand gently on her 
 quivering shoulder, " what is the matter ? What can have 
 excited you in this manner ? Do n t, Madge, you terrify 
 me." 
 
 " I can t help it," she sobbed. " Now I have began, I can t 
 stop. O dear, what a fool I am! There is nothing the 
 matter with me. I do n t know what makes me cry ; but I 
 can t help it, I hate myself, I can t bear myself, and yet 
 I can t change myself. Nobody that I care for will ever love 
 me. I am such a hoyden such a romp I disgust every 
 one that comes near me ; and yet I can t be gentle and sweet 
 like you, if I die. I used to think because I made every 
 body laugh, they liked me. People said, l Oh ! there s Madge, 
 she will keep us alive. And I thought it was a fine thing to 
 be called Wild Madge, and Meg the Dauntless ; I begin to hate 
 the names ; I begin to blush when I think of myself." 
 
 And Margaret lifted her head, and the feelings of lately 
 awakened womanhood crimsoned her cheeks, and streamed from 
 her eyes. I was electrified. What prophet hand had smitten 
 the rock ? What power had drawn up the rosy fluid from the 
 Artesian well of her heart ? 
 
 " My dear Margaret," I cried, " I hail this moment as the 
 dawn of a new life in your soul. Your childhood has lingered 
 long, but the moment you feel that you have the heart of a 
 woman, you will discard the follies of a child. Now you begin 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 309 
 
 to live, when you are conscious of the golden moments you 
 have wasted, the noble capacities you have never yet exerted. 
 Oh Margaret, I feel more and more every day I live, that I 
 was born for something more than the enjoyment of the passing 
 moment, that life was given for a more exalted purpose than 
 self-gratification, and that as we use or abuse this gift of God, 
 we become heirs of glory or of shame." 
 
 Margaret listened with a subdued countenance and a long- 
 drawn sigh. She strenuously wiped away the traces of her 
 tears, and shook back the hair from her brow, with a resolute 
 motion. 
 
 " You despise me I know you do," she said, gloomily. 
 
 " No, indeed," I answered, " I never liked you half as well 
 before; I doubted your sensibility. Now, I see you can feel, 
 and feel acutely. I shall henceforth think of you with interest, 
 and speak of you with tenderness." 
 
 " You are the dearest, sweetest creature in the world," she 
 exclaimed, putting both arms around me with unwonted gentle 
 ness; " I shall always love you, and will try to remember all 
 you have said to me to-night. We shall meet in the summer, 
 and you shall see, oh yes, you shall see. Dear me what a 
 fright I have made of myself." 
 
 She had risen, and was glancing at herself in the Psyche, 
 which, supported by two charming Cupids, reflected the figure 
 full length. 
 
 " I never will cry again if I can help it," she exclaimed. 
 "These horrid red circles round the eyes, and my eyes, too, 
 are as red as a rabbit s. The heroines of novels are always 
 said to look lovelier in tears ; but you are the only person I 
 ever saw who looked pretty after weeping." 
 
 " Did you ever see me weep, Madge ? " 
 
 " I have noticed more than you think I have, and believe 
 me, Gabriella, Ernest will have to answer for every tear he 
 draws from those angel eyes of yours." 
 
 " Margaret, you know not what you say. Ernest loves me 
 ten thousand times better than I deserve. He lavishes on me 
 a wealth of love that humbles me with a consciousness of my 
 
310 EKNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 own demerits. His only fault is loving me too well. Never, 
 never breathe before Mrs. Lin wood or Edith, before a human 
 being, the sentiment you uttered now. Never repeat the idle 
 gossip you may have heard. If you do speak of us, say that I 
 have known woman s happiest, most blissful lot. And that I 
 would rather be the wife of Ernest one year, than live a life of 
 endless duration with any other." 
 
 " It must be a pleasant thing to be loved," said Margaret, and 
 her black eyes flashed through the red shade of tears. 
 
 "And to love," I repeated. " It is more blessed to give, than 
 to receive." 
 
 A sympathetic chord was touched, there was music in it. 
 "Who ever saw a person weep genuine tears, without feeling the 
 throbbings of humanity, the drawings of the chain that binds 
 together all the sons and daughters of Adam ? If there are 
 such beings, I pity them. 
 
 Let them keep as far from me as the two ends of the rainbow 
 are from each other. The breath of the Deity has frozen 
 within them. 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE morning of Margaret s departure, when Mr. Regulus 
 was standing with gloves and hat in hand waiting her readiness, 
 it happened that I was alone in the parlor with him a few mo 
 ments. 
 
 " You will have a pleasant journey," said I. " You will find 
 Margaret an entertaining companion." 
 
 " yes ! " he answered, with a slight shrug of the shoul 
 ders, " but I fear she will excite too much remark by her wild 
 antics. I do not like to be noticed by strangers." 
 
 " She will accommodate herself to your wishes, I know she 
 will. You have great influence over her." 
 
 " Me ! oh no ! " he cried, with equal surprise and simplicity. 
 
 " Yes, indeed you have. Talk to her rationally, as if you 
 had confidence in her good-sense, Mr. Regulus, and you will 
 really find some golden wheat buried in the chaff. Talk to her 
 feelingly, as if you appealed to her sensibility, and you may 
 discover springs where you believe no waters flow." 
 
 " It is like telling me to search for spring flowers, when the 
 ground is all covered with snow, to look at the moon shining, 
 when the night is as dark as ebony. But I am thinking of 
 you, Gabriella, more than of her. I rejoice to find you the 
 same artless child of nature that sat at my feet years ago in 
 the greenwood shade. But beautiful as is your palace home, I 
 long to see you again in our lovely valley among the birds and 
 the flowers. I long to see you on the green lawn of Grandison 
 Place." 
 
 " I do feel more at home at Grandison Place," I answered. 
 
 (311) 
 
312 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " I would give more for the velvet lawn, the dear old elni, the 
 oaken avenue, than for all the magnificence of this princely 
 mansion." 
 
 " But you are happy here, my child ? " 
 
 " I have realized the brightest dreams of youth." 
 
 " God be praised ! and you have forgiven my past folly, 
 you think of me as preceptor, elder brother, friend." 
 
 " My dear master ! " I exclaimed, and tears, such as glisten 
 in the eyes of childhood, gathered in mine. I ivas a child 
 again, in my mother s presence, and the shade-trees of the gray 
 cottage seemed rustling around me. 
 
 The entrance of Margaret interrupted the conversation. She 
 never appeared to better advantage than in her closely fitting 
 riding dress, which displayed the symmetry of her round and 
 elastic figure. I looked at her with interest, for I had seen 
 those saucy, brilliant eyes suffused with tears, and those red, 
 merry lips quivering with womanly sensibility. I hoped 
 good things of Margaret, and though I could not regret her 
 departure, I thought leniently of her faults, and resolved to 
 forget them. 
 
 " Just like Margaret," said I, gathering up the beautiful dra 
 pery, on which she had trodden as she left the room, and rent 
 from the shaft that confined its folds. She stopped not to see 
 the mischief she had done, for she was so accustomed to hear a 
 crash and dash behind her, it is not probable she even no 
 ticed it. 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Ernest, before the echo of their 
 departing footsteps had died on the ear. " Thank God ! we are 
 
 once more alone." 
 
 ********** 
 
 Mr. Harland had visited us but seldom since the words of pas 
 sion which might have been followed by a scene of strife, but for 
 woman s restraining presence, had fallen from the lips of Ernest. 
 One evening, he called and asked a private interview with Er 
 nest, and they immediately passed into the library. I saw that 
 his countenance was disturbed, and vague apprehensions filled 
 my mind. I could hear their voices in earnest, excited tones ; 
 
Ell NEST LIN AY OOD. 313 
 
 and though I knew there was no revelation to be made which 
 Ernest had not already heard from me, I felt a conviction 
 amounting to certainty, that this mysterious interview had some 
 connection with my unhappy father, and boded evil to me. Mr. 
 Harland did not probably remain more than an hour, but every 
 moment seemed an hour, drawn out by suspense and apprehen 
 sion. He reentered the parlor with Ernest, but left immediate 
 ly ; while Ernest walked silently back and forth, as he always 
 did when agitated, his brows contracted with stern, intense 
 thought. He was excessively pale, and though his eyes did 
 not emit the lightning glance of passion, they flashed and burned 
 like heated metal. 
 
 I dared not ask him the cause of his emotion, I could only 
 watch him with quick-drawn breath, and lips sealed with dread. 
 Suddenly he put his hand in his bosom, and snatching thence 
 the fatal casket I had left in my father s crime-stained hands, 
 he hurled it to the floor, and trampled it under his feet. 
 
 " Behold," he cried, with inexpressible bitterness and grief, 
 " my mother s gift, her sacred bridal gift, desecrated, polluted, 
 lost, worse than lost ! I will not upbraid you. I would spare 
 you the pang I myself endure, but think of the agonies in 
 which a spirit like mine must writhe, to know that your name, 
 that the name of my wife is blazoned to the world, associated 
 with that of a vile forger, an abandoned villain, whose crimes 
 are even now blackening the newspapers, and glutting the greedy 
 appetite of slander ! rash, misguided girl ! what demon tempted 
 you to such fatal imprudence ? " 
 
 I sat immovable, frozen, my eyes fixed upon the carpet, my 
 hands as cold as ice, and my lips, as they touched each other, 
 chill as icicles. In moments of sudden anguish I never lost 
 consciousness, as many do, but while my physical powers were 
 crushed, my mind seemed to acquire preternatural sensibility. 
 I suffered as we do in dreams, intensely, exquisitely, when 
 every nerve is unsheathed, and the spirit naked to the dagger s 
 stroke. He stopped as he uttered this impassioned adjuration, 
 and his countenance changed instantaneously as he gazed on 
 mine. 
 
 27 
 
314 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " Cruel, cruel that I am ! " he cried, sitting down by me, 
 and wrapping his arms around me ; " I did not know what I was 
 saying. I meant to be gentle and forbearing, but strong passion 
 rushed over me like a whirlwind. Forgive me, Gabriella, my 
 darling, forgive me. Let the world say what it will, I know that 
 you are pure and true. I care not for the money, I care not 
 for the jewels, but an unspotted name. Oh ! where now are 
 the liveried angels that will guard it from pollution ? " 
 
 As he folded me in his arms, and pressed his cheek to mine, 
 as if striving to infuse into it vital warmth, I felt the electric 
 fluid flowing into my benumbed system. Whatever had oc 
 curred, he had not cast me off; and with him to sustain me, I was 
 strong to meet the exigencies of the moment. I looked up in his 
 face, and he read the expression of my soul, I know he did, for 
 he clasped me closer to him, and the fire of his eyes grew dim, 
 dim, through glistening tears. And then he told me all my 
 beseeching glances sought. More than a week before, even 
 before that, he had learned that a forgery had been committed 
 in his name, involving a very large sum of money. Liberal 
 rewards had been offered for the discovery of the villain, and 
 that day he had been brought to the city. My diamonds, on 
 whose setting Mrs. Linwood had had my name engraven, were 
 found in his possession. He had not spoken to me of the 
 forgery, not wishing to trouble me, he said, on a subject of such 
 minor importance. It was the publicity given to my name, in 
 association with his, that caused the bitterness of his anguish. 
 And I, I knew that my father had robbed my husband in 
 the vilest, most insidious manner ; that he had drawn upon 
 himself the awful doom of a forger, a dungeon home, a living 
 death. 
 
 My father ! the man whom my mother had loved. The re 
 membrance of this love, so long-enduring, so much forgiving, 
 hung like a glory round him. It was the halo of a saint encir 
 cling the brow of the malefactor. 
 
 " Will they not suppose the jewels were stolen ? " I asked, 
 with the calmness of desperation. " Surely the world cannot 
 know they were given by me ; and though it is painful to be 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 315 
 
 associated with so dark a transaction, I see not, dear Ernest, 
 why my reputation should be clouded by this ? " 
 
 " Alas ! Gabriella, you were seen by more than one walk 
 ing with him in the park. You were seen entering the jeweller s 
 shop, and afterwards meeting him in Broadway. Even in the 
 act of giving your shawl to the poor shivering woman, you 
 were watched. You believed yourself unremarked; but the 
 blind man might as well think himself unseen walking in the 
 blaze of noonday, because his own eyes are bound by the fillet 
 of darkness, as you expect to pass unnoticed through a gaping 
 throng. Mr. Harland told me of these things, that I might be 
 prepared to repel the arrows of slander which would inevitably 
 be aimed at the bosom of my wife/ 
 
 " But you told him that it was my father. That it was to 
 save him from destruction I gave them. Oh Ernest, you told 
 him all ! " 
 
 " I have no right to reveal your secret, Gabriella. If he bo 
 indeed your father, let eternal secrecy veil his name. "Would 
 you indeed consent that the world should know that it was your 
 father who had committed so dark a crime ? Would you, 
 Gabriella?" 
 
 " I would far rather be covered with ignominy as a daughter, 
 than disgrace as a wife," I answered, while burning blushes 
 dyed my cheeks at the possibility of the last. " The first will 
 not reflect shame or humiliation on you. You have raised me 
 generously, magnanimously, to your own position ; and though 
 the world may say that you yielded to weakness in loving me, 
 a poor and simple girl. Nay, nay ; I recall my words, 
 Ernest ; I will not wrong myself, because clouds and darkness 
 gather round me. You did not stoop, or lower yourself, by 
 wedding me. Love made us equal. My proud, aspiring love, 
 looked up; yours bent to meet its worship, and both united, 
 as the waves of ocean unite, in fulness, depth, and strength, 
 and, like them, have found their level. Let the world know 
 that I am the daughter of St. James ; that, moved by his 
 prayers and intimidated by his threats, I met him and attempt 
 ed to save him from ruin. They may say that I was rash and 
 
316 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 imprudent ; but they dare not call me guilty. There is a voice 
 in every heart which is not palsied, or deadened, or dumb, that 
 will plead in my defence. The child who endeavors to shield a 
 father from destruction, however low and steeped in sin he may 
 be, cannot be condemned. If I am, I care not ; but oh, Ernest, 
 as your wife, let me not suffer reproach, for your sake, my 
 husband, far more than mine." 
 
 As thus I pleaded with all the eloquence and earnestness of 
 my nature, with my hands clasped in his, their firm, close, yet 
 gentle fold grew firmer, closer still ; and the cloud passing away 
 from his countenance, it became luminous as I gazed. 
 
 " You are right, you are true," said he, " my dear, my 
 noble Gabriella. Every shadow of a doubt vanishes before the 
 testimony of your unselfish heart. Why did I not see this sub 
 ject in the same clear, just light ? Because my eyes are too 
 often blinded by the mists of passion. Yes ! you have pointed 
 out the only way of extrication. The story of your mother s 
 wrongs will not necessarily be exposed ; and if it is, the sacred 
 aegis of your filial love will guard it from desecration. We 
 shall not remain here long. Spring will soon return ; and in 
 tbe sweet quietude of rural life, we will forget the tumultuous 
 scenes of this modern Babel. You Avill not wish to return ? " 
 
 " No ! never, never. That unhappy man ! what will be his 
 doom?" 
 
 " Probably life-long imprisonment. Had I known who the 
 offender was, I would have prayed the winds and waves to bear 
 him to Icelandic seas, rather than have had his crime published 
 to the world. It is, however, the retribution of heaven ; and 
 we must submit." 
 
 " It seems so strange," said I, " to think of him alive, whose 
 existence so long seemed to me a blank. When I was a child, 
 I used to indulge in wild dreams about my unknown parent. I 
 pictured him as one of the gods of mythology, veiling his divin 
 ity in flesh for the love of the fairest of the daughters of men. 
 The mystery that wrapped his name was, to my imagination, 
 like the cloud mantling the noonday sun. With such views of 
 my lineage, which, though they became subdued as I grew 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 317 
 
 older, Avere still exaggerated and romantic, think of the awful 
 plunge into the disgraceful truth. It seems to me that I should 
 have died on my mother s grave, had not your arms of love 
 raised me, had you not breathed into my ear words that called 
 me back from the cold grasp of death itself. In the brightness 
 of the future I forgot the gloom of the past. Oh ! had I sup 
 posed that he lived, that he would come to bring on me pub 
 lic shame and Sorrow, and through me, on you, my husband, I 
 never would have exposed you to the sufferings of this night." 
 
 And I clung to him with an entireness of confidence, a ful 
 ness of gratitude that swelled my heart almost to bursting. 
 His face, beaming with unclouded love and trust, seemed to me 
 as the face of an angel. I cared not for obloquy or shame, 
 since he believed me true. I remembered the words of the 
 tender, the devoted Gertrude : 
 
 " I have been with thee in thine hour 
 
 Of glory and of bliss, 
 Doubt not its memory s living power 
 To strengthen me in this." 
 
 But. though my mind was buoyed up by the exaltation of my 
 feelings, my physical powers began to droop. I inherited some 
 thing of my mother s constitutional weakness ; and, suddenly as 
 the leaden weight falls when a clock has run down and the 
 machinery ceases to play, a heavy burden of lethargy settled 
 down upon me, and I was weak and helpless as a child. Dull 
 pain throbbed in my brain, as if it were girdled by a hard, tight 
 ening band. 
 
 It was several days before I left my bed, and more than a 
 week before I quitted my chamber. The recollection of Er 
 nest s tender watchfulness during these days of illness, even 
 now suffuses my eyes with tears. Had I been a dying infant 
 he could not have hung over me with more anxious, unslumber- 
 ing care. Oh ! whatever were his faults, his virtues redeemed 
 them all. Oh ! the unfathomable depths of his love ! I was 
 then willing to die, so fearful was I of passing out of this 
 heavenly light of home joy into the coldness of doubt, the gloom 
 of suspicion. 
 
 27* 
 
318 ERNEST LIN WO CD. 
 
 Ernest, with all his proneness to exaggerate the importance 
 of my actions, did not do so in reference to this unhappy trans 
 action. Paragraphs were inserted in the papers, in which the 
 initials of my name were inserted in large capitals to attract the 
 gazing eye. The meeting in the Park, the jewels found in 
 the possession of the forger, the abrupt manner in which they 
 were taken from the jeweller s shop, even the gray shawl and 
 green veil, were minutely described. Ernest had made ene 
 mies by the haughty reserve of his manners and the exclusive- 
 ness of his habits, and they stabbed him in secret where he was 
 most vulnerable. 
 
 A brief sketch of the real circumstances and the causes 
 which led to them, was published in reply. It was written with 
 manly boldness, but guarded delicacy, and rescued my name 
 from the fierce clutch of slander. Then followed glowing eulo- 
 giums on the self-sacrificing daughter, the young and beautiful 
 wife, till Ernest s sensitive spirit must have bled over the noto 
 riety given to her, whom he considered as sacred as the priestess 
 of some holy temple, and whose name was scarcely to be men 
 tioned but in prayer. 
 
 The only comment he made on them was, 
 
 " My mother and Edith will see these." 
 
 " I will write and tell them all," I answered ; " it will be too 
 painful to you." 
 
 " We will both write," he said ; and we did. 
 
 " You blame yourself too much," cried he, when he perused 
 my letter. 
 
 " You speak too kindly, too leniently of me," said I, after 
 reading his ; " yet I am glad and grateful. Your mother will 
 judge me from the facts, and nothing that you or I can say will 
 warp or influence her judgment. She understands so clearly 
 the motives of action, she reads so closely your character 
 and mine, I feel that her decision will be as righteous as the 
 decree of eternal justice. Oh that I were with her now, for my 
 soul looks to her as an ark of safety. Like the poor weary 
 dove, it longs to repose its drooping wings and fold them in 
 trembling joy on her sheltering breast." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 819 
 
 I will not speak of the trial, the condemnation, or the agony 
 I felt, when I learned that my father was doomed to expiate his 
 crime by solitary confinement for ten long years. Could Er 
 nest have averted this fate from him, for my sake he would 
 have done it ; but the majesty of the law was supreme, and no 
 individual effort could change its just decree. My affections 
 were not wounded, for I never could recall his image without 
 personal repugnance, but my mother s remembrance was asso 
 ciated with him ; I remembered her dying injunctions, her 
 prophetic dream. I thought of the heaven which he had for 
 feited, the God whose commandments he had broken, the 
 Saviour -whose mercy he had scorned. I wanted to go to 
 him, to minister to him in his lonely cell, to try to rouse 
 him to a sense of his transgressions, to lead him to the God 
 he had forsaken, the Redeemer he had rejected, the heaven 
 from which my mother seemed stretching her spirit arms to woo 
 him to her embrace. 
 
 " My mother dreamed that I drew him from a black abyss," 
 said I to Ernest ; " she dreamed that I w r as the guardian angel 
 of his soul. Let me go to him, let me fulfil my mission. I 
 shudder when I look around me in these palace walls, and 
 think that a parent groans in yonder dismal tombs." 
 
 "/ will go," replied Ernest ; " I will tell him your filial wish, 
 and if I find you can do him good, I will accompany you 
 there." 
 
 " I can do him good, I can pity and forgive him, I can 
 talk to him of my mother, and that will lead him to think of 
 heaven. I was sick and in prison and ye came unto me/ Oh, 
 thus our Saviour said, identifying himself with the sons of ig 
 nominy and sorrow. Go, and if you find his heart softened by 
 repentance, pour balm and oil into the wounds that sin has 
 made. Go, and let me follow." 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 "AND did you see him, Ernest?" I asked, with trembling 
 eagerness. 
 
 " I did, Gabriella. I went to him as your representative, 
 without one vindictive, bitter feeling. I proffered kindness, for 
 giveness, and every comfort the law would permit a condemned 
 criminal to enjoy. They were rejected fiercely, disdainfully, 
 he rejected them all." 
 
 " Alas ! and me, Ernest ; does he refuse consolation from 
 me?" 
 
 " He will not see you. * I ask no sympathy, he cried, iu 
 hoarse and sullen accents. I desire no fellowship ; alone I 
 have sinned, alone I will suffer, alone I will die. Weep 
 not, my Gabriella, over this hardened wretch ; I do not believe 
 he is your father ; I am more and more convinced that he is an 
 impostor." 
 
 " But he has my mother s miniature ; he recognized me from 
 my resemblance to it ; he called me by name ; he knew all the 
 circumstances of my infantine life. I would give worlds to be 
 lieve your assertion, but the curse clings to me. He is, he 
 must be my father." 
 
 " Mr. Brahan, who knew your father personally, and who is 
 deeply interested in the disclosures recently made, has visited 
 him also. He says there is a most extraordinary resemblance ; 
 and though seventeen years of sinful indulgence leave terrible 
 traces on the outward man, he does not doubt his identity. But 
 I cannot, will not admit it. Think of him no more, Gabriella ; 
 banish him, and every thing connected with this horrible event, 
 from your mind. In other scenes you will recover from the 
 
 (320) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 321 
 
 shock occasioned by it ; and even now the tongue of rumor is 
 busy with more recent themes. Mr. Brahan will visit him from 
 time to time and, if possible, learn something of the mystery 
 of his life. Whatever is learned will be communicated to me. 
 What ! weeping still, my Gabriella ? " 
 
 " It is dreadful to think of sin and crime in the abstract; but 
 when it comes before us in the person of a father ! " 
 
 " No more ! no more ! Dismiss the subject. Let it be hence 
 forth a dark dream, forgotten if possible ; or if remembered, be it 
 as a dispensation of Providence, to be borne in silence and sub 
 mission. Strange as it may seem, all that I have suffered of 
 humiliation and anguish in this real trial, cannot be compared 
 to the agony caused by one of my own dark imaginings." 
 
 I tried to obey the injunctions of Ernest ; but though my 
 lips were silent, it was impossible to check the current of 
 thought, or to obliterate the dark remembrance of the past. My 
 spirits lost their elasticity, the roses on my cheek grew pale. 
 
 Spring came, not as in the country, with the rich garniture of 
 living green, clothing hill, valley, and lawn, the blossoming of 
 flowers, the warbling of birds, the music of waters, and 
 all the beauty, life, and glory of awakening nature. But the foun 
 tain played once more in the grotto, the vine-wreaths frolicked 
 again round their graceful shells, the statues looked at their 
 pure faces in the shining mural wall. 
 
 I cared not for these. This was not my home. I saw the 
 faces of Mrs. Lin wood and Edith in the mirror of memory. I 
 saw the purple hills, the smiling vale, the quiet churchyard, the 
 white, broken shaft, gleaming through the willow boughs, and 
 the moonbeams resting in solemn glory there. 
 
 Never shall I forget my emotions when, on quitting the city, 
 I caught a glimpse of that gloomy and stupendous granite pile 
 which looms up in the midst of grandeur and magnificence, an 
 awful monitor to human depravity. Well does it become its 
 chill, funereal name. Shadows deeper than the darkness of the 
 grave hang within its huge Egyptian columns. Corruption 
 more loathsome than the mouldering remains of mortality 
 dwells in those lone and accursed cells. I gazed on the massy 
 
322 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 walls, as they frowned on the soft blue sky, till their shadow 
 seemed to darken the heavens. I thought of the inmate of one 
 lonely cell ; of the sighs and tears, the curses and wailings 
 that had gone up from that abode of shame, despair, and mis 
 ery ; and I wondered why the Almighty did not rend the heav 
 ens and come down and bare the red right arm of vengeance 
 over a world so blackened by sin, so stained by crime, and so 
 given up to the dominion of the spirit of evil. 
 
 Ernest drew me back from the window of the carriage, that 
 I might not behold this grim fortification against the powers of 
 darkness ; but it was not till we had quitted the walls of the 
 metropolis, and inhaled a purer atmosphere, that I began to 
 breathe more freely. The tender green of the fields, the 
 freshness of the atmosphere, the indescribable odor of spring 
 that embalmed the gale, awakened softer, happier thoughts. 
 The footsteps of divine love were visible on the landscape. 
 The voice of God was heard, breathing of mercy, through the 
 cool green boughs. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 OXCE more at Grandison Place ! Once more on the breezy 
 height which commanded the loveliest valley creation ever 
 formed ! Light, bloom, joy came back to eye, cheek, and heart, 
 as I hailed again the scene where the day-spring of love dawned 
 on my life. 
 
 "jGrod made the country." 
 
 Yes ! I felt this truth in every bounding vein. " God made 
 the country," with its rich sweep of verdant plains, its blue 
 winding streams, shedding freshness and murmuring music 
 through the smiling fields ; its silver dews, its golden sunsets, 
 and all its luxuriance and greenness and bloom. The black 
 shadow of the Tombs did not darken this Eden of my youth. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood and Edith I was with them once more. 
 Mrs. Linwood, in her soft twilight robe of silver grey ; and 
 Edith, with her wealth of golden locks, and eye of heaven s own 
 azure. 
 
 " You must not leave us again," said Mrs. Linwood, as she 
 clasped us both in her maternal arms. " There are but few of 
 us, and we should not be separated. Absence is the shadow of 
 death, and falls coldly on the heart." 
 
 She glanced towards Edith, whose beautiful face was paler 
 and thinner than it was wont to be. She had pined for the 
 brother of whom I had robbed her ; for the world offered her 
 nothing to fill the void left in the depths of her loving heart. 
 We were all happier together. We cannot give ourselves 
 up to the dominion of an exclusive passion, whatever it may be, 
 without an outrage to nature, which sooner or later revenges the 
 wrong inflicted. With all my romantic love for Ernest, I had 
 
 (323) 
 
324 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 often sighed for the companionship of one of my own sex ; and 
 now, restored to Edith, whom I had always regarded a little 
 lower than the angels, I felt that if love was more rapturous 
 than friendship, it was not more divine. 
 
 They knew that I had suffered. They had sympathized with 
 me, pitied me, (if Mrs. Lin wood blamed me for imprudence, 
 she never expressed it) ; and I felt that they loved me better 
 for having passed under the cloud. There was no allusion 
 made to the awful events which were present in the minds of 
 all, on our first reunion. If Mrs. Linwood noticed, that after 
 the glow of excitement faded from my cheek it was paler than 
 it was wont to be, she did not tell me so, but her kiss was more 
 tender, her glance more kind. There was something in her 
 mild, expressive eyes, that I translated thus : 
 
 " Thank God that another hand than Ernest s has stolen the 
 rose from thy cheek of youth. Better, far better to be humbled 
 by a father s crimes, than blighted by a husband s jealousy." 
 
 This evening reminded me so much of the first I ever passed 
 with Ernest. He asked Edith for the music of her harp ; and 
 I sat in the recess of the window, in the shadow of the curtains, 
 through whose transparent drapery the moonbeams stole in and 
 kissed my brow. Ernest came and sat down beside me, and my 
 hand was clasped in his. As the sweet strains floated round us, 
 they seemed to mingle with the moonlight, and my spirit was 
 borne up on waves of brightness and melody. Always before, 
 when listening to Edith s angelic voice, I had wished for the same 
 enchanting power. I had felt that thus I could sing, I could 
 play, had art developed the gifts of nature, only with deeper 
 passion and sensibility ; but now I listened without conscious 
 desire, passive, happy, willing to receive, without desiring to 
 impart. I felt like the pilgrim who, after a sultry day of weari 
 ness, pauses by a cool spring, and, laying himself down beneath 
 its gushing, suffers the stream to flow over him, till, pene 
 trated by their freshness, his soul seems a fountain of living 
 waters. Oh ! the divine rapture of repose, after restlessness 
 and conflict ! I had passed the breakers. Henceforth my life 
 would be calm and placid as the beams that illumined the 
 night. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 325 
 
 And now I am tempted to lay down the pen. I would not 
 weary thee, friend of my lonely hours, whoever thou art, by a 
 repetition of scenes which show how poor and weak are the 
 strongest human resolutions, when temptations assail and pas 
 sions rise with the swell and the might of the stormy billows. 
 But if I record weaknesses and errors, such as seldom sadden 
 the annals of domestic life, it is that God may be glorified in 
 the humiliation of man. It is that the light of the sun of 
 righteousness may be seen to arise with healing in his beams, 
 while the mists of error and the clouds of passion are left roll 
 ing below. 
 
 Yes ! We were all happy for a while, and in the midst of 
 such pure, reviving influences, I became blooming and elastic as 
 a mountain maid. Dr. Harlowe was the same kind, genial, 
 warm-hearted friend. Mr. Regulus, the same no, he was 
 changed, improved, softened still more than when he surprised 
 me by his graces, in my metropolitan home. He looked several 
 years younger, and a great deal handsomer. 
 
 Had Margaret wrought this improvement ? Had she indeed 
 supplanted me in my tutor s guileless heart ? I inquired of 
 Edith after the wild creature, whom I suspected some secret 
 influence was beginning to tame. 
 
 " Oh ! you have no idea how Madge is improved, since her 
 visit to you," she answered. " She sometimes talks sensibly for 
 five minutes at a time, and I have actually caught her singing 
 and playing a sentimental air. Mamma says if she were in 
 love with a man of sense and worth, he might make of her a 
 most invaluable character." 
 
 " Mr. Regulus, for instance ! " said I. 
 
 Edith laughed most musically. 
 
 " Mr. Regulus in love ! that would be a farce." 
 
 " I have seen that farce performed," said Dr. Harlowe, who 
 happened to come in at that moment, and caught her last words. 
 " I have seen Mr. Regulus as much in love as let me see," 
 glancing at me, " as Richard Clyde." 
 
 MrcL as I liked Dr. Harlowe I felt angry with him for an 
 28 
 
326 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 allusion, which always called the cloud to Ernest s brow, and 
 the blush to my cheek. 
 
 " Do tell me the object of his romantic passion ? " cried Edith, 
 who seemed excessively amused at the idea. 
 
 " Am I telling tales out of school ? " asked the doctor, looking 
 merrily at me. " Do you not know the young enchantress, who 
 has turned all the heads in our town, not excepting the shoe 
 maker s apprentice and the tailor s journeyman ? Poor Mr. 
 Regulus could not escape the fascination. The old story of 
 Beauty and the Beast, only Beauty was inexorable this 
 time." 
 
 " Gabriella ! " exclaimed Edith, with unutterable astonish 
 ment ; " he always called her his child. Who would have be 
 lieved it ? Why, Gabriella, how many victims have your 
 chariot wheels of conquest rolled over ? " 
 
 " I am afraid if / had not been a married man, she would 
 have added me to the number," said the doctor, with much gravity. 
 " I am not certain that Mrs. Harlowe is not jealous, in secret, of 
 my public devotion." 
 
 Who would believe that light words like these, carelessly 
 uttered, and forgotten with the breath that formed them, should 
 rankle like arrows in a breast where reason was enthroned ? 
 But it was even so. The allusion to Richard Clyde, the revelation 
 of Mr. Regulus romantic attachment, even the playful remarks 
 of Dr. Harlowe relative to his wife s jealousy, were gall and 
 wormwood, embittering the feelings of Ernest. He frowned, 
 bit his lip, rose, and walked into the piazza. His mother s eyes 
 followed him with that look which I had so often seen before 
 our marriage, and which I now understood too well. I made an 
 involuntary movement to follow him, but her glance commanded 
 me to remain. The doctor, who was in a merry mood, continued 
 his sportive remarks, without appearing to notice the darkened 
 countenance and absence of Ernest. I talked and smiled too 
 at his good-humored sallies, that he might not perceive my anx 
 ious, wounded feelings. 
 
 A little while after Mr. Regulus called, and Ernest accom- 
 
ERNEST LIXTVOOD. 827 
 
 parried him to the parlor door with an air of such freezing 
 coldness, I wonder it did not congeal his warm and unsuspect 
 ing heart. And there Ernest stood with folded arms, leaning 
 back against the wall just within the door, stern and silent, 
 casting a dark shadow on my soul. Poor Mr. Regulus, now 
 he knew he had been my lover, he would scarcely permit him 
 to be my friend. 
 
 " Oh ! " thought I, blushing to think how moody and strange 
 he must seem to others, u surely my happiness is based on 
 sand, since the transient breath of others can shake it from its 
 foundation. If it depended on myselfj I would guard every 
 look, word, and action, with never sleeping vigilance ; but how 
 can I be secured against the casual sayings of others, words 
 unmeaning as a child s, and as devoid of harm ? I might as 
 well make cables of water and walls of foam, as build up a 
 fabric of domestic felicity without confidence as the foundation 
 stone." 
 
 As these thoughts arose in my mind, my heart grew hard 
 and rebellious. The golden_chain of ..lose clanked and chafed 
 against the bosom it attempted to imprison. 
 
 " I will not," I repeated to myself, " alienate from me, by 
 coolness and gloom, the friends who have loved me from my 
 orphan childhood. Let him be morose and dark, if he will ; I 
 will not follow his example. I will not be the slave of his mad 
 caprices." 
 
 " No," whispered the angel over my right shoulder, " but you 
 will be the forbearing, gentle wife, who promised to endure all, 
 knowing his infirmity, before you breathed your wedded vows. 
 You are loved beyond the sober reality of common life. Your 
 prayer is granted. You dare not murmur. You have held out 
 your cup for the red wine. There is fire in its glow. You can 
 not turn it into water now. There is no divine wanderer on 
 earth to reverse the miracle of Cana. * Peace is woman s 
 watchword, and heaven s holiest, latest legacy." 
 
 As I listened to the angel s whisper, the voices of those 
 around me entered not my ear. I was as far away from them 
 as if pillowed on the clouds, whose silver edges crinkled round 
 the moon. 
 
828 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 As soon as our guests had departed, Ernest went up to Edith, 
 and putting his arm round her, drew her to the harp. 
 
 " Sing for me, Edith, for my spirit is dark and troubled. 
 You alone have power to soothe it. You are the David of the 
 haunted Saul." 
 
 She looked up in his face suddenly, and leaned her head on 
 his shoulder. Perhaps at that moment she felt the joy of being 
 to him all that she had been, before he had known and loved 
 me. He had appealed to her, in the hour of darkness. He had 
 passed me by, as though I were not there. He sat down 
 close to her as she played, so close that her fair ringlets swept 
 against his cheek ; and as she sang, she turned towards him 
 with such a loving smile, such a sweet, happy expression, 
 just as she used to wear ! I always loved to hear Edith sing ; 
 but now my spirit did not harmonize with the strains. Again a 
 stinging sense of injustice quickened the pulsations of my heart. 
 Again I asked myself, " What had I done, that he should look 
 coldly on me, pass me with averted eye, and seek consolation 
 from another ? " 
 
 I could not sit still and listen, for I was left alone. I rose 
 and stole from the room, stole out into the dewy night, under 
 the heavy, drooping shade-boughs, and sat down wearily, lean 
 ing my head against the hard, rough bark. Never had I seen 
 a more enchanting night. A thin mist rose from the bosom of 
 the valley and hovered like a veil of silvery gauze over its rich 
 depth of verdure. It floated round the edge of the horizon, 
 subduing its outline of dazzling blue, and roiled off among the 
 hills in soft, yet darkening convolutions. And high above me, 
 serene and holy, the moon leaned over a ledge of slate-colored 
 clouds, whose margin was plated with her beams, and looked 
 pensively and solemnly on the pale and sad young face uplifted 
 to her own. The stilly dews slept at my feet. They hung 
 tremulously on the branches over my head, and sparkled on the 
 spring blossoms that gave forth their inmost perfume to the 
 atmosphere of night. Every thing was so calm, so peaceful, so 
 intensely lovely, and yet there was something deadly and 
 chilling mingled with the celestial beauty of the scene. The lace 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 829 
 
 clung in damp folds to my bosom. The hair fell heavy with 
 moL-ture against my temples. 
 
 I heard a step softly crushing the grass near me. I did not 
 look up, for I thought it was the step of Ernest ; but my pulse 
 throbbed with a quickened motion. 
 
 " Gabriella, my child, you must not sit here in this chill, 
 damp evening air." 
 
 It was Mrs. Linwood, who took me by the hand and drew 
 me from the seat. It was not Ernest. He had not missed me. 
 He had not feared for me the chill dews of night. 
 
 " I do not feel cold," I answered, with a slight shudder. 
 
 " Come in," she repeated, leading me to the house with gentle 
 force. 
 
 " Not there," I said, shrinking from the open door of the 
 parlor, through which I could see Ernest, with his head leaning 
 on both hands, while his elbows rested on the back of Edith s 
 chair. She was still singing, and the notes of her voice, sweet 
 as they were, like the odor of the night-flowers, had something 
 languishing and oppressive. I hurried by, and ascended the 
 stairs. Mrs. Linwood followed me to the door of my apartment, 
 then taking me by both hands, she looked me full in the face, 
 with a mildly reproachful glance. 
 
 " 0, Gabriella ! if your spirit sink thus early, if you can 
 not bear the burden you have assumed, in the bright morning 
 hour of love, how will you be able to support it in the sultry 
 noon of life, or in the weariness of its declining day ? You are 
 very young, you have a long pilgrimage before you. If you 
 droop now, where will be the strength to sustain in a later, 
 darker hour ? " 
 
 " I shall not meet it," I answered, trying in vain to repress 
 the rising sob. " I do not wish a long life, unless it be happier 
 than it now promises to be." 
 
 " What ! so young, and so hopeless ! Where is the strength 
 and vitality of your love ? The fervor and steadfastness of 
 your faith ? My child, you have borne nothing yet, and you 
 promised to hope all and endure all. Be strong, be patient, be 
 hopeful, and you shall yet reap your reward." 
 
 28* 
 
330 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 " Alas ! my mother, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is 
 weak." 
 
