Jb .f* Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2007 witii funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/brokenweddingrinOObramrich Broken Wedding Ring A NOVEL Br . . ...... BERTHA M; CLAY AOTHOR OF THE SHADOW OF A SIN," "WIFE IN NAME ONLY,'' "THE DUKE'S SECRET "A TRUE MAGDALEN," "DORA THORNE," ETC., ETC. CHICAGO : DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO., 407-429 Dearborn Street. AND BOOHO n DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY CHICAGO *e* A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, i CHAPTER I. THE walls of t]f?A pretty cow.try town of Harbury, in Kent, were all placarded with the name of Martin Ray — Martin Ray, the Radical, the Reformer ; " the Voice of the People " ; as he liked best to call himself ; the philanthropist, the hater of queen and aristocracy, the teacher of treason ; the man who worked for, yet lived upon the people; the man who was half genius, half madman, half poet, full of great thoughts all distorted, full of grand ideas all wrong ; a man whose Tps had been touched by the divine fire of eloquence, who could stir the hearts of the people as the wind stirs the leaves ; a man who had magnificent conceptions of what the world might be made, yet failed utterly in making them practical ; a man over whom a wise government hesitates, hardly knowing whether to crush him or to take him by the hand and make a friend of him. More than one prime minister had knitted his brows over the name of Martin Ray ; more than one popular outburst had followed the fire of this man's words. He was earnest and sincere. He hated everything that apper- tained to rovalty ; against the queen as a woman he said never a woi'a — against her as the head of the State he ut- lured thunders of wrath. The aristocracy he hated with 961728 4 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING* hcin'esi hatred '- H^ V-6uld have taken the broad acres jf duke. ajad.eafl and •sli-^r^a" them among the laboring poor. •H^'firolSsted'tKat ^tia6 mohopoly of wealth by a few was a gross injustice to the many ; he swore that he would give his life to undo the wrong ; at the same time, he was con- tent to live himself upon the subscriptions of the people whom he misled and excited to sedition. He could be tracked easily as the flaming fire that lays bare the prairie. Wherever he went he was fol- lowed by loud murmurs of popular discontent, and then came riot and imprisonment. In quiet hamlets, in sleepy villages, in peaceful towns, in factories, workshops, and garrets, his words fell, and set fire to those who listened. At Harbury there had been a trial for bribery at the elections. " There is sure to be a flaw in the armor there," thought Martin Ray ; " it is the very place for a paying lect- ure by the * working-man's friend.' " So the walls of the old town were placarded with the name of Martin Ray, the famous Radical, and the people thirsted to see the new champion of popular rights. Harbury had always been a quiet Conservative town, the inhabitants of which had rarely troubled themselves with politics, save at election times ; but now among the poor and the artisan class a new light was spreading. They were no longer to be repressed and contemned ; every man was to have his due ; there should be none very rich, none very poor. And the man who was to help in the accomplishment of all this was coming — "the Voice of the People," Martin Ray. No wonder that the old walls were placarded, and that every gate and door bore his name. The largest placard of all was that opposite the house of Amos Hatton, who lived in Castle Street, Harbury, the last descendant of what had once been a wealthy and powerful family. For generations they had faded and de- cayed ; they had no longer houses or lands, nor even posi- A BROKEN WEDDING RING, g tion; and Amos Hatton had been compelled to apply himself to one of the professions. He was a solicitor, with a small but paying practice ; and, being a staunch Conserv- ative, the name of Martin Ray in large letters opposite to his door displeased him greatly. When he came down to breakfast on this fine May morning, there the words were, looking him defiantly in the face, while his pretty daughter Doris was gazing at them intently. She turned when he entered. " Papa," she asked, " what is a Radical ? '* The old lawyer's face flushed hotly. " I will not answer you until I feel calmer ; to say the least of it, it is most atrocious to place that name there." The girl looked at it with softened eyes. "Martin Ray," she said — "it is not a bad name, papa." *'It is not the name, but the man," rejomed the lawyer. " The fellow is capable of anything ; and unfortunately he is a fine orator, they say." " I should like to hear him," said Doris. " Hear him ! Do you want your ears to burn, Doris, through listening to such doctrines as his ? Take my word for it, the man who does not believe in and serve his queen fails to serve his Maker.'* Doris made no answer, but in her heart she said that such a sweeping condemnation was unfair — that many men to whom the word " royalty," even, was an abomination tried their best to lead a pure life. " I do not see what politics have to do with religion," said Doris dreamily. *' When a man is true in one thing, he is likely to be true in all," declared the lawyer ; " and if he is false in one, he is apt to be false in all. Give me my hat, Doris \ I wUJ have that poster down." His daughter smiled? 6 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. " You can tear down the bill, papa , but you cannot re« move the man," she said. "Unfortunately, no; if I could, I would have him locked up/' " I should like to hear him," said Doris. " I have never heard a really eloquent speaker. May I go to the lecture ? " " I shall be ashamed if you do," replied the lawyer. But Doris laughed. " Not quite that. Sir John Darke is going, with his wife and daughters. I should like to go also." *' Well, you can go, Doris — that is, if your cousin will accompany you. Just once will not matter, and it will prove to you what nonsense such men talk. You will cer- tainly hear a fine orator. I have heard that Martin Ray's words fall like flame and set his hearers' hearts on fire. Go, but do not mention the man's name to me again.'* Mr. Hatton finished his tea and went off to the office, where, in the intricacies of " Luvson v. Gother," he forgot all about Martin Ray ; nor did he dream that a tragedy had begun that day. Harbury was a quiet town, with very few amusements, and such a thing as a great political lecture, no matter on what side, was not to be neglected. Doris Hatton was well pleased to go. She had all her life heard her father speak of Radicals as of a class of beings quite different from other men. Here was a chance of seeing the enemy. Partly because she had nothing else to do, partly because fate or destiny led her, Doris Hatton went to the lecture. Looking over the sea of faces, changing, brightening; or darkening under the fire or scorn of his words, Martin Ray saw one that lived in his heart for evermore — a pale, refined, pretty face, with great earnest eyes and a tender mouth, the far,e u£ a girl who must *3e a hero-worshipper by A BROKEN ITEDDING RING. tj nature. The expression of it was rapt and attentive ; the eyes never left his ; the face paled, the lips quivered, the eyes brightened, and the face flushed as he changed his theme. It was like playing on some grand harp ; touch what chords he would, the response was certain. After awhile the girl's face held him captive — he found himself speaking to it, thinking of it, watching it as it changed and paled. It was no longer himself and his audience, but himself and this girl. He was explaining to her his doctrine ; imbuing her mind with his ideas. Martin Ray surpassed himself this evening ; the young face inspired him ; and, although among his listeners were many who dissented from him, who believed him to be al- most criminally wrong, no one could help admiring the earnest discourse of " the Voice of the People." Those who disagreed with him regretted that so much talent should be abused ; thos6 who believed in him gave him an ovation, and feasted him royally in the old town of Har- bury. All night Martin Ray dreamed of one face, one pair of eyes ; and, when morning dawned, he felt that the common lot of humanity was his at last — he loved the fair unknown girl with a love that naught could change. He found out who she was ; she was Doris Hatton, the only daughter of the stanch old solicitor, who would be his greatest political enemy. He tried to get an introduc- tion at the house, but failed completely. Amos Hatton would not receive him. Still Martin Ray could not tear himself from the girl ; and he found means to meet her and to tell her how well he loved her. Doris Hatton was always inclined to take a romantic view of matters, and she made of the man a perfect hero. All che ideas and theories of her life were upset. She be- lieved this man, with his dark eyes and fervid thoughts, to be a prophet among the people. At his bidding, down 8 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, went the altars of her youth ; loyalty, obedience, reverence for superiors — all vanished, and before her spread the wide plain of universal equality. She loved Martin Ray with perfect love, such as he could have won from no ether creature living. There was a long struggle in her heart between allegiance to her father and this swift, s,veet, new- born love ; but, as this new teacher told hei", the old land- marks were swept away, they existed no longer — no father had a right to interfere with the marriage of his children. Through the sweet month of May, while the hawthorn bloomed on the hedges and the clover grew, he contrived to see her every evening. He found that Harbury was a ^ood school. He wrote to the committee of which he was the head, and said that he should remain there while he founded a society, and taught the people what were work- men's rights and wrongs. He labored honestly enough, and in the intervals of work he secretly wooed Doris — Doris, who wondered how this man, so gifted, so different from other men, came to love her — Doris, who believed in his dreams and his visions, and who foresaw a time when all men would be equal, when poverty and toil would be done away with, and universal peace, charity, harmony, and comfort reign, Martin Ray, her hero, was to bring about this. She did not know then that Martin Ray lived in luxury on the money that should have fed the children of the poor with bread. She had to learn the hardest of all iesboas— the difference between precept and practice. A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, CHAPTER IL Amos Hatton stormed and raved when he received a letter from Martin Ray, asking for his daughter's hand. Nothing could exceed his wrath and indignation. *' You have good blood in your veins," he cried to the trembling girl. , '* You have ancestors who fought and died — died, mind you — for king and country, and you ask me if you may marry the man who has boasted that, if no one else were found willing, he himself would behead every sovereign reigning. He said that in his last lecture at Manchester. I read the words, and wondered at the pa tience of his listeners ; and you, my gentle, well-born, well- bred Doris, you could marry him 1 " " I love him — I cannot help it, papa. You misjudge him," she answered, despairingly. " I must love him ; no one understands him but me." " Must love him ! " repeated Amos Hatton. " Why, child, if you could but see, it is he, and such as he, who are the greatest enemies of the people." " You do not know him ! " she exclaimed. " He is a hero!" ** Hero ! Nonsense, Doris ; heroes do not live on the earnings of the people. Heroes do and dare ; this man incites others to deeds he dares not do himself. I should not object to see a cart-load of such heroes sent off to Van Diemen's Land." "You are unjust, papa," she cried. ** I cannot help it ; I love him. Oh, if you could but see how it is ! He wants me to be his wife and his helpmate. I am to assist him in his work. O, papa, do you not see how grand is the mission he offers me ? I am to be to the women of Eng* land what he is to the men. ,o A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. " Heaven forbid ! " exclaimed Amos Hatton. " I would rather, dearly as I love you, see you in your grave. I would rather," he added passionately, " far rather see you dead than the wife of Martin Ray. *' And I," she replied, raising her pale, fair face to him, ** would rather die than forsake him or give him up 1 " *' You must choose between us, Doris," said her father, trying to speak calmly. " If you marry him, I will never look upon your face again, I will never speak to you or hear your voice ; you will be no child of mine ; I will cast you off from me." She uttered a low cry of pain and despair. " I wonder," she said " if ever a girl had to choose be- tween her father and her lover before ? " " Yes," he replied ; " hundreds. As a rule, they choose the lover ; but you ought to be an exception Doris — ^you ought not to be of the common run of girls. I expect more from you. I will not take your answer yet ; you must think it over. It is not for a few days or months that you have to decide, but for life, Doris. My dear, try to disabuse yourself of the notion that Martin Ray is a hero. He is nothing of the kind. He is a paltry, miserable schemer, who lives upon the hard earnings of the people he mis- leads." " You cannot understand his aims, papa ! " she cried despairingly. " Nor do I wish to understand them. For the matter of that, you do not, Doris ; neither does he himself. I could tell you what his aims are far better than he could. Think well, Doris, before you decide. Your brother, Arthur, if I judge him rightly, will agree with me. You will give us both up for a stranger, a Radical, a demagogue ! Bah ! I have no patience to speak of it ! " This conversation took place on a bright June morn- ing. The lawyer had written a brief, contemptuous reply A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. n to Martin Ray's letter requesting his daughter's hand, and then sent for Doris to his study. He had fancied it would be easy to influence her. He believed that he had only to 352fuse, and she would forget all about the proposal. He had found that he was mistaken. The new love was stronger than the old ; hero-worship had a greater charm than mere obedience. Amos Hatton gave his daughter a few days to decide upon her fate in life. She took the decision into her own hands, and married Martin Ray — ^but not with her father's consent or blessing. She stole from the house one sunny morning never to enter it again. She kissed her father on the evening before, and never saw his face or heard his , voice again. She married the man whom she believed to be a hero, and reaped her reward. There was some little surprise and consternation in Harbury when it was known that Doris Hatton had mar- ried the young demagogue, whose appearance had created a social whirlwind. " What could she see in him, a pretty, sensible girl like Doris ? " people asked each other. Few understood the attraction that such a man would have for a romantic, sentimental girl. Doris thought no lot in the world one-half so brilliant as hers. Amos Hatton was a heart-broken man. He had but two children, and he had loved them with the deepest pos- sible love. His son Arthur, a handsome, spirited boy, eight years older than his sister, had chosen the army for a profession ; and quite early in his career he had received an excellent military appointment in India, where he was rapidly accumulating fame and fortune. Doris, his fair daughter, was the very pride of his heart. For her the old lawyer had worked and toiled, only to see himself for- saken for a man whom he hated and despised. His heart was bitter, and his v/rath was great. He wrote to his son 12 A BROKEN WEDDINC-RING, in India, telling him what had happened, and bidding him to drive all memory of his sister from him for ever. Then Amos Hatton made another will, in which he left all his property to his son ; and when he spoke of Doris it was as of one dead. Everything that had ever belonged to her — piano, books, pictures, clothes, ornaments — was sent after her. In the lawyer's pleasant, old-fashioned house in Harbury not a trace was left of the daughter once so beloved. He faded quickly after that. The three years that followed his marriage were per- haps the most brilliant of Martin Ray's life. The worship and adoration of his young wife stimulated him. He posi- tively began to believe himself what she imagined him to be. He began to think of himself as a true philanthro- pist, one born to help the people — as half prophet, half martyr — as the man chosen by all England to represent the wants, the wrongs, and the wishes of the working-classes. He began to imagine that the divi'ne mantle of genius had fallen on him, that he was chosen by Providence to be a leader among men, and he was stimulatad to greater, grander action. His name became almost a power in the land. It broke the old lawyer's heart every time he opened \ newspaper to read such words as " Riot in Liverpool," " Seditious Movement in Manchester," " Growth of Dis- loyalty among the Lower classes." " Disaffection at Hull ; " then at times he would see a paragraph calling attention to Martin Ray — to his fiery eloquence, to his wonderful in- fluence over the masses. The old lawyer would clinch his hands as he read. This stirrer-up of sedition, this man who was like a firebrand, who moved as a scorching flame over the fair, green, loyal land, this man who openly preached rebellion, spoliation, and treason — this man had taken his bright young daughter from him, and left him in A BPOKEN WEDDINF-RING, 13 anguish and sorrow. He said nothing; but slowly and surely it broke his heart. ^ One morning when he opened his newspaper he saw a long account of a grand political meeting in London, and the event of the day was the speech of Martin Ray. No one had heard its equal for burning eloquence, for Uto- pian ideas, for schemes and plans which were utterly unfeasible. It was a speech that made a loyal man long to see the one who gave utterance to it punished for it. Amos Hatton read it. Bitterness, anger, and regret filled his heart ; he suffered terribly. His emotion brought on a fit, and when his clerk went into the office he found him with his head on the table. The doctor who was hastily summoned said that he had been dead for an hour. He was generally regretted, and many people won- dered if the hapless daughter would attend her father's funeral. She did not. Martin Ray would not allow it. " He discarded you in life," he said, " you shall not return to him in death." The news of his decease was sent to India, where his son Arthur grieved heartily for him. According to his •will, everything that he possessed — house, furniture, pic- tures, plate, business, railway-shares mining shares — was sold, and the money was sent to his son. Arthur took it, and doubled it in a lew years. He thought of his little sister Doris with something like re- morse, but made up his mind that when he returned to England he would seek her out, and at least share the money with her. So Amos Hatton was buried and in due time forgotten. Doris mourned long and deeply for him. The time of her disenchantment had not yet arrived. She still believed in her husband as a great hero and an excellent man. None of her illusions had been dispelled, and her happiness had been crowned by the birth of two little daughters — beautV 14 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING ful children, the eldest of whom she had named Leah, and the second Hettie. She was wonderfully happy, this sweet, gentle Doris, who thought no husband and no children equal to her own. Cut oif from all her former associations and friends, thrown entirely ou her husband for society, no wonder that her life narrowed and her world became cen- tered in him. It did not take her many years to find out that her idol was of clay, to discover that he was no prophet, no martyr, that he cared little for the consequences of his seditious language and the fire he put into the hearts of the people, provided only that he made money and lived in comfort, that his eloquence was a great natural gift which he would just as cheerfully have turned to any other purpose, that, stripped of all the ideal qualities she had ascribed to him, he was simply a shrewd man of powerful intellect, rather more egotistical and more selfish than most of his fellows. Some wives live and die without either seeing their husband's faults or discerning their weaknesses. It was not so with Doris. The fact that she had been once blinded seemed to make her more clear-sighted afterward. The time came when she stood appalled at what she had done — when the clap-trap sentiments that she had once thought so heroic and grand appeared to her in their true light. The knowledge brought on a severe illness, and she died, leaving her two little daughters, Leah and Hettie. But, before she died, she wrote a letter to her far-off brother, who had never seen her since she was a child, owning tO' him that her marriage had been a fatal mistake, and pray, ing him to take charge of her children — to save them, to rescue them, if he could, from a fatal and unwholesome atmosphere, and do the best he could for them. He was Colonel Hatton when he received the letter. He placed it with his papers, intending to do what she asked, and in the whirl of his busy life forgot all abouC' itr I a BROKEN WEDDING-RiNQ jg CHAPTER III, No two girls ever had a stranger education and a more unequal life than had Leah and Hettie Ray. Sometimes they found themselves in the midst of comfort and luxury, with apartments at the West-end and at the seaside, ponies to ride, servants to wait upon them, the best of masters, for " accomplishments," and of governesses for ordinary teaching, the prettiest dresses, the daintiest food. Then would come poverty, squalor, common lodging-houses, common clothing, the want of even the necessaries of life. There was one thing that amid ail their ups and downs was never forgotten — study. No matter what happened, they always preserved their books and never missed their lessons. It was a strange life, most unsuited for young girls ; but it was the only one they had ever known. Dur- ing their mother's lifetime they had been more settled, they had lived longer in one place, they had been more uniformly comfortable ; but now they never had a home for more than three months together. Martin Ray was very kind, loving, and indulgent to them. He loved only three creatures during the whole course of his life — his wife and his children. He shared all he had with them. When strikes were plentiful, and the masses full of discontent ; when the " workman's penny" rolled in ; when men invited him to come and make their discontents greater and their misery more un- endurable by depicting both in their blackest of colors — » then he lived in luxury, and his daughters shared it with him. Those were the palmy days of West-end apartments and first-class music-masters. Then "the Voice of the J 6 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. People" lectured in good broadcloth, wearing a gold watch and chain ; and the patient, oppressed, toiling multitude gave their pence cheerfully, and never thought of the incon- gruity. When riot and anarchy reigned, when sullen hate grew into fierce vengeance, when man pursued master with dogged desire for ruin — then Martin Ray flourished, and his beautiful little daughters wore fine clothes and ate good food. But, when the loyal good sense of the people prevailed, when submission to lawful authority reignedp when the fire of discontent was extinguished — then dole- ful days set in for Martin. For, instead of paying the agi- tators v/ho avoided all danger while they led others into it, the workmen kept their money. Martin Ray was often at a loss to know where his din- ner or his children's clothes were to come from. Yet, in spite of all drawbacks, the girls grew up beautiful and in- telligent. Wherever Martin Ray went he took them with him ; and they learned much that was useful, with much that was the reverse. They had no friends ; it was impos- sible to form even acquaintances living as they did, alter- nately in luxury and poverty, in great cities and remote villages. The men with whom their father associated were almost unknown to them, and never brought wife or sister to see them. They were lonely and friendless. Then came a thne of great trouble of which they fortunately knew but little. When Leah was eleven and Hettie ten, Martin Ray, rendered desperate by what seemed to him long-continued peace and order, made a speech which brought him under the iron grip of the law. He was tried, and sentenced to three years imprisonment ; and, in spite of all that friends could do, of petitions, and of an agita- tion which spread all over the country, the sentence was carried out. Martin Ray, who had not scrupled to use the most offensive lan^ruage with regard to his sovereign, who had A BROKEN WEDDING'RING. 17 not hesitated to incite the people to sedition and rebellion, found