THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES M. : --,-; Of- ROOKS 4O 'ACIFIC AVENJfe, I ON<5 BEACH. ^ALiF BY MRS. H. B. GOODWIN, AUTHOR OF "MADGE," " SHEEBKOOKE," ETC. " Life, in perfect whole And aim consummated, is Love in sooth. As Nature's magnet-heat rounds pole with pole." BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD. 1869. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by LEE AND SHEPARD, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, 19 Spring Lane. PS CONTENTS CHAPTER r.M.B I. THE WRECK OF THE STELLA. . . .7 II. DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. .... 15 III. THE BONSECODR HOME. . . . .23 IV. DIANTIIA'S MISSION. .... 31 V. MRS. HOWELL AT HOME. . . . .39 VI. CHRISTMAS. ..... 50 VII. AT HOME AND ABROAD. . . . .60 VIII. EDNA'S CONVALESCENCE. ... 69 IX. CAPTAIN ASHMEAD. . . . . .78 X. EDNA'S RELATIVES. .... 87 XI. PLANS AND PROSPECTS. . . . .97 XII. THE DOCTOR'S LETTER. .... 108 XIII. MAKING PROGRESS. . . . . .118 XIV. THE MORNING VISITOR. .... 127 XV. MRS. HOWELL'S RETURN. .... 136 XVI. MRS. GOODENOW'S ENGAGEMENT. . . 146 XVII. RALPH GOODENOW. ..... 155 XVIII. AFTER THE PLAY. .... 164 XIX. GUARDIANS AND WARD. .... 174 XX. PASSING CLOUDS. ..... 184 (5) 731003 6 CONTENTS. CHAPTEB PAGE XXI. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. .... 194 XXII. THE SPRINGS. ..... 204 XXIII. CONNECTING LINKS. .... 214 XXIV. CARRHAVEN 224 XXV. STEPHEN. . . . . . .234 XXVI. GOING ABROAD. .... 243 XXVII. THE PARDON. . . . .253 XXVIII. FOREIGN AND HOME ITEMS. . . . 263 XXTX. AT SEA. . . . . . .273 XXX. STEPHEN'S RETURN. .... 283 XXXI. HARVESTING. . . . . .293 XXXII. MRS. ARTHUR'S POLICY. . . . 303 XXXIII. HIDDEN SPRINGS. . . . . .313 XXXIV. LEAVE-TAKING. ..... 323 XXXV. THE DOCTOR'S WARD. . . . .334 XXXVI. THE ANGELS OF LIFE AND DEATH. . . 344 XXXVII. CONCLUSION. . 353 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. CHAPTER I. THE WRECK OF THE STELLA. " Down came the storm, and smote amain The vessel in its strength ; She shuddered and plunged like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable's length." " WHAT do you make of that light, captain ? " " Hamilton Light, entrance to Carrhaven ; and would to God we were safely anchored there." "Hadn't we better hoist our signals of distress, and trust to the chance of drifting within reach of assistance ? " " I'm afraid 'tis our only chance. The rudder is so choked with ice as to be useless, and ice is making so rap- idly on the rigging and decks that our poor bark must sink beneath the weight before many hours. Hilton, order a kettle of hot coffee to be served among the men. How many are still able to work ? " " Only four ; Spencer, Ridley, Doherty, and Quinn were so badly frozen last night that they are disabled." " Poor fellows ! It might have been better for us all if we had been swept overboard by the breaker that swal- lowed our Greek boy. But, Hilton, don't let the men (7) 8 DR. UOWELL'S FAMILY. know that my hope is ebbing. Keep up their spirits, and tell them we are almost within sight of any craft that may be anchored in Carrhaven roads. I will remain on the lookout." The good bark Stella, from Smyrna, laden with fruit, and commanded by Captain Ashmead, was bound for New York ; and only twenty-four hours before this memorable morning of the 21st of December, 185-, her officers had counted, with as much assurance as sailors can ever feel, on a safe anchorage in New York harbor before night. The wind was then south, and a drenching rain had satu- rated every thread of canvas : before midday on the 20th the wind had veered to the north-west, and a blinding storm of snow had set in. So suddenly had the weather changed, and so drenched were the sails, that, despite the utmost despatch in clewing, reefing, and taking in canvas to make the vessel snug, the ice accumulated so fast, and the gale increased so rapidly, that the bark was driven to the north-east under a heavy press of frozen canvas. Then, in less than twelve hours after the storm burst upon them, the thermometer had sunk to eight degrees below zero, and the rudder and helm had become so clogged with ice that they were of no service in working the bark. A few more hours of drifting and beating, with ice ac- cumulating on the decks, and then with a sudden thump, which snapped the mainmast and lifted every man from his feet, the poor Stella struck a sand-bar not one half mile from shore. But between this shore and the disabled bark, the hungry sea was breaking in such furious waves that assistance from the land was impossible. It was twenty-four hours after the rising of the gale before the Stella struck; and now night was approaching; the breakers were sweeping the decks, the vessel striking on the head sands with sufficient force, at each concussion, THE WRECK OF THE STELLA. 9 to demolish a ship of ordinary construction ; the men worn with exertion, and nearly every one badly frost-bitten ; and no chance of relief till the tide ebbed, and scarce a ray of hope that the Stella could live an hour. As yet her hull was unbroken and tight, and Captain Ashmead, John Hilton (the first mate), and all who could use an axe were cutting away the stays, rigging, and masts to ease the hull of weight ; it would be difficult to conceive of a situation more perilous and distressing than the wreck of the Stella now presented. " Hilton, if we could succeed in launching the long-boat, is there a chance she could live in this sea ? " " 'Tis worth trying, sir." " Then, my hearties, cut away the stanchions and bul- warks, that the boat may be more easily launched ; and all who wish may accept their chances to live in it. I must bring our cabin passengers up to this deck, as the bark may bilge at any moment." And before the long-boat was ready to grapple with the angry waves, there stood upon the deck, by Captain Ash- mead's side, a woman, a young girl, and a lad, the widow and children of Nathan Shreve, whom Captain Ashmead had found nearly destitute in Smyrna, and had offered them a passage to New York in the Stella. Mrs. Shreve had distant relatives in New England, and hoping to receive assistance from them, or at least in her native land to find some honest work by which she and her children could live, she gratefully accepted Captain Ashmead's offer. "Mrs. Shreve, I think it best you should know the perils of our situation. 'Tis hardly in the power of man to save us. We think there is one chance that the long-boat may live in this sea, and there is a chance that this wreck may hold together till the tide ebbs, and assistance can reach us from the land. Which chance will you choose ? " 10 DR. HOWKLL'S FAMILY. The large, anxious eyes of the mother rested for a mo- ment on the fair face of the girl, and then turned towards the huge, foam-crested breakers upon which the long-boat was now shivering and plunging. " I will remain with yon on the wreck." " Then, my hearties, you can do nothing more to save our good ship : take your choice between her hull and the boat, and may God Almighty have mercy on you." " I shall live or die with you," answered John Hilton ; and he disappeared down the gangway, but returned immediately, bringing with him several blankets, which he wrapped around the woman and her children, and then, fastening them as securely as possible to the bulwarks, be gave his assistance to the men who had chosen the life-boat. Four sailors in turn knelt before Captain Ashmead, embracing his knees, and entreating him to share the bout with them ; but with the kindest thanks for their past services and their affectionate interest in him, he begged them to leave him, as he was determined to remain by the wreck. They succeeded in getting into the boat, but so be- numbed and frozen were their hands, so clogged with ice was their clothing, that their attempts to keep the boat's head to the sea were futile, and in less than five minutes after she struck the waves she capsized, and the four men perished in sight of the remaining sufferers upon the hull. At midnight the tide began to ebb ; the gale subsided, and the clouds drifted away, so that the moon's light now revealed to Captain Ashmead more of the horrors of his situation than the darkness had permitted him to know. The second mate had been washed overboard, his hands and limbs so frozen that he could no longer cling to the THE WKECK OP THE STELLA. 