 " There is no task appointed to man or woman," she answered, 
 " which may not be performed, through the power of God and 
 the influences of the Holy Spirit. Remember this, my beloved 
 daughter ; and remember, too, that the heart which bends will 
 not break. Good-night ! AYe had better not renew this theme. 
 4 Patient continuance in well-doing ; let this be your motto, 
 and if happiness in this world be not your reward, immortality 
 and glory in the next will be yours." 
 
 I looked after her as she gently retreated, and as the light 
 glanced on the folds of her silver gray dress, she seemed to 
 me as one of the sliming ones revealed in the pilgrim s vision. 
 At that moment her esteem and approbation seemed as precious 
 to me as Ernest s love. I entered my chamber, and sitting 
 down quietly in my beloved recess, repeated over and over 
 again the Christian motto, which the lips of Mrs. Linwood ut 
 tered in parting, " Patient continuance in well-doing." 
 
 I condemned myself for the feelings I had been indulging. 
 I had felt bitter towards Edith for smiling so sweetly in her 
 brother s face, when it had turned so coldly from me. I was 
 envious of her power to soothe the restless spirit I had so un 
 consciously troubled. As I thus communed with my own heart, 
 I unbound my hair, that the air might exhale the mist which 
 had gathered in its folds. I brushed out the damp tresses, till, 
 self-mesmerized, a soft haziness stole over my senses, and 
 though I did not sleep, I was on the borders of the land of 
 dreams. 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 I SUPPOSE I must have slept, though I was not conscious of 
 it, for I did not hear Ernest enter the room, and yet when I 
 looked again, he was sitting in the opposite window, still as a 
 statue, looking out into the depths of night. I started as if 
 I had seen a spirit, for I believed myself alone, and I did not 
 feel less lonely now. There was something dejected in his atti 
 tude, and he sighed heavily as he turned and leaned his fore 
 head against the window sash. 
 
 I rose, and softly approaching him laid my hand on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Are you angry with me, Ernest ? " I asked. 
 
 He did not answer, or turn towards me ; but I felt a tremu 
 lous motion of his shoulder, and knew that he heard me. 
 
 " What have I done to displease you, dear Ernest ? " again I 
 asked. " Will you not speak to me and tell me, at least, in what 
 I have offended ? " 
 
 " I am not offended," he answered, without looking up ; " I 
 am not angry, but grieved, wounded, and unhappy." 
 
 " And will you not tell me the cause of your grief ? Is not 
 sympathy in sorrow the wife s holiest privilege ? " 
 
 " Gabriella, you mock me ! " he exclaimed, suddenly rising 
 and speaking in a low, stern voice. " You know that you are 
 yourself the cause of my grief, and your words are as hollow as 
 your actions are vain. Did you not promise, solemnly promise 
 never to deceive me again, after having caused me such agony 
 by the deception I yet freely forgave ? " 
 
 " Tell me, Ernest, in what have I deceived ? If I know my- 
 
 (331) 
 
332 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 self, every word and action has been as clear and open as noon 
 day/ 
 
 " Did you ever tell me your teacher was your lover, he 
 with whom you were so intimately associated when I first knew 
 you ? You suffered me to believe that he was to you in the 
 relation almost of a father. I received him as such in my own 
 home. I lavished upon him every hospitable attention, as the 
 friend and guide of your youth, and now you suffer me to hear 
 from others that his romantic love was the theme of village 
 gossip, that your names are still associated by idle tongues." 
 
 " I always believed before that unrequited love was not a 
 theme for vain boasting, that it was a secret too sacred to be 
 divulged even to the dearest and the nearest." 
 
 " But every one who has been so unfortunate as to be asso 
 ciated with you, seems to have been the victims of unrequited 
 love. The name of Richard Clyde is familiar to all as the 
 model of despairing lovers, and even Dr. Harlowe addresses 
 you in a strain of unpardonable levity." 
 
 " O Ernest, cannot you spare even him ? " 
 
 " You asked me the cause of my displeasure, and I have 
 told you the source of my grief, otherwise I had been silent. 
 There must be something wrong, Gabriella, or you would not 
 be the subject of such remarks. Edith, all lovely as she is, 
 passes on without exciting them. The most distant allusion to 
 a lover should be considered an insult by a wedded woman, 
 and most especially in her husband s presence." 
 
 " I have never sought admiration or love," said I, every feel 
 ing of delicacy and pride rising to repel an insinuation so 
 unjust. " When they have been mine, they were spontaneous 
 gifts, offered nobly, and if not accepted, at least declined with 
 gratitude and sensibility. If I have been so unfortunate as to 
 win what your lovely sister might more justly claim, it has 
 been by the exercise of no base allurement or meritricious 
 attractions. I appeal to your own experience, and if it does 
 not acquit me, I am for ever silent." 
 
 Coldly and proudly my eye met his, as we stood face to face 
 in the light of the midnight moon. I, who had looked up to 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 333 
 
 him with the reverence due to a superior being, felt that I was 
 above him now. He was the slave of an unjust passion, the 
 dupe of a distempered fancy, and as such unworthy of my 
 respect and love. As I admitted this truth, I shuddered with 
 that vague horror we feel in dreams, when we recoil from the 
 brink of something, we know not what. I trembled when his 
 lips opened, fearful he would say something more irrational and 
 unmanly still. 
 
 " O Ernest ! " I cried, all at once yielding to the emotions 
 that were bearing me down with such irresistible power, " you 
 frighten me, you fill me with unspeakable dread. There seems 
 a deep abyss yawning between us, and I stand upon one icy 
 brink and you on the other, and the chasm widens, and I stretch 
 out my arms in vain to reach you, and I call, and nothing but 
 a dreary echo answers, and I look into my heart and do not 
 find you there. Save me, Ernest, save me, my husband, 
 save yourself from a doom so dreadful ! " 
 
 Excited by the awful picture of desolation I had drawn, I 
 slid down upon my knees and raised my clasped hands, as if 
 pleading for life beneath the axe of the executioner. I must 
 have been the very personification of despair, with my hair 
 wildly sweeping round me, and hands locked in agony. 
 
 To live on, live on together, year after year, cold and es 
 tranged, without love, without hope," I continued, unable to 
 check the words that came now as in a rushing tide, " Oh ! is it 
 not dreadful, Ernest, even to think of? There is no evil I 
 could not bear while we loved one another. If poverty came, 
 
 welcome, welcome. I could toil and smile, if I only toiled 
 for you, if I were only trusted, only believed. There is no sac 
 rifice I would not make to prove my faith. Do you demand 
 my right hand? cut it off; my right eye? pluck it out; 
 
 I withhold nothing. I would even lay my heart bleeding at 
 your feet in attestation of my truth. But what can I do, when 
 the idle breath of others, over which I have no power, shakes 
 the tottering fabric of your confidence, and I am buried beneath 
 the ruins ? " 
 
 " You have never loved like me, Gabriella, or you would 
 
334 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 never dream of the possibility of its being extinguished," said 
 he, in a tone of indescribable wretchedness. " I may alienate 
 you from me, by the indulgence of insane passions, by accusa 
 tions repented as soon as uttered, I may revile and persecute, 
 but I can never cease to love you." 
 
 "0 Ernest!" It was all gone, pride, anger, despair, 
 were gone. The first glance of returning love, the first ac 
 knowledgment of uttered wrong, were enough for me. I was in 
 his arms, next to his heart, and the last hours seemed a dream 
 of darkness. I was happy again ; but I trembled even in the 
 joy of reconciliation. I realized on what a slender thread my 
 wedded happiness was hanging, and knew that it must one day 
 break. Moments like these were like those green and glowing 
 spots found on the volcano s burning edge. The lava of passion 
 might sweep over them quick as the lightning s flash, and beauty 
 and bloom be covered with ashes and desolation. 
 
 And so the cloud passed by, and Ernest was, if possible, 
 more tender and devoted, and I tried to cast off the prophetic 
 sadness that would at times steal over the brightness of the fu 
 ture. I was literally giving up all for him. I no longer de 
 rived pleasure from the society of Mr. Regulus. I dreaded 
 the sportive sallies of Dr. Harlowe. I looked forward with 
 terror to the return of Richard Clyde. I grew nervous and 
 restless. The color would come and go in my face, like the 
 flashes of the aurora borealis, and my heart would palpitate sud 
 denly and painfully, as if some unknown evil were impending. 
 Did I now say, as I did a few months after my marriage, 
 that I preferred the stormy elements in which I moved, to 
 the usual calm of domestic life ? Did I exult, as the billows 
 swelled beneath me and bore me up on their foaming crests, 
 in the power of raising the whirlwind and the tempest ? No ; I 
 sighed for rest, for still waters and tranquil skies. 
 
 It is strange, that n, subject which has entirely escaped the 
 mind, when associations naturally recall it, will sometimes re 
 turn and haunt it, when nothing seems favorable for its recep 
 tion. 
 
 During my agitated interview with my unhappy father, 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 335 
 
 I had forgotten Theresa La Fontaine, and the boy whose 
 birthright I had unconsciously usurped. Mr. Brahan, in speak 
 ing of St. James and his two wives, said they had both disap 
 peared in a mysterious manner. That boy, if living, was my 
 brother, my half-brother, the legitimate inheritor of my name, 
 a name, alas ! he might well blush to bear. If living, where 
 was he, and who was he ? Was he the heir of his father s 
 vices, and was he conscious of his ignominious career ? These 
 questions constantly recurred, now there was no oracle near 
 to answer. Once, and only once, I mentioned them to Mrs. 
 Lin wood. 
 
 " You had better not attempt to lift the veil -which covers the 
 past," she answered, in her most decided manner. " Think of 
 the suffering, not to say disgrace, attached to the discovery of 
 your father, and let this brother be to you as though he had 
 never been. Tempt not Providence, by indulging one \vish on 
 the subject, which might lead to shame and sorrow. Ernest 
 has acted magnanimously with regard to the circumstances, 
 which must have been galling beyond expression to one of his 
 proud and sensitive nature. And I, Gabriella, though out of 
 delicacy to you, I have forborne any allusion to the events of 
 the last winter, have suffered most deeply and acutely on their 
 account. I have suffered for myself, as well as my son. If 
 there is any thing in this world to be prized next to a blame 
 less conscience, it is an unspotted name. Well is it for you, 
 that your own is covered with one, which from generation to 
 generation has been pure and honorable. Well is it for you, 
 that your husband s love is stronger than his pride, or he might 
 reproach you for a father s ignominy. Remember this, when 
 you feel that you have wrongs to forgive. And as you value 
 your own happiness and ours, never, my child, seek to discover 
 a brother, whom you would probably blush to acknowledge, 
 and my son be compelled to disown." 
 
 She spoke with dignity and emphasis, while the pride of a 
 virtuous and honored ancestry, though subdued by Christian 
 grace, darkened her eyes and glowed on her usually colorless 
 cheek. I realized then all her forbearance and delicacy. I 
 
336 EKNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 understood what a deep wound her family pride must have re 
 ceived, and how bitterly she must have regretted a union, 
 which exposed her son to contact with degradation and crime. 
 
 " I would not have spoken as I have, my daughter," she 
 added, in a softened tone, " but with your limited knowledge of 
 the world, you cannot understand the importance attached to 
 unblemished associations. And never mention the subject to 
 Ernest, if you would not revive memories that had better slum 
 ber for ever." 
 
 She immediately resumed her kind and gracious manner, but 
 I never forgot the lesson she had given. My proud spirit 
 needed no second warning. Never had I felt so crushed, so 
 humiliated by the remembrance of my father s crimes. That 
 he was my father I had never dared to doubt. Even Ernest 
 relinquished the hope he had cherished, as time passed on, and 
 no letter from Mr. Brahan threw any new light on the dark 
 relationship ; though removed from the vicinity of the dismal 
 Tombs, the dark, gigantic walls cast their lengthening shadow 
 over the fresh green fields and blossoming meadows, and dim 
 med the glory of the landscape. 
 
 The shadow of the Tombs met the shadow in my heart, and 
 together they produced a chill atmosphere. I sighed for that 
 perfect love which casteth out fear ; that free, joyous inter 
 course of thought and feeling, born of undoubting confidence. 
 
 Could I live over again the first year of my wedded life, with 
 the experience that now enlightens me, I would pursue a very 
 different course of action. A passion so wild and strong as 
 that which darkened my domestic happiness, should be resisted 
 with the energy of reason, instead of being indulged with the 
 weakness of fear. Every sacrifice made to appease its violence 
 only paved the way for a greater. Every act of my life had 
 reference to this one master-passion. I scarcely ever spoke 
 without watching the countenance of Ernest to see the effect 
 of my words. If it was overcast or saddened, I feared I had 
 given utterance to an improper sentiment, and then I blushed 
 in silence. Very unfortunate was it for him, that I thus fed 
 and strengthened the serpent that should have been strangled 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 337 
 
 in the cradle of our love ; and his mother unconsciously did the 
 same. She believed him afflicted by a hereditary malady 
 which should inspire pity, and be treated with gentleness rather 
 than resistance. Edith, too, if a cloud passed over his brow, 
 she exerted every winning and endearing sisterly art to chase 
 the gloom. 
 
 The history of man for six thousand years shows, that in the 
 exercise of unlimited power he becomes a despot. Kingly 
 annals confirm the truth of this, and domestic records proclaim 
 it with a thundering tongue. There must be a restraining in 
 fluence on human passion, or its turbulent waves swell higher 
 and higher, till they sweep over the landmarks of reason, honor 
 and love. The mighty hand of God is alone powerful enough 
 to curb the raging billows. He alone can say, " peace, be still." 
 But he has ministers on earth appointed to do his pleasure, and 
 if they fulfil their task He may not be compelled to reveal him 
 self in flaming fire as the God of retributive justice. 
 
 I know that Ernest loved me, with all his heart, soul, and 
 strength ; but mingled with this deep, strong love, there was 
 the alloy of selfishness, the iron of a despotic will. There 
 was the jealousy of power, as well as the jealousy of love, un 
 consciously exercised and acquiring by indulgence a growing 
 strength. 
 
 My happiness was the first desire of his heart, the first aim 
 of his life ; but I must be made happy in his way, and by his 
 means. His hand, fair, soft, and delicate as a woman s, that 
 hand, with its gentle, warm, heart-thrilling pressure, was never 
 theless the hand of Procrustes ; and though he covered the iron 
 bed with the flowers of love, the spirit sometimes writhed under 
 the coercion it endured. 
 
 " You are not well," said Dr. Harlowe, as we met him during 
 an evening walk. " I do not like that fluctuating color, or that 
 quick, irregular breathing." 
 
 Ernest started as if he had heard my death-warrant ; and, 
 taking my hand, he began to count my quickly throbbing pulse. 
 
 " That will never do," said the doctor, smiling. " Her pulse 
 will beat three times as fast under your fingers as mine, if you 
 
 29 
 
338 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 have been married nearly a year. It is not a good pulse. You 
 had better take care of her." 
 
 " He takes a great deal too much care of me, doctor," I cried. 
 " Do not make him think I am an invalid, or he will make a 
 complete hothouse plant of me." 
 
 " Who ever saw an invalid with such a color as that ? " asked 
 Ernest. 
 
 "Too bright too mutable," answered the doctor, shaking 
 his head. " She is right. You keep her too close. Let her 
 run wild, like any other country girl. Let her rise early and 
 go out into the barnyard, see the cows milked, inhale their 
 odorous breathings, wander in the fields among the new-mown 
 hay, let her rake it into mounds and throw herself on the fra 
 grant heaps, as I have seen her do when a little school-girl. 
 Let her do just as she pleases, go where she pleases, stay as 
 long as she pleases, in the open air and free sunshine ; and 
 mark my words, she will wear on her cheeks the steady bloom 
 of the milkmaid, instead of the flitting rosiness of the sunset 
 cloud." 
 
 " I am not conscious of imposing so much restraint on her 
 actions as your words imply," said Ernest, a flush of displeasure 
 passing over his pale and anxious countenance. 
 
 " Make her take a ride on horseback every morning and 
 evening," continued Dr. Harlowe, with perfect coolness, without 
 taking any notice of the interruption. " Best exercise in the 
 world. Fine rides for equestrians through the green woods 
 around here. If that does not set her right, carry her to the 
 roaring Falls of Niagara, or the snowy hills of New Hamp 
 shire, or the Catskill Mountains, or the Blue Ridge. I cannot 
 let the flower of the village droop and fade." 
 
 As he finished the sentence, the merry tones of his voice be 
 came grave and subdued. He spoke as one having the author 
 ity of science and experience, as well as the privilege of affec 
 tion. I looked down to hide the moisture that glistened in my 
 eyes. 
 
 " How would you like to travel as the doctor has suggested, 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 339 
 
 Gabriella?" asked Ernest, who seemed much moved by the 
 doctor s remarks. " You know I would go to " 
 
 " Nova Zembla, if she wished it," interrupted the doctor, " but 
 that is too far and too cold. Begin with a shorter journey. I 
 wish I could accompany you, but I cannot plead as an excuse 
 my wife s delicacy of constitution. Her health is as uniform 
 as her temper ; and even if life and death were at stake, she 
 would not leave her housekeeping in other hands. Neither 
 would she close her doors and turn her locks, lest moth and rust 
 should corrupt, and thieves break in and steal. But pardon me, 
 I have given you no opportunity to answer your husband s ques 
 tion." 
 
 " I shall only feel too happy to avail myself of his unneces 
 sary fears with regard to my health," I answered. " It will be 
 a charming way of passing the summer, if Mrs. Linwood and 
 Edith will consent." 
 
 Dr. Harlowe accompanied us home, and nothing was talked 
 of but the intended journey. The solicitude of Ernest was 
 painfully roused, and he seemed ready to move heaven and 
 earth to facilitate our departure. 
 
 " I am sorry to close Grandison Place in the summer season," 
 said Mrs. Linwood ; " it looks so inhospitable. Besides, I have 
 many friends who anticipate passing the sultry season here." 
 
 " Let them travel with you, if they wish," said the doctor 
 bluntly. " That is no reason why you should stay at home." 
 
 "Poor Madge!" cried Edith, who was delighted with the 
 arrangement the docter had suggested. " She will be so disap 
 pointed." 
 
 " Let her come," said Dr. Harlowe. " I will take charge of 
 the wild-cat, and if I find her too mighty for me, I will get Mr. 
 Regulus to assist me in keeping her in order. Let her come, 
 by all means." 
 
 " Supposing we write and ask her to accompany us," said 
 Mrs. Linwood. " Her exuberant spirits will be subdued by the 
 exercise of travelling, and she may prove a most exhilarating 
 companion." 
 
 "What, four ladies to one gentleman!" exclaimed Edith. 
 
340 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 " Poor Ernest ! when lie will have thoughts and eyes but for 
 
 one i 
 
 " I would sooner travel with the Falls of Niagara, or the 
 boiling springs of Geyser," cried Ernest, with an instinctive 
 shudder. " We should have to take a carpenter, a glazier, an 
 upholsterer, and a seamstress, to repair the ruins she would 
 strew in our path." 
 
 " If Richard Clyde were about to return a little earlier in the 
 season," said the doctor, looking at Edith, " he would be a de 
 lightful acquisition to your party. He would divide with your 
 brother the heavy responsibility of being the guardian of so 
 many household treasures." 
 
 " Let us start as early as possible," exclaimed Ernest. The 
 name of Richard Clyde was to his impatient, jealous spirit, as is 
 the rowel to the fiery steed. 
 
 " And what will become of all our beautiful flowers, and our 
 rich, ripening fruit ?" I asked. " Must they waste their sweet 
 ness and value on the unappreciating air ? " 
 
 " I think we must make Dr. Harlowe and Mr. Regulus the 
 guardians and participators of both," said Mrs. Linwood. 
 
 " Give him the flowers, and leave the fruit to me," cried Dr. 
 Harlowe, emphatically. 
 
 " That the sick, the poor, and the afflicted may be benefited 
 by the act," replied Mrs. Linwood. " Let it be so, Doctor, 
 and may many a blessing which has once been mine, reward 
 your just and generous distribution of the abounding riches 
 of Grandison Place." 
 
 I left one sacred charge with the preceptor of my child 
 hood. 
 
 " Let not the flowers and shrubbery around my mother s 
 grave, and the grave of Peggy, wilt and die for want of care." 
 
 " They shall not. They shall be tenderly and carefully 
 nurtured." 
 
 " And if Margaret comes during our absence, be kind and 
 attentive to her, for my sake, Mr. Regulus." 
 
 " I will ! I will ! and for her own too. The wild girl has a 
 heart, I believe she has ; a good and honest heart." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 341 
 
 " You discovered it during your homeward journey from 
 New York. I thought you would," said I, pleased to see a 
 flush light up the student s olive cheek. I thought of the sen 
 sible Benedict and the wild Beatrice, and the drama of other 
 lives passed before the eye of imagination. 
 
 Gloomy must the walls of Grandison Place appear during the 
 absence of its inmates, that city set upon a hill that could 
 not be hid, whose illuminated windows glittered on the vale be 
 low with beacon splendor, and discoursed of genial hospitality 
 and kindly charity to the surrounding shadows. Sadly must 
 the evening gale sigh through the noble oaks, whose branches 
 met over the winding avenue, and lonely the elm-tree wave its 
 hundred arms above the unoccupied seat, that seat, beneath 
 whose breezy shade I had first beheld the pale, impassioned, and 
 haunting face of Ernest Lin wood. 
 
 29* 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 IT is not my intention to describe our journey ; and I fear it will 
 indeed be an act of supererogation to attempt to give an idea of 
 those majestic Falls, whose grandeur and whose glory have so 
 long been the theme of the painter s pencil and the poet s lyre. 
 Never shall I forget the moment when my spirit plunged into 
 the roar and the foam, the thunders and the rainbows of Ni 
 agara. I paused involuntarily a hundred paces from the brink 
 of the cataract. I was about to realize one of the magnifi 
 cent dreams of my youthful imagination. I hesitated and 
 trembled. I felt something of the trepidation, the blissful tre 
 mor that agitated my whole being when Ernest asked me into 
 the moonlight garden at Cambridge, and I thought he was going 
 to tell me that he loved me. The emotions I was about to ex 
 perience would never come again, and I knew when once past 
 could never be anticipated as now, with indescribable awe. I 
 felt something as Moses did when he stood in the hollow of 
 the rock, as the glory of the Lord was about to pass by. And 
 surely no grander exhibition of God s glory ever burst on mor 
 tal eye, than this mighty volume of water, rushing, roaring, 
 plunging, boiling, foaming, tossing its foam like snow into the 
 face of heaven, throwing up rainbow after rainbow from un 
 fathomable abysses, then sinking gradually into a sluggish calm, 
 as if exhausted by the stupendous efforts it had made. 
 
 Clinging to the arm of Ernest, I drew nearer and nearer, till 
 all personal fear was absorbed in a sense of overpowering mag 
 nificence. I was a part of that glorious cataract; I partici 
 pated in the mighty struggle ; I panted with the throes of the 
 pure, dark, tremendous element, vassal at once and conqueror 
 
 (342) 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 343 
 
 of man ; triumphed in the gorgeous arcs-en del that rested 
 like angels of the Lord above the mist and the foam and the 
 thunders of watery strife, and reposed languidly with the sub 
 siding waves that slept like weary warriors after the din and 
 strife of battle, the frown of contention lingering on their brows, 
 and the smile of disdain still curling their lips. 
 
 Oh, how poor, how weak seemed the conflict of human pas 
 sion in the presence of this sublime, this wondrous spectacle ! I 
 could not speak, I could scarcely breathe, I was borne 
 down, overpowered, almost annihilated. My knees bent, my 
 hands involuntarily clasped themselves over the arm of Ernest, 
 and in this attitude of intense adoration I looked up and whis 
 pered, " God, eternity." 
 
 " Enthusiast ! " exclaimed he ; but his countenance was 
 luminous with the light that glowed on mine. He put his arm 
 around me, but did not attempt to raise me. Edith and her 
 mother were near, in company with a friend who had been our 
 fellow-traveller from New England, and who had extended 
 his journey beyond its prescribed limits for the sake of being 
 our companion. I looked towards Edith with tremulous in 
 terest. As she stood leaning on her crutches, her garments 
 fluttering in the breeze, I almost expected to see her borne from 
 us like down upon the wind, and floating on the bosom of that 
 mighty current. 
 
 I said I did not mean to attempt a description of scenes 
 which have baffled the genius and eloquence of man. 
 
 " Now I am content to die ! " said an ancient traveller, when 
 the colossal shadow of the Egyptian pyramids first fell on his 
 weary frame. But what are those huge, unmoving monuments 
 of man s ambition, compared to this grandest of creation s mys 
 teries, whose deep and thundering voice is repeating, day after 
 day and night after night, " forever and ever," and whose 
 majestic motion, rushing onward, plunging downward, never 
 pausing, never resting, is emblematic of the sublime march of 
 Deity, from everlasting to everlasting, from eternity to eter 
 nity? 
 
 Shall I ever forget the moment when I stood on Termination 
 
344 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 Rock, beyond which no mortal foot has ever penetrated ? I stood 
 in a shroud of gray mist, wrapping me on every side, abo* 
 below, around. I shuddered, as if the hollow, reverberating 
 murmurs that filled my ears were the knell of the departed sun. 
 That cold, gray mist ; it penetrated the depths of my spirit ; it 
 drenched, drowned it, filled it with vague, ghost-like images of 
 dread and horror. I cast one glance behind, and saw a gleam 
 of heaven s sunny blue, one bright dazzling gleam flashing be 
 tween the rugged rock and the rushing waters. It was as if 
 the veil of the temple of nature were rent, and the glory of 
 God shone through the fissure. 
 
 " Let us return," said I to Ernest. " I feel as if I had passed 
 through the valley of the shadow of death. Is it not sacrilegious 
 to penetrate so deeply into the mysteries of nature ? " 
 
 " Gabriella ! " he exclaimed, his eyes flashing through the 
 shrouding mist like burning stars, " how I wish you felt with 
 me ! Were it possible to build a home on this shelving rock, I 
 would willingly dwell here forever, surrounded by this veiling 
 mist. With you thus clasped in my arms, I could be happy, in 
 darkness and clouds, in solitude and dreariness, anywhere, every 
 where, with the conviction that you loved me, and that you 
 looked for happiness alone to me." 
 
 " At this moment," I answered, drawing more closely to him, 
 " I feel as if I would rather stay here and die, than return to the 
 world and mingle in its jarring elements. I would far rather, 
 Ernest, make my winding-sheet of those cold, unfathomable 
 waters, than live to feel again the anguish of being doubted by 
 you." 
 
 " That is all past, my Gabriella, all past. My nature is re 
 newed and purified. I feel within me new-born strength and 
 power of resistance. By the God of yon roaring cataract " 
 
 " No, no, Ernest, do not promise, I dare not hear you : 
 we are so weak, and temptations are so strong." 
 
 " Do you distrust yourself, or me ? " 
 
 u Both, Ernest. I never, never felt how poor and vain and 
 frail we are, till I stood, as now, in the presence of the power 
 of the Almighty." 
 
ERNEST LINTVOOD. 345 
 
 His countenance changed instantaneously. " To what temp 
 tations do you allude ? " he asked. " I can imagine none that 
 could shake my fidelity to you. My constancy is as firm as this 
 rock. Those rushing waves could not move it. Why do you 
 check a vow which I dare to make in the very face of Omnipo 
 tence ? " 
 
 " I doubt not your faith or constancy, most beloved Ernest ; 
 I doubt not my own. You know what I do fear, misconstruc 
 tion and suspicion. But let us not speak, let us not think of 
 the past. Let us look forward to the future, with true and 
 earnest spirits, praying God to help us in weakness and error. 
 Only think, Ernest, we have that within us more mighty than 
 that descending flood. These souls of ours will still live in im 
 mortal youth, when that whelming tide ceases to roll, when the 
 firmament shrivels like a burning scroll. I never realized it so 
 fully, so grandly, as now. I shall carry from this rock something 
 I did not bring. I have received a baptism standing here, purer 
 than fire, gentle as dew, yet deep and pervading as ocean. I 
 cannot describe what I mean, but I feel it. Before .1 came, it 
 seemed as if a great wall of adamant rose between me and 
 heaven ; now there is nothing but this veil of mist." 
 
 As we turned to leave this region of blinding spray and mys 
 terious shadows, Ernest repeated, in his most melodious accents, 
 a passage from Schiller s magnificent poem of the diver. 
 
 "And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars, 
 
 As when fire is with water commixed and contending ; 
 And the spray of its wrath to the welkin upsoars, 
 And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending. 
 And it never will rest, nor from travail be free, 
 Like a sea, that is laboring the birth of a sea." 
 
 Never did I experience a more exultant emotion than when 
 we emerged into the clear air and glorious sunshine, when I 
 felt the soft, rich, green grass beneath, and the blue illimitable 
 heavens smiling above. I had come out of darkness into mar 
 vellous light. I was drenched with light as I had previously 
 been by the cold, gray mist. I remembered another verse of 
 the immortal poem I had learned from the lips of Ernest : 
 
346 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 " Happy they, whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice, 
 
 The air and the sky that to mortals are given ; 
 May the horror below never more find a voice, 
 
 Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of heaven. 
 Never more, never more may he lift from the sight 
 The veil which is woven with terror and ni^ht." 
 
CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 AMID the rainbows of the cataract, Edith s heart caught the 
 first glowing tinge of romance. 
 
 "VVe were wandering along the path that zones the beautiful 
 island, whose name, unpoetic as it is, recalls one of the brilliant 
 constellations of the zodiac ; and Edith had seated herself on a 
 rustic bench, under the massy dome of a spreading beech, and, 
 taking off her bonnet, suffered her hair to float according to its 
 own wild will on the rising breeze. 
 
 She did not observe a young man at a little distance, leaning 
 back against an aged birch, on whose silvery bark the dark out 
 lines of his figure were finely daguerreotyped. He was the 
 beau ideal of an artist, with his long brown hair carelessly 
 pushed back from his white temples, his portfolio in his left 
 hand, his pencil in his right, and his dark, restless eyes glancing 
 round him with the fervor of enthusiasm, while they beamed 
 with the inspiration of genius. He was evidently sketching the 
 scene, which with bold, rapid lines he was transferring to the 
 paper. All at once his gaze was fixed on Edith, and he seemed 
 spellbound. I did not wonder, for a lovelier, more ethereal 
 object never arrested the glance of admiration. Again his 
 pencil moved, and I knew he was attempting to delineate her 
 features. I was fearful lest she should move and dissolve the 
 charm ; but she sat as still as the tree, whose gray trunk formed 
 an artistic background to her slight figure. 
 
 As soon as Ernest perceived the occupation of the young 
 artist, he made a motion towards Edith, but I laid my hand on 
 his arm. 
 
 " Do not," I said ; " she will make such a beautiful picture." 
 
 (347) 
 
348 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 " I do not like that a stranger should take so great a liberty," 
 he replied, in an accent of displeasure. 
 
 " Forgive the artist," I pleaded, " for the sake of the temp 
 tation." 
 
 The young man, perceiving that he was observed, blushed 
 with the most ingenuous modesty, took up his hat that was lying 
 on the grass, put his paper and pencil in his portfolio, and 
 walked away into the wilderness of stately and majestic trees, 
 that rose dome within dome, pillar within pillar, like a grand 
 cathedral. We followed slowly in the beaten path, througli the 
 dark green maples, the bright-leaved luxuriant beech trees, and 
 the quivering aspens, whose trembling leaves seem instinct with 
 human sensibility. And all the time we wandered through the 
 magnificent aisles of the island, the deep roar of the cataract, 
 like the symphony of a great organ, rolled solemnly through 
 the leafy solitude, and mingled with the rustling of the forest 
 boughs. 
 
 In the evening the young artist sought an introduction to our 
 party. His name was Julian, and had the advantage of roman 
 tic association. I was glad that Ernest gave him a cordial re 
 ception, for I was extremely prepossessed in his favor. Even 
 the wild idea that he might be my unknown brother, had entered 
 my mind. I remembered Mrs. Linwood s advice too well to ex 
 press it. I even tried to banish it, as absurd and irrational ; 
 but it would cling to me, and gave an interest to the young 
 stranger which, though I dared not manifest, I could not help 
 feeling. Fortunately his undisguised admiration of Edith was 
 a safeguard to me. He was too artless to conceal it, yet too 
 modest to express it. It was evinced by the mute eloquence of 
 eyes that gazed upon her, as on a celestial being ; and the lis 
 tening ear, that seemed to drink in the lowest sound of her 
 sweet, low voice. He was asked to exhibit his sketches, which 
 were pronounced bold, splendid, and masterly. 
 
 Edith was leaning on her brother s shoulder, when she re 
 cognized her own likeness, most faithfully and gracefully ex 
 ecuted. She started, blushed, and looked towards young Julian, 
 whose expressive eyes were riveted on her face, as if deprecat- 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 349 
 
 ing her displeasure. There were no traces of it on her lovely 
 countenance ; even a smile played on her lips, at the faint refleo 
 tion of her own loveliness. 
 
 And thus commenced an acquaintance, or I might say an 
 attachment, as sudden and romantic as is ever described in the 
 pages of the novelist. As soon as the diffidence that veiled 
 his first introduction wore away, he called forth his peculiar 
 powers of pleasing, and Edith was not insensible to their fas 
 cination. Since her brother s marriage, she had felt a vacuum 
 in her heart, which often involved her in a soft cloud of pen- 
 siveness. She was unthroned, and like an uncrowned queen 
 she sighed over the remembrance of. her former royalty. It 
 was not strange that the devotion of Julian, the enthusiasm of 
 his character, the fervor of his language, the ardor, the grace 
 of his manner, should have captivated her imagination and 
 touched her heart. I never saw any one so changed in so 
 short a time. The contrast was almost as great, to her former 
 self, as between a placid silver lake, and the foam of the torrent 
 sparkling and flashing with rainbows. Her countenance had 
 lost its air of divine repose, and varied with every emotion of 
 her soul. She was a thousand times more beautiful, and I 
 loved her far more than I had ever done before. There was 
 something unnatural in her exclusive, jealous love of her 
 brother, but now she acknowledged the supremacy of the great 
 law of woman s destiny. Like a flower, suddenly shaken by a 
 southern gale, and giving out the most delicious perfumes un 
 known before, her heart fluttered and expanded and yielded 
 both its hidden sweetnesses. 
 
 " We must not encourage him," said Mrs. Linwood to her 
 son. " We do not know who he is ; we do not know his family 
 or his lineage ; we must withdraw Edith from the influence of 
 his fascinations." 
 
 I did not blame her, but I felt the sting to my heart s core. 
 She saw the wound she had unconsciously made, and hastened 
 to apply a balm. 
 
 " The husband either exalts, or lowers, a wife to the position 
 he occupies," said she, looking kindly at me. " She loses her 
 
 30 
 
350 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 own identity in his. Poverty would present no obstacle, for she 
 has wealth sufficient to be disinterested, but my daughter 
 must take a stainless name, if she relinquish her own. But 
 why do I speak thus ? My poor, crippled child ! She has dis 
 owned the thought of marriage. She has chosen voluntarily an 
 unwedded lot. She does not, cannot, will not think with any 
 peculiar interest of this young stranger. No, no, my Edith is 
 set apart by her misfortunes, as some enshrined and holy being, 
 whom man must vainly love." 
 
 I had never seen Mrs. Linwood so much agitated. Her eyes 
 glistened, her voice faltered with emotion. Ernest, too, seemed 
 greatly troubled. They had both been accustomed to look upon 
 Edith as consecrated to a vestal life ; and as she had hitherto 
 turned coldly and decidedly from the addresses of men, they be 
 lieved her inaccessible to the vows of love and the bonds of 
 wedlock. The young Julian was a poet as well as an artist; his 
 pictures were considered masterpieces of genius in the painting 
 galleries of the cities ; he was, as report said, and as he himself 
 modestly but decidedly affirmed, by birth and education a gen 
 tleman ; he had the prestige of a rising fame, but he was a 
 stranger. I remembered my mother s history, and the youth of 
 St. James seemed renewed in this interesting young man. I trem 
 bled for the future happiness of Edith, who, whatever might be 
 her decision with regard to marriage, now unmistakably and 
 romantically loved. Again I asked myself, "might not this 
 young man be the son of the unfortunate Theresa, who under 
 an assumed name was concealing the unhappy circumstances of 
 his birth ? " 
 
 " Let us leave this place," said Ernest, " and put a stop at 
 once to the danger we dread. Are you willing, Gabriella, to 
 quit these sublime Falls to-morrow?" 
 
 " I shall carry them with me," I answered, laughingly. " They 
 are henceforth a part of my own being." 
 
 " They will prove rather an inconvenient accompaniment," 
 replied he ; " and if we turn our face on our return to the White 
 Mountains, will you bring them back also ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Take me the whole world over, and every thing 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD, 351 
 
 of beauty and sublimity will cling to my soul inseparably and 
 forever." 
 
 " Will you ask Edith, if she will be ready ? " 
 
 She was in the room which she occupied with her mother, 
 and there I sought her. She was reading what seemed to be a 
 letter ; but as I approached her I saw that it was poetry, and 
 from her bright blushes, I imagined it an effusion of young 
 Julian s. She did not conceal it, but looked up with such a ra 
 diant expression of joy beaming through a shade of bashfulness, 
 I shrunk from the task imposed upon me. 
 
 " Dear Edith," said I, laying my hand on her beautiful hair, 
 " your brother wishes to leave here to-morrow. Will you be 
 ready ? " 
 
 She started, trembled, then turned aside her face, but I could 
 see the starting tear and the deepened blush. 
 
 " Of course I will," she answered, after a moment s pause. 
 " It is far better that we should go, I know it is, but it 
 would have been better still, had we never come." 
 
 " And why, my darling sister ? You have seemed very 
 happy." 
 
 " Too happy, Gabriella. All future life must pay the penalty 
 due to a brief infatuation. I have discovered and betrayed the 
 weakness, the madness of my heart. I know too well why 
 Ernest has hastened our departure." 
 
 " Dearest Edith," said I, sitting down by her and taking her 
 hand in both mine, " do not reproach yourself for a sensibility 
 so natural, so innocent, nay more, so noble. Do not, from mis 
 taken delicacy, sacrifice your own happiness, and that of another, 
 which is, I firmly believe, forever intertwined with it. Confide 
 in your mother, confide in your brother, who think you have 
 made a solemn resolution to live a single life. They do not 
 know this young man ; but give them an opportunity of knowing 
 him. Cast him not off, if you love him ; for I \vould almost 
 stake my life upon his integrity and honor." 
 
 " Blessings, Gabriella, for this generous confidence ! " she ex 
 claimed, throwing her arms round me, with all the impulsive 
 ness of childhood; "but it is all in vain. Do you think I 
 
352 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 would take advantage of Julian s uncalculating love, and entail 
 upon him for life the support and guardianship of this frail, 
 helpless form ? Do you think I would hang a dead, dull weight 
 on the wings of his young ambition ? Oh, no ! You do not 
 know me, Gabriella." 
 
 " I know you have very wrong views of yourself," I answered ; 
 " and I fear you will do great wrong to others, if you do not 
 change them. You are not helpless. No bird of the wild- 
 wood wings their way more fearlessly and lightly than yourself 
 You are not frail now. Health glows on your cheek and beams 
 in your eye. You cling to a resolution conceived in early 
 youth, before you recovered from the effects of a painful 
 malady. A dull weight! Why, Edith, you would rest like 
 down on his mounting wings. You would give them a more 
 heavenly flight. Do not, beloved Edith, indulge these morbid 
 feelings. There is a love, stronger, deeper than a sister s affec 
 tion. You feel it now. You forgive me for loving Ernest. 
 You forgive him for loving me. I believe Julian worthy of 
 your heart. Give him hope, give him time, and he will come 
 erelong, crowned with laurels, and lay them smiling at your 
 feet." 
 