his punishment in the ignominy and solitude of a prison. An old patron took pity on his youthful children. Sir John Falkner, a leading Radical, came to the rescue. He sent the children to a boarding-school kept by a poor rel- ative of his own — a Miss Fairfax — who resided at Kev/. He forbade any mention of their father's imprisonment ; and the children were told that he was away from home, ab- sent on special business, and would not return for a fe\^ years. They believed it implicitly. They had some kind of idea that their father was a great statesman, born to set the wrongs of the world right. If they had been told that he had gone to dethrone the Czar of all the Russi^s, they would have believed it just as implicitly. They spent three years with Miss Fairfax — and very happy years they were. "Let them learn everything." Sir John had said. " The chances are that Martin Ray will never be out of mischief again, and they may have to work for their living. Make them clever and accomplished women." Sir John spared no expense, Miss Fairfax no pains ; and the two sisters received an excellent education. Martin Ray was released from prison when Leah was in her fifteenth year and Hettie still almost a child of fourteen. He was not grateful to Sir John. He had in- tended to educate the girls after his own fashion. Leah, who was gifted, clever, and brilliant, he had meant to bring out as a lecturer ; a beautiful young woman lecturing on politics would be a novelty that would pay well. As for Hettie, there was plenty of time to think over what should be done with her. , Having plans of his own, he was hardly grateful to Sir John for having sent them to a school where they had re- ceived a solid, sensible education. He comforted himself i8 A BROKEl^ WEDDING-RING. by the thought that it was not too late to undo the effects of it ; he had time yet to form their minds as he would. He came out of prison homeless, friendless, almost penni- less, but the first thing he did was to take his daughters from school. He had secured apartments for them and for himself in Camden Town, and there he intended to devote his time, first to making money, and then to the education of his daughters. They never heard of or suspected the secret of his imprisonment ; he would rather have died than let them know it. He received their homage and wor- ship much as he had received their mother's before them, as a right, as incense they ought to burn before him. When they talked, in their simple girlish fashion, of how great a statesman he was, of what great things he would do, he was flattered and pleased. Many people looked coldly upon him now who had once seen noble qualities in him. The imprisonment had been against him. He was the more determined that his daughters at least should retain their veneration for him. People began to look upon him more as a popular agitator than as a guide or a leader. He was soured, imbittered, yet compelled by the force of the law to be more careful and reticent. He dared not again advocate the murder ot a king; and the fierce sentiments he had been wont to ex- press openly now seethed and gathered in his heart. Sul- len, bitter, vengeful rage had possession of him. How he longed to crush all those above him, the queen in whose name he had been arrested, the jury who had found him guilty, the judge who had sentenced him, the gover- nor and chaplain of the jail where he had been imprisoned, every aristocrat who had read his trial and smiled at his sentence ! How he hated them ! How he clothed in words more fierce than fire his black, bitter thoughts, though he did not dare utter them, lest the law should seize him again and render him mute \ A BROKEN' WEDDING-RING. 19 If he dared not speak in public, in private he atoned for it. When the little group of men met in the dingy parlor of the dingy house in Camden Town, what horrible treason was spoken, what vile, murderous plans were sug' gested ! The very fact that he could carry none of them out imbittered Martin Ray the more. He went into prison mistaken, yet earnest ; he came out more fiend than man. Before that event there had been something human in his breast ; nothing lived there now but a desire for revenge. He looked at the beautiful face of Leah, his daughter. If he could but educate her to his way of thinking, and send her out into the world like a firebrand — send her to preach equality and fraternity — men would listen to her, would follow her in crowds ; she would soon make a name, have an influence. He remembered how many women had made themselves famous in the same fashion. He looked with complacency at her beauty. If those dark eyes of hers would flash fire, if that lovely mouth would give utter- ance to his teachings, men would hang on her words and believe them. His beautiful Leah should be a popular lecturer — not on women's rights, but on men's freedom. He had the best masters in elocution for her, he spent hours each day in teaching her. The girl herself wondered at her own strange training. There were times when she half feared, half suspected that her father intended her for the stage, a profession for which she had no inclination. Although she had the most profound faith in him, it was strange that her taste, inter- ests, inclinations, and ideas did not agree with his. The blood of the loyal old race of Hatton ran in her veins. She was a Hatton, without one of the characteristics which distinguished the Rays. While Martin Ray made a hero of Oliver Cromwell, and worshipped him as the saviour of his country, Leah hated the name, and loved the memory Qi the handsome, graceful, graceless Stuarts ; while Mar ao A BROKEHf WEDDINC'RING. tin saw nothing but heroism in the Paris mob who dragged their beautiful queen to the scaffold, Leah loved and ad- mired Marie Antoinette. So through all the pages of his- tory ; and yet he thought to make her a denouncer of royalty ! Leah Ray was just sixteen, and beautiful as the open- ing bud of a June rose ; grace, dignity, and passion were marked in every line of her face. The brow was some- what low and broad, full of ideality and thought ; the eyes were dark, the eyebrows straight. It was a face perfect in shape and harmony, with a proud but sensitive mouth — a face difficult to read. The lightness and brightness of girlhood were not on it ; it was slightly mystical and dreamy, and the lustrous eyes had a shadow in them. The noble head, the graceful figure and its movements, the mass of dark waving hair, so fine and abundant, de- delighted Martin Ray. The more beautiful she was, the more sure was she to influence men. He never thought whether she would be willing to devjte her young life to the propagation of his ideas, whether she would care to give up all the allurements and pleasures of the world to dedicate herself to the people. He had never thought that she would refuse the mission he had appointed for her. The man who preached liberty to the world never dreamed of giving it to his own daughter ; he who openly taught rebellion against all authority never imagined that his daughter would disobey him, A sfioxMN w&djmiyi^^RJ^(k at CHAPTER IV. Martin Ray was living in one of the crowded streets of Manchester. The north was better suited to him than the south, because the great centers of industry were there. For some few months he had been unfortunate. Heaven had blessed the bountiful land with a fair, warm summer ; the harvest was plentiful, the fruit ripened in rich abun- dance ; there was a general air of prosperity ; no foreign war caused anxiety and agitation at home ; orders from abroad had come in freely, and people were busy at work. There was no time for considering how the land and money of the rich were to be divided ; men did hot care to be drawn from their work by agitation of any kind ; and Martin Ray had had fewer lectures to give. The contribu- tions from different committees came in slowly. He was compelled to be content with writing pamphlets, which, before they were published, underwent so much revision as to make them pointless. He was all the more eager to bring Leah forward. "The girl has genius — she has fire and power," he said to himself. "My mantle must fall upon her. Men will listen to words from that beautiful mouth that they will not hear from mine." He had trained her splendidly. She was well-read and thoughtful. She was a girl of magnificent talent, full of energy and the restless fire that proclaims genius. He had never told her until now what his intentions were with regard to her ; and on this day he had called her into the miserable little room he dignified by the name of study, to communicate his plans to hci*. 22 A BROKEN' WEDDTNG-RING, " You have grown very beautiful, Leah," he said, look- ing at her quite calmly — " very beautiful ; and it is time you know for. what purpose Heaven has sent you that same beauty." The girl smiled and blushed. She did not remember that her father had ever used such words to her before. Martin Ray went on, — " You have a grand mission in life, Leah. You must not be as other girls ; you must not think that dress, gayety, enjoyment, love, and marriage are the end and aim of your existence. You have a far more important future in store for you." She looked up at him in wonder. " I did not know that I had any mission, father." sha said, quietly. " What is it t " " The greatest, Leah, that ever fell to a woman. 1 have been preaching and teaching all my life. I havft given up everything in this world for the cause of the peo- ple — all my hopes, my ambition. I have served them, lived for them, spent my life for them ; and now, even as from the prophet of old, my mantle has fallen — and it has fallen upon you." " I do not understand," she replied. ** What am I to do?" " I will tell you," he said. " You must take my place. I can preach and teach no longer ; you must do it for me. You are young and beautiful ; you have great talent ; you have a clear, vibrating, sweet voice that will make its way to the very hearts of men ; you have the fire that belongs to genius ; you have a brilliant imagination — indeed, I may say that you have every requirement ; and a lady orator will be a novelty such as is not seen every day." " What do you want me to be, father } " she asked slowly. "A teacher of the people," he replied, grandiloquently. A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 23 ** How can I teach when I know nothing ? " she asked. " You have plenty of knowledge, and when it fails I will supply what you may need," he said. " I want you to set forth my doctrines, Leah, to spread my teachings. I want you to interpret my thoughts and ideas to the world. They will live after me, and I shall be famous after I am dead." " But, father," she remarked, gravely, " you have spent your life, you say, in making known your belief ; and if you, so wise, so learned, so good, so earnest, have not succeeded, what can I do ? A girl, young, and untrained, ignorant " He interrupted her eagerly. *' I have succeeded in a meaisure," he said. " But one life is not long enough for the work. You must carry it on for me. The grace and beauty of the woman-teacher will do more even than the fame and skill of the man. Leah, try to appreciate, to understand, the grandeur of the mission I give to you. If I had called you here this morn- ing, and had told you that all the nations of the earth had united in asking you to be their queen, you would be dazed and bewildered with delight — ^you would not know how to wear such a crown. But the mission I have given you makes you a greater and grander woman than the sovereignty of the whole earth could." " In what way ? " she asked. " You have to teach the people — the great masses who are struggling on to freedom and liberty." ** How shall I, a girl, teach the people ? " she asked, gently, " I should think that white-haired men would have little patience with anything that I could say." *' If you have been taught what to say, they will be- lieve it," said Martin Ray. " You will not appear before them as a simple, ignorant, untrained girl — in that case I grant you would be little worthy of credence — you will 84 A BkOKEN WEDDING-RTNV. come before the world as the one woman in it chosen by Heaven to teach the people the blessings of equality and liberty." " But Heaven has not chosen me," she rejoined. ** It has — through me ; and you must hear the voice of Heaven through mine. Yoa must stand before the world a woman trained to teach, a woman whose beauty and grace have been especially given to her to influence the hearts of men ; a woman who deliberately gives her life to the well-being of others — a woman clad in ethereal armor, delicate of tint, full of poetry and eloquence, the embodiment of the Spirit of Liberty.'* A light shone on the girl's face. *» And do you think I could do all this, father ? " ** Think ! I am sure of it ! Did not Joan of Arc, a girl feeble and frail as you, lead vast bodies of troops on to victory ? " " Heaven called her," said the girl, reverently. " Heaven calls you,'* he declared solemnly. " A girl saved the French crown ; a girl-queen saved Hungary from destruction in the olden days ; Judith saved her country; Queen Esther her nation. It seems to me that from time to time women are raised up to save a great people frora destruction. You, my daughter, are one of these.'* She grew pale, and trembled under the weight of his words. He took her hands in his, and looked at them lovingly. If he were a false pretender himself, he did not mean her to be one, and he knew that nothing succeeds like truth and earnestness. " These are little hands," he said, ** to hold the great, beating, bleeding heart of the people — little hands to plead and implore, to raise and to beat down. But you must do it, Leah. I see the grand spirit of noble women sweeping over you. Be a modern Judith, and slay the monster Eoyalty.*' A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 25 She shrunk back, pale and trembling, at these words. *' I can slay nothing," she said. But he did not seem to hear her. He was looking at her, trying to weigh the effect of her graceful young loveli- ness on the hearts of men. " Leah," he said slowly, " you will do better than I havs done. You will make a fortune." A flame, almost of fire, spread over her beautiful face. " Make a what, father — a fortune ? I thought you gave up everything to the people you taught — not took from them." " Certainly," he answered hastily. " But there must be funds provided for the organization of such a grand movement as ours. Nothing in this very prosaic world can be done without money, Leah. One way of raising money is by giving these lectures. They serve two purposes — they find the means to enable us to carry on the war, and they teach the people." The girl's face fell and the light died out of it. " I would rather earn money in some other way," she said. He interrupted her eagerly, — " The earning of money is the least part of it, Leah ; do you not see ? It is true we must have money, but the teaching of the people is the principal thing." " Tell me what they want to be taught," she requested. " To hate, first of all, all existing institutions. They must be taught to hate imperialism, royalty, the aristocracy, and the gentry. They must be taught to hate the Sovereign, the Legislature — ^government in every shape and form, ex- cept such as may be in their own hands. They must be taught that the goods of this fair world were never meant to be in the hands of a few. They must be taught that it is a monstrous injustice that one man should own fertile lands, waving woods, broad, deep streams, mines of untold 26 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. wealth underground, while another dies from want of bread. They must be taught, Leah, that no man has a right to make slaves — to torture, to kill, to bind the necks of thousands of his fellow men under an intolerable yoke. The earth was made for man — not for kings." " But," she said, slowly, " men must be ruled, must be governed. It seems to me a little matter whether they are ruled by kings or by such as you. I know little, but I can* not help thinking that if all these barriers and inequalities were swept away by a mighty wave of revolution, the self- same barriers would naturally arise again. All men cannot be equal — industry must outstrip idleness, genius must succeed better than folly, wisdom reign over ignorance. If you could make the minds, hearts, characters, and con- sciences of men equal, then there might be some hope of equality in circumstances." He looked at her angrily. " Do you know," he cried, ** that those are the very arguments of my enemies "i Who has taught them to you ? " " No one," she replied. ** No one has ever spoken to me of such things. I only say what I think." " Then you must speak in that fashion no more, Leah. You must strangle your own ideas. I tell you that they are all wrong. You must apply yourself diligently to study what I may call my side, the people's side, of the question. A woman like you, young and beautiful, ought to sway the masses; you must give your life to it, and discard all wea kness, all nonsense, about — the other side." She looked up at him thoughtfully. She had much to say : she did not in her own simple, girlish mind agree with one word of his agument. Why should she stand up to tell the people not to love their queen ? Only last week every bell in the city had chimed in honor of the queen's birthday, and, listening to them, her eyes had A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 27 grown dim with tears. Who could say one word against the royal and noble lady whose crown was the purity of her life ? How often had her own heart beaten when she heard the loyal voices of the multitude cry, " God save the Queen ! " And she was to teach men to hate this noble lady worthy of all love. As she stood silent, Martin Ray watching every change in her face, she recalled to mind what she had heard of two lectures given lately. One was to a large audience in a crowded city — a lecture on Republicanism — when the lecturer spoke in such tertns of the queen and the royal family that honest men were angered. When he had con- cluded in a fiery outburst of eloquence, amidst a breathless silence one man stood up and cried out. " God save the Queen ! " Instantly the cry was caught up by hundreds of voices ; a reaction set in, where treason and disloyalty had reigned triumphant, loyalty conquered. " God save the Queen ! " resounded through the vast building and through the streets of the great city. The other lecture that crossed her mind was one given in a pretty quiet midland town — given by a lady who was an atheist, and whose mission it was to preach against the Great Creator who had given her life. She used the most brilliant and spe- cious arguments ; she brought forward some ideas that appeared irrefutable ; she concluded her lecture in a deep, dread silence. The hearts of those who had listened were heavy and sad. Suddenly in their midst rose up an old white-haired man. He stood bare-headed, with his face slightly raised. " I believe in God, the Mighty, the Merciful," he said. And those who were present went home that night with firmer faith and clearer hope. She thought of these two events, and her face was full of doubt. " I have no more time just now," said Martin Ray. •* There is a meeting of the delegates at three, and I must ^ 4 BROKEN WEDDING-RING, be present. I will find leisure to teach you, Leah ; and believe me, a grand mission lies before you." But on the face of the girl there was no light of enthusiasm — nothing but XXk^ sUadow Qi doubt and of lear. d SROKEN WBDDING^RINQ^ 29 CHAPTER V. A GLOOMY house in a gloomy street, quite unfitted for the habitation of two beautiful and brilliant girls. Every one who knows Manchester knows Great Divan street. It is thoroughly respectable, quiet, and dull. " The Voice of the People " made his abode here, partly because the house suited his means, and partly because it was near the chief places where his business lay. The residence he had chosen was certainly the dullest in the street. The rooms were small and dark ; there was not even a glimpse of green at the back ; and in the front was a row of houses on which the sun seldom shone. Martin Ray did not suffer much, as he was generally from home ; but to his daughters it was untold misery. They knew and under- stood little of their father's politics ; they thought he was agreat thinker of very unequal fortune. They had enjoyed many of the luxuries of life — now they had to bear privations ; but that time would pass, and brighter days dawn. There was little furniture in the house. Martin Ray's study and bedroom were the two most luxurious apartments. There was a piano in the little parlor — Martin never allowed his daughters to be without that — and here, at the close of a bright May day, the two girls sat quite alone. There was not much sunlight in the room, but what little there was showed the faded carpet, the shabby fur- niture, and the beautiful faces of the girls. Leah, whom her father in his selfishness had designed for so grand a mission, whose life was to be sacrificed to him, was just sixteen ; Hettie, one year younger. Yet there was the 30 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. greatest difference between them. Leah was beautiful, graceful in the very springtide of life, with the promise of a magnificent womanhood. Hettie, though only one year younger, seemed still a child. She was tall, slight, and un- formed. Her face was beautiful, too, and gave promise of even greater loveliness ; but, although like in feature, it differed greatly in expression from that of Leah. Hettie had hair of pale bright gold, that was like an aureole round her head ; she had eyes blue as heaven, large, bright, and lustrous, with hidden depths seen by no one yet. The chief expression of Leah's face was of pride ; it did not lack beauty, but it certainly lacked tenderness ; while the chief loveliness of Hettie's face lay in its softness. The one year made a wonderful difference between these two girls. No one would have treated Leah as a child or Hettie as a woman. The two sisters had the deepest love for each other. They had preserved two traditions in their lives untouched ; one was loving, sorrow- ful memory of their mother — the other, belief in their father. Of late this latter trait was just a little less observable. On one or two occasions their faith had been somewhat tried ; but they had been loyal — they had said no word to each other. On this May evening they had been trying to amuse themselves. The house was dull, but they could not leave it ; the lovely sunshine lay all around, but they could not go out to see it. They had been singing, but their fresh young voice* had died away, and over them crept the weari- ness of restless discontent. " O, Leah, how dull this it ! " cried Hettie, at last. " My father said yesterday that we ought to be proud to be the daughters of a patriot. If all patriots' daughters are dull as we are, I am sorry for them." Leah went to her, and threw her arms round her sister's neck ; she laid her dark head against the golden one, and A BROKTEN WEDDING-RING. 3x the two young faces close together formed a pretty picture^ " It is dull, Hettie," she said, " but I am not dull. I am trembling with excitement. I could not decide whether I should tell you or not. They say are only a child, Hettie, but in your sweet, gentle fashion, you are more of a woman than I am." Hettie laughed. *' Why do you say that, Leah .? " " It is quite true. You aire not so impulsive as I am, Hettie ; you are not so proud. I am proud, and I lack that gentle consideration for others which you never lose. You are wiser and more thoughtful than I am." " I am not so beautiful or so noble, Leah," she cried. " What is it you have been thinking about telling me ? " " All that my father said to me. I am so miserable about it. Hettie, when I look into my own heart, I am not quite sure if I believe all that he teaches ; " and the two sisters exchanged a fearful, timid glance. It was high treason, indeed, not to believe in him. Hettie made no answer ; she did not know or under- stand exactly what her father did teach. Leah went on, — " God made the world, and He must have framed the laws for it. It seems hard to believe that it has gone wrong all the time, until our father began to set it right." " It does seem strange," agreed Hettie. " And now," continued Leah, " he says that I must learn to take his place. I am such a young girl, and I know so little. He has frightened me. He wants me to be a modern Judith, he says ; he wants me to stand apart from the world of women. He wants to teach me to lecture — think of it, Hettie, to lecture. It seems to me that I know less than the birds of the air. I wish," she added, with a deep sigh, " that I had the freedom of a bird. I should fly away, Hettie." "Papa wants you to lecture, Leah," said Hettie— 32 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, "what a strange thing! But there are woman doctors preachers, and lecturers these days." " But I am only a girl of sixteen 1 " exclaimed Leah. " He will not want you to begin yet ; he means far on in the future, when you grow old and wise Leah." ** No ; he means