11 rigging. The bodies of two sailors, stiff and stark, re- mained bound to the bulwarks, no longer conscious of cold, and the blue eyes of little Nathan Shreve stared from their marble lids upon the foaming, cruel breakers, which could no longer appall or harm him. The last words that Captain Ashmead had heard in the darkness were little Nathan's. " Mother, I'm not so cold now, and I'm getting sleepy." " Good night, my boy." " Good night, mother ; but I do want you to kiss me." There was no reply, not even a sigh or groan to tell the agony of that mother's heart, whose lips could not reach the cold cheek of her dying boy, though scarcely three feet separated them. She had talked and sung to her children until her exhaustion no longer permitted her the use of speech ; and now her only hope was to awake with them where " there was no more sea." Only the captain, first mate, Mrs. Shreve, her daughter Edna, and two sailors, now remained upon the hull. The vessel had broken in two amidships, and every sea was reducing her to fragments. Owing to the exhaustion of their physical strength, and to the hopeless, pai-alyzed con- dition of all their senses, no words were spoken by the survivors, no groans escaped, and no sounds were heard but the heavy thump and dull grating of the wreck upon the sands, or the rasping crack of some dissevered plank, or the hissing, angry roar of the breakers, during those midnight hours, when six souls awaited in hopeless agony their release by death. But at last, after what seemed to Captain Ashmead an interminable night of watching, he knew that with the ebb tide the sea was falling, and he felt there was a chance that the remnant of the hull would hold together until assist- ance could reach them. 12 DE. HOWELL'S FAMILY. It was now early morning, and in the gray light he could clearly distinguish a brig, securely anchored in Carrhaven roads, not a half mile distant. O, if she had seen their signals of distress, and had been waiting for the ebb tide to give her a chance to attempt their rescue! Captain Ashmead was almost too benumbed and exhausted for speech; but, rallying as cheerful a voice as possible, he called out, " Courage, courage, my good men and women ! Take heart ; I believe there's a chance for us yet ! " And in a mimite more, with his eyes still fastened on the brig, he exclaimed, "Thank God ! Yonder ship is getting out her long-boat. She has seen our peril, and is coming to save us." John Hilton responded, " Ay, ay, sir ; pray Heaven she may not be too late." Edna called, faintly, "Dear mother, we may yet see land ; " and receiving no reply, again she called, " Wake up, mother; there's hope for us." The blankets in which she was wrapped were so thickly encased in ice she could not turn to see that her mother had reached a haven of rest. Words cannot describe the agonizing suspense of the next two hours, while the brig's long-boat was hovering within a hundred yards of the wreck, not daring to approach nearer, lest she should be swallowed up ; and meantime the wreck was fast breaking up and settling in the sand. And just then it seemed to Captain Ashmead a heavenly interposition a large field of ice drifted by the wreck to windward, and kept the sea from breaking; and while it was passing, all within ten minutes' space of time, the boat's crew from the brig pulled in alongside the wreck. The two sailors had just enough strength to throw themselves into the boat. Captain Ash- mead and John Hilton were too much benumbed to cut the ropes which secured Edna to the bulwarks, and two THE WKECK OF TUB STELLA. 13 men from the boat, with great difficulty, boarded the wreck, and lifted her over the side to the arms of two more strong sailors. She was immediately followed by Captain Ash- mead and his mate, and the poor, stark, frozen bodies of Mrs. Shreve and her boy were left to find a burial with the wreck of the Stella. There was no other way, fpr every second was precious, and the long-boat could be freighted only with those whom there was hope of saving. " My mother and Nathan, Captain Ashmead ! you have left them," cried Edna. " My poor girl, they are already at rest. The sea will bury your dead." " Frozen ! Dead ! And I am alone in this cruel world ! O captain, throw me overboard," moaned the poor girl. And the only two living souls that even knew her name were so nearly unconscious from cold and exhaustion as to be unable to soothe her agony with words. In the comfortable cabin of the brig Champion every attention was bestowed upon the survivors of the Stella that the generous kindness of the brig's officers could suggest. The gale had so far subsided by midday on the 22d that the Champion was got under way, and her captain made all possible despatch to place his patients under the care of a physician. Hanthrop being the nearest port where suitable medical attendance could be found, he made for that place, and arrived there in less than twelve hours after leaving Can-haven roads. The survivors of the Stella were at once conveyed to the " Bonsecour Home," and Dr. Stephen Howell was called to attend them ; but as only two of them, Captain Ashmead and Edna Shreve, will find further place in this story, we will simply say that John Hilton escaped with the loss of one foot and 14 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. three fingers. Poor Dick Bryan lost both feet and one hand, and Michael Reardon one limb to the knee, and one hand ; and in the Marine Asylum, where they have found a home, they still relate to wondering, sympathizing mates the horrors of the wreck of the Stella. DB. HOWELL'S FAMILY. 15 CHAPTER IL DE. HOWELL'S FAMILY. " She doeth little kindnesses Which most leave undone, or despise; For nought that sets one heart at ease, And giveth happiness or peace, Is low esteemed in her eyes." LOWELL. DE. HOWELL sat with his wife aud children in as pleas- ant a parlor as a contented and quiet heart could ask for. It was not embellished with expensive furniture nor costly pictures, but the harmonious adaptation of every article in the room to the needs and tastes of its occupants made it a most attractive place. Books, rare engravings, and flower- ing plants met the eye on all sides, while a bright coal fire in an open grate gave a cheerfully warm welcome to the doctor when he came in from his evening round of calls. "We have the prospect of delightfully cold, frosty weather for Christmas," said Diantha Howell, the doctor's daughter, more for the purpose of drawing her father into conversation than because she deemed the remark original or worthy of utterance. " Who ever heard of delightfully cold weather ? " queried Mrs. Howell, with a shrug of her shoulders and a peculiar tone of voice, telling a sensitive ear that the doctor's wife had a mind of her own, and never echoed another's opinions if she could find a shadow of an excuse for differing. "Why, mother, it sometimes seems to me as if the 16 DR. HOAVELL'S FAMILY. cheerful comfort and warmth of our home were greatly en- hanced by frost upon the windows and stinging cold out- side. Christmas would be stale and flat if it came in August ; and then in a hot, sultry day we should lose the pleasure of carrying mittens, and mufflers, and jackets, and shawls to our poor." And Diantha cast an admiring glance at the generous pile of warm things upon her work-table, the larger part of which were the products of her own deft hands. " You forget, child, that if we had warm weather all the time, your poor people wouldn't need those presents." " That's true ; but they might need things instead which wouldn't be half so pleasant to make or give. Now, the most agreeable part of Christmas for me will be the distri- bution of these gifts to-morrow, because I know each one of my poor people's wants so well, and have made and se- lected these articles especially for them." " How do you know but Mrs. Jenks will have half a dozen sacques and sontags given her, besides those which you have spent so much precious time upon ? " asked Mrs. Howell. " And Tommy Jenks will swap his mittens and scarf for a jackknife with the first boy that wants to trade," added Miss Louise Goodenow, with a faint echo of her mother's tone and manner. It may be as well to say here, that, although Diantha was the doctor's eldest child, inheriting many qualities of his heart and brain, her half-sister, Louise Goodenow, was Mrs. Howell's eldest and favorite. Mrs. Howell was a young widow with a handsome face, and a charming little girl, and a pretty fortune of her own, when Dr. Howell was called in to attend the child. He found little Lou seriously ill with scarlatina, and the young mother pale and interesting in her widow's weeds. DR. no WELL'S FAMILY. ~ 17 Woman rarely looks more lovely than when ministering to the necessities of pain and suffering, and the anxious love for her child which shone in Mrs. Goodenow's bright eyes added the charm of expression to a face that was beautiful in coloring and features. Dr. Howell had an artist's eye and a susceptible nature ; and what sooner stirs a generous, manly soul than the sight of a beautiful wo- man, suffering, grieved, and alone in the world ? What wonder, when there was no longer need for pro- fessional calls, that Dr. Howell accepted the grateful moth- er's invitation to call as a friend ? Then came the winter evenings, and the young doctor had more leisure than was conducive to his professional reputation, and Mrs. Goodenow was fond of poetry, and the doctor read well. It was so pleasant for Mrs. Goodenow to find a friend in the physician