 " Dear, inspiring Gabriella ! " she exclaimed, " you infuse 
 new life and joy into my inmost soul. I feel as if I could dis 
 card these crutches and walk on air. No ; I am not helpless. 
 If there was need, I could toil for him I loved with all a 
 woman s zeal. These hands could minister to his necessities, 
 this heart be a shield and buckler in the hour of danger. 
 Thank Heaven, I am lifted above want, and how blest to share 
 the gifts of fortune with one they would so nobly grace ! But 
 do you really think that I ought to indulge such dreams ? Am 
 not I a cripple ? Has not God set a mark upon me ? " 
 
 " No, you shall not call yourself one. You are only lifted 
 above the gross earth, because you are more angelic than the 
 rest of us. I hear your mother s coming footsteps ; I will leave 
 you together, that you may reveal to her all that is passing in 
 your heart." 
 
 I left her ; and as I passed Mrs. Linwood on the stairs, and 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 353 
 
 met her anxious eyes, I said : " Edith has the heart of a woman. 
 I know by my own experience how gently you will deal with 
 it." 
 
 She kissed me without speaking ; but I read in her expres 
 sive countenance that mingled look of grief and resignation 
 with which we follow a friend to that bourne where we cannot 
 follow them. Edith was lost to her. She was willing to for 
 sake her mother for the stranger s home, she who seemed 
 bound to her by the dependence of childhood, as well as the 
 close companionship of riper years. I read this in her sad 
 dened glance ; but I did not deem her selfish. Other feelings, 
 too, doubtless blended with her own personal regrets. She had 
 no reason to look upon marriage as a state of perfect felicity. 
 Her own had been unhappy. She knew the dark phantom that 
 haunted our wedded hours ; and what if the same hereditary 
 curse should cling to Edith, who might become morbidly sen 
 sitive on account of her personal misfortune ? 
 
 Knowing it was the last evening of our stay, I felt as if 
 every moment were lost, passed within doors. It seemed to 
 me, now, as if I had literally seen nothing, so stupendously did 
 images of beauty and grandeur grow upon my mind, and so 
 consciously and surprisingly did my mind expand to receive 
 them. 
 
 The hour of sunset approached, the last sunset that I 
 should behold, shining in golden glory on the sheeted foam of 
 the Falls. And then I saw, what I never expect to witness 
 again, till I see the eternal rainbows round about the throne of 
 God, three entire respondent circles, one glowing with seven 
 fold beams within the other, full, clear, distinct as the starry 
 stripes of our country s banner, no fracture in the smooth, 
 majestic curves, no dimness in the gorgeous dyes. 
 
 And moonlight, moonlight on the Falls ! I have read of 
 moonlight on the ruins of the Coliseum ; in the mouldering re 
 mains of Grecian elegance and Roman magnificence ; but what 
 is it compared to this ? The eternal youth, the undecaying 
 grandeur of nature, illumined by that celestial light which lends 
 
 30* 
 
354 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 glory to ruins, and throws the illusion of beauty over the fea 
 tures of decay ! 
 
 Edith wandered with Julian in the stilly moonlight, and their 
 low voices were heard by each other amid the din of the roar 
 ing cataract. 
 
 Ernest was troubled. He was jealous even of a sister s love, 
 and looked coldly on the aspiring Julian. 
 
 " He must prove himself worthy of Edith," he said. " He 
 must not follow her to Grandison Place, till he can bring cre 
 dentials, establishing his claims to confidence and regard." 
 
 Before we parted at night Edith drew me aside, and told 
 me that her mother had consented to leave the decision of her 
 destiny to time., which would either prove Julian s claims to 
 her love, or convince her that he was unworthy of her regard. 
 He was not permitted to accompany her home ; but she was sure 
 he would follow, with testimonials, such as a prince need not 
 blush to own. 
 
 "How strange, how very strange it seems," she said, her 
 eyes beaming with that soft and sunny light w r hich comes from 
 the dayspring of the heart, " for me to look forward to a future 
 such as now I see, through a flowery vista of hope and love. 
 How strange, that in so short a time so mighty a change should 
 be wrought ! Had Ernest remained single, my heart would 
 have known no vacuum, so entirely did he fill, so exclusively 
 did he occupy it. But since his marriage it has seemed a 
 lonely temple with a deserted shrine. Julian has strewed 
 flowers upon the altar, and their fragrance has perfumed my life. 
 Even if they wither, their odor will remain and shed sweetness 
 over my dying hour." 
 
 Sweet, angelic Edith! may no untimely blight fall on thy 
 garland of love, no thorns be found with its glowing blossoms, 
 no canker-worm of jealousy feed on their early bloom. 
 
 The morning of our departure, as I looked back where 
 Julian stood, pale and agitated, following the receding form of 
 Edith, with a glance of the most intense emotion, I saw a gen 
 tleman approach the pillar against which he was leaning, whose 
 appearance riveted my attention. He was a stranger, who had 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 355 
 
 probably arrived the evening before, and, preoccupied as Julian 
 was, he extended his hand eagerly to meet the grasp of his. 
 He was tall, much taller than Julian, and of a very stately 
 mien. He looked as if he might be in the meridian of life, and 
 yet his hair, originally black, was mingled with snowy locks 
 around the temples, and on the crown of his head. I saw this 
 as he lifted his hat on approaching Julian, with the firm, proud 
 step which indicates intellectual power. "What was there about 
 this stranger that haunted me long after the thunders of the 
 cataract had ceased to reverberate on the ear ? Where had I 
 seen a countenance and figure resembling his ? Why did I 
 feel an irresistible desire to check the rolling wheels that bore 
 me every moment further from that stately form with its crown 
 of living snow ? 
 
 " How long will you remain in that uncomfortable position ? " 
 asked Ernest. The spell was broken. I turned, and met the 
 glance that needed no explanation. This earnest scrutiny of 
 a stranger excited his displeasure ; and I did not wonder, when 
 I thought of the strange fascination I had experienced. I 
 blushed, and drew my veil over my face, resolving henceforth 
 to set a guard over my eyes as well as my lips, It was the first 
 dark-flashing glance I had met since I had left Grandison 
 Place. It was the last expiring gleam of a baleful flame. I 
 knew it must be ; and, leaning back in the carriage, I sunk into 
 one of those reveries which I used to indulge in childhood, 
 when the gates of sunset opened to admit my wandering 
 spirit, and the mysteries of cloud-land were revealed to the 
 dream-giii s eye. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE very evening after our return, while Dr. Harlowe was 
 giving an account of his stewardship, and congratulating Edith 
 and myself on the bloom and animation we had acquired, a 
 gentleman was announced, and Richard Clyde entered. The 
 heartfelt, joyous welcome due to the friend who is just returned 
 from a foreign land, greeted his entrance. Had I known of his 
 coming, I might have repressed the pleasure that now spon 
 taneously rose ; but I forgot every thing at this moment, but 
 the companion of my childhood, the sympathizing mourner by 
 my mother s grave, the unrequited lover, but the true and con 
 stant friend. He was so much improved in person and man 
 ners ; he was so self-possessed, so manly, so frank, so cordial ! 
 He came among us like a burst of sunshine ; and we all all 
 but owe felt his genial influence. He came into the family 
 like a long absent son and brother. Why could not Ernest have 
 welcomed him as such ? Why did he repel with coldness and 
 suspicion the honest, ingenuous heart that longed to meet his with 
 fraternal warmth and confidence? I could not help drawing 
 comparisons unfavorable to Ernest. He, who had travelled 
 through the same regions, who had drank of the same inspiring 
 streams of knowledge as the young student, who came fresh 
 and buoyant from the classic halls where he had himself gained 
 honor and distinction, he, sat cold and reserved, while Richard 
 dispensed life and brightness on all around. 
 
 " Oh, how much this is like home ! " he exclaimed, when the 
 lateness of the hour compelled him to depart ; " how happy, 
 how grateful I am, to meet so kind, so dear a welcome. It 
 
 (356) 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 357 
 
 warmed my heart, in anticipation, beyond the Atlantic waves. 
 I remembered the maternal kindness that cheered and sustained 
 me in my collegiate probation, and blessed my dawning man 
 hood. I remembered Edith s heavenly music, and Gabri- 
 
 He had become so excited by the recollections he was cloth 
 ing in words, that he lost the command of his voice as soon as 
 he mentioned my name. Perhaps the associations connected 
 with it were more powerful than he imagined ; but whatever 
 was the cause he stopped abruptly, bowed, and left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood followed him into the passage, and I heard her 
 telling him that he must consider Grandison Place his home 
 indeed, for she felt that she had welcomed back another be 
 loved son. She was evidently hurt by the chilling reserve of 
 Ernest s manners, and wished to make up for it by the cordial 
 warmth of her own. 
 
 " There goes as fine a youth as ever quickened the- pulses of 
 a maiden s heart," said Dr. Harlowe, as Richard s quick steps 
 were heard on the gravel walk ; " I am proud of him, we all 
 ought to be proud of him. He is a whole-souled, whole-hearted, 
 right-minded young man, worth a dozen of your fashionable 
 milk-sops. He is a right down splendid fellow. I cannot imag 
 ine why this sly little puss was so blind to his merits ; but I 
 suppose the greater glory dimmed the less." 
 
 Good, excellent Dr. Harlowe ! Why was he always saying 
 something to rouse the slumbering serpent in the bosom of Er 
 nest ? Slumbering, did I say ? Alas ! it was already awak 
 ened, and watching for its prey. The doctor had the simplicity 
 of a child, but the shrewdness of a man. Had he dreamed of the 
 suffering Ernest s unfortunate temperament caused, he would 
 have blistered his tongue sooner than have given me a moment s 
 pain. He suspected him of jealousy, of the folly, not the mad 
 ness of jealousy, and mischievously liked to sport with a weak 
 ness which he supposed evaporated with the cloud of the brow, 
 or vanished in the lightning of the eye. He little imagined the 
 stormy gust that swept over us after his departure. 
 
 " Mother ! " exclaimed Ernest, as soon as the doctor had 
 
358 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 closed the door, in a tone which I had never heard him use to 
 her before, " I will no longer tolerate that man s impertinence 
 and presumption. He never comes here that he does not utter 
 insulting words, which no gentleman should allow in his own 
 house. It is not the first, nor the second, nor the third time 
 that he has insulted me through my wife. His superior age, 
 and your profound respect for him, shall no longer prevent the 
 expression of my indignation. I shall let him know on what 
 terms he ever again darkens this threshold/ 
 
 " Ernest ! " cried his mother, with a look in which indignation 
 and grief struggled for mastery, " do you forget that it is your 
 mother whom you are addressing ? that it is her threshold 
 not yours on which you have laid this withering ban ? " 
 
 " Had not Dr. Harlowe been your friend, and this house 
 yours, I should have told him my sentiments long since ; but 
 while I would not forget my respect as a son, I must remember 
 my dignity as a husband, and I will allow no man to treat my 
 wife with the familiarity he uses, polluting her wedded ears 
 with allusions to her despairing lovers, and endeavoring indi 
 rectly to alienate her affections from me." 
 
 " Stop, Ernest, you are beside yourself," said Mrs. Linwood, 
 and the mounting color in her face deepened to crimson, " you 
 shall not thus asperse a good and guileless man. Your insane 
 passion drives you from reason, from honor, and from right. It 
 dwarfs the fair proportions of your mind, and deforms its moral 
 beauty. I have been wrong, sinful, weak, in yielding to your 
 infirmity, and trying by every gentle and persuasive means to 
 lead you into the green pastures and by the still waters of do 
 mestic peace. I have counselled Gabriella, when I have seen 
 her young heart breaking under the weight of your suspicions, 
 to bow meekly and let the storm pass over her. But I do so no 
 more. I will tell her to stand firm and undaunted, and breast 
 the tempest. I will stand by her side, and support her in my 
 arms, and shield her with my breast. Come, Gabriella, come, 
 my child ; if my son will be unjust, will be insane, I will at least 
 protect you from the consequences of his guilty rashness." 
 
 I sprang into her arms that opened to enfold me, and hid my 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 359 
 
 face on her breast. I could not bear to look upon the humilia 
 tion of Ernest, who stood like one transfixed by his mother s 
 rebuking glance. I trembled like an aspen, there was some 
 thing so fearful in the roused indignation of one usually so 
 calm and self-possessed. Edith sunk upon a seat in a passion 
 of tears, and " oh, brother ! oh, mother ! " burst through 
 thick-coming sobs from her quivering lips. 
 
 " Mother ! " exclaimed Ernest, and his voice sounded hol 
 low and unnatural, "I have reason to be angry, I do not 
 deserve this stern rebuke, you know not how much I have 
 borne and forborne for your sake. But if my mother teaches 
 that rebellion to my will is a wife s duty, it is time indeed that 
 we should part." 
 
 " Oh, Ernest ! " cried Edith ; " oh, my brother ! you will 
 break my heart." 
 
 And rising, she seemed to fly to his side, and throwing her 
 arms round his neck, she lifted up her voice and wept aloud. 
 
 " Hush, my daughter, hush, Edith," said her mother. " I 
 wish my son to hear me, and if they were the last words 1 ever/ 
 expected to utter, they could not be more solemn. I have 
 loved you, Ernest, with a love bordering on idolatry, with a 
 pride most sinful in a Christian parent, but even the strength 
 of a mother s love will yield at last before the stormy passions 
 that desolate her home. The spirit of the Spartan mother, 
 who told her son when he left her for the battle field, to return 
 with his shield, or on it, animates my bosom. I had far, far 
 rather weep over the grave of my son, than live to blush for his 
 degeneracy." 
 
 " Arid I would far rather be in my grave, this moment," he 
 answered, in the same hoarse, deep undertone, " than suffer 
 the agonies of the last few hours. Let me die, let me die at 
 once ; then take this young man to your bosom, where he has 
 already supplanted me. Make him your son in a twofold 
 sense, for, by the heaven that hears me, I believe you would 
 bless the hour that gave him the right to Gabriella s love." 
 
 " Father, forgive him, he knows not what he utters," mur 
 mured his mother, lifting her joined hands to heaven. I 
 
360 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 still clung to her in trembling awe, forgetting my own sorrow 
 in the depth and sacredness of hers. " Ernest," she said, in a 
 louder tone, " I cannot continue this painful scene. I will go to 
 my own chamber and pray for you ; pray for your release from 
 the dominion of the powers of darkness. Oh, my son ! I 
 tremble for you. You are standing on the brink of a terrible 
 abyss. The fiend that lurked in the bowers of Eden, and made 
 its flowers dim with the smoke of fraternal blood, is whispering 
 in your ear. Beware, my son, beware. Every sigh and tear 
 caused by the indulgence of unhallowed passion, cries as loud to 
 Almighty God for vengeance as Abel s reeking blood. Come, 
 Gabriella, I leave him to reflection and prayer. I leave him to 
 God and his own soul. Come, Edith, leave him and follow me." 
 
 There was something so commanding in her accent and man 
 ner I dared not resist her, though I longed to remain and whis 
 per words of peace and love to my unhappy husband. I knew 
 that his soul must be crushed into the dust, and my heart bled 
 for his sufferings. Edith, too, withdrew her clinging arms, for 
 she daTed not disobey her mother, and slowly and sadly followed 
 us up the winding stairs. 
 
 " Go to bed, my child," said she to Edith, when we reached 
 the upper platform. " May God in his mercy spare you from 
 witnessing another scene like this." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! I never shall feel happy again. My poor 
 brother ! you did not see him, mother, when you left him. You 
 did not look upon him, or you could not have left him. There 
 was death on his face. Forgive him, dear mother ! take him 
 back to your heart." 
 
 " And do you think he is not here ? " she exclaimed, pressing 
 her hands on her heart, as if trying to sustain herself under an 
 intense pain. " Do you think he suffers alone ? Do you think 
 I have left him, but for his good ? Do you think I would 
 not now gladly fold him in my arms and bathe his soul in the 
 overflowing tenderness of maternal love ? O child, child ! 
 Earth has no sounding line to fathom the depths of a mother s 
 heart. Good-night. God bless you, my darling Edith." 
 
 "And Gabriella?" 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 361 
 
 " Will remain with me." 
 
 Mrs. Linwood, whose left arm still encircled me, brought me 
 into her chamber, and closed the door. She was excessively 
 pale, and I mechanically gave her a glass of water. She 
 thanked me ; and seating herself at a little table, on which an 
 astral lamp was burning, she began to turn the leaves of a 
 Bible, which always lay there. I observed that her hands 
 trembled and that her lips quivered. 
 
 " There is but one fountain which can refresh the fainting 
 spirit," she said, laying her hand on the sacred volume. " It is 
 the fountain of living waters, which, whosoever will, may drink, 
 and receive immortal strength." 
 
 She turned the leaves, but there was mist over her vision, 
 she could not distinguish the well-known characters. 
 
 " Read for me, my beloved Gabriella," said she, rising and 
 motioning me to the seat she had quitted. " I was looking for 
 the sixty-second Psalm." 
 
 She seated herself in the shadow of the curtain, while I 
 nerved myself for the appointed task. My voice was at first 
 low and tremulous, but as the sound of the words reached my 
 ear, they penetrated my soul, like a strain of solemn music. I 
 felt the divine influence of those breathings of humanity, sanc 
 tified by the inspiration of the Deity. I felt the same con 
 sciousness of man s insignificance as when I listened to Niaga 
 ra s eternal roar. And yet, if God cared for us, there was ex 
 altation and glory in the thought, 
 
 " Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? and why art thou dis 
 quieted within me ? hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise 
 him, who is the health of my countenance and my God." 
 
 " Go on," said Mrs. Linwood, as I paused on this beautiful 
 and consoling verse ; " your voice is sweet, my child, and there 
 is balm in every hallowed word." 
 
 I turned to the ninety-first Psalm, which I had so often read 
 to my own dear mother, and which I had long known by heart ; 
 then the hundred and sixteenth, which was a favorite of Er 
 nest s. My voice faltered. I thought of him in loneliness and 
 anguish, and my tears blotted the sacred lines. We both re- 
 
 31 
 
362 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 mained silent, for the awe of God s spirit was upon us, and the 
 atmosphere made holy by the incense of His breath. 
 
 A low, faint knock at the door. " Come in," said Mrs. Lin- 
 wood, supposing it a servant. She started, when the door 
 opened, and Ernest, pale as a ghost, stood on the threshold. I 
 made a movement towards him, but he did not look at me. His 
 eyes were riveted on his mother, who had half risen at his en 
 trance, but sunk back on her seat. He passed by me, and ap 
 proaching the window where she sat, knelt at her feet, and 
 bowed his head in her lap. 
 
 " Mother," said he, in broken accents, " I come, like the re 
 turning prodigal. I have sinned against Heaven and thee, and 
 am no more worthy to be called thy son, give me but the hire 
 ling s place, provided it be near thy heart." 
 
 " And have I found thee again, my son, my Ernest, my be 
 loved, my only one ? " she cried, bending down and clasping her 
 arms around him. " Heavenly Father ! I thank thee for this 
 hour." 
 
 Never had I loved them both as I did at that moment, when 
 the holy tears of penitence and pardon mingled on their cheeks, 
 and baptized their spirits as in a regenerating shower. My own 
 tears flowed in unison ; but I drew back, feeling as if it were 
 sacrilege to intrude on such a scene. My first impulse was to 
 steal from the room, leaving them to the unwitnessed indulgence 
 of their sacred emotions ; but I must pass them, and I would 
 not that even the hem of my garments should rustle against 
 them. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood was the first to recognize my presence ; she 
 raised her head and beckoned me to approach. As I obeyed 
 her motion, Ernest rose from his knees, and taking my hand, held 
 it for a moment closely, firmly in his own ; he did not embrace 
 me, as he had always done in the transports of reconciliation ; 
 he seemed to hold me from him in that controlling grasp, and 
 there was something thrilling, yet repelling, in the dark depths 
 of his eyes that held me bound to the spot where I stood. 
 
 " Remain with my mother, Gabriella," said he ; "I give you 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 363 
 
 brfCit ? her guardianship, till I have done penance for the sins 
 of this night. The lips that have dared to speak to a mother, 
 and such a mother, the words of bitterness and passion, are un 
 worthy to receive the pledge of love. My eyes are opened to 
 the enormity of my offence, and I abhor myself in dust and 
 ashes ; my spirit shall clothe itself in garments of sackcloth and 
 mourning, and drink of the bitter cup of humiliation. Hear, then, 
 my solemn vow ; nay, my mother, nay, Gabriella, I must, I 
 will speak. My Saviour fasted forty days and forty nights in 
 the wilderness, he, who knew not sin, and shall not I, vile as a 
 malefactor, accursed as a leper, do something to prove my peni 
 tence and self-abasement? For forty days I abjure love, joy, 
 domestic endearments, and social pleasures, I will live on bread 
 and water, I will sleep on the uncarpeted floor, or pass my 
 nights under the canopy of heaven." 
 
 Pale and shuddering I listened to this wild, stem vow, fearing 
 that his reason was forsaking him. No martyr at the stake ever 
 wore an expression of more sublime self-sacrifice. 
 
 "Alas, my son!" exclaimed his mother, "one tear such as 
 you have shed this hour is worth a hundred rash vows. Vain 
 and useless are they as the iron bed, the girdle of steel, the 
 scourge of the fanatic, who expects to force by self-inflicted 
 tortures the gates of heaven to open. Do you realize to what 
 sufferings you are dooming the hearts that love you, and whose 
 happiness is bound up in yours? Do you realize that you are 
 making our home dark and gloomy as the dungeons of the 
 Inquisition ? " 
 
 " Not so, my mother ; Gabriella shall be free as air, free as 
 before she breathed her marriage vows. To your care I commit 
 her. Let not one thought of me cloud the sunshine of the do 
 mestic board, or wither one garland of household joy. I have 
 imposed this penance on myself in expiation of my offences as 
 a son and as a husband. If I am wrong, may a merciful God 
 forgive me. The words are uttered, and cannot be recalled. I 
 cannot add perjury to the dark list of my transgressions. Farewell, 
 mother ; farewell, Gabriella ; pray for me. Your prayers will 
 
864 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 call down ministering angels, who shall come to me in the hour 
 of nature s agony, to relieve and sustain me." 
 
 He left us, closed the door, and passed down the stairs, which 
 gave a faint echo to his retreating footsteps. We looked at each 
 other in grief and amazement, and neither of us spoke for sev 
 eral minutes. 
 
 " My poor, misguided boy ! " at length burst from his mother s 
 pale lips, " I fear I was too harsh, I probed him too deeply, 
 I have driven him to the verge of madness. Oh ! how difficult 
 it is to deal with a spirit so strangely, so unhappily constituted ! 
 I have tried indulgence, and the evil seemed to grow with 
 alarming rapidity. I have exercised a parent s authority, and 
 behold the result. I can do nothing now, but obey his part 
 ing injunction, pray for him." 
 
 She folded her hands across her knees, and looked down in 
 deep, revolving thought. 
 
 Forty days of gloom and estrangement ! Forty days ! Oh ! 
 what a wilderness would life be during those long, long days ! 
 And what was there beyond ? I dared not think. A dreary 
 shadow of coming desolation, like the cold, gray mist which 
 wrapped me as I stood on the rocks of Niagara, hung over the 
 future. Would I lift it if I could ? Oh, no ! Perish tho 
 hand that would anticipate the day of God s revealing. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 ERNEST, faithful to his vow, slept on the floor in the library, 
 and though he sat down at the table with us, he tasted nothing 
 but bread and water. A stranger might not have observed 
 any striking difference in his manners, but he had forbidden 
 himself even the glance of affection, and his eye studiously 
 and severely avoided mine. From the table he returned to the 
 library, and shut himself up till the next bell summoned us to 
 our now joyless and uncomfortable meals. 
 
 I cannot describe the tortures I endured during this season 
 of unnatural and horrible constraint. It sometimes seemed as 
 if I should grow crazy ; and poor Edith was scarcely less un 
 happy. It was now that Mrs. Linwood showed her extraor 
 dinary powers of self-control, her wisdom, and intellectual 
 strength. Calmly and serenely she fulfilled her usual duties, 
 as mistress of her household and benefactress of the village. 
 To visitors and friends she was the same hospitable and charm 
 ing hostess that had thrown such enchantment over the granite 
 walls of Grandison Place. She had marked out the line of 
 duty for Edith and myself, which we tried to follow, but it was 
 often with sinking hearts and faltering footsteps. 
 
 " If Ernest from a mistaken sense of duty has bound himself 
 by a painful and unnatural vow," said she, in that tone of grave 
 sweetness which was so irresistible, " we must not forget the social 
 and domestic duties of life. A threefold responsibility rests upon 
 us, for we must endeavor to bear the burden he has laid down. 
 He must not see the unlimited power he has over our happi 
 ness, a power he is now unconsciously abusing. Smile, my 
 
 31 * (365) 
 
866 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 children,, indulge in all innocent recreations ; let me hear once 
 more your voices echoing on the lawn; let me hear the soothing 
 notes of my Edith s harp ; let me see my Gabriella s fingers 
 weaving as wont, sweet garlands of flowers." 
 
 And now, the house began to be filled up with visitors from 
 the city, who had been anxiously waiting the return of Mrs. 
 Linwood. The character of Ernest for eccentricity and moodi- 
 ness was so well known, that the peculiar situation in which he 
 had placed himself did not attract immediate attention. But I 
 knew I must appear, what I in reality was for the time, a 
 neglected and avoided wife ; and most bitterly, keenly did I 
 suffer in consequence of this impression. In spite of the pain 
 it had caused, I was proud of Ernest s exclusive devotion, and 
 the notice it attracted. I knew I was, by the mortification I 
 experienced, when that devotion was withdrawn. It is true, I 
 knew he was inflicting on himself torments to which the fabled 
 agonies of Tantalus, Sisyphus, and Ixion combined could not be 
 compared ; but others did not ; they saw the averted eye, the 
 coldness, the distance, the estrangement, but they did not, 
 could not see, the bleeding heart, the agonized spirit hidden be 
 neath the veil. 
 
 I ought to mention here the reason that Mr. Kegulus did 
 not come as usual to welcome us on our return. He had been 
 
 appointed professor of mathematics in College, and had 
 
 given up the charge of the academy where he had taught so 
 many years with such indefatigable industry and distinguished 
 success. He was now visiting in Boston, but immediately on 
 his return was to depart to the scene of his new labors. 
 
 Mr. Regulus, or, as we should now call him, Professor Regu- 
 lus, had so long been considered a fixture in town, this change in 
 his destiny created quite a sensation in the circle in which he 
 moved. It seemed impossible to do without him. He was as 
 much a part of the academy as the colossal pen, whose gilded 
 feathers still swept the blue of ether. Were it not for the blight 
 that had fallen on my social joys, I should have mourned the 
 loss of this steadfast friend of my orphan years ; but now I 
 could not regret it. The mildew of suspicion rested on our in- 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 367 
 
 tercourse, and all its pleasant bloom was blasted. He was in 
 Boston. Had he gone to ask the dauntless Meg to be the com 
 panion of his life, in the more exalted sphere in which he was 
 about to move ? And would she indeed suffer her " wild heart 
 to be tamed by a loving hand ? " 
 
 AVhat delightful evenings we might now have enjoyed had 
 not the dark passion of Ernest thrown such a chilling shadow 
 over the household ! Richard came almost every night, for it 
 was his home. He loved and reverenced Mrs. Liirvvood, as if 
 she were his own mother. Edith was to him as a sweet and 
 gentle sister ; and though never by word or action he manifested 
 a feeling for me which I might not sanction and return as the 
 wife of another, I knew, that no one had supplanted me in 
 his affections, that I was still the Gabriella whom he had en 
 shrined in his boyish heart, in "all save hope the same." 
 He saw that I was unhappy, and he pitied me. The bright 
 sparkle of his eye always seemed quenched when it turned to 
 me, and his voice when it addressed me had a gentler, more sub 
 dued tone. But his spirit was so sparkling, so elastic, his man 
 ners so kind and winning, his conversation so easy and graceful, 
 it was impossible for sadness or constraint to dwell long in his 
 presence. Did I never contrast his sunny temper, his unselfish 
 disposition, his happy, genial temperament, with the darkness 
 and moodiness and despotism of Ernest ? Did I never sigh that 
 I had not given my young heart to one who would have trusted 
 me even as he loved, and surrounded me with a golden atmos 
 phere of confidence, calm and beautiful as an unclouded autumn 
 sky ? Did I not tremble at the thought of passing my whole 
 life in the midst of the tropic storms, the thunders and light 
 nings of passions ? 
 
 And yet I loved Ernest with all the intensity of my first 
 affection. I would have sacrificed my life to have given peace 
 to his troubled and warring spirit. His self-imposed suffer 
 ings almost maddened me. My heart, as it secretly clung to 
 him and followed his lonely steps as, faithful to his frantic vow, 
 he withdrew from domestic and social intercourse, longed 
 
368 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 to express its emotions in words as wildly impassioned as 
 these : 
 
 " Thou hast called me thine angel in moments of bliss, 
 Still thine angel I 11 prove mid the horrors of this. 
 Through the furnace unshrinking thy steps I 11 pursue, 
 And shield thee, and save theo, and perish there too." 
 
 Oh, most beloved, yet most wretched and deluded husband, 
 why was this dark thread, this cable cord, I might say, 
 twisted with the pure and silvery virtues of thy character ? 
 
 In the midst of this unhappy state of things, Margaret Mel 
 ville arrived. She returned with Mr. Regulus, who brought 
 her one beautiful evening, at the soft, twilight hour, to Grandi- 
 son Place. Whether it was the subdued light in which we first 
 beheld her, or the presence of her dignified companion, she 
 certainly was much softened. Her boisterous laugh was quite 
 melodized, and her step did not make the crystal drops of the 
 girandoles tinkle as ominously as they formerly did. Still, it 
 seemed as if a dozen guests had arrived in her single person. 
 There was such superabundant vitality about her. As for Mr. 
 Regulus, he was certainly going on even unto perfection, for 
 his improvement in the graces was as progressive and as steady 
 as the advance of the rolling year. I could not but notice the 
 extreme elegance of his dress. He was evidently "at some 
 cost to entertain himself." 
 
 " Come up stairs with me, darling," said she to me, catching 
 my hand and giving it an emphatic squeeze ; " help me to lay 
 aside this uncomfortable riding dress, besides," she whispered, 
 " I have so much to tell you." 
 
 As we left the room and passed Mr. Regulus, who was stand 
 ing near the door, the glance she cast upon him, bright, smiling, 
 triumphant, and happy, convinced me that my conjectures were 
 right. 
 
 " My dear creature ! " she exclaimed, as soon as we were in 
 my own chamber, throwing herself down on the first seat she 
 saw, and shaking her hair loose over her shoulders, " I am so 
 glad to see you. You do not know how happy I am, I mean 
 how glad I am, you did not expect me, did you ? " 
 
E R NEST L I N W O O D . 309 
 
 I thought Mr. Rcgulus had gone to see you, but I did not 
 that he would be fortunate enough to bring you back with 
 him. He discovered last winter, I have no doubt, what a pleas 
 ant travelling companion you were." 
 
 " Oh, Gabriclla, I could tell you something so strange, so 
 funny," and here she burst into one of her old ringing 
 laughs, that seemed perfectly uncontrollable. 
 
 "I think I can guess what it is," I said, assisting her at her 
 toilet, which was never an elaborate business with her. " You 
 and Mr. Rcgulus are very good friends, perhaps betrothed 
 lovers. Is that so very strange ? " 
 
 " Who told you ? " she exclaimed, turning quickly round, her 
 cheeks crimsoned and her eyes sparkling most luminously, 
 " who told you such nonsense ? " 
 
 "It does not require any supernatural knowledge to know 
 this," I answered. " I anticipated it when you were in New 
 York, and most sincerely do I congratulate you on the posses 
 sion of so excellent and noble a heart. Prize it, dear Mar 
 garet, and make yourself worthy of all it can, of all it will 
 impart, to ennoble and exalt your own." 
 
 " Ah ! I fear I never shall be worthy of it," she cried, giving 
 me an enthusiastic embrace, and turning aside her head to hide 
 a starting tear ; " but I do prize it, Gabriella, beyond all 
 words." 
 
 " Ah, you little gypsy ! " she exclaimed, suddenly resuming 
 her old wild manner, " why did you not prize it yourself? He 
 has told me all about the romantic scenes of the academy, he 
 says you transformed him from a rough boor into a feeling, 
 tender-hearted man, that you stole into his very inmost being, 
 like the breath of heaven, and made the barren wilderness 
 blossom like the rose. Ah ! you ought to hear how beautifully 
 he talks of you. But I am not jealous of you." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " I involuntarily cried. 
 
 " You may well say that," said she, looking earnestly in my 
 face ; " you may well say that, darling. But where is Ernest ? 
 I have not seen him yet." 
 
870 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " He is in the library, I believe. Pie is not very well ; and 
 you know he never enjoys company much." 
 
 " The same jealous, unreasonable being he ever was, I dare 
 say," she vehemently exclaimed. " It is a shame, and a sin, 
 and a burning sin, for him to go on as he does. Mr. Hegulus 
 says he could weep tears of blood to think how you have sacri 
 ficed yourself to him." 
 
 "Margaret, Margaret! If you have one spark of love 
 for me, one feeling of respect and regard for Mrs. Linwood, 
 your mother s friend and your own, never, never speak of 
 Ernest s peculiarities. I cannot deny them ; I cannot deny that 
 they make me unhappy, and fill me with sad forebodings ; but 
 he is my husband, and I cannot hear him spoken of with bit 
 terness. He is my husband ; and I love him in spite of his 
 wayward humors, with all the romance of girlish passion, and 
 all the tenderness of wedded love." 
 
 " Is love so strong as to endure every thing ? " she asked. 
 
 " It is so divine as to forgive every thing," I answered. 
 
 " Well ! you are an angel, and I will try to set a guard on these 
 wild lips, so that they shall not say aught to wound that dear, 
 precious, blessed little heart of yours. I will be just as good as 
 I can be ; and if I forget myself once in a while, you must for 
 give me, for the old Adam is in me yet. There, how does 
 that look ? " 
 
 She had dressed herself in a plain white muslin, with a white 
 sash carelessly tied ; and a light fall of lace was the only cover 
 ing to her magnificent arms and neck. 
 
 " Why, you look like a bride, Margaret," said I. " Surely, 
 you must think Mrs. Linwood is going to have a party to-night. 
 Never mind, we will all admire you as much as if you were 
 a bride. Let me twist some of these white rosebuds in your 
 hair, to complete the illusion." 
 
 I took some from the vase that stood upon my toilet, and 
 wreathed them in her black, shining locks. She clapped her 
 hands joyously as she surveyed her image in the mirror ; then 
 laughed long and merrily, and asked if she did not look like a 
 fool. 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 371 
 
 " Do you think there is any thing peculiar in my dress ? " 
 she suddenly asked, pulling the lace rather strenuously, consid 
 ering its gossamer texture. " I do not wish to look ridiculous." 
 
 " No, indeed. It is like Edith s and mine. We always wear 
 white muslin in summer, you know ; but you never seemed to 
 care much about dressing here in the country. I never saw 
 you look so well, so handsome, Madge." 
 
 " Thank you. Let us go down. But, stop one moment. Do 
 you think Mrs. Linwood will think it strange that I should 
 come here with Mr. Regulus ? " 
 
 " No, indeed." 
 
 " What do you think she will say about our our engage 
 ment ? " 
 
 " She will be very much pleased. I heard her say that if 
 you should become attached to a man of worth and talents such 
 as he possesses, you would become a good and noble woman." 
 
 " Did she say that ? Heaven bless her, body and soul. I 
 wonder how she could have any trust or faith in such a Green 
 land bear as I have been. I will not say am, for I think I 
 have improved some, do n t you ? " 
 
 " Yes ! and I believe it is only the dawn of a beautiful day 
 of womanhood." 
 
 Margaret linked her arm in mine with a radiant smile and a 
 vivid blush, and tripped down stairs with a lightness almost 
 miraculous. Mr. Regulus was standing at the foot of the 
 stairs leaning on the bannisters, in a musing attitude. As soon 
 as he saw us, his countenance lighted up with a joyful animation, 
 and he offered his arm to Margaret with eager gallantry. I 
 wondered I had not discovered before how very good looking 
 he was. Never, till he visited us in New York, had I thought 
 of him but as an awkward, rather homely gentleman. Now 
 his smile was quite beautiful, and as I accompanied them into 
 the drawing-room, I thought they were quite a splendid-looking 
 pair. Mrs. Linwood was in the front room, which was quite 
 filled with guests and now illuminated for the night. 
 
 " Not now," I heard Margaret whisper, drawing back a little ; 
 " wait a few moments." 
 
372 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " Oh ! it will be all over in a second," said he, taking her 
 hand and leading her up to Mrs. Linwood, who raised her eyes 
 wkh surprise at the unwonted ceremony of their approach, and 
 the blushing trepidation of Margaret s manner. 
 
 " Permit me to introduce Mrs. Regulus," said he, with a low 
 bow ; and though he reddened to the roots of his hair, he looked 
 round with a smiling and triumphant glance. Margaret curt 
 sied with mock humility down to the ground, then breaking 
 loose from his hand, she burst into one of her Madge Wildfire 
 laughs, and attempted to escape from the room. But she was 
 intercepted by Dr. Harlowe, who caught her by the arm and 
 kissed her with audible good-will, declaring it was a physician s 
 fee. The announcement of the marriage was received with 
 acclamation and clapping of hands. You should have heard 
 Edith laugh; it was like the chime of silvery bells. It was 
 so astonishing she could not, would not believe it. It was ex 
 actly like one of Meg s wild pranks to play such a farce. 
 But it was a solemn truth. Margaret, the bride of the morning, 
 became the presiding queen of the evening ; and had it not been 
 for the lonely occupant of the library, how gaily and happily 
 the hours would have flown by. How must the accents of 
 mirth that echoed through the hall torture, if they reached his 
 morbid and sensitive ear ! If I could only go to him and tell 
 him the cause of the unwonted merriment ; but I dared not do 
 it. It would be an infringement of the sacredness of his expia 
 tory vow. He would know it, however, at the supper table; 
 but no ! he did not appear at the supper table. He sent a 
 message to his mother, that he did not wish any, and the hos 
 pitable board was filled without him. 
 
 -; " I can hardly forgive you, Margaret," said Mrs. Linwood, 
 " for not giving us an opportunity of providing a wedding feast. 
 How much better it would have been to have had the golden 
 ring and fatted calf of welcome, than this plain, every-day 
 meal." 
 
 " Your every-day meals are better than usual wedding feasts," 
 replied Margaret, " and I do not see why one should eat more 
 on such an occasion than any other. You know /care nothing 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 373 
 
 for the good things of this life, though Mr. Regulus may be dis 
 appointed." 
 
 " Indeed, you are mistaken," said Mr. Regulus, blushing. " I 
 think so little of what I eat and drink, I can hardly tell the dif 
 ference betweeii tea and coffee." 
 
 This was literally true, and many a trick had been played 
 upon him at his boarding place while seated at his meals, with 
 an open book at the left side of his plate, and his whole mind 
 engaged in its contents. 
 