now, at once, in a year's time, while I am young, and, Hettie, he says I must give my life to it — my whole life," and the beautiful face dropped wearily on the loving one beneath. The blue eyes opened widely, appalled at this idea. " What would you like best to do with your life Leah ? " asked Hettie. " Tell me ; I should like to know." " I should like," said the girl, with a gleam of passion in her dark eyes, " first of all, to love some one with all my heart — some one, of course, who would love me. I wish for many things, but love is first, greatest, and best. Then I should like to be rich — to have a beautiful country-house, with roses growing all around it I I love roses so much. I should like beautiful dresses, jewels, horses and ser- vants " "Just in fact, what other girls desire," interrupted Hettie. " You are like all the rest ; you do not want a mission." "No, I do not, indeed. I think I should dislike what my father calls a mission. I do not understand him ; why do he and all his friends hate rich and noble people so much t " " Perhaps," replied Hettie, wisely, " because they have neither rank nor money themselves ; " and then she looked somewhat shocked at her own words and hastened to cover them. ** Even, if we cannot understand what my father teaches, we know it must be right, Leah. There must be reasons, and good ones, too, for his hatred." " But why should he want a republic instead of our present constitution?" asked Leah. "Why should he A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 33 want to take all the large estates from the men who own them, and divide them among others ? Poor as our furni ture is, would he like to divide that among men poorer than himself ? I know he would not." " He is a patriot, Leah," urged the younger sister, to whom Leah's remarks sounded like treason. " Yes, I know the dictionary says that a patriot is a man who loves and serves his country. But one who loves his country would surely never care to see it destroyed by civil war ; and what but civil war would ensue if they tried to put aside our present form of government and set up a republic ? My instincts are all against it, Hettie." " My father must know best," said the younger girl, " Perhaps kings and queens and rich people do great wrongs of which we know nothing ; and, if that be the case, my father is right to preach against them. He must be right," she added, after musing for some short time, " he is so wise and good." Tears stood in Leah's dark eyes. *' I know what he wants, Hettie," she said ; " he wants a daughter like one of those girls of whom you read in novels — ' an inspired sibyl.' Now I do not feel at all like a sibyl. I cannot understand talking of people in the mass," she continued ; " to me the people are all individuals, and each one can best teach and train himself. My father says that he has given his life to the people. Who are they t What have they done for him ? He says I must give my lif? to them. What are they to me — the people ? Why should not I have my life to do as I like with, Hettie ? What are the people to me ? " " You would like to love some one very much," said Hettie, "and to marry — ^to be rich and fashionable — would you not, Leah ? " The beautiful face brightened. " Yes, that I should. That is a mission far more to 34 ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING, my taste than the one my father gives me. I wonder," she continued thoughtfully, " if it is possible to be born with what my father calls conservative instincts. If so, I have them. All my ideas and instincts and feelings are opposed to my father's. I have never said that much, before, Het- tie, and I am half frightened at saying it now. If I am to have a mission at all, or to learn to lecture, it will not be as he says, but quite in another fashion. Supposing that I were old enough and wise enough to teach others, I would teach them, while they resented tyranny, to love peace, order, content ; to learn obedience to proper authority, not rebellion and discontent. What would my father say to that, Hettie ? " The blue eyes sought the dark ones. " Why, Leah," cried the child, " how is it that life has suddenly changed into a wonderful puzzle } I never thought of these things before." *' Nor did I," said Leah. " But it seems to me that for the future I shall think of nothing else." The sun set and the moon rose over two bewildered heads that turned restlessly even in sleep, 4 BHQKEN WEDDiNG*RINQ^ ^ CHAPTER VI. Even when Leah Ray was not under the spell of her father's teaching she had the same shrinking, the same feehng of horror that a sensitive child has of the darkness. Her father and his friends spoke of history ; they talked of the rights of the people ; they approved of secret societies : they saw nothing wrong in Fenianism, in Nihilism, or any c^her " ism " which displaced authority and gave power in- to the hands of the mob. Martin Ray had spoken of his plans to his confederates. They all agreed with him. It was a novelty to have a beautiful young girl to lecture for them, one on whose lips the very honey of eloquence lingered. She was brought into her father's study where several of his most intimate friends assembled. It was a trying ordeal for so young a girl ; one less sensible would have been flattered into compliance with their wishes. Leah shuddered with dread. They were grim-looking men, with determined faces ; in many instances with them " history " meant murder, and the " rights of the people " assassination. She could not understand half that passed. Her father's friends flattered her, and told her that she would have greater and wider influence than a queen, and that she would live in the hearts and memories of the peo- ple forever. But she was frightened. She had heard strange doctrines and strange words. More than one man cried " Hush ! " when he saw the girl's pale face ; but Martin Ray said ^hat no one need fear his daughter — she was one of them, and would be stanch until death. So they spoke freely before her, and she, pale, proud, and reserved, wondered that they did not 36 ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING, see the difference between what she was and what they wanted. There was no nobility in their aims, no loftiness of purpose. The girl's heart grew sick and faint as she lis- tened, but her pale proud face gave no indication of her thoughts. " I may soon die," said Martin Ray, as he laid his hand upon his daughter's beautiful head, " and I have spent my life for the people ; but my spirit will live in this girl, who has received my doctrines from my own lips, and who will add the splendor of her own genius to my experience. I may live however, to see my daughter the people's idol — the people's queen." They asked Leah to give them a specimen of her powers. She turned to her father, with an appealing look which he understood. It would have been easier for her to die than to speak before those stern, cold men. " Not yet," said Martin Ray, looking proudly at his daughter. "Considering the magnitude of the interests that will be committed to her charge, it is only right that you should hear her before she makes her first appearance in public. But she has much to learn before then. She is not ready yet." Leah Ray had plenty of spirit — she mherited it from the Hattons ; but with all her courage, she dared not tell her father what was in her heart. She had been indiffer- ent at first as to what she had to do ; now she hated and loathed it. When, after midnight, her father gave her permission to leave the conclave, she went to Hettie to seek comfort and consolation. " I can never attempt it, my darling I " she sobbed. " O, Hettie ! what must I do ? I hate it all so. What shall I do ? My father will be so angry when I tell him.' Her sister looked at her in helpless compassion. A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 37 «* It seems almost a pity that you are so beautiful and so gifted, Leah," said Hettie. Leah stood by the window, her face raised to the sky, where the golden stars were shining. " Do you remember Hettie," she said, " how the three Hebrews prayed in the fiery furnace. I am in a furnace of fire now. I stand between my own hatred of what my father wants me to do and my father's anger if I do not do it. Who will deliver me from it ? Who will take pity on me ? I am so helpless. I have no friend. O, Hettie, Hettie ! I feel I must pray to Heaven to save me from this furnace of fire ! " " My darling Leah, do not cry," returned Hettie. " If you tell our father that you do not like the plans that he has laid down for you, he will not force you to follow them." But Leah had had a revelation of her father's charac- acter that evening which had opened her eyes. She knew that he would not spare her — that he would force her to com- ply with his wishes ; and, if she refused, she had a dim idea that he would make her suffer. " I wish mamma had lived, Hettie," she said; '* she would have taken care of us. She would never have allowed father to force me to do anything against my will. We should have been like other girls then, which we are not now." ** Still, Leah, we are the daughters of a patriot," re- marked loyal Hettie ; and Leah turmed away with a hope- less sickness at her heart. No sleep came to her that night. She hated the men whom she had seen, and who persisted in flattering and praising her. She detested their opinions and political feel- ings ; she loathed the idea of having to meet them again and again. If some one would but rescue her 1 If some* 38 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING* thing would only happen to save her from the terrible fu- ture that her father had mapped out for her ! " She looked the next morning from the window of her bedroom. There were people hurrying to and fro ; the tall chimneys were smoking, showing that work was going on . there was the distant murmur and roar of the city ; she saw men and women with eager faces, who were evidently bent on business. " The people ! " And what had she to do with them ? She did not even belong to them. What had she in common with those tired-looking, dirty, poorly-dressed men and women who crowded the streets ? Nothing. Why then give her life to them or for them ? She must tell her father that all his plans for her were more than vain. He would be at home in the afternoon ; Hettie would be present, and then she could speak to him plainly on the subject. The af^^ernoon was close, heavy, and dull. Out of doors the atmosphere was oppressive — in the house there was warmth without brightness ; and Leah Ray, with a dull pain at her heart, stood awaiting her father's return — waiting to tell him that she never could and never would become what he wished her to be. " He will be terribly angry," she said to Hettie ; " but I had better die at once than live on in agony, as I should do, Hettie, were I to accede to his plans. While I talk to him, pray that I may be delivered from this furnace of fire." It was late when Martin Ray returned. He was not in the most amiable of moods ; something had gone wrong among the delegates, and he was ruffled and angered. " Give me my dinner," he said, brusquely ; and the two girls hastened to serve him. *' Mind," he added, half fiercely, to his eldest daughter — " mind that you study well to-day. I must give you a lesson this evening ; last night you did not seem so willing as I should like to have seen A BROKEN- WEDDING'RING. ^g you. Understand that there is to be no shirking; you must do what I wish." " Leah," said Hettie, trembling, " do not speak to him to-night — he is angry, you see ; wait until to-morrow." *' No; I could not rest another hour," her sister replied. She might not be a modern Judith, but she was resolute, firm and determined. " The Voice of the People " had dined well ; he had taken up the only consolation that never failed him — his newspaper ; and Leah, looking paler and more determined than she had ever looked before, went up to him. At that very moment a carriage rolled up the street and stopped at their door ; then came a loud peal at the bell, which the little drudge of the house, with a very black face and hands, hastened to answer. They heard a loud, per- emptory voice asking if Martin Ray was at home, and the girl's answer, " Yes." " Give him this," said the same voice, " and tell him that I am waiting — waiting, you understand." *' Who can this be ? " observed Martin with a wonder- ing look at his daughters. The little maid solved the mys- tery by appearing with a card. " He says he's waiting," she half whispered, with a nod of her head towards the door. Martin Ray took up the card and read : " General Sir Arthur Hatton, K. C. B." " Sir Arthur Hatton ? " he murmured. " I know no such name. Hatton ? " Then memory suddenly awaken- ed. Was not Doris Hatton the name of the only woman he had ever loved, and who had died because he was not what she believed him to be ? Sir Arthur Hatton ? It must be some relative of hers, and of the proud father who had died without forgiving his only daughter for marrying him. Then he remembered that his wife had spoken more than once of a soldier-brother away in India. " Ask the gentle- 40 ^ BROKEN' WEDDmC-RTNG, man to walk in," he said to the servant ; and the next mitt* ute General Sir Arthur Hatton was ushered in. At sight of the two beautiful faces he uncovered his head and bowed low. " Are you Martin Ray, demagogue and agitator ? " he asked. " I am Martin Ray," replied the master of the house. " I am General Hatton, the brother of the unfortunate Jady whom you stole from her home." " What is your business with me ? " asked Martin Ray. " I want the satisfaction, first of all, of speaking my mind to you ; and, secondly, I wish to know what has be- come of my sister's children." Hatred flamed in both faces as the two men looked at each other ; hatred flashed from their eyes. ** I have not asked you to my house," said Martin Ray; •' nor do I wish to see you here, State your business quickly, and begone.** 4 BROKEN WEDDIN(r'JiW(i% CHAPTER VTI. It was an impressive scene. The fine, tall figure of the officer was drawn to its full height, his face was ex- pressive of intense scorn. Martin Ray seemed to shrink into insignificance before him, and yet he faced him with a desperate kind of courage. The two girls had drawn close together, as though seeking protection from each other. The wan sunlight lay in yellow bars along the floor. " I have not come hither," said General Hatton, " to bandy words with you — to seek a quarrel with you. You are one with whom no gentleman could quarrel. I have a mes- sage from the dead, and I wish to deliver it. Show me my sister's children." " They are here," said Martin Ray, not without a cer* tain amount of dignity — **the good children of a good mother." General Hatton waved his hand with a gesture of scorn. No word about his dead sister could he tolerate from the lips of the man whom he thought utterly vile and base. He went to the girls, who stood, with fear on their faces, hand in hand. The composed, well-bred manner, the low bow, and the courteous bearing were something novel to them. He looked into each sweet shrinking face. "My sister's children," he said, " have you any word of welcome for me ? I bring a message from your mother." Leah freed her hand from her sister's clasp and held it out to him. He drew her to him and kissed the pale young face. She found that he was trembling with agita- tion and emotion. Then he took Hettie in his arms and kissed her also. 4}( A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. " I was quite a young man,'* he said. ** when I left home, and your mother was much younger than I. She was my beloved sister, playmate, and treasure. It was a great grief to me to be obliged to part from her when I went abroad. I remember her face, and in yours I see some trace of it. What word of welcome have you for me ? " Impulsive Leah threw her arms around him and raised her face to his. " Welcome home, uncle," she said. " What is your name, dear child ? " he asked. " Leah," she replied. ** Leah ! It is a beautiful, sorrowful name. Why did your mother give it to you ? Did she foresee a shadow in ycvar life ? You look like Leah ; no other name would siiit you. And your age ? " *' I shall soon be seventeen," she replied with uncon- scious pride in her voice. "And you?" he continued, turning to the younger sister. " I am Hettie," she said, " and I am nearly sixteen." *' Heaven bless you, my dear ! You have a sweet face of your own. Your mother bade me — here is the letter — you can read it — she bade me, when I returned home, seek you, find you, and save you." " Save us ! " crid Leah. " From what i " " She must have known what she was writing," replied the general. ** She was sweet-tempered, and never com- plained, but she died young, and of no complaint to which men could give a name. She was not happy, and she asked me to save you." Martin Ray stepped forward. " I will not allow you to speak in that fashion," he said. " Their mother loved me, and they love me ; you will never set my children against me " You have kept yourself safe ; but how many men have you slain by your teaching ? You have found men vain and weak, ready to listen to anything which ap- peared to lighten their burdens ; and what have you taught ? Did you ever teach a man to be patient, to rest content with the condition in which Heaven had placed him, to work soberl)*, honestly, and justly ? No. You taught him to long for his neighbor's property, to rebef against rightful authority, to look with envious eyes on all 44 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, those above him, to brood in sullen anger until murder ran riot in his heart. Those are your doctrines." " Whatever they are, I believe in them," said Martin Ray. " Many young men owe their ruin and death to you," continued the general. " You have urged them to rebel ; you have seen them suffer loss, seen them condemned to prison, to exile ; yet you have never paused, nor taken pity, nor spared." ** I have done my duty," declared Martin Ray. ** You are not a fit person to have charge of girls like these. You would sell them heart and soul to further your cause," and Leah shrunk at the words, a sudden pain piercing her heart. " You value their youth, their fresh, sweet grace and beauty, only so far as they will help you and lure men to your belief whom you cannot teach your- self. I declare to Heaven," he continued, passionately, "that I am relieved and grateful to find them as they are! I should not have been surprised had I discovered that you had, even young as they are, tried to make platform orators of them." The random shot went home to the very heart of Mar- tin Ray, and blanched Leah's face with a great fear. This was indeed the furnace of fire from which she had longed to be free. ** My children are my own," said Martin — " to do as i will with." "They are not all your own," rejoined General Hatton, ** A dead hand is stretched out from their mother's grave to save them. They belong to her, dead though she may be, as much as they belong to you. They have no business with you ; you are no fitting guardian for them. Those two girls have good blood in their veins. Their ancestors were loyal ; they gave their lives for the safety and well- bemg ot tlie throne that you are trying to overthrow ; thejf A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 45 lived and died in the service of the royal race that you would destroy." His anger seemed to increase as he went on. " I," he continued, " make no boast. I have served my country and my queen as an honest soldier and a loyal man. What could I have but loathing and contempt for one who is the greatest traitor and the worst foe to the royal house that I serve ? Light and darkness, day and night should meet and embrace, rather than that I should tolerate you." " I do not want your toleration," said Martin Ray ; " in- deed, I have not desired the honor of this visit at all." *' I should not have paid it, but that my sister asked me to save her children. She was dying when she wrote the words, and she knew best from what I had to save them." " There is one thing you must allow me to say ; you have not been in any great hurry to fulfil your sister^s wishes. She has been dead some years ; it must therefore be rather late to save my children, as you choose to ex- press it." A deep flush covered the soldier's face. ** It is true," he said, " that I have been neglectful in this matter ; I reproach myself bitterly for it. When that letter came, I ought to have started for England at once ; but I did not, and other interests drove the subject from my mind. I will make all the amends I can. Armed with my sister's authority, I am here by her wish to save her children from the fate that living with you, an agitator and impostor, must of necessity bring upon them." "My children are my own," repeated Martin Ray with difficulty repressing his passion, " and I shall keep them." "You are unfitted for the charge. Heavens knows how they have fared hitherto ; but you could never teach them to be honorable, industrious or honest. You are a disloyal subject — you have spent some of the best years ol 4.6 A BROKEN WEDDING'RINQ^ your life in prison ; what can you have to do with the traitti ing of innocent young girls ? '* A cry from Leah interrupted him. " Is it true, father ? " she said. " Have you been in prison ? " — while Hettie went up to him silently, and placed her hand in his. In the midst of his shame and exposure one at least of Martin's daughters was faithful to him. "Is it true ? " repeated Leah, in a voice of anguish that smote both men with regret. " I was a political prisoner, Leah," he replied ; " and that is a very different matter from being a common felon. Kings have been political prisoners before now. I am not ashamed of it " — yet his eyes drooped before the wistful imploring gaze of his best-loved child. " I am not ashamed of it, Leah," he repeated. " How is it that we did not know ? " she asked. " Why did you never tell us ? " " There was no need to throw the shadow of a prison across the brightness of your hves," he replied ; and he noticed — he could not help it — that, while one daughter drew closer to him and kissed his hand, the other seemed to shrink further from him. The fatal word " prison " had shocked and terrified her. " I am sorry I said that," interposed the general, hastily. ** I did not know that your imprisonment had been kept secret from your children, or I would not have mentioned it. Your conduct was commendable, Martin Ray. I would withdraw my words if I could. I never anticipated that I should have to express regret to you; but as there is every ground for it, I do so now willingly." *' I care little for it," said Martin Ray ; but he winced as he saw the strange, wistful pain on Leah's face. " They were kept in ignorance at the time, but in a few year?^ lyhen they had become old enough to know and understand A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 4^ nAat political persecution means, I should, perhaps, have toia them." " I can only repeat that I am sorry; I had not meant to betray any secret," said the general, stiffly. " Let me say what I have to say. Children, listen to me, and, as you listen, make your choice. Remember this, that I come to you as a messenger from the dead," Looking into the brave, kindly face, Leah wondered to herself if the answer to her many prayers was come — if he had been sent to save her from a life she had dreaded. " 1 come," said the general, proudly, " to make a pro- position ; how it will be received I know not. I make it in my dead sister's name. I abhor and detest the prin- ciples and teachings of Martin Ray ; I hold them in such supreme contempt that I can never after this day have any communication whatever with him. . I would rather cut off my right hand than let it touch his. But his children are the children of my dead sister, and I am here to make them an offer. I am a rich man ; I have been married* and my wife, in dying, left me a large fortune ; besides which, all that I have undertaken has prospered. I have no children, no relatives save my two nieces, and conse- quently no one to succeed to my wealth. I shall never marry again; and I propose, in accordance with my sister's wishes, to adopt Leah and Hettie, and treat them as daughters of my own. I will educate them, find a proper chaperone for them, introduce them to their proper sphere^ and I will divide my money equally between them." There was dead silence in the room. Martin Ray grew pale. The girls looked startled and surprised. The silence was painful until the general broke it himself. " I need hardly say what a different life this will be for them. With large fortunes, and the name of Hatton, they may aspire to any position, they may marry as they will. They will be equal to any ladies in the land. A brilliant 48 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. future lies before them — wealth, gayety, pleasure, all that is most bright and beautiful. But I will do this only on one condition ; and it is to this condition that I beg you to give your best attention. I can hold no communication with Martin Ray. A soldier of the queen and a preacher of sedition cannot join hands. If I adopt these children and make them my own, they must give up for ever all communication with the man who is their father; they must give up his name and take mine ; they must cease to hold any intercourse with him, unless he is ill or dying. I can accept no half measures — it must be all or nothing." " It is inhuman," cried Martin Ray. " It is natural," said the general. " Loyalty and treason can never go hand in hand. Give my sister's children to me, and I will make them my own ; but I will never share the charge of them with you." There was silence again, during which one could hear the labored breathing of Martin Ray. " That is like an aristocrat," he said. " Remorselessly you ride roughshod over the feelings of those whom you choose to consider as beneath you. Why should you seek to take my children from me ? Why should you offer to bribe them with money and pleasure ? Do you call that honorable ? An aristocrat's notion of honor — the bribing of children to leave their father! Their mother, sweet soul, loved me until she died ; they will do the same. Offer what you will, my children will not desert me. I dare you — I defy you ! Double the gold that you offer and a name twice as noble as the one you bear will not take them from me." "They shall speak for themselves," returned the general. " It is a decision for life, not for a short time only. The fairest way is to leave it to them to make their choice." "I am not afraid," said Martin Ray j but he wondered A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 49 at the strange look on Leah's face. ''^I appeal to my children ; they have loved, obeyed, honored me ; will they forsake me now for a stranger who confesses that he de* tests me ? " " I make no appeal," put in the general ; " I leave it to them. If they will come to me, they shall be as children of my own; but they must give up all claim to you. I own that it is a momentous choice, and one most difficult to make." Again the painful silence fell over them, unbroken this time by any sound. The girls stood with white faces, look- ing from one man to the other. " My children," said Martin Ray, " I leave it to you.'