who had probably saved the life of her darling child and such a friend, with a nature tender, generous, and sympathetic enough to understand her grief, that as a matter of course she told him the story of her life; the sweet, beautiful dream of wedded happiness which she enjoyed with her dear, departed Arthur, who lived scarcely a year after their marriage, and was called away before little Lou's eyes had looked upon his noble face. The story was so brokenly and touchingly told, inter- rupted so frequently with tears, which were soon dried, that the third time its pathetic variations fell upon the doctor's ears, the strongholds of his heart yielded, and the beautiful widow's tears flowed no longer. Before little Lou had counted the days of her second summer, her mamma had laid aside the " grief that boiled over in billows of crape" had found white satin and tulle, orange flowers, and delicate shades more in harmony 2 18 DK. HOWELL'S FAMILY. with her peculiar style of features and complexion than the sombre hue of her serge and crape ; and so her widow's weeds and grief were buried beneath the becoming bridal trousseau of Mrs. Stephen Howell. It was not a pleasant awakening from the doctor's first sweet dream of love, to find that beneath the fair exterior of his wife there was much selfishness, much worldly am- bition and pride, little intelligence and less love. But the awakening was mercifully slow, and his vision was not cleared from the cobwebs of fancy until the father's love for his first-born child came to soothe the husband's disap- pointment. Soon after the birth of his child the doctor's heart had been awakened, enlarged, and purified by the power of divine love ; his life was a beautiful illustration of that wisdom which is " first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good works." His practice was also increasing rapidly, and the duties of his profession and the love for his child left in his heart little room for repinings. Twenty years have passed since Dr. Howell took the beautiful widow and her little Louise to his heart and home, and we now raise the curtain and reveal the sancti- ties of that home only to show by contrast the beauty of that charity which " sufiereth long and is kind " to por- tray that pure religion which enables its possessor "to keep himself unspotted from the world." Dr. Howell is fifty years of age ; his face much improved by that expression which intelligent culture, charity, earnest work, and victory over self leave, despite his gray hairs and furrowed cheeks. Looking at him, you would see only the noble, generous manhood stamped upon his face, and would forget to notice whether his hair were thin, his beard gray, or his features regular. But you could DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. 19 not fail to observe that Mrs. Howell's beauty was in a most remarkable state of preservation, considering she was the mother of the elegant Miss Goodenow. Her maturity had none of the sweet Indian summer charm which we some- times see in faces softened by silver hair, subdued by sor- row, and elevated by thought. You were at once made conscious and somehow you intuitively felt that the lady herself was keenly alive to the agreeable fact that Mrs. Dr. Howell was well dressed and fine-looking. She was a professing Christian, and if all things favored, went to church every Sabbath morning ; paid monthly sums to the charitable institutions of the church; and when an old garment was no longer serviceable, she gave it to the Dor- cas Society, to be made over for some poor person. All her charities flowed through the legitimate church chan- nels. She did not approve of hunting up poor, worthless creatures, whom nobody knew anything about, to spend time and money upon. Miss Louise Goodenow was very like her mother, pos- sessing even greater physical beauty, with the added charm of youth and accomplishments. She did many things well and gracefully, as indeed she well might do, living as she did for her own selfish gratification, and studying no one's pleasure but her own. Having a decided taste for music, she had cultivated it until she had acquired an artistic style of execution quite above the comprehension of com- mon minds ; and she rarely condescended to play a popular, favorite air for the pleasure of those who could not ap- preciate classical music. Then her reading and pronuncia- tion of French were almost equal to a Parisian's; at least Monsieur Sonrelle had often assured her so. She crocheted and embroidered unexceptionably, and always had some dainty bit of work ready to take up if her practice was dis- turbed by callers, some of whom were envious enough to 20 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. affirm that this industrious habit was only a pretext for showing to advantage a pretty, white hand. There were certain seasons of the year when Miss Goodenow was re- ligiously inclined, and went to church so becomingly and fashionably attired that many of her less favored sisters forgot the object for which they were assembled, in admi- ration of this well-dressed worshipper. Miss Goodenow had been confirmed, and from that happy day had confided the interests of her soul entirely to the church. Diantha "a horrible, heathenish name for a girl," Mrs. Howell had affirmed, when the doctor begged to name his soft, pink bit of humanity for his mother. But his wishes prevailed, and the little one was christened by the father's love Diantha, Daisy, or Di, just as his mood might dictate ; and now, when the owner of this name is in- troduced to my readers, she is nineteen years of age, three years younger than her half-sister, and so fre- quently overlooked in the presence of that elegant young lady, that she has doubtless acquired the habit of forgetting self, as there never lived a young maiden who seemed less conscious of personal attractions and merits. If she has any beauty, it is rather the effect of soul than of features, and cannot be described ; you will catch glimmerings of her style here and there, as the incidents of this story shall develop her character. She is not accomplished, like Miss Goodenow, but does a little of everything so well that she is constantly running at the beck and call of each member of the family. Stephen Howell, Jr., an intelligent, healthy young sopho- more, overflowing with animal spirits, sentiment, poetry, and fun, two years younger than Diantha, and not only her pride and pet, but her especial " thorn in the flesh," com- pletes the group gathered around the doctor's parlor fire on the evening of the 23d of December, 185-. DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. 21 Diantha stood silent for some minutes after the rebuffs she had received from her mother and Louise, looking thoughtfully and lovingly upon her pile of Christinas gifts, while Mrs. Howell crocheted with an energy that be- tokened displeasure, and the elegant Miss Goodenow studied the fashion-plate of a new magazine. " Stephen, you must help me in the distribution of my gifts to-inorrow," said Diantha, turning to her brother, who was lost in the pages of " David Copperfield." "Must, a word which, used by the goddess Diana, has no variation of mood or tense ; I shall have no choice but to obey." " O, thank you ! and remember, I must have a horse and sleigh at the door as early as two o'clock." " Your wishes are my law," answered Stephen, with a mock military salute. " Daisy, you must not make such a disposal of your time that you cannot give me two hours to-morrow." " I am never so busy, father, but I can make time for your wants. What hours will suit you best ? " " From ten till twelve in the morning. I want you to go with me to the Bonsecour Home ; I have some difficult work to do there, and your strong little hands can help me. There is a child there that needs you." " I will be ready, father." " Now, doctor, don't take Di where there's any danger from infectious diseases. It is bad enough for you to go to infirmaries, hospitals, retreats, and houses of refuge ; but to drag a delicate young lady into contact with all sorts of low, worthless, vulgar, and diseased people, is shocking." Mrs. Howell's looks and tones expressed more disgust than her words; and Miss Goodenow's echo of " Very shock- ing ! I wouldn't put myself in the way of seeing so much filth and, suffering for any money," added emphasis to the maternal disapproval. 