 " Mrs. Regulus," said Dr. Harlowe, giving due accent to her 
 new name, " is, as every one must perceive, one of those ethereal 
 beings who care for nothing more substantial than beefsteak, 
 plum-pudding, and mince-pie. Perhaps an airy slice of roast 
 turkey might also tempt her abstemiousness ! " 
 
 " Take care, Doctor, I have some one to protect me now 
 against your lawless tongue," cried Madge, with inimitable good- 
 humor. 
 
 " Come and dine with us to-morrow, and you shall prove my 
 words a libel, if you please. I cannot say that my wife will be 
 able to give you any thing better than Mrs. Lin wood s poor 
 fare, but it shall be sweetened by a heart-warm welcome, and we 
 will drink the health of the bonny bride in a glass of ruby 
 wine ! " 
 
 And was it possible that no note was taken of the strange 
 absence of the master of the table ? "Was it no check to social 
 joy and convivial pleasure ? It undoubtedly was, in the first place ; 
 but Margaret s exhilarating presence neutralized the effect pro 
 duced by his absence on the spirits of the guests. The occasion, 
 too, was so unexpected, so inspiring, that even I, sad and 
 troubled as I was, could not help yielding in some degree to its 
 gladdening influence. 
 
 After supper I had a long and delightful conversation with my 
 metamorphosed preceptor. He spoke of his marriage with all 
 the ingenuousness and simplicity of a child. He thanked me 
 for having told him, when I parted from him in New York, 
 that he had an influence over Margaret that he had not 
 dreamed of possessing. It made him, he said, more observant 
 
 32 
 
374 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 of her, and more careful of himself, till he really found her a 
 pleasant study. And somehow, when he had returned to his 
 country home, it seemed dull without her ; and he found himself 
 thinking of her, and then writing to her, and then going to see 
 her, till, to his astonishment, he found himself a lover and a 
 husband. His professorship, too, happened to come at the ex 
 act moment, for it emboldened him with hopes of success he 
 could not have cherished as a village teacher. 
 
 " How the wild creature happened to love me, a grave, un 
 gainly pedagogue, I cannot divine," he added ; " but if grati 
 tude, tenderness, and the most implicit confidence in her truth 
 and affection can make her happy, she shall never regret her 
 heart s choice." 
 
 Confidence did he say ? Happy, thrice happy Margaret ! 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 IT was an evening of excitement. Edith sang, and Mar 
 garet played some of her elfin strains, and Mr. Regulus made 
 music leap joyously from the sounding violin. There was one 
 in the lonely library who might have made sweeter music than 
 all, whose spirit s chords were all jangled and tuneless, and 
 whose ear seemed closed to the concord of melodious sounds. 
 My soul was not tuned to harmony now, but still there was 
 something soothing in its influence, and it relieved me from the 
 necessity of talking, the exertion of seeming what I could not be. 
 It was a luxury to glide unnoticed on the stream of thought, 
 though dark the current, and leading into troubled waters. It 
 was a luxury to think that the sighs of the heart might breathe 
 unheard in the midst of the soft rolling waves of Edith s mel 
 ody, or the dashing billows of Margaret s. Sometimes when I 
 imagined myself entirely unobserved, and suffered the cloud of 
 sadness that brooded over my spirits to float outwards, if I ac 
 cidentally raised my eyes, I met those of Richard Clyde fixed 
 on me with an expression of such intense and thrilling sympa 
 thy, I would start with a vague consciousness of guilt for hav 
 ing elicited such expressive glances. 
 
 Madge was playing as only Madge could play, and Edith 
 standing near the door that opened into the saloon in the front 
 parlor. She looked unusually pale, and her countenance was 
 languid. Was she thinking of Julian, the young artist at the 
 Falls, and wondering if the brief romance of their love were 
 indeed a dream ? All at once a change, quick as the electric 
 flash, passed over her face. A bright, rosy cloud rolled over its 
 pallor, like morning breaking in Alpine snows. Even the paly 
 
 4375) 
 
376 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 gold of her hair seemed to catch the glory that so suddenly and 
 absolutely illumined her. She was looking into the saloon, and 
 I followed the direction of her kindling eyes. Julian was at 
 that moment crossing the threshold. She had seen him as 
 cending the steps, and her heart sprang forth to meet him. I 
 saw her hesitate, look round for her mother, who was not near 
 her, then, while the rosy cloud deepened to crimson, she floated 
 into the saloon. 
 
 I went to Mrs. Linwood, who was in the back parlor, to tell 
 her of the arrival of the new guest. She started and changed 
 color. His coming was the seal of Edith s destiny. " I will 
 not come," he had said to her in parting, " till I can bring 
 abundant testimonials of my spotless lineage and irreproacha 
 ble reputation." 
 
 I had drawn her apart from the company, expecting she 
 would be agitated by the annunciation. 
 
 " Should not Ernest know of this ? " I asked. " He did not 
 abjure all the rites of hospitality. Oh, for Edith s sake, tell 
 him of Julian s arrival, and entreat him to come forth and wel 
 come him." 
 
 " I have been to him once and urged him to greet Mr. Regu- 
 lus, and merely offer him the usual congratulations on his mar 
 riage, but he persistingly refused. I fear he is killing himself 
 by this spirit-scourging vow. I never saw him look so pale and 
 wretched as he does to-night. I dread more and more the con 
 sequences of this self-inflicted martyrdom." 
 
 As I looked up in Mrs. Linwood s face, on which the light 
 of the chandelier resplendently shone, I observed lines of care 
 on her smooth brow, which were not there two weeks before. 
 The engraver was doing his work delicately, secretly, but he was 
 at work, and it was Ernest s hand that guided the steel as it left 
 its deepening grooves. 
 
 " O ! that I dared to go to him ! " said I ; " may I, dear 
 mother ? I can but be denied. I will speak to him as a friend, 
 coldly if it must be, but let me speak to him. He can but bid 
 me leave him." 
 
 " You too, my darling," said she, in a low, sad-toned voice, 
 
ERNEST I. I N W O O D 877 
 
 u you are wilting like a flower deprived of sunshine and dew. 
 But go. Take this key. He locks himself within, and all you 
 can do he will not grant admittance. The only way is to use 
 this pass-key, which you must return to me. I must go and 
 welcome Julian." 
 
 She put the key in my hand, and turned away with a sigh. I 
 trembled at my own audacity. I had never forced myself into 
 his presence, for the chillness of his vow was upon me, and the 
 hand that would have removed the icy barrier he had raised 
 between us was numbed by its coldness. 
 
 The way that led to the library was winding, sweeping by 
 the lofty staircase, and terminating in a kind of picture gallery. 
 Some of these w r ere relics of the old Italian masters, and their 
 dark, rich coloring came out in the lamp light with gloomy splen 
 dor. I had seen them a hundred times, but never had they im 
 pressed me with such lurid grandeur as now. One by one, the 
 dark lines started on the canvas glowing with strange life, and 
 standing out in bold, sublime relief. I hurried by them and 
 stood in front of the library door with the key trembling in my 
 hand. I heard no sound within. All was still as death. Per 
 haps, exhausted by his lonely vigils, he slept, and it would be 
 cruel to awaken him. Perhaps he would frown on me in an 
 ger, for not respecting the sanctity of his vow. I had seen 
 him at noon, but he did not speak or look at me ; and as his 
 mother said, he had never appeared so pale, so heart-worn, and 
 so wretched. He was evidently ill and suffering, though to his 
 mother s anxious inquiries he declared himself well, perfectly 
 well. There was one thing which made me glad. The gay, 
 mingling laughs, the sounds of social joy, of music and mirth, 
 carne so softened through the long winding avenue, that they 
 broke against the library in a soft, murmuring wave that could 
 not be heard within. 
 
 Why did I stand trembling and irresolute, as if I had no 
 right to penetrate that lonely apartment ? He was my husband, 
 and a wife s agonized solicitude had drawn me to him. If ho 
 repulsed me, I could but turn away and weep; and wag 
 not my pillow wet with nightly tears ? 
 
 32* 
 
378 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 Softly I turned the key, and the door opened, as if touch 
 ed by invisible hands. lie did not hear me, I know he did 
 not, for he sat at the upper end of the room, on a window 
 seat, leaning back against the drapery of the curtain that fell 
 darkly behind him. His face was turned towards the window, 
 through whose parted damask the starry night looked in. But 
 though his face was partially turned from me, I could see its 
 contour and its hue as distinctly as those of the marble busts 
 that surrounded him. He looked scarcely less hueless and cold, 
 and his hand, that lay embedded in. his dark wavy hair, gleamed 
 white and transparent as alabaster. I stood just within the 
 door, with suspended breath and wildly palpitating heart, pray 
 ing for courage to break the spell that bound me to the spot. 
 All my strength was gone. I felt myself a guilty intruder in 
 that scene of self-humiliation, penance, and prayer. Though 
 reason condemned his conduct, and mourned over his infatua 
 tion, the holiness of his purpose shone around him and sancti 
 fied him from ridicule and contempt. There was something 
 pure, spiritual, almost unearthly in his countenance ; but suffer 
 ing and languor cast a shadow over it, that appealed to human 
 sympathy. 
 
 If he would only move, only turn towards me ! The Israel 
 ites, at the foot of the cloud-girdled mount, whose fiery zone 
 they were forbidden to pass, could scarcely have felt more awe 
 and dread than I did, strange and weak as it may seem. I 
 moved nearer, still more near, till my shadow fell upon him. 
 Then he started and rose to his feet, and looked upon me, like 
 one suddenly awakened from a deep sleep. 
 
 " Gabriella ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Oh ! I cannot describe the inexpressible softness, tenderness, 
 and music of his accent. It was as if the whole heart were 
 melting into that single word. All my preconceived resolu 
 tions vanished, all coldness, alienation, and constraint. " I had 
 found him whom my soul loved." My arms were twined 
 around him, I was clasped to his bosom with the most pas 
 sionate emotion, and the hearts so violently wrenched asunder 
 once more throbbed against each other. 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 379 
 
 " Ernest, beloved Ernest ! " 
 
 " Temptress, sorceress ! " he suddenly exclaimed, pushing me 
 from him with frenzied gesture, "you have come to destroy 
 my soul, I have broken my solemn vow, I have incurred 
 the vengeance of Almighty God. Peace was flowing over me 
 like a river, but now all the waves and billows of passion are 
 gone over me. I sink, I perish, and you, you, Gabriella, 
 it is you who plunge me in the black abyss of perjury and 
 guilt." 
 
 I was terrified at the dark despair that settled on his brow. 
 I feared his reason was forsaking him, and that I, in my rash 
 ness, had accelerated his doom. 
 
 " Do not, do not talk so dreadfully, Ernest. Forgive me, 
 if I have done wrong in coming. Forgive me, if for one mo 
 ment I recalled you to the tenderness you have so long abjured. 
 But mine is the offence, and mine be the sorrow. Do not, I 
 pray you, blame yourself so cruelly for my transgression, if it 
 indeed be one. Oh, Ernest, how pale, how wretched you look ! 
 You are killing yourself and me, your mother too. We 
 cannot live in this state of alienation. The time of your vow is 
 only half expired, only twenty days are past, and they seem 
 twenty years of woe. Dear Ernest, you are tempting God by 
 this. One tear of penitence, one look of faith, one prayer to 
 Christ for mercy, are worth more than years of penance and 
 lonely torture. Revoke this rash vow. Come back to us, my 
 Ernest, come down from the wilderness, leave the desolate 
 places of despair, and come where blessings wait you. Your 
 mother waits to bless you, Edith waits you to greet and wel 
 come her Julian, Margaret, a happy bride, waits your 
 friendly congratulations. Come, and disperse by your presence 
 the shadow that rests on the household." 
 
 " Would you indeed counsel me to break a solemn vow, Ga 
 briella ? It may have been rash ; but it was a vow ; and were 
 I to break it, I should feel forever dishonored in the sight of 
 God and man." 
 
 "Which, think you, had more weight when placed in the 
 scales of eternal justice, Herod s rash vow, or the life of the holy 
 
380 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 prophet sacrificed to fulfil it ? O Ernest ! wild, impulsive 
 words forced from the lips of passion should never be made 
 guides of action. It is wrong, I know, to speak unwisely and 
 madly, but doubly, trebly wrong to act so." 
 
 As thus I pleaded and reasoned and entreated, I kept my 
 earnest gaze on his face, and eagerly watched, watched with 
 trembling hope and fear the effect of my words. I had drawn 
 back from him as far as the width of the library, and my hands 
 were clasped together and pressed upon my bosom. I did not 
 know that I stood directly beneath the picture of the Italian 
 flower-girl, till I saw his glance uplifted from my face to hers, 
 with an expression that recalled the morning when he found 
 me gazing on her features, in all the glow of youth, love, joy, 
 and hope. Then I remembered how he had scattered my rose 
 leaves beneath his feet, and what a prophetic sadness had then 
 shaded my spirits. 
 
 " Alas ! my poor Gabriella," he cried, looking down from the 
 picture to me. with an expression of the tenderest compassion ; 
 " Alas, my flower-girl ! how have I wilted your blooming youth ! 
 You are pale, my girl, and sad, that bewitching smile no lon 
 ger parts your glowing lips. Would to God I had never crossed 
 your path of roses with my withering footsteps! Would to God 
 I had never linked your young, confiding heart to mine, so 
 blasted by suspicion, so consumed by jealousy s baleful fires ! 
 Yet, Heaven knows I meant to make you happy. I meant to 
 watch over you as tenderly as the mother over her new-born in 
 fant, as holily as the devotee over the shrine of the saint he 
 adores. How faithless I have been to this guardianship of 
 love, you know too well. I have been a madman, a monster, 
 you know I have, worthy of eternal detestation. But you 
 have not suffered alone. Remorse unquenchable fire ; re 
 morse undying worm, avenges every pang I have inflicted on 
 you. Remorse goaded me to desperation, desperation prompt 
 ed the expiatory vow. It must be fulfilled, or I shall forfeit my 
 self-respect, my honor, and truth. But I shall be better, stronger, 
 I feel I shall, after passing this stern ordeal. It will soon be 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 381 
 
 over, and I have a confidence so firm that it has the strength of 
 conviction, that in this lonely conflict with the powers of dark* 
 ness I shall come off conqueror, through God s assisting angels." 
 
 He spoke with fervor, and his countenance lighted up with 
 enthusiasm. Bodily weakness and languor had disappeared, 
 and his transparent cheek glowed with the excitement of his 
 feelings. 
 
 " If you are really thus supported by divine enthusiasm," I 
 said, with an involuntary kindling of admiration, " perhaps I 
 ought to submit in silence, where I cannot understand. Forgive 
 me before I leave you, Ernest, this rash intrusion. "We may 
 forgive even our enemies." 
 
 " Forgive, Gabriella ! Oh ! if you knew the flood of joy and 
 rapture that for one moment deluged my soul ! I dare not 
 recall it. Forgive, O my God ! " 
 
 He turned away, covered his face with his left hand, and 
 made a repelling gesture with the other. I understood the 
 motion, and obeyed it. 
 
 " Farewell, Ernest," said I, slowly retreating ; " may angels 
 minister to you and bear up your spirit on their wings of 
 love.]" 
 
 I looked back, on the threshold, and met his glance then 
 turned towards me. Had I been one of the angels I invoked, it 
 could not have been more adoring. 
 
 And thus we parted ; and when I attempted to describe the 
 interview to his mother, I wept and sobbed as if I had been 
 paying a visit to his grave. And yet I was glad that I had 
 been, glad that I had bridged the gulf that separated us, though 
 but momentarily. 
 
 Perhaps some may smile at this record. I have no doubt 
 they will, and pronounce the character of Ernest unnatural 
 and impossible. But in all his idiosyncrasy, he is the Ernest 
 Linwood of Grandison Place, just such as I have delineated 
 him, just such as I knew and loved. I know that there are 
 scenes that have seemed, that will seem, overwrought, and I 
 have often been tempted to throw down the pen, regretting the 
 task I have undertaken. But, were we permitted to steal be- 
 
882 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 hind the scenes of many a life drama, what startling discoveries 
 would we make ! \Reality goes beyond the wildest imaginings 
 of romance, beyond the majestic sweep of human genius. 
 Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor imagination conceived, 
 the wild extent to which the passions of man may go. The 
 empire of passion is veiled, and its battle ground is secret. 
 Who beheld the interview in the library, which I have just 
 described? Who saw him kneeling at his mother s feet at the 
 midnight hour ? Or who witnessed our scenes of agony and 
 reconciliation in the palace walls of our winter home ? Ah ! 
 the world sees only the surface of the great deep of the heart. 
 It has never plunged into the innermost -main, never beheld 
 the seething and the rolling of the unfathomable mystery : 
 
 " And where is the diver so stout to go, 
 I ask ye again to the deep below 1 " 
 
 Well do I remember the thrilling legend of the roaring 
 whirlpools, the golden goblet, and the dauntless diver, and well 
 do I read its meaning. 
 
 O Ernest ! I have cast the golden goblet of happiness into 
 a maelstrom, and he alone, who walked unsinking the waves 
 of Galilee, can bring back the lost treasure from the dark and 
 boiling vortex. 
 
CHAPTER XLIX . 
 
 JULIAN was worthy of Edith. His parentage was honorable 
 and pure, his connections irreproachable, and his own character 
 noble and unblemished. Reason could oppose no obstacle, and 
 the young artist was received into the family as the betrothed 
 of the lovely lame girl. 
 
 The romantic idea which had suggested itself to my mind, that 
 he might be the son of Theresa and my own half-brother, had 
 vanished before the testimonies of his birth. Another day 
 dream too. I had always looked forward to the hour when 
 Richard would transfer his affections to Edith, and be rewarded 
 by her love for his youthful disappointment. But she was 
 destined to reign in undivided sovereignty over a heart that had 
 never been devoted to another ; to be loved with all the fervor 
 of passion and all the enthusiasm of genius. 
 
 It was the day of social gathering at Dr. Harlowe s ; but I 
 remained at home. I felt as if I could not be missed from the 
 circle in which Madge, in bridal charms, sparkled a ruby gem, 
 and the fairer Edith shone, a living pearl. Though scarcely 
 one year a wife, the discipline of my wedded experience had so 
 chastened and subdued me, I seemed to myself quite a matron, 
 beside those on whom the morning glow of love and hope were 
 beaming. Madge and Edith were both older than myself, and 
 yet I had begun to live far earlier. 
 
 In the later part of the day, Mrs. Lin wood, who had also 
 remained at home, asked me to accompany her in a ride. She 
 wished to visit several who were sick and afflicted, and I always 
 felt it a privilege to be her companion. 
 
 " Will you object to calling here ? " she asked, when we ap- 
 
 (383) 
 
384 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 preached the old gray cottage, once my mother s home and my 
 own. " There is a sick woman here, whom I wish to see. You 
 can walk about the green skirting the woods, if you prefer. 
 This enchanting breeze will give new life to your body and 
 new brightness to your spirits." 
 
 I thanked her for the permission, knowing well the kind re 
 gard to my feelings which induced her to give it. She knew 
 sad memories must hang around the apartments where my 
 mother and the faithful Peggy had suffered and died ; and that it 
 would be a trial to me to see strangers occupying the places so 
 hallowed by association. 
 
 Time had been at work on that old cottage, with its noise 
 less but effacing fingers. And its embroidering fingers too, for 
 the roof from which many a shingle had fallen, was green with 
 garlands of moss, wrought into the damp and mouldering wood 
 with exquisite grace and skill. I turned away with a sigh, and 
 beheld infancy by the side of the humble ruin, the oriental 
 palace which was my bridal home, and wondered at the mar 
 vellous changes of life. 
 
 I wandered to the welling spring by whose gushing waters 
 I had so often sat, indulging the wild poetry of my childish 
 imagination. I gazed around, scarcely recognizing the once 
 enchanting spot. A stone had literally rolled against the mouth 
 of the fountain, and the crystal diamonds no longer sparkled in 
 the basin below. An awkward pump, put up near the cabin, 
 explained this appearance of neglect and wildness. The soft 
 grassy slope where I used to recline and watch the fountain s 
 silvery play, was overgrown with tall, rank, rustling weeds, 
 among which I could distinguish the deadly bloom and sick 
 ening odor of the nightshade. There was a rock covered with 
 the brightest, richest covering of dark green moss, on which I 
 seated myself, and gave myself up to the memories of the past. 
 Perhaps this was the same rock on which Richard Clyde and 
 I had often sat side by side, and watched the shadows of twi 
 light purple the valley. 
 
 I untied my bonnet and laid it on the long grass, for I was 
 shaded from the western sun, and the breeze blew fresh and 
 
ERNEST UN WOOD. uuo 
 
 pure from the hills he was about to crown with a right royal 
 diadem. While I thus sat, I heard footsteps quick and eager 
 echoing behind, and Richard Clyde bounded down the slope 
 and threw himself on the ground at my side. 
 
 " Thank heaven,"- he exclaimed, " I have found you, Gabri- 
 ella, and found you alone ! " 
 
 His manner was hurried and agitated, his eyes had a wild 
 expression, and tossing aside his hat, he wiped thick-coming 
 drops of perspiration from his forehead. 
 
 His words, and the unusual excitement of his manner, alarmed 
 me. 
 
 " What has happened, Richard ? Where have you sought 
 me? What tidings have you to communicate? Speak, and 
 tell me, for I tremble with fear." 
 
 " I am so agitated," he cried, sitting down on the rock at my 
 side, and taking one of my hands in his. I started, for his was 
 so icy cold and tremulous, and his face was as pale as Ernest s. 
 He looked like one who had escaped some terrible danger, and 
 in whose bosom horror and gratitude were struggling for mas 
 tery. 
 
 " Is it of Ernest you have come to tell me ? " I asked, with 
 blanched lips. 
 
 " No, no, no ! I know nothing of him. It is of myself, 
 of you, I would speak. I have just made the most astonishing 
 discovery ! Never till now have I heard your real name and 
 early history. O ! Gabriella you whom I have loved so long 
 with such fervor, such passion, such idolatry, you (O right 
 eous God forgive me !) are the daughter of my father, for 
 Theresa La Fontaine was my own mother. Gabriella, sis 
 ter, beloved ! " 
 
 He clasped me to his bosom ; he kissed me again and again, 
 weeping and sobbing like a child. In broken words he deplored 
 his sinful passion, entreating me to forgive him, to love him as 
 a brother, to cling to him as a friend, and feel that there was 
 one who would live to protect, or die to defend me. Bewildered 
 and enraptured by this most unthought of and astounding dis 
 covery, my heart acknowledged its truth and glowed with grati- 
 
 33 
 
386 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 tude and joy. Richard, the noble-hearted, gallant Richard, was 
 my brother! My soul s desire was satisfied. How I had 
 yearned for a brother ! and to find him, and such a brother ! 
 Oh ! joy unspeakable. Oh ! how strange, how passing 
 strange, how almost passing credulity ! 
 
 At any moment this discovery would have been welcomed 
 with rapture. But now, when the voluntary estrangement of 
 Ernest had thrown my warm affections back for the time into 
 my own bosom, to pine for want of cherishing, it came like a 
 burst of sunshine after a long and dreary darkness, like the 
 music of gushing waters to the feverish and thirsty pilgrim. 
 
 My heart was too full for questions, and his for explanations. 
 They would come in due time. He was my brother, that was 
 enough. Ernest could not be jealous of a brother s love. He 
 would own with pride the fraternal bond, and forget the father s 
 crimes in the son s virtues. 
 
 It seemed but a moment since Richard had called me sister. 
 Neither of us had spoken, for tears choked our words ; but our 
 arms were still entwined, and my head rested on his bosom, in 
 all the abandonment of nature s holiest feelings. All at once 1 
 heard a rustling in the grass, soft and stealthy like a gliding 
 snake. I raised my head, looked back, looked up. 
 
 Merciful Father of heaven and earth ! did I not then pass 
 the agonies of death ? 
 
 I saw a face, my God ! how dark, how deadly, how terrible 
 it was ! I knew that face, and my heart was rifted as if by a 
 thunderbolt. 
 
 The loud report of a pistol, and a shriek such as never be 
 fore issued from mortal lips, bursting from mine, were simul 
 taneous sounds. Richard fell back with a deep groan. Then 
 there seemed a rushing sound as the breaking up of the great 
 deep, a heaving and tossing like the throes of an earthquake ; 
 then a sinking, sinking, lower and lower, and then a cloud black 
 as night and heavy as iron came lowering and crushing me, 
 me, and the bleeding Richard. All was darkness, silence, 
 oblivion 
 
CHAPTER L. 
 
 A LIGHT, soft and glimmering as morning twilight, floated 
 round me. Was it the dawn of an eternal morning, or the lin 
 gering radiance of life s departing day ? Did my spirit ani 
 mate the motionless body extended on that snowy bed, or was 
 it hovering, faint and invisible, above the confines of mortality ? 
 
 I was just awakened to the consciousness of existence, a 
 dim, vague consciousness, such as one feels in a dissolving dream. 
 I seemed involved in a white, transparent cloud, and reclining 
 on one of those downy-looking cloud-beds that I have seen wait 
 ing to receive the sinking sun. 
 
 While thus I lay, living the dawning life of infancy, the 
 white cloud softly rolled on one side, and a figure appeared in 
 the opening, that belonged to a previous state of existence. I 
 had seen its mild lineaments in another world ; but when, 
 how long ago ? 
 
 My eyes rested on the features of the lady till they grew 
 more and more familiar, but there was a white cloud round her 
 face, that threw a mournful shadow over it, that I had never 
 seen before. Again my eyelids closed, and I seemed passing 
 away, where, I knew not ; yet consciousness remained. I felt 
 soft, trembling kisses breathed upon my face, and tears too, 
 mingling with their balm. With a delicious perception of ten 
 derness, watchfulness, and love, I sunk into a deep, deep 
 sleep. 
 
 When I awoke, the silver lustre of an astral lamp, shaded 
 by a screen, glimmered in the apartment and quivered like 
 moonbeams in the white drapery that curtained the bed. I 
 knew where I was, I was in my own chamber, and the lady 
 
 (387) 
 
388 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 who sjit by my bedside, and whose profile I beheld through the 
 parted folds of the curtains, was Mrs. Linwood. And yet, how 
 strange ! It must have been years since we had met, for the 
 lovely brown of her hair was now a pale silver gray, and age 
 had laid its withering hand on her brow. With a faint cry, I 
 ejaculated her name, and attempted to raise my head from the 
 pillow, but in vain. I had no power of motion. Even the ex 
 ertion of uttering her name was beyond my strength. She rose, 
 bent over me, looked earnestly and long into the eyes uplifted 
 to her face, then dropping on her knees and clasping her hands, 
 her spirit went upwards in silent prayer. 
 
 As thus she knelt, and I gazed on her upturned countenance, 
 shaded by that strange, mournful, silver cloud, my thoughts 
 began to shape themselves slowly and gradually, as the features 
 of a landscape through dissolving mists. They trembled as 
 the foliage trembles in the breeze that disperses the vapors. 
 Images of the past gained distinctness of outline and coloring, 
 and all at once, like the black hull, broken mast, and rent sails 
 of a wrecked vessel, one awful scene rose before me. The face, 
 like that of the angel of death, the sound terrible as the thunders 
 of doom, the bleeding body that my arms encircled, the destroy 
 ing husband, the victim brother, all came back to me; 
 life, memory, grief, horror, all came back. 
 
 " Ernest ! Richard ! " burst in anguish from my feeble lips. 
 
 "They live! my child, they live!" said Mrs. Linwood, 
 rising from her knees and taking my passive hand in both hers ; 
 " but ask nothing now ; you have been very ill, you are weak as 
 an infant ; you must be tranquil, patient, and submissive ; and 
 grateful, too, to a God of infinite mercy. When you are stronger 
 I will talk to you, but not now. You must yield yourself to my 
 guidance, in the spirit of an un weaned child." 
 
 " They live ! " repeated I to myself, " my God, I bless thee ! 
 I lie at thy footstool. I am willing to die ; I long to die. Let 
 the waves of eternity roll over my soul." 
 
 Husband and brother ! they lived, and yet neither came to me 
 on my couch of sickness. But Richard ! had not I seen him 
 bleeding, insensible, the image of death? he lived, yet he might 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 389 
 
 be on the borders of the grave. But she had commanded me to 
 be silent, submissive, and grateful ; and I tried to obey her. My 
 physical weakness was such, it subdued the paroxysms of mental 
 agony, and the composing draught which she gave me was a 
 blessed Nepenthe, producing oblivion and repose. 
 
 The next day I recognized Dr. Harlowe, the excellent and 
 beloved physician. When I called him by name, as he stood by 
 the bed, counting my languid pulse, the good man turned 
 aside his head to hide the womanish tears that moistened his 
 cheeks. Then looking down on me with a benignant smile, he 
 said, smoothing my hair on my forehead, as if I were a little 
 child 
 
 " Be a good girl ; keep quiet ; be patient as a lamb, and you 
 will soon be well." 
 
 " How long have I been ill, Doctor ? " I asked. " I am very 
 foolish, I know ; but it seems as if even you look older than 
 you did." 
 
 " Never mind, my dear, how long you have been sick. I 
 mean to have you well in a short time. Perhaps I do look a 
 little older, for I have forgotten to shave this morning." 
 
 While he was speaking, I caught a glimpse of the lawn 
 through a slight opening in the window curtain, and I uttered 
 an exclamation of amazement and alarm. The trees which I 
 had last beheld clothed in a foliage of living green, were covered 
 with the golden tints of autumn ; and here and there a naked 
 bough, with prophetic desolation, waved its arm across the 
 sky. 
 
 Where had my spirit been while the waning year had rolled 
 on ? Where was Ernest ? Where was Richard ? Wiry was I 
 forsaken and alone ? 
 
 These questions quivered on my tongue, and would have ut 
 terance. 
 
 " Tell me, Doctor, I cannot live in this dreadful suspense." 
 
 He sat down by me, still holding my hand in his, and prom 
 ised to tell me, if I would be calm and passive. He told me 
 that for two months I had been in a state of alternate insensi 
 bility and delirium, that they had despaired of my life, and that 
 
 33* 
 
390 ERNEST L I X W O O D . 
 
 they welcomed me as one risen from the grave. He told me 
 that Ernest had left home, in consequence of the prayers of 
 his mother, till Richard should recover from the effects of his 
 wound, which they at first feared would prove fatal ; that Rich 
 ard was convalescent, was under the same roof with me, and 
 would see me as soon as I could bear the meeting. 
 
 " Ernest knows that he is my brother, he knows that I am 
 innocent," I exclaimed, my whole soul trembling on his answer. 
 
 " I trust he knows it now," he replied, with a troubled coun 
 tenance. " His mother has written and told him all. We were 
 ignorant ourselves of this, you must recollect, till Richard was 
 able to explain it." 
 
 " And he went away believing me a wretch ! " I cried, in a 
 tone of unutterable agony. " He will never, never return ! " 
 
 " My dear child," replied Dr. Harlowe, in an accent of kind 
 authority, " you have no right to murmur ; you have been 
 spared the most awful infliction a sovereign God could lay 
 upon you, a brother s life taken by a husband s hand. Praise 
 the Almighty day and night, bless Him without ceasing, that 
 He has lifted from your bosom this weight of woe. Be recon 
 ciled to your husband s absence. Mourn not for a separation 
 which may prove the greatest blessing ever bestowed upon both. 
 All may yet be well. It will be, if God wills it ; and if He wills 
 it not, my dear child, you must then, lay your hand on your 
 mouth, and your mouth in the dust, and say, It is the Lord, let 
 Him do what seemeth good in His sight. " 
 
 " I know it, I feel it," I answered, tears raining on my pil 
 low ; " but let me see my brother. It will do me good." 
 
 " By and by," said he ; " he is not very strong himself yet. 
 The young rascal ! if he had only confided to me the secret 
 with which his heart was bursting ! But there is no use in cry 
 ing over burnt bread. We must keep it out of the fire next 
 time." 
 
 The entrance of Edith checked this conversation, and it was 
 well. She came with her usual gentle motion, and fair, pitying 
 countenance, and diffused around her an atmosphere of divine 
 repose. My brain, relieved of the dreadful tension of suspense, 
 
E R NEST L I N W O O D . 391 
 
 throbbed soft and cool beneath the snow of her loving fingers. 
 She, too, was pale and wan, but she smiled upon me with glis 
 tening eyes, and whispered words of sweetest consolation. 
 
 It was not till after the lapse of several days that I was per 
 mitted to see Richard, and then the doctor said he deserved a 
 good whipping for insisting on coming. He came into the room 
 leaning on the arm of Dr. Harlowe, and supported on the other 
 side by Mrs. Linwood. He looked like the shadow of his 
 former self, so white, so thin and languid, and his counte 
 nance showed as plainly as words could speak, that he was 
 struck with the same sad change in me. 
 
 " Now no heroics, no scene," said the doctor ; " say how do 
 you do, and shake hands, but not one bit of sentiment, I for 
 bid that entirely." 
 
 " My sister, my dear sister ! " said Richard, bending down and 
 kissing my forehead. He reeled as he lifted his head, and 
 would have fallen had not Dr. Harlowe s strong arm supported 
 him. 
 
 I longed to embrace him with all a sister s fondness, and 
 pour out on his bosom all my sorrow and my love ; but the 
 doctor was imperative, and made him recline in an easy-chair 
 by the bedside, threatening him with instant dismission if he 
 were not perfectly quiet and obedient. I saw Richard start 
 and shudder, as his eyes rested on my left arm, which hung 
 over the counterpane. The sleeve of my loose robe had 
 slipped up, baring the arm below the elbow. The start, the 
 shudder, the look of anguish, made me involuntarily raise it, 
 and then I saw a scar, as of a recently healed wound just be 
 low the elbow. I understood it all. The ball that had pene 
 trated his back, had passed through my arm, and thus prevented 
 it from reaching the citadel of life. That feeble arm had been 
 his safeguard and his shield; it had intercepted the bolt of 
 death ; it had barricaded, as it were, the gates of hell. 
 
 Mrs. Linwood, who was standing by me, stooped down, kissed 
 the scar, and drew the sleeve gently over it. As she bowed 
 her head, and I saw the silver shadow on her late dark, brown 
 hair, I felt how intense must have been the suffering that 
 
392 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 wrought this wondrous change, and I resolved to bear un 
 murmuring my own sorrows, rather than add a feather s weight 
 to her burden of woe. 
 
 I remembered how the queenly locks of Marie Antoinette 
 were whitened in one night of agony. Perhaps my own dark 
 tresses were crowned by premature snow. I had not seen my 
 self since the green of summer had passed into the " sere and 
 yellow leaf/ and perhaps the blight of my heart was visible on 
 my brow. When I was alone with Edith, I surprised her by 
 asking if my hair were not white. She smiled, and bringing a 
 toilet glass, held it before me. What was my astonishment to 
 see my hair curling in short waves round my face, like the locks 
 of childhood ! And such a face, so white, so colorless. I 
 hardly recognized myself, and pushing back the glass, I burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " Dear Gabriella ! " said Edith, quite distressed, " I am sorry 
 they cut off your beautiful hair. But the doctor said it must be 
 done. It does not spoil you, though. You do not know how 
 sweetly childish it makes you look." 
 
 " I care not for the looks, Edith ; it is not that. But it is so 
 dreadful to think of so many changes, and I unconscious of all. 
 Such a long, dreary blank ! Where was my soul wandering ? 
 What fearful scenes may hereafter dawn on my memory? 
 Beauty ! No, Edith ; think not I weep for the cloud that has 
 passed over it. The only eyes in which I desired to appear 
 lovely, will never behold me more." 
 
 " You will not be the only sufferer, Gabriella," said Edith, 
 mournfully. " A dreadful blow has fallen upon us all ; but for 
 our mother s sake, if not for a greater, we must endeavor to 
 submit." 
 
 " Tell me, Edith, what I dare not ask of her, tell me where 
 he is gone, and tell me the particulars of those first dark hours 
 when my soul was in such awful eclipse. I must know ; and 
 when once told, I shall be resigned, whatever be my fate." 
 
 Edith seated herself on the side of the bed, and leaned back 
 so that I could not look in her face. Then putting her arms 
 round me, she drew me towards her, and made me rest against 
 her shoulder. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 393 
 
 " If yon grieve to listen, think how painful it is for me to re 
 late," said she. 
 
 " I will," I answered ; " I shall have strength to hear what 
 ever you have fortitude to tell." 
 
 " You must not ask a minute description of what will always 
 be involved in my remembrance in a horror of thick darkness. 
 I know not how I got home from Dr. Ilarlowe s, where the 
 tidings reached me. My mother brought you in the carriage, 
 supported in her arms ; and when I first saw you, you were 
 lying just where you are now, perfectly insensible. Richard 
 was carried to Dr. Harlowe s on a litter, and it was then feared 
 he might not live." 
 
 Edith s voice faltered. 
 
 " It was after sunset. The saloon was dark, and all was 
 gloom and confusion in the household. Mamma and I were 
 standing by your bed, with our backs to the door, when we 
 heard a hoarse, low voice behind us, saying, 
 
 " Is she dead ? 
 
 " We turned, and beheld Ernest right in the door way, look 
 ing more like a spectre than a human being. 
 
 u * No, no, answered my mother ; and almost running to meet 
 him, she seized him by the arm, drew him into the chamber, 
 and closed the door. He struggled to be released ; but she 
 seemed to have the strength of numbers in her single grasp. 
 
 " She is not dead, said she, pointing to the bed, though she 
 hears, sees, knows nothing ; but Richard will die, and you will be 
 arrested as a murderer. You must not linger here one moment. 
 Go, and save yourself from the consequences of this fatal act. 
 Go, if you would not see me, your mother, die in agony at your 
 feet." 
 
 " Oh ! Gabriella, had you seen her then, her who has such sub 
 lime self-control, prostrate at his feet, wringing her hands and 
 entreating him to fly before it was too late, you would not won 
 der that the morning sun shone on her silver hair. 
 
 " I will not fly the death for which I groan, cried Ernest. 
 Had I ten thousand lives, I would loathe and curse them all/ 
 
394 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 " Parricide, parricide/ exclaimed my mother, wo, wo be to 
 him who spurns a kneeling mother s prayer. 
 
 " Oh! my mother, cried he, endeavoring to raise her from 
 the ground, while he shook as if with ague shiverings. I do 
 not spurn you ; but why should I live, with a brand blacker than 
 Cain s on my heart and soul, crushed, smitten, dishonored, 
 and undone ? 
 
 " Forbear, my son. This blighted form is sacred as it is spot 
 less. Has not blood quenched your maniac passion ? 
 
 " The eyes of Ernest flashed with lurid fire. 
 
 " Locked in each other s arms they fell, he muttered througb 
 his shut teeth, heart to heart, mother. I saw them, and God, 
 who will judge me, saw them. No, she is false., false, false, 
 false as the lost angels who fell from paradise into the burning 
 pit of doom. 
 
 " But what am I doing, Gabriella ? I did not mean to repeat 
 this. I had become so excited by the remembrance of that 
 terrible scene, I knew not what I was saying. You cannot bear 
 it. I must not go on. What would my mother, what would 
 Dr. Harlowe say, if they knew of this ? " 
 
 I entreated her to continue. I told her that nothing she had 
 said was half so dreadful as my imagination had depicted, that I 
 grew strong with my need of strength. 
 
 " And you and your mother believed him," I said, with aston 
 ishing calmness ; " you knew not that Richard was my brother." 
 