* He turned away his head, too proud at that moment to let the expression of his face be seen. " And I,'* said General Hatton, looking at each of his nieces, " leave it to you also. My dead sister's children, do as you will ; but do not forget your mother's words.'* With a cry, the girls clasped their arms around each other. In that moment they felt quite alone in the world. How v;ere they to make such a choice ? To Leah's mind recurred the memory of her fervent prayers for some one who would deliver her from her " furnace of fire." She looked into the blue eyes of her sister. " It is what I prayed for," she whispered. Then slowly, as the waters of a great sea divide, the two girls separated, sadly, mournfully, looking back with lingering regret, yet never faltering ; and Leah, the child whom Martin Ray had loved, of whom he had been so un- utterably proud, whom he had hoped to see hi§ political successor, beautiful dark-eyed Leah, went to her uncle and aid her hand upon his. " I prayed to Heaven for deliverance,'* she said, " and you have brought it. I accept your ofier,*' go ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING. "With a bitter cry, Martin Ray turned to her. There was dignity in the sorrow of his voice and face. *' You make your choice — deliberately and — ^wilfully, Leah?" " I make it of my own free will, father. I would have chosen death rather than the life you mapped out for me." Loving arms were placed around his neck ; a loving, beautiful face was laid against his. " I will never leave you, father," said Hettie. " I will give my life to you." So for some minutes they stood — the general with his arm thrown round Leah, as though from that moment he wQuld shield her from all harm, and from every one ; Hftttie clasping her father's neck, her face wet with tears. **I accept your offer, uncle," said Leah, in a calm, clear voice ; " and I shall always believe that Heaven seat you to me." " I will never leave you, father ! " cried Hettie. " My love shall make up to you for the loss of Leah's ! " *' I do not say that I shall cease to love my father — you have no right to imply such a thing, Hettie — but I cannot refuse to take advantage of my uncle's kindness ! " " I will never leave you, father darling ! " cried the younger girl. "The more they say against you, the more I will love you. I do not believe any of the accusations against you, and I love you with all my heart." It was beautiful to see the light in her face, the love in her eyes, the childish passion of wounded pride with which she clung to him, the tenderness with which the little white hand stroked and caressed him. " I woiild not leave you, dear," she repeated, " if he would make me queen of the whole world. I believe all that you believe. I will never be false to you. Nothing shall ever take me from you.'^ He was a politician — he had never considered himself a religious man — indeed his ideas on religion were worse A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. ^I and lower than his ideas on politics ; yet he bowed his face on the golden head for some few minutes, and words not often on his lips came from them. Then he turned to the other two. " You hear," he said ; " there is one faithful to me. You may take the other. I — I give her to you ! '* " I could never lead the life you want me to lead, father — never," remarked Leah ; " and how would you have borne with me had I refused ? Do not think that my heart is not rent." " You need say no more ! " cried Martin Ray "Have we not heard how sharper than a serpent's tooth \'c is to have a thankless child ? I have no son, and I rested my pride, my hopes, my ambition on you ; and you have heart- lessly deserted me for a stranger who despises me." *' I cannot believe as you believe, father, or think as you think. We must have parted sooner or later ; I could not have borne my lot, now that I am beginning to under* stand you." Hettie*s arms clasped him even more tightly. *' Never mind, father. I will make it all up to you. I will die to save you from pain. She will tire soon, and come back to you." " Never ! " he cried, his face aflarue with anger. " Stand away from me, Hettie ! Let me see the child so ready to leave me and give up the love of years at the bidding of a stranger ! " Hettie drew back, and at that moment she knew in her heart that his best and dearest love had been given to the daughter who had deserted him. ** Let me look at her ! " he cried. " She has deserted me and gone over to my enemies ! " *' \ have simply given up a life which has never been tolerable to me, and which grows more unbearable every ^2 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, day. I shall love you always, father ; but I shall iievef share your principles." His face paled with anger. *' You speak bravely enough now that you know your words give me no concern. I am justly punished, for in my blindness I confess that I loved you best. You must forgive me, Hettie. I shall love but one daughter now.'* *' I have nothing to forgive ; it was natural that you should love Leah best. Do not be cngry with her. She told me she did not care about the life you wanted her to lead. Leah loves everything beautiful, and she wants to be loved. She does not care for lectures and politics." The simple words almost made the general smile ; but there was no smile on the lips of 'Martin Ray, as he turned to his elder child. *' Look at me," he said, " and tell me to my face that you are going to leave me." *' It is the life I leave, not you," she replied. " Listen to me, Leah. If you leave me now, you shall never, so help me Heaven, look upon my face again ! You shall go from my house, my heart, my life, never to re-enter them. You shall cease even to be known by my name ; and your sister shall never see or speak to you again. Do you understand all that you are giving up ? " She was pale as a white lily. " I can bear my coming life better than the other, father, I could never follow the career that you have traced for me. It is better that I should go." " Oh, Leah, you must not leave him ! You cannot desert me ! I shall die if you go from me and leave me here alone ! " " Come with me, Hettie ; if it is no life for me, it is none for you. Come with me.'* ''Noj I will never leave my father unless I diet* A BROKEN WEDDING' RING. 53 sobbed the girl. *'How can you act so, Leah? Your own father ! '* "You forget," interrupted Leah, "that it is mothe^ who has sent for me." " Her heart is hardened ! " cried Martin Ray. " Say no more to her, Hettie. She can leave us both without tears. We must learn to live without her. She is a thank- less child, and you are a loving one. Come to my heart, Hettie ; your home shall be there." But as her golden head lay upon his breast, amid her sobs and tears, she heard the name of Leah as often as she heard her own. " There is no need to prolong this painful scene," said General Hatton, after a short silence. " My dear Leah, for the trust and confidence you have shown me I thank you. You shall see that it is well placed. I take you from what I believe to be most unworthy hands, and adopt you as my own daughter. I would take your sister, but she declines to come. If in the future she should change hei mind, I shall none the less be still her friend." " I thank you," said a gentle voice, full of tears ; " but I shall never leave my father. It does not matter who he is, or what any one thinks of him, he is, my father, and I will be faithful to him." " I say nothing but this," replied the general ; " If ever you want a friend come to me." " She will never want one while I live ! " cried Martin Ray. " Oh, Leah, child of my heart, how little did I dream that you would become one of those against whom I have preached and taught my life long ! That I should have a daughter among the wealthy and the aristocracy of the land is to me a shame and disgrace. There is yet time to make your final decision, Leah. I will believe that you were over-tempted by the man who has bribed you ; I will believe that you repent of your momentary desertion \ i 54 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. will believe anything and everything if you will only com© back to me, Leah, child of my heart ! " General Hatton stood by and said nothing. He would not influence the girl ; her heart should decide. He could not help thinking what a beautiful picture of pathetic deter- mination she made, standing with her eyes wistfully seek- ing her father's face, her hands clasped. " I could never be what you want me to be, father,'* she said ; " and you would dislike me, hate me, when I refused. It is better that I should accept my uncle's offer." " You refuse then, decidedly, once and forever, Leah, to carry out my wishes ? " " I do refuse," she replied, calmly. " I could not act as you wish. I do not believe in that which you would have me teach." " Say no more," he cried, holding up his hand as though he would ward off a blow — *' no more ! I have heard from your own lips your decision. You choose to make your home with this stranger — for stranger he is, no matter how closely he may be related to you — ^you would rather live with him than with me ? " " It is not my fault," she said humbly. " You would have made my life intolerable to me." " You renounce me — ^give me up entirely for him .? " continued Martin. " You cast me out of your life, and choose to cling to him ? Do not be afraid to speak out plainly." ** I am not afraid,'* she replied, calmly. " I do prefer to go to my mother's brother." " Well and good," said Martin Ray, with a white face — ^^ well and good. You have made your choice ; you must abide by it. Nothing can ever alter it in this world. Some fathers would have cursed you. I will not ; but 1 tell you, as much in sorrow as in anger, that punishment A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. l^ will fall upon you. I may not have been perhaps the best of fathers, but I am your father, and to give up my love and protection for that of another is, I say, a sin that cries to Heaven for vengeance. You hear me, Leah ? I say it to warn you. The time will come when, with unutterable regret, you will remember this hour and this deed. The time will come when the anger of Heaven will fall upon you — when, in your turn, your heart will be torn with anguish, and you will say to yourself : * This is the punish- ment that my father prophesied for me.' I do not curse you, Leah ; I leave you to the Power that never fails to punish or reward." " Do not be so angry with her, father," said a loving voice ; and again Hettie's arms clung to him tenderly. The general, seeing that Leah had hardly strength to stand, drew her nearer to him. " There is one thing I must do before you go," said Martin Ray. ** I will not say that I have studied my Bible much ; but I have made a family register of it." He unclasped Hettie's arms, and placed her in a chair, then he went to the bookshelf, took from it a large Bible, opened it, and laid it upon the table before the general. There was about his action that dignity that comes 'from great sorrow. " Look ! " he said, pointing with his finger. " There is the entry of my marriage with Doris Hatton. Here is the birth of my first and best-beloved child Leah, more than sixteen years ago. Here is the birth of Hettie, fifteen years ago. Now see. My eldest child is dead to me ; she died to-day. I have but one daughter living." He took a pen and dipped it in ink, and through the name of Leah Ray he drew a thick black line with steady fingers. He wrote opposite to it, " Dead to me." Then he closed the book, and replaced it on the shelf. " There is no more to be either said or done," he con- g6 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. tinued. "You have taken my child from me, General Hatton. She goes readily — let her go. I do not mean to complain ; but, when she passes over the threshold of the house, she passes over my heart." General Hatton bent down, and looked into the beauti' ful face so white and still. " Leah," he said, gently, " I would not over-persuade you — and the choice is for life. Will you take time to think over it ? " ** No," she answered, faintly. " I could not live the life that is proposed for me. I hate it. I prayed to Heaven to send me deliverance. I cannot refuse it now that it has come." " You need not do so," said the general. " I wish your sister would come too." But Hettie clung to her father. After a few moments Martin raised his hands. " I am no prophet," he said ; " but I believe in the nat- ural order and the natural fitness of things. I predict that over the head of the child who has forsaken me dark clouds will gather ; I predict for her a sad life in the midst of wealth, luxury, and gayety. For the daughter whose faithful heart and tender love are my consolation I pre- dict happiness in life and in death. May Heaven confirm what I say ! " " We will have a proper understanding," said Sir Arthur Hatton. " I am not unreasonable, though I frankly con- fess I dislike everything about you — ^your name, your char- acter, your life, and its aims. I am implacable in my re- sentment against you for having stolen my sister and blighted her life, and I will never willingly hold any com- munication with you — never. You and I will be strangers ; your children will be strangers, if one goes with me and one remains with you — strangers always. I shall require that they neither write nor speak to each other, except it A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 57 Is a case of life and death. But, if you are ill or dying^ and send for Leah, she shall come. If Hettie be dying, or ill, and send for her, she shall come." " Neither in life nor in death shall we meet again," de- clared Martin Ray. *' We shall live our lives ; they will be far apart from hers. To me she no longer exists. I have touched her hand, kissed her face, spoken to her for the last time. She lies in her coffin now to me, and I draw the sheet over her face — she is dead ! Oh, Hettie, with your mother's eyes, comfort me ! " Leah raised her white face to Sir Arthur^s. " This is dreadful," she said ; " it is killing me. But I cannot follow out my father's wishes. Take me away." Then the two sisters looked at each other. In each face was an unspoken longing. " No," said Martha Ray, sternly, "you shall not touch her, Hettie I She has cast i;s off ; let her go her own way." " Just once," pleaded Hettie. " Let me kiss her once, father. We are own sisters, you know ; we have loved each other so dearly. Oh, Leah, stay with us, darling ; do not go ! " " No, not once or ever ! " cried Martin Ray, raising his hand. " You shall not kiss her ! You shall not even say good-by to her ! Let her leave us in silence — the silence of death." And Hettie, whose loving heart was almost broken, fell upon her knees, hiding her face in her hands, and sobbing with bitter tears and cries. She dared not raise her head to take a last look at the face she loved so well. The general drew Leah near to the door. " Good-by, father," she said. " I am not cold, unlov- ing, or heartless ; but I coulcknot lead the life you selected for me. I would rather have died. 1 will come back i| you want me or send for me," 58 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. She moved towards him, as though she would fain have kissed his hands or his face ; bnt he turned from her with a gesture of angry contempt. " Good-by, Hettie," she said, in a broken voice. ** Nothing can part us for long ; nothing can change our affection for each other; time, patience, and love will bring us together again. If you want me, send, and I will come." It was a pitiful scene — one girl kneeling in wild distress on the ground, the other pale, trembling, half hesitating, moving slowly to the door. Suddenly Leah threw up her arms ivith a bitter cry. " It is worse than death ! " she said. " O uncle ! help me ! " " I will do all I can to make you happy, Leah," he re^ plied. He did not know how to comfort her. It was he who, in seeking to rescue her from a life she hated, had brought these troubles upon her. Nature was more kind ; for, when Sir Arthur beckoned his man-servant to help him, Leah had lost all consciousness, and so left her father's hou6c, almubt ub Uc hiia t>aici iu tiie stillness of death. 4 BROKEN WEDDING-RZNQ^ ^ CHAPTER VIII. •* She is gone/' said Martin Ray, hoarsely, as the sound of the carriage-wheels reached them. " She is gone. Met- tle, from our home and life forever. She is dead to us." And the man whose ends and aims in life were all sel- fish, who would have trampled over hundreds of human beings to attain the object he sought, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed aloud: The sobs aroused Hettie, who in her whole life never remembered to have seen her father weep — startled her into forgetting her own grief, for a time, to console him. She went to him, and knelt down by his side. *' I will love you doubly, dearest," she said, " to make up for it. I will be two daughters in one to you." He stood up, gray, worn, and haggard, a prematurely ofd man. " You are the best of daughters,Hettie," he said, slowly •, ** but she — well, you see, she was more than a daughter to me. I wanted to live again in her. You are all that is sweet, kind, and gentle ; but she had fire and passion, she had power and eloquence, she would have been a light in the darkness. I shall never be the same man again, Hettie. I did not know that I could be so human. I did not know that I was capable of valuing so highly the love of a slip of a girl. I think better of myself for my own grief, Hettie." She whispered to him, after the manner of loving daughters, that he was perfect, that no man could be better ; and unconsciously the gentle flattery soothed him. " How strange," said Hettie, " for all this to occur ia ^O ^ BROKEN WEDDING'RINO. one day I This morning how little we knew of what was about to happen ! This morning I hardly remembered that mamma had a brother. She talked to us about hira sometimes, but I had nearly forgotten him. Now — " " Ah, now," sighed Martin Ray, spreading out his hands in speechless distress — " now all is changed ! '* Hettie looked up at him with wistful eyes. "Father," she asked, gently, "was my mother really an aristocrat ? " " Good Heaven, no, Hettie I Certainly not. She was a lady; she came from a very ancient and honorable family." " That is something to be proud of, is it not ? " she asked, innocently. And Martin Ray glared at her with angry eyes. He could not say " No," and he would not say " Yes." It seemed to him that these children of his, so long docile and blind in their belief, were suddenly rising up against him. " Why do you hate my mother^s brother, father ? Why could you not be friends with him ? " she persisted. - " It would have been so pleasant to have an uncle. Why could you not be friends ? " " Why were not Napoleon and Wellington friends ? " he asked pompously. " Why are the hare and the. hounds, the dove and the hawk, not friends ? We are enemies naturally, as are they." " It seems so strange," said the girl, who was still a child. " How angry his face was, and how stern his voice ! He thought you had been cruel to my mother. Why did you not tell him it was not so ? " Martin Ray paced up and down the little room ; the sickly yellow light from the setting sun still lay upon the floor — the door through which his daughter had passed out toi evermore was still open. Hot anger was rising in his A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 6 1 lieart. Up to the present he had been mastered and dis- tressed by surprise and pain ; now the wonder was past, the pain deepened, and he grew wrathful. What right had this man, his dead wife's brother, to come and take his child from him ? If it had been Hettie, it would have been more bearable — for he was by no means averse to money — but Leah, bright, beautiful, proud Leah, who was to have crowned the name of Ray with fame — it was worse than parting with his life's blood to lose her. Angry passion . surged in his heart against the man who had taken her. He could not endure the simple, innocent prattle of the child who had been faithful to him. He turned to her with a darkening face that almost frightened her. "Hettie," he said, "you are too young to know all that a vow imports ; but you understand its solemnity ? " With beautiful wondering eyes she answered " Yes." " You must register a vow to me," he said. " I will not hear that man's name again. I forbid you to mention it. Swear to me that neither his name nor that of the girl he has taken with him shall ever pass your lips. Swear it, Hettie." Pale and trembling, the girl looked at him. " I am afraid," she said. " I have never sworn in all my life. Let me promise that I will do as you wish, father ; that will meet the case as well. I shall keep my word." "No, you must swear it, Hettie. For the rest of my life I shall trust no one — neither man, woman, nor child ; every promise made to me shall be bound by an oath. You need not tremble, child ; many persons take oaths." " But if I break it." "That is the very thing," he said. "You hesitate, Hettie, not because you are afraid of an oath, but because in your heart you intend to keep up a correspondence with Leah. If you do so, you will never more be child of mine. If ever I find that by word or deed you have in any way 62 A BROKEN WEDDING-RINO, sought her or held any communication with her, that mo- ment we part, and the curse of an unhappy, disappointed father will rest upon you until you die." " Oh, not that ! Do not say that ! " cried Hettie. ** Then swear what I wish you to swear,and bear in mind always the punishment that will follow if you do not keep your oath. Swear to me that the names of the two in question shall never pass your lips, and that, in no circum- stances will you ever hold any communication with either by word, deed, sign, or letter." She was a timid, frightened, loving child, and she swore as he bade her ; then he was content. " I am going out, Hettie." he said. " While I am away see that everything belonging to my dead daughter is sent from the house. You can give them away, burn, or destroy them ; but they must not be here when I return. After that, our new life will begin." He went away, and Hettie was left to her sorrowful task — to look at the bookshelves and take from them every book bearing the beloved name, to go to the room where only on the previous night they had talked, and wondered, and slept, and remove from it everything that belonged to Leah — to take from the drawers all her neat prettj dresses, to collect all her laces and ribbons, every little or- nament, and pack them together. What tears she shed I What anguish of heart, what sorrow, what unutterable pain she felt ! She cried until she became ill and faint. At last her task was accomplished, and she had every- thing securely packed in one large trunk ; then came the difficulty — what was she to do with it ? She remembered that not far away a girl lived who had been an invalid for many years, and who would doubtless be delighted with the contents. To her Hettie sent the trunk, saying that her sister had departed from home, and had left these things to be given away. And, thus^ when Martin Ray returned^ A BROKEN- WEDDING-RING. 63 and looked inquiringly at Hettie, asking if his commands had been obeyed, she was able to answer " Yes." Then they began the new life ; but oh, the blank, awful horror of it — the gloom, the chill that came over them ! Martin Ray sat moodily smoking his pipe, while Hettie tried to interest herself in her domestic duties. There was no Leah. Ten times an hour Martin Ray turned to look for the beautiful face he had loved so well ; then, with a muttered oath, he told himself that she was dead. Twenty times in an hour Hettie turned with an involuntary cry for Leah, forgetting for one happy moment what had hap- pened, and then she would recall it with something like despair. It was a chill, terrible blank, of which neither spoke, al- though their hearts were filled with the sense of it. The tea-table, with two solitary cups ; the piano, where the beautiful, passionate face would be seen no more — every- thing spoke of her. Then at night came the friends and comrades of Martin Ray, eager to see and hear more of the beautiful girl introduced to them on the preceding evening as one of the brightest coming lights. Few words were spoken between them ; but they all understood in what manner Martin Ray had lost his daughter. There was little outward display of sympathy among these men ; but in each heart hatred of " the aristocrats " burned on that evening hotter than ever. Martin Ray had learned his lesson. He would not have Hettie present at these meetings, as Leah had been. He told her to take her book and go to her room, and ihe poor child obeyed. There and then, for the first time, she seemed to realize what had befallen her. The room fright- ened her by its dreary, cheerless aspect; she had not known before how much of its cheerfulness and brightness was owing to Leah. With passionate love and bitter tears she kissed the pillow on which Leah's head had rested. 