22 DE. HOWELL'S FAMILY. The doctor's face showed that he had buckled on an armor that was proof against opposition. " I'll take good care of Daisy ; there's a poor little waif from the wreck Stella, who needs just the kind of comfort that Daisy can give. Did you see the account of the wreck in the morning papers ? " There was no response excepting from Di ; she had seen the account. And then the doctor told the story as he had gathered it from Captain Ashmead, with many touch- ing details not found in the " Morning News " told it so graphically, and with such hearty sympathy, that Mrs. Howell's crocheting dropped when he described little Nathan's last good night. The doctor's wife had shed some natural tears over two little graves ; her grief some- what modified by remembering that, "whom the gods love die young." Miss Louise laid down her fashion-book and made appropriate exclamations. Diantha's brown eyes overflowed with tears, and the young sophomore found it necessary to take observations of the weather from behind the window curtains. THE BONSECOUK HOME. 23 CHAPTER III. THE BONSECOUB HOME. " I count this thing to be grandly true That a noble deed is a step toward8 God, Lifting the soul from the common sod To a purer air and a broader view." J. G. HOLLAND. THE day before Christinas was, as Diantha had predicted, delightfully cold ; but wrapped warmly and walking vigor- ously by her father's side, she looked as if she could defy the winter's frost in any region south of Greenland. The doctor was in one of his silent moods, and his daughter knew by one glance at? his face that some patient was giving him anxious thought and study. He had no eyes for the gay Christinas wreaths which decorated the handsome houses on Hawthorn Avenue and Locust Street ; never turned to look at the skaters on the common, and gave no heed to the passers-by, even when accosted by a friend's good morning. But Diantha had eyes and ears for all, and put a dou- ble sweetness and cordiality into her smiles of recognition, because of her father's abstraction. Her quick sympathies flowed out in harmony with the brisk, merry, cheerful life of the morning. She stopped once or twice to touch the dimpled cheek of a child, and once to pick up an unfortu- nate urchin, whose feet had gone astray, and with quick steps she rescued the apple lost by the boy in his fall, and restored it to the red, chubby hand of the owner with a 24 DK. HOWELL'S FAMTLY. kind, encouraging pat upon his shoulder, and an assurance that he was " all right now." Diantha was no stranger at the Bonsecour Home, and as she passed from room to room with her father, her bright face and hopeful words seemed to infuse new life to each patient ; many voices blessed her, and many worn, pale faces were lighted with grateful emotion as she passed along. " Where shall I find the child you spoke of, father ? " " In the west wing ; but I'm not ready for you to go there yet. Come with me first to the operating room. Is your pulse cool and steady this morning ? Give me your hand ; you are a strong little woman, Daisy." " I hope I can be both brave and strong when such traits are needed." Every assistant in the Home knew that Dr. Howell's time was precious, and his work was usually ready for him when he entered the operating room. His words to his patients were few, but hearty; to his assistants, plain, decided, and peremptory. There was no hesitation of voice or manner about Dr. Howell ; his keen, clear 'brown eyes seemed to read at a glance the necessities of the case, and the means to be used for the relief of the sufferer. " Diantha, I am going to introduce you to the captain of the wrecked Stella, and if amputation of one of his limbs is necessary, I want you to hold one of his hands, and cheer him with your words and presence." The doctor's long practice had taught him that a wo- man's presence by the couch of suffering gave strength and courage to the patient. " Good morning, Captain Ashmead ; I've brought my daughter to see you." " Thank you ; Miss Howell is welcome." The doctor's good morning was hardly uttered before he THE BONSECOUR HOME. 25 was removing bandages from the captain's limbs, which had been badly frost-bitten, talking cheerfully meanwhile. "Ay, captain, you'll come out from the perils of that wreck not much the worse for the wear and tear. We shall save your hands, but one foot must go ; and the sooner we get rid of the offending member, the better it will be for the whole body. This young lady, who has a marvellous amount of strength when circumstances demand it, will stand by your couch and hold your hands. Shall Moore administer chloroform while I work ? " " No ; I have no fear of pain, or of losing self-control ; but won't the sight of such an operation be too great a shock to Miss Ho well?" " She will stand with her back to the work and her eyes upon your face, so as to give me warning if you attempt to faint ; and besides, Diantha has been made familiar with all kinds of suffering. I can trust her." Diantha, fortified with hartshorn and stimulants for the use of the patient, moved to the side of the couch which her father assigned her, and took one of the captain's rough, bronzed hands in both her own ; she lent him the light of her clear, truthful eyes, and the sound of her soft, musical voice/ There were hope, strength, and courage in both eyes and voice for the sufferer. Dr. Howell's work was quickly performed, with a rare union of skill, precision, and tenderness; and when it was completed, he turned and took his daughter's place, saying, "You've borne it bravely, my good friend, and you should be very thankful to escape with the loss of one foot. In these days of cork limbs and modern improve- ments, such a loss is not so serious as it was formerly. I'll look in again upon you to-night, and report the condition of Hilton to you. Keep cool and quiet, and if there's any- 26 DE. HOWKLL'S FAMILY. thing this little woman can do by way of reading or writing letters for you, she's most happy to be of service." Diantha's eyes turned gratefully to her father for a mo- ment, while she mutely thanked him for his appreciation of her willingness ; and then, with a charming blending of womanly dignity and girlish timidity, she assured the captain of her wish to serve him. Captain Ashmead attempted to express his gratitude, but Dr. Howell enforced silence, telling him Diantha was neither to read nor write for him until all danger of fever had passed. And then he led his daughter from the room, taking her to the suffering child in the west wing, and bidding her remain until called for. What hungry, eager eyes met Diantha's when she bent over the couch of the poor li ttle girl ! " She's been wandering and unconscious all night, Miss Howell," answered the nurse, when questioned by Diantha about her charge ; " but I reckon she's sensible this morn- ing. I'm uncommon glad you've come, for there's some- thing more the matter with the child than fever. She has been here since yesterday morning, crying and fretting her- self into this state ; and it's my honest opinion she hasn't had a minute's sleep, nor swallowed a mouthful of food, since she was taken off the wreck. Do you know if she's a foreigner ? " " No ; I have asked no questions about the child ; please go and prepare me a bowl of arrowroot, nurse, and let me see if I cannot persuade her to eat." Diantha's tender hands were at once employed about the child, bathing her face and smoothing her light, tangled curls, while she talked to her in that gentle, winning way which none knew better how to use than the doctor's daughter. THE BCKsSECouB HOME. 27 " We shall soon have you running about ngain, my little girl. What is your name ? " " Edna Shreve ; but I never want to get well." " You think so now because you are weak and suffering, and you miss your dear mamma so much. I've heard all about the dreadful wreck, and I've come to help you and comfort you." "I don't want to be helped, and nobody can comfort me," sobbed the child. "Let me see what I can do for you, my dear. Who knows but I can help you to be as blithe and merry as a bird, again ? " "You didn't know my mamma nor Nathan, and you can't know how dreadful it is to be all alone in this world." " I know it must be very dreary, lonely, and sad for you, Edna; but somebody has promised to care for orphans. Do you know who?" " Perhaps I do ; but He hasn't cared for me, or He wouldn't have let the cruel sea rob me of all I had." " We will talk about that when you are better. If God has taken your mamma and your brother, He has sent me to you to be your friend, and I promise to love you and care for you; can you do one little thing to please me?" Diantha had drawn the little girl up in her arms, and was looking at her with eyes so full of loving entreaty, that the child, who had resisted every effort of Mrs. Wyman to make her comfortable, said she would try. "I was almost sure you would; little girls are generally very willing to do what I think is best arid right. Now take one tea-spoonful of this warm arrowroot gruel." Edna complied, but her hysterical sobs made it almost impossible for her to swallow, and Diantha saw that the nervous excitement of her system must be allayed before nourishment could avail. She held the sobbing child 28 I>B. HOWELL'S FAMILY. against her bosom, soothing her with tender words and caresses, until Dr. Howell had completed his professional round of calls, and came to look after his little patient. He needed but a minute's