 " Had it not been for your wounded arm," replied Edith, lay 
 ing her hand gently on the scar, " we should have supposed he 
 was under a strong delusion to believe a lie. Appearances 
 were against you, and your condemnation was my brother s pal 
 liation, if not acquittal. My mother continued her supplications, 
 mingled with tears and sighs that seemed to rend the life 
 from her bosom ; and I, Gabriella, do you think 1 was silent and 
 passive ? I, who would willingly have laid down my life for 
 his? "We prevailed. he yielded, he left us in the darkness 
 of night, the darkness of despair. It is more than two months 
 since, and we have received no tidings of the wanderer. My 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 395 
 
 mother urged him to go to New York and remain till he heard 
 the fate of Richard. She has written to him there, again and 
 again, but as yet has received no answer." 
 
 And he went without one farewell look of her whom he 
 deemed so vile, so lost ? " said I, pressing Edith s hand against 
 my cold and sinking heart. 
 
 " Xo, Gabriella. His last act was to kneel by your side, and 
 pray God to forgive you both. Twice he went to the door, then 
 coming back he bent over you as if he would clasp you in his 
 arms ; then with a wild ejaculation he turned away. Never 
 saw I such anguish in the human countenance." 
 
 " I have but one question more to ask," said I, after a long 
 pause, whose dreariness was that which follows the falling of 
 the clods in the grave hollow. " How did Ernest know that 
 Richard was with me, when we left him alone in the library ? " 
 
 4 * Dr. llarlowe accidentally alluded to your father s history 
 before Richard, who, you recollect, was in foreign lands during 
 the excitement it caused, and had never heard the circumstances. 
 As soon as he heard the name of St. James, I saw him start, 
 and turn to the doctor with a flushed and eager countenance. 
 Then he drew him one side, and they conversed together some 
 time in a low undertone ; and Richard s face, red one moment 
 and white the next, flashed with strange and shifting emotions. 
 At the time when your father s name obtained such unhappy 
 aotoriety, and yours through him, in the public papers, my 
 mother confided to Dr. llarlowe, who was greatly troubled on 
 your account, the particulars of your mother s life. She thought 
 it due to your mother s memory, and his steady friendship. I 
 know not how much he told Richard, whose manner evidently 
 surprised him, but we all noticed that he was greatly agitated ; 
 and then he abruptly took leave. He came immediately here, 
 and inquired for you, asked where you were gone, arid hurried 
 away as if on an errand of life and death. Ernest, who was 
 passing along the winding gallery, heard him, and followed." 
 
 Another dreary pause. Then I remembered Julian, and the 
 love-light that had illumined them both that memorable even 
 ing. Edith had not once alluded to her own clouded hopes. 
 
306 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 She seemed to have forgotten herself in her mother s griefs 
 and mine. 
 
 " And Julian, my beloved Edith ? There is a future for you, 
 a happy one, is there not ? " 
 
 " I do not expect happiness," she answered, with a sigh ; 
 " but Julian s love will gild the gloom of sorrow, and be the 
 rainbow of my clouded days. He will return in the winter, 
 and then perhaps he will not leave me again. I cannot quit 
 my mother; but he can take a son s place in her desolated 
 home. No garlands of roses will twine round my bridal hours, 
 for they are all withered, all but the rose of Sharon, Gabriella, 
 whose sacred bloom can never fade away. It is the only flower 
 worth cherishing, the only one without thorns, and without 
 blight." 
 
 Softly withdrawing her supporting arms, she suffered me to 
 sink back on the pillow, gave me a reviving cordial, drew the 
 curtains, and taking up a book, seemed absorbed in its contents. 
 I closed my eyes and appeared to sleep, that she might not 
 suppose her narration had banished repose. I had anticipated 
 all she uttered ; but the certainty of desolation is different to 
 the agonies of suspense. I could have borne the separation 
 from Ernest; but that he should believe me the false, guilty 
 wretch I had seemed to be, inflicted pangs sharper than the 
 vulture s beak or the arrow s barb. If he had left the country, 
 as there was every reason to suppose he had, with this convic 
 tion, he never would return ; and the loneliness and dreariness 
 of a widowhood more sad than that which death creates, would 
 settle down darkly and heavily on my young life. 
 
 I did not blame him for the rash deed he had wrought, for it 
 was a madman s act. When I recalled the circumstances, I did 
 not wonder at the frantic passion that dyed his hand in blood ; 
 and yet I could not blame myself. Had I shrunk from a broth 
 er s embrace, I should have been either more or less than wo 
 man. I Jaad_yielded to a divine impulse, and could appeal to 
 nature and Heaven for justification. 
 
 But I had sinned. I had broken the canons of the living 
 God, and deserved a fearful chastisement. I had made unto 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 397 
 
 myself an idol, and no pagan idolater ever worshipped at his 
 unhallowed shrine with more blind devotion. I had been true 
 to Ernest, but false to my Maker, the one great and jealous God. 
 I had lived but for one object, and that object was withdrawn, 
 leaving all creation a blank. 
 
 I stood upon the lonely strand, the cold waves beating against 
 my feet, and the bleak winds piercing through my unsheltered 
 heart. I stretched out my arms to the wild waste of waters, in 
 whose billows my life-boat was whelmed, and I called, but there 
 was none to answer. I cried for help, but none came. Then I 
 looked up to heaven, and high above the darkness of the tem 
 pest and the gloom of the deep, one star shining in solitary 
 glory arrested my despairing gaze. I had seen it before with the 
 eye of faith, but never beaming with such holy lustre as now, 
 when all other lights were withdrawn. 
 
 " Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, 
 Dawn on ray darkness, and lend me thine aid. 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 Guide where the infant Redeemer is laid." 
 
 Why, tender and pitying Saviour, do we wait for the night 
 time of sorrow to fathom the depths of thy love and compassion ? 
 Why must every fountain of earthly joy be dried up, before we 
 bow to taste the waters of Kedron ; and every blossom of love 
 be withered, before we follow thee to the garden of Geth- 
 semane ? 
 
 34 
 
CHAPTER LI. 
 
 THOUGH tie circumstance of discovering a brother in the 
 lover of my youth seems more like romance than reality, noth 
 ing could be more simple and natural than the explanation of 
 the mystery. His recollection did not go back to the period re 
 corded in my mother s manuscript, when he was brought as a law 
 ful heir to the home in which my early infancy was sheltered. 
 His first remembrances were associated with a mother s sorrow 
 and loneliness, with an humble dwelling in one of the by-lanes 
 of the city of New York, where she toiled with her needle for 
 their daily bread. 
 
 " I remember," said Richard, " how I used to sit on a low 
 stool at my mother s feet, and watch her, as she wrought in 
 muslin the most beautiful flowers and devices, with a skill and 
 rapidity which seemed miraculous to me. Young as I was, I 
 used to wonder that any one could look so sad, while producing 
 such charming figures. Once, I recollect, the needle resisted 
 her efforts to draw it through the muslin. She threw it from 
 her, and taking another from the needle-case met with no better 
 success. 
 
 " Oh ! mon Dieu I she cried, dropping her work in her lap 
 and clasping her hands, my tears rust them. 
 
 " And why do you let so many fall, mother ? I asked. 
 ( Where do they all come from ? 
 
 " From a breaking heart, she answered, and I never forgot 
 her looks or her words. The breaking heart became an image 
 in my mind, almost as distinct as the rusted steel. For a long 
 time I was afraid to jump or bound about the room, lest the 
 
 (398) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 399 
 
 fracture in my mother s heart should be made wider, and more 
 tears come gushing through. 
 
 " But she did not always weep. She taught me to read, 
 while she toiled with her needle, and she told me tales of the 
 genii and of fairy-land, at twilight hour, or as she used to say, 
 entre le loup et le chien? in her own expressive, idiomatic 
 language. She told me, too, stories from the Bible, before I was 
 able to read them, of Isaac bound on the sacrificial pyre, with 
 his father kneeling by him, ready to plunge the knife in his 
 young heart, when the angels called to him out of heaven to 
 stay his uplifted hand ; of Joseph s wondrous history, from his 
 coat of many colors, fatal cause of fraternal jealousy, to the royal 
 robes and golden chain with which Pharaoh invested him ; of 
 David, the shepherd-boy, the minstrel monarch, the conqueror 
 of Philistia s giant chief. It was thus she employed the dim 
 hours between the setting sun and the rising stars ; but the 
 moment she lighted her lonely lamp she again plied her busy 
 needle, though alas ! too often rusted with her tears. 
 
 " Thus my early childhood passed, and every day my heart 
 twined more closely round my mother s heart, and I began to 
 form great plans of future achievements to be wrought for her. 
 I would be a second Joseph and go to some distant land and win 
 fame, and honors, and wealth, and send for her that I might lay 
 them all at her feet. She would not, at first, recognize her boy 
 in the purple and fine linen of his sumptuous attire ; but I 
 would fall on her neck, and lift up my voice and weep aloud, 
 and then slie would know her child. A mother s tears, Gabriel- 
 la, nurture great aspirations in a child. 
 
 " I used to accompany her to the shop when she carried home 
 her work. It was there she first met the gentleman whose 
 name I bear. Their acquaintance commenced through me, to 
 whom he seemed peculiarly attracted, and he won my admiring 
 gratitude by the gifts he lavished upon me. He came often to 
 see my mother, and though at first she shrunk from his visits, 
 she gradually came to welcome him as a friend and a benefactor. 
 
 " One evening, I think I was about eight or nine years old, 
 she took me in her arms, and told me, with many tears, that Mr. 
 
400 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Clyde, the good and kind gentleman whom I loved so much, 
 had offered to be a father to me, and was going to take us both 
 to a pleasant home in the country, where I could run about in 
 the green fields, and be free as the birds of the air. She told 
 me that perhaps my own father was living, but that he had 
 left her so long their union was annulled by law, and that she 
 had a right to marry another, and that she did so that I might 
 have a father and protector. She explained this simply, so 
 that I understood it all, and I understood too why she wished 
 me to drop my own name and take that of her future husband. 
 It was associated with so much sorrow and wrong, it was pain 
 ful to her ear, and Mr. Clyde wished me to adopt his own. He 
 was a good and honorable man, and I cherish his memory with 
 reverence and gratitude. If the fissure in my mother s heart 
 was not healed, it closed, and tears no longer dripped through. 
 
 " Our country home was pleasant and comfortable, and I rev 
 elled in the delights of nature, with all the wild passion of a 
 bird let loose from the imprisoning cage. I went to school, I 
 was in the world of action, the energies of incipient man 
 hood awoke and struggled in my bosom. We remained about 
 two years in this rural residence, situated in the western part 
 of New York, when Mr. Clyde was called to attend a dying 
 father, who lived in this town, Gabriella, not very far from the 
 little cottage in the woods where I first knew you. He took 
 my mother and myself with him, for she was in feeble health, 
 and he thought the journey would invigorate her. It did not. 
 A child of sunny France, she languished under the bleaker 
 New England skies. She was never able to return ; and he 
 who came to bury a father, soon laid a beloved wife by the 
 side of the aged. My heart went down to the grave with her, 
 and it was long before its resurrection. My step-father was 
 completely crushed by the blow, for he loved her as such a 
 woman deserved to be loved, and mourned as few mourn. He 
 remained with his aged mother in the old homestead, which she 
 refused to leave, and I was placed in the academy under the 
 charge of Mr. Regulus, where I first knew and loved you, my 
 own sister, my darling, beloved Gabriella." 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 401 
 
 If I had loved Richard before, how much more did I love him 
 now, after hearing his simple and affecting history, so similar to 
 my own. As I had never loved him otherwise than as a brother, 
 the revelation which had caused such a terrible revulsion in his 
 feelings was a sacred sanction to mine. His nerves still vibrated 
 from the shock, and he could not pronounce the word sister with 
 out a tremulousness of voice which betrayed internal agitation. 
 
 He had but little more to relate. His step-father was dead, 
 and as there was found to be a heavy mortgage on his estate, 
 he was left with a moderate income, sufficient to give him an 
 education and a start in life. His expenses in Europe had been 
 defrayed by some liberal gentlemen, who still considered them 
 selves the guardians of his reputation and his fortunes. 
 
 It was painful to me to tell the story of our father s crimes, 
 of which he had heard but a slight outline. When I described 
 our interview in the Park, he knit his brows over his flashing 
 eyes, and his whole frame quivered with emotion. 
 
 " My poor sister ! what a dreadful scene for you. What have 
 you not suffered ! but you shall never know another sorrow from 
 which I can shield you, another wrong from which I can de 
 fend." 
 
 " O Richard ! when I think of him in his lonely dungeon, 
 alone with remorse and horror ; when I think of my mother s 
 dying injunctions, I feel as if I must go to him, and fulfil the 
 holy mission she bade me perform. Read her manuscript ; you 
 have a right to its contents, though they will rend your heart to 
 peruse them ; take it with you to your own room, when you go, 
 for I cannot look on and see you read words that have been 
 driven like burning arrows through my soul." 
 
 When I again met Richard, I could see in his bloodshot eyes 
 what thoughts were bleeding within. 
 
 " My mother left me the same awful legacy," said he. " She 
 left her forgiveness, if he lived ; oblivion of all her wrongs, if dead. 
 Oh ! what bolt of vengeance is red enough for the wretch who 
 could destroy the happiness of two such women as your mother 
 and mine ! All-righteous Providence, may thy retributive fires " 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! " I cried, throwing my arms round him, and 
 34* 
 
402 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 arresting his fearful words, " he is our father, you must not curse 
 him. By our mothers ashes, by their angels, now perhaps 
 hovering over us, forbear, my brother, forbear." 
 
 " God help me," he exclaimed, his lips turning to an ashy 
 paleness, " I did not know what I was about to say ; but is it not 
 enough to drive one mad, to think of the fountain of one s life 
 being polluted, poisoned, and accursed ? " 
 
 One drop of the Saviour s blood can cleanse and make it 
 pure, my brother, if he were only led to the foot of the cross." 
 
 Richard s countenance changed ; a crimson flush swept over 
 his face, and then left it colorless. 
 
 " My hand is not worthy to lead him there," he cried, " and 
 if it were, I fear there is no mercy for so hardened, so inveter 
 ate a transgressor." 
 
 " There is, Richard, there is. Let the expiring thief bear 
 witness to a Saviour s illimitable love. Oh ! it is sinful to set 
 bounds to God s immeasurable mercy. Let us go together, my 
 brother. My mother s dream may yet be realized. Who 
 knows but our weak, filial hands, may lift our unhappy father 
 from the black abyss of sin and impenitence, Almighty God 
 assisting us ? If heavenly blessings are promised to him who 
 turns a soul from the error of his ways, think, Richard, how 
 divine the joy, if it be an erring parent s soul, thus reclaimed and 
 brought home to God ? Let us go, as soon as we have strength 
 to commence the journey. I cannot remain here, where every 
 thing reminds me of my blighted hopes and ruined happiness. 
 It seems so like a grave, Richard." 
 
 " I wonder you do not hate. I wonder you do not curse 
 me," exclaimed he, with sudden vehemence, " for it is my rash 
 ness that has wrought this desolation. Dearly have you pur 
 chased a most unworthy brother. Would I had never claimed 
 you, Gabriella ; never rolled down such a dark cloud on your 
 heart and home." 
 
 " Say not so, my beloved brother. The cloud was on my 
 heart already, and you have scarcely made it darker or more 
 chilling. I feel as if I had been living amid the thunderstorms 
 of tropic regions, where even in sunshine electric fires are 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 403 
 
 flashing. Before this shock came, my soul was sick and weary 
 of the conflicts of wild and warring passions. Oh ! you know 
 not how often I have sighed for a brother s heart to lean upon, 
 even when wedded joys were brightest, how much more 
 must I prize the blessing now ! Surely never brother and sister 
 had more to bind them to each other, than you and I, Richard. 
 Suffering and sorrow, life s holiest sacraments, have hallowed 
 and strengthened the ties of nature." 
 
 It was not long before we were able to ride abroad with Mrs. 
 Linwood and Edith, and it was astonishing how rapidly we ad 
 vanced in restoration to health. I could perceive that we were 
 objects of intense interest and curiosity, from the keen and 
 eager glances that greeted us on every side ; for the fearful 
 tragedy of which I had been the heroine, had cast a shadow 
 over the town and its surroundings. Its rumor had swept be 
 yond the blue hills, and Grandison Place was looked upon as 
 the theatre of a dark and bloody drama. This was all natural. 
 Seldom is the history of every-day life marked by events as 
 romantic and thrilling as those compressed in my brief experi 
 ence of eighteen years. And of all the deep, vehement pas 
 sions, whose exhibition excites the popular mind, there is none 
 that takes such strong hold as jealousy, the terrible hydra of 
 the human heart. 
 
 I believe I was generally beloved, and that a deep feeling of 
 sympathy for my misfortunes pervaded the community, for I 
 had never been elated by prosperity ; but Ernest, whose exclu- 
 siveness and reserve was deemed haughtiness, was far from be 
 ing popular. Mrs. Linwood was revered by all, and blessed as 
 the benefactress of the poor and the comforter of the afflicted ; 
 but she was lifted by fortune above the social level of the com 
 munity, and few, very few were on terms of intimacy with the in 
 mates of the Granite Castle, as Grandison Place was often called. 
 Its. massy stone walls, its turreted roof, sweeping lawn, and ele 
 vated position, seemed emblematic of the aristocracy of its 
 owners ; and though the blessings of the lower classes, and the 
 respect and reverence of the higher, rested upon it, there was a 
 mediocral one, such as is found in every community, that looked 
 
404 ERNEST. LI X WOOD. 
 
 with envy on those, whose characters they could not appreciate, 
 because they were lifted so high above their own level. 
 
 I have spoken of Dr. Harlowe and Mr. Regulus as the most 
 valued friends of the family ; but there was one whom it would 
 be ungrateful in me to omit, and whose pure and sacred traits 
 came forth in the dark hours through which I had just passed, 
 like those worlds of light which are never seen by day. I allude 
 to Mr. Somerville, the pastor of the parish, and who might 
 truly be called a man of God. The aged minister, who had pre 
 sided over the church during my mother s life, had been gathered 
 to his fathers, and his name was treasured, a golden sheaf, in the 
 garner of memory. The successor, who had to walk in the 
 holy footprints he had left in the valley, was obliged to take 
 heed to his steps and to shake the dust of earth from his san 
 dals as he went along. In our day of sunshine he had stood 
 someAvhat aloof, for he felt his mission was to the poor and 
 lowly, to the sons and daughters of want and affliction ; but as 
 soon as sickness and sorrow darkened the household, he came 
 with lips distilling balm, and hands ready to pour oil on the 
 bruised and wounded heart. 
 
 Methinks I see him now, as when he knelt by my bedside, 
 after I aroused from my long and deadly trance. No outward 
 graces adorned his person, but the beauty of holiness was on 
 his brow, and its low, sweet music in his somewhat feeble ac 
 cents. It seemed to me as if an angel were pleading for me, 
 and my soul, emerging as it were from the cold waves of obliv 
 ion, thrilled with new-born life. Had my spirit been nearer to 
 God during its unconscious wanderings, and brought back with 
 it impressions of celestial glory never conceived before ? 1 
 know not ; but I know that a change had passed over it, and 
 that I felt the reality of that eternity, which had seemed before 
 a grand and ever-receding shadow. 
 
 Every day, during Richard s illness and mine, came our good 
 and beloved pastor, and he always left a track of light behind 
 him. I always felt nearer heaven when he departed than when 
 he came, for its kingdom was within him. 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 405 
 
 To him I confided my wish to accompany my brother on his 
 filial mission, and he warmly approved it. 
 
 " As surely as I believe the Lord has put it into your heart 
 to go," said he, "do I believe that a blessing will follow you." 
 
 Mrs. Linwood was more tardy in her sanction. 
 
 " My dear child," she said, looking at me with the tenderest 
 compassion, "you do not know what is before you. What 
 will you do in that great city without female friendship and sym 
 pathy ? You and Richard, both so young and inexperienced 
 in the ways of the world. I will not, however, put any obsta 
 cle in his path, for man may go unshrinking where woman may 
 not tread. But you, my Gabriella, must remain with me." 
 
 " Here, where the phantom of Ernest haunts my every step, 
 where the echo of his voice is heard in every gale, and the 
 shadow of departed joy comes between me and the sunshine of 
 heaven ? What can I do here but remind you by my presence 
 of him, whom I have banished for ever from your arms ? Let 
 me go, my own dear mother, for I cannot remain passive here. 
 I shall not want female sympathy and guardianship, for Mrs. 
 Brahan is all that is kind and tender, and knows enough of my 
 sad history to be entitled to unbounded confidence. I will write 
 to her, and be guided by her, as if she were another Mrs. Lin- 
 wood." 
 
 She yielded at last, and so did Dr. Harlowe, who cheered me 
 by his cordial approval. He said it was the best thing I could 
 do for myself; for change of scene, and a strong motive of ac 
 tion, might save me from becoming a confirmed invalid. Edith 
 wept, but made no opposition. She believed I was in the path 
 of duty, and that it would be made smooth beneath my feet. 
 
 No tidings from Ernest came to interrupt the dreary blank of 
 his absence, the same continuity of anxiety and uncertainty 
 stretching on into a hopeless futurity. Again and again I said 
 to myself 
 
 " Better so a thousand times, than to live as I have done, scathed 
 by the lightning of jealousy. Even if he returned, I could not, 
 with the fear of God now before me, renew our unblest wedlock. 
 
406 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 The hand of violence has sundered us, and my heart fibres must 
 ever bleed from the wrench, but they will not again intwine. 
 He has torn himself ruthlessly from me ; and the shattered 
 vine, rent from its stay, is beginning to cling to the pillars of 
 God s temple. It is for him I pray, for him I mourn, rather 
 than myself. It is for his happiness, rather than my own justi 
 fication, that I desire him to know the history of my innocence. 
 I am Avilling to drink the cup of humiliation even to the dregs, if 
 it may not pass from me ; but spare him, O Heavenly Father, 
 the bitter, bitter chalice." 
 
 It was a bleak morning in early winter, that we commenced 
 our journey to that city, where little more than a year ago I 
 had gone a young and happy bride. As we rode along the 
 winding avenue, I looked out on the dry russet lawn, the ma 
 jestic skeleton of the great elm, stripped of the foliage and 
 hues of life, and saw the naked branches of the oaks clinging 
 to each other in sad fraternity, and heard the wind whistling 
 through them as through the shrouds of a vessel. "With an in 
 voluntary shiver I drew nearer to Richard, and hid my face 
 from the prophetic desolation of nature. 
 
CHAPTER LII. 
 
 ON our arrival in New York, we stopped at the hotel 
 
 till private lodgings could be obtained. We both wished to be as 
 retired as possible from public observation, and for this purpose 
 I remained in my room, where Richard, as my brother, had the 
 privilege of visiting me. I was anxious he should go immedi 
 ately to Mr. Brahan s ; for, added to my desire to be under the 
 influence of her feminine regard, I cherished a faint hope that 
 through him I might learn something of Ernest s mysterious 
 exile. 
 
 They both returned with Richard; and while Mr. Brahan 
 remained with him below, she came to my chamber, and wel 
 comed me with a warmth and tenderness that melted, while it 
 cheered. 
 
 " You must not stay here one hour longer," said she, pressing 
 one hand in hers, while she laid the other caressingly on my 
 short, curling hair. " You must go with me, and feel as much 
 at home as with your own Mrs. Linwood. I pass a great many 
 lonely hours, while my husband is absent engaged in business ; 
 and it will be a personal favor to me. Indeed, you must not 
 refuse." 
 
 I said something about leaving my brother, while I expressed 
 my gratitude for her kindness. 
 
 " Mr. Brahan will arrange that," she said ; " you may be as 
 sured he shall be cared for. You have not unpacked your 
 trunk ; and here is your bonnet and mantilla ready to be re 
 sumed. You did not think I would suffer you to remain among 
 strangers, when my heart has been yearning to meet you for 
 
 weary months ? " 
 
 (407) 
 
408 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 With gentle earnestness she overcame all my scruples ; and 
 it was but a little time before I found myself established as a 
 guest in the house where I first beheld the light of existence. 
 How strange it seemed, that the children of the two betrayed 
 and injured beings who had been made exiles from that roof, 
 should be received beneath its shelter after the lapse of so 
 many years ! 
 
 Mrs. Brahan accompanied me to the chamber prepared for 
 my reception ; and had I been her own daughter she could not 
 have lavished upon me more affectionate cares. The picture 
 of my mother, which I had returned when we left the city, w r as 
 hanging on the wall ; and the eyes and lips of heavenly sweet 
 ness seemed to welcome her sad descendant to the home of her 
 infancy. As I stood gazing upon it with mingled grief and 
 adoration, Mrs. Brahan encircled me with her arm, and told me 
 she understood now the history of that picture, and the mystery 
 of its wonderful resemblance to me. I had not seen her since 
 the notoriety my name had acquired, in consequence of the dia 
 monds and my father s arrest ; and she knew me now as the 
 daughter of that unhappy man. Did she know the circumstan 
 ces of the discovery of my brother, and my husband s flight ? 
 I dared not ask ; but I read so much sympathy and compassion 
 in her countenance, and so much tenderness in her manners, I 
 thought she had fathomed the depth of my sorrows. 
 
 " You look like a girl of fifteen," she said, passing her fingers 
 through my carelessly waving locks. " Your hair was very 
 beautiful, but I can scarcely regret its loss." 
 
 "I may look more juvenile, I believe I do, for every one 
 tells me so ; but the youth and bloom of my heart are gone for 
 ever." 
 
 " For ever from the lips of the young, and from those more 
 advanced in life, mean very different things," answered Mrs. 
 Brahan. " I have no doubt you have happier hours in store, 
 and you will look back to these as morning shadows melting 
 off in the brightening sunshine." 
 
 " Do you know all that has happened, dear Mrs. Brahan, 
 since I left your city ? " 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 409 
 
 " The rumor of the distressing circumstances which attended 
 the discovery of your brother reached us even here, and our 
 hearts bled for you. But all will yet be well. The terrible 
 shock you have sustained will be a death blow to the passion 
 that has caused you so much misery. Forgive me, if I make 
 painful allusions ; but I cannot suffer you to sink into the gloom 
 of despondency." 
 
 " I try to look upward. I do think the hopes which have no 
 home on earth, have found rest in heaven." 
 
 " But why, my dear young friend, do you close your heart to 
 earthly hope ? Surely, when your husband returns, you may 
 anticipate a joyful reunion." 
 
 " "When he returns ! Alas ! his will be a life-long exile. 
 Believing what he does, he will never, never return." 
 
 " But you have written and explained every thing ? " 
 
 " How can I write, when I know not where to direct, when 
 I know not to w r hat region he has wandered, or what resting- 
 place he has found ? " 
 
 " But Mr. Harland ! " said she, with a look of troubled sur 
 prise. " You might learn through him ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Linwood has written repeatedly to Mr. Harland, and 
 received no answer. She concluded that he had left the city, 
 but knew not how to ascertain his address." 
 
 " Then you did not know that he had gone to India ? I 
 thought, I believed, is it possible that you are not aware " 
 
 " Of what ? " I exclaimed, catching hold of her arm, for my 
 brain reeled and my sight darkened. 
 
 " That Mr. Linwood accompanied him," she answered, turning 
 pale at the agitation her words excited. To India ! that distant, 
 deadly clime! To India, without one farewell, one parting 
 token to her whom he left apparently on the brink of the 
 grave ! 
 
 By the unutterable anguish of that moment, I knew the de 
 lusion that had veiled my motives. I had thought it was only 
 to reclaim a lost parent that I had come, but I found it was the 
 hope of meeting the deluded wanderer, more than filial piety, 
 that had urged my departure. 
 
 35 
 
410 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 " To India ! " I cried, and my spirit felt the tossings of the 
 wild billows that lay rolling between. " Then we arc indeed 
 parted, parted for ever ! " 
 
 " Why, t is but a step from ocean to ocean, from clime to 
 clime," she said in kind, assuring accents. " Men think nothing 
 of such a voyage, for science has furnished wings which bear 
 them over space with the speed of an eagle. If you knew not 
 his destination, I should think you would rejoice rather than 
 mourn, to be relieved of the torture of suspense. Had I known, 
 that you were ignorant of the fact, I should have written months 
 ago." 
 
 " Is it certain that he is gone ? " I asked. " Did you see him ? 
 Did Mr. Brahan ? How did you learn, what we have vainly 
 sought to know ? " 
 
 " Mr. Brahan had business with Mr. Harland, and having 
 neglected some important items, followed him on board the ship 
 in which, he embarked. It was at night, and he remained but a 
 short time ; but he caught a glimpse of your husband, whom he 
 immediately recognized, but who gave him no opportunity of 
 speaking to him. Knowing he was a friend of Mr. Harland s, 
 he supposed he had come on board to bid him farewell, though 
 he was not aware of his being in the city. When we heard the 
 rumor of the tragic scenes in which he acted so dread a part, 
 and connected it with the time of Mr. Harland s departure, Mr. 
 Brahan recalled Mr. Linwood s unexpected appearance in the 
 ship, and the mystery was explained. But we dreamed not that 
 his departure was unknown to you. If you had only written 
 to us ! " 
 
 It was strange that I had never thought of the possibility of 
 their knowing any thing connected with Ernest. Mr. Harland 
 was the only gentleman with whom he was on terms of intimacy, 
 the only one to whom we thought of applying in the extremity 
 of anxiety. 
 
 " Has the ship been heard from ? What was its name ? " I 
 asked, unconscious of the folly of my first question. 
 
 " Not yet. It was called the Star of the East. A beautiful 
 and hope-inspiring name. Mr. Brahan can give you Mr. Har- 
 
EENESTLINWOOD. 411 
 
 land s address. You can write to your husband through him. 
 Every thing is as clear as noonday. Do you not already in 
 hale the fragrance of the opening flowers of joy ? " 
 
 I tried to smile, but I fear it was a woful attempt. Even the 
 scent of the roses had been crushed out of my heart. 
 
 " Your brother is an exceedingly interesting young man," she 
 observed, perceiving that I could not speak without painful 
 agitation of Ernest." I have never seen a stranger who won 
 my regard so instantaneously." 
 
 " Dear Richard ! " I cried, " he is all that he seems, and far 
 more. The noblest, kindest, and best. How sad that such a 
 cloud darkens his young manhood ! " 
 
 " It will serve as a background to his filial virtues and bring 
 them out in bright and beautiful relief. I admire, I honor him 
 a thousand times more than if he were the heir of an unspotted 
 name, a glorious ancestry. A father s crimes cannot reflect 
 shame on a son so pure and upright. Besides, he bears another 
 name, and the world knows not his clouded lineage." 
 
 My heart warmed at her generous praises of Richard, who 
 was every day more and more endeared to my affections. 
 Where was he now ? Had he commenced his mission, and 
 gone to the gloomy cell where his father was imprisoned ? He 
 did not wish me to accompany him the first time. What a 
 meeting it must be ! He had never consciously beheld his 
 father. The father had no knowledge of his deserted son. 
 In the dungeon s gloom, the living grave of hope, joy, and 
 fame, the recognition would take place. With what feelings 
 would the poor, blasted criminal behold the noble boy, on whom 
 he had never bestowed one parental care, coming like an angel, 
 if not to unbar his prison doors, to unlock for him the golden 
 gates of heaven ! 
 
 I was too weary for my journey, too much exhausted from 
 agitation to wait for Richard s return, but I could not lay my 
 head on the pillow before waiting to Mrs. Linwood and Edith, 
 and telling them the tidings I had learned of the beloved exile. 
 And now the first stormy emotions had subsided, gratitude, 
 deep and holy gratitude, triumphed over every other feeling. 
 
412 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Far, far away as he was, lie was with a friend ; he was in all 
 human probability safe, and he could learn in time how deeply 
 he had wronged me. 
 
 Often, on bended knees, with weeping eyes and rending sighs 
 had I breathed this prayer, " Only let him know that I am 
 still worthy of his love, and I am willing to resign it, let me 
 be justified in his sight, and I am willing to devote my future 
 life to Thee." 
 
 The path was opening, the way clearing, and my faith and 
 resignation about to be proved. I recognized the divine ar 
 rangement of Providence in the apparently accidental circum 
 stances of my life, and my soul vindicated the justice as well as 
 adored the mercy of the Most High. 
 
 A voice seemed whispering in my ear, "O thou afflicted 
 and tossed with tempests ! there is a haven where thy weary 
 bark shall find rest. I, who once bore the burden of life, 
 know its sorrows and temptations, its wormwood and its gall. I 
 bore the infirmities of man, that I might pity and forgive ; I 
 bore the crown of thorns, that thou mightest wear the roses of 
 Paradise ; I drained the dregs of human agony, that thou 
 mightest drink the wine of immortality. Is not my love pass 
 ing the love of man, and worth the sacrifice of earth s fleeting 
 joys?" 
 
 As the heavenly accents seemed to die away, like a strain of 
 sweet, low harmony, canie murmuring the holy refrain 
 
 " Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 Guide where the infant Redeemer is laid." 
 
CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 RICHARD had visited the Tombs, but had not seen his father. 
 The sight, the air, the ponderous gloom of the awful prison- 
 house, was as much as he had fortitude to bear ; and though he 
 had at first thought preferred meeting him in the shadows of 
 night, he recoiled from its additional horrors. 
 
 Poor fellow ! I felt heart-sick for him. On one side the mem 
 ory of his mother s wrongs, on the other, his father s suffer 
 ings and disgrace. I knew by my own bitter experience the 
 conflict he was enduring. 
 
 " After we have once met," he said, " the bitterest pang will 
 be over." 
 
 When he returned, I was shocked at the suffering his coun 
 tenance expressed. I sat down by him in silence, and took his 
 hand in mine, for I saw that his heart was full. 
 
 " I cannot take you there, Gabriella," were the first words he 
 uttered. " If my nerves are all unstrung, how will yours sus 
 tain the shock ? He told me not to bring you, that your pres 
 ence would only aggravate his sufferings." 
 
 " Did I not come to share your duties, Richard ? and will it 
 not be easier to go hand in hand, though we do tread a thorny 
 path ? I have heard of women who devote their whole lives to 
 visiting the dungeons of the doomed, and pouring oil and 
 balm into the wounds of penitence and remorse ; women who 
 know nothing of the prisoner, but that he is a sinful and suffer 
 ing son of Adam, angels of compassion, following with lowly 
 hearts the footsteps of their divine Master. O my brother, 
 think me not so weak and selfish. I will convince you that I 
 have fortitude, though you believe it not. Dr. Harlowe thinks 
 
 35 * 
 
414 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 I have a great deal. But, Richard, is it too painful to speak of 
 the interview you so much dreaded ? Does he look more 
 wretched than you feared ? " 
 
 " Look, Gabriella ! Oh, he is a wreck, a melancholy wreck of 
 a once noble man. Worn, haggard, gloomy, and despairing, he 
 is the very personification of a sin-blasted being, a lost, ruined 
 spirit. I had prepared myself for something mournful and 
 degraded, but not for such a sight as this. O what an awful 
 thing it is to give oneself up to the dominion of evil, till one 
 seems to live, and move, and have their being in it ! How awful 
 to be consumed by slow, baleful fires, till nothing but smoulder 
 ing ashes and smoking cinders are left ! My God ! Gabriella, I 
 never realized before what accursed meant." 
 
 He started up, and walked up and down the room, just as Er 
 nest used to do, unable to control the vehemence of his emo 
 tions. 
 
 " Father ! " he exclaimed, " how I could have loved, revered, 
 adored my father, had he been what my youthful heart has so 
 panted to embrace. I loved my mother, Heaven knows I 
 did ; but there always seemed majesty as well as beauty in the 
 name of father, and I longed to reverence, as well as to love. 
 Mr. Clyde was a good man, and I honored him ; he was my 
 benefactor, and I was grateful to him, but he wanted the in 
 tellectual grandeur, to which my soul longed to pay homage. I 
 was always forming an image in my own mind of what a father 
 should be, pure, upright, and commanding, a being to whom 
 I could look up as to an earthly divinity, who could satisfy the 
 wants of my venerating nature." 
 
 " It is thus I have done," I cried, struck by the peculiar sym 
 pathy of our feelings. "In the dreams of my childhood, a 
 vague but glorious form reigned with the sovereignty of a king 
 and the sanctity of a high-priest, and imagination offered daily 
 incense at its throne. Never, till I read my mother s history, 
 was the illusion dispelled. But how did he welcome you, 
 Richard? Surely he was glad and proud to find a son in 
 
 you," 
 
 " He is no longer capable of pride or joy. He is burnt out, 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 415 
 
 as it were. But he did at last show some emotion, when made 
 to believe that I was the son of Theresa. His hand trembled, 
 and his hard, sunken eye momentarily softened. " Did you 
 come here to mock and upbraid me ? " he cried, concealing his 
 sensibility under a kind of fierce sullenness. "What wrong 
 have I done you ? I deserted you, it is true, but I saved you 
 from the influence of my accursed example, which might have 
 dragged you to the burning jaws of hell. Go, and leave me to 
 my doom. Leave me in the living grave my own unhallowed 
 hands have dug. I want no sympathy, no companionship, 
 and least of all, yours. Every time I look on you, I feel as if 
 coals of fire were eating in my heart." 
 
 " Remorse, Richard," I exclaimed, " remorse ! Oh ! he feels. 
 Our ministrations will not be in vain. Did you tell him that I 
 was with you, that I came to comfort and to do him good ? " 
 
 " I did ; but he bade me tell you, that if he wanted comfort, 
 it could not come through you, that he would far rather his 
 tortures were increased than diminished, that he might, he said, 
 become inured to sufferings, which would continue as long as 
 Almighty vengeance could inflict and immortality endure. 
 My dear sister, I ought not to repeat such things, but the words 
 ring in my ears like a funeral knell." 
 
 " Let us not speak of him any more at present," he added, 
 reseating himself at my side, and he took my hand and pressed 
 it on his throbbing temples. " There is sweetness in a sister s 
 sympathy, balm in her gentle touch." 
 
 Mrs. Brahan, who had considerately left us alone, soon en 
 tered, saying it was luncheon time, and that a glass of wine 
 would do us all good. Mr. Brahan followed her, whose intelli 
 gent and animated conversation drew our minds from the sub 
 jects that engrossed our thoughts. It was well for me that I 
 had an opportunity of becoming so intimately acquainted with 
 a married pair like Mr. and Mrs. Brahan. It convinced me 
 that the most perfect confidence was compatible with the fondest 
 love, and that the purest happiness earth is capable of impart 
 ing, is found in the union of two constant, trusting hearts. 
 
 " We have been married seventeen years," said Mrs. Bra- 
 
41 6 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 han, in a glow of grateful affection, " and I have never seen a 
 cloud of distrust on my husband s brow. We have had cares, 
 as who has not, but they have only made us more dear to each 
 other, by calling forth mutual tenderness and sympathy. Ours 
 was not one of those romantic attachments which partake of the 
 wildness of insanity, but a serene, steady flame, that burns 
 brighter and brighter as life rolls on." 
 
 She spoke out of the abundance of her heart, without mean 
 ing to contrast her own bright lot with mine, but I could not 
 help envying her this unclouded sunshine of love. I tried to 
 rejoice with her, without sighing for my own darker destiny ; 
 but there is an alloy of selfishness in the purest gold of our 
 natures. At least, there is in mine. 
 