64 ^ BROKEN- wedding-ring. She could understand how Leah was willing to leave Iw^ father, but not how she could leave her. " I could not have left Leah," she said to herself. " If the choice had lain between death and leaving Leah, I would have died." She wondered how she should live through all her life without her sister. She grew ill and faint when she thought of the oath she had taken. Even if she met her the next day, she could not speak of her ; she had gone out of her life forever ; and, as she thought of this, no foreshad- owing came to her of the time when she and her sister would cross each other's path in the strangest of fashions. No sleep came to the unhappy child that night. If for a. few moments she forgot herself, she woke with a cry for Leah on her lips. Martin Ray did not remain long in that house. He said nothing, but the chill and desolation of the rooms once brightened by his daughter's beautiful presence were too much for him ; he could not endure the place. She had gone from his life altogether, but he found to his surprise that he could not root her from his heart and thoughts, as he had intended to do. Just then his career was almost ended in Manchester. He had lectured and taught ; he had been the cause of several disturbances, he had longed that the Government would prosecute him and make a martyr of him, but the Government had declined so to dig- nify him. There was really a reason why he should seek •' fresh fields and pastures new." Hettie would of course go with him. When he spoke to her, he found that the idea of leaving Manchester was most pleasant to her. She did not think that anything in life could ever make her happy again, but it would be, at least, some little relief to be away from the place that was haunted by the memory of the sister she would in all prol> ability never see again. THE BROKEN WEDDING RING. 65 So Martin Ray left Manchester. He lived successively in Liverpool, in Sheffield, and in many of the large towns which are centres of manufacturing industry. There his fortunes wavered ; sometimes he was called Martin Ray the patriot, and at others he was sneered at as an agitator. So the years passed, and he saw the beautiful face of his child no more. And the sisters who had lived together, who had loved each other so veil, who had never been parted for an hour, drifted further from each other every day, never to meet until the lines of their lives had crossed again, and the real tragedy of their womanhood haci begun. 66 THE BROKEN WEDDINCr-RINQ, CHAPTER IX. Very few soldiers attain military honors so early as Gen- eral Sir Arthur Hatton, K.C.B. One thing was certain, he was born a military genius, as some men are born poets and others painters. He had been a soldier in heart from his earliest childhood — from the day he first saw a Line regi- ment pass through the streets and heard the band playing ** Rule, Britannia," the sound of which raised a flame in his heart that was never extinguished. *' I shall be a soldier, father ! " he cried out to Amos Hatton. " You shall if you wish it," replied the old lawyer. And from that day the lad's vocation was considered a settled thing. It was his sole delight. He went through the prelimi- naries with honor ; he studied hard ; it was prophesied of him, by those in authority, that he would prove to be a genius, an honor to the service ; and the country, they told him, wanted such men. He was little more than a boy when he obtained a com* mission in the army, and the young ensign started with every prospect in life bright before him. Fortune smiled upon him. Before he had been very long in the service, his regiment, the Queen's Own Ran- gers, was ordered to the Punjaub. He was appointed to some small military command, one that required tact, courage, and skill. In a few years he had made his name famous. When the Queen's Own Rangers went home, he remained, and a post of greater importance was given to him. After a time he distinguished himself still further, and the Government \kr.i> aot slow to reward his services. THE BROKEN WEDDTNG-RING. 67 He was made a general after a brilliant action in which he had shown great personal valor and had saved the troops from a crushing disaster. There was not a man on the field who would not have risked his life for the brave commander who was no carpet knight ; for he did not show others the way to victory, yet shirk all danger himself. His bronzed handsome face and tall figure were always seen in front, always in the midst of peril, always meeting death face to face. He was the type of officer whom men follow blindly even to certain destruction. By his courage and gallantry he rendered a great service to the Viceroy of India, and in return he received the Order of the Star of India. The motto of the Order was one engraven on his heart — " Heaven's light our guide." Slowly but surely he mounted the ladder which leads to fame. He was made a baronet, and soon afterwards the Order of the Bath was given to him. He was a thorough soldier ; he lived for his profession alone. He had found time, in the midst of all his occupations, to marry — though General Sir Arthur Hatton never made much pretense of having married for love — a rich widow. Lady Bourgoyne, whose husband had been one of the wealthiest men in India, and had left the whole of his for- tune to her. The fair widow herself had given the first sign of preference for Sir Arthur. She admired the gallant soldier, with his bronzed, handsome face and fine figure. She gave him to understand, in a royal kind of fashion, that she liked him. Hitherto Sir Arthur had not given a thought to love or marriage. He looked upon matrimony as something not quite fitted for a soldier. He wondered a little when he heard of officers and privates marrying. He wondered yet a little more when he thought of all that the wives and mothers had to s'^fTer. He was amused, rather than otherwise, when Lady Bour 68 -4 BROKEN WEDDING-RING, goyne commenced to woo him. When she first began to distinguish him by her attentions, he was timid and half shy, wholly amused, and quite ignorant of what to do or say. Lady Bourgoyne managed it all for him. Consider- ing that she was at that time one of the most popular and wealthy women in the whole presidency, her admiration and evident liking for the general created no small sensa- tion. She . married him at last ; for, oddly enough, in speaking of the wedding, no one ever remarked that the general had married Lady Bourgoyne. They lived together happily for many years. Lady Hatton was one of the best and most submissive of wives. She simply adored her husband, and lived for his happi- ness. He seemed to be always more or less surprised at himself for having married. When Lady Hatton died, she left the whole of her enormous fortune to him. Sir Arthur missed his wife ; he mourned for her with all sincerity ; and he lived on without knowing that his heart was still sleeping, and had never awakened to the least knowledge of true love. Before his marriage he had received the letter written by his sister, and it had touched him dceeply. He had loved little Doiis very dearly. She was but a child when he had left home, yet he retained the liveliest and most lov- ing memory of her. He said to himself, when he read the letter, that he would most certainly attend to her wishes. But it was a difficult thing to do. He was thousands of miles from home, and his time was incessantly occupied. He delayed from day to day, not quite knowing what to do, until at last the letter was put away with other papers and forgotten. Then came the busiest part of his life .^ he married, lost his wife, doubled his fortune, and resolved upon returning to England. He resigned his command, gathered together his wealth, and, to the great regret of all who knew him, sailed for his native land. He had 4 BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 69 spent the best part of his life in India, he had accumulated much treasure, and he determined that he would spend the few last years of his life in ease and enjoyment. Under the heat of the tropical sun, and amid the discora forts of a tropical clime, this had been his one idea, the one dream in which he had revelled — to return home, and in the heart of his native land, fairer to him than any other on which the sun shone, make for himself a perfect home. Everything succeeded as he wished. The princely mansion and estate of Brentwood were in the market, and tl*e general's solicitors declared that he could not do better than purchase them. He did so ; the grand old house, with its magnificent grounds, its woods, and streams, became his, and he was proud of it. Brentwood stands in the beautifully-wooded and picturesque county of Warwick- shire ; the lovely Avon runs near it, great hills crowned with trees stretch out on either side. Brentwood Hall and Brentwood Park have been famous in picture and song for many generations. The general was pleased with his new iesignation — " Sir Arthur Hatton of Brentwood.'* Many people wondered if he would marry again ; but the geaeral had no such intention. He knew nothing of house-furnishing or decoration ; but he gave carte-blanche to Messrs. Carson and Son, the famous upholsterers, the result of which was that he had one of the most magnifi- cently furnished houses in England. He had a correspond- ingly heavy bill to pay. He looked at it, sighed, won- dered what his wife would have thought of it, drew a check for it, and forgot it. When the Hall was ready for occu- pation, he took up his residence there. All his papers were sent to him, and, looking over them one day, for the purpose of arranging them, he found his dead sister's letter that had been hidden away for so long. He re-raad ^0 -^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING. , it with a smothered cry of self-reproach. He had for- gotten it all these years. He determined to make amends at once. He loathed the name of Martin Ray. Amos Hatton had not spared his daughter's husband, and the strength of his hatred had been imparted to his son. Sir Arthur Hatton had the utmost contempt for one whom in his own mind he always called ** the demagogue ; " but he felt inclined to love and adopt his sister's children. It was by no means a difficult matter to find out Martin Ray's address. The general had been struck at once with the proud, delicate beauty of Leah, and the promise of fair loveliness in Hettie. It was not strange, he reflected ; for his sister had been beautiful. He saw at once that there was something wrong between Martin Ray and his eldest child. Her words puzzled him. " I have been praying," she said, " for some one to deliver me from this furnace of fire, and Heaven has sent you." His heart went out to the beautiful trembling girl who had come to him, and chosen life with him. She should be to him — so he swore — as his own daughter, his heiress, the great comfort of his life. He loved her, and was grateful to her. Yet he admired Hettie ; the memory of her, as she stood with her arms clasped around her father's neck, her exquisite tenderness, her calm decision, were never forgotten by him. Both girls had noble natures ; of that he felt sure. But, as he drove away from the house with his beautiful niece in his care, he asked himself which had the nobler nature of the two — Leah, whose whole soul had rebelled against the teaching, belief, the life of her father, who loathed the task he had wished her to perform, who had been thankful to escape, even at the risk of never seeing father or sister again ; or Hettie, whose loyal, tender heart had clung more closely to the father whom Leah abandoned. Which was the nobler of the two he could not decide. A PROKEl/ WEDDING-RWG. y. He admired the beautiful, proud girl who would sooner sacrifice the loves of her life than become what her father wished to make her; he admired her rebellion against what she believed to be mean, false, and unholy. He ad- mired the faithful love with which the younger girl clung to her father. He could not tell which he thought the nobler, which he admired the more ? but one thing was certain — he loved Leah best. Leah had chosen him and the life he was ready to offer her; Hettie had refused both, therefore he would always love Leah best. Still his heart yearned over the girl who had her mother's blue eyes. " I must be content," he said to himself. " After all it is fair. I have one child, he has the other. Even Doris herself would scarcely have cared to see him deprived of both." ga A BROKEN WEDDING-RING* CHAPTER X. General Sir Arthur Hatton and his niece were soon settled in their new and magnificent home. To Leah it seemed as though she must be in the whirl of a dream. Her own story was to her very much like one of the fairy tales that had delighted her when she was a child. " I am a real Cinderella," she said to herself, with a smile. But in no way did she resemble that humble little maiden. She was proud by instinct and by nature. She was proud of her mother's name of Hatton, of the good old family from which her mother came, of the blood that ran in her veins from her mother's side. She was proud of being true to herself, of being loyal to what she believed to be right principles. The compact made between her uncle and herself had not been broken. The name of Ray had been given up and she had adopted that of Hatton. " We will have no false pretenses," the general had said. " You are my adopted daughter and heiress, but every one must know that you are my niece. I am in the place of your father ; but while one lives who . claims the title I should not like to usurp it. You are my nie6e, Leah Hatton ; and, as we are discussing the subject for the last time, let me say that, should you ever wish to marry, I will myself tell to your future husband what I think he ought to know of your history. You must not do it yourself." After that, not another word was spoken between them on the subject. People were not curious. It was sufficient to know that Leah Hatton was the abopted daughter and heiress of General Sir Arthur Hatton, K. C. B., one of the wealthiest and most famous men in England, A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 73 Leah was troubled at first when she saw the magnifi- cence of the home that was to be hers. She imparted her fears frankly enough to the general, but he smiled at them. " My dear Leah," he said, " no woman can be more than a lady — can be more than refined, well-bred, graceful and accomplished. You are all those. You will soon be accustomed to the new life ; you will adapt yourself to it naturally. If there is any little deficiency in your knowl- edge of society matters, you will meet it by studying attec- tively the habits and manners of those about you." From the first moment she entered his house she w,as, he told her, entirely mistress of it — there was no appeal against her authority. Most girls of her age would have been too young for such a position ; but Leah was older than her years. It was a marvellous change for her, from the small, gloomy house in a dull street to that grand old mansion, where everything bespoke the pride of wealth and luxury. Some young heads would have been turned by it. Hers was not. She fell into the position so natur- ally that no one would have dreamed that she had ever held any other. Miss Hatton of Brentv/ood was quite a different girl from Leah Ray. Sir Arthur had behaved in the most munificent man- ner. He had taken Leah first to London. It was a novelty for him to have the charge of a young and beauti- ful girl. " You must have everything perfect, my dear niece/' he said, " before you go to Brentwood. The eyes of ser- vants are so quick to notice deficiencies. We must have a wardrobe, a case of jewels, and a lady's-maid before we go home." Leah purchased just what she would, and Sir Arthur presented her with a superb suite of rubies. " I have whole boxes of precious stones at Brentwood,'* y4 ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING. he said ; " and you must choose from them, Leah. Most of them were spoils, I believe, once in possession of Sir George Bourgoyne. My wife left them all to me." " That has a magnificent sound, uncle," she returned — " * whole boxes of precious stones.' " " My dear," he said, simply, " it is true. I could not enumerate the treasures that my wife possessed. I do not care about them myself. I dislike the sacking of cities, but Sir George did not. My wife had shawls worth any money, jewels of every kind, the finest satins, the rarest lace. She had embroidery and silk, ornaments of gold and of ivory, embroideries o? sUver and of gold. I have never known what to do with them, but now I give them all to you." " To me " she exclaimed — " all those treasures to me ! Uncle, you must think over it; perhaps you may want them some day. You might marry again." "Never," replied the general, calmly. "I have the greatest respect and veneration for all women ; but I shall never marry again.'* He was about to add that he had not intended to marr}^ at all, but he stopped himself. " They are all yours," he repeated. " They have not been unpacked even yet ; but when we reach Brentwood, they shall be put in your possession. India was a land of treas- ure, Leah." " My life grows more like a fairy-tale every day," she said to herself ; and from the depths of her heart came a great sigh that she could not share her treasures with Hettie. Sir Arthur soon provided his beautiful young niece with a magnificent wardrobe; no marriage trousseau pre- pared for a princess could have been more elaborate, more costly. A clever, bright Parisian maid was also found ; and Sir Arthur purchased for Leah one of the handsomest A BROKEJV WEDDING-RINC, 75 hacks in London, engaging at the same time a staid and dapper groom. When all was ready and provided, they went down together to take possession of Brentwood. It was a bright beautiful day, and the park looked lovely ; the grand olc) hall, in the dazzling sunlight, was strikingly picturesque. " Is this Brentwood, uncle ? " asked Leah, her facf growing pale with emotion as she gazed upon it. " Yes, my dear ; and it is a fitting home for the Hatton* It is mine now ; it will be yours when I die." ** DTine ! " she exclaimed ; and a solemn sense of heavy responsibility came over her. *' Yes, yours, Leah ; I have no relatives but you." " It must be a fairy-tale," she said to herself ; but her heart beat fast when her uncle led her into the magnificent abode that was to be her own in the years to come. Though so grand and stately, there was something home-like about Brentwood. The rooms were all light and lofty, full of sunshine, and from most of them thete was an uninterrupted view of the green undulating park ; the corridors were long and spacious. In the whole mansion there was not one gloomy spot ; the windows were large, the perfumed breeze from the gardens seemed to sweep through the place. It was very ancient — rich in grand oak carvings, priceless oak-panelled walls with evevy kind of pretty nook and corner. Just where one least expected it was some bright little room, some flowery corner, some deep bay-window overlooking beautiful scenery, some pretty quiet nook seemingly made for tete-a-tetes. There were a large picture-gallery and a fine ballroom " We shall be happy here, Leah," said the general ; ** we have everything to make us so.'* And she smiled in the fulness of content. But whe^i Bhe had taken possession of the suite of rooms prepared for her, when the magnificent dresses had been put away ^6 ^ BROKEN WEDDING'RmG. in the wardrobes made of cedar-wood, v^hen the superb store of Indian treasures had all been examined, when she had grown accustomed to the luxury of a lady's maid and a groom, of horses and carriages, her heart turned with a great and wistful yearning to Hettie. She had loved her; and that love, checked by the rebellion against her fate, returned with double force now that her fear and dread were gone. To her proud, sensitive mind, it appeared a species of cowardice to leave her sister to a fate she could not bear herself. Yet Hettie had elected to be so left ; she would not come away with her. Her remembrance of that loving sister was the only drawback to her perfect happiness. She was alone in the cozy morning-room one morning when Sir Arthur came to seek her, his face full of de^'o^ht. " Leah," he cried, " can you guess what strange, good fortune has happened to me ? " She looked up at him with the brightest of smiles. " How can I guess, uncle, when you have already all the good fortune in the world ? " " I have my share of it, Leah ; that is tjuite certain. But this piece of good luck is something quite unlocked for and unexpected. You have heard me speak of a very dear friend I had many years ago — a young captain in our regiment — Harry Egremont ? " " Yes," replied Leah, who delighted in nothing so much as in listening to her uncle's stories of Indian life. " Yes, I remember the name." *' He was one of the finest fellows in the world," cried the general — " so simple, generous, brave, and noble ! I have lost sight of him for many years. I hear that he has unexpectedly succeeded to a peerage. I find that he is Duke of Rosedene, and that he lives only seven miles from here. His estate and mine run parallel for miles • and I am so delighted, Leah." A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. yy " So am I, for your sake," she said. ** What is the place called ? " " Craig," he replied. " Do you remember a picture in the gallery of a grand old gray mansion standing in the midst of a magnificent woodland, with the sunset falling over it ? That is Craig. The duke and duchess live there about three msmths in the y^ar ; they are generally in town for the season, and during the rest of the year they live at Dene Abbey, a beautiful place in Sussex." " Then the duke is married ? " said Leah. " Yes ; he married a fashionable beauty, and I hear that she is a very nice woman. I am glad for your sake ; she will be such an excellent friend for you. They are at Craig. I shall go over to-morrow, and then you will see that all your difficulties will be ended." On the morrow he carried out his resolve, and received a welcome that made his heart glad. The Duke of Rose- dene was delighted to see him ; he overwhelmed him with the warmth of his greeting. " To think," he cried " that I should have you for a neighbor! It is the greatest piece of good fortune that could have fallen to my lot." Sir Arthur c^ked for the duchess, who received hn.. with a pleasant, gracious manner that charmed him. To her, in his simple fashion, he opened his heart about his niece ; he told her how beautiful she was, and that he had adopted her as his daughter and heiress. The duchess was too much ^f a woman of the world to express any sur- prise ; but, remembering his vast wealth, she knew that his heiress would at once become a person of distinction. "It is my niece," h3 said, " That I want to interest your grace in. As my old friend's wife, you will do me a kindness for his sake, I am sure." " I will do it for your own," responded the duchess, kindly ; her heart warmed to the brave soidier wno tnought ^8 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, SO little of himself and so much of others. " I will do all that you wish