survey of her quivering, fever- flushed face, with his fingers upon the throbbing veins of her forehead. "Has she taken any nourishment, nurse?" asked the doctor. " Not a drop from my hands, sir ; Miss Howell got her to take a spoonful." "Then Miss Howell must persuade her to take this powder; and you must give her a warm sponge bath im- mediately. Keep her head cool, and give her your most tender care." Edna's sobs had grown less frequent and hysterical, but it was with great difficulty she succeeded in swallowing the spoonful of water in which the powder had been dissolved. " We must leave you now, Edna ; but if you will try to be quiet and do what Mrs. Wyman thinks is best for you, this young lady shall come again to-morrow." " Yes, Edna, I will come to-morrow, and every day while you are sick ; and I will try to come this evening and bring you some nice nourishment, and hold you again in my arms, and perhaps sing for you, if you are fond of singing ? " The child made no reply, and it was pitiful to see the worn, grieved, hungry look of the face she buried in the pillow when Diantha laid her back upon the couch. " I have no more work of this kind for you to-day, Di, and I hope I am not taxing your strength nor your sympathies too severely," said the doctor, when they had gained the street. " It does me good to share your work, father, and to feel that you can trust me, and that I'm of some use in the world." THE BONSECOUK HOME. 29 "In my opinion there's no surer safeguard against disease than occupation for mind and body. Concentra- tion of thought upon one's own selfish gratification dwai'fs the intellect, blunts the moral sense, and enfeebles the body, while a moderate amount of work for others, an interest in their pursuits, and a conscientious endeavor so to live that the world may recognize in us the spirit of Him who went about doing good, will lift one's soul into a } >urer atmosphere." They walked in silence for some min- utes through the gay, bustling throng that now filled the streets; but the tempting displays in the shop windows and the festive preparations for Christmas could not banish from their thoughts the sad picture of suffering at the Bonsecour Home. " I wish we had that poor Edna Shreve in one of our quiet chambers," said the doctor, when they had entered a street where conversation could be resumed. "O, father, 'tis just what I've been longing for, ever since I saw the state she was in. Mrs. Wyman's ways are not soothing and gentle enough for a child so delicate, nervous, and torn with grief as Edna is. Do you think we might manage it ? " " There are it's to be considered ; your mother will object, and not without reason. She will be unwilling that so much care should fall on you; and that her systematic housekeeping should be thrown into disorder will really be a trial to her nerves. Jane and Ellen will be very likely to send in a 'notice ' if we take a sick child into our family ; but you needn't give the subject anymore thought. I'll consider it carefully, and talk it over with your mother this evening." But the subject had taken such a deep hold on Diantha's thoughts that it was impossible to thrust it aside ; and so preoccupied was she in thinking over ways and means for 30 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. the preservation of Edna, that on reaching home her mother noticed her silence, and remarked thereon, "Diantha is all worn out with her morning's work, doctor; you'll ruin her health by taking her to witness scenes of suffering that are depressing her spirits and keep- ing her sympathies constantly excited. Such employment is entirely unsuited to her years and to her position in society. Now, Di, I want you to go to your room and rest, instead of taking your presents to the Jenks family." It would not have been in harmony with Mrs. Ho well's character if she had permitted an occasion like this to pass without expressing her disapprobation. Dr. Howell saw the look of disappointment that crept into Diantha's face, and came to her rescue. " Let me prescribe for Daisy, my dear. She had better go to her room and lie down tor a half hour, and Jane must send her up a cup of hot coffee and a lunch ; and after that I think she might be allowed to go out and distribute her gifts. The ride, the fresh air, and the pleasure of making others happy, will be the best tonic for her." " She'll take your prescription, of course. I didn't expect my advice would have a straw's weight. But I would like to know what she's been doing this morning." "Only taking a step towards that heaven which we both hope to gain, Mary; and for her authority and encourage- ment she has this injunction : 'But to do good and to com- municate forget not ; for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.' " DIANTUA'S MISSION. 31 CHAPTER IV. DIANTHA'S MISSION. " Blessing she is : God made her so : Aiid deeds of week-day holiness Fall from her noiseless as the snow; Nor hath she ever chauced to know That aught were easier than to bless." LOWELL. " WHAT new victim of the world's rough usage has kept you a half hour from your appointment, and, as a matter of course, deprived a dozen poor wretches of a half hour's pleasure in the possession of this heap of rubbish, which you call Christmas gifts ? " " Have I really kept you waiting, Stephen ? I'll tell you what made me late after you've helped carry these pack- ages to the sleigh, and we are fairly off." " Grant an ell and yield a yard," answered Stephen ; and with comical grimaces, and protestations against being made a porter of, he helped his sister fill the sleigh with her "rubbish." She understood his feigned reluctance well enough to know that the service he was rendering her was not with- out its pleasure for him. "Well, Di, now that we are 'fairly off,' tell me what made you late, and what has given your eyes such a wist- ful, absent kind of stare, as if your vision reached beyond this mundane sphere." 32 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. "Now, Stephen, come down from your sophomoric stilts, and talk common sense." " Thank you for presuming that I have the ability to do so ; and now for the reasons." " You heard father say that a young girl was saved from the wreck of the Stella ? Well, I've been to see her, and she is such a forlorn, miserable, suffering little creature that my heart aches for her." " That organ you are pleased to call your heart ought to be proof against pain. What does the * creature ' look like ? " " Her face and eyes were so red with weeping, and so swollen from the effects of her exposure in that dreadful storm, that one could hardly imagine how she would look .if she were in a healthy condition of mind and body ; but I should think she was a fair, slender, dark-eyed girl, with a great quantity of light, tangled hair." " In fact, quite a heroine for a romancer. You know girls in novels always have a great deal of hair especially in women's novels : you make her so much of a character that I can see ' Her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise.' And I dare say, like the skippers daughter, ' Blue are her eyes as the fairy flax, And her cheeks like the dawn of day.' How old may this wonderful maiden be ? " " Not far from twelve, I think ; but you will not hear anything more about her while you are in such a trifling mood." "What injustice! to suppose I could be otherwise than serious, when your description has brought so vividly DIANTHA'S MISSION. 33 before me the ill-fated maiden of the ' Wreck of the Hes- perus.' I shall never be understood." " That will be no great loss to the world ; but please try. to understand me now. I wish you to turn your horse's head into the next street on the right, and draw rein before a low, brown house ; and then you will remain in the sleigh while I deliver these packages." " Straight forward and pointed as an arrow from Diana's quiver should be ; I shall perform your royal bidding." " This is the place ; I won't detain you long ; " and Diantha, with as many packages as she could well carry, disappeared within the brown house. It would be difficult to find a more touching picture of poverty than was presented to Diantha's vision when the door was opened to admit her into a small room, not more than twelve by fourteen feet, containing eight persons. Extreme poverty usually presents a hard, repellent aspect, not only in the faces of its victims, but in all their sur- roundings. But in this Jenks family its heavy hand had not crushed out all hope all regard to outward appear- ances ; it had left upon the face of the mother, and the children who huddled around her, apathetic, appealing look, as if asking one's sympathy, rather than substantial aid. It was an American family, one saw at a glance ; their nationality was not only stamped upon their regular features, pallid complexions, shrewd eyes, and thin lips, but in the shrinking sensitiveness with which they ac- cepted charity a pride which would almost sooner starve th;in beg, and which used every device for concealing the most threadbare side of their hard lot. The cleanliness of the room and its occupants, from the patched but scrupulously clean garments of the mother and children to the neatly-scrubbed floor and stove, all told the story of Xew England birth and pride. 