 There was another happy pair, Mr. Regulus and his wild 
 Madge. A letter from her, forwarded by Mrs. Lin wood soon 
 after our arrival in New York, breathed, in her own character 
 istic language, the most perfect felicity, mingled with heartfelt 
 sympathy and affection. Their bridal hours were saddened by 
 my misfortunes ; and they were compelled to leave me when I 
 was unconscious of their departure. Margaret was delighted 
 with every thing around and about her, the place, the people, 
 and most of all her husband ; though, in imitation of the 
 Swedish wife, she called him her bear, her buffalo, and masta- 
 don. The exuberant energies of her character, that had been 
 rioting in all their native wildness, had now a noble framework 
 to grasp round, and would in time form a beautiful domestic 
 bower, beneath whose shade all household joys and graces 
 would bloom and multiply. 
 
 I have anticipated the reception of this letter, but I feared I 
 might forget to mention it. It is delightful to see a fine charac 
 ter gradually wrought out of seemingly rough and unpromising 
 elements. It is beautiful to witness the triumph of pure, dis 
 interested affection in the heart of woman. It is sweet to know 
 that the angel of wedded love scatters thornless flowers in some 
 happy homes, that there are some thresholds not sprinkled 
 by blood, but guarded by confidence, which the destroying demon 
 of the household is not permitted to pass over. 
 
V - / 
 
 ^ 
 
 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 417 
 
 I do not like to turn back to myself, lest they who follow me 
 should find the path too shadowy and thorny. But is it not 
 said that they who go forth weeping, bearing precious seed, 
 shall come again rejoicing, bending under the weight of golden 
 sheaves ? 
 
 I wrote to Ernest for the first time, for we had never been 
 parted before. Again and again I commenced, and threw down 
 the pen in despair. My heart seemed locked, closed as with 
 Bastile bars. What words of mine could pierce through the 
 cloud of infamy in which his remembrance wrapped me ? He 
 would not believe my strange, improbable tale. He would cast 
 it from him as a device of the evil spirit, and brand me with a 
 deeper curse. ]S\3 ! if he was so willing to cast me off, to leave 
 me so coldly and cruelly, without one farewell line, one wish to 
 know whether I were living or dead, let him be. Why should 
 I intrude my vindication on him, when he cared not to hear it ? 
 He had no right to believe me guilty. Had a winged spirit 
 from another sphere come and told me that lie was false, I would 
 have spurned the accusation, and clung to him more closely and 
 more confidingly. 
 
 " But you knew his infirmity," whispered accusing conscience, 
 " even before you loved him ; and have you not seen him writh 
 ing at your feet in agonies of remorse, for the indulgence of 
 passions more torturing to himself than to you ! It is you who 
 have driven him from country and home, innocently, it is true, 
 but he is not less a wanderer and an exile. Write and tell 
 him the simple, holy truth, then folding your hands meekly over 
 your heart, leave the result to the disposal of the God of futu- 
 rity." 
 
 Then words came like water rushing through breaking ice. 
 They came without effort or volition, and I knew not what they 
 were till I saw them looking at me from the paper, like my 
 own image reflected in a glass. Had I been writing a page for 
 the book of God s remembrance, it could not have been more 
 nakedly true. I do believe there is inspiration now given to 
 the spirit in the extremity of its need, and that we often speak 
 and write as if moved by the Holy Ghost, and language comes 
 
418 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 to us in a Pentecostal shower, burning with heaven s fire, and 
 tongues of flame are put in our mouth, and our spirits move as 
 with the wings of a mighty wind. 
 
 I recollect the closing sentence of the letter. I knew it con 
 tained my fate ; and yet I felt that I had not the power to 
 change it. 
 
 " Come back to your country, your mother, and Edith. I do 
 not bid you come back to me, for it seems that the distance that 
 separates us is too immeasurable to be overcome. I remember 
 telling you, when the midnight moon was shining upon us in 
 the solitude of our chamber, that I saw as in a vision a fright 
 ful abyss opening between us, and I stood on one icy brink and 
 you on the other, and I saw you receding further and further 
 from me, and my arms vainly sought to reach over the cold 
 chasm, and my own voice came back to me in mournful echoes. 
 That vision is realized. Our hearts can never again meet till 
 that gulf is closed, and confidence firm as a rock makes a bridge 
 for our souls. 
 
 " I have loved you as man never should be loved, and that 
 love can never pass away. But from the deathlike trance in 
 which you left me, my spirit has risen with holier views of life 
 and its duties. An union, so desolated by storms of passion as 
 ours has been, must be sinful and unhallowed in the sight of 
 God. It has been severed by the hand of violence, and never, 
 with my consent, will be renewed, unless we can make a new 
 covenant, to which the bow of heaven s peace shall be an ever 
 lasting sign ; till passion shall be exalted by esteem, love sus 
 tained by confidence, and religion pure and undefiled be the 
 sovereign principle of our lives." 
 
CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 THE Tombs ! shall I ever forget my first visit to that dis 
 mal abode of crime, woe, and despair ? never ! 
 
 I had nerved myself for the trial, and went with the spirit 
 of a martyr, though with blanched cheek and faltering step, 
 into the heart of that frowning pile, on which I could never 
 gaze without shuddering. 
 
 Clinging to the arm of Richard, I felt myself borne along 
 through cold and dreary walls, that seemed to my startled ear 
 echoing with sighs and groans and curses, upward through 
 dark galleries, and passed ponderous iron doors that reminded 
 me of Milton s description of the gates of hell, till the prison 
 officer who preceded us paused before one of those grim por 
 tals, and inserting a massy key, a heavy grating sound scraped 
 and lacerated my ear. 
 
 " Wait one moment," I gasped, leaning almost powerless on 
 the shoulder of Richard. 
 
 " I feared so," said he, passing his arm around me, his eyes 
 expressing the most intense sensibility. " I knew you could not 
 bear it. Let us return, I was wrong to permit your coming 
 in the first place." 
 
 " No, no, I am able to go in now, the shock is over, I 
 am quite strong now." 
 
 And raising niy head, I drew a quick, painful breath, passed 
 through the iron door into the narrow cell, where the gloom of 
 eternal twilight darkly hung. 
 
 At first I could not distinguish the objects within, for a mist 
 was over my sight, which deepened the shadows of the dungeon 
 walls. But as my eye became accustomed to the dimness, I 
 
 (419) 
 
420 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 saw a tall, emaciated figure rising from the bed, which nearly 
 filled the limited space which inclosed us. A narrow aperture 
 in the deep, massy stone, admitted all the light which illumined 
 us after the iron door slowly closed. 
 
 The dark, sunken eyes of the prisoner gleamed like the 
 flash of an expiring taper, wild and fitful, on our entering 
 forms. He was dreadfully altered, I should scarcely have 
 recognized him through the gloomy shade of his long-neglected 
 hair, and thick, unshorn beard. 
 
 " Father," said Richard, trying to speak in a cheerful tone, 
 " I have brought you a comforter. A daughter s presence 
 must be more soothing than a son s." 
 
 I held out my hand as Richard spoke, and he took it as if it 
 were marble. No tenderness softened his countenance, he 
 jather seemed to recoil from me than to welcome. I noticed a 
 great difference in his reception of Richard. He grasped his 
 hand, and perused his features as if he could not withdraw his 
 gaze. 
 
 " Are you indeed my son ? " he asked, in an unsteady tone. 
 " Do you not mock me ? Tell me once more, are you Theresa s 
 child?" 
 
 " As surely as I believe her an angel in heaven, I am." 
 
 "Yes, yes, you have her brow and smile ; but why have 
 you come to me again, when I commanded you to stay away ? 
 And why have you brought this pale girl here, when she loathes 
 me as an incarnate fiend ? " 
 
 " No, no," I exclaimed, sinking down on the foot of the 
 bed, in hopelessness of spirit, " I pity, forgive, pray for you, 
 weep for you." 
 
 " I want neither pity, forgiveness, nor prayers," he sullenly 
 answered. " I want nothing but freedom, and that you cannot 
 give. Go back to your husband, and tell him I curse him for 
 the riches that tempted me, and you for the jewels that betrayed. 
 You might have given me gold instead of diamonds, and then I 
 would have been safe from the hell-hounds of law. Curse on 
 the sordid fear " 
 
 " Stop," cried Richard, seizing the arm he had raised in im- 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 421 
 
 precation, and fixing on him an eye of stern command. " You 
 shall not wound her ears with such foul blasphemy. Utter 
 another word of reproach to her, and I will leave you for ever 
 to the doom you merit. Is this the return you make for her 
 filial devotion? Betrayer of her mother, robber of her hus 
 band, coward as well as villain, how dare you blast her with 
 your impious curse ? " 
 
 liichard forgot at that moment he was speaking to a father, 
 in the intensity of his indignation and scorn. His eye burned, 
 his lip quivered, he looked as if he could have hurled him 
 against the granite walls. 
 
 St. James quailed and writhed out of his grasp. His face 
 turned the hue of ashes, and he staggered back like a drunken 
 man. 
 
 " I did not mean to curse her," he cried. " I am mad half the 
 time, and knoAV not what I say. Who would not be mad, cut 
 off from communion with their kind, in such a den as this, with 
 fiends whispering, and devils tempting, and know that it is not 
 for a day, a week, a month, nor even a year ; but for ten long 
 years ! And what will life be then, supposing I drag out its 
 hated length through imprisonment, and horror, and despair ? 
 What is it now ? A worn shred, a snivelled scroh 1 , a blasted 
 rclnnant of humanity ! " 
 
 He sat down again on the side of the bed, and leaning for 
 ward, bent his face downward and buried it in his hands. 
 Groans, that seemed to tear his breast as they forced their pas 
 sage, burst spasmodically from his lips. Oh ! if that travailing 
 soul, travailing in sin and sorrow, would cast itself on the 
 bosom of Divine Mercy, would prostrate itself at the foot of the 
 cross, till the scarlet dye of crime was washed white in a Sav 
 iour s blood ! What were ten years of imprisonment and an 
 guish, to eternal ages burning with the unquenchable fires of 
 remorse ! 
 
 " O father ! " I cried, moved by an irresistible impulse, and 
 approaching him with trembling steps, " these prison walls may 
 become the house of God, the gate of heaven, dark and dismal 
 as they are. The Saviour will come and dwell with you, if 
 
 36 
 
422 ERNEST L I N W O O I) . 
 
 you only look up to him in penitence and faith ; and he will 
 make them blissful with his presence. lie went into the den 
 of lions. He walked through the fiery furnace. He can rend 
 these iron doors and give you the glorious liberty of the chil 
 dren o^ God. If I could only speak as I feel, if I only knew 
 how to convince and persuade ; but alas ! my tongue is weak, 
 my words are cold. Richard will you not help me ? " 
 
 " If he will not listen to you, Gabriella, he would not be per 
 suaded though an angel spoke." 
 
 " Why do you care about my soul ? " asked the prisoner, lift 
 ing his head from his knees, and rolling his bloodshot eyes upon 
 me. 
 
 " Because you are my father," I answered, overcoming my 
 trepidation, and speaking with fervor and energy, " because 
 my mother prayed for you, and my Saviour died for you." 
 
 " Your mother ! " he exclaimed ; " who was she, that she 
 should pray for me ? " 
 
 " My mother ! " I repeated, fearing his mind was becoming 
 unsettled ; " if you have forgotten her, I do not wish to recall 
 her." 
 
 " I remember now, her name was Rosalie," he said, and a 
 strange expression passed over his countenance. " I ivas think 
 ing of my poor Theresa." 
 
 He looked at Richard as he spoke, and something like paren 
 tal tenderness softened his features. Degraded as he was, un 
 worthy as it seemed he must ever have been of woman s love, I 
 could not help a pang of exquisite pain at the thought of my 
 mother s being forgotten, while Theresa was remembered with 
 apparent tenderness. When I met him in the Park, he expressed 
 exceeding love for me for her sake, he spoke of her as the 
 beloved of his youth, as the being whose loss had driven him to 
 desperation and made him the wretch and outcast he was. And 
 now, no chord of remembrance vibrated at her name, no ray of 
 fondness for her child played upon the sacrifice I was offering. 
 It was a sordid deception then, his pretended tenderness, to 
 gain access to my husband s gold ; and I turned, heart-sick and 
 loathing away. As I did so, I caught a glimpse of a book that 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 423 
 
 looked like the Bible on a little table, between the bed and the 
 wall. TVith an involuntary motion I reached forward and 
 opened it. 
 
 " I am so glad," I cried, looking at Richard. " I wanted to 
 bring one ; but I thought I would ask permission." 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed St. James, with a ghastly smile, " we all 
 have Bibles, I believe. Like the priest s blessing, they cost 
 nothing." 
 
 " But you read it, father ! " said Richard, anxiously. " You 
 cannot fail to find light and comfort in it. You cannot be 
 altogether lonely with such a companion." 
 
 " What is the use of reading what one cannot understand ? " 
 cried he, in a gloomy tone. " Your mother was a Catholic. 
 She did not read the Bible, and if there is a heaven above, it 
 was made for such as she." 
 
 "My mother did read her Bible," answered Richard, with 
 solemnity. " She taught me to read it, making a table of her 
 knees, while her hands toiled for our subsistence. It was a 
 lamp to her path, a balm to her sorrows. She lived accord 
 ing to its precepts. She died, believing in its promises." 
 
 The glistening eyes of Richard seemed to magnetize his 
 father, so earnest, so steadfast was his gaze. 
 
 " Have you her Bible ? " he asked, in a husky voico 
 
 " I have ; it was her dying gift." 
 
 " Bring it, and read to me the chapters she loved best. Per 
 haps who knows ? Great God ! I was once a praying child 
 at my mother s knee." 
 
 Richard grasped his father s hand with a strong emotion. 
 
 " I will bring it, father. "We will read it together, and her 
 spirit will breathe into our hearts. The pages are marked by 
 her pencil, blistered by her tears." 
 
 " Yes, bring it ! " he repeated. " Who knows ? Just heaven ! 
 who knows ? " 
 
 Who, indeed, did know what influence that book, embalmed 
 in such sacred memories, might have on the sinner s blasted 
 heart ? The fierceness and sullenness that had repelled and ter 
 rified me on our first entrance had passed away, and sensibility, 
 
424 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 roused from an awful paralysis, started at the ruins it beheld. 
 There was hope, since he could feel. Richard s filial mission 
 might not be in vain. But mine was. I realized this before I 
 left the cell, and resolved to yield to him the task which I had 
 hoped to share. I could not help feeling grieved and disap 
 pointed, not so much on my own account, as for the indifference 
 manifested to my mother s memory, that mother who had 
 loved him, even to her dying hour. 
 
 My heart hardened against him ; but when I rose to go, and 
 looked round on the narrow and dismal tomb in which he was 
 inclosed, and then on his hollow cheek and wasted frame, and 
 thought in all human probability those walls would prove his 
 grave, it melted with the tenderest compassion. 
 
 " Is there any thing I can do for your comfort ? " I asked, 
 trying in vain to keep back the rushing tears. " Can I send 
 you any thing to do you good ? If you wish to see me again, 
 tell Richard, and I will come ; but I do not wish to be in the 
 way. He, I see, can do every thing I could do, and far 
 more. I thought a daughter could draw so near a father s 
 heart ! " 
 
 I stopped, choked with emotion which seemed contagious, for 
 Richard turned aside and took up his handkerchief, which had 
 dropped upon the bed. St. James was agitated. He gave the 
 hand which I extended a spasmodic pressure, and looked from 
 me to Richard, and then back again, with a peculiar, hesitating 
 expression. 
 
 " Forgive me," said he, in a gentler accent than I had yet 
 heard him use, " my harsh, fierce words ; as I told you, it was a 
 demon s utterance, not mine. You would have saved me, I 
 know you would. I made you unhappy, and plunged into per 
 dition myself. No, you had better not come again. You are 
 too lovely, too tender for this grirn place. My boy will come ; 
 and you, you, my child, may pray for me, if you do not think 
 it mockery to ask God to pardon a wretch like me." 
 
 I looked in his face, inexpressibly affected by the unexpected 
 gentleness of his words and manner. Surely the spirit of God 
 was beginning to move over the stagnant waters of sin and 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 425 
 
 despair. I was about to leave him, the lonely, the doomed. 
 I, too, was lonely and doomed. 
 
 " Father ! " I cried, and with an impulse of pity and anguish 
 I threw my arms round him and wept as if my heart was 
 breaking ; " I would willingly wear out my life in prayer for 
 you, but O, pray for yourself. One prayer from your heart 
 would be worth ten thousand of mine." 
 
 I thought not of the haggard form I was embracing ; I 
 thought of the immortal soul that inhabited it ; and it seemed a 
 sacred ruin. He clasped me convulsively to him one moment, 
 then suddenly withdrawing his arms, he pushed me towards 
 Richard, not harshly, but as if bidding him take care of me ; 
 and throwing himself on the bed, he turned his face downward, 
 so that his long black hair covered it from sight. 
 
 " Let us go," said Richard, in a low voice ; " we had better 
 leave him now." 
 
 As we were passing very softly out of the cell, he raised his 
 head partially, and calling to Richard, said, 
 
 " Come back, my son, to-morrow. I have something to tell 
 you. I ought to do it now, while you are both here, but to 
 morrow will do ; and do n t forget your mother s Bible." 
 
 Again we traversed the stone galleries, the dismal stairs, and 
 our footsteps left behind us a cold, sepulchral sound. Neither 
 of us spoke, for a kind of funeral silence solemnized our hearts. 
 I looked at one of the figures that were gliding along the upper 
 galleries, though there were many of them, prisoners, who 
 being condemned for lighter offences than murder or forgery, 
 were allowed to walk under the eye of a keeper. I was con- 
 scious of passing them, but they only seemed to deepen the 
 gloom, like ravens and bats flapping their wings in a deserted 
 tower. 
 
 As we came into the light of day, which, struggling through 
 massy ridges of darkness, burst between the grand and gloomy 
 columns that supported the fabric, I felt as if a great stone were 
 rolling from my breast. I raised the veil, which I had drawn 
 closely over my face, to inhale the air that flowed from the 
 
 36* 
 
426 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 world withe ut. I was coining out of darkness into light, out- jf 
 imprisonment into freedom, sunshine, and the breath of heaven. 
 
 There were men traversing the vestibule in many directions ; 
 and Richard hurried me on, that I might escape the gaze of 
 curiosity or the stare of impertinence. Against one of the pil 
 lars which we passed, a gentleman was standing, whose figure 
 was so striking as to attract my abstracted eye. I had seen 
 him before. I knew him instantaneously, though I had only 
 had a passing glimpse of him the morning we left the Falls. It 
 was the gentleman who had accosted Julian, and who had stamped 
 himself so indelibly on my memory. And now, as I came 
 nearer, I was struck by a resemblance in his air and features to 
 our unhappy father. It is true there was the kind of difference 
 there is between a fallen spirit and an angel of light ; for the 
 expression of the stranger s face was noble and dignified, as if 
 conscious that he still wore undefaced the image of his Maker. 
 He lifted his hat as we passed, with that graceful courtesy 
 which marks the gentleman, and I again noticed that the dark 
 waves of his hair were mingled with snow. It reminded me 
 of those wreaths of frost I had seen hanging from the ever 
 greens of Grandison Place. 
 
 The singularity of the place, the earnestness of his gaze, and 
 the extraordinary attraction I felt towards him, brought the 
 warm, bright color to my cheeks, and I instinctively dropped 
 the veil which I had raised a moment before. As we entered 
 the carriage, which had been kept in waiting, the horses, high- 
 spirited and impatient, threatened to break loose from the 
 driver s control, when the stranger, coming rapidly forward, 
 stood at their heads till their transient rebellion was over. It 
 was but an instant; for as Richard leaned from the carriage 
 window to thank him, the horses dashed forward, and I only 
 caught one more glimpse of his fine, though pensive features. 
 
 " Richard, did you not perceive a resemblance to our father 
 in this gentleman, noble and distinguished as he appears ? I 
 was struck with it at the first glance." 
 
 ** Yes, there is a likeness ; but not greater than we very often 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 427 
 
 see strangers bearing to each other. My father must once have 
 been a fine looking man, though now so sad a wreck. A life 
 of sinful indulgence, followed by remorse and retribution, leaves 
 terrible scars on the face as well as the soul." 
 
 " But how strange it is, that we are sometimes so drawn to 
 wards strangers, as by a loadstone s power ! I saw this gentle 
 man once before, at the Falls of Niagara, and I felt the same 
 sudden attraction that I do now. I may never see him again. 
 It is not probable that I ever shall ; but it will be impossible 
 for me to forget him. I feel as if he must have some influence 
 on my destiny ; and such a confidence in his noble qualities, 
 that if I were in danger I would appeal to him for protection, 
 and in sorrow, for sympathy and consolation. You smile, 
 Richard. I dare say it all sounds foolish to you, but it is even 
 so." 
 
 " Not foolish, but romantic, my own darling sister. I like 
 such sentiments. I like any thing better than the stereotyped 
 thoughts of the world. You have a right to be romantic, Ga- 
 briella, for your life has been one of strange and thrilling 
 interest." 
 
 " Yes ; strange indeed ! " I answered, while my soul rolled 
 back on the billows of the past, wondering at the storms that 
 heaved them so high, when life to many seemed smooth as a 
 sea of glass. Then I thought how sweet the haven of eternal 
 repose must be to the wave-worn mariner ; how much sweeter 
 to one who had had a tempestuous voyage, than one who had 
 been floating on a tranquil current ; and the closing verse of an 
 old hymn came melodiously to my recollection : 
 
 " There will I bathe my weary soul 
 
 In seas of endless rest, 
 And not a Avave of trouble roll 
 Across my peaceful breast." 
 
CHAPTER LV. 
 
 WHAT a contrast did the large, airy, pleasant nursery room 
 of Mrs. Brahan present, to the narrow cell I had so lately 
 quitted ! I accompanied her there after dinner, while Richard, 
 anxious to follow up the impression he had made, returned to 
 the prison, taking with him his mother s Bible. I had hardly 
 thought of the communication which he said he wished to make, 
 till I saw Richard depart. Then it recurred to me ; but it did 
 not seem possible that it could interest or affect me much, though 
 it might my brother. 
 
 I have not spoken of Mrs. Brahan s children, because I have 
 had so much to say of others ; but she had children, and very 
 lovely ones, who were the crowning blessings of her home. 
 Her eldest were at school, but there were three inmates of the 
 nursery, from five to ten years of age, adorned with the sweetest 
 charms of childhood, brightness, purity, and bloom. She called 
 them playfully her three little graces ; and I never admired her 
 so much, as when she made herself a child in their midst, and 
 participated in their innocent amusements. After supper they 
 were brought into the parlor to be companions of their father 
 one hour, which he devoted exclusively to their instruction and 
 recreation; but after dinner Mrs. Brahan took the place of 
 the nurse, or rather governess, and I felt it a privilege to be 
 with her, it made me feel so entirely at home, and the presence 
 of childhood freshened and enlivened the spirits. It seemed as 
 if fairy fingers were scattering rose-leaves on my heart. Was 
 it possible that these young, innocent creatures would ever be 
 come hardened by worldliness, polluted by sin, or saddened by 
 sorrow ? And yet the doomed dweller of the Tombs had said 
 
 (428) 
 
ERNEST LINWOOD. 429 
 
 that morning, " that he was once a praying child at his mother s 
 knee ! " How would that mother have felt, if, when his inno 
 cent hands were folded on her lap and his cherub lips repeated 
 words which perhaps angels interpreted, she could have looked 
 into future years, and beheld the condemned and blasted being 
 in whose withering veins her own lifeblood was flowing ? 
 
 While I was reclining on the children s bed and the youngest 
 little girl was playing with my ringlets, as short and childish as 
 her own, I was told a gentleman was in the parlor, who inquired 
 for me. 
 
 "Cannot I excuse myself?" I asked of Mrs. Brahan. "I 
 did not wish any one to know that I was in the city. I did not 
 wish to meet any of my former acquaintances." 
 
 Then it suddenly flashed into my mind, that it might be some 
 one who brought tidings of Ernest, some one who had met the 
 " Star of the East," on his homeward voyage. There was 
 nothing wild in the idea, and when I mentioned it to Mrs. Bra 
 han, she said it was possible, and that I had better go down. 
 Supposing it was a messenger of evil ! I felt as if I had borne 
 all I could bear, and live. Then all at once I thought of the 
 stranger whom I had seen in the vestibule of the prison, and I 
 was sure it was he. But who was he, and why had he come ? 
 I was obliged to stop at the door, to command my agitation, so 
 nervous had I been made by the shock from which I had not 
 yet recovered. My cheeks burned, but my hands were cold 
 as ice. 
 
 Yes, it was he. The moment I opened the door, I recognized 
 him, the stately stranger of the Tombs. He was standing in 
 front of the beautiful painting of the fortress, and his face was 
 from me. But he turned at my entrance, and advanced eagerly 
 to meet me. He was excessively pale, and varying emotions 
 swept over his countenance, like clouds drifted by a stormy 
 wind. Taking both my hands in his, he drew me towards him, 
 with a movement I had no power to resist, and looked in my 
 face with eyes in which every passion of the soul seemed con 
 centrated, but in which joy like a sun-ray shone triumphant. 
 
 Even before he opened his arms and clasped me to his 
 
430 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 bosom, I felt an invisible power drawing me to his heart, and 
 telling me I had a right to be there. 
 
 " Gabriella ! child of my Rosalie ! my own lost darling ! " 
 he exclaimed, in broken accents, folding me closer and closer 
 in his arms, as if fearing I would vanish from his embrace. 
 " Gracious God ! I thank thee, Heavenly Father ! I bless 
 thee for this hour. After long years of mourning, and bereave 
 ment, and loneliness, to find a treasure so dear, to feel a joy so 
 holy ! Oh, my God, what shall I render unto Thee for all thy 
 benefits ! " 
 
 Then he bowed his head on my neck, and I felt hot tears 
 gushing from his eyes, and sobs, like the deep, passionate sobs 
 of childhood, convulsing his breast. 
 
 Yes, he was my father. I knew it, I felt it, as if the 
 voice of God had spoken from the clouds of heaven to pro 
 claim it. He was my father, the beloved of my angelic 
 mother, and he had never wronged her, never. He had not 
 been the deceiver, but the deceived. Without a word of ex 
 planation I believed this, for it was written as if in sunbeams 
 on his noble brow. The dreams of my childhood were all 
 embodied in him ; and overpowered by reverence, love, gratitude, 
 and joy, I slid from his arms, and on bended knees and with 
 clasped hands, looked up in his face and repeated again and 
 again the sacred name of " Father." 
 
 It is impossible to describe such bewildering, such intense 
 emotions. Seldom, except in dreams, are they felt, when the 
 spirit seems free from the fetters of earth. Even when I found 
 myself sitting by his side, still encircled in his arms and lean 
 ing on his heart, I could scarcely convince myself that the 
 scene was real. 
 
 " And Richard, my brother ! " I cried, beginning to feel be 
 wildered at the mysteries that were to be unravelled ; " joy is 
 not perfect till he shares it with me." 
 
 " Will it make you unhappy, my darling Gabriella, to know 
 that Richard is your cousin, instead of your brother ? " 
 
 I pressed my hands on my forehead, for it ached with the 
 quick, lightning-like thoughts that flashed through my brain. 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 43 1 
 
 " And he, the inmate of yon dismal cell ? " I exclaimed, an 
 ticipating, as if by intuition, the reply, 
 
 u Is my brother, my twin brother, whom in youth our mother 
 could not distinguish from myself. This fatal resemblance has 
 caused all my woe. Theresa la Fontaine was his wife and 
 Richard is his son, not mine." 
 
 How simple, how natural, all this seemed ! Why had not my 
 mother dreamed of the possibility of such a thing ! Knowing 
 the existence of this brother, why had she not at once found in 
 him the solution of the dark problem, which was the enigma 
 as well as anguish of her life ? " 
 
 " My unhappy brother ! " said he, while a dark shade rested 
 on his brow ; " little did I think, when I visited his dungeon this 
 morning, of the revelation he would make ! I have been an 
 exile and a wanderer many years, or I might perhaps have 
 learned sooner what a blessing Heaven has been guarding for 
 my sad and lonely heart. I saw you as you passed out of the 
 prison, and your resemblance to my beloved Rosalie struck me, 
 as an electric shock." 
 
 " And yours to him whom I believed my father, had the same 
 effect on me. How strange it was, that then I felt as if I would 
 give worlds to call you father, instead of the wretched being I 
 had just quitted." 
 
 " Then you are willing to acknowledge me, my beloved, my 
 lovely daughter," said he, pressing a father s kiss on my fore 
 head, from which his hand fondly put back the clustering locks. 
 " My daughter ! let me repeat the name. My daughter ! how 
 sweet, how holy it sounds ! Had she lived, or had she only 
 known before she died, the constancy and purity of my love ; 
 but forgive me, thou Almighty chastener of man s erring heart! 
 I dare not murmur. She knows all this now. She has given 
 me her divine forgiveness." 
 
 " She left it with me, father, to give you ; not only her for 
 giveness, but her undying love, and her dying blessing." 
 
 Withdrawing the arm with which he still embraced me, he 
 bowed his face on his hands, and I hardly dared to breathe lest 
 I should disturb the sacredness of his emotions. " She knows 
 
432 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 all this now." My heart repeated the words. Methoughe th<5 
 wings of her spirit were hovering round us, her husband and 
 her child, whom the hand of God had brought together after 
 years of alienation and sorrow. And other thoughts pressed 
 down upon me. By and by, when we were all united in that 
 world, where we should know even as we are known, Ernest 
 would read my heart, by the light of eternity, and then he 
 would know how I loved him. There would be no more sus 
 picion, or jealousy, or estrangement, but perfect love and per 
 fect joy would absorb the memory of sorrow. 
 
 " And you are married, my Gabriella ? " were the first words 
 iny father said, when he again turned towards me. " How diffi 
 cult to realize ; and you looking so very young. Young as you 
 really are, you cheat the eye of several years of youth ! " 
 
 " I was very ill, and when I woke to consciousness, I found 
 myself shorn of the glory of womanhood, my long hair." 
 
 " You are so like my Kosalie. Your face, your eyes, your 
 smile ; and I feel that you have her pure and loving heart. 
 Heaven preserve it from the blight that fell on hers ! " 
 
 The smile faded from my lip, and a quick sigh that I could 
 not repress saddened its expression. The eyes of my father 
 were bent anxiously on me. 
 
 " I long to see the husband of my child," said he. " Is he 
 not with you?" 
 
 " No, my father, he is far away. Do not speak of him now, 
 I can only think of you." 
 
 " If he is faithless to a charge so dear," exclaimed St. James, 
 with a kindling glance. 
 
 " Nay, father ; but I have so much to tell, so much to hear, 
 rny brain is dizzy with the thought. You shall have all my 
 confidence, believe me you shall ; and oh, how sweet it is to 
 think that I have a father s breast to lean upon, a father s 
 arms to shelter me, though the storms of life may blow cold 
 and dreary round me, and such a father ! after feeling such 
 anguish and shame from my supposed parentage. Poor Richard ! 
 how I pity him ! " 
 
 " You love him, then ? Believing him your brother, you 
 have loved him as such ? " 
 
ERNEST L I Jf W O O D . 43o 
 
 " I could not love him better were he indeed my brother. 
 He was the friend of my childhood," and a crimson hue stole 
 over my face at the remembrance of a love more passionate 
 than a brother s. " He is gifted with every good and noble 
 quality, every pure and generous feeling, friend, brother, 
 cousin it matters not which he will ever be the same to 
 me." 
 
 Then I spoke of Mrs. Lin wood, my adopted mother, of 
 my incalculable obligations, my unutterable gratitude, love, and 
 admiration, of the lovely Edith and her sisterly affection, 
 and I told him how I longed that he should see them, and that 
 they should know that I had a father, whom I was proud to ac 
 knowledge, instead of one who reflected disgrace even on 
 them. 
 
 " Oh ! I have so much to tell, so much to hear," I again re 
 peated. " I know not when or where we shall begin. It is so 
 bewildering, so strange, so like a dream. I fear to let go your 
 hand lest you vanish from my sight and I lose you forever." 
 
 " Ah, my child, you cannot feel as I do. You have enshrined 
 other images in your heart, but mine is a lonely temple, into 
 which you come as a divinity to be worshipped, as well as a 
 daughter to be loved. I did not expect such implicit faith, such 
 undoubting confidence. I feared you would shrink from a stran 
 ger, and require proofs of the truth of his assertions. I dared 
 not hope for a greeting so tender, a trust so spontaneous." 
 
 " Oh ! I should as soon doubt that God was my Father in 
 heaven, as you my father on eartfc I know it, I do not believe 
 it." 
 
 I think my feelings must have been something like a blind 
 person s on first emerging from the darkness that has wrapped 
 him from his birth. He does not ask, when the sunbeams fall 
 on his unclouded vision, if it be light. He knows it is, because it 
 fills his new-born capacities for sight, he knows it is, by the 
 shadows that roll from before it. I knew it was my father, be 
 cause he met all the wants of my yearning filial nature, because 
 I felt him worthy of honor, admiration, reverence, and love. 
 
 I know not how long I had been with him, when Mr. Brahan 
 37 
 
434 E R NEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 entered ; and though it had been seventeen years since he had 
 seen him, he immediately recognized the artist he had so much 
 admired. 
 
 " I have found a daughter, sir," said St. James, grasping his 
 hand with fervor. He could not add another word, and no 
 other was necessary. 
 
 "I told her so," cried Mr. Brahan, after expressing the 
 warmest congratulations ; " I told her husband so. I knew the 
 wretch who assumes your name was an impostor, though he 
 wonderfully resembles yourself." 
 
 " He has a right to the name he bears," answered my father, 
 and his countenance clouded as it always did when he alluded 
 to his brother. " We are twin brothers, and our extraordinary 
 resemblance in youth and early manhood caused mistakes as 
 numerous as those recorded in the Comedy of Errors, and laid 
 the foundation of a tragedy seldom found in the experience of 
 life." 
 
 While they were conversing, I stole from the room and ran 
 up stairs to tell Mrs. Brahan the wondrous tidings. Her sym 
 pathy was as heart-felt as I expected, her surprise less. She 
 never could believe that man my father. Mr. Brahan always 
 said he was an impostor, only he had no means to prove it. 
 
 " How beautiful ! " she said, her eyes glistening with sympa 
 thetic emotion, " that he should find you here, in his own wed 
 ded home, the place of your birth, the spot sanctified by 
 the holiest memories of love. Has not your filial mission been 
 blest ? Has not Providence led you by a way you little 
 dreamed of? My dear Gabriella, you must not indulge another 
 sad misgiving or gloomy fear. Indeed you must not." 
 
 " I know I ought not ; but come and see my father." 
 
 " What is he like ?" she asked, with a smile. 
 
 " Like the dream of my childhood, when I imagined him one 
 of the sons of God, such as once came down to earth." 
 
 " Romantic child ! " she exclaimed ; but when she saw my 
 father, I read admiration as well as respect in her speaking eye, 
 and I was satisfied with the impression he had made. 
 
 Richard came soon after, informed by his father of all I 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 435 
 
 could tell him and a great deal more, which he subsequently 
 related to me. I think he was happier to know that he 
 was my cousin, than when he believed himself my brother. 
 The transition from a lover to a brother was too painful. He 
 could not divest himself of the idea of guilt, which, however in 
 voluntary, made him shudder in remembrance. But a cousin ! 
 The tenderness of natural affection and the memories of love, 
 might unite in a bond so near and dear, and hallow each other. 
 
 In the joy of my emancipation from imagined disgrace, I did 
 not forget that the cloud still rested darkly on him, that he 
 still groaned under the burden which had been lifted from my 
 soul. He told me that he had hope of his father s ultimate 
 regeneration, that he had found him much softened, that he 
 wept at the sight of Theresa s Bible, and still more when he 
 read aloud to him the chapters which gave most consolation to 
 her dying hours. 
 
 The unexpected visit of his brother, from whom he had been 
 so long separated, and whom he supposed was dead, had stirred 
 still deeper the abysses of memory and feeling. 
 
 I will now turn a little while from myself, and give a brief 
 history of the twin brothers, as I learned it from my father s lips, 
 and Richard s, who narrated to me the story of his father s life 
 as he heard it in the dungeon of the Tombs. 
 
CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 HENRY Gabriel and Gabriel Henry St. James, were born 
 in the Highlands of New York. Their father was of English 
 extraction, though of American birth ; their mother the daughter 
 of a French refugee, who had sought shelter in the land of free 
 dom from the storms of the Revolution. So the elements of 
 three nations mingled in their veins. 
 
 There was nothing remarkable in their childhood, but their 
 resemblance to each other, which was so perfect that their own 
 mother was not able to distinguish the one from the other. 
 Perhaps either of them, seen separately, would not have excited 
 extraordinary interest, but together they formed an image of 
 dual beauty as rare as it was attractive. They were remarkable 
 for their fine physical development, their blooming health, and 
 its usual accompaniments, sunhiness of temper, and gaiety of 
 spirits ; but even in early childhood the.se twin-born bodies 
 showed that they were vitalized by far different souls. Their 
 father was a sea-captain ; and while Gabriel would climb his 
 knees and listen with eager delight to tales of ocean life and 
 stirring adventures, Henry, seated at his mother s feet, with his 
 hands clasped on her lap and his eyes riveted on her face, 
 would gather up her gently sparkling words in his young heart, 
 and they became a pavement of diamonds, indestructible as it 
 was bright and pure. 
 
 As they grew older, the master-passion of each became more 
 apparent. Gabriel made mimic boats and ships, and launched 
 them on the bosom of a stream which flowed back of their 
 dwelling, an infant argosy freighted with golden hopes. Henry 
 drew figures on the sandy shore, of birds and beasts and creep- 
 
 (436) 
 
E R N E S T L I N W O O D . 437 
 
 ing things, and converted every possible material into tablets for 
 the impressions of his dawning genius. Gabriel was his father s 
 darling, Henry his mother s beloved. I said she could not dis 
 tinguish her twin-born boys ; but when she looked into their 
 eyes, there was something in the earnest depths of Henry s, an 
 answering expression of love and sensibility, which she sought 
 in vain in his brother s. The soul of the sea-dreaming boy was 
 not with her ; it was following the father on the foaming paths 
 of ocean. 
 
 * My boys shall go with me on my next voyage," said the 
 captain. " It is time to think of making men of them. They 
 have been poring over books long enough to have a holiday ; 
 and, by the living Jove, they shall have it. It is the ruin of 
 boys to be tied to their mother s apron strings after they are 
 twelve years old. They are fit for nothing but peddlers or col 
 porteurs." 
 
 Gabriel clapped his hands exultingly ; but Henry drew closer 
 to his mother s side. 
 
 " My hero, my young brave," cried the captain, slapping his 
 favorite boy on the shoulder, " you are worth a dozen such girl- 
 boys as your brother. Let him be a kitten and cry mew, if he 
 will, while you climb the topgallant-mast and make ladders of 
 the clouds." 
 
 " I am as brave as he is," said Henry, straightening his 
 youthful figure, and looking at his father with a kindling eye. 
 " I am not afraid of the water ; but who will protect my mother, 
 if I go away with you ? " 
 
 " Bravo ! There is some spirit in the boy after all," ex 
 claimed the captain, who loved his wife with the devotion and 
 constancy of a sailor. " He has chosen an honorable post, and 
 by heaven I will not force him to leave it. I see that nature, 
 w r hen she gave us twins, intended we should go shares in our 
 boys. It is just. Gabriel shall go with me, but the silver cup 
 of fortune may after all find its way in Henry s sack." 
 
 Thus at twelve years of age the twin brothers separated, and 
 from that era their life-paths diverged into a constantly widen 
 ing angle. 
 