for your niece," she continued ; " and, as a preliminary, I will drive over to see her to-morrow." And, much delighted, the general took his leave. CHAPTER XL The Duchess of Rosedene was fastidious even to a fault. Public opinion was often led by her. If she ap- proved of anything, it was sure to be perfection ; if she disapproved, it was generally found that she was right. To know her was to have the right of entree into the most exclusive circles ; not to know her was in itself a confes- sion of inferiority. Tabe on her visiting-list, to attend her " at homes," to be asked to her balls — the best given in London — were honors for which every belle, every fash- ionable woman sighed. She was the only child and wealthy heiress of an earl, and her marriage with the Duke of Rosedene had been dictated by pure affection alone. They were exceedingly happy; but there was one cause for disappointment — they had no children. This was the one cloud in their bright sky. At the duke's death his estate and titles must pass into strange hands. It was a grievous trouble to them. In order to forget it, the duke flung himself into the whirl of politics and the duchess into all the gayeties of the world. She was one of the most popular and most highly esteemed women in England. Her name figured everywhere — in lists of charities, in every work of benevolence. She was the patroness of in- numerable bazars, fancy fairs, and other fashionable methods of doing good. To be chaperoned by the Duchess of Rosedene was a guarantee of success. But she THE BROKEN WEDDING-RING. ^g was fastidious, and not easily pleased. She had g>v^ii a promise, charmed by the simple earnestness of the general ; but she wondered if she had done a wise thing. With an anxious face she went to her husband. " The Hattons are a good family, are they not ? " she asked. " One of the oldest and best in England," replied the duke. " Greatly fallen off, I believe ; but one may still be proud of knowing them." " I wish," said the duchess, " that I had seeu the girl before I made the promise." " I am quite sure you need not fear," rejoined the duke. " If she is like the rest of the Hattons, she will be all right." But the duchess declared that she was a little nervous. "I would do .anything," she said, "for your friend. I like him immensely. But I have promised so much for the girl — to chaperon her, to present her ; and, if she should not be just what I like, it will be awkward." The duke assured her that she might rest content. The next day she went over to Brentwood. Any fe'ar she might have had was dissipated by the sight of the face and figure of Leah. Her manner was simply perfection. She showed no over delight, yet she was most attentive and polite to the duchess. She allowed her to see that she felt her visit to be a great honor, yet that, while she acknowledged it, she was in no way unduly elated over it. The duchess was charmed with her. She thought Leah one of the most beautiful and graceful girls she had ever seen. She was struck by her face. There was more than mere beauty ; passion, poetry, and eloquence were in it. She marvelled at Leah's grace, her good breeding, her accom- plishments, and her refined education. She felt there was none more fair, graceful, or better fitted to take a high position in society. " I shall be proud of her," thought $0 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. the duchess ; " it will be difficult to surpass her." It was not often that her Grace of Rosedene deigned to cha- peron any young lady ; but when she did it was done effectually. She watched Leah with keen eyes. Every gesture, every pose, every word pleased her. " She should marry well," thought the duchess. " There will not be another face like hers next season." Yet, beautiful as it was, there was something in its expression which the duchess did not quite understand — the dawn of restless passion, the long- ing that could never be gratified, the story that could never be told. " She is not like other girls," thought her grace ; " what satisfies them will never content her. There is something like a longing for the infinite in those dark eyes of hers." And in that moment, seated in Sir Arthur's luxurious drawing-room, surrounded by everything most costly and lovely, looking into the fair, proud face of Leah Hatton, there came to the duchess a foreboding that made her grow faint and pale with fear. They were delighted with each other. The duchess pressed Leah to go over to Craig on the following day. "I am sorry," she remarked, "that we are not re- maining longer in the neighborhood ; but, go where we will, you must remember our compact. We are to be friends always. Do not forget that I am to be your * social god- mother,* and that next season I am to present you. I predict for you a grand success." The duchess added how delighted she would be if, in the winter months, Leah could join them in a tiip she and her husband intended taking to Rome. That same evening the duke, entering his v/ife*> bou- doir, found her standing against the window, looking thoughtfully out on the tall, spreading trees. She did not see him or hear him, and started violently when he laid his hand upon her shoulder. A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 81 " What are you thinking about, Muriel ? " he asked. ** I do not often find you meditating." She looked up at him gravely. " I am thinking," she said, " about Leah H?tfon's eyes." " What is the matter with them } " he asked, laughing, ** I saw nothing wrong." "There is nothing wrong," she replied. "They are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Do you remem- ber that superb heartsease of which Hawkins, the gardener, was so proud .? It was not black, but rather a rich dark purple with a gleam of gold in it. Her eyes are of just such a col- or. I thought of the heartsease the moment I saw them. Yet it was not the color, rare and perfect though it be, that struck me the most ; it was the expression. I am quite sure, Harry, that she will have no common fate." " My dear Muriel," said the duke, " you are surely not growing romantic ? " " No, I am not ; but there is something in the expres- sion of the girl's eyes — a passionate longing ; I wonder for what — whether for happiness, for wealth, for honors, or for love ? " " Do you not class happiness and love together ? " asked the duke. " Not in her case, I'm sure ! " cried the duchess. " If ever that girl loves, it will be with her whole heart ; and you know my belief on that point — any woman who loves with her whole heart suffers the direst pain with the most exquisite bliss. To be really comfortable in this life, there must be no grand passions." "Perhaps you are right," replied the duke. "For steady wear in the long run, ours was the best kind of love, Muriel." " I am sure of it," she answered. " A grand passion would have killed me." Si A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, " Yet you love me with all your heart, Muriel ? *' " With all my heart," she replied. *• There are women and women, loves and loves. That girl, depend upon it, Harry, has a power of loving to which I am thankful to say, most women are strangers." *' Yet her face is not at all expressive of tenderness/* said the duke ; " it tells rather of pride." " It is proud, but there is concentration in it. She will love but few ; and those few she will love well. I feel as though I had been looking at the picture of some beautiful queen of tragedy, some heroine of a grand poem ; I can- not shake off the impression that her face has made upon me. But she is coming over to-morrow, and then I can st'idy her at my ease." The duke smiled to himself ; it was some time since he had seen his stately wife so deeply impressed. " Was her mother a lady ? " asked the duchess, sud- denly. *' Yes ; her mother was Sir Arthur's sister. She mar- ried, I believe, beneath her." " Then why is she called Hatton ? " asked her grace. ** Because Sir Arthur has adopted her. It is perfectly natural that she should take his name." And the duchess never gave the subject a second thought. Sir Arthur had been equally pleased. He had watched the duchess' face when she first saw Leah, and noted the flash of delighted admiration. " Your niece is most charming," she had said to him in her gracious way. " Bring her over to Craig, to-morrow." He congratulated Leah ; and she smiled with wonder- ing eyes. " It must be a fairy-tale, uncle," she said. " A few weeks since, Het " She stopped abruptly, for she was on the point of pronouncing the name she had promised never to mention. The very effort to check her- g^ blanched her face and lips. The general appeared ^A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 83 not to notice it. " But a few weeks since," she said, " I had but one pair of gloves — and they were so mended and darned that I was ashamed to wear them — and not five shillings of my own in the wide world. Now I am miss- tress of Brentwood, your adopted child and heiress ; I have a fortune in the treasures you have given me ; a duchess takes me by the hand and asks me to be her friend ; I am promised all that this world can give me — the loveliest, brightest, happiest life. Now, is it not like a fairy-tale ? " " Yes," he replied, looking at her face. He wondered if, in the dawn of that rich, passionate loveliness, there was the beginning of sorrow or of joy. In the course of a few weeks, Leah was quite at home amidst the luxury and magnificence of Brentwood. As time passed on, the memories of the old painful life grew weak ; the love of her fair young sister was the strongest pas- sion that remained. She thought of her father with a dread that was strangely mingled with regret and love ; but she thought of him as little as possible ; her heart and her rea- son vi^re at war with each other over him. She was grate- ful for her escape from what she termed " a furnace of fire." She was armly welcomed at Craig ; the duchess even grew attached to her ; and when, after a gay autumn and innumerable shooting-parties, the time for the projected tour to Rome came, she invited Leah to accompany her. At first the general was inclined to refuse. He had just learned, he said, that he could not live without her, and it was cruel to wish to take her away. But when the duchess showed him all the advantages to be gained, he yielded at once. " You have asked me to complete your niece*s educa- tion," she said ; " in no way can it be done better than by taking her abroad. A few weeks with me in Paris and. in 34 ^ BROKEN WEDDING'RlNCf* Rome will change her altogether ; she will be a different girl." He fixed his eyes lovingly on Leah, " Do you think it well to change her?" he asked, slow- ly. " She seems to me perfect." " If you intend to make her a woman of the world, she must change in some respects," said the duchess, a little impatiently. " Leave her to me, Sir Arthur; I will promise that you shall be satisfied with the result." And after that Sir Arthur offered no further opposi- tion. CHAPTER Xn. The Duchess of Rosedene was detained for a consider- able time on the Continent by a severe illness of her hus- band, and in reply to her anxious entreaties the general allowed his beautiful niece to remain with her. Although his heart yearned for her, and his eyes longed once more to behold her, he knew that the care and training which the duchess could bestow were invaluable, and were such as he could not have found elsewhere. He was content to wait. During Leah's absence he purchased a magnificent mansion in Belgravia, to which, in loving memory of his native town, he gave the name of Harbury House. The decorations were so magnificent, the furniture was so ele- gant and costly, that public attention was drawn to the house, and it soon became known that Sir Arthur had made this purchase for his adopted niece and heiress, who was now in Italy with the Duchess of Rosedene, and who was — so rumor said — as beautiful as a vision. A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 85 People looked forward with interest to the time when the brilliant young beauty should be presented and take her place among them. It was a pity, certain spinsters and widows declared, that with such vast wealth and so ^ many places to keep up. Sir Arthur did not marry himself ; his beautiful young niece would have some one to look after then. But the keen blue eyes of General Sir Arthur Hatton were never to look on any woman with love, The duke's health having been quite restored, the duchess had arranged that the travelling party should return to London at once. It was then the very end of . April, and the season had begun. A drawing-room had been held, at which some fair young faces had been seen ; but she knew that none could have equalled that of Leah Hatton. The duke had a grand old mansion named Park View close to Hyde Park, while the duchess had a villa which she preferred to any other resort ; it was called the Reach. It was situated on the Thames, not far from Kew, and nothing delighted her grace more than to escape from the crowd and spend a few days on the banks of the river. The duke and duchess went direct to Park View. Sir Arthur was invited to meet them, and from their house he was to take Leah home. He was impatient to see her. The duchess had told him that she had changed so com- pletely he would hardly recognize her. He longed to see what change had been effected ; to his way of thinking, she could not have grown more beautiful. He stood in the drawing-room at Park View. At first he saw only the pictures, the gleam of white statues, the harmonious tints of thick, soft carpets, the brightness of innumerable flowers, the groups of sweet violets which perfumed the air ; then, standing before him, the hand- some, stately duchess, with white, jewelled hands held out in greeting to him ; then, further away, near a slender, shapely palm, he discerned a figure and face so perfectly Se A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. beautiful that he looked in amazement. It was his niece Leah. The long absence had wonderfully improved her. He grew pale as he went up to her and kissed her in silence, for his emotion was too great for words. The duchess had been right after all. Nothing but constant association with an accomplished and refined wo- man of the world could have given such high-bred ease and grace to her. "My daughter and niece," he said, "you have been away little more than a year, yet there is a difference of many years in you." *' Are you satisfied ? " asked the duchess, softly, some time afterward, when they found themselves alone. " I should be most ungrateful were I anything else," he replied. " I can never thank you enough. I must con- fess myself overwhelmed with surprise." " I do not feel much inclined to let my treasure pass out of my hands," said the duchess, with a smile. " If I intrust her to you, you must promise me that she shall not be seen until the day of the drawing-room. I want her to take the gay world by surprise. She will make a sensation such as we have not had for some time past. Do you not agree with me ? " " With every word," replied the general. " I feel my- self almost in awe in the presence of such perfect and peer- less loveliness." " M^nd," said the duchess, laughingly, " Leah must make the best match of the season. I shall not consider any one under an earl or duke presentable. She might have been a princess while we were in Rome, but she would not." "I am glad of it," he declared. "There are no men like Englishmen. I hope she will marry — if she marries at all — some one who will be kind to her and make her happy." A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. gy It did not occur to him to add, " some one whom she loves." Love had never been a necessity of life with the old soldier. Sir Arthur took his beautiful niece home that evening to Harbury House. " Do you know why I gave this house the name of Har- bury ? " he said to her ; and then he told her that it was in affectionate remembrance of the pretty town where his father had lived and died. Magnificent as the house was, it was but a fitting shrine for the young beauty who had come to be mistress of it. When they stood in the drawing-room, Sir Arthur regarded his niece still more attentively. " I should hardly have known you, Leah," he said, gen- tly. " Among all the Hattons I do not think we have had one like you." The exquisite face brightened. *' There are times, uncle," she said, " when I do not quite know myself — the change is so great to me." " My dear Leah," he returned, in the earnest simple manner which alwa ys carried truth with it, " you were born for the station I hope to see you fill. It would have been ten thousand pities to — leave you where — you were." That was the only allusion the general ever made to the past, and it seemed to be wrung from him by the sur- prise of her marvellous loveliness. On that same n;ght he showed Leah all over the magni- ficent mansion that he had made his own, with all its treasures of art and wealth. " This will be yours when I die, Leah," he said ; and he was proud to s^e that no flush of elation came to her face. " I wonder Leah," he said, suddenly, " if you could bear ill-fortune as well as you do prosperity ? " " I trust so," she answered ; and the firm, steadfast ex- pression on her face made him think that she could. 88 ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING, " I hope you will never be tried," he said. They sat together for some time talking. He was charmed with Leah's manner, her bright, fascinating ways, her graceful, well-chosen words. " You shall not leave me again, Leah," he said, "until you are married." " I do not think I am one of the marrying kind," she replied, with a sweet, low laugh. " Among the old Roman noblesse and gay Neapolitan princes was there not one you liked, Leah ? " " I liked them all in the same fashion," she replied " The Prince of San Sabino is, I should think, as hand- some a man as could be seen in the world, with a most musical voice and most courtly manner. They call him the Roman Apollo." " And even this Apollo did not interest you, Leah ? " he said. " No ; so, dearest uncle, if we are to live together until I am married, I do not see any chance of our parting just yet." " That's right," he said. " I could hardly bear to lose you at present, Leah. Let me see — how old are you now ? " " I am in my nineteenth year," she replied. ** And when is the drawing-room to be held ? " ** Next Tuesday." " And from that day a new life will unfold to you, 1 suppose. I wish you success ; I could not wish it more earn- estly were you my own daughter." When, after a few days of anxious preparation, Leah stood before him dressed for her presentation, he owned himself perfectly well pleased. The duchess, whose taste was irreproachable, had chosen her court dress ; and the general had presented her with a suite of diamonds — stone that shone and scintillated with every movement — diL monds that made many envious. A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 89 ** Are you quite satisfied with me, uncie ? " she asked, with a smile that deepened her bright loveliness. ** Quite," he answered. " I always thought the fashion of wearing fathers awkward until now." The duchess called for her, and they drove away to the Palace together. The day was fine, the crowd great. Many of the royal family were present. There were de- butantes from many of the noblest families in the liind; but Leah outshone them all as a planet outshines the stars. She never forgot the moment when she stood first in the presence of the gracious lady who rules the vast empire over which the sun neve^ sets. Looking up with half- frightened eyes, she saw before her a noble, kindly face, with a pleasant smile, she saw the gleam of jewelled orders. A kindly voice was speaking to her. The niece of so brave and worthy a soldier as Sir Arthur Hatton could not but be welcomed by the sovereign whom he had so faith- fully served. Looking at the royal lady, so true a woman, and so true a Queen, Leah bethought her of who she herself really was — the daughter of the man who used all his elo- quence, and every other gift of Heaven to him, in his endeavors to hurl his sovereign from her throne, to turn the hearts of her people from her ; and, as she bent low be- fore the Queen, her eyes were dim with tears. True loy- alty rose in her heart, and she thanked Heaven once more that she had been saved from what seemed to her worse than " a furnace of fire." She could never have spoken against the Queen, or led the hearts of her people from her. She smiled to herself a half sad smile. It seemed so strange that she, who was once destined to be a lecturer against royalty, should now be presented to her Maiesty. 90 ^ BROKEN WEDDING-KIN^ CHAPTER XIIL From the day of her presentation a new life began for Leah. Hitherto she had seen but little of the world. In Rome and in Naples the Duchess had .taken her out but little. She wanted her to take the London world captive by her fresh and undimmed beauty ; she did so. On the day of the drawing-room Uttle else was discussed but the loveliness, the rich dress, the costly jewels, the vast wealth of Miss Hatton. People even went into raptures over her name, and said that no other would have suited her dark passionate beauty. In a few days " the beautiful Miss Hatton " grew fa- mous — she became the rage. On the night of the day that she had been presented, the Duchess of Rosedene gave a sumptuous ball, at which she was the belle. Some young girls would have been both elated and excited by the sensa- tion made. She was neither ; she was cool, calm, stately as a young empress. Some of the noblest men in the land bowed before her, peers complimented her ; but the beauti- ful face never flushed, the beautiful eyes never brightened with triumph. " Who shall say that good blood does not tell ? " thought the old soldier. " I do not believe her pulse would beat more quickly even if an emperor asked her to dance." He was right ; in this, the most brilliant scene in which she had ever mingled, a strange sense of unreality came over her. She could remember the fiery, passionate burning words with which her father had denounced all such gay- eties and the men and women who joined in them ; and yet, here was she, his eldest daughter, who had been trained THE BROKEN- WEDDING-RING. gj by him, the very queen of one of the assemblies he cen« sured ! There was a few moments' pause for her, during which she said to herself that her past life shadowed the present, during which she wondered if she would have been per- fectly happy had the past been different, had she been differently trained. Those watching her wondered at the shadow that seemed to fall over her face. It was not the perfect beauty alone which attracted men, She was unlike most girls of her age. She was calm, but not content; nothing seemed to interest her long — the sweetest music, the most witty or animated conversation, could not hold her for any time. She was restless, as one always seeking something better than that yet found. The only time when she seemed quite satisfied was when she poured out all the pent-up passion and poetry of her nature in music of her own. Men were quick to perceive that she was not of the ordinary type of girls, that flattery did not touch her, that she was above all coquetry and flirta- tion. Half of those who met her went home that night raving of her. The duchess was delighted with her success. She had felt sure of it, she had prophesied it ; but it had far ex- ceeded even her most sanguine anticipations. " The world is at her feet, Sir Arthur," she said ; " she can do as she will. No girl ever made a more successful debut I am proud of her. Look at her now." The duchess was seated watching the dancing; Sir Arthur stood by her side. " Look," she continued, " at the easy self^ possession. There is not the faintest flush on her face, not even the faintest stir in the diamonds that lie on het breast, not a quiver in the blossoms of the lovely flowers she holds." Yet on one side of her stood a gallant, genial prince, on the other a group of the most notable men ia the world g2 A BROKEN WKDDING'RING. of fashion. She turned with ready attention from one to another, without coquetry, without affectation. The pro- fessional beauties fought shy of her, and were very hard in their criticisms, much to the amusement of the sterner sex ; they did not see what there was to rave about. Lord Dunbar, who was supposed to be a good authority on beauty, said that if she had no other charm but that of the long dark silken lashes that fringed her eyes, she would still be the fairest of women. The scene was like a dream to Leah, a dream that never quite faded. The golden flood of light that made everything so clear and distinct, the thousands of lovely fragrant flowers, the magnificent decorations, the grand crashing of the music, the fair faces, the rich dresses, the subdued silvery murmur of laughter and of sw^eet voices, the rhythm of the flying feet, the admiring eyes that rested on her, the deep voices, that had whispered compliments to her, lived in her memory for years. No other ball in after years was like this. When they reached home Sir Arthur was surprised to find that his niece looked almost as dainty and as fresh as when she had started. The flowers had not withered in her hand, there was no sign of fatigue in the beautiful face, or of weariness in the dark eyes. " It has been a grand success, Leah," said Sir Arthur, as he bade her good-night — " one of which we may both be proud." " A grand success indeed," she replied. Yet even as she said the words, a sense of desolation and loneliness filled her heart. A little later she stood in her luxurious dressing-room. Everything that surrounded her was costly ; rich jewels gleaming in their satin cases, fans, slippers, ornaments of every kind, intermixed with choice flowers, made a very confusion of beauty j the delicate carpet of velvet pile was A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 93 soft and thick ; the hangings were of white and pink ; a few choice engravings adorned the walls ; treasures of mar- quetry, dainty carvings, and lovely statuettes told of the artistic taste which made the room a gem. She stood in the midst of it, her heart still beating with the emotion she had not been able to control. A success indeed ! Yet in the olden days, so far off, when she had been with Het- tie for a stroll in the wood or by the sea, or even in the crowded streets of the city, she, had felt happier and less lonely than now. She had everything that wealth and af- fection could lavish upon her, and yet she was lonely. If only the fair, loving sister were here ! If only the loving arms were round her, and she could kiss the sweet face ! A success ? Ay, it was that indeed ! But was she really happy ? Her maid had gone away, so she drew aside the curtains and stood at the window, watching the moonlight on the trees. Was she happy .