3 34 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. Three or four wooden chairs, a table, and a rude couch comprised the furniture ; and upon this couch lay the father of the family a man not more than forty years of age, prostrated by rheumatism, which, depriving him of the power of locomotion, seemed grudgingly to allow him the use of his hands. These were employed, when not too much swollen or stiffened with pain, in making baskets, crude and homely in their manufacture, and used for home- ly purposes. The scanty products of the sale of these baskets and of the mother's needle were the only income of the family ; rent, fuel, food, and clothing for eight persons to be obtained with such scanty means, and only when circumstances favored, did the united earnings of both parents amount to six dollars per week. They hired two small rooms, for which they were obliged to pay four dol- lars per month ; one of these rooms was the sleeping apart- ment of six members of the family, while the two boys found "tired Nature's sweet restorer" on a sack of straw in the common dwelling-room. Mrs. Jenks would still have been in the glory of her summer-time had she not been prematurely aged with sor- row, sickness, and hard work. Now, at thirty-five, her hair is thin and lined with gray, her cheeks pale and hol- low, and heavy purple shadows lie under her dark eyes. During the fifteen years of her married life she has given birth to eight children ; two having died in infancy, four little scrofulous heirs of poverty and labor stand shivering and shrinking around their mother when Diantha enters the room, while one little cripple is held in her arms, and a rude wicker basket contains the baby. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Jenks. I hope you are all com- fortably well to-day." "Thank you, Miss Howell. Mr. Jenks is rather more poorly than usual this week ; he hasn't been able to use his DIANTHA'S MISSION. 35 hands since Monday. The baby has been ailing, and little Susie has the influenza." Diantha deposited her bundle upon the table, went to Mr. Jenks's couch, and spoke a few cheery, hearty words to him, listened kindly to his wailing account of the week's pain and disappointment, and then turned to the expectant faces of the children, kissing one, kindly patting another, and speaking a pleasant word to all. Then she drew Mrs. Jenks aside, and with delicate tact gathered from her a history of their most pressing wants. " Indeed, we haven't a whole dollar in the house, Miss Ho well, nor so much as a hod full of coal ; but Tommy and Fred have been promised some baskets of chips from the carpenter's shop on Ferry Street, and they're going direct- ly for them." " What about the rent ? " "We are owing for the last month, and another month will be due the last day of the year. We have not tasted meat, nor tea, nor coffee, for more than a week ; but we have had plenty of potatoes and a little meal. Mrs. Metcalf sent me a barrel of potatoes the day before Thanksgiving: she is very kind to me, and gives me a deal of sewing to do; but she's close in her pay for work, and doesn't always remem- ber that poor folks need their pay as soon as the work is done : she's been owing me five dollars nearly a month, and I haven't dared ask her for it, because she gave me the potatoes and some clothes for Tommy and Fred, that her boys had cast off." " Bessie and Mary didn't come to my class yesterday." " No ; they were obliged to stay in because they lent their shoes to Tommy and Fred, who went for chips. And, Miss Howell, I'm sorry to tell you that I can't make them comfortable or decent to go~on the street again while the cold weather lasts. Bessie must go out to bring and 36 DE. HOWELL'S FAMILY. carry my work and her father's, and though she's patient and never frets, I often find her crying because her life is so different from that of other girls." " Have you as much sewing as you can do at present?" "More than I can do while Harvey and the children are so miserable. Susie is so fretful with pain that I'm often obliged to walk the room half the night with her; and you know she is scarcely out of the arms of Bessie, Mary, or myself through the day, and baby is so cross with her teething, we have a hard time of it." "You must, indeed, Mrs. Jenks. Til ask father to look in this evening ; perhaps he can give the childix-n some- thing to relieve and quiet them." " He has taken a deal of trouble for us, and done us a world of good that we can never pay him for." "Never mind that. You shall see me again the day after to-morrow, and I'll send Robert around with a basket in the morning. I hope you'll find the Christmas gifts I have brought useful." " Nothing you could bring would be amiss, there are so many mouths to feed, and provisions and coal are so high. O, Miss Howell, I don't want to trouble you, and I'm very grateful for all you do ; but how we shall get through the winter God only knows." , " Please let the thought comfort you that God does know. I will try to interest some charitable ladies in your affairs. Good by." Only one more room where Diantha is a frequent visitor shall reveal its hitherto unwritten history to our readers. It is in a wooden tenement block on Ferry Street, half basement or cellar; on one side only light enters through small, patched panes of glass, so scantily that one asks if heaven's light is a luxury too expensive for God's poor. There is a decent-looking bed in the room, an old chest of DIANTHA'S MISSION. 37 drawers, a small pine table, three wooden chairs, and a cracked cooking stove ; and as near the old stove as two chairs can be drawn sit the two old occupants of this room, sisters, who have nearly counted their threescore and ten years. So remarkably alike are they in features and expression, or, rather, in want of expression, that they are often mistaken the one for the other by the few Christian friends who cross their humble threshold. Poor in this world's goods, weak in body and feeble in intel- lect, yet they are rich in hope and faith, and in that knowledge " whose price is above rubies." Knitting coarse leggins and mittens for teamsters, and making the cheap cotton overalls worn by laborers, furnish employ- ment for their hard, bony hands, and brings them in an occasional dollar; but their main dependence is the chanty of a few benevolent ladies. Diantha's presence brought warmth and light to the poor old dames, and the sound of her step and voice was music to their uneducated ears. "Bless you, Miss Howell! come with your hands full, I'll warrant. It's like you to think of us on a day like this," exclaimed Martha Keith, whose tongue was a trifle more fluent than her sister's. And as they touched the woollen garments that Diantha's hand had fashioned for them, tears dropped from their faded eyes into wrinkles, that looked as if they had been the channels of bitter waters ; but the tears shed over Diantha's useful gifts did not deepen the wrinkles in the withered faces of Martha and Sylvia Keith. In reply to Miss Howell's kind inquiries after their welfare, Martha's gratitude found expression in words as well as tears. " We are toler'bly well, thank you, Miss Howell. Silvy has the rheumatiz now and then, and I have my old cough, but we're a deal better off than thousands of others ; and so long as we can hobble out to rueetin' on Sundays, and to 38 DE. HOWELL'S FAMILY. prayer meetin's on week days, we're thankful, and have nothin' to complain of. Ay, miss, it's meat and drink for poor old souls like us to hear Elder Dinsmore preach ; and, as I often tell Silvy, Deacon Sage's prayers carry us e'enamost to heaven." "You have decided to remain in this poor room through the winter, rather than share the comforts of the Old Ladies' Home." "Well, yes, I may say we have. You see, miss, the Home is so far from our meetin', and we'd rather go without some comforts for our bodies than starve our souls ; and besides, we are only used to each other, and we're wonted to this place. I hope you won't think we are ungrateful to the ladies who offered us a place at the Home." " No, Martha ; but we think you'd be more comfortable there. You must always let us know when you are need- ing anything." The blessings of the poor old women followed the young one when she left them, and if her hands were wearied and her brain oppressed with thought when she returned to her father's fireside, her heart had been enriched, and a round of that ladder gained by which the soul rises " to a purer air and a broader view." MBS. HOWELL AT HOME. 39 CHAPTER V. MBS. HOWELL AT HOME. " The love of praise Fills life with fine