 37* 
 
438 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 The captain discovered too late the error he had committed 
 in cultivating the roving propensities of his son, to the exclusion 
 of steady, nobler pursuits. He had intended merely to give 
 him a holiday, and a taste of a seafaring life ; but after revel 
 ling in the joys of freedom, he found it impossible to bind him 
 down to the restraints of scholastic life. He wanted him to go 
 to college, but the young rover bravely refused obedience to 
 parental authority, saying, that one genius in a family was 
 enough ; and the father, gazing with pride on the wild, hand 
 some, and dauntless boy, said there was no use in twisting the 
 vine the wrong way, and yielded to his will. Henry, imbo- 
 somed in classic shades, gathered the fruits of science and 
 the flowers of literature, while his genius as an artist, though 
 apparently dormant, waited the Ithuriel touch of opportunity to 
 wake into life and action. 
 
 Captain St. James had prospered in his enterprises and ac 
 quired a handsome fortune, so that his sons would not be 
 dependent on their own exertions for support. Gabriel unfor 
 tunately knew this circumstance too well, and on the faith of 
 his father s fortune indulged in habits of extravagance and dis 
 sipation as ruinous as they were disgraceful. The captain did 
 not live to witness the complete degradation of his favorite son. 
 His vessel was wrecked on a homeward voyage, and the waves 
 became the sailor s winding-sheet. His w r ife did not long sur 
 vive him. She died, pining for the genial air of her own sunny 
 clime, leaving the impress of her virtues and her graces on the 
 character of one of her sons. Alas for the other ! 
 
 Free now from parental restraint, as he had long been from 
 moral obligations, Gabriel plunged into the wildest excesses of 
 dissipation. In vain Henry lifted his warning voice, in vain 
 he extended his guardian hand, to save him who had now be 
 come the slave as well as the votary of vice. His soul clave to 
 his brother with a tenderness of affection, which neither his sel 
 fishness nor vices, not even his crimes, could destroy. A gam 
 bler, a roue, every thing but a drunkard, he at length became 
 involved in so disgraceful a transaction, he was compelled for 
 safetv to flee the country ; and Henry, ignorant what course he 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 439 
 
 had taken, gave him up in despair, and tried to forget the ex 
 istence of one whose remembrance could only awaken sorrow 
 and shame. lie went to Europe, as has been previously related, 
 and with the eye of a painter and the heart of a poet, travelled 
 from clime to clime, and garnered up in his imagination the 
 sublimities of nature and the wonders of art. His genius grew 
 and blossomed amid the w r arm and fostering influences of an 
 elder world, till it formed, as it were, a bower around him, in 
 whose perennial shades he could retire from haunting memo 
 ries and uncongenial associations. 
 
 In the mean time, Gabriel had found refuge in his mother s 
 native land. During his wild, roving life, he had mingled much 
 with foreigners, and acquired a perfect knowledge of the French 
 language, I should rather say his knowledge was perfected 
 by practice, for the twin brothers had been taught from infancy 
 the melodious and expressive language of their mother s native 
 clime. The facility with which he conversed, and his ex 
 tremely handsome person, w r ere advantages whose value he 
 well knew how to appreciate, and to make subservient to his 
 use. 
 
 It was at this time that he became acquainted with Theresa 
 Josephine La Fontaine, and his worn and sated passions were 
 quickened into new life. She was not beautiful, " but fair and 
 excellent," and of a character that exercises a commanding 
 influence over the heart of man. Had he known her before 
 habits of selfish indulgence had become, like the Ethiopian s 
 skin and the leopard s spots, too deep and indelible for chemic 
 art to change, she might perhaps have saved him from the trans 
 gressor s doom. She loved him with all the ardor of her pure, 
 yet impassioned nature, and fully believed that her heart was 
 given to one of the sons of light, instead of the children of 
 darkness. For awhile his sin-dyed spirit seemed to bleach in 
 the whitening atmosphere that surrounded him, for a father s as 
 well as a husband s joy was his. But at length the demon of 
 ennui possessed him. Satan was discontented in the bowers of 
 Paradise. Gabriel sighed for his profligate companions, in the 
 bosom of wedded love and joy. He left home on a false pre- 
 
440 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 tence, and never returned. It was long before Theresa admit 
 ted a doubt of his faith, and it was not till a rumor of his mar 
 riage in America reached her ear, that she believed it possible 
 that he could deceive and betray her. An American traveller 
 from New York, who knew Henry St. James and was uncon 
 scious of the existence of his brother, spoke of his marriage 
 and his beautiful bride in terms that roused every dormant pas 
 sion in the breast of the deserted Theresa. Yet she waited 
 long in the hope and the faith of woman s trusting heart, cling 
 ing to the belief of her husband s integrity and truth, with 
 woman s fond adhesiveness. At length, when she had but con 
 vincing reason to believe herself a betrayed and abandoned 
 wife, she took her boy in her arms, crossed the ocean waste, 
 landed in New York, and by the aid of a directory sought the 
 home of Henry St. James, deeming herself the legitimate mis 
 tress of the mansion she made desolate by her presence. The 
 result of her visit has been already told. She unconsciously 
 destroyed the happiness of others, without securing her own. 
 It is not strange, that in the moment of agony and distraction 
 caused by the revelation made by Theresa, Rosalie should not 
 have noticed in the marriage certificate the difference between 
 the names of Henry Gabriel and Gabriel Henry St. James. 
 
 Henry St. James had been summoned to Texas, then the 
 Botany Bay of America, by his unhappy brother, who had there 
 commenced a new career of sin and misery. He had gambled 
 away his fortune, killed a man in a scene of strife and blasphe 
 my, been convicted of homicide, escaped from the sentence, and, 
 lurking in by-lanes and accursed places, fell sick, and wrote to 
 his brother to come and save him from infamy and death. 
 
 How could he wound the spotless ears of Rosalie by the tale 
 of his brother s guilt and shame ? He had never spoken to her 
 of his existence, the subject was so exquisitely painful, for he 
 believed himself for ever separated from him, and why should 
 his blasted name cast a shadow over the heaven of his domestic 
 happiness ? 
 
 After having raised his miserable brother from the gulf of 
 degradation in which he had plunged, and given him the mean3 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 441 
 
 of establishing himself in some honorable situation, which he 
 promised to seek, he returned to find his home occupied by 
 strangers, his wife and child fled, his happiness wrecked, and his 
 peace destroyed. The deluded and half frantic Theresa, believ 
 ing him to be her husband, appealed to him, by the memory of 
 their former love and wedded felicity, to forgive the steps she 
 had taken that she might assert the claims of her deserted boy. 
 Maddened by the loss of the wife whom he adored, he became 
 for the time a maniac ; and so terrible was his indignation and 
 despair, the unhappy victim of his brother s perfidy fled trem 
 bling and dismayed from his presence. 
 
 In the calmer moments that succeeded the first paroxysms of 
 his agony, Henry thought of his brother and of the extraordi 
 nary resemblance they bore to each other, and the mystery 
 which frenzied passion had at first veiled from his eyes was 
 partially revealed to his understanding. Could he then have 
 seen her, and could she prove that she was the wife of Gabriel, 
 he would have protected her with a brother s care and tender 
 ness. But his first thought was for Rosalie, the young, the 
 beloved, the deceived, the fugitive Rosalie, of whose flight no 
 clue could be discovered, no trace be found. The servants 
 could throw no light on the mystery, for she had left in the 
 darkness and silence of night. They only knew that Peggy 
 disappeared at the same time, and was probably her companion. 
 This circumstance afforded a faint relief to Henry s distracted 
 mind, for he knew Peggy s physical strength and moral courage, 
 as well as her remarkable attachment to his lovely and gentle 
 wife. But whither had they gone ? The natural supposition 
 was. that she would throw herself on the protection of her step 
 mother, as the only person on whom she had any legitimate 
 claims, unkind as she had formerly been. He immediately 
 Started for the embattled walls of Fortress Monroe, but before 
 his departure, he put advertisements in every paper, which, if 
 they met her eye, she could not fail to understand. Alas ! they 
 never reached the gray cottage imbosomed in New England 
 woods ! 
 
 In vain he sought her in the wave-washed home of her child- 
 
442 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 hood. lie met with no sympathy from the slighted and jealous 
 step-mother, who had destroyed the only link that bound them 
 together, the name of her father. She had married again, and 
 disowned all interest in the daughter of her former husband. 
 She went still further, and wreaked her vengeance on St. James 
 for the wounds he had inflicted on her vanity, by aspersing % and 
 slandering the innocent Rosalie. lie left her in indignation and 
 disgust, and wandered without guide or compass, like another 
 Orpheus in search of the lost Eurydice. Had he known Peggy s 
 native place, he might have turned in the right direction, but he 
 was ignorant of every thing but her name and virtues. At 
 length, weary and desponding, he resolved to seek in foreign 
 lands, and in devotion to his art, oblivion of his sorrows. Just 
 before his departure he met his brother, and told him of the 
 circumstances which banished him from home and country. 
 Gabriel, whose love for Theresa had been the one golden vein 
 in the dark ore of his nature, was awakened to bitter, though 
 short-lived remorse, not only for the ruin he brought on her, but 
 the brother, whose fraternal kindness had met with so sad a 
 requital. Touched by the exhibition of his grief and self- 
 reproach, Henry committed to his keeping a miniature of Ro 
 salie, of which he had a duplicate, that he might be able to iden 
 tify her, and Gabriel promised, if he discovered one trace of his 
 wife and child, that he would write to his brother and recall 
 him. 
 
 They parted. Henry went to Italy, where images of ideal 
 loveliness mingled with, though they could not supplant, the 
 haunting memories of his native clime. As an artist, and as a 
 man, he was admired, respected, and beloved ; and he found 
 consolation, though not happiness. The one great sorrow of his 
 life fell like a mountain shadow over his heart ; but it darkened 
 its brightness without chilling its warmth. He was still the 
 sympathizing friend of humanity, the comforter of the afflicted, 
 the benefactor of the poor. 
 
 In the mean time Gabriel continued his reckless and dissolute 
 course, sometimes on land, sometimes on sea, an adventurer, a 
 speculator, a gambler, and a wretch. Destiny chanced to 
 
ERNEST LINMVOOD. 443 
 
 throw him into the vortex of corruption boiling in the heart of 
 New York, when I went there, the bride of Ernest. He had 
 seen me in the street, before he met me at the theatre ; and, 
 struck by my resemblance to the miniature which his brother 
 had given him, he inquired and learned my name and history, 
 as well as the wealth and rank of my husband. Confirmed in 
 his suspicion that I was the child of Rosalie, he resolved to fill 
 his empty pockets with my husband s gold, by making me be 
 lieve that he was my father, and appealing to my filial compas 
 sion. Not satisfied with his success, he forged the note, whose 
 discovery was followed by detection, conviction, imprisonment, 
 and despair. 
 
 The only avenue to his seared and hardened heart had been 
 found by the son of Theresa, coming to him like a messenger 
 from heaven, in all his purity, excellence, and filial piety, not to 
 avenge a mother s wrongs, but to cheer and illumine a guilty 
 father s doom. His brother, too, seemed sent by Providence 
 at this moment, that he might receive the daughter whom, 
 from motives of the basest selfishness, he had claimed as his 
 own. 
 
 When I first saw my father at the Falls, he had just returned 
 to his native land, in company with Julian, the young artist. 
 Urged by one of those irresistible impulses which may be the 
 pressure of an angel s hand, his spirit turned to the soil where 
 he now firmly believed the ashes of his Rosalie reposed. He 
 and Julian parted on their first arrival, met again on the morn 
 ing of our departure, and travelled together through some of 
 the glowing and luxuriant regions of the West. After Julian 
 left him to visit Grandison Place, he lingered amid scenes 
 where nature revelled in all its primeval grandeur and original 
 simplicity, sketching its boldest and most attractive features, till, 
 God-directed, he came to the city over which the memory of his 
 brief wedded life trembled like a misty star throbbing on the 
 lonely heart of night. Hearing that a St. James was in the 
 dungeons of the Tombs, a convicted forger, he at once knew 
 that it must be his brother. There he sought him, and learned 
 
444 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 from him that the child of Rosalie lived, though Rosalie was no 
 more. 
 
 As simple as sad, was the solution of my life s mystery. 
 
 Concealment was the fatal source of our sorrows. Even the 
 noble Henry St. James erred in concealing his twin brotherhood, 
 though woe and disgrace tarnished the once golden link. Rosa 
 lie and Theresa both erred, in not giving their children their 
 father s name, though they believed it accursed by perjury and 
 guilt. 
 
 Truth, and truth alone, is safe and omnipotent : " The eter 
 nal days of God are hers." Man may weave, but she will un 
 deceive ; man may arrange, but God will dispose. 
 
CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 I TOLD my father the history of my youth and womanhood, 
 of my marriage arid widowhood", with feelings similar to those 
 with which I poured out my soul into the compassionate bosom 
 of my Heavenly Father. He listened, pitied, wept over, and 
 then consoled me. 
 
 " He must prove himself worthy of so sacred a trust," said 
 he, clasping me to his bosom with all a father s tenderness, and 
 all a mother s love, " before I ever commit it to his keeping. 
 Never again, with my consent, shall you be given back to his 
 arms, till the seed of the woman has bruised the serpent s 
 head. " 
 
 " I will never leave you again, dear father, under any cir 
 cumstances, whatever they may be. Rest assured, that come 
 weal, come woe, we will never be separated. Not even for a 
 husband s unclouded confidence, would I forsake a father s 
 sacred, new-found love." 
 
 " We must w r ait, and hope, and trust, my beloved daughter. 
 Every thing will work together for the good of those that love 
 God. I believe that now, fully, reverentially. Sooner or later 
 all the ways of Providence will be justified to man, and made 
 clear as the noonday sun." 
 
 He looked up to heaven, and his fine countenance beamed 
 with holy resignation and Christian faith. Oh ! how I loved this 
 dear"/ excellent, noble father ! Every hour, nay, every moment 
 I might say, my filial love and reverence increased. My feel 
 ings were so new, so overpowering, I could not analyze them. 
 They were sweet as the strains of Edith s harp, yet grand as 
 the roaring of ocean s swelling waves. The bliss of confidence, 
 
 38 (445) 
 
446 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 the rapture of repose, the sublimity of veneration, the tender 
 ness of love, all blended like the dyes of the rainbow, and 
 spanned with an arch of peace the retreating clouds of niy 
 soul. 
 
 " When sht 11 we go to Grandison Place ? " he asked. " I 
 long to pour a father s gratitude into the ear of your benefac 
 tress. I long to visit the grave of my Rosalie." 
 
 " To-morrow, to-day, now, dear father, whenever you speak 
 the word ; provided we are not separated, I do not mind how 
 soon." 
 
 He smiled at my eagerness. 
 
 " Not quite so much haste, my daughter. I cannot leave to 
 Richard the sole task of ministering to the soul of my unhappy 
 brother. His conscience is quickened, his feeling softened, and 
 it may be that the day of grace is begun. His frame is weak 
 and worn, his blood feverish, and drop by drop is slowly drying 
 in his veins. I never saw any one so fearfully altered. Truly 
 is it said, that the wages of sin is death/ Oh ! if after herd 
 ing with the swine and feeding on the husks of earth, he comes 
 a repentant prodigal to his father s home, it matters not how 
 soon he passes from that living tomb." 
 
 My father s words were prophetic. The prisoner s wasted 
 frame was consuming slowly, almost imperceptibly, like steel 
 when rust corrodes it. Richard and my father were with him 
 every day, and gathered round him every comfort which the 
 law permitted, to soften the horrors of imprisonment. Not in 
 vain were their labors of love. God blessed them. The rock 
 was blasted. The waters gushed forth. Like the thief on the 
 cross, he turned his dying glance on his Saviour, and acknowl 
 edged him to be the Son of God. But it was long before the 
 fiery serpents of remorse were deadened by the sight of the 
 brazen reptile, glittering with supernatural radiance on the up 
 lifted eye of faith. The struggle was fearful and agonizing, 
 but the victory triumphant. 
 
 Had he needed me, I would have gone to him, and I often 
 pleaded earnestly with my father to take me with him ; but he 
 said he did not wish me to be exposed to such harrowing scenes, 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 447 
 
 and that Richard combined the tenderness of a daughter with 
 the devotion of a son. Poor Richard! his pale cheeks and 
 heavy eyes bore witness to the protracted sufferings of his 
 father, but he bore up bravely, sustained by the hope of his 
 soul s emancipation from the bondage of sin. 
 
 The prisoner must have had an iron constitution. The 
 wings of his spirit flapped with such violence against its skele 
 ton bars, the vulture-beak of remorse dipping all the time into 
 the quivering, bleeding heart, it is astonishing how long it re 
 sisted even after flesh and blood seemed wasted away. Day 
 after day he lingered ; but as his soul gradually unsheathed it 
 self, clearer views of God and eternity played upon its surface, 
 till it flashed and burned, like a sword in the sunbeams of 
 heaven. 
 
 At length he died, with the hand of his son clasped in his, 
 the bible of Theresa laid against his heart, and his brother 
 kneeling in prayer by his bedside. Death came softly, gently, 
 like an angel of release, and left the seal of peace on that 
 brow, indented in life by the thunder-scars of sin and crime. 
 
 After the first shock, Richard could not help feeling his 
 father s death an unspeakable blessing, accompanied by such 
 circumstances. In the grave his transgressions would be for 
 gotten, or remembered only to forgive. He must now rise, 
 shake off the sackcloth and ashes from his spirit, and put on the 
 beautiful garments of true manhood. The friends, who had taken 
 such an interest in his education, must not be disappointed in 
 the career they had marked out. Arrangements had been made 
 for him to study his profession with one of the most eminent 
 lawyers of Boston, and he was anxious to commence immedi 
 ately, that he might find in mental excitement an antidote to 
 morbid sensibility and harrowing memory. 
 
 My father s wishes and my own turned to Grandison 
 Place, and we prepared at once for our departure. I had in 
 formed Mrs. Linwood by letters of the events which I have 
 related, and received her heart-felt congratulations. She ex 
 pressed an earnest desire to see my father, but honored too 
 much the motives that induced him to remain, to wish him to 
 
448 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 hasten. Now those motives no longer existed, I wrote to an 
 nounce our coming, and soon after we bade adieu to one of the 
 most charming abodes of goodness, hospitality, and pure domes 
 tic happiness I have ever known. 
 
 " You must write and tell me of all the changes of your 
 changing destiny," said Mrs. Brahan, when she gave me the 
 parting embrace ; " no one can feel more deeply interested in 
 them than myself. I feel in a measure associated with the 
 scenes of your life-drama, for this is the place of your nativity, 
 and it was under this roof you were united to your noble and 
 inestimable father. Be of good cheer. Good news will come, 
 wafted from beyond the Indian seas, and your second bridal 
 morn will be fairer than the first." 
 
 I thanked her with an overflowing heart. I did not, like Tier, 
 see the day-star of hope arising over that second bridal morn, 
 but the sweet pathetic minor tone breathed in my ear the same 
 holy strain : 
 
 " Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, 
 
 Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid ; 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 
 Guide where our infant Ecdeemer is laid." 
 
CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 I WISH my father could have seen the home of my youth, 
 when he first beheld it, in the greenness of spring or the bloom 
 of summer; but while, cold, and dazzling was the lawn, and 
 bleak, bare, and leafless the grand old elms and the stately 
 brotherhood of oaks that guarded the avenue. 
 
 With pride, gratitude, joy, and a thousand mingling emotions, 
 I introduced my father into a dwelling consecrated by so many 
 recollections of happiness and woe. The cloud was removed 
 from my birth, the stain from my lineage. I could now exult 
 in my parentage and glory in my father. 
 
 Julian was there, and welcomed St. James with enthusiastic 
 pleasure, who, on his part, seemed to cherish for him even 
 parental affection. With joy and triumph beaming in his eyes 
 and glowing on his cheek, Julian took the lovely Edith by the 
 hand, and introduced her as his bride. Still occupying her 
 usual place in her mother s home, in all her sweetness, simplicity, 
 and spirituality, it was difficult to believe any change had come 
 over her destiny. She had not waited for my presence, because 
 she knew the bridal wreath woven for her would recall the 
 blighted bloom of mine. She had no festal wedding. She 
 could not, while her brother s fate was wrapped in uncertainty 
 and gloom. 
 
 One Sunday evening, after Mr. Somerville had dismissed the 
 congregation with the usual benediction, Julian led Edith to the 
 altar, and her mother stood by her side till the solemn words 
 were uttered that made them one. So simple and holy were the 
 nuptial rites of the wealthy and beautiful heiress of Grandison 
 Place. 
 
 38 * (449) 
 
450 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 My father spoke in exalted terms of the young artist, of his 
 virtues and his genius, the singleness of his heart, the upright 
 ness of his principles, and the warmth and purity of his affec 
 tions. Had he, my father, needed any passport to the favor of 
 Mrs. Linwood, he could not have had a surer one ; but her 
 noble nature instantaneously recognized his congenial and ex 
 alted worth. He had that in his air, his countenance, and man 
 ner, that distinguished him from the sons of men, as the planets 
 are distinguished by their clear, intense, and steadfast lustre 
 among the starry ranks of heaven. 
 
 I gave him the manuscript my mother had left me, and at 
 his request pointed out the road and the diverging path that led 
 to the spot where her grave was made. I did not ask to ac 
 company him, for I felt his emotions w r ere too sacred for even 
 his daughter to witness. I mourned that the desolation of 
 winter was added to the dreariness of death ; that a pall of 
 snow, white as her winding-sheet and cold as her clay, covered 
 the churchyard. In summer, when the grass was of an emer 
 ald green and the willows waved their weeping branches with 
 a gentle rustle against the clustering roses, whose breath per 
 fumed and whose blossoms beautified the place of graves, it 
 was sweet, though sad, to wander amid the ruins of life, and 
 meditate on its departed joys. 
 
 The broken shaft, twined with a drooping wreath carved in 
 bas-relief which rose above my mother s ashes, and the marble 
 stone which marked the grave of Peggy, were erected the year 
 after their deaths. The money which rewarded my services in 
 the academy had been thus appropriated, or rather a portion of 
 it. The remainder had been given to the poor, as Mrs. Lin- 
 wood always supplied my wardrobe, as she did Edith s, and left 
 no want of my own to satisfy, not even a wish to indulge. I 
 mention this here, because it occurred to my mind that I had 
 not done Mrs. Linwood perfect justice with regard to the 
 motives which induced her to discipline my character. 
 
 I did not see my father for hours after his return. He re 
 tired to his chamber, and did not join the family circle till the 
 evening lamps w r ere lighted. He looked excessively pale, even 
 
E II N E S T L I N W O O D . 451 
 
 wan, and his countenance showed how much he had suffered. 
 Edith was singing when he came in, and he made a motion for 
 her to continue ; for it was evident he did not wish to converse. 
 I sat down by him without speaking ; and putting his arm round 
 me, he drew me closely to his side. The plaintive melody of 
 Edith s voice harmonized with the melancholy tone of his feel 
 ings, and seemed to shed on his soul a balmy and delicious soft 
 ness. His spirit was with my mother in the dreams of the 
 past, rather than the hopes of the future ; and the memory of 
 its joys lived again in music s heavenly breath. 
 
 It is a blessed thing to be remembered in death as my mother 
 was. Her image was enshrined in her husband s heart, in the 
 bloom and freshness of unfaded youth, as he had last beheld 
 her, and such it would ever remain. He had not seen the 
 mournful process of fading and decay. To him, she was the 
 bride of immortality ; and his love partook of her own fresh 
 ness and youth and bloom. Genius is Lafontaine de jouvence, 
 in whose bright, deep waters the spirit bathes and renews its 
 morning prime. It is the well-spring of the heart, the Castaly 
 of the soul. St. James had lived amid forms of ideal beauty, 
 till his spirit was imbued with their loveliness as with the fra 
 grance of flowers, and he breathed an atmosphere pure as the 
 world s first spring. He was young, though past the meridian 
 of life. There was but one mark of age upon his interesting 
 and noble person, and that was the snowy shade that softened 
 his raven hair, foam of the waves of time, showing they had 
 been lashed by the storms, or driven against breakers and reefs 
 of destiny. 
 
 The first time I took him into the library, he stopped before 
 the picture of Ernest. I did not tell him whose it was. He 
 gazed upon it long and earnestly. 
 
 " What a countenance ! " he exclaimed. " I can see the lights 
 and shades of feeling flashing and darkening over it. It has 
 the troubled splendor of a tropic night, when clouds and moon 
 beams are struggling. Is it a portrait, or an ideal picture ? " 
 
 " It is Ernest, it is my husband," I answered ; and it 
 
452 ERNEST UN WOOD. 
 
 seemed to me as if all the ocean surges that rolled between us 
 were pressing their cold weight on my heart. 
 
 " My poor girl ! my beloved Gabriella ! All your history is 
 written there." 
 
 I threw myself in his arms, and wept. Had I seen Ernest 
 dead at my feet, I could not have felt more bitter grief. I had 
 never indulged it so unrestrainedly before in his presence, for I 
 had always thought more of him than myself; and in trying to 
 cheer him, I had found cheerfulness. Now I remembered only 
 Ernest s idolatrous love, and his sorrows and sufferings, forget 
 ting my own wrongs ; and I felt there would always be an 
 aching void which even a father s and brother s tenderness (for 
 brother I still called Richard) could never fill. 
 
 "Oh, my father," I cried, "bear with my weakness, bear 
 with me a little while. There is comfort in weeping on a father s 
 bosom, even for a loss like mine. I shall never see him again. 
 He is dead, or if living, is dead to me. You cannot blame me, 
 father. You see there a faint semblance of what he is, splen 
 did, fascinating, and haunting, though at times so dark and fear 
 ful. No words of mine can give an idea of the depth, the 
 strength, the madness of his love. It has been the blessing and 
 the bane, the joy and the terror, the angel and the demon of my 
 life. I know it was sinful in its wild excess, and mine was sin 
 ful, too, in its blind idolatry, and I know the blessing of God 
 could not hallow such a union. But how can I help feeling the 
 dearth, the coldness, the weariness following such passionate 
 emotions ? How can I help feeling at times, that the sun of 
 my existence is set, and a long, dark night before me ? " 
 
 He did not answer, he only pressed me convulsively to his 
 heart, and I felt one hot tear, and then another and another 
 falling on my brow. 
 
 Oh ! it is cruel to wring tears from the strong heart of man ; 
 cruel, above all, to wring them from a father s heart, that 
 heart whose own sorrows had lately bled afresh ! Every drop 
 fell heavy and burning as molten lead on my conscience. I had 
 been yielding to a selfish burst of grief, thoughtless of the 
 agony I was inflicting. 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 453 
 
 " Forgive me, father ! " I cried, " forgive me ! On my knees, 
 too, I will pray my Heavenly Father to forgive the rebel who 
 dares to murmur at his chastisements, when new and priceless 
 blessings gladden her life. I thought I had learned submis 
 sion, and I have, father, I have kissed in love and faith the 
 Almighty hand that laid me low. This has been a dark mo 
 ment, but it is passed." 
 
 I kissed his hand, and pressed it softly over my glistening 
 eyes. 
 
 " Forgive you, my child ! " he repeated, " for a sorrow so nat 
 ural, so legitimate, and which has so much to justify it ! I have 
 wondered at your fortitude and disinterested interest in others, 
 I have wondered at your Christian submission, your unmurmur 
 ing resignation, and I wonder still. But you must not consider 
 your destiny as inevitably sad and lonely. You have not had 
 time yet to receive tidings from India. If, after the letter you 
 have written, your husband does not return with a heart broken 
 by penitence and remorse, and his dark and jealous passions 
 slain by the sword of conviction, piercing twoedged and sharp 
 to the very marrow of his spirit, he is not worthy of thee, my 
 spotless, precious child ; and the illusion of love will pass away, 
 showing him to be selfish, tyrannical, and cruel, a being to be 
 shunned and pitied, but no longer loved. Do not shudder at 
 the picture I have drawn. The soul that speaks from those 
 eyes of thousand meanings," added he, looking at the portrait 
 that gazed upon us with powerful and thrilling glance, " must 
 have some grand and redeeming qualities. I trust in God that 
 it will rise above the ashes of passion, purified and regenerated. 
 Then your happiness will have a new foundation, whose builder 
 and maker is God." 
 
 u Oh ! dear father ! " was all I could utter. He spoke like 
 one who had the gift of prophecy, and my spirit caught the in 
 spiration of his words. 
 
 I have not spoken of Richard, for I had so much to say of 
 my father, but I did not forget him. He accompanied us to 
 Grandison Place, though he remained but a few days. I could 
 not help feeling sad to see how the sparkling vivacity of his 
 
454 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 youth had passed away, the diamond brightness which reminded 
 one of rippling waters in their sunbeams. But if less brilliant, 
 he was far more interesting. Stronger, deeper, higher qual 
 ities were developed. The wind-shaken branches of thought 
 stretched with a broader sweep. The roots of his growing en 
 ergies, wrenched by the storm, struck firmer and deeper, and 
 the wounded bark gave forth a pure and invigorating odor. 
 
 I walked with him, the evening before his departure, in the 
 avenue from which the snow had been swept, leaving a smooth, 
 wintry surface below. I was wrapped in furs, and the cold, 
 frosty air braced me like a pair of strong arms. 
 
 I had so much to say to Richard, and now I was alone with 
 him. I walked on in silence, feeling as if words had never 
 been invented to express our ideas. 
 
 " You will never feel the want of a father s care and affec 
 tion," at length I said. " My father could not love you better if 
 you were his own son ; and surely no own brother could be 
 dearer, Richard, than you are and ever will be to me. You 
 must not look mournfully on the past, but forward into a bright 
 ening future." 
 
 " I have but one object in life now," he answered, " and that 
 is, to improve the talents God has given me for the benefit of 
 mankind. I am not conscious of any personal hope or ambi 
 tion, but a strong sense of duty acts upon me, and will save me 
 from the corrosion of disappointment and the listlessness of de 
 spair." 
 
 " But you will not always feel so, Richard. You will expe 
 rience a strong reaction soon, and new-born hopes and aspira 
 tions will shine gloriously to guide you upward and onward in 
 your bright career. Think how young you are yet, Richard." 
 
 " The consciousness of youth does not always bring joy. It 
 cannot, when youthful hopes are blighted, Gabriella. One can 
 not tear up at once the deep-rooted affections of years. Never 
 was a love planted deeper, firmer than mine for you, before 
 the soil of the heart had known the hardening winds of 
 destiny. Start not, Gabriella, I am not going to utter one sen 
 timent, which, as a wife, you need blush to hear ; but the parting 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 455 
 
 hour, like that of death, is an honest one, and I must speak as 
 I feel. May you never know or imagine my wretchedness 
 when I believed you to be my sister, knowing that though inno 
 cent, I had been guilty, and that I could not love you merely 
 with a brother s love. Thank heaven ! you are my cousin. Ten 
 thousand winning sweetnesses cluster round this dear relation 
 ship. The dearest, the strongest, the purest I have ever known." 
 
 " You will know a stronger, a dearer one, dear Richard, 
 you do not know yet how strong." 
 
 " I shall never think of my own happiness, Gabriella, till I 
 am assured of yours." 
 
 " Then I will try to be happy for your sake." 
 
 " And if it should be that the ties severed by misfortune and 
 distance are never renewed, you will remain with your father, 
 and I will make my home with you, and it will be the business 
 of both our lives to make you happy. No flower of the green 
 house was ever more tenderly cherished and guarded than you 
 shall be, best beloved of so many hearts ! " 
 
 " Thank you, oh, thank you, for all your tenderness,- so far 
 beyond my worth. Friend, brother, cousin, with you and such 
 a father to love me, I ought to be the happiest and most grateful 
 of human beings. But tell me one thing, dear Richard, before 
 we part ; do you forgive Ernest the wrong he has done you, freely 
 and fully?" 
 
 " From the bottom of my heart I do." 
 
 " And should we ever meet again, may I tell him so ? " 
 
 " Tell him I have nothing to forgive, for, believing as he did, 
 vengeance could not wing a bolt of wrath too red, too deadly. 
 But I would not recall the past. Your father beckons us, he 
 fears the frosty evening air for you, but it has given a glowing 
 rose to your cheeks ! " 
 
 My father stood on the threshold to greet us, with that benign 
 smile, that beautiful, winning smile that had so long been slum 
 bering on his face, but which grew brighter and brighter every 
 time it beamed on my soul. 
 
 The last evening of Richard s stay was not sad. Dr. Har- 
 lowe and Mr. Somerville were with us ; and though the events 
 
456 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 with which he had been associated had somewhat sobered the 
 doctor s mirthful propensities, the geniality of his character was 
 triumphant over every circumstance. 
 
 My father expressed to him the most fervent gratitude for his 
 parental kindness to me,. as well as for a deeper, holier debt. 
 
 " You owe me nothing," said Dr. Harlowe ; " and even if you 
 did, and were the debt ten times beyond your grateful apprecia 
 tion of it, I should consider myself repaid by the privilege of 
 calling you my friend." 
 
 No one could speak with more feeling or dignity than the 
 doctor, when the right chord was touched. He told me he had 
 never seen the man he admired so much as my father ; and how 
 proud and happy it made me to have him say so, and know that 
 his words were true ! No one who has not felt as I did, the 
 mortification, the shame and anguish of believing myself the 
 daughter of a convicted criminal, can understand the intense, 
 the almost worshipping reverence with which I regarded my 
 late-found parent. To feel pride instead of humiliation, exulta 
 tion instead of shame, and love instead of abhorrence, how great 
 the contrast, how unspeakable the reliefj how sublime and holy 
 the gratitude ! 
 
CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 TnE snows of winter melted, the diamond icicles dropped 
 from the trees, the glittering fetters slipped from the streams, 
 and nature came forth a captive released from bondage, glowing 
 with the joy of emancipation. 
 
 Nothing could be more beautiful, more glorious, than the val 
 ley in its vernal garniture. Such affluence of verdure ; such rich, 
 sweeping foliage ; such graceful undulation of hill and dale ; 
 such exquisite blending of light and shade ; such pure, rejoicing 
 breezes ; such blue, resplendent skies never before met, making 
 a tableau vivant on which the eye of the great Creator must 
 look down with delight. 
 
 It was the first time Mrs. Linwood had witnessed the opening 
 of spring at Grandison Place, and her faded spirits revived in 
 the midst of its blooming splendor. She had preferred its com 
 parative retirement during the past winter, and, in spite of the 
 solicitations of her friends, refused to go to the metropolis. My 
 father and Julian both felt an artist s rapture at the prospect 
 unrolled in a grand panorama around them, and transferred 
 to the canvas many a glowing picture. It was delightful to 
 watch the progress of these new creations, but far more in 
 teresting when the human face was the subject of the pencil. 
 Edith and myself were multiplied into so many charming forms, 
 it is strange we were not made vain by gazing on them. 
 
 I was very grasping in my wishes, and wanted quite a pic 
 ture gallery of my friends, Mrs. Linwood, Edith, and Dr. 
 Harlowe ; and my indulgent father made masterly sketches of 
 all for his exacting daughter. And thus day succeeded day, 
 and no wave from Indian seas wafted tidings of the absent hus- 
 
 39 (457) 
 
458 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 band and son. No " Star of the East " dawned on the night- 
 
 O 
 
 shades of my heart. And the raven voice kept echoing in my 
 ear, " Never more, never more." There had been a terrible 
 gale sweeping along the whole eastern coast of the Atlantic, 
 and many a ship had gone down, freighted with an argosy richer 
 than gold, the treasures of human hearts. I did not speak 
 my fears, but the sickness of dread settled on my spirits, in 
 spite of the almost superhuman efforts I made to shake it from 
 them. When my eyes were fixed on my father s paintings, I 
 could see nothing but storm-lashed billows, wrecking ships, and 
 pale, drowning mariners. I could see that Mrs. Linwood and 
 Edith participated in my apprehensions, though they did not 
 give them utterance. We hardly dared to look in each other s 
 faces, lest we should betray to each other thoughts which we 
 would, but could not conceal. 
 
 The library had been converted into my father s studio. He 
 usually painted in the mornings as well as Julian ; and in the 
 afternoon we rode, or walked as inclination prompted, and the 
 evenings were devoted to sewing, conversation, and music. 
 
 One afternoon, after returning from a ride about sunset, I 
 went into the library for a book which I had left there. I never 
 went there alone without stopping to gaze at the picture of Er 
 nest, which every day acquired a stronger fascination. " Those 
 eyes of a thousand meanings," as my father had said, followed 
 me with thrilling intensity whenever I moved, and if I paused 
 they fixed themselves on me as if never more to be withdrawn. 
 Just now, as I entered, a crimson ray of the setting sun, strug 
 gling in through the curtained windows, fell warmly on the face, 
 and gave it such a lifelike glow, that I actually started, as if 
 life indeed were there. 
 
 As I have said before, the library was remote Irom the front 
 part of the house, and even Margaret s loud, voluble laugh did 
 not penetrate its deep retirement. I know not how long, but 
 it must have been very long that I stood gazing at the picture, 
 for the crimson ray had faded into a soft twilight haze, and the 
 face seemed gradually receding further and further from me. 
 
 The door opened. Never, never, shah 1 I feel as I did then 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 459 
 
 till I meet my mother s spirit in another world. A pale hand 
 rested, as if for support, on the latch of the door, a face pale 
 as the statues, but lighted up by eyes of burning radiance, 
 flashed like an apparition upon me. I stood as in a nightmare, 
 incapable of motion or utterance, and a cloud rolled over my 
 sight. But I knew that Ernest was at my feet, that his face 
 was buried in the folds of my dress, and his voice in deep, trem 
 ulous music, murmuring in my ear. 
 
 " Gabriella! beloved Gabriella! I am not worthy to be called 
 thy husband ; but banish me not, my own and only love ! " 
 
 At the sound of that voice, my paralyzed senses burst the 
 fetters that enthralled them, and awoke to life so keen, there was 
 agony in the awakening. Every plan that reason had suggested 
 and judgment approved was forgotten or destroyed, and love, 
 all-conquering, unconquerable love, reigned over every thought, 
 feeling, and emotion. I sunk upon my knees before him, I 
 encircled his neck with my arms, I called him by every dear 
 and tender name the vocabulary of love can furnish, I wept 
 upon his bosom showers of blissful and relieving tears. Thus 
 we knelt and wept, locked in each other s arms, and again and 
 again Ernest repeated 
 
 I am not worthy to be thy husband," and I answered again 
 and again 
 
 " I love thee, Ernest. God, who knoweth all things, knows, 
 ind he only, how I love thee." 
 
 It is impossible to describe such scenes. Those who have 
 never known them, must deem them high-wrought and extrava 
 gant ; those who have, cold and imperfect. It is like trying to 
 paint chain-lightning, or the coruscations of the aurora borea- 
 lis. I thought not how he came. What cared I, when he was 
 with me, when his arms were round me, his heart answering to 
 the throbs of mine ? Forgotten were suspicion, jealousy, vio 
 lence, and wrong, nothing remained but the memory of love. 
 
 As the shades of twilight deepened, his features seemed more 
 distinct, for the mist which tears had left dissolved, and I could 
 see how wan and shadowy he looked, and how delicate, even to 
 sickliness, the hue of his transparent complexion. Traces of 
 
460 ERNEST LINWOOD. 
 
 suffering were visible in every lineament, but they seemed left 
 by the ground-swell of passion, rather than its deeper ocean 
 waves. 
 