^ What were the vague, curious de- sires that filled her heart ? No girl in this world had a brighter future. True, there was a dark background to the past ; but the time to come seemed bright enough. She wondered what would make her happy ? Not money ; she had already many thousands, and the time would come when she would have more. Money had nothing to do with it. It was not I'ank or posi- tion, title or grandeur. She remembered that but a short time since she had heard the story of a beautiful and be- loved young princess who was compelled from political motives to make a marriage of state. She heard of the sighs and moans that sounded at night in the palace, and how, on her wedding eve, the beautiful young princess was drugged to sleep. Ah, no it was not grandeur or rank ! The heart of aqueen often aches as keenly as the heart of a peasant. There was something far better worth living fpi: than all this. Q4 THE BROKEN WEDDING-RING. Some exquisite lines were ringing vaguely through her brain of the desire of a moth for a star. Was she the moth, and happiness the star ? There must be a bright, beautiful something in life that she had not reached yet, something higher and better than rank, fame, or gold, some- thing that was the crown of life and the treasure of woman- hood. The knowledge came to her, in that silent hour, that nothing would ever content her but " a great love " CHAPTER XIV. During the next three years Leah Hatton was the very queen of fashion. She was more popular, more sought, after, more admired, more beloved, more envied than any other woman of her day. Her beauty grew with her years. She was twenty-one now, and the magnificent promise of her girlhood had been fulfilled. Her loveliness had grown richer ; the gleam in her dark eyes was brighter ; the dainty bloom that had been faint as the hue of a blush rose had deepened ; the face was radiant in its own loveliness — men found it more than fair. During those three years she had presided with infinite grace over the large establish- ment at Brentwood and the magnificent house in town. At Brentwood she had received party after party of guests, including some of the greatest statesmen of the day, and she was considered one of the most attractive hostesses in the land. In a wonderfully short time she acquired the art of entertaining, knew " who was who," and, in fact, was equal to all the requirements of social life. She never made any mistakes. After a few weeks the general found that he could with safety leave everything to her. The servants worshipped her ; one word from their beautiful A BROKEN- WMDDING-RING. 95 young mistress was law. She was worshipped, too, by the poor around Brentwood, for she gave with a liberal hand ; she was beloved by all her dependents, for she was both just and generous — by all who knew her for her beauty and talents and winsome grace. At Harbury House dur- ing those three seasons she was a queen. The best din- ners, the best balls, the most successful private theatricals were given there. There were many other debutantes, but no one ever approached her ; the throne she held was entirely her own. Season after season the beautiful Leah Hatton came back to the gay world with fresh graces and charms. She was singular in many respects. She made many acquaint- ances, but very few friends. She had no girl-friend to whom she could speak of her thoughts and feelings ; her heart grew sad when she thought of any one else in Hettie's place. Among the faces of the girls around her she saw not one so sweet and fair as Hettie's ; and, re- membering this, a coldness came to Miss Hatton which added to the effect of her proud young beauty. She was considered everywhere as the most eligible, the most de- sirable match of the day. It was well known that she was the general's niece ; no one cared to ask whether she was the child of sister or brother. It was also well known that the whole of the general's vast fortune would be hers. She was at the very height of her popularity : people spared themselves no trouble to obtain even a glimpse of her fair face. When she went to the opera, more attention was paid to her than to the stage. " Beautiful Leah Hatton ! " What more in life could she desire than she had — wealth, popularity, affection ? Yet she was not happy ; her soul had found no rest. Bril- liant and gay as was her life, it did not satisfy her. It was bu^ as a dream to one who has ia^nite longings and infimte desires. ^5 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. If Martin Ray succeeded in nothing else, he had done this for his daughter — he had taken her out of the common groove, he had made her think, he had filled her mind with a thousand ideas of life. These were always puz- zling her. She had the air, the manner, the look of one whose thoughts and aims were higher and loftier than those of others. This added much to the charm of her passion- ate, proud beauty. The men who danced with her admired her the more because no flush of vanity came to her face. There was upon it the far-off look, the restless longing that nothing could gratify. " As for lovers," the duchess of Rosedene cried, hold- ing up her hands in horror, ** there is not an eligible man in the land who has not sought her ! Such offers, and all refused ! Refused too, without rhyme or reason I Leah has some notion that she must love some one, that love is the great end and aim of each one's life — love — not wealth, pleasure, or gayety, but love ; and, with such ideas, what can one do ? " The duchess shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. " Love, with such prospects as she has before her!" Some of the offers Miss Hatton received were dazzling ones. The young Earl of Barberry was handsome, talented and passionately fond of her. No; she would not be Countess of Barberry. There was the Duke of Lincoln, who had country seats, a town mansion, and untold wealth, who would have made her his duchess. She would not be Duchess of Lincoln ; and she had no other reason to give than that she did not love him ; and the one thing she longed for in this life was love. " Love I " said the duchess. " It will come with marriage." " Not the love I want," she replied j "that must come before, I want a romance in my life," TIfE BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 9, ** It is the way with those dark-eyed girls," said the duchess. " What a pity it is ! ** Then a great legal celebrity fell in love with Leah ; and of all the conquests she made that was certainly the- most wonderful. He was a man whose name was a tower of strength, whose opinion was held in the highest esteem, and who had never spent one half-hour in wooing in his life. He grew desperate about her, and the wonder was that he did not run away with her. He could not realize his disappointment; he could hardly bear his life when she refused him. The duchess sighed, but said nothing. If the Earl of Barberry could not win her, there was little hope for the legal lord. " You will marry some time, Leah," she said, with the resignation of despair. " It is possible," she replied, smiling ; " but it is more probable that I shall never marry at all." " Should you mind telling me why ? " asked the duch- ess, in tones of mock resignation. " I will tell you, duchess ; but you will be angry with me. I want some one to love me more than life itself — some one to be devoted to me, to give me all his thoughts, his whole life ; I want his heart to be one with mine, his soul to be the other half of my soul. I want perfect love and I want a perfect lover. I have my ideal love, and no other will do ; I have my ideal lover, and I shall wait for him." " My dear Leah, you are all wrong," cried the duchess ; ** you are, indeed ! Take care that you do not find such love and such a lover costly." " I will take the pain, if there should be any, with the happiness," she said. " All my life I have thought that the one thing to be desired is love." " There is no accounting for taste, Leah ; but certainly, with such prospects as you have, to make love the chief 98 ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING. aim of your life is, to say the least of it, a sad pity. This ideal hero of yours is sure to be both poor and unknown." Leah laughed again. How sweet that laughter was ! The duchess smiled as she heard it. " I cannot tell ; he may be the very reverse of poor or unknown. I do not know who he is or where he may be. It is just possible that I may never meet him ; but he exists somewhere. You know the old belief, duchess, that souls were made in halves, and that real marriage is the union of those half souls in one ? " *' Oh, Leah," cried the duchess, laughing, " there is no hope for you ! " " Not much," she said, "for I believe that I am waiting for my ideal; and he, rely upon it, is seeking me some- where. If we meet, I shall ask no more in life. He may be poor and unknown ; if so, it will make no difference to me. He may be great, noble, and wealthy ; it will be a matter of perfect indifference- to me. Shall I shock you just a little more, duchess ? " she added. ** Say what you will, my dear ; I am resigned." " I have an idea that the moment I see him I shall know him. I shall look into his face, and a revelation wiL* come to me." "Avery dangerous notion, Leah. You may fall in love with the wrong man altogether." " How can I, if my theory be true ? " she replied. " I have no doubt it seems absurd to you ; but it is a serious matter to me. I should not be surprised if some day I look into a face and hear a voice say : * I have been look- ing for you all these years.* " The duchess raised her hands. "And this,'* she said musingly — "this is after five years spent almost entirely with me, after three seasons of brilliant, uninterrupted success ! " " I have enjoyed it," replied Leah ; " but there must A BROKEN wedding-ring. 99 be something better. Balls and operas, /V/. his hand. *' I was a boy of eleven when I went away," he ssici, **and now I am twenty-five. I have never seen home since then, and I regret it. " "Why? "she asked. " Because there is no training like that of an English boy. I was just getting fond of cricket, and beginning to think about hunting and shooting ; I was a good skater, and understood something about — the gloves ! " "Do you know," put in Sir Arthur, "that the ring- fences of our estates meet and touch in what they call the Thorn Meadow ? " " I remember hearing that when I was at home. The Brent woods, from which this place takes its name, ex- tend almost to Glen. I knew every corner both of house and grounds when I was a boy. " A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. 109 " I hope you will come as often now as you did then, " 6Sit3 Sir Arthur, and the young baronet bowed. " You are very kind, " he said ; " I shall be only too glad to avail myself of your goodness. * Coming home ' is a very melancholy event for me, as you perhaps know.*' " Yes ; we have heard the cause of your mother's de- parture from England — and a very painful one it was, Sir Basil," said the general. Leah looked up at him ; all her soul shone in her eyes. " Let us help you to forget the shadow which has fall- en over your house and your life," she said; and his face brightened. " I shall be only too happy, Miss Hatton. I dreaded my return. I remembered the Glen as one of the loveliest of homes. I have longed to be here. Yet the memory of that night will never leave me." His whole face changed. " My mother lived fifteen years after the accident happen- ed ; but the shock her system had received killed her at last." Leah's dark eyes, full of interest and sympathy, filled with tears ; and, as he saw them, his heart warmed to her. Ho^ long it was since any one had shed tears for this old sorrow of his ! " It must have been a terrible shock for you both,'' said Leah. " Yes ; I was only a boy, but I worshipped my sister. You cannot tell how deeply attached I was to her. I think the love of a sister is one of the greatest joys of earth." Why did the fair face near him grow so pale ? Why did the graceful figure shrink and tremble, the hand that held the scarlet flowers suddenly fall nerveless and help- less ? Was it another coincidence that he should value so highly a sister's love ? " For years afterward," he continued, " I often a^^ke 1^-0 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. With that terrible scream of agony in my ears. If ever \ was inadvertently left in the dark, I saw the flying, terri- fied figure surrounded by flames. But I am cruel to trouble you in this fashion. I must learn to forget." " You do not trouble us," said Leah ; and she did not know how much of sweetness had crept into her voice. " I should think," she added, "that it would be far better for you to talk about it than to brood over it silently." "Perhaps it would," he answered gratefully. "You must forgive me this once. I came here this morning because I could not remain in the house. It was haunted by my sister's presence." " If I were in your place, Basil," said the general, " I would have plenty of friends abc at me. Stay with us to- day, and to-morrow we will drive over and see your gar- dens and conservatories. We have a pleasant party, and I think you will enjoy yourself." He looked at Leah. " I shall be delighted," she said, simply, a faint flush dyeing her face. " So shall I," replied Sir Basil. And that was how the first day of Leah Hatton's earthly paradise began. CHAPTER XVIL Half an hour passed, and they were still talking under ^he veranda on the western terrace. It seemed to Leah «ut a few minutes, and yet what a change had been wrought in the time ! Quite suddenly, and almost uncon- sciously to her, the whole world had changed for her — her life had grown complete. But a little while before her A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. m heart had been desolate. Despite the brilliancy with which she had been surrounded, there was a sense of chill and loneliness, of unrealized wishes, of vague hopes, of ungratified desires — a sense of the emptiness of all things. It had vanished as snow before the sun, and a sweet har- monious sense of the fulness of life, had taken possession of her. She could have stood for ever by the passion- flowers, looking at Sir Basil and listening to him ; but the general remembered the duties of hospitality. "You will stay for the day ? " he said. " One of the grooms can ride over to Glen for anything you may want." He did not know that his niece, whom the noblest and jvisest in the land had failed to win, was waiting with the keenest anxiety to hear whether their guest would accep/ iier uncle's invitation. "Leah," said Sir Arthur, "perhaps Sir Basil would like some refreshment after his long walk. You walked from Glen, I believe ? " " Yes ; I came through the woods," replied the young baronet. " I envy you those woods and the river." " If you will take my advice. Sir Basil," said the gen- eral, " you will have some claret-cup. For a warm morn- ing like this there is nothing like it. I will join you in a few minutes — I have to see my steward. Leah, you will take Sir Basil into the house. When he has had some re- freshment, he will join the party on the lawn." With a smile for his niece and a bow for his guest, Sir Arthur hastened away, leaving them alone together. It seemed to Leah as though the air throbbed ; her heart beat fast, her hands trembled ; all the rest of the world had fallen from her, and she stood alone with him. " This is a beautiful old place," he said. " I like the river. What fanciful lights and shades there are on it ! " The calm, quiet words brought her down from an exalted frame of mind to commonplace life. J12 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, " It is indeed lovely, " she said. " Do you like boat- ing ? I am very fond of it. I have a pretty little boat o£ my own, and I spend many hours upon the water. But I must not forget my uncle's instructions. You must come and have some refreshment. *' She replaced the trailing sprays of the crimson flowers which she had held all this time in her hands. She did nothing in the least degree unusual, yet every little inci- dent was vividly stamped on her mind. With the strange, new feeling about her she walked by his side down the long terrace. She took him into the drawing-room. ** Bring some light refreshments — also some fruit," she said to a servant ; and with her own hands she oifered him some delicious grapes. She remembered every word he uttered, every glance^ every movement of his ; and when he had taken what he wanted she looked at him with anxious, happy eyes. " Shall we go on to the lawn now ? " she asked. " I am quite at your service, Miss Hatton. Have you a large party at Brentwood ? " She looked at him again, with the dreamy, vacant gaze of one who has forgotten everything, then remembered suddenly, and blushed as he had seen no other woman blush before. The first thought that occurred to him was that perhaps she had a lover among the visitors, and was shy of mentioning his name — else why that vivid, beautiful blush? It was gone now, and she was smiling as she spoke. ** Not a very large party," she replied — " the Duke and Duchess of Rosedene, old friends of Sir Arthur's ; Lady Maude Trevar, who is distantly related to the duchess ; Colonel Farquharson, whom my uncle loves very dearly because his face is bronzed and he calls luncheon * tiffin.' " " Old Indian friends, I suppose ? " said Sir Basil. " Yes, they were inseparable for some years. There A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 113 are also Captain Langley and a very pretty niece of the old Colonel's. That completes the list." " It sounds like a very good list, too," he said. She remembered how he held the door open as she passed, and when the long train of pale amber was caught he stooped down to free it. She remembered how they passed through the grand old entrance hall, and out by the side door on to the lawn. The duchess was seated in the shade of the great cedar tree, with Lady Maud by her side, and pretty May Luson, who was evidently ready for mis- chief. Not far from them the colonel — a fine, handsome, elderly man, with a long, gray, drooping mustache — was enjoying a cigar and a newspaper. Captain Langley had been reading aloud to the ladies, but had been dismissed, because, as the duchess solemnly assured him, he had no taste for anything but humor. There was some little stir when Leah, with her hand- some cavalier, appeared. The duchess looked up with a smile. Leah led him to her first, and her grace gave him a very kindly greeting — all women were attracted to Sir Basil the moment they saw him. They passed on to Lady Maud Trevar — a tall, hand- some woman, somewhat /^^-j"^*?, but evidently bent upon making the best of herself. She received him with a mix- ture of what she intended to be girlish diffidence and womanly frankness ; both failing, the effect was lamentable. Captain Langley was very pleased, and pretty May, looking more like a fair rosebud than anything else, laughed with delight. *'You live at Glen, Sir Basil?" slie said. " I have seen a picture of Glen. There are innumerable fountams and terraces." " I hope you will honor me by coming to see its attrac- tions," he responded. '*The general has promised raQ that pleasure." j,^ A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, He was quite at home with them in a few minutes. Th6 colonel — who, while he abused India, knew no pleasure out of it — began to discuss with him the probabilities of a frontier war. Captain Langley aired his grievance — which was that some one most decidedly his inferior had been promoted over his head — and revealed that he was in a state of chronic indignation about it. In a very short space of time Lady Maud Trevar de- cided that Sir Basil was worth any trouble to win. He was at home with them all, and quite happy. The duchess called him to her side, and began a long conversation with him. She was delighted with him, and considered him quite an acquisition. A rich and handsome young baronet with a fine estate, he would want a wife ; and already she had begun to think of those of her acquaintance who were eligible for the post. She regretted that Lady Maud was old 2LXi^passee; her thoughts never went to Leah. Leah had called to mind not once, but a hundred times, that he was to be with them the whole day. She sat watch, ing him with contented, happy eyes, with a light on her beautiful face, as he went from one to another, thinking there was no other like him. During the afternoon the duchess called Leah aside. " Leah," she said, '' we must do something to entertain your young neighbor. I do not like to see his handsome face shadowed by melancholy. What can we do \ " " We will do anything that you suggest," replied Leah. Something in her voice made the duchess look up. " Leah, child," she said, " what have you been doing to yourself ? " " Nothing," replied Leah. ** Nothing ? Nonsense ! " said the duchess, energetically. •* I could almost believe that you had been rouging ! " '• I have done nothing of the kind," replied Leah, half A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. xi% indignant, half amused. " Why do you say such a thing to nie r *' My dear child, I perceive a change in you. A new soul shines out of your eyes ; your face is transfigured ! It nas struck me at times that you had a restless expression, as though the world did not quite answer to your wishes. It has gone now. You look as though your heart had awakened." She wondered still more when she saw a crimson blush cover the beautiful face. " What is it, Leah ? You have always trusted me. You may say what you will, but I am quite certain that there is something which would account for the change in you. Why, what happy eyes you have ! I never saw the golden gleam in them so plainly as I do this morning." With all her keen sagacity and worldly knowledge, it was wonderful that she did not connect the coming of the stran.^er with the change in Leah. ■' Never mind," said the duchess. " You will not tell me, Leah ; but I shall find it out. I know that an offer of marriage rather annoys you than not, or I should think you had received one this morning, and it had pleased you." " 1 would tell you if it were so, duchess," said Leah, " I look happy because — well, because I am happy. Have you ever seen a sky so blue, the earth so fair ? Did the birds ever sing as they sing this morning.'