amenities. Not all Who live nave pleasant tempers, and not all The gift of gracious manners, or the love Of nobler motive, higher meed than praise." J. G. HOLLAND. " DIANTHA and Stephen not in yet ? " asked Mrs. Howell, glancing around her well-appointed dining-room as if in search of the delinquents. Dr. Howell was, apparently, too deeply absorbed in the columns of the evening paper to answer her query, and the . lady somewhat energetically pulled the bell-rope. When Jane answered the summons, she ordered dinner to be served immediately. "Do we dine alone, Mary?" asked the doctor, when the agreeable odor of hot soup reminded him of his physical necessities. " Yes ; Louise has gone to dine with the Metcalfs, and Diantha and Stephen have not returned from their mis- sion to the poor. I must say I'm glad of an opportunity to speak with you alone, though I don't suppose you'll allow my ideas of what is right to influence you." " Why, Mary, I'm always open to conviction. What's wrong now ? " " The truth is, doctor, I'm not at all satisfied with the manner in which Diantha is spending her time, and I 40 DE. HOWELL'S FAMILY. know she has your encouragement. She was invited three days ago to visit the Metcalfs with Louise this evening, but wrote a note yesterday declining their invitation, be- cause of her numerous engagements for to-day. And what were her engagements? Nothing more nor less than this hospital visiting, and a round of calls on poor people. It is impossible to make her see the importance of cultivating the acquaintance of such people as she would meet at the Metcalfs'. Then she is neglecting her music, her French, and all the accomplishments that are indispensable to young ladies nowadays." "I'm sorry you can find so little to approve in Daisy. She seems to me quite accomplished enough for a girl of her years. She certainly finds time to read some excellent books. She converses well, and gratifies my taste in sing- ing ; and then we couldn't ask for a more affectionate or obedient child." "I'm not complaining of any lack of affection or obedi- ence ; and yet I think if these traits were stronger in Di's character, she'd endeavor to conform herself more to. my wishes. What gives me most anxiety is, to see her natu- rally fine talents lying dormant or running to waste. You say her singing satisfies you, but it is not artistic, and such a remarkably rich, flexible voice ought to be cultivated. Di is not ambitious, and if you are pleased with her bal- lads and simple songs, she doesn't care a straw for artistic effect. She spends too much precious time on people who cannot appreciate her, and is entirely regardless of fashion and etiquette. In short, she's in great danger of becoming a religions enthusiast or a strong-minded philanthropist." "I have seen in Daisy only the fruits of that pure re- ligion and undefiled which delights in visiting 'the father- less and widows in their affliction.' Her nature is ardent and enthusiastic, and she must do earnestly and heartily MRS. HOWELL AT HOME. 41 whatever her hands find to do. Let us encourage her, Mary, in her efforts to serve the Master ; the pleasures and fashions of this world will prove strong temptations to a pretty girl like Daisy, even if we use our utmost endeavors to keep her unspotted." " You don't understand me, nor sympathize with my desire to see our child admired and appreciated by those whose good opinion is worth gaining. She can have just as much true religion in her heart, and at the same time enjoy more of those innocent pleasures which are natural to her years, and cultivate those talents God has given her, so as to make herself a more useful and ornamental mem- ber of society. Louise is a Christian, but she is a great favorite because she is so accomplished; and I don't want to see such a striking contrast between my daughters, and know that others remark it too, when I'm sure Diantha has as much talent, if it were only developed, as Louise." " I must have a serious talk with Daisy, and see if I can discover a lack of those graces and accomplishments which are the ornament of true womanhood. Her instincts have seemed to me so pure, and her whole nature so sweet and healthful, that perhaps I may have been blind to her lack of ambition." " Indeed, I think you are blind to all Diantha's faults, doctor ; and as you are the only one who can influence her, I want to open your eyes. Take her dress, for instance. You allow her three hundred dollars a year for spending money, and she ought to dress very prettily on that amount ; but she told me last week that she couldn't afford a new party dress for this winter, nor a new cloak ; and I am convinced she has spent more money on that Jenks family during this autumn than would be necessary for the new dress and cloak. It is not becoming for a young lady to set at defiance the customs of polite society. 42 DE. HOWELL'S FAMILY. If there's anything I abhor, 'tis a strong-minded woman, who affects independence and singularity in dress and manners." " Surely, there's no affectation about Daisy, or I should have noticed it ; and only this morning I was remarking how neatly and becomingly she was dressed." "Yes, in that old blue merino and gray cloak! She's worn them both two years, doctor; and if she persists in wearing them another winter, they'll be as well known in all Hanthrop as your horse and buggy. I'll admit that Diantha is always neatly dressed; but she has no style, and looks as if she were obliged to economize ; and by the way, I don't think it adds to your reputation for a mem- ber of your family to go about scrimpingly dressed. Society will infer that your profession is not lucrative enough to allow your family the luxuries of life." " We can afford to be independent of the world's infer- ences; and moreover, my dear, you and Louise dress with sufficient elegance to advertise my prosperity to the clique in which you move ; and I have no fears that my profes- sional reputation will suffer amongst my patients." " You seem to forget, doctor, that Louise and I are not dependent on you for the means to dress elegantly, and our friends are very well aware of the fact. If it were not for the income of my late husband's property, I should make but a shabby appearance on the paltry sum you allow me ; and, thank Heaven, Louise is not beholden to either of us for money." Dr. Howell whistled softly, not a polite or refined substitute for words, as his lady had often assured him, but the accomplishment had sometimes proved a sort of safety-valve, and if not classic or elegant, it was at least expressive, and the doctor was a man not entirely exempt from human frailties. Mrs. Howell had an income of six MRS. HOWELL AT HOMK. 43 hundred dollars per year, and Miss Louise had just twice that amount, and both ladies spent all but a paltry fraction of their money in personal adorning and selfish pleas- ures. One or two dollars paid monthly to home and for- eign missions, an occasional dollar to some other benevo- lent societies, and cast-off garments grudgingly given to the poor, made up the sum of their charities, and heavy drafts were yearly made upon the doctor's purse to indulge his wife in the pleasures of a summer tour, or some expen- sive article of dress and ornament. Doubtless the doctor's whistle was inspired by the mem- ory of these trifling incidental expenses, and it might have been an expedient for raising his courage sufficiently to unfold his latest benevolent scheme to his wife, as the un- folding followed immediately upon the decadence of the whistle. " Now, Mary, I'm afraid you'll be a little surprised to hear of a plan of mine, which, if carried out, will certainly take more of Daisy's time, for a few weeks, than all her other charities." The doctor hesitated a moment, as if hoping that a question from his fair lady might help him over a difficult crossing ; but there was no encouragement in the cold, handsome face opposite him, and he took up, somewhat falteringly, it must be confessed, the thread of his discourse. "I have told you how remarkably that little orphan, Edna Shreve, has enlisted my sympathies. I'm afraid no human power can save her, unless she is removed from the Bonsecour to a quiet home, where she can have the most tender and judicious treatment. Both her mind and body received a severe shock during that long storm and wreck, and she is so worn with grief, fatigue, and fever, that she won't take nourishment from the nurse's hands, and I can think of no one who would be strong and tender enough 44 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. to minister to her mental and physical wants but our Daisy. You know this child has been cast a poor, help- less, orphaned waif upon our shore " "You needn't say any more, Dr. Howell. I see you want to turn our house into a hospital, and your own child into a common drudge of a nurse ; but you reckoned without your host when planning this last quixotic move. Just think for a moment ! Our entire family arrangements to be turned topsy-turvy for a little beggar whom nobody knows anything about " " Wait a minute, Mary. Captain Ashmead says her father was an educated man, a teacher, who went to Smyrna, hoping to be cured of pulmonary disease, and was so much improved by the climate, that he taught the chil- dren of the English residents there for several years, when again his health failed, and he died, leaving a wife and two interesting children helpless. The captain says Mrs. Shreve was hoping to find a distant relative in New Eng- land who would assist her in taking care of these chil- dren." " Why can't you advertise for the relative to come and take care of the orphan ? I'm sure it can't be our busi- ness." " As soon as Captain Ashmead is able, he will endeavor to find Edna's relatives ; but meantime the child is dying." " And you want to put her into our best chamber with a contagious fever that may be the death of us all ? I'm not willing to trifle with the lives of my children in such a fool-hardy way. Really, doctor, you and Di have min- gled so much with common, ill-bred people, that your nataral perceptions have become blunted, and you can't understand my sensitive shrinking from disease, and from all vulgar associations." At this point the doctor's lady felt that her words MRS. HOWELL AT BOMB. 45 needed to be made more emphatic by the " semblance of grief," and a dainty kerchief was drawn from her pocket, and held before her face. The doctor ate his pudding in silence. One could see that it was not an agreeable pas- time for him to differ from his wife, nor an easy matter to bury a charitable project when once it had enlisted his sympathies. As neither silence nor tears were Mrs. How- ell's most formidable weapons of defence, she soon emerged from behind her kerchief, and gave utterance to her emo- tions in words. "Mr. Goodenow would never have asked me to torture my delicate sensibilities as you do. He could appreciate my shrinking from any contact with disease, or with vul- gar people." Dr. Howell, never having known the departed Mr. Goodenow, was willing, on this occasion, as in multitudes of previous instances, to accept in silence his wife's esti- mate of her first husband's appreciation. " If he could speak, I'm sure he w'ould say his only child ought not to be debased and humiliated by low associa- tions." Now Dr. Howell was a man whose temper was not easily controlled, and his natural and spontaneous impulse was, to wish fervently that Mr. Goodenow might have been spared to protect his wife and child from contamina- tion ; but remembering it is always best to " leave oft' con- tention before it be meddled with," he swallowed his unwise impulses with the coffee that made a part of his dessert; then rising, he drew his wife's arm within his own, and led her to a sofa in the parlor, seating himself by her side, and taking possession of her fair, shapely, jew- elled hand. "Mary, my intimate associations with all kinds of suffer- ing, poverty, and disease, may, as you suggest, so have 46 DK. HOWELL'S FAMILY. blunted my perceptions that I cannot comprehend your shrinking from them ; and certainly your happiness should be one of my first considerations. If you would go with me to the Bonsecour Home, and see this desolate little waif, and just how she is surrounded, I think your mother- ly heart would open to the child, and you wouldn't won- der that the desire to remove her here has taken complete possession of my thoughts ; but a plan occurred to me while eating my dinner, which I hope will meet your ap- proval. The chamber over my office is used only as a lumber-room, and its contents can be readily removed to the attic. This room is large and sunny, and can be made pretty and cheerful with the outlay of a small sum of money ; and it is so far from the chambers occupied by the family, there can be no danger of contagion. Moreover, Edna's fever is not contagious ; 'tis merely the effect of exhaustion, grief, and nervous excitement." "But I should be in constant fear of some infectious dis- ease brought in her clothing from that foreign place." " You forget, Mary, that the poor child lost every article of her clothing on the wreck, excepting the garments she had on ; and those will be left at the Bonsecour." "And then think of Diantha's valuable time, and all study, practice, and society given up for a sick child that has no claims upon her, and the danger she will be ex- posed to ! Think of the expense, too ! Jane and Ellen will never submit to the extra work, and you'll be obliged to hire another girl, or part with them. It will be no trifle to buy a carpet and chamber-set for that large room. They will cost more than the India shawl I've asked you for so many times. But I have so long sacrificed my own wishes for the sake of your throwing money away on all sorts of worthless beggars and impostors, that it's useless to complain now, or oppose this last plan of turning our house into a hospital." ' MRS. HOWELL AT HOME. 47 The doctor whistled softly for a minute, with his eyes fastened on the figure of the carpet at his feet. He might have been trying to recall one of the sacrifices his lady had made of her own desires, and he might have been asking for wisdom and patience. When he resumed speech, there was no indication in his clear, healthy voice of anger or annoyance, although a delicate ear might have detected a shade of weariness and disappointment. " If I remember correctly, Mary, I've heard you express a wish for another sleeping apartment; and if this room is furnished, it will serve for Diantha or Stephen when 'tis no longer wanted for our little patient, so that the money we should spend upon it wouldn't be thrown away. As re- gards Daisy's time, I have an excellent American woman in my mind's eye a poor widow, who would be only too glad to serve me by assisting in the care of this child. I will manage affairs in such a way that our daughter shall not be oppressed with care. Another thought presents itself to me. You have been wanting to take Louise to New York this winter, and a change of air and scene for a few weeks will be an excellent remedy for your dyspepsia. Why not go at once, say the day after to-morrow, to your brother-in-law's in the city, and allow me to try the exper- iment of quiet and tender nursing for this orphan ? By so doing you and Louise will escape all danger of infection, all the worry and discomfort that may attend the intro- duction of this sick stranger into our family, and at the same time gratify your long-cherished wish, as well as give your brother Ralph's family pleasure." There was silence for several minutes. Mrs. Howell was thinking how she could accept this much coveted pleasure of a visit to New York, and yet make the leaving home appear like a sacrifice to her friends. She was weighing the chances, too, of securing an India shawl as 48 DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY. a conciliatory offering, as well as other advantages that would be gained by concession. She really wanted the room over the doctor's office transformed into a habitable apartment, and that, with the visit to New York, and the possible camel's hair shawl, would make amends for the sacrifice of her opinion. At this interesting crisis Diantha entered in evening costume a vision bright and fair enough to dispel heavier clouds than hovered around the domestic horizon. "Mother," she said, advancing to the sofa, "I have changed my mind about going to Mrs. Metcalf's ; if you think it will be pardonable for me to go after having de- clined her invitation. I shall be too late for the dinner, but shall be in season for the conversation and music, which is all I care for." "You are the most eccentric girl I've ever known, Di; the very embodiment of caprice. What made you change your mind at the last minute ? " "I finished my calls sooner than I expected, and as I saw you were disappointed because I refused this invita- tion, I hurried home, made a hasty toilet; and now am I presentable ? " Mrs. Howell examined critically the details of her daughter's dress a soft gray silk, with delicate lace at the throat, fastened with a coral pin, Diantha's favorite ornament. Her brown hair waved and rippled naturally above her fair brow, and was simply coiled at the back of her head. There was no attempt at artistic effect in its arrangement, and yet it was a crown of such rare and golden beauty that one could not fail to observe it. " You always dress so severely plain, Di ; but I believe the general effect is good this evening." Diantha read approval in her father's face. " I am glad you can approve, mother ; good night ! and don't sit up for us." MRS. HOWELL AT HOME. 49 Mrs. Hovvell arose from the sofa as soon as Diautha had disappeared, saying, "This discussion has brought on one of my severest headaches, and I must go to my room. Of course you will do as you think best about bringing that sick child h.