 " You have seen your mother ? " at length I said, feeling that 
 I must no longer keep him from her, " and Edith ? And oh, 
 Ernest ! have you seen my father ? Do you know I have a 
 father, whom I glory in acknowledging ? Do you know that the 
 cloud is removed from my birth, the stigma from my name ? 
 Oh, my husband, mine is a strange, eventful history ! " 
 
 " Mr. Brahan told me of the discovery of your father, and 
 of the death of his unhappy brother. I have not seen him yet. 
 But my mother ! When I left her, Gabriella, she had not one 
 silver hair. My hand sprinkled that premature snow." 
 
 " It matters not now, dear Ernest," I cried, pained by the 
 torturing sighs that spoke the depth of his remorse. " Flowers 
 will bloom sweetly under that light snow. Edith is happy. 
 We will all be happy, my father too, come and see him, 
 Ernest, come, and tell me, if I have need to blush for my 
 lineage." 
 
 " Not for your lineage, but your husband. What must this 
 noble father think of me ? " 
 
 " Every thing that is kind and Christian. He has sustained 
 my faith, fed my hopes, and prophesied this hour of reunion. 
 Come, the moment you have seen him, you will trust, revere, 
 and love him." 
 
 With slow and lingering steps we walked the winding gallery 
 that led from the library, and entered the parlor, whose lights 
 seemed dazzling in contrast to the soft gloom we had left behind. 
 
 Hand in hand we approached my father, who stood with his 
 back to one of the windows, his tall and stately figure nobly 
 defined. I tried to utter the words, " My husband ! my 
 father ! " but my parted lips were mute. I threw myself into 
 his arms, with a burst of emotion that was irrepressible, and he 
 grasped the hand of Ernest and welcomed and blest him in 
 warm, though faltering accents. Then Edith came with her 
 sweet April face, and hung once more upon her brother s neck, 
 and his mother again embraced him, and Julian walked to the 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 461 
 
 window and looked abroad, to hide the tears which he thought a 
 stain upon his manhood. 
 
 It was not till after the excitement of the hour had subsided, 
 that we realized how weak and languid Ernest really was. He 
 was obliged to confess how much he had suffered from illness 
 and fatigue, and that his strength was completely exhausted. 
 As he reclined on one of the sofas, the crimson hue of the vel 
 vet formed such a startling contrast to the pallor of his com 
 plexion, it gave him an appearance almost unearthly. 
 
 " You have been ill, my son," said Mrs. Linwood, watching 
 him with intense anxiety. 
 
 " I have been on the confines of the spirit world, my mother ; 
 so near as to see myself by the light it reflected. Death is the 
 solar microscope of life. It shows a hideous mass, where all 
 seemed fair and pure." 
 
 He laid his hand over his eyes with a nervous shudder. 
 " But I am well now," he added ; " I am only suffering from 
 fatigue and excitement. Gabriella s letter found me leaning 
 over the grave. It raised me, restored me, brought me back to 
 life, to hope, to love, and home." 
 
 He told us, in the course of the evening, how he had found 
 Mr. Haiiand on the eve of embarking for India, and that he 
 offered to be his companion; and how he had written to his 
 mother before his voyage, telling her of his destination, and en 
 treating her to write if she were still willing to call him her 
 son. The letter came not to relieve the agonies of suspense, 
 and mine contained the first tidings he received from his native 
 land. It found him, as he had said, on a sick-bed, and its con 
 tents imparted new life to his worn and tortured being. He 
 immediately took passage in a home bound ship, though so 
 weak he was obliged to be carried on board in a litter. Mr. 
 Harland accompanied him to New York, where on debarking 
 they had met Mr. Brahan, who had given him a brief sketch 
 of my visit, and the events that marked it. 
 
 As I sat by him on a low seat, with his hand clasped in mine, 
 while he told me in a low voice of the depth of his penitence, 
 the agonies of his remorse, and the hope of God s pardon that 
 
 39* 
 
4G2 ERNEST L I N W O O D . 
 
 had dawned on what he supposed the night clouds of death, I 
 saw him start as if in sudden pain. The lace sleeve had fallen 
 back from my left arm. liis eyes were fixed on the wound he 
 had inflicted. He bent his head forward, and pressed his lips 
 on the scar. 
 
 " They shall look upon him whom they have pierced," he 
 murmured. " O my Saviour ! could thy murderers feel pangs 
 of deeper remorse at the sight of thy scarred hands and 
 wounded side ? " 
 
 " Never think of it again, dear Ernest. I did not know it, 
 did not feel it. It never gave me a moment s pang." 
 
 " Yes, I remember well why you did not suffer." 
 
 " But you must not remember. If you love me, Ernest, 
 make no allusion to the past. The future is ours ; youth and 
 hope are ours ; and the promises of God, sure and steadfast, are 
 ours. I feel as Noah and his children felt when they stepped 
 from the ark on dry land, and saw the waters of the deluge re 
 treating, and the rainbow smiling on its clouds. What to them 
 were the storms they had weathered, the dangers they had over 
 come ? They were all past. Oh, my husband, let us believe 
 that ours are past, and let us trust forever in the God of our 
 fathers." 
 
 " I do I do, my Gabriella. My faith has hitherto been a 
 cold abstraction ; now it is a living, vital flame, burning with 
 steady and increasing light." 
 
 At this moment Edith, who had seated herself at the harp, 
 remembering well the soothing influence of music on her broth 
 er s soul, touched its resounding strings; and the magnificent 
 strains of the Gloria in JSxcelsis, 
 
 " rose like a stream 
 Of rich distilled perfume." 
 
 I never heard any thing sound so sweet and heavenly. It came 
 in, a sublime chorus to the thoughts we had been uttering. It 
 reminded me of the song of the morning stars, the anthem of 
 the angels over the manger of Bethlehem, so highly wrought 
 were my feelings, so softly, with such swelling harmony, had 
 the notes stolen on the ear. 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 463 
 
 Ernest raised himself from his reclining position, and his 
 countenance glowed with rapture. I had never seen it wear 
 such an expression before. " Old things had passed away, 
 all things had become new." 
 
 " There is peace, there is pardon," said he, in a voice too 
 low for any ear but mine, when the last strain melted away, 
 " there is joy in heaven over the repenting sinner, there is joy 
 on earth over the returning prodigal." 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 Two years and more have passed since my heart responded 
 to the strains of the Gloria in Excelsis, as sung by Edith on the 
 night of her brother s return. 
 
 Come to this beautiful cottage on the sea-shore, where we 
 have retired from the heat of summer, and you can tell by a 
 glance whether time has scattered blossoms or thorns in my 
 path, during its rapid flight. 
 
 Come into the piazza that faces the beach, and you can look 
 out on an ocean of molten gold, crimsoned here and there by 
 the rays of the setting sun, and here and there melting off into 
 a kind of burning silver. A glorious breeze is beginning to 
 curl the face of the waters, and to swell the white sails of the 
 skiffs and light vessels that skim the tide like birds of the 
 air, apparently instinct with life and gladness. It rustles 
 through the foliage, the bright, green foliage, that contrasts so 
 dazzlingly with the smooth, white, sandy beach, it lifts the 
 soft, silky locks of that beautiful infant, that is cradled so lov 
 ingly in my father s arms. Oh ! whose do you think that smil 
 ing cherub is, with such dark, velvet eyes, and pearly skin, and 
 mouth of heavenly sweetness ? It is mine, it is my own dar 
 ling Rosalie, my pearl, my sunbeam, my flower, my every 
 sweet and precious name in one. 
 
 But let me not speak of her first, the youngest pilgrim to this 
 sea-beat shore. There are others who claim the precedence. 
 There is one on my right hand, whom if you do not remember 
 with admiration and respect, it is because my pen has had no 
 power to bring her character before you, in all its moral excel 
 lence and Christian glory. You have not forgotten Mrs. Lin- 
 
 (464) 
 
ERNEST LIN WOOD. 465 
 
 wood. Her serene gray eye is turned to the apparently 
 illimitable ocean, now slowly rolling and deeply murmuring, 
 as if its mighty heart were stirred to its inmost core, by a con 
 sciousness of its own grandeur. There is peace on her thought 
 ful, placid brow, and long, long may it rest there. 
 
 The young man on my left is recognized at once, for there is 
 no one like him, my high-souled, gallant Richard. His eye spar 
 kles with much of its early quick-flashing light. The shadow 
 of the dismal Tombs no longer clouds, though it tempers, the 
 brightness of his manhood. He knows, though the world does 
 not, that his father fills a convict s grave, and this remembrance 
 chastens his pride, without humiliating him with the conscious 
 ness of disgrace. He is rapidly making himself a name and 
 fame in the high places of society. Men of talent take him by 
 the hand and welcome him as a younger brother to their ranks, 
 and fair and charming women smile upon and flatter him by the 
 most winning attentions. He passes on from flower to flower, 
 without seeking to gather one to place in his bosom, though he 
 loves to inhale their fragrance and admire their bloom. 
 
 " One of these days you will think of marrying," said a 
 friend, while congratulating him on his brilliant prospects. 
 
 " When I can find another Gabriella," he answered. 
 
 Ah ! Richard, there are thousands better and lovelier than 
 Gabriella ; and you will yet find an angel spirit in woman s form, 
 who will reward your filial virtues, and scatter the roses of love 
 in the green path of fame. 
 
 Do you see that graceful figure floating along on the white 
 beach, with a motion like the flowing wave, with hair like the 
 sunbeams, and eye as when 
 
 " The blue sky trembles on a cloud of purest white ? " 
 
 and he who walks by her side, with the romantic, beaming 
 countenance, now flashing with the enthusiasm, now shaded by 
 the sensibility of genius ? They are the fair-haired Edith, and 
 the artist Julian. He has laid aside for awhile the pencil and 
 the pallette, to drink in with us the invigorating breezes of 
 ocean. Let them pass on. They are happy. 
 
4G6 ERNEST LIN WOOD. 
 
 Another couple is slowly following, taller, larger, more of 
 the " earth, earthy." Do you not recognize my quondam tutor 
 and the once dauntless Meg ? It is his midsummer vacation, 
 and they, too, have come to breathe an atmosphere cooled hy 
 sea-born gales, and to renew the socialities of friendship amid 
 grand and inspiring influences. They walk on thoughtfully, 
 pensivelyj sometimes looking down on the smooth, continuous 
 beach, then upward to the mellow and glowing heavens. A 
 /"^softening shade has womanized the bold brow of Madge, and her 
 red lip has ?i -more subdued tint. She, the care-defying, laugli- 
 ) ter-breathing, untamable Madge, has known not only the refining 
 poVer of love, but the chastening touch of sorrow. She has 
 given a lovely "infant back to the God who gave it, and is thus 
 linked to the world of angels. But she has treasures on earth 
 still dearer. She leans on a strong arm and a true heart. Let 
 them pass on. They, too, are happy. 
 
 My dear father ! He is younger and handsomer than he was 
 two years since, for happiness is a wonderful rejuvenator. His 
 youth is renewed in ours, his Rosalie lives again in the cherub 
 who bears her name, and in whom his eye traces the similitude 
 of her beauty. Father! never since the hour when I first 
 addressed thee by that holy name, have I bowed my knee in 
 prayer without a thanksgiving to God for the priceless blessing 
 bestowed in thee. 
 
 There is one more figure in this sea-side group, dearer, more 
 interesting than all the rest to me. No longer the wan and 
 languid wanderer returned from Indian shores, worn by re 
 morse, and tortured by memory. The light, if not the glow of 
 health, illumines his face, and a firmer, manlier tone exalts its 
 natural delicacy of coloring. 
 
 Do you not perceive a change in that once dark, though 
 splendid countenance ? Is there not more peace and softness, yet 
 more dignity and depth of thought ? I will not say that clouds 
 never obscure its serenity, nor lightnings never dart across its 
 surface, for life is still a conflict, and the passions, though 
 chained as vassals by the victor hand of religion, will sometimes 
 clank their fetters and threaten to resume their lost dominion ; 
 
ERNEST L I N W O O D . 467 
 
 but they have not trampled underfoot the new-born blossoms 
 of wedded joy. I am happy, as happy as a pilgrim and so- 
 journer ought to be ; and even now, there is danger of my for 
 getting, in the fulness of niy heart s content, that eternal coun 
 try, whither we are all hastening. 
 
 We love each other as fondly, but less idolatrously. That 
 little child has opened a channel in which our purified affections 
 flow together towards the fountain of all love and joy. Its 
 fairy fingers are leading us gently on in the paths of domestic 
 harmony and peace. 
 
 My beloved Ernest ! my darling Rosalie ! how beautiful they 
 both seem, in the beams of the setting sun, that are playing in 
 glory round them! and how melodiously and pensively, yet 
 grandly does the music of the murmuring waves harmonize 
 with the minor tone of tenderness breathing in our hearts ! 
 
 We, too, are passing on in the procession of life, and the 
 waves of time that are rolling behind us will wash away the 
 print of our footsteps, and others will follow, and others still, but 
 few will be tossed on stormier seas, or be anchored at last in a 
 more blissful haven. 
 
 END. 
 
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 DAVID 0. ALLEN, D. D., Missionary of the American Board for 
 
 twenty-five years in India; Member of the Bombay Branch 
 
 of "the Royal Asiatic Society, and Corresponding 
 
 Member of the American Oriental Society. 
 
 This elegant octavo volume, from the pen of one of the most 
 learned men who has ever resided in India, is now ready for sale. 
 It is a work of great research, and without doubt the most com 
 plete and reliable ever published on this interesting portion of the 
 world. 8vo. 618 pages. Price, $2. 
 
 This volume is spoken of in the highest terms by the Reviewers. 
 The Editor of the Lowell Journal uses the following language : 
 
 " This beautiful octavo volume, of 618 pages, is a work of marked labor 
 and learning. It is a valuable addition to our historical literature, and a 
 noble tribute to the cause of missions, furnishing another of those proofs 
 which are every dav multiplied, that the gi-eat missionary work is pro 
 moting arts, laws, refinements, comforts, science, while its direct object is 
 the inculcation of a pure religion. The book carries us back into a dim 
 antiquity, tracing with a rapid pen manners and customs, mythologies 
 and theologies, historical annals and biographical incidents, of the past 
 and the present, with a vividness and philosophical connection hardly to 
 be attained except by a long residence in the country described. 
 
 "It is a striking picture of the wonderful providences by which this 
 vast peninsula, the cradle of the race, and the birthplace of mighty em 
 pires, as well as the strong-hold of superstition, has been transferred to a 
 Christian power, and thus opened to civilization and the doctrines of Christ. 
 Its historical facts are more startling than any romance, and more instruc 
 tive than most histories. To those who are at all familiar with the prodi 
 gies of valor performed by Robert Clive, with the unsurpassed talent for 
 administration manifested by Warren Hastings, with the themes from 
 which Burke drew his most impassioned oratory, and from which Macau- 
 lay has wrought out his most splendid pictures and especially to thoso 
 who mark the hand of God in history, and who rejoice to behold the down 
 fall of hoary idolatries and the rise of glorious systems of truth and benefi 
 cence the volume will have a great fascination. It is written from a 
 full mind, in a lucid method, with prominent facts and interesting reflec 
 tions attracting from beginning to end. The author was twenty-five years 
 a resident of India, and he brings to the work an accurate observation, 
 great research, a true Christian philosophy, and a hearty love. We know 
 not where to find an American work that goes over the same ground with 
 the same ability, or an Eng4ish work conveying the same information, ex 
 cept in the most voluminous and inaccessible forms." 
 
THE BIBLE HISTORY OF PRAYER. 
 
 BY REV. CHARLES A. GOODRICH. 
 
 One Vol. 12mo. Price, $1. 
 
 THIS beautiful volume contains the Examples of Prayer in the 
 Old and New Testaments, with a full explanation of the various 
 occasions on which they were offered, with anecdotes and practical 
 reflections. This work comes strongly recommended. 
 
 Rev. Dr. S. L. Pomroy says: "This book is the result of a happy 
 thought." 
 
 Rev. Dr. Hawes, of Hartford, says : " The plan and execution of this 
 work is eminently successful." 
 
 A CURIOUS BOOK. 
 
 THE RELIGION OF THE HEATHEN, 
 
 IN ITS POPULAR AND SYMBOLICAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 BY REV. JOSEPH B. GROSS. 
 The Contents of this unique, original, and highly valuable work, 
 
 fication and Antiquity of the Gods ; G. Attributes of the Gods, and 
 their Moral and Physical Administration of the World ; 7. The 
 Oracles, Divinations, or Auguries of Heathenism ; 8. Heathen 
 Religion in its Symbolical Development; 9. The Astronomical 
 Gods; 10. Origin and Character of the Egyptian Religion; 
 11. Cosmogony and Theory of the Hindoos ; 12. Religious Creed 
 of the Scandinavians; 13. Gods of the Heathen represented 
 in Mythology; 14. The Mithras and Mitra of the Persians ; 
 15. The Olympic Games; 16. The Eleusynian Mysteries. 
 
 The Editor of the Christian Freeman says : 
 
 " To the Christian scholar, this is one of the most valuable works re 
 cently issued from the American press. The author gives proof of having 
 devoted great attention to the subject, and of having the capacity and will 
 to exercise a just discrimination. He puts away the fallacious ideas which 
 have been propagated iipon the gods and worship of heathen antiqxiitv. 
 
 He vindicates the philosophers of the Gentiles from that downright idiocy 
 or knavery which a pitiable prejudice and pride, if not shameful ignorance, 
 has ascribed to them, and shows how naturally their views were conceived 
 under the circumstances in which they were "placed. It is interesting to 
 see how much of the invention of the antique heathen mind in the con 
 struction of their Mythology, was prompted by the difficulties which at 
 this moment trouble "some of our Christian philosophers, in the way of ac 
 counting for the evils that are in the world, without impeaching the char 
 acter of the good Deity. And we think thev evinced more wisdom thai! 
 
 do the modern philosophers referred to." 
 
3 
 THE WRITINGS OF 
 
 REV. 5TEHEMIAH ADAMS, D. D. 
 
 THE FRIENDS OF CHRIST. 
 
 One vol. 8vo. Price, $1.00. 
 
 CHRIST A FRIEND. 
 
 One vol. 8vo. Price, $1.00. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 4 A rare combination of various learning, forcible reasoning, graceful dic 
 tion, felicitous illustration, beautiful simplicity, and pertinent applica 
 tion." Puritan Recorder, Boston. 
 
 " Every way worthy of the fine taste, superior scholarship, and unaf 
 fected Christian spirit of the autkor." Boston Traveller. 
 
 " Conceived in a delightful spirit, and written with rare ability both of 
 thought and style." Ziori s Herald, (Methodist). 
 
 " These volumes will live and not die, and as long as they live will 
 nourish and develop the germs of piety. The portraitures of Christian 
 chai acter are so accurate and finely wrought, lifelike and natural in their 
 conception and finish, that they thrill the soul continually." Boston 
 Conr/regationalist. 
 
 " The beauty of style, tenderness of feeling, and richness of doctrinal 
 and experimental truth, which the Discourses display, are of high order. 
 Some of the portraitures of character are exquisite, and the hand of tho 
 artist is visible in all." New York Evangelist. 
 
 REV. DK. ADAMS NEW BOOK, 
 
 THE COMMUNION SABBATH. 
 
 Price, $1.00. 
 
 [From the New Yorlc Observer.] 
 
 " It is impossible for us to speak in terms of too earnest commendation of 
 this beautiful volume,which we would gladly see in the hands of all Christian 
 readers. It is upon a theme on which Dr. Adams is just the man to write, 
 and his whole soul breathes its holy fervor over these glowing pages. The 
 most interesting topics that cluster about the Lord s table are treated with 
 the skill of a master writer, and the truths of the gospel are brought home 
 to the heart with such fulness of instruction and depth of emotion, as to 
 feed and strengthen the soul." 
 
 [From the Christian Secretary, Hartford.] 
 
 " The spirit of trae piety pervades eveiy page, and the conscientious 
 Christian can hardly read the work without spiritual profit. We wish that 
 every church-member in the land, and especially every delinquent in regard 
 to the ordinance of the Lord s Supper, would procure the book and read it. 
 It is a good work, and pertinent to the state of the Christian Chuch." 
 
MOORE S. COMPLETE 
 
 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MUSIC: 
 
 ELEMENTARY, TECHNICAL, HISTORICAL, BIOGRAPHICAL, 
 VOCAL, AND INSTRUMENTAL. 
 
 In one superb royal 8vo. volume of over 1,000 pages. Price, in cloth, $4.00 ; 
 half Turkey morocco, $4.50. 
 
 This is a work which should be in every library, both public and 
 private. It is by far the most thorough work on Music ever pub 
 lished in the world. 
 
 John S. Dwight, Esq., the accomplished editor of the " Journal 
 of Music," speaks thus of this great work : 
 
 " This long-announced and eagerly-expected work has at last made its 
 appearance. It lies here before us, a tempting, noble-looking royal oc 
 tavo, of a thousand pages, solid as a London book, and qTiite as neat and 
 clear and elegant, as regards type and paper; artistically bound in purple 
 cloth, and cheap, only four dollars. It is one of the finest specimens of 
 typography "which has ever issued from the Boston Stereotype Foundry. 
 The musical illustrations, too, with which its pages abound, are most in 
 vitingly set. Externally, this book challenges comparison with any Amer 
 ican specimen of bookmaking; and the enterprising publishers, Messrs. 
 J. P. Jewett & Co., have every reason to congratulate themselves upon the 
 manner in which they have ushered so important a work into the world. 
 We have begun by noticing externals: now for the work itself, its aim, 
 and method, and achievements. 
 
 " It proposes to furnish (as far as may be in such compact form) a com 
 plete Encyclopaedia of Music ; that is, a convenient book of reference for 
 ready information upon all topics, names, and persons that pertain to 
 music, as a science or an art. The subject-matters are alphabetically ar 
 ranged, and include explanations on all points of musical science and nota 
 tions ; definitions of musical terms, to the number of at least five thousand ; 
 descriptions of musical instruments of all nations, ancient and modern, 
 with their scales; accounts of the lives and achievements of some four 
 thousand musical composers, performers, theorists, and critics; and, under 
 one general, as well as many particular heads, an orderly synopsis of 
 music, from the first ages down to very recent times. To this we may 
 add a pretty copious miscellany of musical curiosities, antiquities, etc., 
 and a liberal supply of musical illustrations in note." 
 
Salmnau in tjjc |linctt % cutf) (Lniturji, 
 
 KINDRED PAPERS RELATING TO THE SPHERE, CONDITION, 
 AND DUTIES OF WOMAN. 
 
 BY 
 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. 
 
 EDITED BY HER BROTHER, ARTHUR B. FULLER. WITH AS INTRODUCTION BY 
 HORACE GREELEY. 
 
 In one elegant volume, 12mo. Price, 61.00. 
 
 The editor of the Christian Examiner speaks thus of this extra 
 ordinary woman : 
 
 " Of the general spirit of the essay we can, and we must, speak with 
 sincere and hearty approbation. There is a noble and stirring eloquence 
 in many of the passages that no susceptible person can fail to be affected 
 by. Great lustrous thoughts break out from the pages, finely uttered. 
 The pervading sentiment is humane, gentle, sympathetic. Miss Fuller 
 says, in one place: I wish woman to live, first, for God s sake; and she 
 seems to be possessed by the reverential, devout feeling indicated by this 
 remark. She casts a deserved contempt on the miserable trifling so often 
 exhibited by men in their conversation and deportment with women a 
 custom that depreciates and openly insults their character. For our own 
 part, we have often wondered at their patient toleration of the indignity 
 implied so palpably in this sort of bearing. Mere topics of flippant dis 
 course are perpetually introduced in society for their entertainment, as 
 if they were capable of comprehending nothing else. She urges, in re 
 spectful term?, their rights, both in property, and, as mothers, to their 
 children, suggesting some worthy thoughts for lawmakers. She would 
 have woman respectably employed. She would elevate the purposes of 
 their lives, and, by dignifying their position and character, restore the 
 ancient chivalrous respect paid them by every manly heart. Her no 
 tions do not seem ultra nor extravagant. She does not ask that woman 
 may be thrust into man s sphere, but that she may have aright and honor 
 able sphere of her own, whether as a sister, daughter, mother, or old- 
 maid. And, for ourselves, \ve admire the noble appeals, near the close 
 of the work, in which she rebukes vice, and entreats for it a wise but 
 prompt consideration. She has discussed a delicate topic delicately and 
 fearlessly; without prudish folly, without timidity, as a true woman 
 should. No tongue will dare to cavil at her. She is too evidently above 
 all criticism in this quarter, far up out of its reach. What she has said 
 needed to be said, and, if the age has any necessity, needs, we firmly 
 believe, to be repeated, felt, and acted upon. The nineteenth century 
 has a mission to woman, ai3 well as she to the nineteenth century." 
 
 1* 
 
6 
 
 THE WRITINGS OF 
 
 THE REV. JOHN GUMMING, D. D 
 
 OF LONDON. 
 
 THE BENEDICTIONS, OR THE BLESSED LIFE, 1vol., 
 THE CHURCH BEFORE THE FLOOD, " 
 
 THE TENT AND THE ALTAR, " 
 
 THE VOICES OF THE DAY, " 
 
 THE VOICES OF THE NIGHT, " 
 
 THE VOICES OF THE DEAD, 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN S DAILY LIFE, " 
 
 MORNING SCRIPTURE READINGS ON GENESIS, 
 MORNING SCRIPTURE READINGS ON EXODUS, 
 MORNING SCRIPTURE READINGS ON LEVITICUS, 
 EVENING SCRIPTURE READINGS ON MATTHEW, 
 EVENING SCRIPTURE READINGS ON MARK, 
 EVENING SCRIPTURE READINGS ON LUKE, 
 EVENING SCRIPTURE READINGS ON JOHN, 
 LECTURES ON ROMANISM, [very thick volume,] 
 THE END, 
 
 12mo, price, 75 cts. 
 
 IS, " " 
 
 75 " 
 
 JS, " " 
 
 75 " 
 
 cus, < 
 
 75 " 
 
 [EW, " " 
 
 75 " 
 
 it < 
 
 75 " 
 
 U CC ( 
 
 75 " 
 
 C( .1 ( 
 
 .75 " 
 
 1 CC I 
 
 1.00 " 
 
 1C U ( 
 
 75 " 
 
 The admirable writings of this distinguished preacher are so well 
 known in this country that it is not necessary to publish many 
 testimonials in their favor. We give a few from leading religious 
 papers. 
 
 " Thousands will bless the publishers for bringing to the American pub 
 lic a knowledge of these writings." Ch. Mirror, Portland. 
 
 " Dr. Gumming is unquestionably the most eminent preacher now in 
 London, and it may be doubted whether he has his superior even in Eu 
 rope." Puritan Recorder. 
 
 " No one can rise from the perusal of Dr. Cumming s writings without 
 having his mind enlightened, if not his heart amended." Lutheran Ob 
 server, Baltimore. 
 
 " Nc Christian family can afford to be without these books of Dr. Gum 
 ming." Ch. Chronicle, Philadelphia. 
 
 " In style, these volumes are very fascinating, while in spirit they are 
 deeply devout." Congregationalist, Boston. 
 
 " All of this writer s works are eloquent, soul-stirring, and stimulating, 
 pregnant with profitable instruction." Ziorfs Herald, Boston. 
 
 " We know few books so enriched with thought, and so pervaded with 
 genial Christian feeling, as those of Dr. Gumming." The Presbyterian, 
 Philadelphia. 
 
7 
 
 flm 3&mt 36nnk for 
 
 BAKER S CHURCH MUSIC. 
 
 A COLLECTION OF 
 
 HYMN-TUXES, CHANTS, SENTENCES, AND ANTHEMS; 
 
 Selected and arranged from the Works of both Ancient and Modern Mas 
 ters. Together with many Original Compositions. 
 
 BY B. F. BAKER. 
 
 This new and what we believe will prove to be one of the most 
 valuable collections of Sacred Music yet offered to the public, will 
 be published by us about the 15th of July, 1855. It will be the 
 size of ordinary collections of Church Music, and will be printed 
 on fine paper, and firmly bound. Retail price, 75 cts. $7.50 per 
 dozen. The attention of musical men is respectfully called to 
 this carefully prepared work. 
 
 BAKER S SCHOOL MUSIC BOOK; 
 
 A COLLECTION OF 
 
 SONGS, CHANTS, AND HYMNS, 
 
 DESIGNED FOB 
 JUVENILE CLASSES, COMMON SCHOOLS, AND SEMINARIES: 
 
 Containing a Complete System of Elementary Instruction in the Principles 
 of Musical Notation. 
 
 BY B. F. B A K E K. 
 
 Price, at retail, 37 cents ; $3.36 per dozen. 
 
 This is unquestionably a work of great merit, and one of the 
 best Juvenile Music Books yet published. It is being extensively 
 introduced into the public and private schools of the cities and 
 larger towns in all sections of the country. Teachers of music 
 who are using this work speak in high terms of its merits. The 
 newspaper press has also given a strong verdict in its favor. 
 
A BOOK FOR BOTH SEXES. 
 
 PRICE, 75 CENTS. 
 
 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 BY A MARRIED MAN AND DISTINGUISHED 1 UYSICIAN. 
 
 This is one of the most remarkable books which has been pub 
 lished in any country. In language simple, decorous, and respect 
 ful, and in terms of fatherly kindness, it reveals to the young of both 
 sexes a fund of information hitherto chiefly inaccessible in any re 
 liable form, and for want of which many have been prompted to 
 resort to sources either questionable or of immoral tendency. The 
 work is written by one of our oldest and most experienced medi 
 cal men, who has devoted a long life to the study of Physiology. 
 The work was examined in manuscript by competent judges, and 
 pronounced to be as unexceptionable as any work which has ap 
 peared in the English language. It breathes, moreover, a truly 
 Christian spirit. The following, briefly, are its contents : 
 
 1. The true Relation of the Sexes; 2. Premature Marriage 
 and its consequences; 3. Errors of Education; 4. Errors of 
 Courtship; 5. Individual Transgression and its Penalties; G. 
 Social Errors and their Punishment ; 7. Physical Laws of Mar 
 riage ; 8. A Fundamental Error; 9. The Laws of Preg 
 nancy ; 10. Crime without a name; 11. The Laws of Lacta 
 tion ; 12. A Crime that ought not to be named; 13. Direc 
 tions to Parents and Guardians ; 14. General Directions. 
 
 The Newspaper editors use the strongest language in referring 
 to this book. READ WHAT THEY SAY. This book is destined to 
 produce a Physiological Revolution in this country. It will have 
 an immense sale, because it concerns us all, both male and female. 
 The Editor of the Evening Traveller, Boston, uses the following 
 strong language in noticing it : .. 
 
 " THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MARRIAGE By an old Physician, IGmo, 259 
 pages. John P. Jewett & Co. A book that should be read by every man 
 and woman in the land married or unmarried. It treats of topics of 
 vital interest; but of which not one in a thousand know any tiling; who 
 in consequence of their thoughtless ignorance, more than wilful sinfulness, 
 violate the laws of health and even life, bring upon themselves suffering 
 and woe, and upon their offspring enfeebled constitutions, disease, and 
 death. These topics are of a delicate and difficult character, and for this 
 reason good men who were capable of treating them have avoided them. 
 But every reader of the Physiology of Marriage, unless utterly perverted 
 in his tastes and imagination, will admit, on reading these pages, that the 
 "old physician" has dealt with these important topics as an aged father 
 Avould be likely to do when addressing a beloved child. His instructions 
 and counsels are so plain that none need mistake them, while there is 
 nothing in them to minister to a perverted and prurient taste." 
 
 Numerous other notices, equally strong, have been received by 
 the Publishers from all sections of the country. 
 
9 
 DR. HARRIOT K. HUNT. 
 
 We have just published the Autobiography of this EXTRAORDI 
 NARY WOMAX, under the title of 
 
 GLANCES AND GLIMPSES; 
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF SOCIAL, COMPRISING TWENTY YEARS OF 
 PROFESSIONAL LIFE. 
 
 In one volume, 12mo. Price, $1.00 
 
 This work is meeting with great favor. The editor of the Hart 
 ford ^Republican says of it : 
 
 "A book which should be in the hands of every family in America. 
 Some things in it we do not indorse, but it is a very important and in 
 teresting volume. Let Miss Dr. Hunt be read everywhere ! " 
 
 [From the New York Observer.] 
 
 " The life and experiences of a female physician, and the reflections she 
 is constrained to make, render this volume richly worth a study, whatever 
 may be our views of the proprieties of women seeking the medical pro 
 fession. We think they are in many respects fitted by nature for this 
 work, and we have therefore encouraged them to study the profession. 
 The perusal of this volume, however, will enable one *to form some ade 
 quate idea of the embarrassments that beset the female practitioner, and 
 while some may be stimulated, others will be deterred." 
 
 [From the Daily Bee, Boston.] 
 
 "As she is a woman of close observation and trained intellect ; a woman 
 of heart as well as mind; who has mingled in the practical, every-day 
 world far more than nine tenths of her sex; who has acted for her 
 self, done the thinking and working of a man as well as woman ; who is 
 original, sharp, singular for these and other reasons her book is a rare, 
 instructive, fascinating, and readable one. How could it be otherwise? 
 She is a live woman; and has written while awake. Few will agree with 
 some of her opinions, for she is -ultra. To be ultra, as the world goes, is 
 sometimes to be frightful. Miss Hunt s view of the property question, 
 and some others, have long been the subject of jeer and butt, but with 
 very little wit, and a good deal less sense. She may be right we con 
 cede she is to a good extent and merits a respectful hearing. We recom 
 mend the book. It is one to read and keep. To take down from the shelf 
 and road again. There is not only thought in it, but food for thought." 
 
10 
 THE WRITINGS OF 
 
 REV. RUFUS W. CLARK, 
 
 OF BOSTON. 
 
 HEAVEN AND ITS SCRIPTURAL EMBLEMS, in one elegant 
 
 8vo volume, with Five superb Steel Engravings; cloth . $1.50 
 
 The same in cloth, full gilt, 2.00 
 
 The same in Turkey Morocco, 2.50 
 
 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN, One volume, 12mo. . . . 1.00 
 " Gilt edges and sides, . . 1.50 
 
 LIFE SCENES OF THE MESSIAH. One volume, 12mo. . . 1.25 
 " " " " Cloth gilt, . . . 1.75 
 
 " " " " -Turkey Morocco, . . 2.50 
 
 Mr. Clark s writings Lave met with great favor from the re 
 ligious public and the reviewers. 
 
 VOICES FROM THE SILENT LAND; 
 
 OK 
 
 nf (CnnsnUtinn fur tyi S 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. H. DWIGHT WILLIAMS. 
 In one elegant 12mo. Plain, $1.00 ; cloth, full gilt, 1.50 ; calf extra, $2.50. 
 
 " Into the silent land ! Ah ! who can say that the footsteps of none he 
 once loved on earth have entered the shadow of that pale realm V " 
 
 "This is a delightful volume, suited for all: for all have some dear 
 friends who have gone into the Silent Land, and after whom they some 
 time* cast a longing look into the shadows of that pale realm. 
 
 The air is full of farewells for the dying, 
 And mournings for the dead. 
 
 " These Voices from the Silent Land, have been compiled by one 
 while in deep affliction, her idea being to induce others to make a good 
 and wise use of afflictive dispensations ; while, at the same time, she re 
 ceives soothing consolations to herself. 
 
 Tia sweet, as year by year we lose 
 Friends out of sight, in faith to muse, 
 llow grows in Paradise our store. 
 
 " The volume before us is eminently fitted to aid us in such musing; 
 and therefore we heartily commend its perusal to those in affliction." 
 
u 
 
 A COLLECTION OF 
 
 CHOICE TUNES AND HYMNS 
 
 FOR PRAYER, CLASS, AND CAMP MEETINGS, CHOIR AND CONGREGA 
 TIONAL SINGING. 
 
 Eev. W. MCDONALD, of the Maine Conference, and S. HUKBARD, Esq., 
 Author of Several Musical Works. 
 
 Price, 50 cents single; $4.80 per dozen. 
 
 This work is destined to become a very popular music book 
 for social meetings with the Methodist denomination. 
 
 Rev. W. F. Farrinpjton, Pastor of the Pine St. Methodist Church, 
 Portland, Maine, a man of fine musical taste, writes thus to the 
 Editor of Zion s Herald, Boston : 
 
 " THE V. r i-:sLEYAx SACKED HARP. A Collection of Choice Tunes and 
 Hymns for Social and Congregational Singing. By Rev. M. McDoNALD 
 and S. HUBDARD, Esq. 
 
 ;t BRO. WISE: I wonder that no more has been said publicly in favor 
 of this excellent work! It must be that it has not been examined by a 
 practical test, generally, or that it is thought to possess sufficient merit 
 in itself to recommend it wherever it is known. The selection, composition, 
 ami arrangement of the music, and hymns, the latter principally from our 
 standard book, evince a taste and skill, which ought to give it an extensive 
 circulation. It is just the book for our family circles, and social religious 
 meetings. Having the hymn and music before us, on the same page, it 
 will help to correct the time and tune of many who join in this delightful 
 portion of religious worship, and prevent those grotesque and grating 
 sounds which often annihilate melody, and sometimes the devotional 
 feelings even, of those whose ears and voices are scientifically cultivated. 
 Cannot the compiler add in another edition some fifteen or twenty care 
 fully selected tunes and hymns, suitable to be used in our public congre 
 gations, where congregational singing has been adopted? And we fondly 
 hope that this method of singing will speedily obtain throughout our New 
 England churches. It is the most conducive to spirituality and union of 
 any mode yet adopted. Success to the Harp, and let every Methodist 
 vestry, especially, be generally supplied with it. 
 
 " W. F. FARRIXGTOX. 
 u Portland, Nov. 6, 1855." 
 
SSUr 
 
 12 
 
 011 
 
 MODERN MYSTERIES 
 
 EXPLAINED AND EXPOSED 
 
 BY REV. PRESIDENT MAHAN. 
 Complete in one volume. 12mo. Price, $1.00. 
 
 From the able Editor of the Cambridge Chronicle : 
 
 " The time has come when the phenomena of Spiritualism must be met 
 and examined. It will not do to deny the facts, and sneer at those who 
 relate them. There is around us a mysterious power, which has been, or 
 can be called into exercise, but which has not been satisfactorily ac 
 counted for. The reality of these manifestations in some undoubted 
 cases, has given rise to innumerable shams by which the credulous have 
 been deceived, and the cautious disgusted. By ascribing the wonder 
 ful things which have been seen, heard, and felt to the agency of departed 
 spirits, the beholders of these strange doings have disgusted many reason 
 able men and driven them to deny, not only the cause, but the reality of 
 the facts. The absurdity of attributing to such men as Lord Byron and 
 Shakspeare the commonplace remarks which have been published in 
 revelations from their spirits is enough to throw discredit on the theory 
 which claims for the manifestations a spiritual origin. 
 
 " President Mahan gives by far the most satisfactory, reasonable, and phi 
 losophical explanation of what is called Spiritualism that we have yet 
 seen. He has devoted much time and earnest thought to the examination 
 of the subject, and we have in this volume the result of his investigations. 
 He does not deny the reality of the cases reported, but takes them up, 
 examines, and explains them by his theory." 
 
 Lieut. Gov. Brown of Massachusetts, speaks thus of the work : 
 
 " The book is the ablest and most satisfactory one on this subject that 
 has yet appeared, and should be read by all who wish to inform themselves 
 in regard to these mysterious phenomena." 
 
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