* Were the flowers ever so sweet ? Something — I do not know what it is — something has occurred which seems to have brought me unutterable happiness." . " It is worse even than I thought," remarked the duchess. " Come and take this chair. Let us talk prose, not poetry, and decide upon what we can do to amuse your young neighbor. I like him, Leah. I shall not rest until the melancholy has left his face, and I see the brightness that belongs to youth shining there." Xi6 A £iiOK£N WEDDING-RING. CHAPTER XVIIL The day passed, as the days always do, whether they be shortened by happiness or lengthened by sorrow, but Leah Hatton kept no account of the hours. All that was taking place was a dream to her ; the only effort she could make was to prevent other people from guessing her secret. He had come — the fairy prince who was to wake her from her long sleep ; but the world need not know it — must not know it. It would think her mad — this wary, keen, wise old world that laughs at the sweet follies of youth. She had surrendered her mind to a host of beautiful but unreal fancies ; they had made the brightest part of her life. To any other than herself they would have seemed absurd ; yet she had firm faith in them. She believed in this ideal lover of hers, who was looking for her in the world just as she was waiting for him. She had nursed herself in the belief that she would recognize him the mo- ment she saw him, and it seemed to her that she had done so. Hundreds of handsome faces had passed before her eyes, but not one had touched her heart until now. When she saw Sir Basil's she recognized it ; a strange, magnetic in- fluence seemed to come over her ; in the depths of her heart she said to herself : " I have met my fate." But now she must hide her secret, lest the laughing wicked world should be amused by it. She never thought of Sir Basil's part in the matter, whether he shared her feelings and fancies ; she was too much engrossed with her own. The day went on, and she spent almost every moment of it with him — a lovely day, that grew brighter and fairer with every hour that passed. That evening she stood in her dressing-room, the pietty A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. n^ Parisian maid looking at her in something like wonder. Miss Hatton had most exquisite taste, and liked always to be well dressed ; but on this evening it seemed as if it were impossible to please her. Dress after dress was discarded ; she could not choose her jewels. " Take those diamonds away," she said, and the superb suite of rubies and pearls were not pleasing to her. On the toilet table, intermixed with crystal and silver and richly- cut Bohemian glass, were some clusters of scarjet passion- dowers. She would wear them, and not the jewels. The Parisienne sighed. They would look very beauti- ful, but they would give her an immense deal of trouble. Leah had a fancy that she would like to be dressed af- ter the fashion of her picture ; but the black velvet looked to warm arid heavy for this bright summer night. At last she chose a dress of white shining silk, soft and fine, and and with it she wore nothing but passion-flowers. They crowned her dark, beautiful head, and glowed like flames against her white neck ; great trailing sprays fastened the folds of her dress. " They look far more beautiful than jewels," said the maid ; *' but will they live, madam ? " " They will live as long as I need then," answered Leah. It seemed to her that the flowers she wore to please him could never die. " I think, madam," said the maid, as she arranged the tall Pysche mirror, " if you will look now, you will be pleased." Pleased ? She flushed crimson as she saw the reflection of her own most radiant beauty. She was glad to be beautiful ; she rejoiced in her own loveliness. The dark waves of rippling hair with their crown of scarlet flowers, the exquisite face with its fair bloom, the white graceful throat and white shoulders, the perfect arms and hands, the figure so replete with sweet, stately, subtle grace, gi^ve Ilg A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, her infinite delight. She was child enough to fciss het warm, white arms, and to smile at the picture in her mirror, " I wonder," she said to herself, " if he will find me fair ? " There were still some minutes before the second bell would ring ; she would not go down until the flush had de- parted from her cheeks and the sweet, happy expression of her eyes told less, or the duchess would soon discover her secret. She looked from her open window to the running river, and snatches of song rose to her lips. She could have fancied that even the river knew what had happened to-day; the waters laughed and flashed in the setting sun. Oh ! happy day, day, to be remembered, for it stood out from her life as a bright star in the dark sky ! " The sixth of August," she said to herself ; " I shall never forget the date. I have been in the world twenty- two years, but I have never lived until to-day." Then the bell rang, and she went down into the draw- ing-room. More than one present drew a deep breath of silent admiration. The general thought he had never seen his niece look so well ; and the duchess said to herself, * Something has come to the child : it is useless for her to deny it." Sir Basil, too, looked at her in wonder. He had been attracted by her appearance as she stood on the terrace ; but now the sense of her great loveliness came over him and struck him almost dumb. He took her down to dinner, wondering that he had not been more impressed before, and he talked more to her than he had previously. The dinner-party was a pleasant one. Leah was a charming hostess , and a more agreeable, hospitable, en- tertaining host than General Hatton it would have been almost impossible to find. When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, the duchess took up a book, with some little hope of disguis* A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. hq iwg the fact that she was going to sleep ; Lady Maude had several secrets to talk over with pretty May Luson ; so that Leah was alone. She tried to steady her thoughts, but she could not — they were all chaos. She tried to still the throbbing of her heart ; it was impossible. The girl's every nerve was strained. The long French windows were wide open. She stood near one of them to see if the fresh evening air would drive away the thick crowding thoughts and fancies from her brain, and presently a voice near her said, — " How plainly you can see the river from here, Miss Hatton ! " She raised her dark dreamy eyes to Sir BasiFs. "I often wonder," she returned, "what I should do if I had to live where there was no river. I should miss it so much. I look at it always the first thing in the morning and the last at night. It is a friend and companion to me." " I am of your opinion ; no landscape is perfect to me without water. I have a childish love of water, from the great wild tossing ocean down to the tiniest lakelet, The sound of its falling or dripping or rushing, as the river rushes there, is the most charming music in Nature. While I was in Italy, I had a terrible fever, and for many days I was quite delirious — I may say mad ; and during the whole time what do you think my fancy was ? " The face raised to his was full of interest. " I thought I was lying by a beautiful waterfall, under the shadow of great trees with spreading boughs. I could hear the dripping of the water and the soft splash as it fell into the rocky basin below ; but, when I stretched out my hands to touch it, it was boil- ing — when I bent my head over the rocky basin and tried to drink it with my hands, it scalded me. Was not that a most uncomfortable delirium ? ' '' " Yes I should imagine so ; but I hardly understand what delirium is like," ,2o A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, " Have you ever indulged in a strong fancy,*' he asked — " so strong that you hardly knew the fancy from reality ? " Before she had time to answer him, a flood of crimson overspread her face ; and he wondered to himself why this proud young beauty blushed so deeply for nothing. Even had he known her fancies, he would not perhaps have un- derstood them. " Yes," she replied slowly ; " I know what a very strong and vivid fancy is. It grows into a belief." " All delirium is belief for the time," he said. Then he made way for the duchess, who roused by the entrance of a gentleman, had come toward the open windo\5 in search of fresh air. " We shall have a beautiful moon to-night," she said, looking up at the rosy sky, over which the gray shades of night were beginning to steal. " I like a full, bright moon. Leah, you look like a— a poem, with all those passion-flowers. Does she not, Sir Basil ? " " Miss Hatton is a poem," he replied. The words were earnestly spoken, although he meant nothing by them. They made the heart of the girl by his side thrill with happiness. " People have such different tastes," continued the duchess. " I do not like passion-flowers ; they always seem to me mysterious and melancholy. I like the smil- ing beauty of a hundred leaved rose." " It is strange," said Sir Basil ; " but I like passion- flowers better than any other flower that blooms." Leah turned her telltale blushing face away. The duchess laughed. " I beg your pardon," she said ; " I cannot quite believe my own ears. Would you mind repeating what you have just said?" "I like passion-flowers better than any other flower that blooms," he repeated. " I learned to love them in A BROICEN WEDDING-RING, 121 Italy, where they grow in wild, beautiful profusion — they look at their best when they cling round the old stone crosses and ruined shrines one sees continually. I think an old gray cross, covered with crimson passion-flowers, is one of the prettiest pictures in the world." " Ah I" said the duchess, slowly — her mind was open, ing to a certain X truth. " Do you remember, Leah, what we said this morning about passion-flowers ? " she asked, teasingly. But Leah would not look at the duchess, and would not answer her. ' CHAPTER XIX. The general had arranged for the whole party at Brent- Wood to go over to Glen in a day or two, " I think," Sir Basil had said, " that, if I could hear the sound of happy voices and laughter once more in the old hall, it would ceased to be haunted." So the kindly duchess settled that they should go and do their best to be happy and bright. They were to drive over in time for luncheon, spend the afternoon in looking over the house and grounds, dine, and return home in the cool of the evening. Sir Basil was anxious with regard to the entertainment of his guests. " It is quite a new thing for me to have visitors," he said, to Leah. " My mother's health was so delicate, we received no friends in Italy." " I am sure we shall all be happy," returned Leah^ brightly. To her it seemed as though she were going to spend the day in some earthly paradise. " I long to see Glen," she added. " \ have heard so much of it," 122 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. " I wish that more pleasant memaries hung over it,' he said mournfully. And she, raising her lovely face to his, said, — " We must drive the unpleasant ones away for you and put other and happier in their place." ** You will do that," he declared, warmly, " if you come often." And, althoug.. tne words meant so little, her heart thrilled with joy at hearing them. She counted the hours until the day came ; and again the patience of the maid was most severely tried. Leah Hatton never looked more radiant and lovely than on the day when she went to see the home of the man wi;h whom she had fallen in love. Over a dress of pale, cool amber she wore rich black lace, and on her head was " a broad-brimmed hat with rich drooping plume — a hat that threw a shade on the bewitching face, softened it, and made it more charming than ever. She had no ornaments, but she wore a Marechal Neil rose at her throat. The summer day itself was not more fair. The duchess had been, she persuaded herself, the very perfection of discretion. Since the little episode of the passion-flower she had made no allusion to Sir Basil. She was quick to see and understand. Without hearing a word she knew that this girl who had been as ice and marble to all lovers looked on Sir Basil with very different eyes. She remembered the words she had thought so foolish, yet which now seemed so true. " I shall know him when I meet him," Leah had said. *' I shall recognize him the first moment my eyes fall on his face." She had laughed at the words and at the idea, but she laughed no longer. Could it be true — was it possible — that in Sir Basil this proud, cold girl had found the ideal she had waited for ? The duchess was almost frightened. ** I will have nothing to do with it in any way," shf A BROKEN- WEDDING-RING. 123 said to herself. " I am not superstitious, but Leah has made me afraid. Supposing that she loves this man with all her heart, and that he does not love her? No; I will not hurry it on or help it by word or look." She watched and saw enough. She noticed that, heed- less of what Sir Basil thought or felt about it, Leah was learning to love him with all her heart. She was a differ- ent being ; the calm and repose of true happiness had come to her ; there was no more restlessness. Day by day, her beauty, under this new influence, grew more spiritual. Sir Basil admired Miss Hatton. He thought her beautiful and gifted ; he enjoyed long conversations with her ; he praised her voice and her singing; he liked to tell her all his thoughts and exchange ideas with her. But the duchess, in her own mind, decided that as yet he was not in love with Leah, although it was very probable that he soon would be. ** How is it," thought her grace, " that he does not find it out ? The girl's voice takes a different tone when she speaks to him, and her face is transfigured. But men are proverbially blind ! " As they started on this fair morning for Glen, the duchess wondered whether, on Sir Basil's seeing Leah in his own home, it would occur to him that it would be an excellent thing to have her there altogether — to ask her to be the mistress of the place he loved so well, but from which he had been exiled so long. It was a suggestive situation certainly. The kindly heart of the duchess grew interested in the affair. It would be a terrible thing for Leah to love without being loved. " She has just one of those passionate, poetical, impulsive natures that will lead her to love madly, and to die if she loves in vain," she said to herself. She watched the bright rapturous look on the exquisite face. " Heaven send the girl her heart's desire I '* said the duchess, and her eyes filled with tears. 134 ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RTNC, Sir Basil stood at the outer gate of the park to meet them. "Welcome," he said — " welcome to Glen ! " He walked by the side of the carriage which held the duchess and Leah. The duchess was pleased to see that he pointed out all the beauties of the place to Leah, and listened with interest to her remarks. She had been am- bitious for Leah once upon a time ; she had hoped to see her a duchess ; she had hoped that she would make some wonderful marriage. But now she felt that the best thing would be for her h^zyx'CiiyjX protegee to marry for love. Sir Basil would be an excellent match for her. He was wealthy ; even if he were not, Leah would have so much money her- self that there was no need for her to make it a considera- tion in marrying. The young baronet was gifted with every good quality. She might certainly, with her brilliant beauty and grand prospects, have done much better ; but she might also have done worse. With a girl of that kind, full of romance and fancies and strange ideas, the first con- sideration was her happiness. She was startled from her thoughts by a sudden ex- clamation from Leah ; her face had grown pale, as it did al- ways in times of great emotion. *' Look, duchess," she cried, " what a beautiful pic- ture ! " The approach to Glen was through a magnificent avenue of beech-trees ; they were not to be surpassed for size and beauty in the county. The avenue was wide and well kept, the grass green and smooth, and, when it terminated, the full glories of Glen were to be seen. Now, with the sunlight falling upon it, it was dazzling to the eyes of those who viewed it. The house itself was built of red stone, with white facings, and the front of it was ornamented with rich, quaint carvings. There was a terrace gay with white and scarlet blossoms, a broad flight of steps, ornamented A BROKEN WEDDING-RING. «S With huge vases and fine statues, leading to the gardens below. In the gardens were several superb fountains, the silvery spray of which rose high in the air and glistened in the sunlight ; the flowers were of every imaginable hue. The whole formed a picture so brilliant that even the duchess could not refrain from a cry of delight. " It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen," she said. " You would not think it was darkened by a tragedy," observed Sir Basil. *' Nor is it," said the duchess, quickly. " Life and death are everywhere side by side. You must try to for^ get ; think of the bright side." Etiquette compelled Sir Basil to give the duchess his arm as he led the. way up the broad marble steps. She looked at the statues with admiration. ** This reminds one of Italy," said Leah — " fountains, flowers and marble statues." lie turned to her eagerly. ** You like it, then ? " he asked, anxiously. " I thinly it is beautiful, and I am pleased that you agree with me." They passed into the entrance-hall, with its deep groined roof, its old-fashioned stained-glass windows and armor, its stained oak flooring and exotics. With graceful courtesy Sir Basil bade them welcome ; and Leah, looking at his face, saw that it was deadly pale. *' Was this the place," she asked, " where the acci- dent '' " Yes," he replied ; " it was here that -my poor sister rushed, enveloped in flames ; and just here where these white lilies stand, she fell down to die. By my mother's orders they are kept there. Whenever I pass, I seem to see the flying figure again, and hear my sister's cry." Leah stepped forward and stood by the white lilies. ,26 A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, " Look at me," she said, flushing slightly, ** as I stand here ; it will fill your mind with fresh thoughts." " It may well do so," thought the duchess, as she noticed the unconscious grace and beauty of the girl's atti- tude. Would he ever, as he passed through the hall where his fair young sister had met so sad a fate, forget the girl now standing there with her pleading passionate face, trying to make sweet what had been so bitter to him ? " Thank you," he replied, simply. " You have been kind to me. Miss Hatton, from the first happy moment I saw you ; you add to your goodness by giving me a pleasant memory." Leah's face showed her delight ; it was indeed pleasant to her to hear such words of commendation from him. But the duchess said to herself, " Pretty little scene — senti- mental enough ; but there is no love, Sir Basil, on your side." Then the other visitors reached the hall. There was a discussion as to the roof and the armor, and as to the date of a fine old window, and then they passed on to the library. Sir Basil made a charming and hospitable host. As the day wore on, Leah was pleased to see that his face brightened, and that several times it lost the melancholy expression that had seemed like a cloud over it. He was very attentive to her ; he lingered by her side, and showed her the chief objects of attraction. The duchess summed up the whole situation briefly. Leah had loved him at first sight ; but, if ever he learned to love her, it would be after months of friendship. That day spent at Glen was one of the happiest in Leah's life, and the memory of it was to her like a strain of sweet music in which there was no discord. A BROKKN^ WEDDU\'(j-RiNQ, j 27 CHAPTER XX. As the days passed on, the intimacy between Leah and the baronet increased. The general grew warmly attached to Sir Basil. He said — what was a great thing for him to say — that, if Heaven had blessed him with a son, he should have liked him to resemble Sir Basil. All the visitors — and they were many — admired and liked him ; he was a general favorite, and he spent far more of his time at Brentwood than at Glen. With every day that dawned, with every sun that rose and set, with every bright moon that waxed and waned, Leah's love deepened. The world was as nothing to her; she became absorbed in this one passion — it was her life, her all. There are some to whom this fatal gift of a great love is given. They are the happiest, even as they are the most miserable ; they reach the highest bliss that life offers, and they know the most bitter of its pains. No one v.'arned Leah. The duchess looked on interested, as she would have been in any trial of skill or any struggle for mastership. She did not interfere either by word or look. She knew it was useless. She never ceased wondering how it was that Leah, who had refused some of the best offers in England, had given her heart and soul at first sight to this man. Leah was hardly the same girl in Sir Basil's presence ; her face, her voice, her manner changed completely ; her love transfigured her. If he touched her dress in passing, she trembled ; if he touched her hand in greeting, she grew pale as the petal of a white lily ; when she sung to him. all the pent-up passion of her soul seemed to go out to him. Such a world of love lay in the dark eyes ! It would have been a thousand times better for Leah had she never 5 laS A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, had such a pretty theory as that of souls meeting, or filled her mind with ideal notions. No misgivings came to her, no doubt, or fear. She never asked herself whether her great love would be returned, she never asked herself how it would end ; she lived entirely in the present, each day full of happiness, of interest, of the beauty and glory of the passion that possessed her. She had forgotten that they would soon leave Brentwood, she had forgotten that they were going to Dene Abbey ; she had forgotten every- thing, except that Sir Basil was near her and that she loved him. Every dream, every wish of her life was realized ; there was no more to desire. She would have been quite content to lie down in the light of her great love and die. It seemed to her that all her life had been ordered for this. Now she had reached the haven of rest, never thinking that the storms in the haven might be greater than those on the open sea. It happens so often that a great love is lavished in vain. Sir Basil saw nothing of Leah's. He admired her exceed- ingly, but he never dreamed of loving her. He would have done anything for her ; he had the kindly affection of a brother for her ; ever since she had stood by the white lilies in the hall, in the spot where his fair young sister had died, she had to him in some measure taken that dead sister's place. He confided everything to her, told her, of all his affairs, sought her advice, was happy in her society, never rested long away from her, thought of her with con- tinual kindly affection ; but of love he never dreamed. The duchess, who had said to herself that she would not interfere, did just this one thing — she told Sir Basil of the splendid triumphs that Leah had achieved, and how she had passed through three such seasons as few even of the most brilliant beauties had ever experienced. She told of the offers of marriage made to her, and how she had re- fused them all. A BROKEN WEDDING-RING, 12^ ** Why did she refuse them ? " he asked. The duchess meant to do a kindly action when she ans- wered : "She has ideas that are peculiar for the nineteenth century ; they are, I may say, obsolete." He looked anxiously at her, she thought. " What ideas," he asked — " if my question may be ans- wered ? " " I am sure I may answer it," said the duchess. " Miss Hatton has romantic ideas that are quite out of date. Marriage, in these days, is an arrangement. She might have been Countess of Barberry if she had liked ; but she is romantic, and will never marry until she can marry for love." " That seems to me right," said Sir Basil. " I am glad you think so," returned the duchess, dryly. ** But Miss Hatton has another theory. It is this —that for every person in this world there are one love and one lover — ^half souls, she calls them, if you can understand the terms. She believes that she will recognize her half soul or lover whenever she sees him." " It is a very pretty theor}'," said Sir Basil. " I do not see why any one should object to it." He looked at her somewhat eagerly as he asked : " And has she met this ideal yet ? " ** That is a question she alone can answer. You must ask her yourself," laughed the duchess ; and she smiled to herself as she thought she had given him a very plain hint. The young baronet was far too modest to take it ; that such a peerless beauty, such a wealthy heiress, should fall in love with and find her ideal in him never occurred to him. If she had rejected many noble and great men, she was doubtless looking for some one higher. Yet what he had heard increased his affection and respect for her. He 13© ^ BROKEN WEDDING-RING, liked the idea of a girl who could make to herself an idealj and wait patiently until she met with it. How many would have yielded to the temptation of rank and wealth, and have forgotten the belief and aspirations of early girl- hood! "We have been here at Brentwood a month next Wednesday," said the duchess to Leah, one morning. " We go to Dene Abbey next week." Leah looked up at her with eyes that did not see. "Next week I" she repeated; and it seemed to her that the sunlight faded. Next week she would see Sir Basil no more. " I had forgotten it," she said slowly. " That is not very complimentary to me, Leah, nor to the ftdmirers who will come 'o Dene to meet you." " I do not want any admirers, duchess," she said. " No," laughed the duchess ; " better one true lover than a host of admirers." Leah walked to the open window, and looked out upon ihe terrace where she had stood on the morning en which Sir Basil had first come to Brentwood. The passion-flowers were still in bloom. She remembered the sudden revela- tion that had come to her when she had loc!